Personally, I think A Sucker Emcee was the best work of art that I saw in this class. Not only did it take an extreme amount of talent and memorization, but also it was all 100% true to his life’s story. Unlike the movies, the dances, or the opera, this was not just a performance telling a story with a meaning; it was a narrative tale of social standards and privilege. Unlike some of the movies, like Moonstruck and The Producers, A Sucker Emcee was not a comedy: it contained both humor and seriousness while still providing a valid message to the audience. This was my favorite thing we saw in the class because it’s message holds true for everyone without being too assuming or pretentious.

When muMs began speaking, I had no idea where this performance was going: on an empty stage with no more than a turntable and a microphone. Frankly speaking, I was not expecting much. Then as muMs and Richard began, I realized that the main focus of it was going to be privilege, or lack thereof. With topics ranging from drug use and racial inequality to cockroach hotels and Alzheimer’s disease, A Sucker Emcee left the audience with a smorgasbord of ideas to think about. What I’m saying is most of the other works of art we saw in this class, with the exception of a few, spoon-fed the audience about what the artist thinks about New York City. A Sucker Emcee, on the other hand, gives you the topics, while you think about them yourself so you can come to your own conclusion.

So why is this one of the best portrayals of NYC? Well, one of the struggles it shows seems to be the most relevant and important struggles happening right now: racial inequality and its effect on people. While never specifically stated, muMs hinted at the social injustice of racial inequality throughout his whole performance.

Throughout this semester, we’ve read plays, watched movies and performances, and attended world-renowned museum exhibits, yet a one-man performance at an independent theater company had the greatest impact on me. Most of the movies we watched were simply entertaining, but didn’t seem to have a great important message. I’m not saying that every movie needs one, but I don’t think the ones we saw did. Also, while I’m a nerd for museums and exhibits, there were only a few pieces of the Brooklyn Museum seemed to have social meaning. And let’s not forget Carmen and the unforgettably perfect performance of Birds With Sky Mirrors: while those were experiences unique to NYC, they themselves had no meaning.

So how do I wrap up the last blog post with a nice little farewell to the semester, this seminar, and a final “so long” to the performances we saw, ranging from A Sucker Emcee to The Muppets Take Manhattan? Needless to say, some works of art were just entertainment, while others had both entertaining qualities and real social messages.

To answer the question the blog is asking, I will simply say “No.” But, because this is a blog, I can’t simply just say that, I have to expand and explain myself. On the spectrum of art, there is self-expression on one extreme, and then money on the other extreme. There is very little room in between where an artist can strive (and achieve) both. There are cases, however, where artists are commercially successful by expressing themselves, but in these cases, the artists strive for self-expression and the economic success is just a reaction. When artists “sell out,” or do it for the money and fame, they lose all sense and meaning of expression.

For example, if a movie writer wants to express himself, then he will write what he wants to write, without the influence of money. But, when he falls into the temptation of money, movie series like “Fast and Furious” is produced. Making money in the movie industry is easy; there is a checklist: hot actors, cars, cool gadgets, money, drugs, guns, explosions, and a recurring theme of “bad guys can’t aim guns.” When you take this and add it all together, you get economically successful movies: Star Wars, The Expendables, and any Jason Statham movie. Movies like this, while generic, are not surprisingly successful.

This set formula can be used in any art form, such as music as well. Let me use Nicki Minaj as an example: people often complain that she is untalented and average, yet I don’t see anyone here making nearly as much money or having fame like she does. I don’t like her or her music, yet I have to give credit where credit is due: she knows how to work the system and give the people what they want: sex appeal and catchy tunes. Whether “Anaconda” has an underlying symbolic reference to the pseudo-sexual stereotypes in the everyday life or not is a decision everyone can personally make, but regardless, she has perfected the form of selling out. Now, let me switch gears and give an example of an artist who started off expressing himself, and coincidentally was successful: Eminem. Although there is no question that his latest albums were entirely to “sell out,” I will defend his earlier works of music, in regard to Waseem’s plea. The audience had an insatiable hunger for the songs expressing certain areas of Eminem’s personal life, such as his mother, daughter, and drug addiction. Personally, I don’t believe he was catering his music to the masses: he was doing music for his own pleasure. Granted, in recent years, he has turned to the economic side and does it for the money, yet he explains why people love his music. In his song “Rap God,” he explains that to become famous, stay famous, and make money in the rap area, all you need to do is follow the form, which he specifically spells out for us:

“Everybody want the key and the secret to rap
Immortality like I have got
Well, to be truthful the blueprint’s
Simply rage and youthful exuberance
Everybody loves to root for a nuisance”

Basically all he’s saying is that you need to be angry and be the underdog, and you’re in. Maintain that persona, and you’re set. The question is: Is it okay for artists to “sell out?”

Personally, I think it’s 100% fine if an artist wants to sell out. Artists can only aim for either money or expression. But, if they aim for the money, I don’t think they’re artists anymore, I think they’re performers. Art, however abstract and unique, is generally self-expression, and to aim for the monetary value side is not art anymore. Whether you’re in a movie with a bunch of explosions and a horrible storyline, Nicki Minaj, or Eminem (who is not a worthless slime bucket), you have given up artistic credibility for money. Every person is entitled to their opinion on this topic, but remember, every person is also entitled to the freedom of their choices, however artistic or not.

Work Cited: Waseem Iqnaibi’s “Real ‘Nigga'”

New York City is not all fun and games. It doesn’t all work out in the end. No one will always be happy. Bad things happen to good people, so why should movies portray that? Is it to satiate people’s need for happiness and love because their own lives can’t supply them? To me, it seems like this fantasyland of happiness and love in these unrealistic movie scenarios are junk, and everyone’s addicted. They fiend for their junk and try to get a quick fix anywhere they can, whether it be romantic comedy like Moonstruck or fuzzy singing gloved hands in The Muppets Take Manhattan. Those movies are not realistic, and they warp the mind of anyone who’s gullible enough to think that’s how the world actually works. If you want a real depiction of the world, regardless of how grim, Taxi Driver and The 25^th Hour are much more accurate than any other movies we’ve seen this semester.

Moonstruck… this was a stupid movie. “Oh I’m just going to leave my fiancé for his brother because his brother is broken and I like to fix men.” That’s basically this story. Oh yeah, plus add a cheating husband/father, a dying old mother who no one cares about but her pathetically passionate “mamma’s boy” son, Cher, and a wooden hand and you’ve found yourself moonstruck: literally “dazed, confused, irrational.” Moonstruck is irrational. No one is going to be okay that their partner has cheated on them. In the real world, not everyone would be drinking wine and laughing in the end: you would hear shouting, cursing, and a ton of blame being tossed around like a hot potato. While some people with a simple sense of humor might actually find this funny and entertaining, it goes without saying that this is unrealistic and would never happen, especially not in New York City, which is known for two things: buildings and the rude people who inhabit them.

The “feel-good” movie of the semester obviously goes to The Muppets Take Manhattan without a doubt, but does that make it accurate? New York City is not a “feel-good” city: when creeps holler at women, the women can’t scare them off. When you’re robbed, you can’t take matters into your own hands and chase them. This isn’t Batman. People is people is people? I don’t think so. People are animals in clothes. Animal Planet’s slogan is literally “Animal Planet, surprisingly human.” Even bad TV knows that humans are nothing more than animals with suppressed instincts. Yeah, maybe a frog and a pig can get married in Muppet world without any weird looks, but you’ll never catch interracial marriages in New York City without someone acting surprised or disapproving. Granted, the Muppets can make anyone with a heart laugh, but New York City is no place for laughter, it’s serious here.

Taxi Driver, unfortunately, seems to be a good description for life in NYC: repetitive, long, and meaningless. PTSD, prostitution, and murder are all real problems pertaining to both the past and the present NYC environments. These are real situations that people of New York face everyday. Nobody wants to go through them, but it’s not by choice. This unfortunate lifestyle is lived by some. For anyone who doesn’t know the effects of this lifestyle firsthand, Taxi Driver is a fun action movie to see in the movies to see how the “other half” lives.

The 25^th Hour was another more realistic movie: everyone makes mistakes and we have to live with them. Monty’s mistake was his selling of drugs, and his punishment was time in prison. By the time he realizes the mistakes in his lifestyle, it’s too late. For the whole more he lives in his 25^th hour, or the moment after the end. A late shot after the buzzer. A time for “what if’s” and “could’ve been’s.” Monty was not a bad person, but he made bad choices that he had to pay for. He could’ve run away, but if he did, then this movie would’ve fallen under the category of “unrealistic lives.” There is no permanent escape from the guilt of one’s one conscience: he did the right thing by doing his time.

Movies can be considered more than just art and self-expression: it can sometimes distort the audience’s view on reality. Life is not easy. It’s not a walk in the park; it’s hard, full of twists and turns that will take people off of their original path. The feel-good movie are inaccurate it their portrayal of NYC because sometimes life sucks, so that’s why movies like Taxi Driver and The 25^th Hour are here to remind us

To preface, I must admit that I have no education in singing, acting, or instrument-playing. Unfortunately, because of this, I couldn’t appreciate anything the opera offered other than the set. I don’t know what it takes to sing that loudly or play that harmoniously like the orchestra did. I was an outsider. Wait, I take that back. I wasn’t just an outsider; I was an intruder.

The juxtaposition all started on public transportation. Unlike all of the yuppies at the MET, I wasn’t able to drive my expensive, imported car, so I took public transportation. I stuck out like a sore thumb in my tuxedo among the regular folk on the E, B, and 1 trains. Expecting everyone to be elegantly dressed, I tried my best to find in with my great expectations. I was wrong. Most people were casually dressed, as if going on a date to a nice restaurant. Needless to say, I stuck out like a sore thumb, again. These opera-goers saw straight through my façade, even with the guise of my bowtie. If I don’t fit in on the train, and I don’t fit in in the opera, where do I belong?

When exiting the subway station, I bought a philly cheesesteak from a cart (careful not to get anything on my white shirt), while many other audience members ate at restaurants near the MET. Then, after finding Professor Healey with little help from the curt usher, we headed to our seats, or as baseball aficionados would call them, the nose-bleeds. Without the help of my rented binoculars, I wouldn’t have even been able to tell who was singing half the time. With the introduction of new characters, it was hard to keep track of who’s who, since there were hardly any physical attributes that I could see from my seat. The singing seemed okay to me: a talent, undoubtedly, but nothing too fascinating to someone not trained in the study of music. Then came a godsend: intermission.

During intermission, I noticed two older men staring and talking about these opera panopticons: us young students: kids who don’t belong and aren’t accepted in this specific society; we see and hear everything they do, yet we’re so isolated in our existence at the opera. So, after a flash of the PR smile, I started a conversation with them. Jim and James have been season ticket owners since they graduated college themselves, so they’ve seen about six to eight operas a year. Utilizing their knowledge and experience, I asked them what they thought about this specific night of Carmen. Jim has a specific love for Carmen because it was the first opera he ever saw, so he had a lot to say about this performance. Having seen this production before, he felt that tonight’s singing was lacking. I responded by defending the opera, saying that I didn’t hear anything wrong with it, yet almost instinctively, James attacked with “Well you wouldn’t be able to, would you?” Frankly speaking, the opera scene just isn’t for me I guess. The second half goes similarly to the first half: loud voices, loud music, people who look like ants from our point of view.

The overall story of Carmen was a bit too cliché for me: a love triangle and murder. Well, if you want to be technical, it was more of a love pentagon: Carmen, Michaëla, Don José, Escamillo, and Zuniga. Man loves woman, woman loves man, man kills woman: this stuff happens all the time in film and plays. The only thing that really caught my attention was the weird shape of the MET’s ceiling and the amazingly detailed set. During the second half, I got a little bored of the story and started analyzing the bricks of the broken down walls though my binoculars. I tried to see what it was made of, but much to my dismay, I was just too far.

This might have been the best night of Carmen ever, or it might have been the worst. Simply, I wouldn’t know. I personally don’t have the skillset to appreciate anything that opera itself has to offer. Would I attend opera again: of course!!! Well, only if it’s free again. I have more important things to spend hundreds of dollars on than sitting too far to see people singing in a language I don’t speak. If I wanted to read words for hours, I would sit down and read a book or watch a foreign movie with subtitles in my pajamas, not in a tux in an opera house. If opera doesn’t cater to the younger crowd, then opera shouldn’t expect to last much longer. I’m glad I saw an opera in my lifetime, but I know I’ll never have the money or time to see one again. A good movie or book is good enough for me. Plus I don’t have to worry about not fitting in or being ostracized, and I certainly don’t have to worry about people like Jim and James looking down upon me.