Carol Queen

I was at an NCSF (National Coalition for Sexual Freedom) fundraiser and got to hear Carol Queen speak. She continues to be a source of inspiration. I love San Francisco! I miss being an active volunteer and member of the community, but I will be back soon.

For those who don't know about Carol Queen, you can check her out on a number of sites:
to "meet" her
to see her blog (and her sexy, studious look)
to learn about the Center for Sex and Culture (co-founded with Robert Lawrence)
to see the Good Vibrations site (or the Wikipedia entry)

Hooray for the sex-positive individuals and industry!

HereAfterHere

I had the great privilege of working with Tandy Beal while I attended UC Santa Cruz. She is one of the most generous and vibrant individuals I have ever met. She has a particular gift for creating community. Her latest project is a piece entitled HereAfterHere. You can add your story or comments on her webpage and it may be used in the piece.

One of my favorite Tandy performances was a piece about mental illness she performed in class at the end of the term. Tandy is a tall, graceful and striking woman (she was the movement model for The Nightmare Before Christmas). There was a moment when she put her hands in her pockets and flipped her skirt to reveal that her pockets were hand-puppets. The fluidity of her movements, the unexpected in her choreography, and the vulnerability in hiding herself to express through the puppets combined into an incredibly moving moment.

For those who are interested, HereAfterHere will premier at UC Santa Cruz in Autumn 2007. I hope to see you there!

Ariela Morgenstern

For those who have not had the pleasure, I hope you do. Ariela mezzo-soprano who will be relocating to New York in 2007. With a strong is a vibrant and scintillatingrepertoire of Kurt Weill songs, she does not shy away from the personalisation, the pain or the pleasure in a song. Her performances are not showy or arrogant, but a wonderful integration of ability and performativity. She is a presence and a force. I hope you get the opportunity to see and hear her in action.

The Mandarin Playboy

From the company that brought us Oedipus Loves You, there now comes a production of J.M. Synge's legendary Playboy of the Western World set in the outskirts of Beijing. The production is in Mandarin with English supertitles and a Chinese cast. It already performed in China and caused some scandal because the women's skirts were so short. It was the first production of this play that I have ever seen, although I have read it multiple times. They captured some of the iconic moments while being overtly presentational at times. This seemingly blatant self-reflexive staging (not to mention the mirrors along the back side of the set which meant the audience was visible on-stage) allowed for an almost campy postmodern commentary and counterpoint to the moments of charged and sincere emotion. There was an oscillation throughout the performance that worked for me, perhaps because it is a text that is well known. As with most genre pieces, it's not about what will happen but HOW. And that is what was so fun about this production: how they made it work so well.

You can see stills from the production of Playboy on the Pan Pan webpage and hear songs (written by Dublin-based band Gordon Is a Mime) from Oedipus Loves You.

Holiday hurrahs and farewells

It is really difficult to get any work done because there are so many parties and good-byes. Gabry leaves tomorrow morning for Italy; Mary leaves on Thursday; Barra is going back to London next week. Everyone is in this flurry of shopping and general madness downtown. There were enormous queues over the weekend, especially at the ATMs. Much as I enjoy the spirit of goodwill and whatnot, I don't like being trapped in the throngs of aimless wanderers, especially when there are a enough manic shoppers trying to push through the crowds.

It's enough to make me stay inside all day. It is definitely cold enough to make me consider the option...

Potential for awkwardness

I finally sent a postcard to the bakery where I used to work. I've been meaning to send that for more than two months and finally did it last week. I included personal hellos to a couple of the employees, but didn't include a third person's name because I don't know if she still works there. So in an attempt to not make it awkward, I may have succeeded inadvertently by omitting her name. I may need to do a bit of recon so I can let Claire know that I didn't forget her; I just started thinking too much about potential awkwardness of calling attention to staff that was no longer there and then decided to just finish the message and deal with it later.

I did select a postcard of the thoroughly-busty Molly Maguire statue because I thought it would make Michael laugh.

Adding Color to the department

Gabry has decided that, not only do we need to enliven the discussions within the department and support student work, but we need to add more color. In an attempt to realise this goal, she purchased sweatshirts for herself, Mary, and me. Ostensibly they are Christmas gifts.

There was a bit of hilarity as we all stripped off our layers of clothing to try on different sweatshirt sizes and colors. Ultimately, we all opted for light blue Trinity sweatshirts which we will all wear to the first postgraduate seminar of 2007. In Gabry's mind we will resemble a cheerleading section. And we probably will. Or a giggle section. Either way, it will enliven the 10 a.m. meeting.

CAKE

As if I needed further confirmation, I have affirmed my love for Cake. Walking around Trinity College Dublin in my iPod-induced bubble I can rock out whenever I want. Again and again, I have been turning to Cake. Perhaps it's because they inspire a sense of home; perhaps the simply concretise emotions I wanted to feel. Whatever the reason, I love their music more each time I listen to it.

I spent an absurd amount of time on YouTube the other night cruising for videos. I believe the 'I Will Survive' video was filmed in San Francisco. I mean, that's the DPT logo in San Francisco and some of the streets look quite familiar...

They only have a New Year's gig listed. And they have delayed the release of their next album. Thankfully their latest (Pressure Chief) will keep me busy for a while longer. Someday I will write something about how amazing I find their music. Not today. Today I will simply express my appreciation without much substantiation.

Beginning Undergraduate Directors

Trinity College Dublin has an interesting curriculum for undergraduates. Those interested in directing must take a course that culminates in a ten-minute piece. If all goes well, the student advances to a course that culminates in a twenty-minute piece. If that goes well, the student gets to do one of the hour-long pieces I have been seeing in the past two weeks. It's a nice continuity and encourages students to develop a vision.

There is also a course on devising that culminates in a five minute performance. All term the students keep log books and devise a performance together. Not much theory, mostly practice. I saw a powerful piece that was movement to music (no dialogue) with four dancers featuring our man Barra and a gal who was going to volunteer at the conference but got ill. (Elizabeth is very sweet, too!)

I have been impressed with the work I have seen, particularly with the students who are clearly wrestling with a vision larger than staging a text. One student, Chris (who played Alan in Equus), did a beautiful piece (Wolfgang and Leah: you would've loved it!). He told me about it one evening and so I went to support him. It was great to be there, to validate the work they are doing. Gabry mentioned that more faculty should be going to the student performances; guess every theatre department wrestles with that issue.

Goodbye Michelmas term!

Had my last class last night and the M.Phil.s all went to dinner together before we part ways for a couple weeks. (Excellent idea, Nick!) After our CITIC seminar, in which we always have lively conversation and go over the one-hour allotted time, we hurried to the restaurant for our reservation. We had a very nice meal and laughed lots. Then we adjourned to a pub for another couple hours.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, these women as amazing! The guys are lovely as well, don't get me wrong. But there is nothing like being in the presence of four women who are all in sync, if only for a moment. I'm very glad that we all get on well; it will be much easier to jump into Hilary term with these bonds forming.

Threepenny Opera

Another student show! There was some concern about it being under-rehearsed, but the show and the concept with which the group was working left lots of space for rough theatre. (Thank you Peter Brook.) It was the Brecht-Weill version and it was an enjoyable hour. It was ambitious and it succeeded in some ways. They did try to play up a love between Tiger Brown and Macheath; it was successful when it remained subtext. They tried to make it overt and then it fell apart. As usual, the women had stronger voices than the men. Overall, it was a nice time and a show that accommodated their under-rehearsed moments with relative ease.

Challenging Integrity and Ability

I realise that graduate school is about independent research, but, for those who don't know this, I will reveal a detail of the limitations of this independence. The research must, on some level, be pitched for the evaluators in order to have success. This is no revelation to most individuals, no matter in what field s/he works, but it is often overlooked in academics.

In preparing my presentation on Doubt in Ireland, I gathered a multitude of information that was interesting (thanks Karen!!), but couldn't be included in the final presentation because of space/time constraints and content restrictions (i.e. I needed to emphasise the contemporary Irish context because that was the course for which I was doing the work and the context in which my worked would be evaluated).

Now I am continuing my research into Tom Murphy's The Blue Macushla (thanks to Nora and my Dad for the ideas!), but am realising that I need to focus my efforts into what will fit the course requirements. If I choose to focus on theory, I must pick a theory covered in my course and ensure that enough of the paper is devoted to that theory; if I focus on theatre in Ireland, I must ensure that most of the paper is historically relevant within that context (a more vague and subjective context for assessment).

I figure it's like trying to get into a book or a conference: I must make sure the work I create meets the 'commissioning agency' interests. And, hopefully, it will also meet my interests. That is my challenge: to fulfill the course requirements while fulfilling my goals.

Getting into the Holiday Spirit

'Tis the season for decorations of tinsel and pine, of shiny glass and twinkling lights. When I was walking down D'Olier Street yesterday, I was enjoying the crisp, cool air as I watched some men unloading a tree from the roof of their van. There were three of them to manage a tree of 8-10 feet (I haven't gone metric yet, sorry!). I watched them cut the ropes and then the two men on the roof tossed the tree towards the man on the ground. It hit the sidewalk a few feet from me as I was walking past. The men apologised for almost landing the tree on me and we laughed that I would've been a sacrifice to the holiday spirit.

My presentation on Doubt

I did my presentation on John Patrick Shanley's play Doubt this evening for one of my courses. It was at least my fourth version of the presentation. I had created some graphs on his use of exclamation points and question marks, but cut the graphs out of my presentation last night because it was tangental to the contemporary Irish context I had to use as the thrust of my argument. I ended up talking about his stage directions which was interesting, but not as cool to look at or to discuss. But, after my presentation, there was a period of silence in what was supposed to be a question-and-answer period so I showed the graphs until someone asked a question. The playwriting students were particularly thrilled that I took the time to do that.

I don't know my mark yet, but the feedback has been good. Now I need to write my presentation as a paper and then I am done for the moment. I had a wonderful time. The second play in Shanley's trilogy on American hierarchy is Defiance and it will be at the Pasadena Playhouse next season. It already played in New York. I am very excited to read it and to continue my relationship with Shanley's nuanced and personal work.

Out of Harm's Way

This is the second piece in the repertory dance performance at the Project Arts Center. Everyone raves about the choreographer of this one (as opposed to the other choreographer who was a guest choreographer). It was great! The space was a partial room completely covered in this damask rose pattern. The walls, the door, the armoire, the window sills, the window shades, the lamp shades, the couch. There were a couple hidden doors in the walls. A guy entered from over the top of the flats. There was a mime in a suit with large spots, some of which fell off during the performance. (That dancer reminded me of Cason.) It was all the same dancers from the other piece, but this choreography really showed off what they could do.

There was this point in which a woman was kinda sleep walking on chairs that three of the men kept rearranging as she stepped and then they put her on the wall and she walked perpendicularly along the wall while two men supported her over their heads. She walked across two of the walls which meant turning a corner. And then she sat on the top of the armoire for the next five or ten minutes.

Lots of hetero sexuality in this piece, like the other one.

There were multi-lingual parts (one dancer is Spanish, one is Italian, one is German, and I think the rest are Irish). There were lots of amazing choreographed fights that weren't about making contact, but they clearly were moving in response to each other.

I'm very glad I saw this one after the other one because I would've been devastated if I had seen them in the other order.

Ah children...

I was having breakfast this morning and chose a table in the corner for myself. Across from me was a family: the parents still finishing their food, the children screeching giddy peals of laughter as they played some hugging-tickling-smooching game. There is something amazing about the decibel level that is acceptable in when it's children's laughter. (Contrast this with less than ten minute later when the focus of self-entertainment shifted to something with the occasional outburst that was more forced, less a by-product of fun at which point Mum said to quiet down.)

Then, as I returned to the Reading Room, I passed a family presumably finished viewing the Book of Kells. One little boy was animating a toy through the air while singing the phrase, 'Fish for sale' repeatedly. He seemed very happy about this little lyric and was performing it, but also could tell that the attention towards him had waned even though he was still enjoying it.

This is part of why I am hesitant to have children. I appreciate these moments so much, I fear I will get caught up in quotidian concerns and forget to appreciate the magic and wonderment of the moment.

It's December

On my ride home this evening, some rowdy gents ushered in December with a chorus of Christmas carols. I got to hear 'Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer', 'White Christmas', 'Away in a Manger', 'Last Christmas' (which is quite popular here), and a few other tunes that I forget. Not that I forget the songs, mind, just the titles. I was giggling away, though, because they were so loud and off-key and jolly in their drunken/belligerent state.

I also got to hear the 'no smoking' message on the bus for the first time. Yes, they were smoking, too, those multi-tasking Dubliners!

And, yes, they do also sing the 'like Monopoly' line in 'Rudolph'.

The Isolated World of the iPod

I was given an iPod for Christmas last year. I wanted it, knew I would enjoy it, but didn't open it until yesterday. Most folks are shocked by this. There were a number of reasons along the way and I don't regret my decision. On the contrary, I think I opened it at just the right moment. I am in the process of writing papers and preparing a presentation and find myself distracted, overstimulated, and annoyed by people while I am trying to articulate something I have yet to put into my own concise words. I wore my yellow baseball hat earlier this week, which, as some of you know, is usually something I do when I want a bit of distance from the world. (My Giant's hat is worn for fun and pleasure only.) There is something about the yellow hat, the visibility of the bill sticking out over my face, shielding me just a bit, reminding me that I can find a space small enough to feel secure, manageable, simple.

And now I can achieve that bubble with my music or comedy. It's like listening to my friends, and I get to select what they say. I get to control the input at least this little bit. (Anyone out there remember the desk day?) So I listened to Dane Cook on my way to school, to Segovia play guitar while I wrote my paper today, and to Cake after I finished my work for the day. And I had my loved ones with me in my heart when I listened to songs with which I have a history, an appreciation, a respect.

I will not choose the bubble all the time. Sometimes I will choose the uncontrollable world around me and whatever comes my way in the moment. But for right now, the bubble suits me just fine.

Dream of Autumn

For those who are following the theatre adventures, Dream of Autumn is the latest production by Rough Magic. This one went through their SEEDS program. It's a translation of a Norwegian play by Jon Fosse who is evidently the most produced playwright in his country after Ibsen. The advert is a church yard/cemetery, slightly neglected, no names on the stones, taken in a well-lit haze if that makes any sense.

The title suits the piece. It was a semiologist's fantasy! The stage was wide and black with glass at the back wall and a path of brilliant, jagged, turquoise glass stones the size and shape of stones often found in garden landscaping. They crunched when they were walked on and they caught the light as if they were ice or snow. There was one black bench on stage right. At the beginning and at the end water came down the glass at the back.

The piece used time in an interesting way. It ran for ninety minutes without an interval. The piece was always on the cusp of death, often wrestling with love that was, but isn't as it was anymore. And moments kept slipping into the past without realising it until they were already passed. Again, the title suited the piece.

It left lots of space to be filled, lots of awkwardness and frustration that wasn't always spoken. The body language, the silences, the not looking or touching...it all accumulated and gained meaning. The space made many people uncomfortable and the show dragged at points, but, for me, that awkwardness was part of my desire for change, for effective speech, for contact that both people desperately want by will not, seemingly cannot name, accept, or have.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

As part of the same student festival in which the production of Equus was done last week, this week I saw an abbreviated Cuckoo's Nest. Given these were students (i.e. novice directors and actors), it was a decent production. Whoever shortened the script, however, made a grievous error, in my humble opinion, by omitting the water cooler-thing. For those who know the story, I wonder if you are as upset as I am about it.

It was interesting to see two productions of psychosis in two weeks. Playing crazy is dangerous territory for an actor because there are lots of indicating illness that come up rather than embodying it. Some of the students handled it quite well. The accents were hilarious! Southern US accents coming out of Irish students. Some of them were quite good. I have mixed feelings about the Chief's accent. The tattoo on his back was great, though, and an interesting choice for helping to establish credibility for this actor who doesn't fit stereotypical Native American looks.

There was some very irresponsible stage combat. (Mary, you would've been so upset!) I almost went to find the director, but they only have two more performances. I may make casual inquiries tomorrow, mostly for the actor's safety. After a dangerous stomach punch, I was anxious in the back of my mind for the rest of the piece until the strangle moment came. And, as expected, it was completely unsafe.

I am glad I went to see it, if only to be reminded how much I enjoyed Ken Kesey's book (which was not credited on the flier). If anyone knows the story behind the adaptation, please let me know. It seems odd to me that Kesey, who is a playwright, didn't adapt his own book for the stage.

Brassed Off!

I don't know if you've seen it, but it's a great movie. And the soundtrack is beautiful! I have been wanting to get it for years, but never managed to find it or remember when I was at a music store. Thanks to a family subsidising of my music collection (thanks S, B, F and C!) I bought the Brassed Off! soundtrack on iTunes. (Incidentally, the monologue at the beginning of Chumbawamba's 'Tubthumping' is Pete Postlethwaite in this movie.)

I listened to it this morning and started thinking about the movie which meant that I started getting really emotional because there is one point in the movie during which I *always* cry. Much like Billy Elliot, it's one that touches that little spot that I don't realise is sensitive until it happens. And it happens every time. And that's part of why I love those movies. They are magical and quotidian at once. Like me. =)

progressing through Doubt

I am working on my presentation for one of my courses which will be on the recent Abbey Theatre production in the context of contemporary Irish theatre. I can assure you that I have done extensive analysis of the script (hooray for semiotics!). Of course, now I am trying to decide how to frame the presentation. I started my PowerPoint presentation last week with lots of tasteful animation.

I am one-third into my paper that is supposed to be my presentation typed up, but will probably be a structured paper from which I will essentialise the points of my presentation. The trick is the paper cannot be more than 3,000 words and the presentation cannot be longer than 20 minutes. So I can't get into any significant depth.

But I do have graphs to make a point about the deliberate writing of John Patrick Shanley that I will use in my paper and in my presentation, if only as an appendix to reinforce my point that this play is carefully constructed with layers of intention and possible interpretations. I mean, who doesn't want to have a theatre presentation with line graphs?!?!

I think I just qualified for a promotion to a new level of nerdiness.

Post-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving

I can't believe I forgot to post this!

On Sunday last, three native-US gals and one native Italian gathered in Dublin, Ireland to have a Post-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving. As there were only four of us and turkeys must be special ordered (and are usually only available at Christmas time), we had a chicken. I made my grandmother's stuffing, mashed potatoes, fresh cranberry sauce, roast chicken, and gravy.

The gravy is possibly the item of which I am most proud. Knowing it wouldn't produce as much liquid for gravy-making, I opted added white wine to the roasting pan (which was glass with a lid). I added slices of onion, a little butter, and sprigs of rosemary and thyme. When the chicken was done, I added a little flour and had plenty of tasty gravy.

We did have green beans, but I forgot to cook them and we decided we had plenty of food already and would all agree to eat more green vegetables the next day to compensate for the lack of them (although there is lots of parsley in my grandmother's stuffing).

Nice chat on the bus

I met a nice woman waiting for the bus last night. We started chatting while we were waiting and found out we live in the same town. So I sat next to her for the ride home. It was like talking with my grandmother, except she didn't know me at all. But she asked about my studies and said that I will be a famous as Garry Hynes someday (the Director of Druid Theatre in Galway and an internationally known theatre director--first woman to get a Tony Award for directing, too). She said my parents must be very proud of me. We also talked about the unfortunate rate of failed marriages and how young people don't know how to talk through problems with calm voices and respect for each other. It was a nice conversation and I was glad I could accompany her most of the way to her home on such a late journey. As we parted she said I am a lovely young woman.

Dublin Farmer's Market

I finally made it to the Dublin Farmer's Market today which was probably the best thing I could've done to get centered. For those who don't know, in addition to juggling, puppetry, burlesque, musicals and...odd whatnot, Farmer's Markets join the ever-growing ranks of the other quasi-guilty pleasures I have.

This trip to the market was made even better because I bought a couple kilos of Irish apples. It should get me through the week and be a continuing source of centering, soul- and body-nurturing comfort.

For those who don't know, I am an apple fiend. My favorite: Gravenstiens. yum.

Why are there only crap children's books?

I have been attempting to locate some 'Irish' books to bring home to my family. What better gift from an academically-minded Auntie/Daughter, right? And, why not find something uniquely Irish!

This becomes an issue because 1. a significant portion of my studies is deconstructing the formation of cultural stereotypes, particularly in Irish literature/theatre, and 2. most Children's books are morally questionable or uninteresting. I will elaborate on my frustrations for those who feel I am making a big deal out of nothing (mostly so you will have a 'big deal' to reinforce your astute observation).

Example 1: I considered bringing my Mom a little collection of Oscar Wilde children's stories. Ignoring the fact that Wilde spent most of his life in England and, while having been born in Ireland, didn't necessarily continue to define himself by his nation of origin thereby making it of questionable value as an 'Irish' gift-- okay, right, ATTEMPTING to ignore this minor question of how to define Wilde's nationality of choice (if he even had one), I was delighted to read The Happy Prince after wading through lots of crap picture books. As I approached the end, I began to have doubt about purchasing the book because I was vaguely aware that the ending (which I couldn't quite recall) would be problematic. Sure enough, the story is wrapped up with God sending an Angel...while it's a lovely story that I continue to value, personally, I feel it is inappropriate to give an explicitly religious story when I know the school where it will be used is secular.

Problem two: I found a book about a giant living in Kerry in 'old times' that looked promising, especially with the prominent seal for an award it had received. In the story, the village people find the giant to be a nice enough individual but his size was a problem. For numerous reasons all stemming from the awkwardness of his size, they approached the King of Kerry for a solution. He approached the Druid, gave him a bag of gold, and asked the Druid to sort this out. So the Druid makes a stew with lots of herbs and whatnot to make the giant fall asleep. Unknowingly, the giant accepts the invitation to dinner, eats the stew, and goes to sleep for a couple hundred years. Over the years, dirt and grass build up on top of him and he becomes an island that is quite popular with the tourists. When he wakes up, everyone is very upset, particularly the tourists who are terrified of the giant and angry that the scenic vista was ruined. An angry mob gather outside the tourism office to decide on a solution (one person hold a sign reading 'Giants are bad for business'). They decide someone must go talk with the giant; a little girl volunteers. As the helicopter drops her near the giant, she thinks to herself that it would be great fun to have a giant for a friend, but everyone is so upset that she should stick to the plan. The giant is crying and very sad because no one likes him; the girl says that is not true because people used to travel from around the world to see him when he was sleeping. The giant is very happy to learn this and willingly consumes stuff to make him sleep again.

Maybe I'm too sensitive. Maybe it's more of that hormone-influenced emotion. But I cannot in good conscience purchase either of those works (for VERY different reasons). Unfortunately, I have more stories about the sad state of affairs in the world of children's literature, but these two seemed to provide a bit of insight into the matter. And I would probably end up in a fit of anger or a heap of sobs if I went into more examples at this moment.

If you have any books to recommend to renew my faith in children's books, please let me know. I welcome that burst of hope!

Threads (part one)

I don't have all the info on this show because I don't have the program with me, but I'll give you the basic rundown on 'Hanging on by a Thread'. This was one show of two put on by the same dance company with (as I understand it) the same dancers in both, although there are two different choreographers. It's a Dublin-based company and the choreographer for the other piece is the Artistic Director David Bolger.

It was the most Modern Dance-heavy show I have seen in a while. Maybe it's just that there was lots of Merce Cunningham movements (with whom Mel Wong worked for all those UCSC folks who are picturing dance performances from college days-gone-by) and that's my strongest experience with Modern styles. The dancers were very good; I am interested to see more of their work while I am in Dublin.

The show was, unfortunately, longer than my attention span. There were interesting transitions in movement (from group doing same movements to the breakdown of that movement into individuals in shared space but moving out of sync; from group movement on a shared theme to different combinations and juxtapositions of theme/style/speed of movement; from individuals to a couple to two couples doing different qualities of weight-exchange movements). And there were a few very striking pieces. But, overall, it was more than I was prepared to experience, especially when I was opposing (or problematising) a narrative in my head.

Interesting moments were when the two couples danced in the same space without interaction and then met in the middle and switched partners to recreate moments from the other couple's choreography. In some ways, the production needed to be lengthy to establish layers of emotion, to build trust.

There was also an excellent use of metal balls and red string. Visually and aurally arresting moments...that were a relief after extended periods during which I felt unclear on the goal or context of vignettes within the larger piece. Maybe I am simply out of practice for dance shows. Maybe I am uninterested in another piece about the emotional and relationship stresses incurred because of the destruction around us. Maybe it's just that I am in the throes of a hormonally-enhanced emotional day and I kept a barrier betwixt myself and the performance. Maybe I need to see the other piece (which is being performed in rep with this one) in order to understand.

Happy Thanksgiving!

It is interesting being in a foreign country on a holiday distinctly associated with the United States of America. It is increasingly interesting to be surrounded by other US citizens and their varied experiences and associations with the holiday. It's clear some folks neither to the family thing nor the cooking thing, both of which I am missing today.

I wouldn't say it was really in celebration of the day, but I worked all day and then ate at a lovely restaurant (Atlantic--I had the sea bass with mushroom risotto). And I highlighted articles as I ate. But their music was this amazing Andrew Sisters-style cover band. They did Blondie's 'Heart of Glass' and Gloria Gaynor's 'I Will Survive' in addition to standards like 'Bei Mir Bist du Schon'.

On the mushroom risotto topic: Ben, I have attempted to learn Gabry's recipe for mushroom risotto and I am eager to recreate it with you!

If you go see Doubt...

I am doing one of my assessments on December 9th and it will be entirely about productions of John Patrick Shanley's Pulitzer Prize- and Tony Award-winning play Doubt. If you manage to see the production currently playing in San Francisco (or recently saw the production when it was in LA), I would love to ask you a few questions. I did not get to see Cherry Jones perform the role of Sister Aloysius and I am *very* curious about your experience of her work and the play.

Equus-ious Maximus

This was an amazing production of Equus at Trinity College Dublin! (Erin you would've loved it!)

Consensus so far is that it's the best some production some folks have seen in Dublin yet. I wouldn't go that far (mostly because I don't like to compare such different kinds of performance on a hierarchy), but it was very well done. It was an ensemble cast who were all on stage throughout. The fellow playing Alan was really committed and it paid off. The set was great. The lights were good, but a few of the actors had trouble staying in the light. Of course, that just made it better on some level because it reminded me that this was a student production and the roughness was okay because it had spirit.

Good uses of sounds, especially the cacophony sometimes created by the ensemble. And the horse headpieces were beautifully crafted out of metal; it curled to form the eyes and nostrils.

I forgot how amazing Peter Shaffer is as a playwright. And I forgot that his critique of religion carries into more works than just Amadeus. (Interesting note about the original production of Equus, Cy Coleman did the music for the cinema scene.)

Scholarly ambition

In my research into Tom Murphy, I'm developing a great appreciation for him as an artist. I just contacted his literary agent about getting a copy of one of his unpublished texts. We'll see if that comes through. If I can get it, I will be able to analyse how he was ahead of his time in terms of the use of non-native-Irish genres to tell his stories. (The Blue Macushla is a film noir on stage and The J. Arthur Maginnis Story was described as a burlesque historical romp.) I'm a little worried that I won't gain access, though, because neither play was particularly well-received from the articles/references I've found so far. Of course this only reinforces my drive to find out if it was because the script was problematic (which I doubt) or if it was question of what audiences were ready to see or if the staging/production/marketing was problematic. There is so much to be learned from when we miss the mark. And all his work that I have read leaves me inspired and excited. I'm already thinking about possible productions of his plays when I return to California.

I read in an interview that he lives in Rathgar. How funny would that be if I bumped into him! I wonder if I would recognize him. I don't imagine pictures do justice to his presence. He seems a striking figure.

Laundry woes

I decided to stay home this morning to do a couple loads of laundry. With only one washer and one dryer for the building, it can be a challenge to find the machines empty. (My bigger challenge is getting home early enough to do a load of laundry before 10 pm at which point I think it's too late to have the noise of the machines going.) The bigger frustration is the dryer. I have attempted to get this machine to function properly, but it is starting to appear to be impossible. I emptied the water collection container and all the lint screens. We'll see how it works on this next load of laundry. I can dry things for an hour on high and they are still damp. Of course, I don't want to deal with taking my laundry down to Rathmines to the laundromat or to Gabry's house (although she has offered multiple times). If this doesn't work I will probably contact my landlord. I don't want to be a complainer, but this is becoming absurd.

I think I saw Jesus

No joke! Gabry and I went for a nice little Italian lunch on Sunday. This small restaurant (off Grafton Street) has two levels. The stairwell has mirrors on one side in an attempt to make the space feel larger (and it works).

As we were waiting to pay the bill, a tall man with long brown hair in a black cowboy hat entered with a woman in a long, furry white coat. They didn't look particularly glamorous, but they did not seem like locals. Anyway, I see them enter via the mirror siding on the wall and I exclaim, 'I think that might be Jesus', much to Gabry's surprise.

I was going to ask him, but I felt a little silly about walking up to him and asking if he was the poker player known as Jesus (really Chris Ferguson).

Ummm...it's cold

I know that this is stating the obvious, but I would like to mention the obvious nonetheless. It is cold here in Dublin. To make matters more uncomfortable, the heating system in the 1937 Postgraduate Reading Room (where I do most of my on-campus studies) is not utilized on the weekends. Also, the windows encircling the domed ceiling are not closed and cannot be closed by the hand cranks (nor can they be opened, in case you were curious). Evidently, the postgraduates last year signed a petition to have the heat turned on over the weekend.

If the past weekend is any indication, we will continue to study in sweaters, scarves, hats, and gloves. We may need to add blankets before too long. (Yesterday had the coldness of snow about it, although it only rained.) And I don't know if I buy the heater issue as the main reason for the low temperature because it's Monday and it's awfully cold in there.

It may be time for action. I wish I were tall enough to close the windows for starters.

This is Not a Life

I went to see this show last night at the Project Arts Centre in Dublin and it was the least enjoyed performance thus far in my Irish theatre-going and by a surprisingly large margin. They were clearly trying to do something novel, but it rang false and forced throughout. The versatile Cube space was used, set up like a conference room with seating at the table and further back around the perimeter. (We sat on the outside seats rather than at the table.) There was a silver metallic back wall to the performance space (much smaller than the actual theatre space) that opened up for the extended playing space in the second act.

The first act is like a marketing research group with the four actors (who are doing their 'work') except they don't want any audience participation other than our commitment. We were, about 15 minutes into the show, invited to leave if we were tuning out because that wasn't being committed; we were encouraged to respect ourselves enough to really be present or to go home. The guy leading the seminar was like a less-focused managerial character from The Office (BBC version). None of the characterizations really moved out of 2-D.

The show was a juxtaposition of obliquely made commentary on the current public participation in global/domestic issues and interpersonal drama (including self-aggrandizing, eating habits, and adultery).

The second act was at the host couple's home. The most interesting moment was when two of the actors (not the host couple) are describing what it was like being nearby when a bomb went off in Dublin (presumably in the 48 hour time lapse between the first and the second acts). They were talking and then the hostess walks in and dumps flour on them so they look like they are covered in ash. And then the female-bomb-victim pours red wine on her face so she looks like she's been injured. An interesting visual.

Other than that, there was a moment when the now drunk hostess sits upstage with the drunk male bomb victim in her lap and looking like the Pieta while the drunk host and drunk female bomb victim wriggle on the floor to 'Light My Fire' by The Doors. The image was particularly striking when the male host began to play his leg like a guitar, including strumming on his butt cheek.

Other than that, I was either awkwardly stunned or thinking of leaving.

Ah November...

The color changes here are beautiful, especially around St. Stephen's Green. I finally bought a power transformer so I could charge the batteries for my camera (thanks again, Jean and Ben!). So now I can start taking pictures again. (Sorry for the lull, Teri!)

There is also a really cool window display of a circus. I'll try to take pictures tonight when the pedestrians aren't an issue and the lights will be more striking.

The Director of Doubt

Well, I found out on Thursday last that the director of the production of Doubt (which I saw at the Abbey Theatre Wednesday last) would be coming to speak to my Contemporary Irish Theatre in Context class today, Monday. I didn't have any cash on me the night of the play so I didn't purchase a program (they are not complimentary here). I didn't know the person's name or CV. My teacher mentioned that, if any of us who had issues with the production were brave/willing, we could ask the director about his choices.

Turns out, the fellow who directed the play is Gerry Stembridge. And it turns out he is the writer/director of the film About Adam (see previous entry). Also interesting was to learn that he co-wrote the screenplay for Nora and wrote Ordinary Decent Criminal (see previous entry).

After he spoke about seeing the original New York production (pre-Broadway), I decided I felt comfortable asking him about his production of Doubt. I mentioned that I had seen the second cast in New York, that the actress in that production put the fear of God into me on sight, and that I was curious about the choice to reveal Sister Aloysius's compassion from early on in the play, was it his or the actress or a combination. He spoke easily and candidly about the humor in the character and the actress's strengths in comedy and feminist readings (which was apparent in the characterisation and an interesting emphasis from within the script), but that he did challenge the actress to keep an edge. He asked me what I thought about it; I said that the pay off in the New York production I saw was a rapid series of revelations at the end of the play because that characterisation was so severe. We ended up chatting for at least five minutes, back and forth, discussing the different combinations of actors and how it suited the script. He said my observations were interesting. He spoke very highly of Cherry Jones's work as Sister Aloysius and that he couldn't even remember the priest's performance because she was so strong.

And I left feeling I understood his process a bit and what he was trying to achieve in the production. I would love to work with him or to assist him in a production.

My First Essay in Ireland

My first idea was to analyze productions of The Plough and The Stars by Sean O'Casey, particularly to compare productions of the play versus the 1936 John Ford-directed film adaptation. There is plenty to analyze, especially because the film is almost a complete bastardisation of the play script by making it one woman's story instead of the story of a community in conflict. The characters are reworked and the ending is changed. I would deconstruct and assess social influences in the United States that may have motivated the adjustments to the perceived conflict and motivations to suit the 1936 US audience instead of the 1926 Irish audience.

I am considering changing the topic of my first essay because the current topic requires gaining access to the Abbey Theatre archives (to see theatre versions of The Plough and the Stars, particularly one done in the 1990s directed by Garry Hynes of Druid Theatre in Galway); I've met the woman who runs the archives and accessing the archives is virtually impossible for a number of reasons. As I would like to finish my essay before the winter break (thus enabling me to enjoy my break), I am contemplating other topics.

The most interesting alternate topic at the moment is exploring the use of a Film Noir aesthetic in theatre in the late-1970s and into the mid-1980s, specifically in The Blue Macushla by Tom Murphy. I was reading different plays by Tom Murphy (not my father) and came across this one that uses the American Film Noir aesthetic to depict Ireland (Dublin?) in the late 1970s. (Ireland joined the European Community in 1973 and there were many economic repercussions. The play was first produced in 1980.)

This bit of interculturalism (i.e. using an aesthetic from US films circa 1930 to tell as story about Ireland in 1980) is fascinating. I am intrigued by the use of a distinct genre as a device to tell the story. It's like using commedia dell'arte characters as the point of entry or using space (a la Star Trek) or the Korean War (M*A*S*H*) to discuss the current social climate. The timing of the (re)use of Noir is interesting because the 1970s were a period of innovation (?) in film use of graphic violence and sex, a period of hedonism and fear possibly linked to the Vietnam War (much like the origins of the Film Noir genre coming out of World War I and the Great Depression as well as the continued use of the genre later in a context of World War II).

There is a certain appeal to the proscribed interactions within Noir: it is also a culture in which vice, deception, and violence are expected while individuals simultaneously hope for an escape or a hero.

The 1980s saw a return to this 'formula' of relating, usually through a lens of nostalgia. (Consider Chinatown in 1974; Pennies from Heaven as miniseries in 1978, as movie in 1981; Frank Miller's work on Marvel Comic's Daredevil beginning in 1981 and on DC's Batman: The Dark Knight Returns in 1986; The Singing Detective as miniseries in 1986; Blade Runner in 1982; the musical Little Shop of Horrors as a play in 1982, as a movie in 1986; Who Framed Roger Rabbit in 1988; Batman in 1989; We're No Angels in 1989 which was inspired by a play that was made into a film with Humphrey Bogart in 1955.) If you search on IMDB for film-noir you'll get 99 results. Sort by date and you'll see a lull from 1960 to 1980.

And there has been another resurgence recently. Something about war and corruption makes everyone want to revisit the edgy darkness of smart-talking vamps, wise-cracking reluctant heroes, and henchman with aspirations of eloquence.

Test your theatre knowledge!

Besides The Blue Macushla by Tom Murphy, I can think of one other play that sets the story within a Noir aesthetic. This is Arthur Kopit's The End of the World (thank you Peter for introducing me to that one years ago). I am wondering if you can think of any other plays, written in the late 1970s or early 1980s is preferable but not necessary. I'm curious. I couldn't think of anything else, but I also have an admittedly limited experience/knowledge of plays. (I can think of plays that utilize a reference, especially to the vamp or to the Private Investigator/Humphrey Bogart character, in order to make a moment work.)

So there's your homework, folks! Send me the titles and references of which you are aware incorporating a Film Noir aesthetic into theatre. Even the deliberate moments of reference are appropriate to send my way. All of it will build a network of reference and cultural awareness that will strengthen my paper (see entry).

i Puffi (aka The Smurfs)

That's right, folks. In my journey of interculturalism, I have discovered that The Smurfs were exported to Italy and were called i Puffi (singular: il Puffo). At karaoke on Friday night (is was not very good, Stephen...) Gabry and Valentina broke into the theme song. I couldn't, at that moment, recall The Smurfs theme song. I can remember the 'laa laa luh la la la" bit and I can assure you that the Italian theme song is completely different. There was clapping and syncopation and lots of lyrics.

And, in case you weren't sure, it was hilarious to be in a quasi-Mexican-themed restaurant in Ireland with two Italian women singing and dancing to a cartoon theme-song while *bad* karaoke was going on behind us.

International Weirdness??

Really, I am wondering if the weirdness was just an approaching storm making people crazy in Dublin or if it was going on in California, too. If you are inclined, drop me an email or make an anonymous comment to this posting or send a carrier pigeon. Whatever works for you.

But the ducks were behaving oddly (imagine skipping rocks and then imagine a mallard self-propelling itself across the surface of the water so fast that I had difficulty discerning what was happening). And there was a flock of seagulls or pigeons that started to circle (as they do at time), but they circled at least five times without landing. That seemed odd.

And there were strangely aggressive and confused people all around me. Maybe it was me. Maybe I tainted the sample with my energy and created the weirdness. Just because I am paranoid doesn't mean people aren't out to get me...

Random Connection #2

Not that this was really only my second random connection, but it was a two-day in a row thing so there you go. No over-generalizations, please. I'm sure you are all well aware of my potential for random encounters.

Friday was a weird day and I have decided there was something in the stars dictating general skittishness. I was compelled to go into St. Stephen's Green to read rather than sit in the 1937 Postgraduate Reading Room which was easy to do because I walk past it on my way to campus and I had reading with me. So I end up sitting on a bench under a holly bush (it seemed appropriate as it's already Christmas Shopping Season over here as we don't have Thanksgiving for an added barrier).

This guy is heading for the adjoining bench and, when I make eye contact, asks if it's okay for him to sit there. Of course I say it's fine; he wasn't creepy. And then he asks if he can smoke and, again, I say it's fine. We end up chatting and having an amazing almost hour-long conversation about life and depression and drugs and compassion and economic development, but mostly about how amazing and difficult it is to really be present with other people especially with the added challenge of a chemical imbalance or history of mental illness. It was great. I almost asked for his mobile number, but I figured I would leave it to fate. He lives in Dublin as well. I figure there's a good enough chance that we will bump into one another again and I didn't want to taint the experience by pretending like a friendship would develop out of that one conversation. But I would like to see him again. I just like the idea of a friendly not-quite-randomite out there.

He offered his hand as I was leaving to meet Gabry. I shook his hand and then said I'd like to give him a hug. So we hugged. It was a nice hour.

Random Connection

I was at the Dublin airport on Thursday to sort out a ticket issue, and, while I was waiting, I met a documentary filmmaker based in Kilkenny. Kinda funny. He was waiting for a ticket issue to get sorted, too. Small talk, whatnot. I mention that I am a student at Trinity studying drama. He asks what specifically I am looking at for my dissertation. I said I am interested in interculturalism (which is actually the term for transfer between cultures that I have adopted in the last week to describe to where I am moving in my studies/research/life). He smiled and said he does documentaries on interculturalism. He was on his way to a conference in Paris on sustainable building, specifically regarding the use of domestic (Irish) lime versus French lime in building. I do not know all the details of the process, but you use either hemp or straw or some other fibrous item and can build an environmentally sustainable and energy-efficient building. Neat stuff. I know a few folks who are more familiar with this type of building (and they may post a comment to clarify or provide an appropriate link??).

Anyway, we swapped mobile numbers and I will try to connect with him in a few weeks.

My first whiskey in Ireland

Tonight there was a thank you dinner for volunteers from the conference on which I helped back in the beginning of October. We ate at the Commons which is something a student can only do with a faculty host. Steve thought it would be a nice treat and way of thanking everyone for their efforts. The dinner was slightly surreal in that they begin PROMPTLY at 18:15 and finish by 19:00. There is a clap to initiate and everyone rises for the prayer which was, as far as I could tell, the "Our Father" in Latin. We then sat down to eat our soup. We were rushed through every course (which included a half pint of Guinness). When the clock was about to strike 19:00, there was another loud scuttle of chairs as everyone rose for the closing prayer, again in Latin. And then the elders, clad in traditional black robes of academics, exited the room followed by the other guests. As I said, surreal.

Then our group adjourned down the street at a hotel bar for coffee and drinks. I invited Riku to join me in a whiskey. It seemed appropriate. It was THE BEST WHISKEY I have ever had. It still burned in the way whiskey does, but it was a softer warmth and a smoother flavour than I have ever encountered.

To all those who feared I would return home at the end of this year with an Irish accent, a cigarette hanging from my lips, and a whiskey in my hand: two out of three ain't bad!

I have doubt...

I saw Doubt by John Patrick Shanley at the Abbey Theatre tonight. It was my first time in the audience for a production in the Abbey Theatre, although I did see The Alice Trilogy last week at the Peacock Theatre which is their downstairs, smaller space.

I had the pleasure and privilege of seeing a production of this play in New York when I was on my graduate school research trip. (I also saw the revival of Sweeney Todd on that trip. The one with Patti LuPone and Michael Cerveris. It was amazing!) The show won 4 Tony awards in 2005 (best play, best actress, best featured actress, best director).

When I saw the show in New York, the Principal Sister Aloysius was played by Eileen Atkins, the young sister by Jenna Malone, the priest by Ron Eldard, and the student's mother by Adriane Lenox. I am very glad I saw this production because it was more intimate in its use of space and the performances were excellent. The balance between Sister Aloysius's severity and structure, the Sister James's innocence and optimism, and Father Flynn's charisma and charm did justice to the nuances within the script in a way that the Abbey Theatre production did not. (And when Mrs. Muller came on, there was another series of revelations that were painful while being honest.) The efforts of the Abbey's Sister Aloysius didn't reach an urgency beyond machinations and all the references to her coldness fell flat because she didn't have the air of authority about her. (And Sister James did not seem to have the fear of God struck into her by being in the same room as Sister Aloysius.)

The best thing about this production was seeing it after reading texts about women's role in society and culture in Ireland. Although it is set in the US, I appreciated much more the Sister Aloysius's position as she tries to navigate the biases inherent in the Catholic Church in the 1960s and her limited circle of influence. That and hearing the priest put on an Irish accent at one point. (That got a good chuckle from the Irish audience.) OH! I almost forgot about this! The play opens with Father Flynn giving a sermon on doubt. There's the actor in all his 1960s priestly splendor. At the end of the sermon, he makes the sign of the cross and says, "In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen." There is a brief black-out before the next scene and the audience is tittering and shifting in their seats because people either did or barely restrained themselves from making the sign of the cross upon hearing those words. Hilarious! I even felt a momentary pang of guilt at not making the sign of the cross before I remembered that I was at a play and not at Mass.

For those who are interested, the touring production is coming to San Francisco. It actually may be there as of today. Cherry Jones, the first Sister Aloysius on Broadway (and Hallie Flanagan in Tim Robbins' film Cradle Will Rock), will be doing it as well as Adriane Lenox, both of whom won Tony awards for their work on Broadway. That will probably be worth seeing.

Dane Cook in San Francisco!

I don't know if the show is sold out already, but if you have any time on December 9, go see Dane Cook at The Warfield. He is hilarious! You can hear some excerpts of his comedy on his webpage. Good times. And, if for nothing else, go see it for me and then tell me how funny it is.

Kevin Spacey movie filmed in Dublin

For anyone who would rather be part of a heist, you'll probably enjoy this film. And if you like Kevin Spacey, this is *definitely* worth a watch. It's entitled Ordinary Decent Criminal. It's funny and fast-paced and all about loyalty. You will also see a young Colin Farrell as Alec.

Again, it's kinda weird for me to watch the film and to know where they are. It's kinda like watching movie filmed in San Francisco. But it's Dublin. I'm sure you follow the connection.

A show I forgot to write about

I forgot to write about Corraline, a stage adaptation of the book by Neil Gaiman. It was done with puppets and was quite fun. On rainy afternoon, the week I was starting to feel overwhelmed with doubts, I went to the show. The audience was targeted at 10-adult. It was a classic Neil Gaiman story (check out American Gods if you haven't read any of his work. Or Good Omens which he wrote with Terry Pratchett--thanks for Kate for that one!)

Anyway, it was much needed that day and reminded me of the magic and artifice of theatre. It also reminded me of the value of fantasies and stories for understanding relationships and life.
The puppets were not very interesting for the most part, although there was a good surreal payoff when one of them turned out to have a body made of entirely stretchy stuff so she could
occupy lots of space. Ominous and creepy. It was a nice effect.

I still pick the Canadian burlesque puppets as my #1 choice for puppet shows this year.

The Muffin Man Strikes Again (sort of)

Another muffin sighting. And another one for John!

The reason I say 'sort of' is that the person in question is Riku, a Finnish scholar in the third year of his PhD who is here in Ireland for the year doing his work. Unlike my previous muffin sightings, I have really gotten to know Riku. We emailed before the Antigone conference because he was interested in volunteering. And then we met at the conference and within two weeks he was part of our postgrad circle of friends.

The reason I finally made this entry is because I still feel the similarities between them. I mean, they are different people, but they have similar facial expressions, wit and intelligence. Riku is another one of those people with whom I can have an intense conversation about Levinas then laugh loudly at his understated jokes and then just sit quietly while we enjoy the world in that moment.

So he and John are distinctly different, but more similar than not. Maybe both made with bittersweet chocolate and nuts, but with different kinds of fruit inside them.

Those flat biscuity-raisin things

I have been craving those flat biscuity-raisin things! For weeks! And they are something I would've guessed would be sold here in Ireland. Alas, I have not seen them in any of the shops. I tried some biscuits with raisins cooked in the biscuit that were made by a brand that makes digestive biscuits; they were absolutely not acceptable because they neither tasted very good nor did they taste like what I wanted.

Do you know the item of which I write? It's not too sweet, a little bit salty, not really crisp, and almost too much fruit for the biscuit-to-fruit ratio. And it comes in a long rectangle about a foot long and the segments break apart and you get two layers of biscuit and fruit in the package...

Last night at Dunnes (one of the local mega-chains) I found something that actually looked like the flat biscuity-raisin things I had been craving! They had sugar sprinkled on top (as did the crap biscuits-with-raisins I tried earlier), but I figured it was still worth a go. The texture of the biscuit is more Saltine than I'd like, but it's got more fruit. I think it will hold me over for now.

There's Something About Gabry

Last night Gabry and I rented There's Something About Mary which I had never seen. The humor was not as horribly uncomfortable as I expected it to be. It was sweet and funny. The best part was watching it with Gabry, though. She had told me about the scenes with the dog and, when she told me, laughed so intensely I thought she might hurt herself.

One of the things I absolutely cherish about Gabry is that she is playful when it suits her. For all her being focused on her research and discussions of philosophy, if she is in the mood to play then that is what she will do. The other day at lunch, she stole my nose and ate it and then went into a fit of giggles.

As some of you can guess, this is part of why we get along so well. We can study quietly or have an intense debate about the nature of touch or giggle like we're twelve (or five). And it's not as aspect of her a person would necessarily guess by looking at her. She is this poised and beautiful Italian woman. And she is, for the most part, unabashedly herself.

About Adam

Another in my series of Irish film experiences since I started hanging out with Gabry. This was another film recommended for my contemporary Irish theatre course. This film was not quite what I expected, though, and I will need to consult my syllabus to figure out how it will fit into the curriculum.

About Adam features actors I have seen in other work, particularly Kate Hudson and Rosaleen Linehan (the latter has been in a number of films including The MatchMaker with Janeane Garofalo.) It is light-hearted and funny while having an interesting commentary on perceptions, deception, and fulfillment. Also an interesting family dynamic.

It was fun and sexy, but I didn't enjoy it nearly as much as Adam and Paul or Breakfast on Pluto.

Tha Alice Trilogy

My theatre attendance has slowed down a bit as I have picked up my reading. There are also fewer shows to see at this moment because the festivals are done. (Of course, more are around the corner, including the Gay Theatre Festival!)

I did get to see Tom (not my father) Murphy's newest play The Alice Trilogy. It is an interesting journey through Alice's life as she encounters, exists in, and avoids different experiences of Wonderland. The first movement is at 25 years old; the second movement is at 38-ish; the third movement is in her fifties.

The set was kinda surreal: curved surfaces with a stucco-type texture in shades of grey. The stage was raked at a sharp angle. This was particularly well used in the second movement when the actors seemed precariously situated, as if they may tumble at any moment if they were not careful.

There were some things that were too obvious or too predictable, but overall an enjoyable experience.

Happy Halloween!

Halloween here in Dublin started the Thursday before and went through Tuesday. Actually, there was a person in a gorilla suit on the street corner as I walked to campus on Wednesday morning at 10am, so really, the party just kept going.

The highlight of Halloween was walking to the bus and passing two individuals: 1. A Cereal Killer wearing a blue jumpsuit covered in cereal boxes, and 2. my friend Barra at whom I threw a packet of M'n'Ms (thank you Suzi!).

Also of note was attempting to study in the Reading Room while fireworks were going off around town. It actually sounded like gunfire and mortars. It was surreal.

Next year I am hoping to celebrate properly with a costume and more candy-giving.

A time for reflection

Autumn is traditionally a time for reflection, for turning under the plants left after harvesting to nurture the soil, to prepare for the winter. I have been doing a lot of reflection lately. I have been struggling to find words lately. My throat is sore from the effort of self-expression.

I have also been feeling isolated in my world as I experience the difficulty of communicating effectively. When I get home after an entire day of taking in information, trying to understand, trying to communicate confusion, ideas, or clarification, I am tired. And I sometimes don't have words for my blog.

So if another week goes by with my blog silent, please know it's not because I am not doing really interesting things. I just don't know how to tell you. =)

Really cool dance show

I will update this post later when I have the name of the show in front of me.

Gabry and I went to this dance show on Thursday last that was a unique project. Not entirely unique as the creator has had this piece performed by 15 groups, but still unlike work I am used to seeing. This man scripted/scored a performance in three parts. Three different choreographers/groups in three different countries each select three dancers to perform the choreography created from the script/score. They rehearse on their own while knowing they will all ultimately share the same performance space. When they are finally united, one group goes first the the first of three sections (each group will perform the three segments of the performance in the same order although the order (of groups and of segments) changes each night). During the intermission between segments, the second group comes onstage to prepare. Then, as the first group moves into their choreography for the second segment, the second group begins their choreography for the first segment. It builds to having all three groups on stage, each performing their choreography for a different segment and then tapers off until the third group is alone on the stage performing their choreography for the third segment. And then the stage is empty.

The script/score for the performance has specifications for when there must be text, when text is allowed, and when announcements are allowed. Each segment as 13 one-minute moments. For all three segments, some of the movements are the same. There are moments when everyone is doing 'disco' or 'working' or 'fucking' or 'dying' and then there are times when two groups are 'watching/waiting' while the other group does 'Lovestory'. It makes for interesting commentary on differences in culture, in movement, in private/public spaces, in personal spaces. And on rules, especially because some of the groups broke rules more deliberately than others.

It was really neat.

Soul Searching

I never make things simple, do I? In 8th grade Algebra class, my teacher gave me an award at the end of the year for consistently doing problems in the most complicated manner. I got the right answer and used sound technique, but I managed to always do it in a complicated way. And here I am, once again pursuing the methods that make sense to me, but are complicated nevertheless.

Case in point: I am in Ireland to do a Masters degree.

While I recognize that I am at the end of an intense, largely self-inflicted, week of study and am tired, justifiably, I also am aware that I have doubts about this year and this program. Wouldn't that just be like me to come all this way just to find out that I had this knowledge (or ability to obtain knowledge) already in me?

Rough Magic

I had the great pleasure to meet Lynne Parker, the Artistic Director of Rough Magic, a Dublin theatre company (see entry on The Bonefire). She came to speak to my class on Contemporary Irish Theatre in Context. It was really inspirational to hear her speak about the work they have done and the visions for the future, including an acknowledgement of the lack of training for the essential individuals in the infrastructure of theatre: producer, administrator, production manager, stage manager. They started the SEEDS program by commissioning scripts in order to develop the new work coming out of Dublin. They put no restrictions on the play content, although they do ask for manageable amount of characters to make staging them feasible.

This was so successful, they started SEEDS II and then SEEDS III, each time expanding the scope. They now include directors, producers, designers, and writers. And they 'teams' will stage something for a festival next summer/fall. They become their own mini-company and learn from the hands-on experience with resources, support, and guidance.

I will have to do a presentation for this class about funding and contemporary theatre in Ireland. If possible, I am going to focus on Rough Magic. They are doing some exciting and interesting stuff. And trying to change the template each time.

The Worst Martini

Mary loves a good martini. Vermouth swished on the glass, Kettle One, dirty, with three olives. She decided to risk ordering one at the restaurant where we had dinner tonight. We knew it was probably a bad choice, but we went for it. The waitress brought me a martini as well because I was so involved in the ordering process that she thought I wanted one, too.

They were made with tiny, black olives and tasted awful. We thought it was possibly the icky olives that had a different flavour than we were used to having. So I went downstairs to the bar to chat with the fellow who made them. We explained that we were used to different olives and the flavour was not what we were expecting. He said he would get us green olives for the future. We didn't feel rude and all seemed in good spirits. (if only...ha ha)

A few minutes later, I am preparing to make my exit so I am sure to catch my bus, when the waitress comes upstairs with two new martinis with little green olives in them. And they still taste awful! The green olives taste like the black olives, which is to say they don't taste like much and that bit of taste is not good.

Mary and I decide we won't ever get martinis here again. I talked her into just pounding the drinks and going home. So we did. We both had to cleanse our mouths of the offensive flavour before we left the table. So much for taking a chance. Next time we'll research it better.

Fears and Frustrations

I spent most of today feeling like a completely unintelligible freak (and not "freak" in a good way). I have been wrestling with Foucault and this assignment (which I have decided was completely irresponsible of the teacher to assign) and when I try to discuss these issues with my classmates I get blank looks or answers that indicate I have not been heard/understood accurately which leads me to believe that I am not articulating myself clearly.

I started to wonder if this wasn't the right place for me. Not doubting my place in graduate school, but in this program. I feel my teacher assigned a reading that is disrespectful of me and my commitment to my education and this makes me question the entire program and whether or not a taught course is appropriate at this time; perhaps I am beyond it already and the hoop-jumping will only become more frustrating. (When I said that I am questioning my place Gabriella said, 'Will you stop? Please. Just stop.")

You are probably wondering about the reading. The assignment for this week in my Strategies and Analysis class is Postcolonialism. We were assigned three texts with each person being lumped into a group for more intense assessment of one of the readings. I opted to emphasize a piece by Gayatri C. Spivak entitled 'Can the Subaltern Speak?' After hearing from classmates that it was an intense reading, I began with one of the other readings that goes through the evolution leading to colonial discourse and into postcolonialism. This seemed a good idea before jumping into the aforementioned essay that is a deconstruction of postcolonialism. Well, I got through fifty pages (out of 100) on the evolution of the discourse and decided I should move onto the essay. The essay, however, is a deconstruction of a specific interview between Michel Foucault and Gilles Deleuze. So I found that interview which I began reading this afternoon/evening in order to then read the deconstruction of it.

I am now in this cycle of endless source references and accumulation of knowledge and feeling really worked up about the content, but also the circumstances/situation. It's all become very loaded. The disrespect comes in when I see that my teacher assigned this essay that requires significant research to contextualize responsibly without, seemingly, understanding the importance of reading the other materials for a proper understanding. It's difficult enough to do the three readings, let alone all the background research to understand and contextualize the work.

I am in a program that is supposed to help me prepare for making a contribution to written discourse. How insulting to have a teacher seemingly disrespect another person's writing by not considering what information is necessary to appreciate or understand the writing. I cannot in good conscience skim through a work that is built upon so many layers of understanding and questioning power structures and how we know what we know; that seems counter to the very theories and practices I am studying.

None of my classmates seem to comprehend this. Gabriella said that she understands me. But it's not the same when I have peers in my classes with whom I am supposedly going to discuss these readings and ideas. It's further complicated by the fact that everyone in my course comes from a different background and knowledge base. I happen to have studied lots of these theories before, or at least contemplated their existence. And I know I really enjoy the deep, philosophical debates on the nuances of linguistic signifiers and other details of intent. But it's really disheartening to realize that, once again, my peers are not challenging me as I would like.

Thankfully, though, I have my circle of PhD friends who continue to surprise me with their humility, with their humor, and with their vision. Hopefully that will be enough to keep me going. As it is, I am considering not talking in class anymore because no one seems to understand what I am saying. I might just make notes and save my thoughts for someone who is willing and interested in an open exchange of ideas. Maybe I will be less frustrated if I try to understand their observations and keep mine to myself (especially when they don't seem to be helpful to anyone else).

Theorious Nerdious Maximus

I have come out to all my classmates as an uncommonly avid theory nerd.

My latest project for classes has been tackling the great, grey beast that is a book by Ania Loomba entitled Colonialism/Postcolonialism. It's a great introduction to the evolution of the postcolonial discourse (including Foucault's development of the term 'discourse'). Ordinarily, I would skip through it, getting the basic structure of the arguments without worrying about retaining all the information for the long term. For those unfamiliar with graduate studies, the courses include an absurd amount of reading (not to mention secondary/supplemental readings) that is actually more than a person can read in one week. My strategy is to familiarize myself with the basic content of the book; I will read what I can and then remember the book will be a resource to return to if/when I want additional information.

This strategy doesn't really work with theory because I feel it is important to understand the logic of the argument in order to apply it responsibly in my work. Facts are easier to verify. Rationalizing an argument or performing a Foucaultian analysis of power structures within a play require a bit more of my brain power.

And this wouldn't be so overwhelming if I wasn't enjoying it so much. I can't put it down! Okay, I can, but I keep coming back to it. I don't want to read plays right now: I want to have a mental showdown with Foucault and Saussure and Lacan. It becomes even more fun when you realize that my Strategies and Analysis course will cover a different topic each week. So I will keep encountering some of these theories in different contexts and have to reconcile the new knowledge with the older knowledge. I was feeling a little battered earlier, but I think it's time to get back in the ring and to start swinging.

Too Much Stimulation Leads to...

A lazy Sunday!

After lots of studying this week (particularly my mental wrestling match with a book on Colonialism/Post-colonialism), I was ready for a low-key day. I allowed myself to just take up space for a morning and into the afternoon. No movies, no TV. I emailed, I listened to music, I walked up to the next town for tea with a friend, and then I came home to make dinner.

It was my first time using the oven. I roasted a chicken with carrots, parsnips, onions, and garlic. I threw in some red wine and let it all work its magic. It turned out quite well. And now I have chicken for making something else this week. And I got ambitious and started to make stock with the chicken carcass, but it started foaming in a way that I think there may have been some residual soap on the pot lid.

Overall, though, I think it was a successful day. I rested, I caught up with friends with whom I hadn't talked in weeks, and I ate good, home cooked food. That's a good start to my third week of classes.

Two Shows in One Day

I managed to book tickets to two different shows today. The first was a one-man show entitled Allergic to Beckett. It was almost a one-joke show. It did not help that the venue faces onto one of the busiest shopping areas in Dublin and that this was the second (and last) performance of the day (and the run). There were a few good moments and then there were moments during which I wanted my life back. I appreciated that this piece of theater existed, but I didn't want to be there anymore.

The other piece was Oedipus Loves You by Pan Pan, a Dublin theatre group known for innovative and experimental productions. (Incidentally, the actress who played Antigone was also in Breakfast on Pluto, as was an actor from The Bonefire by Rough Magic, another Dublin theatre company.) This production was an intelligent and almost overwhelming multi-media production featuring original songs by a local band (Gordon is a Mime). The cast was Tiresias, Oedipus, Jocasta, Creon, and Antigone. They all performed in a band together. There was a screen mounted at center stage that showed the red-satin-clad marital bed the entire time, whether or not someone was in it. They used those plain white plastic masks at a key moment. Tiresias is referred to early on as a psychotherapist and eventually leads the group in a family therapy session. (The actor playing Tiresias was one of the demons in the staged reading of Don Murphy by Tom McIntyre, an adaptation of Don Quixote set in Ireland.)

I bought the soundtrack and am interested to hear how it stands on its own. Some of my companions did not enjoy the show. When I said that I enjoyed it quite a lot, the response was a baffled, "Why?" to which I responded with an assessment of their use of layers, the choice to not stage one version of the Oedipus family trilogy, but to do an intelligent synthesis of all the Oedipus discourse, to challenge and to reify the original plays/characters. Some of the choices were witty, some callous, some superficial. Ultimately, though, it all layered together in a bold and deliberate piece of theatre. They even surprised me with a moment in which I could only think of the reconciliation process between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland. It was grave, irreverent, and jubilant. And it had a great beat.

The Funniest Taxi Driver in Dublin

Given that my experience of Dublin taxi drivers is limited to ten (roughly), my assessment of his status as The Funniest may be premature, but Ed is heads and shoulders about the rest in this category. It probably helped that I was kinda tired and spacey when I got into the taxi (which I was taking because I'd missed the last regular bus and didn't want to wait for the night bus line to start). The usual exchange of where are you from/for how long are you here ensued. When he found out I was studying drama, he told me about having a well-known Dublin theatre figure in the cab recently and about how he told this proper fellow so many good jokes that the man was in bits by the time he was dropped off.

At this point I am thinking to myself that I won't get to hear any good jokes because they are probably not acceptable for mixed company. Ed asks me if I know about the local politicians and I say no. He tells me about this one fellow known to have a bit of a stammer and folks often take the piss out of him for it. (By the way, that's a very common bit of slang here: taking the piss.) Ed then moves topics to the Ryder Cup and I say, yes, I've been in town for almost two months (!!) and was here for that. At this point, Ed refers back to the theatre fellow and a conversation they had.

Please note that I will not be able to do justice to his storytelling and timing, but will do an impersonation if you ask when I see you next. Also, this joke probably doesn't translate well to typing it out, but you'll hopefully get the idea.

Ed asks if the man is looking forward to the Ryder Cup. The man replies that he is a great fan of golf. Ed asks if he's heard that Tiger Woods won't be playing. The man is shocked and says that he hasn't heard this bit of news. Ed explains that Tiger Woods refused to come because the politician with the stammer will be welcoming everyone to the "K-K-K Club."

I was completely caught off-guard, partially because I hadn't quite realized he was telling me a joke. As many of you know, I can really get the giggles going when I find something funny. Ed seemed satisfied to have found a good audience. I told him I was afraid he wouldn't tell me any of the good jokes. He smiled and asked if I wanted to hear another. We spent the entire ride in fits of laughter. After he told me a few (including a hilarious one about two Irish guys trying to gather money for pints and one about a prostitute shopping for perfume that definitely requires being told in person), I told him the one about the novice who goes to the bar for a bottle of vodka for the Mother Superior and the "do you know the difference between a salami sandwich and a blow job" joke. He laughed lots and said he'd use the latter one for sure. (Thanks for that one, Phil!)

Of course, by the time I get home, I too awake to get to sleep right away, but it was worth it!

Breakfast on Pluto

Another good Irish film for you. Breakfast on Pluto is directed by Neil Jordan who also did The Crying Game (which is one of my favorite love stories), Michael Collins (which I haven't seen), and Interview with the Vampire (which is not set in Ireland, but does feature Stephen Rea whom I always enjoy).

This may become one of my favorites. It's set in the 70s mostly and shot with really saturate colors. The cast is strong. The soundtrack is good and gives lots of texture to the story and the emotions. The DVD offers subtitles for the hearing impaired (or those who have trouble with understanding the accents).

I'm going to leave it at that rather than go into further detail because I think it's a movie that can be described in lots of ways that won't do justice to the layers of experience depicted in the movie. But if you've enjoyed other films by this director, you might also enjoy this one.

Master first, Doctor later

After much deliberation and anxiety, I have decided to wait on my PhD applications until next fall. While part of me worries about momentum and another gap in my studies, I think it is in my best interests to focus on this M.Phil. program before I worry about PhD programs. I want to give myself space to explore and to discover without the strict time limits that going straight into a PhD program would impose.

For those who are new to this conversation or who have not committed the details of my life to perfect memory, I am currently enrolled in a Master of Philosophy course which requires a dissertation to be submitted by the end of August. Rewrites will be due by December (roughly) with the official conferment of the degree in February (or thereabouts). Basically, I am not going to submit applications to PhD programs that would start in the middle of August or beginning of September when that would mean I'd be trying to finish my M.Phil. dissertation and move out of my flat in Ireland and start a new program.

Much as I love a challenge (and love to make things complicated), I have decided against that course of action at present. Instead, I will focus on learning lots about Irish theatre and on developing my writing skills. (There are many wonderful things about my studies at UCSC, but critical writing is not one of them.)

This also means I don't have to stress myself about the traveling I am not doing while I study because I have the option to travel next fall after I finish my dissertation. Now I can enjoy my studies and relax a bit, trusting that I have the rest of my life to change the world and that I don't have to do it on someone else's time line or in someone else's way. I'll do it my way!

40 Year-Old Virgin in Ireland

While I had friends in town this weekend, we rented a few movies and vegetated. They hadn't seen The 40 Year-Old Virgin and I think it's hilarious and sweet so I talked them into seeing it. Much to my surprise, it's different from the US release. There are entire scenes that are not in the US version. Largely, the additional footage gives more time and development to the co-workers Mooj and Haziz. (There is a scene between Mooj and Jay in which they say some nasty things, but end it without a sense of personal injury and allude to the poker game that will happen that night. It makes the slurs thrown between them a bit more contextualized within their friendship.)

It's the first time I really noticed/experienced the difference in marketing. And Ben articulated the 80s-style feeling to some of the editing that I hadn't previously considered (I noticed the choices, but hadn't made the connection). If I cared more or had more time to indulge in the curiosity, I would watch them back-to-back to notice more differences and develop my theories of perceived social differences. I also would find out if the release in Ireland is the same as the UK version and/or other versions to further develop my theories.

Sorry for the lull

I know some of you check my blog with regularity and are rarely denied the pleasure of new postings, but I let you down this week. I hope you'll forgive my negligence of your entertainment and routine (although I doubt my blog is part of anyone's weekly routine).

The most controversial show in the festival

Gabry managed to get us tickets to the most controversial show in the festival. Written by someone from Rough Magic, one of Dublin's local theatre companies, it is a story set in a Loyalist home in Northern Ireland during the week preceding the annual bonfire on the eve of July 12th. Entitled The Bonefire, this piece deals with themes of nationalism, loyalty, gender roles and violence.

The accents were difficult to understand at times, though the intention was usually quite clear. It was witty and sassy at times and then fierce and uncomfortable at other times. I have mixed feelings about it. There was a point about 3/4 through when I felt things degraded a bit in clarity/focus. (I'm not sure if it's the script or if it had to do with production choices.) There were moments of great intensity throughout that were all the more intense for being in an intimate playing space. There was a point when there was a woman literally at my feet, collapsed in a bloody and battered heap, and I watched as one of the men spit on her. And it was an icky feeling inside, to feel complicit in these acts of violence and humiliation. (Also interesting was the choice for this woman to appear at the curtain call in a cleaned-up state.)

For those who are interested in reading this new work, it is available for purchase through Methuen, as is the Mark Ravenhill play Product.

Everyday in Dublin

Last night I saw the latest performance by a local Dublin theatre group, The Corn Exchange. The show was the intersection (or lack thereof) in the lives of a dozen+ individuals in Dublin. Emphasizing some characters more than others, the show addressed hope, family, belonging, coping, change...it was an interesting portrait of the city in this moment of its history.

This is the company that builds from commedia dell'arte techniques. Each performer had a distinct mask painted onto their faces in that the make-up accented certain features and created a lasting expression.

The show was touching, inspiring, heartbreaking, and honest. It was wonderful, especially to see it the day after seeing three of the actors in the film Adam and Paul. (And today I got to see footage from their production of Lolita at an installation on theatre in Dublin during the last few years.) They have a strong aesthetic that helps tell the stories without being overly simplistic or insulting. Really, the humanity of each character becomes more evident when there is an outward appearance that cannot be changed.

Adam and Paul

For those who liked Trainspotting, you may want to check out an Irish film called Adam and Paul. It was filmed in Dublin and the writer and actors are mostly from a local theatre company. (I'm going to see their latest show tonight.) Evidently, they base a lot of their work in commedia dell'arte. It doesn't show on the surface of this film, but, if you're familiar with the style, you'll see it at the foundation of the characters.

For those who just want to see an interesting, somewhat unintelligible (muttering, Dublin accents...not as difficult to understand as Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels, but may frustrate some), and touching film about "current" Dublin, check it out. It was filmed in 2004 and as I watched it I could recognize a lot of the places where it was filmed around town.

Product by Mark Ravenhill

Anyone who is interesting in a scathingly hilarious kick-in-the-stomach kinda show, try to get your hands on the latest piece by Mark Ravenhill. I just saw it performed at the Dublin Theatre Festival and the script is available for purchase from Methuen. It's basically a guy pitching a movie, but the content is brilliantly constructed to attack Hollywood and audiences for the structures, the stereotypes, and the ignorance that creates our "entertainment."

It was laugh-out-loud funny while also leaving me feeling a bit battered and insulted. It was a nice balance.

A gift from Gabriella

If any of you wondered how lucky I am to have met Gabriella, this should dispel any doubt about it: she has surprised me with a nine-week seminar entitled "Philosophers in Dialogue." She found out about a night course that meets on Tuesdays for roughly an hour-and-a-half to discuss the works of two philosophers.

Tonight was Plato and Aristotle and it was wonderful! It was refreshing to be think in that way, to posit something and then see how sound the argument is and then to re-evaluate and ask another question. I love it! The true art of dialogue!

And the teacher from the Philosophy department was great! He was generous and unassuming. He embodied the work he studies in that he demonstrated the thinking through things. And I am already thinking about my dissertation ideas differently, wondering what lies at the core of all the topics and niches in which I am interested.

And we get to do this EVERY WEEK through December 5th! I am going to be exposed to different theories than I would necessarily encounter in theatre studies, but theories that will be helpful in my articulation of ideas about theatre. And I have Gabry with whom I can discuss these things. She wants to start some kind of postgraduate society in which we would be able to discuss different topics and form connections across departments and schools of thought. I think this series of lectures will spur us onto further projects and dialogues.