6. Chicago

 

 6. Chicago. Maurine Dallas Watkins. 1926 (December). 111 pages. [Source: Online] [play, classic] [3 stars]

First sentence from the prologue: You damned tightwad!

Premise/plot: Roxie Hart stands trial for murder in Maurine Dallas Watkins' play titled Chicago. Will Amos, her husband, stand by her side faithfully? Will Flynn, her lawyer, be able to talk his client out of trouble? Will the newspapers stay focused on the prettiest little murderer the city has ever seen? 

The fictional play was inspired by a handful of crime stories from the time--circa 1924--notably Beulah Annan. The play premiered on Broadway in December 1926 (at least according to Wikipedia).

My thoughts: I saw the musical in theaters when it released ages ago; I wasn't particularly impressed. I became interested in the story again during my deep-diving into silent films. I watched the 1927 silent film, Chicago, and found it intriguing/entertaining. The next day I watched Roxie Hart a 1942 film adaptation. Chicago (1927) and Roxie Hart (1942) are two very different adaptations. Same basic story, radically different interpretations. After watching these two I decided to seek out the play which I believe may be in the public domain? I found it on archive.org. 

I am glad I read this three-act play. It was interesting to see what lines (dialogue) the film(s) kept and how they interpreted the story. Of course, the silent film didn't really have dialogue. But it did capture ALL the melodrama. And it had quite the cat fight between women prisoners. There were scenes that were just GOLD in terms of their timelessness in being entertaining. The 1942 film, of course, had dialogue. Both movies were WORTH watching. I appreciated them for different reasons.

Notably the main difference between Chicago (1927) and Roxie Hart (1942) was WHO was likeable!

In terms of preference, I LOVED, LOVED, LOVED Roxie Hart (1942). I loved Chicago (1927). I liked the play.

 

© 2025 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

10. A Raisin in the Sun

A Raisin in the Sun. Lorraine Hansberry. 1959/2011. 160 pages. [Source: Library]

First sentence: Come on now, boy, it's seven thirty!

The Younger family had a lot of dreams, but those dreams are dying fast. The whole family--Mama (Lena), Beneatha, Walter Lee, Ruth, and Travis--are losing hope, losing faith. Walter Lee, a chauffeur, is angry, disappointed, frustrated. Ruth (his wife) is tired--exhausted really. The thought of bringing a second child into this world is almost too much to handle. Beneatha is restless and yearning for something that she can't even name or put into words. Mama (Lena) is stretched thin and weary. She sees the mental, emotional, spiritual state of her grown children and she doesn't know how to fix it, how to make everything right. She's got the weight of the world on her shoulders--and she's still grieving. Travis, well, it's not so much that he's struggling with hope. He's got the most hope and resilience of anyone in the family. It's just that the adults want SO MUCH MORE, for their own sakes, of course, but also for Travis. They see the world and ache at what the future may hold for Travis. 

The play opens with the family at a crossroads. Mama (Lena) Younger is about to receive the life insurance money after her husband's death. (Though his death occurs BEFORE the play opens, he is not forgotten.) $10,000--what can the family do with that much money. What is the BEST use of that money??? It is Mama's money, and Mama's decision. But the whole family can't help reviving their own private dreams for a moment or two. And this is where some discontent bubbles up perhaps.

This is a family in crisis. Things simply can't continue as they are.

I first read this one in college. I can't remember if it was as an undergraduate or graduate or both. I took an African American literature class, AND, I took a twentieth century American plays. So it's certainly possible I read it twice. But it has been twenty years--give or take--since I last read it.

It is a powerful read. The emotions pack a punch. Here is a family hurting, struggling, arguing, speaking harshly with one another. There is SO much to feel. One also has to consider that this is a glimpse of a family. There's obviously complex dynamics between ALL family members.

One thing that strikes me is that ALL the family (perhaps with the exception of Travis) is well-fleshed out and oh-so-achingly-human. Not one member of this family is perfect, flawless. My personal favorite, Mama, is not flawless (though I love her dearly). All are broken--whether from the outside in or inside out hardly matters. They have choices to make. Will they continue to tear each other down OR will they come together and stand together.

 My absolute favorite scene is between Beneatha and Mama:

“Beneatha: Love him? There is nothing left to love.

Mama: There is always something left to love. And if you ain't learned that, you ain't learned nothing. (Looking at her) Have you cried for that boy today? I don't mean for yourself and for the family 'cause we lost the money. I mean for him: what he been through and what it done to him. Child, when do you think is the time to love somebody the most? When they done good and made things easy for everybody? Well then, you ain't through learning - because that ain't the time at all. It's when he's at his lowest and can't believe in hisself 'cause the world done whipped him so! when you starts measuring somebody, measure him right, child, measure him right. Make sure you done taken into account what hills and valleys he come through before he got to wherever he is.”

I think it is heartbreaking to see Mama (Lena) grieving and aching for her son and daughter-in-law. Mama does not want to see her grandchild (her unborn grandchild) destroyed (aka aborted). The idea that her family is so full of despair that they cannot see anyway forward is breaking her to pieces. Something has to happen.

I do wonder if the play is (as) well received today by readers. Would modern pro-choice readers be like Ruth has every right to have an abortion. It is none of Mama's business. She is being oppressive trying to shame her son and daughter-in-law. Would they also see Mama as oppressive in her relationship with Beneatha? Would they cheer on her atheism? Be like her mother has no right to tell her daughter that she *has* to believe in God so long as she lives in her mother's house? 

 

© 2022 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

103. William Shakespeare's The Taming of the Clueless

William Shakespeare's Taming of the Clueless. Ian Doescher. 2020. [April] 192 pages. [Source: Library]

First sentence:
Jane: Cher--handsome, clever, rich--who had a home
Most comfortable, a happy disposition,
Seem'd to unite, wherever she did roam,
The blessings of existence's condition.

Premise/plot: Ian Doescher has adapted the movie Clueless for his Pop Shakespeare series. It is adaptation of an adaption. In the afterword, he noted that he read Emma and watched Clueless before beginning his work. He also noted that he thinks that the plot of Clueless comes closest to something William Shakespeare would have written--in comparison with the other titles he's written/adapted.

So if you've seen the movie Clueless, you know the premise and plot of this one. Balthasar appears throughout singing the movie's soundtrack!

Behold, beyond the window,
'neath the sky,
The rushing carriages do pass thee by,
Whilst I do sit, to loneliness resign'd,
And ponder wherefore questions fill
my mind.
'Tis Friday night! I feel the soothing
heat
And search this filthy city for a beat--
Downtown, the young ones go,
hey nonny non,
Downtown, the young ones grow,
hey nonny hey!
We are the children of America,
The children we of new America.

and

Where didst thou go? Where didst thou go?
Mine emptiness doth grow.
Where didst thou go? Where didst thou go?
I'm lost, and fain would know.

You can expect to find all the most memorable, iconic lines from the movie...

DIONNE: Didst see? Thou pass'd a sign that bid thee stop--
'Twas large and red, octagonally shap'd--
Yet thou drove on like thou wert being chas'd.
CHER: A pause complete I register'd therein.


TRAVIS
—Unexpected!
No speech prepar’d I for this honor.
These few words, though, I’d gladly utter:
The tardy life’s the work of many—
My tardiness by many people
Created was. Yea, I am grateful
Unto my parents, ne’er rides giving,
The drivers of the L. A. buses
Who took a chance upon an unknown.
Last—not the least—the wonderful crew
At old McDonalds Inn, that spendeth
Their hours at cooking Egg McMuffins,
Sans which I never might be tardy.


CHER
Full well I know th’exhaustion of thy heart.
Still, though, I’ll warrant sport shall do us good—
Of late my body feels most heiferlike,
All weight and hips and udders ev’rywhere,
Like I had stomachs four that I must fill.
Today I had two bowls of Special K,
Three pieces of delightful turkey bacon,
A full hand’s worth of popp’d corn most delicious,
Five peanut butter M and Ms—

CHER
Though I’d not be a traitor to my age,
No turncoat to my generation bold—
I do confess confusion and dismay.
The way lads dress is nothing short of odd,
As if they fell, like apples, from their beds,
Adorn’d themselves in poorly fitting pants—
More like broad bags than pantaloons, in troth—
Then cover greasy hair with filthy caps,
Which they wear backward and proclaim it style.
In public they appear array’d as such,
And should we women swoon to see them so?
Nay, I think not, and never shall be sway’d!
To search for lads in high school is a quest
As useless as the hunt for meaning in
The dramas of the actor Pauly Shore—
The nation’s jester: a most dull fool he,
And none but libertines delight in him.

CHER
Eureka, I have fall’n in love with Josh!
Josh, he whom I have known since I was small,
Who tickles me and jabs me when nearby,
Who gives me cause to smile when I am sad,
Whose presence is a comfort in itself,
Who help’d me learn to drive my carriage well,
Whom I do dearly love to torment so,
Who, all these years, hath been a friend to me—
By heaven, it is he I love, none other!
Completely, totally, and majorly
My heart doth move toward him utterly!

My thoughts: I thought this was a super-fun read. It was fun, silly, enjoyable. A great way to spend a weekend. 

 

 

© 2021 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

14. An Ideal Husband

An Ideal Husband. Oscar Wilde. 1893. 78 pages. [Source: Bought]

First sentence:

Mrs. Marchmont. Going on to the Hartlocks’ to-night, Margaret?

Lady Basildon. I suppose so. Are you?

Mrs. Marchmont. Yes. Horribly tedious parties they give, don’t they?

Premise/plot: An Ideal Husband is a play by Oscar Wilde originally published in 1893. It opens with a party of sorts. Mrs. Cheveley finds a way to get an invitation so that she can blackmail Sir Robert Chiltern, an under-secretary for foreign affairs. She has a letter from his past--they had a mutual friends years ago--that could do him major damage politically if it's brought to light. She wants him to change his mind and more importantly change his speech and public stance on a matter. (She'll benefit financially from this change of opinion). He wants to say NO, NO, NEVER...but the idea of losing his wife's good opinion not to mention the good opinion of society at large and the government...well...he's tempted to give in. He confides in his oldest friend, Lord Goring; Goring's advice NEVER GIVE IN, NEVER SURRENDER. He wants a chance to find a different solution to this problem. But can he outwit Mrs. Cheveley? 

Of course there are a few more under stories going on that make this one a wee bit more complex than my summary. (Like Mabel Chiltern (Robert's sister) courtship with Lord Goring).

My thoughts: I am really enjoying reading Wilde's plays! This one has to do with discretion/indiscretion, public opinion, morality, and relationships. And POLITICS. It was really such a treat to read this one.

Quotes:

Mabel Chiltern. [Coming up to Lord Caversham.] Why do you call Lord Goring good-for-nothing?
Lord Caversham. Because he leads such an idle life.
Mabel Chiltern. How can you say such a thing? Why, he rides in the Row at ten o’clock in the morning, goes to the Opera three times a week, changes his clothes at least five times a day, and dines out every night of the season. You don’t call that leading an idle life, do you?

Sir Robert Chiltern. What an appalling philosophy that sounds! To attempt to classify you, Mrs. Cheveley, would be an impertinence. But may I ask, at heart, are you an optimist or a pessimist? Those seem to be the only two fashionable religions left to us nowadays.
Mrs. Cheveley. Oh, I’m neither. Optimism begins in a broad grin, and Pessimism ends with blue spectacles. Besides, they are both of them merely poses.
Sir Robert Chiltern. You prefer to be natural?
Mrs. Cheveley. Sometimes. But it is such a very difficult pose to keep up.

 Mrs. Cheveley. Ah! the strength of women comes from the fact that psychology cannot explain us. Men can be analysed, women . . . merely adored.

Mrs. Cheveley. Questions are never indiscreet. Answers sometimes are.

Mabel Chiltern. What an absurd reason!
Lord Goring. All reasons are absurd.

Lord Goring. I love talking about nothing, father. It is the only thing I know anything about.
Lord Caversham. You seem to me to be living entirely for pleasure.
Lord Goring. What else is there to live for, father? Nothing ages like happiness.

Lord Goring. I adore political parties. They are the only place left to us where people don’t talk politics.
Lady Basildon. I delight in talking politics. I talk them all day long. But I can’t bear listening to them. I don’t know how the unfortunate men in the House stand these long debates.
Lord Goring. By never listening.
Lady Basildon. Really?
Lord Goring. [In his most serious manner.] Of course. You see, it is a very dangerous thing to listen. If one listens one may be convinced; and a man who allows himself to be convinced by an argument is a thoroughly unreasonable person.

Lord Goring. You should go to bed, Miss Mabel.
Mabel Chiltern. Lord Goring!
Lord Goring. My father told me to go to bed an hour ago. I don’t see why I shouldn’t give you the same advice. I always pass on good advice. It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself.

Lord Goring. Life is never fair, Robert. And perhaps it is a good thing for most of us that it is not.

Lord Goring. [Turning round.] Well, she wore far too much rouge last night, and not quite enough clothes. That is always a sign of despair in a woman.

Lord Goring. It is always worth while asking a question, though it is not always worth while answering one.

Lord Goring. [After a long pause.] Nobody is incapable of doing a foolish thing. Nobody is incapable of doing a wrong thing.

Lord Goring. [Rising.] No, Lady Chiltern, I am not a Pessimist. Indeed I am not sure that I quite know what Pessimism really means. All I do know is that life cannot be understood without much charity, cannot be lived without much charity. It is love, and not German philosophy, that is the true explanation of this world, whatever may be the explanation of the next. And if you are ever in trouble, Lady Chiltern, trust me absolutely, and I will help you in every way I can. If you ever want me, come to me for my assistance, and you shall have it. Come at once to me.

Mabel Chiltern. Well, Tommy has proposed to me again. Tommy really does nothing but propose to me. He proposed to me last night in the music-room, when I was quite unprotected, as there was an elaborate trio going on. I didn’t dare to make the smallest repartee, I need hardly tell you. If I had, it would have stopped the music at once. Musical people are so absurdly unreasonable. They always want one to be perfectly dumb at the very moment when one is longing to be absolutely deaf. Then he proposed to me in broad daylight this morning, in front of that dreadful statue of Achilles. Really, the things that go on in front of that work of art are quite appalling. The police should interfere. At luncheon I saw by the glare in his eye that he was going to propose again, and I just managed to check him in time by assuring him that I was a bimetallist. Fortunately I don’t know what bimetallism means. And I don’t believe anybody else does either. But the observation crushed Tommy for ten minutes. He looked quite shocked. And then Tommy is so annoying in the way he proposes. If he proposed at the top of his voice, I should not mind so much. That might produce some effect on the public. But he does it in a horrid confidential way. When Tommy wants to be romantic he talks to one just like a doctor. I am very fond of Tommy, but his methods of proposing are quite out of date. I wish, Gertrude, you would speak to him, and tell him that once a week is quite often enough to propose to any one, and that it should always be done in a manner that attracts some attention.

Lady Markby. [Reflecting.] You are remarkably modern, Mabel. A little too modern, perhaps. Nothing is so dangerous as being too modern. One is apt to grow old-fashioned quite suddenly. I have known many instances of it.

Lord Goring. Other people are quite dreadful. The only possible society is oneself.
Phipps. Yes, my lord.
Lord Goring. To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance, Phipps.

Lord Goring. I am glad you have called. I am going to give you some good advice.
Mrs. Cheveley. Oh! pray don’t. One should never give a woman anything that she can’t wear in the evening.

 

 

© 2021 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

9. The Importance of Being Earnest

The Importance of Being Earnest. Oscar Wilde. 1895. 76 pages. [Source: Bought]

First sentence:

Algernon.  Did you hear what I was playing, Lane?

Lane.  I didn’t think it polite to listen, sir.

Algernon.  I’m sorry for that, for your sake.  I don’t play accurately—any one can play accurately—but I play with wonderful expression.  As far as the piano is concerned, sentiment is my forte.  I keep science for Life.

Premise/plot: The Importance of Being Earnest is romantic comedy--a play--written by Oscar Wilde. It concerns two friends and their adventures/misadventures in the town and country. Algernon Moncrieff, one of our two heroes, claims to be a confirmed bachelor. Marriage is NOT on his to do list. John Worthing (aka Jack) has entirely different plans. He's madly in love with a young woman--a woman who happens to be Algernon's first cousin--Gwendolen Fairfax. The problem? Well, Jack is living a double life. In the COUNTRY he's Jack Worthing (with a ward named Cecily). In the CITY (London) he's ERNEST B. WORTHING. His naughty, wicked brother Ernest is Jack's excuse for going to the city so often and staying away. Algernon thinks it's all good fun--when he stumbles onto his friend's secret--because he has such an acquaintance himself (though he's not pretending to be anyone else--yet), Mr. Bunbury is his COUNTRY friend who's always on death's door. 

If Gwendolen accepts his proposal, then Jack plans to kill off Ernest Worthing. (Even if it makes his ward, Cecily, upset. She fancies herself madly, deeply in love with Ernest Worthing. She wants to REFORM that BAD BOY.  

When Jack returns to the country and informs the reverend of his brother's death, he's in for a shock. His "brother" just arrived and plans on staying a week at least! 

There's plenty to laugh about in this three act play.

My thoughts: I really LOVED this one. It was just a joy to read. Mom said that this was my grandma's favorite play. I can see why! It is hilarious and oh-so-quotable. 

Quotes:

When one is in town one amuses oneself. When one is in the country one amuses other people. (Jack)

Oh! it is absurd to have a hard and fast rule about what one should read and what one shouldn’t. More than half of modern culture depends on what one shouldn’t read. (Algernon)

Some aunts are tall, some aunts are not tall. That is a matter that surely an aunt may be allowed to decide for herself. You seem to think that every aunt should be exactly like your aunt! (Jack)

The truth is rarely pure and never simple. Modern life would be very tedious if it were either, and modern literature a complete impossibility! (Algernon)

 

I hate people who are not serious about meals. It is so shallow of them. (Algernon)

 

Lady Bracknell. Good afternoon, dear Algernon, I hope you are behaving very well.

Algernon. I’m feeling very well, Aunt Augusta.

 

Gwendolen. Yes, I am quite well aware of the fact. And I often wish that in public, at any rate, you had been more demonstrative. For me you have always had an irresistible fascination. Even before I met you I was far from indifferent to you. [Jack looks at her in amazement.] We live, as I hope you know, Mr. Worthing, in an age of ideals. The fact is constantly mentioned in the more expensive monthly magazines, and has reached the provincial pulpits, I am told; and my ideal has always been to love some one of the name of Ernest. There is something in that name that inspires absolute confidence. The moment Algernon first mentioned to me that he had a friend called Ernest, I knew I was destined to love you.

Jack. You really love me, Gwendolen?

Gwendolen. Passionately!

Jack. Darling! You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.

Gwendolen. My own Ernest!

Jack. But you don’t really mean to say that you couldn’t love me if my name wasn’t Ernest?

Gwendolen. But your name is Ernest.

Jack. Yes, I know it is. But supposing it was something else? Do you mean to say you couldn’t love me then?

 

Lady Bracknell. [Pencil and note-book in hand.] I feel bound to tell you that you are not down on my list of eligible young men, although I have the same list as the dear Duchess of Bolton has. We work together, in fact. However, I am quite ready to enter your name, should your answers be what a really affectionate mother requires. Do you smoke?

Jack. Well, yes, I must admit I smoke.

Lady Bracknell. I am glad to hear it. A man should always have an occupation of some kind. There are far too many idle men in London as it is. How old are you?

Jack. Twenty-nine.

Lady Bracknell. A very good age to be married at. I have always been of opinion that a man who desires to get married should know either everything or nothing. Which do you know?

Jack. [After some hesitation.] I know nothing, Lady Bracknell.

Lady Bracknell. I am pleased to hear it. I do not approve of anything that tampers with natural ignorance. Ignorance is like a delicate exotic fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone. The whole theory of modern education is radically unsound. Fortunately in England, at any rate, education produces no effect whatsoever. If it did, it would prove a serious danger to the upper classes, and probably lead to acts of violence in Grosvenor Square.

Jack. I am sick to death of cleverness. Everybody is clever nowadays. You can’t go anywhere without meeting clever people. The thing has become an absolute public nuisance. I wish to goodness we had a few fools left.

Algernon. We have.

Jack. I should extremely like to meet them. What do they talk about?

Algernon. The fools? Oh! about the clever people, of course.

Jack. What fools!

 

Miss Prism. Memory, my dear Cecily, is the diary that we all carry about with us.

Cecily. Yes, but it usually chronicles the things that have never happened, and couldn’t possibly have happened. I believe that Memory is responsible for nearly all the three-volume novels that Mudie sends us.

Miss Prism. Do not speak slightingly of the three-volume novel, Cecily. I wrote one myself in earlier days.

Cecily. Did you really, Miss Prism? How wonderfully clever you are! I hope it did not end happily? I don’t like novels that end happily. They depress me so much.

Miss Prism. The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what Fiction means.

Algernon. When I am in trouble, eating is the only thing that consoles me. Indeed, when I am in really great trouble, as any one who knows me intimately will tell you, I refuse everything except food and drink. At the present moment I am eating muffins because I am unhappy. Besides, I am particularly fond of muffins. [Rising.]

Jack. [Rising.] Well, that is no reason why you should eat them all in that greedy way. [Takes muffins from Algernon.]

Algernon. [Offering tea-cake.] I wish you would have tea-cake instead. I don’t like tea-cake.

Jack. Good heavens! I suppose a man may eat his own muffins in his own garden.

Algernon. But you have just said it was perfectly heartless to eat muffins.

Jack. I said it was perfectly heartless of you, under the circumstances. That is a very different thing.

Algernon. That may be. But the muffins are the same. [He seizes the muffin-dish from Jack.]

Gwendolen. The fact that they did not follow us at once into the house, as any one else would have done, seems to me to show that they have some sense of shame left.

Cecily. They have been eating muffins. That looks like repentance.

Gwendolen. [After a pause.] They don’t seem to notice us at all. Couldn’t you cough?

Cecily. But I haven’t got a cough.

© 2021 Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews