Hedwig and Heaven

On the thought-provoking entertainment tip, the last two things I've seen--Hedwig and the Angry Inch (in play form) and Far From Heaven--keep tugging at my brain. Each has a lot to say, I think, about the various shades of intolerance of which humans are capable. For all of her railing against her own repression, it's not until the end of the story that Hedwig understands she needs to let Klaus be himself; and while Kathy's best friend Eleanor in Far From Heaven offers up a seemingly sympathetic and supportive facade when Kathy admits that Frank has come out, she does an abrubt about face when her friend confesses her feelings for her black gardener.

Both also speak to the ultimate futility of trying to force yourself to be something you're not (or trying to hide what you really are), and to the idea that there's something to be said for working through the painful, messy, achy parts of life to get at what lies beyond. Neither work has an ending that's markedly happy, but the endings *are* hopeful, and unmistakeably forward-looking. Therein, I think, lies the promise.