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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.
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