Roll Over, Beethoven

The man, the myth,
the legend

It was a weekend of famous people effing up their lines.  First Jane Fonda in "33 Variations," a long play all about Beethoven, Beethoven, did I mention, Beethoven.  And then Christina Aguilara, in "The Star Spangled Banner."

Willy the Shake, or Ludwig Van?

Rather than feel superior to these wonderful gals, the SJG did a fair amount of gasping and OMG-ing.  In Jane Fonda's case, no one said a thing in public.  In private, the four of us who witnessed the boo-boo screamed and howled and will milk this till the end of time.  In Christina's case, switching "O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming" with "what so proudly we watched at the twilight's last [unintelligible lyric]" was a Super Bowl shanda of epic proportions.  It will live on and on and haunt her.  She's already apologized.  She was devastated.  Leave her alone, people.  Can you hit those notes?  I didn't think so.  Get over it.  That girl can sing.

Everybody screws up now and then, even the Oscar and Grammy winners, and yes, even the SJG.  Back to Jane.  I checked her blog and all she said was that Saturday's matinee went well and the audience was receptive.  No word about the big mix-up at the end.  In her last lecture, as a musicologist obsessed with Beethoven, Beethoven, Beethoven, she dropped in a shout-out to a dude from a whole other century.  She said "Shakespeare, er, Beethoven."

You could feel the oxygen sucked right out of the Ahmanson.  It was a major "Oh no, she didn't."  And then it passed and she got a standing O anyway.  She's Jane Fonda. 

On the way home, however, my brother John, his boyfriend Tim, a great gal named Erlin and the SJG did a solid twenty minutes on the subject.  She said Shakespeare!  Why did she say Shakespeare?  Why was she thinking about Shakespeare?  At least she caught herself.  The Shakespeare Syndrome might've ended there, but then, my bro', the former theater arts major, launched into Shakespearean Sonnet #29: When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state... etc., as clear evidence that Shakespeare was gay or bisexual and had a young male lover in London, the subject of several sonnets. 

A lively debate followed. The SJG poo-pooed this theory, because seriously, who cares whether he was or wasn't.  The theater dept. at UCLA may have been teaching the drama students that Shakespeare was gay, but over in the English department, they never mentioned it, or if they did, I have no memory of it, which proves that they didn't.  It didn't come up the whole time I studied English in England.  And when I went to Stratford, there was no sign saying, "Here lay Shakespeare with his male lover." 
Erlin backed me up.  Tim said nothing, till I forced a confession out of him.  This was the first time he was hearing it, too.  John said, "Go home and Google is Shakespeare gay, and then call me up and apologize."

I went home and Googled, unearthing many theories, none of which proved a thing, other than I love Shakespeare a lot more than Beethoven.  "33 Variations" on a Shakespearean sonnet would've held my attention more than "33 Variations" on Beethoven's obsession with a mediocre waltz.  And yet, Jane Fonda was wonderful and human and the SJG should only look that good at her age.