|
|
| |
|
 |
| |
Saturday, September 30, 2006
I think I possibly might have seen one of the most beautiful pieces of theatre I’ll ever be witness to. An exploration of time, terror, memories,… It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. I wasn’t watching theatre, it was like watching living art. I seriously felt as if I had been transported into a different reality; a surreal reality. The soundscape was beautiful, there was never a single moment of silence in the entire show. And no one ever spoke, it was all white noise, recordings played forwards and backwards. Instruments. Human voices being manipulated into unrecognizable sounds. Until that final moment when the male protagonist comes back on stage and calls out ‘Charlotte?’ Blackout. Absolutely stunning. And the light. OH!!!!!!!!!!!! A box was hanging from centre stage and the audience never once noticed it until it appeared in its scene. Pure brilliance. And the balcony. First you think it’s one plane that’s a metre of so deep. Then you think maybe there’re two levels and it’s a few metres deep. And more and more things are thrown in, until you realize there’s at least 5 different levels and places up there, and there’re bare tiny trees and branches standing there from the start of the show you never noticed that came out at the exact moments.
From the start, when we are gathered at a cold empty carpark and we are led up the path and we see a woman in a white gown in the distance, holding out a birdcage with light comin from within it, all the way to the pier where something is floating down the water and four women dressed in black Victorian gowns hold out a skirt that is soaked and drop it in terror, to out final destination in the old abandoned meat market, where we stand outside, waiting as our usher winds up the heavy metal gate and lowers it back down and locks it when we’re seated in our chairs, and the location is thick in smoke, and it is cold and chilly. Regardless of the fact that I am aware that I am watching a performance and nothing is real, I am still spooked out by the eerier atmosphere.
A woman is sprawled out on a broken looking box in the middle of the space, there is a balcony on our right where a man is working on his things, and eventually a woman walks in from the left, all is still dark, and you can barely see her through the thick smoke. She has a bright bulb on her chest, and her head is drenched. As she walks, drops of water drip incessantly from her chin.
How about the scene where the male protagonist chains up his wife, sets mousetraps on the floor, then unchains her and makes her dance the waltz with him. Except, they skirt round the first trap, she steps over the second, and he tilts her backwards and you witness the terror on her face as her head is inches away from the trap. Then he forces her towards the third trap, and she resists him, and breaks away from him. He takes her by force again, and again, she breaks free. Finally he overpowers her, makes her pirouette, and throws her on the ground and she barely brushes past the trap.
And the final scene, where the female protagonist has her head in the box, the four female figures clad in black with protruding spinal bones crown around her, making a cacophony, like bloodthirsty crows, and they draw nearer to her and grab her head and raise it, and there she is, gasping for dear life, for her head was plunged into water that was in the box. And as she gasps for breath, you see her breath mist up in the coldness. Now that’s dedication I say.
The way the performers have such wonderfully skillful control over their bodies and voice. I had to spend half a minute trying to figure out if I was listening to a recorded sound, or if it was live sound I heard from the performers. And the way the grey men has such control over their muscles. It was fascinating to watch them walk stealthily, like hunters, and experience an involuntary spasm in their shoulder. The action was so carefully executed and precise that no other part of the body moved. It was as if the shoulder was entirely disconnected from the rest of the body. And it wasn’t just the shoulder, other parts of the body went through the same body isolation. It was simply divine to watch.
This is Theatre, I thought. I want to do something like that, something that will reach out to my audience and spark off something in the depths of their being and make them hold their breath. That is Theatre.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Name 20 people you can think of at the top of your head, without reading the questions below. Tag 5 more people to do this quiz.Hannah!!! I tag YOU!!!!! ehhehehe and Ling, though she kinda jumped the gun, ahem... eager beaver1. Ling-yu2. Angie3. Hannah4. Gladys5. Charissa6. Shamaine7. Vanessa8. Jennifer9. Sarah10. Damian11. Daniel Lammin12. Daniel McBurnie13. Kate 14. Simon15. Steph16. Mark Cres17. Mark Wilson18. Laura19. Ying20. IonaHow did you meet no.14? At uni, through no. 15What would you do if you never met no.1? Hmmmm... I'd probably be a less stable person than I am, HA! And I'd probably go crazy, and homicidal eheheDid you ever like no.19? I love her to bits!! She's beautifulWould no.6 and no.17 make a good couple? HAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, He's gay and they hit it off like a house on fire... but.... they would, but, naw.....Describe no.3. She's so wonderfully introspective and cynical of herself, yet she inspires me to better myself. She doesn't realise what she's capable of. She's like a Pandora's box.Do you think no.8 is attractive? Gosh yeah, that vortex of a mouth... mmmmTell me something about no.7. She is... well..... a wonderful person, who lives in Paterson Lakes, and needs to be more firm.Do you know any of 12's family? Naw, they're all far away eheheWhat's no.8's favorite? Poo. No, really!!!!!!! And skirts. Regardless of the weather. And cooking.What would you do if 11 confesses that he/she likes you? Hahaha!!! I'd remind him that he's gay.What language does no.15 speak? EnglishWho is no.9 going out with? Crazy Andrew. Future priest.How old is no.16 now? 32.When was the last time you talked to no.13? Gee... I dunno... erm.... Saturday?Who's no.2's favorite band/singer? Suede, Neil Codling.Would you date no.4? Hell yeah, if she would have me eheheWould you date no.7? Ermm.... naw... She's awesome... but.. naw... Is no.15 single? NOooooooWhat's no. 10's last name? ScottWould you ever be in a serious relationship with no.18? If she was a man, Yeah!!Which school does no.3 go to? UBC, but currently NUSWhat's your favorite thing about no.5? Her morbidity. And flakiness. And intelligence. And the ability to land herself in the most wonderful lucky situations, and most unthinkable crazy shit situations. And still be so full of inspiration. Have you seen no.1 naked? nnnooo.... It's not my job to, *wink*~~~~~~~~~So it's the very very much deserved one week break, yet I don't feel relaxed at all. I was so looking forward to this, to finally finishing my 3000word essay on how dance is political, and right after I hand it in everything starts kicking up like a storm again!!! and I've got another 3000word classics essay due monday and I'm due for filming and stuff over this weekend. Will it never stop!!!!!!!! And why haven't they Short & Sweet people called me??!?~! URGH!!!!!!!! So frustrating... I really can't wait for uni to end and..... And what?? I have absolutely no bloody idea. I'm jut bobbing along on the wave and seeing where it takes me. Ahhh.... such an artistic temperament. *gag*
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
I miss my Astro and Cezzane.Big Sigh.
I miss my Astro and Cezzane.Big Sigh.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Oh, a Rhinoceros!And I am done with the last show of the year, the last show of my undergraduate degree, as of 4hrs ago. It doesn't feel real, probably because it all hasn't sunk in yet, and probably because I'm bushed and can hardly keep my eyes open. I can't believe I'm finished, stage-wise, with my degree. There's heaps of readings and essays to finish, God, I've 3 to write in one week.We should all be getting seriously pissed drunk right now at our massive afterparty, the one afterparty we have been looking forward to since day one of uni. But no, instead we're all tucked up in our own beds. What a let down. I'll miss Aidan. I wanna have his babies. What shits me is that this was THE underdog play of the year. It was the 'reject' cast. We had our script only 3 days before rehs started, we got a director noone had ever worked with before (who turned out a spectacular man, and fucken talented too), we delivered a fucking strong show who dazzled and shocked people, we pulled it all together with minimum rehearsal time, and we had fucken one and a half days to bump in, for crying out loud! And when we reached the finish line with gusto and wayyyy ahead of everyone else, there was noone to receive us with the fanfare. What. A. Let. Down. It's almost as if they expected us to fall along the way and didn't bother making the effort. Well Fuck it, it's their loss. Ballocks to that, I say. Yet I can't shake off the feeling that this was a fucking splendiferous show that I was a part of, the people who partook in it did not satisfy my quota. They didn't even fucking bother recording the show. What the fuck? The one time that Peter Snow goes abroad, he misses Rhinoceros, and noone fucking bothers to tape it. Fuck this shit. They tape ALLLL shows, so why the lack of effort this time? Fuck them, I say, Fuck them all. It was a great show, and that was all that mattered. Who cares if those shitty people didn't make the effort to see it? Who cares if it's our last show in uni and we didn't bond as a cast? Who care if we had no massive afterparty to create a sense of closure and bonding? Who cares if we were the underdogs that rose out tops? Who cares a shit. It was a fucking good show. And I want to have Aidan's babies. That's all that matters.I'll see Aidan around, somehow. He'll always be doing stuff, and even if I don't catch him around, I know for sure he'll be on The Wedge, that horrible tv show. Afterall, it pays the rent.It's time to go to bed.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
I'm probably bring paranoid and uber-sensitive, but sometimes I feel as if there're certain people I know who don't really like/want to talk to me. It might just be paranoia on my side, but then again, sometimes certain things just make me wonder. It's as if they find me boring, or uninteresting or weird, of no use to then, or simply not cool enough to warrant their time and effort. Interestingly enough, the trend seems to exist only within Performing Arts. Paranoia on my part? Mere coincidence? Or simply a matter of self-important individuals? I tend to lean towards the latter. When I'm around Performing Arts people I'm never myself. I don't feel the urge to reach out and embrace people. I don't feel as if I have to right to allow my effervescent self to explode outwards. Whereas in Student Theatre I get the more homey feeling. Perhaps it's the yellow walls and tiny corner with couches, tables and armchairs crammed in. Or maybe it's simply because the people truly are less judgemental and more accepting and genuinely nicer and less-bitchy. Of course, everyone is bitchy, but not malicious-bitchy. Just gossipy-bitchy.
Friday, September 22, 2006
I think deep down, I'm just afraid of finding that one special person to connect with. Because finding him means opening up and being in his hands and totally vulnerable. And Daphne can't have that, can she? So if I shy from away from every guy that comes my way, I'll be safe. By giving the excuse that they're not what I'm looking for in a guy. Of course, I have my perfect man in mind. And that's where he'll stay, in my mind. He doesn't exist, simply because he's my ideal, and everyone knows that ideals are called 'ideals' simply because they're idealistic and impossible to realize, and the moment they start becoming real and concrete, they cease to be the ideal and some other form of the ideal replaces it. Ahhh, how deceitful we are of ourselves.So tomorrow will be the last performance of the last show of my degree(unless I do Honours, which opens another whole new bigger can of worms). How am I feeling? I'm stoked! In the morning I've an audition for a panel of directors which can sit anywhere between 20-60 people. I'm positively pumped/freaked out/anxious/worried out of my freaking mind/panicky/scared/excited/unsure/shitting myself. You get the picture. I hope it all goes well. I hope I don't forget my lines. I hope I don't get stumped and get stage fright. I hope I don't answer their questions with stupid answers. I hope I don't arrive late. I probably should stop this procrastination and get back to my monologue... Yeah... probably...Right! Enough procrastination! Hope I impress someone tomorrow!!!!!!!!!
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Today is The Day. The day I break a poor boy's heart. The day I finish my wonderful performances in Wacky Shorts. The day I close the chapter on this wonderfully colourful (literally) and enlightening experience that has seen me through the past month of shitness. I can feel myself getting pumped up. For the massive afterparty. God that's gonna be fun! And crazy! And maybe debaucherous? I dunno, I'm gonna sit back and watch the people around me get trashed and hook up. Heh heh heh. Now all I have to do is just to discipline myself. Guh. But first, into the city to do stuff. Oh wait... the shoe shop's not open on Saturdays... Fuck. Now what do I do with myself til 345pm? You know how when your days have been so packed full and you're running from one thing to the next and you suddenly get that unexpected free moment to yourself, you just kinda blank out and go 'Now what do I do???'. Thinking ahead now, but when Rhino goes into production week, well, more like production DAY, next week, I hate to say this, but I hope I don't started dreading it. It is a splendid show, *quote* "We have to gold, we just have to make it shine" *unquote* It's just that, well, I think the people from Wacky were nicer to be around. Not that the Rhino cast isn't fun, Gosh no, they're a fun bunch. But... less down-to-earth and more elitist. If you know what I mean. It's like having your bandaid ripped away from you and having your arm plunged into salt water to sterilise it. Okie, bad analogy. Makes no sense at all. But you know what I mean. It's like popping the Wacky bubble and stepping into mud. Well, not mud, more like... Rhino composte, with a bar of gold buried in it. Enough whinging!!!!! Go clean up the apartment, sort out the laundry or you'll be going to uni in your undies, and do your homework!!!! GUH! Procrastinating woman!!!! First, pay your bills. Yeap. That's a great first step to be taking.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Zings of sharp wit'I once saw underwater porn. How do they do it?''You drown.''That probably explains why they never made it big.''I love House. The last episode I saw was the one with the Jesus boy.''Asia's left of the centre of the universe. Which is New York, by the way.'Gosh I'm funny.I have reached the conclusion that I am an immensely cowardly thoughtless selfish person. I always assumed that I try my best to be considerate towards the feelings of others, yet the past few days have just proven me so wrong. I just want to disappear; wish nothing had ever happened; wish he'd never come into my life. Not because it's all terrible or anything, just simply because it'd all be so much simpler and easier. I'm a coward. I have no idea what I want, and I'm dragging an innocent vulnerable person down with me by my frivolous emotional swings.I am also an unforgiving conceited person. My level of tolerance has plummeted. I have become self-obssessed and callous, and so cut-throat I frighten myself. When you're around people who constantly disappoint you, and people who never pull their weight around and you constantly have to watch your own back and be on the lookout, you naturally acquire a certain bite. A bite you never knew you had, and you wish you hadn't acquired, which scares you because you've become the person you always wanted to keep away from. How is it possible to stay untainted in the face of adversity? I wish I could but I can't so I won't. Is that a futile excuse? Probably. But what else can I do? I'm merely human, and if the people I thought mattered to me fail to support my claim, what else is there for me to do but to get all cynical and downtrodden?I'm sticking to the theatre circle. As fake as it is, I know I can count on it to be fake. Rather than placing my implicit trust on something out of the theatre circle and thinking it's genuine, only to have it turn around and bite me in the arse. Least in the theatre I know it's all an illusion and a suspension of disbelief. It's good while it lasts.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
I fear I'm going through a spate of selfish inconsiderate indulgence. Why is it so hard to be a good person and make wise decisions without hurting anyone? Why can't there be someone to do the thinking and decision making for me? I should be cloud nine, shouldn't I? Isn't this what I've always been looking forward to? Yet why do I still feel uncertain and wary? Why am I afraid of what lies ahead? Is this not what I've been looking for? Or have I been searching in the wrong direction? Or is this simply not 'it'? I don't know. I can't think right now, it's fucking up my head. Maybe the grass is always greener on the other side.Quotable Quotes from opening night of Wacky Shorts'It's like watching a baby being born. Not that I've seen it before.' - While peeling strips of tape off a newly painted stripey wall'You're the glue that holds us together. No, you're the solvent in the glue that holds us together.' - To Anj, our darling Wacky Shorts stage manager.' "Magic marker. Doesn't wash off." But it falls off.' - With regard to a piece of faulty prop.'Cake, the best thing since sliced bread.' - Both the band and the food.Am I on a roll or what?? I'll say!
|
|
 |
|
 | |
|
