Two of the top five players in the race, Byron Kaverman (2nd) and Barry Hutter (4th) have yet to make a final table.

I went on a bit of a Twitter rant yesterday about my concerns with the new WSOP Player of the Year system. With my past jobs at WSOP and Bluff, I’ve been very involved in POY formulas and looking at how to fine tune them. In the past, I’ve always picked some outlier circumstances to test the formula, then worked backwards from there to see where issues arise in more common scenarios. For example, the old Bluff POY had multipliers that were too high for buy-in compared to field size and failed to differentiate buy-ins between $1,000 and $1,500 events, resulting in the grading of $1,500 events being too low, resulting in situations like Brian Rast in 2011 winning the PPC and a $1,500 PLHE bracelet and not even being mathematically capable of taking the lead in the race.

From the looks of it, the new system seems to only make situations like the one with Rast even more likely, thanks to a format that does not place enough emphasis on field size, fails to take into consideration that, with the Main Event paying 1,000 players it is going to have one event completely eschew the results, and put even more point value on the already over-valued $10,000 buy-in and above events.

Based on the comments from GPI’s Alexandre Dreyfus on Twitter yesterday, he and the WSOP seem content with this plan and it is in fact what they are aiming for, which is fine. It is their race, and I appreciate that there are different POVs about how POY systems should work, many of which are completely valid even though they differ drastically. Rather than clog the feeds of my friends over Twitter with some of the examples where I disagree with the valuation of performances, I am just going to leave these ten factoids here and let you know I used the numbers from last year’s (or the most recent year’s field in the case of the One Drop High Roller) to do my calculations using the GPI calculator. I promise I won’t talk about it on Twitter anymore unless someone asks. This is me saying my peace and calling it a day.

10 Points to Consider About the WSOP Player of the Year Points:

1. If you min-cash the Main Event in 1,000th place, you will earn 98.45 points. If you win the $500+$65 buy-in Colossus, you get 101.7 points.

2. Three seventh place finishes in $10,000 events with fields of 150 players will earn you just over 900 points. Winning three $1,000 NLHE bracelets in fields of 3,000 earns you 711 points, which isn’t even enough to put you ahead of the Main Event Champion, who gets 782.81 points.

3. Winning the $50,000 Poker Players Championship (PPC) is worth 554.4 points. Tenth place in the Main Event is worth 554.68 points.

4. Winning the $111,111 One Drop High Roller nets you 612.78 points. Min-cashing three $10K non-hold’em events will earn you about the same amount.

5. Winning the $5,000 Six-Handed NLHE event earns you 492.67 points. Coming in second earns you 438.41 points. In most events, it appears the percentage difference between first and second place points is ~9%.

6. If you combined the points of every $1,000 and $1,500 straight NLHE event last year (14 events total), they would have earned 3,961.51 points. If you combined the points earned by the second place finishers in each of the seven $10,000 non-hold’em events, they would have earned  3,025.17. That is 76% of the points for half of the events WITHOUT winning a bracelet. Second place in a $10,000 event earns anywhere from 40 to almost 200 points more than any of those NLHE victories.

7. Win Colossus w/ 20,000 entries, you get 101.7 points. Win a $1,000 NLHE event w/ 2,000 entries, you get 228 points.

8. Say you win Colossus, Little One, Monster Stack, and Milly Maker. That is 1,004.38 points. If you win the One Drop High Roller and take 50th in the Main Event, you’ll earn 1,008.44.

9. The most points someone winning a $1,500 NLHE event can earn is 333.14. That is equivalent to 93rd in the Main Event. The most points someone winning a $1,000 NLHE event can earn is 237.03. That is roughly equivalent to 247th place in the Main Event.  

10. Min-cashes in the One Drop High Roller and Poker Players Championship are worth 231.82 and 238.06 points respectively. In many events, that is more than the winner will earn.

You can decide how you feel about these valuations. I know how I feel about them.

Being May 4th, aka Star Wars Day, I had a number of Catholic or Episcopal nerd friends on Facebook making the same comment I always think to myself: When someone says, “May the Force be with you,” my instinctive reaction is to respond, “And also with you.” Years of Catholic Mass have made these responses second nature. Problem is (and don’t tell Grandma), I don’t go to Mass nearly as often as I did in my youth.

And guess what?

Now this isn’t a problem I encounter just on May 4th or at Star Wars-themed events. It has infiltrated the Church. No, Catholics have not embraced Yoda, but around three years ago, they did overhaul the calls and responses for Catholic Mass in order to adhere more accurately to the (I believe) Aramaic version. Instead of the rote and sensical, “And also with you,” we are now expected to reply, “And with your spirit.” 

I’ve been “with your spiriting” for a while and, even if I went to church on a weekly basis, I guarantee you this phrase would still sound equally bizarre to me. Part of this stems from the fact that my mom has instilled in me the same resistance to change she has. Another part of it is that the reason I prefer Catholicism to other religions is that it feels more academic when I attend, not really a clap your hands, hug your neighbors kind of affair. There are three pre-determined readings, a discussion of how those readings tie together, some fraternal handshaking, a transubstantiated little snack, and we call it an afternoon.

If Mom had her way, Mass would still be said in Latin. I don’t go that far, but I do agree with her that this Catholic bent on making Mass more communal and lovey dovey is simply not my thing. About 15 years ago, there was a trend in churches to hold hands during the reading of the Our Father prayer, lifting them up in rejoicing at the prayer’s conclusion. My mother and I perfected the art of keeping our hands clasped in front of us and our heads firmly bowed down. We were here to learn about Jesus, not touch strangers. Yeah, Catholic means community and all, but that is what the sign of peace is for–a time where you can stealthily and selectively choose whose hands you’re shaking and abruptly turn your back to avoid those who looked like they might still be recovering from the flu.

The Church continues to make these small changes and I am beginning to think it is not this Aramaic nonsense that is causing it. I think the Catholic church is leveraging something it is very good at leveraging–Catholic guilt. When you haven’t been to Mass in a while and belt out the wrong response, you feel like crap. You’ve tipped your hand that you’re a bad Catholic, more than likely embarrassing your family because you are likely at mass for a family occasion like a holiday, wedding, or funeral. They want to remind you how not on the ball you are not going to church every week, forgetting that you can still live the Catholic life without necessarily making it to church on the regular. As Admiral Ackbar would say–”It’s a trap!”

We buried my grandpa, a devout Catholic, this weekend and I heard many cousins besides myself sputter through the different responses as the funeral mass went on. I recalled how this particular church has a penchant for singing every verse of every song, even if there are seven verses, as I tried to sing through the tunes aside from funeral standards “On Eagles Wings” and “How Great Thou Art”, using my childhood piano skills to sight read the music, getting it down along about verse five. My family refers to it as “playing Catholic”, and we even go so far as to compliment clear non-believers or lapsed Catholics on their ability to fake it in front of their elders that they seemingly still go to Mass, bare minimum once a week. I’m pretty good at this game myself. I have the hand gestures down, I know the process of Mass well enough to know what is coming, and I have just taken to singing the songs a little louder to make up for the increased mumbling in my responses. Sometimes though, I still catch myself doing the wrong thing.

The most horrifying moment for me came when I was asked to read the first reading at the funeral. I think our relatives wanted a representative of each child’s family to participate. They also needed three people who are not shy in front of crowds, so I was volunteered to represent the Welmans, which was fine by me. My sister texted me a picture of my reading, which I read over a few times on the way down.

I was up first and stared out at the crowd of 200 or so that gathered in this town of 200 or so to celebrate the life of a man no one hated, nor even disliked. I was so proud to be a part of the tribute to his life. I took a deep breath, looked down, and saw the first line differed from my practice version. Damned translations! I couldn’t tell if this was the correct reading or a different passage from the Book of Job. I panicked for five seconds, wondering if I needed to verify with the priest this was right or just go with the flow, hoping this was thematically in the same ballpark as what I was supposed to say. After about two lines, I realized it was just a different translation of the same reading.

I did my best to fake being a good Catholic this weekend, but I did a bad job at it. Because I may believe the general gist of what the faith has to offer, but these tiny changes keep tripping me up, reminding me that the force isn’t necessarily with me the way it was with Grandpa. But I did show up and try, and honestly, only a couple of people noticed my moment of panic, while most wrote it off to grief.

Once again, the smallest change in wording tripped me up at Mass. I am one who gets mired in the smallest details of every word, so it shouldn’t surprise me that these changes just won’t ever take. The good news for Mom, Grandpa, and me is that the ideas still stick, and as this weekend reminded me, even in the saddest of times, a little time in church can still do me a lot of good.

This weekend, my two best friends from high school are gallavanting around our hometown of Lexington, Kentucky. One is sending me the Platoon Pack of Kentucky Ale. The other offered to hunt down a Kentucky-related t-shirt I wanted. 

We don’t talk all the time, but in March I hear from them on the regular, as we are all UK fans, as people from Lexington are wont to be. This year, the excitement was obviously high, as the team continued an astounding undefeated streak, steamrolled through the SEC regular season and conference tournament, then made history with a 38-0 record..

So, while I am sad that the Cats aren’t going to go 40-0, I can’t be mad about 38-1 and a season full of memories and characters from players I have grown to love so very much.

Of course I am disappointed that Andrew Harrison couldn’t hide his frustrations at the postgame press conference and still needs to a learn a lesson about keeping mum around live mics, but I can understand the frustration and disappointment to feel as though this was his chance to exceed last season and it slipped through his fingers. But let’s not forget what he did against WVU.

Of course, I would love for the Harrisons to come back or even play all four years in an attempt to make four consecutive Final Fours (which would be pretty effing awesome), but I would not be surprised if one or both of them go. Nonetheless, I am grateful for the clutch three-pointers of Aaron Harrison, that stretch this season where it appeared Andrew had a haircut gone bad and was missing a piece of his head, and the fact that Aaron easily could have gone to the draft last year, but decided to stay, leaving this girl to believe he wasn’t going anywhere until his brother was going there with him so they can keep playing Nintendo together.

I am so grateful for the extra year of Willy Cauley-Stein too, who wanted to talk Smash Brothers and defense, said he was more of a raccoon than a lion, and Instagrams a lot about shoes, making him a man I can certainly get on board with. Plus he did this to Cincinnati.

And Karl-Anthony Towns, as anyone who read the ESPN article will know, is basically a 19 year old version of Mother Theresa. Not to mention every time he got the ball in the paint he just backed up, turned around, and made a bucket.

I think I’ll have another year of Marcus Lee stealthily visiting sick children, though I can’t guarantee he’ll keep up the same Target shopping schedule as my friend Jenny. Here’s hoping he gets a little more confident, because that guy is absolutely electric when he plays. C’mon Marcus, no one gets to wear that 00 after you leave, best make the most of it.

I hope for Devin Booker’s sake he comes back, because I think he is a streaky shooter who could use a little more discipline and maturing before heading pro. Plus, he had the Tweet of the tournament after the WVU game:

36 and won

Most of all, I hope that these guys keep bringing the joy and fun along with the victories. It was hard this season being in Vegas without my fellow Kentucky transplants around to watch games with for the first time in five years. But seeing the fun pictures of the Cats trying on goofy shades, wearing funny hats, and smiling and joking around made it plenty of fun.

As one of my friends texted me, the fact we’re going to have Alex Poythress back as a senior, Marcus Lee likely back as a junior, and maybe even retain one or two for the Dakari Johnson/Harrison Twins/Trey Lyles/Tyler Ulis contingent just makes me think I have to patiently wait until next season for more of the same.

As for Coach Cal, hate if you want to, but I see this guy and my other fav, Pete Carroll as one in the same. They go to these kids and say, “So you want to play in the NBA/NFL? I can help you do that. I have contacts, I know what you need to work on, and I can give you the national spotlight needed to make your dreams come true.” And yeah, one and dones aren’t very fun to me and I wish the rules were different, but we only had one of those last season and we may very well only have one of those this season, because it is just so difficult to say goodbye to something as unique and wonderful as being at the heart of Big Blue Nation. Even as someone at the margins of it, I can tell you that the beer-sending and t-shirt hunting friends are hard to come by, and people I will value like sisters for the rest of my life.

So thanks for an awesome season, fellas. Don’t ever forget that 38-1 is still an accomplishment, and what you did off the court speaks just as much as the amazing feats you accomplished on it.

Somehow, it took until yesterday for me to finally watch the David Foster Wallace commencement speech “This Is Water” in its entirety. My friend, Matt Berkey, thought it would be useful for me, as I frequently have lamented to him that I find my mind constantly races on numerous channels at once and I find it difficult to tune it out.

Wallace covers a lot of topics in this brilliant work, but he often returns to this notion that college and higher education helps you choose what to think about.

Wallace claims, “The only thing that’s capital-T True is that you get to decide how you’re going to try to see it. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn’t. You get to decide what to worship…”

He also admits it is tough to make this choice. It is tough to decide not to think about negative things and decide not to worry. I was relieved by the honesty, as I am one of those people who has to actively observe little moments that make me smile, they rarely stumble into my line of sight unnoticed. I typically walk to my mailbox looking at the asphalt, and it is only when I force myself to notice the child next door riding his bike or impressing himself with his light up shoes that I smile at the little things. Wallace is right. It is a learned, conditioned behavior, not something I think to do naturally.

But along about the fifth time Wallace reiterated this choice was possible, I looked at Berkey and asked, “Didn’t this guy kill himself?”

“Yes. He shot himself in the head.”*

“And it doesn’t bother that this guy, who clearly couldn’t choose to get these negative thoughts out of his head completely is telling you that you can?”

“Nope. He did for a while, but like he said, it is hard.”

I’ve spent all night and day thinking about this speech, trying to rationalize these two realities–the speech he gave and the way Wallace died. I am reminded on my mother, who is blessed with something I often claim is the skill I want more than any other skill in the world, which is the ability to choose not to let things bother her, to push it out of her mind. I want to push my doubts about the truth of this speech out of my mind, but I can’t because, every time I reason through it, I get tripped up by Wallace’s demise.

As my mind wrestled with these concepts, I saw many of my friends Tweeting about the new law in Indiana that allows businesses to turn away gay customers. I thought about the old rhetoric around being gay. That it was a choice.

I thought of closeted people who tried to choose to be straight, believing they could force themselves into thinking and wanting something that isn’t natural to them. The thoughts of what they really wanted didn’t go away, they were just pushed back to a channel of your mind that isn’t as loud as your train of thought.

You see, at any given time, I have at least three channels of thought running through my head. There is the forefront, that types these words and admires Wisconsin’s shot faking abilities. Then there is the voice going, “Should you even be typing this, admitting what a weirdo you are that you can’t seem to choose not to be a downer and worry all the time? Then there is that third channel that is a steady stream of worries ranging from the physical health of my friends and family to how I’ll pay my bills this month to what I might do if I was one of those poor people who died in that plane crash in the Alps. I can push things out of the forefront, and, if you can’t tell by my candor, I’ve learned to ignore the second, mostly reticent channel. The third one though, I can try to drum out with noise, but it will always be there.

Which brings me back to Wallace. I want to believe he is right. But to me, his demise and this speech means that isn’t the case. Or, if it is the case, it is unconscionably difficult to maintain this mindset in the long term, that you are probably ignoring issues that need to be addressed. I am grateful that I the voice in the back of my head doesn’t go to deep, dark places–I am anxious, not so much depressed, so while I get overwhelmed with worry and stress when I am faced with a number of difficult life situations, I generally don’t believe that life is awful, more frustrating than anything else . As my mom used to say, "You’re a worrier. It’s your nature.”

So, is a viable solution really to try and drown out that worrisome voice forever, knowing it will almost certainly never disappear entirely? Or is there something to be said for trying to embrace that worry, practicing what I’ve learned is called defensive pessimism, where you try to address your worries by constantly expecting and preparing for the worst case scenario.

I’ve been pursuing the defensive pessimism path for a while, which might explain why I approach this speech with such hesitance and skepticism. So, for the next little while, I am going to try to heed Wallace’s advice and focus on the happy and the positive. I am going to try and expect good things. I am going to embrace those happy moments and try to dwell in them, hoping that quiet little voice in the back of my head will play along and realize it is normal and fine to worry and stress, but that Jessica needs a break every once in a while.

*My friend Robert Wooley kindly corrected me that Wallace actually hung himself, he didn’t shoot himself, which is pertinent given the context of the speech. Thanks, Bob!

Before I left my mom and sister’s house after my last visit,I lamented to my sister Debbie that her two kids had never come to visit me in Vegas. This is understandable considering the cost of tickets and the fact youcan’t really put a five year old or a 12 year old on a plane by themselves, so
it means someone would have to take time off work to travel with them.

The younger of the two, whom I lovingly call Charlie and
lovingly calls me Charlie, had bonded a lot on this trip, so I was particularly
sad to say goodbye to this very loving and cuddly little guy who always blew
kisses, said I love you, and made me feel like the coolest person ever.

The night before I left, Charlie was in my mom’s room with
Mom and me and I told him he needed to go tell his mommy we’d decided he’s coming
to visit. He smiled mischievously and toddled down to her room. Debbie returned
with Charlie in tow and asked how we planned to pay for this.

“Come here Charlie,” I told him. He obediently did and I whispered
something in his ear. He turned to his mom and explained, “I’ll go in a box.”
Then he turned back to me as he said it and repeated it, confused. “I’ll go in
a box?”

Debbie and I decided to have a little fun and proceeded to
tell him we would put some snacks in the box, maybe a blanket and a pillow, and
assured little Charlie we’d poke some air holes in there too.

“If you’re really good, maybe Mommy will splurge and
overnight you to my house.”

………

That was about three weeks ago. The box hasn’t come up in
discussion but maybe once since then, that is, until today. Being in the midst
of a really long week, I told my sister over Skype that I missed Charlie and
could use a hug. Minutes later, the phone rang. It was him.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” he said in the tone of voice where
you can hear someone smiling. “I giving you a hug.” I phone-hugged him back and
told him thank you for being so sweet. We talked a little more and I learned
next week was his spring break. While his big brother goes on a class trip to
DC and New York, Charlie is going to day camp.

“Tell Mommy camp is cancelled,” I told him. “You’re coming
to visit me instead, okay?” He laughed and cheered at the change of plans, then
took the phone back to my sister. I could hear him tell her something before
handing the cell back over, but I wasn’t sure what.

Debbie got back on the phone and I asked if Charlie had told
her about the change in plans. She laughed and said, “He came into my room and
said, ‘Mommy, get the box ready.’”

I wish it was not child abuse to ship a child to me in a box, but in the
meantime, I will more than settle for the fact there is a five year old out
there who heard Aunt Charlie needed a hug and immediately came to my rescue
with both a phone call and an impressive throwback reference to a joke that is
almost a month old.

I said on Twitter that I wasn’t planning on doing a thoroughOscar prediction post, but I figured I ought to at least prognosticate on themajor categories so I can either look like a genius or the moron I appeared to
be post-Golden Globe.

If you don’t know me, know this: I am not a member of the
entertainment industry, though I used to be. I am, however, obsessed with Oscar
history, marketing of Oscar nominees, and movies in general, particularly the “prestige”
pictures that come with Oscar season. So, take these picks with a grain of
salt, but I will offer my rationale on each of them in an attempt to win you
over to my selection.

Here goes…

Best Picture

Nominees:
American Sniper
Birdman
Boyhood
The Grand Budapest Hotel
The Imitation Game
Sema
The Theory of Everything
Whiplash

Winner: Birdman. Most concede this is a two-horse race of
the movies that start with a B. I genuinely thought Boyhood was gonna sew this
up early in the awards season, but things are going Birdman’s way because it
seems there are other people like myself who find Boyhood to be good and
groundbreaking, but lacking in areas like screenplay. The feat of Boyhood is in
performance and direction, which is where it will be rewarded.

I will note that Vegas and many other prognosticators are
claiming Imitation Game is the flick to pull off the upset. I’m going
contrarian and giving that honor to American Sniper. I know the Academy. The
Academy is full of old, White people who love Clint Eastwood. Plus, while everyone has told
me Imitation Game is good (full disclosure: haven’t seen it or Selma yet), no
one has raved about it the way I have heard and read people rave about Sniper.

Best Directing

Nominees:
Wes Anderson – The Grand Budapest Hotel
Alejandro Inarritu  – Birdman
Richard Linklater – Boyhood
Bennett Miller – Foxcatcher
Morten Tyldum – The Imitation Game

Winner: Richard Linklater. Picture and Director used to be
categories that went hand in hand, but lately, the Academy seems to split its
vote, perhaps in an attempt to honor two very good films. We have that instance
here and, as I mentioned before, the real achievements of Boyhood are in the direction
and the dedication Linklater gave to the project, so this will be his
consolation prize when he loses Best Pic.

Best Actor

Nominees:

Steve Carell – Foxcatcher
Bradley Cooper – American Sniper
Benedict Cumberbatch – The Imitation Game
Michael Keaton – Birdman
Eddie Redmayne – The Theory of Everything

Winner: Michael Keaton. Odds are favoring Redmayne, who made
a late surge after Keaton came on strong at Globes and Critics Choice. This is
understandable, as Redmayne won the SA, which is a reliable Oscar predictor. I’m
still going Keaton though, because I think the rationale of, “who knows when we’ll
get a chance to honor him again?” comes into play, while Redmayne is an up and
coming youngster whose best work may still be ahead of him (off topic, but I
found his performance a bit overrated, like a My Left Foot redux, and I think
many Academy voters are a bit tired of these “Oscar-bait” roles too).

Best Actress

Nominees:
Marion Cotillard – Two Days, One Night
Felicity Jones – The Theory of Everything
Julianne Moore – Still Alice
Rosamund Pike – Gone Girl
Reese Witherspoon – Wild

Winner: Julianne Moore has this thing in the bag. She’s been
nominated four times and never done, so this is what we call a “paid my dues”
Oscar. She’s won pretty much everything. If anyone were to beat her, I’d guess
it is Witherspoon, but honestly, it isn’t gonna happen.

I’m not even gonna go into Supporting Actor and Actress. We
all know JK Simmons and Patricia Arquette are even more stone cold locks than Julianne
Moore is. Sorry, fellow nominees, just picked a bad year to give a good
performance in a movie.

Best Original Screenplay

Nominees:
Birdman
Boyhood
Foxcatcher
The Grand Budapest Hotel
Nightcrawler

Winner: The Grand Budapest Hotel. The Academy likes to
spread the wealth and this gem of a film from Wes Anderson’s best shot at a
trophy is here, a category where he has been nominated before. Can I also note
that it seems a little bizarre that Foxcatcher is based on a real person’s life
but isn’t considered an adaptation, while Whiplash is an original story that
just started out as a short film for fundraising purposes, but ended up in the
adapted category.

Adapted Screenplay

Nominees
American Sniper
The Imitation Game
Inherent Vice
The Theory of Everything
Whiplash

Winner: The Imitation Game. For the same reasoning as original, I am thinking adapted goes to The
Imitation Game, who needs to win something and isn’t going to in the other
major categories. American Sniper might get its nod here too, but given the controversy
surrounding Chris Kyle’s real life, I am going with the period drama. Others
are saying Whiplash, which I would love because that movie is just incredible,
but given its weird categorization snafu, I think it is gonna end up on the
outside looking in.

Alright kids, those are my two cents, here’s hoping I don’t
look too stupid tomorrow. If you want a smattering of other suggestions, I
think Ida takes Best Foreign Film, Selma has Best Original Song taken care of
and, even though it is a sequel, How to Drain Your Dragon 2 edges out Big Hero
6 for Best Animated Feature. There’s my trifecta of randoms. Happy Oscaring!

A lot of us are confused too, Meryl Streep

You may have gone to the theaters over the holidays or in recent weeks to see “Into the Woods”. Perhaps you liked the idea of mixed up fairy tales or you enjoyed musicals. Perhaps someone like myself told you it is one of the best American musicals ever.

Then you may have left the theater wondering what exactly people like me meant. Some of the songs were fun, sure, but why did the movie seem to have 15 endings like Return of the King? Well, let me implore you to listen as I explain the problem is not the source material, it is in the adaptation. And don’t be so quick to say the movie is bad, because honestly, this movie languished in development for years for the very same reason–it is not an easy musical to adapt because it is designed to work on the Broadway stage, not the big screen. Let me explain and answer some other questions that might help you understand what you didn’t love about “Into the Woods”:

Why didn’t the movie just end after the cow made that potion and Cinderella got married?

Believe it or not, this is the end of the first act of the play. The instrumental music you hear as Cinderella passes the Baker and his wife on the way to the palace is “Ever After”, a 2:20 song that effectively wraps up all the stories, with each person ostensibly living happily ever after. When this musical is shortened for what is called “school” performances" or children’s versions of the shows so kids can see them and not go insane watching a three hour show, they typically just do the first act and call it a day.

Thing is, thematically, all of the interesting stuff (and some of the best songs) come in Act II, which resumes MONTHS after Act I concludes in the play, not a day or two like in the movie. So, rather than give the second act the hour plus that it needs to fully develop, this plot of the giant attacking the land gets squeezed into the last 35 minutes or so in order to satisfy the fans and try to finish up with the thematic notions that wishes aren’t always what they cracked up to be, that parent-child relationships are complicated, and that fairy tales never tell you that things might go bad after “Ever After”.

Did Cinderella know all along that the prince was a faker and charming, but not sincere? They never seemed to really be in love and he cheated on her like two seconds later.

As I mentioned, Cinderella and the prince were married a good year or so in the play before he went and made out with the baker’s wife in the woods. What you also don’t get to see in the movie is that both Cinderella’s prince and Rapunzel’s prince actually get restless and get a wondering eye with Cinderella’s prince falling for Sleeping Beauty and Rapunzel’s prince falling for Snow White, presented in a hilarious reprise of the song “Agony”. And, as you notice in Anna Kendrick’s beautiful rendition of “On the Steps of the Palace”, she wanted out of her life, but she was never entirely sure this was the guy for her.

So Rapunzel runs off with her man and leaves her Mom the witch to just…die? Seems like she would go out with more of a bang, right?

Okay, another huge departure from the play. In the play, Rapunzel actually dies. She runs into the giant’s path and gets trampled, prompting the Witch to sing the same song you see Streep sing in the song after her daughter leaves her. Makes a lot more sense that she was so sad, right? In the movie, she seems a little selfish, whereas in the play, it is about the fact that the world is a scary place and as a parent, the Witch was just trying to protect her from the scary world by locking her away and it blew up in her face. In the play, she returns at the end to revise her “Children won’t lisen” refrain to “Children will listen.”

There are a lot of random ghosts in this movie, huh? Cinderella’s mom, the Baker’s wife, the random appearance of the Baker’s dad. What’s the deal?

You’re right. There are a lot of ghosts in the play too. But in the play Cinderella’s mom is more a voice in her head than a ghost. And in the play, well, the father character is a LOT more complicated.

You see, in the play there is an old guy who kid of pops up now and then that ends up being the Baker’s dad. To make things even weirder, this guy also plays the Narrator. Yeah, there is a guy who stands downstage and narrates the action, much like the Baker’s voice over does in the movie. At one point, the cast even decides to feed him to the giant in an attempt to get her to go away. I’m not kidding. So it isn’t as out of left field as in the movie. What I found especially strange is that the ghost dad shows up to deliver the moral of don’t repeat my mistakes, but they can’t invest the two minutes in singing “No More”, which is one of my favorite numbers from the show.

So, hopefully that explains some of the confusing spots. As for how to deal with the weirdly truncated second act…I don’t know if I have a good answer. I typically hate splitting books up into two movies, but in the case of “Into the Woods”, I really don’t know how you do it without having a Part I and a Part II and just releasing them maybe a month apart? For me, the first act is all fun, but the second act is where the morals and the life lessons get dispatched. While many things were cut from the first to squeeze down time, I feel like too much was sacrificed from the second for audiences unfamiliar with the show not to tear up during “No One Is Alone” or to feel the Witch’s heartbreak in her “Lament”. I laud the cast and crew for the attempt and give a massive shoutout to Anna Kendrick for making me care about Cinderella for the first time ever and Emily Blunt for putting a whole new spin on a role Joanna Gleason defined in her initial Broadway run. And I’ll give Meryl a good hustle, but I am sorry, I simply cannot agree that this movie wouldn’t have been infinitely better with the original Witch, Bernadette Peters, reprising her role, bewitching us with the songs that make this probably my favorite musical of all time.

If you are curious about the actual musical and it isn’t coming to your area any time soon, the Original Broadway Cast has a recording available for rental on Amazon and it really is a treasure to watch.

And in case you’re curious, this is “No More”, the song the Baker sings with his dad shortly before they try to kill the giant: