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.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
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.
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. =)
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.
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).
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).
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
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.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
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.
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!
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.
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.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
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!
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.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
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.)
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.)
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, November 20, 2006
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).
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.
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.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, November 13, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
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.
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).
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.
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.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
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...
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.
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.
Anyway, we swapped mobile numbers and I will try to connect with him in a few weeks.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
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!
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.
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.
Monday, November 06, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
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.
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
