The trade-off for the penurious life of a common scribbler (meaning one has not ascended to the rarified heights of a by-line in the New Yorker, the New York Times or the Guardian Observer) means that one is the beneficiary of books, recordings and videos with no monetary cost attached (not free, because as one learns sooner or later you pay for everything in this life)In any case, the peeps over at HBO sent me the Sarah Silverman’s forthcoming (Nov. 23)especiale We Are Miracles.
Having over the years caught bits and samples of Silverman (which I usually found hilarious and occasionally brilliant, watching her perform standup)—dare I call it a routine— for an hour was an excitable experience. Having no fear of vernacular or seemingly oblivious of any taboos, Silverman delivers pungent well, targeted observations spiced with manifold off-the-cuff, top-of- mind outbursts and occasional comments about the audience’s reactions. The stage performance ended with her solo rendition of her infamous/famous aria “Cunt.” Oddly, it works. Lenny Bruce would be proud. Here’s the orchestral/choral version:
Silverman leaves the stage and walks outside to resume (the show opens with her outside the venue, bouncing a tennis ball when three low riding vatos drive up thinking she is working girl) the conversation with her new Mexican friends. The chicos drive off and Sarah walks down the street, away from the camera…Fade to black.
Want more Sarah? Here’s A Perfect Night:
Currently reading The Impossible Exile by George Podonik(Other Press)