Essie Speaks - mostly about movies - but also of books, countries, life. Mostly movies though :) (Updated every weekend - sunday night latest ^-^)P.S. ALL THE MATERIAL ON THIS SITE IS COPYRIGHTED AND MAY NOT BE REPRODUCED WITHOUT PERMISSION OF ITS WRITER - AND THAT WOULD BE ME!
One of my New Years' resolutions absolutely needs to be to observe holidays both online and off... I didn't mean to forget to wish you a Merry Christmas. Or a happy New Year. I hope you had and have both. It's just that with me and films, it's pretty much business as usual. I am not into films that are especially seasonal. One effect it does have on me though is that I have a bit of a check back on the year and try and catch up with any of the big ones I failed to see this far.
Hence my review of Mr. Holmes. I started watching this thinking it would be something nice and easy to watch one evening. And while it was definitely nice, easy to watch is not exactly how I would describe it. Well, with a legend like McKellan portraying a legend like Holmes, I should have known better...
I better get onto the show. Scroll down folks, and I hope you enjoy!
Essie
It’s always
a risk to meet celebrities and personal heroes in real life, isn’t it? Who
knows what they are like in real life, their public persona is, after all,
there to please. In real life, well, they can get away with pleasing a lot
fewer people, let’s put it that way. And there you have it, dreams destroyed in
instants.
And boy oh
boy wouldn’t the long suffering Mrs Munro (Academy Award nominee Laura Linney)
know it… She and her little boy Roger (Milo parker) are housekeepers to the
famous detective Sherlock Holmes (Sir Ian McKellan). You would think this was
an honour, an adventure and a thing to be proud of. The problem is though, that
Holmes in real life (unlike his legend) is getting old and he is doing it with
very bad grace indeed. He is battling the first stages of dementia, which makes
his personal torture double because he is also looking back on his life wracked
with regret, regret concerning a particular case that really didn’t go Holmes’
way… The problem is, Holmes can’t exactly remember what happened. And for this
reason he can’t figure out if there is a way back from this tragedy… His only
source of joy is Roger, a bright and talented boy who adores Holmes. However
Roger is only nine and his mother does not approve of this unlikely friendship
so his assistance may well be too little too late…
I loved
this film for so many reasons. First up, amusingly enough, Holmes himself
contemplates the legend of Holmes and frankly finds lacking a lot. And quite a
few bits added on. It’s a wonderful reflexion on celebrity and the legend
created around the famous. It is almost as if celebrities aren’t allowed to be
human beings with the occasional bad day and bad mood. More importantly they
don’t always have control over what the public imagine them to be and therefore by
default “become” something or someone they can barely recognize themselves.
Consider the case of Mr Holmes then, who on top of all of that is now also
suffering from dementia and having to struggle with his own demons. Or if you
would prefer, consider any other star that has to cope with pleasing the public
with their performances on stage and off while fighting big and scary personal
demons. Think Amy Winehouse or Kurt Cobain… Sure Mr
Holmes spells out the same message in the safety of a nice little whitewashed
cottage on the coast, but it is basically the same story and it ain’t pretty…
On top of
all of that, Mr Holmes is an unflinching gaze directed at old age. The skill of
Ian McKellan is truly extraordinary as he portrays, in turn, a greying but
still very much on form Sherlock Holmes on his last case and contrasts it quite
beautifully to the frail old man desperately trying to hold onto his memories,
his sanity but maybe most importantly his former self. As I watched McKellan I couldn’t help but
think that it couldn’t have been an easy part to play, not least because he
himself is 76 years old. Although he is on top form in the film (and in real
life as far as we can tell!) one cannot help but wonder if at times he felt
that portraying this aging celebrity looking back at his life and his public persona
cut a little too close to home. But then again, this is what it takes to be a
truly great actor. You cannot worry about “looking good” if you want to do the
part justice. You can only go straight forward, warts and all, and this is what
creates performances like McKellen’s where we feel truly sorry for Holmes and
feel - perhaps for the first time – that
he has become a real person.
I actually
love this last point too. Think for example of Holmes’ more famous modern
incarnation in the form of Benedict Cumberbatch. A combination of modern
technology and latest fashions means that Holmes is more like a superhero than
anything else. Except that his superpowers are quite “human” and even though
they are definitely improbable in real life, they are definitely not
impossible. In short, the ideal kind of superhero for our disenchanted times…
Now we finally see Holmes with the mask off – as it were. And even Holmes
(McKellen) cracks a giggle as he watches the “legend of Holmes” in the cinema.
There is something wonderfully self-reflexive about this latest addition to the
canon of Holmes reenactments watching itself on a (albeit fictional) cinema
screen. But I guess this Holmes is slightly different. Just as Cumberbach’s
Holmes is a superhero without “super” powers, a more realistic Holmes would not
be completely invincible. Old age and death come to us all after all, and
Homes’ ultimate battle with his greatest nemesis – dementia – is one that all
of us can sympathize with on some level.
For all
that though, Mr Holmes is very much an upbeat film. I recommended it to my
grandmother and mother, and both are particularly partial to “happy” films. Yes
it is melancholy and thought provoking in places, but the friendship between
Roger and Holmes – with Roger potentially taking the baton from Holmes in some
unseen future – is a sight to behold.
I'm back. I finally am. I have taken a few weeks off work, I am being very lazy (I haven't changed out of my pijamas for an inordinate amount of time) and am binge-watching films on various online mediums which should make for a good stash of reviews for the next few weeks.
We should be ok from now on. Although, of course, I have said this a good many times before, I can only show in time and with my actions that I mean it.
It has been a strange winter. I have really pushed myself hard. To the point that friends and fellow cast members have taken me aside and expressed concern. Strangely enough I was not aware I was pushing myself. I didn't even realise I was tired until I began to rest. But if you happen to be one of the lovely people who worried about me, please relax. I am resting. I am eating well (well, I am eating a lot which is... ok it's not the same thing but I am eating actual food, not coffee and sugar so that's a start right? Baby steps guys, baby steps...). I am making sensible plans about my future. It involves writing on a regular basis, so please keep watching this space. But above all I am fully aware that burnout is a real thing (I have actually suffered from it before and have actually lost my last white-collar job because of it. I was trying to balance a full time office job and two freelance type jobs all at once which "broke" me. But that's a story for the pub). And I fully intend to not go there again.
Ehm. Well that was a little more personal than I expected. Ok I'm going to work on those reviews now. Then I will email my editor (looking at you Adam) and see what's going on over in other websites. In the meanwhile here's a review of a play. Check it out.
I don’t
know if you guys remember what I did when I first got into film… I actually
made it my business to watch a film a day. It’s a habit I plan to get into once
the nightmare that is working in catering during the Christmas period is over
and done with for one more year. My point though, is that I would genuinely
have loved to have been able to do this for theatre too.
I have
several problems in doing this though. I mean first of all, you have to make a
substantial chunk of time for it. Which is fine, except if you have a million
commitments and only one of you –a situation you are barely sustaining already
- so really barely have time to shower
every day much less factor in trips to the theatre. Cheap tickets aren’t that
hard to come by really – there are a million and one discount ticket websites
all around and with a bit of careful planning you can find a ticket of some
sort – but the thing is I rather do prefer getting “proper” seats, i.e. not the
nosebleed seats. Well what can I say, that’s my little luxury… In short, I
genuinely wish I could, but I can’t. I nearly missed this twice. Got on the
bandwagon with a bunch of friends at the 11th hour, three weeks went
by, I forgot we had booked the tickets and had to do a lot of wriggling out of
work to be able to attend.
Well, the
guys had certainly picked a good one. The Homecoming is considered one of Pinter’s
best plays and Jamie Loyd one of his best interpreters of our time. With a stellar cast to boot, this has to be
one of the stronger productions of the play… It is the story of Teddy (Garry
Kemp) who returns from America to introduce his new wife, Ruth (Gemma Chan) to
his family. His mother has long since departed this world and his cantankerous
father ( Ron Cook), his uncle, Sam (Keith Allen) and brother Joey (John
MacMillan) and Lenny (John Simm). This is a thoroughly masculine household,
clearly marked by a lack of warmth and love. And from the moment she arrives,
Ruth’s very presence changes absolutely everything… But how will this strange power
struggle – with Ruth as the ultimate prize – ever end?
We went to
this play as a mixed group of friends – most of the women came out of the play
crying “Misogyny!” – and of course strictly speaking this is true. The entire power
play in the game (for it is, in all but name, a game) is based around sex and
gender. The portrayal of the household before Ruth as uniquely male and
therefore cold, full of resentment and loveless is a very old-fashioned way of
determining gender roles . And when it boils down to the final confrontation,
the entire power play is based around sex. That and – for those who know the play
– the final position Ruth ends up in puts the whole dialogue between the
genders onto a purely sexual plain – not even an emotional one. In this sense,
the character of Ruth is clearly reduced to her gender and nothing else. But
herein of course lies the talent of Gemma Chan who is very clever at hinting at
the hidden depths – and not all of them particularly pleasant! – of Ruth that
has been suppressed by circumstance and ‘50s society. Yes, without a doubt Pinter’s
story is a misogynistic and reductionist portrayal of a woman. But the other point
to remember is that this is by and large the reflection of the society the play
was created in. Art and life are, at the end of the day, pretty much
inextricable.
The other
thing worth pointing out is that in this particular universe Ruth does – in my
opinion – end up as the boss. True, her control over the men is purely sexual
(although the final scenes of the play do hint at a lack of more motherly
affection that is the key problem as well) but the point is that she is, in one
sense, the one calling the shots. The only problem is that apparently she
cannot exert any kind of control without using her sexuality. But she is the
boss, nonetheless.
This is a
brave production. I loved the minimal and stark décor and the permanent air of
uncomfortable cold and resentment that runs through almost every single line
exchanged between the mail characters. The music, the décor (or indeed the lack
thereof) and the whole story marks it out, at first at least, as a very “male”
story made for a man’s world. I guess what we should see it as is what happens
if you insert one strong and provocative female character into this very male
world. It definitely provides a lot of food for thought.
The
Homecoming is not one of the faint of heart. It is not a bit of light
entertainment of an evening. It is strong, it grabs you by the throat and
forces you to look at some stuff that is not necessarily that pleasant to look
at. It is however a wonderfully talented cast performing a story that is –
whether we like it or not – strangely relevant to our present day, at least
definitely at some parts of the world and of modern society. Also – from personal
experience – a good introduction to Pinter, if you haven’t been introduced yet!
I am ridiculously busy though. Close friends and my mother all agree that I am living the life of roughly three seperate people . Apparently none of them blog. Which is unfortunate. To be honest, I have barely had time to watch anything. And those I did see, I have barely had the time to review. My writing on other websites have suffered too, although I am clawing my way back... It is quite obvious to me that this is now more than a minor hiccup and more a reorganisation of my life. I crave your patience as I work out where everything goes in this brave new world. But in the meanwhile I do hope you enjoy this weeks review... Best, Essie
Oh boy, I
have been wanting to catch up with this bad boy for a while. This got chins
wagging back in the Oscar season, remember… First it was Steve Carells
unbelievable performance as the archetypal (real life ) crazy millionaire John
Du Pont. Carell, by and large known for his comic performances shot right to
the top of the Oscar nominations list with his performance, and incidentally
with his make-up. Or rather his make-up shot to the top of nominations without
him, it is after all a different category. Then there was the whole scandal
about Channing Tatum getting snubbed in the best supporting actor category. You
know shit just got awkward when even Mark Ruffalo who got nominated instead of
him openly says Tatum has been snubbed. And then, then there was the whole
matter with the real life Mark Schultz who withdrew his support from the film
shortly after its release. Having seen the film he was warned that the film
could potentially portray him as gay and strongly opposed to any such thing
being the case. Though to be honest everyone also noticed that Schultz was
rather opportunely pointing towards his own interviews and books he had
contributed to as an alternative source… Mmm… Anyway, you will recall it
definitely made its own fair share of ripples, not least because it actually is
– that old favorite of mine – a true story. A story of madness and murder – a favorite of
the general public too now you mention it! Oh and yeah, there is the odd bit of
wrestling thrown in…
David and
Mark Schultz are a brother team of great renown in the wrestling world. Both
are Olympic gold medal winners but David (Mark Ruffalo) is generally seen as
the superior talent and definitely a much better coach and trainer than Mark
(Channing Tatum) who is more hot-headed and definitely full of resentment at
not being able to escape his brothers shadow. It is for this reason that when,
seemingly quite out of the blue, he is approached by eccentric millionaire John
du pont (Steve Carell) he sees in his proposition an opportunity to finally
strike out on his own and succeed. The stakes are high- du pont wants to be the
coach of the American wrestling team that is sent to the 1988 Olympic games. He
wants David to be a part of it and to help coach the team. He will spare absolutely
no expense in doing so. For David, living alone in a tiny flat and living off
the American equivalent of pot noodles, it’s a whole new world… But it is also
the beginning of a relationship tinged with drug abuse, obsession and ambition
that will prove extremely destructive in more ways than one…
First of
all, let us get the most obvious bit out of the way. The wrestling. I cannot
stress enough that this is not a sports film. The wrestling is, in fact, almost
incidental – although goodness knows du pont himself would be very displeased
with that. This is a very insightful and fascinating look at obsession and how
it pushes people to react. Carell must have jumped for joy as an actor when he
got the part of Du pont – what a character! Basically a real life Norman Bates
(only with added millions of dollars and gigantic estate), Du pont – well into
middle age – is ruled by his mother Jean (played rather superbly by Vanessa
Redgrave) and deep down wants nothing more than to rebel against her. In his quest,
he has come up with a sport she would definitely disapprove of, and that would
set him apart from her (she breeds prize racehorses) and becomes completely
obsessed with becoming the best in the world at it – so he is not only
rebelling but in fact overshadowing her as he does it… And he has the resources
that enable him to not stop at anything to achieve this goal…
Then of
course there is the whole dynamic between Mark and David, the eternal story of
sibling rivalry. Both actors do a superb job of their parts. And I really don’t
care how much stick you give Tatum about the Magic Mike franchise – the man can
act. And boy can he move. I am not just talking about how good looking he is
(and let’s face it ladies and gents he is DAMN good looking) he just has a
talent of moving fluidly and looking damn good while he does it. The one piece
of criticism I will put across however is that the character of David is a
little too perfect. He seems to be the archetypal benign older brother, perfect
coach and father. I mean, I never knew the guy, maybe he actually was like
that. But I have a nasty suspicion that there is some level of whitewashing –
so to speak – going on in the light of, not to give out too many spoilers, what
happens next…
Foxcatcher
sustains a very robust level of tension throughout. It had me on the edge of my
seat throughout and the successful way it sustained the psychological tension
between this extraordinary and larger than life characters was a large part of
it. It is a wonderful study of the human
mind set against one of the most competitive strands of an already competitive
industry (professional sport). I personally found it both hair-raising and
thought provoking. And I promise you, you will, at the very least, get what all
the fuss is about…
I try to
stick to the tradition of watching a horror film or two on Halloween. Even if I
am busy, or ill (or both) that is my way of celebrating the holiday. In my
native Turkey we do very little to celebrate this holiday so that is where it
stops for me. I mean, I can always do with an excuse for watching horror films
and eating candy. The Evil Dead was my second film this Halloween. I actually
checked out the trailer at around 2.00 in the morning, in the dark. It gave me
the willies so I left it to the morning. Now those of you who know me in real
life will know I do not scare that easily so I was surprised at feeling nervy
at a trailer. But hey, I had already watched one really spooky film so I cut
myself some slack.
I watched
this big boy the next day, in broad daylight, with cats and people milling
around noisily outside my door. I was TERRIFIED. I am a grown woman and we are
talking cringing, pausing the film multiple times, hiding from the screen
behind my fingers, the whole nine yards… Sam Raimi, you sick, sick puppy…
Of course
horror fans will know that The Evil Dead is now officially one of the archetypes
of a specific type of horror film. You know, a group of young people end up in
a remote spot in the woods (more often than not they are renting a cabin though
God only knows why you would choose to vacation bang in the middle of a weird
forest all by yourselves but hey… Suspension of disbelief and all that. ) So
yeah, our group of young people come to a remote cabin that they are renting as
a relaxing vacation. But the whole thing goes south very quickly when they
discover a sinister looking study on demonology left by the previous occupant.
Nobody takes the study very seriously and it is read out loud to much hilarity,
however… Unbeknown to them, they have
woken a curse… And it is coming straight for them…
The Evil
Dead was one of those infamous films that was banned for years in some
countries, edited heavily in others and definitely became the stuff of legend
very quickly in all. What gets you in the gut is the absolutely brutal savagery
of the film combined with a rather masterfully created atmosphere. And the absolutely savage violence is
unrelenting, no holds barred and in a word, not tastefully done at all. It is a
complete battery on your senses and after a while you are just reduced to
staring at the screen in terror, unable to turn away – pretty much like
watching a train crash. The fact that the film was made in 1980 and that some
of the effects were very patently achieved with stop motion and play dough is
neither here nor there. Raimi seems to know exactly where all your primal fears
are and how best to abuse them. You literally have no escape…
And yet,
the overkill (literally) on violence does not make you glaze over after a
while. The film is intelligent and humorous throughout and keeps you oddly
engaged, which is not good news for your nerves if you are basically engaged
with a cabin full of murderous and bloodthirsty demons. Several tropes are noted and turned on their
heads as they go along – there is, for example a typical character who would be
the –last girl – in normal films. You know how it goes, the couples get plucked
off one by one, the last, pure (often white and single) girl survives, thus
making the film a hidden ode to the patriarcle system. Well we start off with
two couples and the sister of one of the boys –familiar enough. But then the potential
last girl is actually the first to be cursed, shortly after being raped by a
tree (no that was not a typo) I might add. The film studies student in me wants
to also make something of the fact that she gets trapped under the cabin in the
cellar for a good part of the film after she is transformed into a demon, you
know, repressed female sexuality and all that jazz. Especially since our last
boys girlfriend is used quite openly to tempt him into the demonic fold. I did
tell you that the film hits you at your most primal – and sex is, as we all
know, a large part of all that.
This is not
one of those horror films you put on just to giggle at the monsters and the general
lack of common sense prevalent in slashers and B – movies. It’s a good, old
fashioned corner stone. It’s an actual source. Its future incarnations have diluted
it on the way, this is true, but even all these decades later when you re-visit
the source, you find that electrifying and truly demonic energy present in all
its glory, ready to inspire your dreams – and nightmares…
In our play this week Andre, our hero, struggles with his own mind as it plays trick after trick on him.
I personally have one heck of a week coming. I am no longer doing office work, I am back on the shift work so I now once again have multiple 6.00 a.m. starts looming on my horizo. Oy vey...
On a completely different note, this is London so we have officially said goodby to the sun until next spring.
Much clouds. Wow.
Anyway, I have to dash now, but I hope your week has fewer clouds than mine and much sun.
Oh I am not complaining. I am just a little chilly...
I love
going to the theatre. Movies have always been another matter, I don’t particularly
mind if I watch them in the cinema or in the living room. Well, possibly except
when the experience is better served by 3D and IMAX, you actually NEED to go to
the cinema for that. But all that aside, you might even say I prefer watching
films in my own living room, in my pajamas and munching as many noisy snacks as
my gut will hold. The magic of the theatre is completely different for me.
London is a great and wonderful place and if cheap theatre tickets are your
thing, there are a million and one different websites you can use to come by
them. You have to use your noggin a little bit, but with a minimal amount of
triage you can end up paying pretty much Band 3 prices for Band 1 tickets. I
tend to avoid Band 3 tickets, but for this play, the price was very good. So I
risked it. I ended up in literally the last row in the house, riiight up in the
rafters. I was kicking myself as I took my seat – never again such false
economies, I vowed – and my inner Middle Eastern started scanning the grand
circle below to see if there were empty seats I could sneak into during the
interval.
I am not
going to say that I will now sit in Band 3 for always and always, I will probably
still very much go for Band 2 at the very worst. But nor do I regret having got
these seats up in the rafters in this particular case. It reminds one how truly
powerful a live performance has to be. Especially as I now have pretentions at
crossing the curtain to the other side of the stage, it is awesome and quite
frightening that I, in a seat where I could comfortably touch the roof of the
building (or would be able to if I was only about a foot taller) I was actually
bowled over by the performances and the emotions. I cannot begin to conceive
how you would go about actually giving such a performance (I can’t yet,
anyway).
The Father
is the story of Andre (Kenneth Cranham). He is getting on a bit, but by and
large he is managing fine – or so he tells himself. His daughter Anne (Claire
Skinner) would tell a different story. Andre doesn’t understand why she insists
on finding him carers. Or why he frequently ends up still wearing his pajamas
at the end of the day. Or where his watch is. Some days strange men and women
come into his house (or is it is daughters?) and claim to be his daughter and
son in law, Andre just doesn’t understand. But surely it’ll all come to him…
He’s fine… Right?
Translated
from the original Moliere award winning French play by Christopher Hampton, The
Father gives us a toe-curlingly realistic portrayal of a decaying mind. The
truly fascinating thing is the way the play shows us both sides of the
argument. Kenneth Cranham’s Andre – who, in case you needed it spelled out for
you, is clearly suffering from some form
of dementia – is a larger than life character who is painfully realistic. And
the play is structured in a way that brings his disease and confusion right to
you with hair raising (in a good way) reality. But although the disease is
swallowing Andre whole, it does not swallow the story. In the midst of this
confusion we see Anne and her husband Antoine desperately trying to cope with
the effects of this disease. All characters are unflinchingly human. One
vacillates between wanting to strangle them and wanting to comfort them… And
this makes the story that little bit harder to watch if, for whatever reason,
the topic is close to your heart.
The Father
is definitely not your average evenings light entertainment. This is the kind
of show that makes you stop, shake yourself and seriously think about life.
You’ll go to the pub badly in need of a stiff drink and be a little too boisterous
and loud as you try to expulse the dark clouds that gathered in you throughout
the show. And as someone who has dementia in her family, I can testify to the
fact that you will get a powerful insight into what life with dementia truly is
like. I described the play in some detail to my mother and she reckons she
wouldn’t be able to watch the play. And for all her eccentric tastes in film (I
am yet to be able to discern a pattern with your viewing Mom, and this is from
someone who has known you for 32 years) Mom is a tough cookie. Sensitive souls
beware.
So how
would I summarize The Father ? Strong, beautiful and dark. Very dark. I would
also point out that it is in London’s Wyndham Theatre for a very limited run,
so I would strongly advise you catch it before it is gone. Go on. Get out of
the pajamas and put the popcorn to one side for two minutes. Life really does
begin outside of your comfort zone and it is worth getting a little
uncomfortable to really learn something about life.
So, week two (give or take) in my office life. It still feels like a suit of clothes that doesn't fit very well. But I am getting my own stuff in as well, so for now all is well.
It really is turning into a sort of high-stakes juggling act though. I don't find the work itself that tiring, it's the fitting my own life around it bit that is complicated. It is a valuable time-management lesson for when I return to the wierd and wonderful world of shift work. I mean, if I can actually manage my escalating acting world, household responsibilities and blog going with this sale of 9 hours of my day every day (though technically more because it takes me over an hour to get to work every day) imagine what will happe when I am back to making my own schedule! I can't wait!
In the meanwhile here's a slightly tardy review. Tardy as in the show closed two weeks ago. Oh well, it doesn't stop me thinking about it and talking about it.
Well this
is messy. This is precisely what I was talking about last week. The whole point
of my writing about plays I go to was to shine a tiny candle onto the theatre
scene. Sort of asking you to accompany me as I sneak slowly (and on a budget)
into London’s theatre scene. I saw this play absolutely ages go. I finally was
able to put some time aside to catch up on my writing. One search on Google
shows that it closed the day before I wrote this. FFS.
Never mind.
It may reopen. And there is no harm in being retrospective. And this is MY blog
God-darn it, if I want to write about a play that closed two weeks ago, I will,
so there. Boo to anyone who criticizes me.
Future
Conditional is the story of what is wrong with the British educational system.
Sporting a cast of talented young actors and starring Rob Brydon, we take a
look into the lives of those on all sides of the system. The families, the
teachers, the law-makers… In the thick of all of this, we have one young and very
talented Pakistani refugee who has an extraordinary idea about how we can make
the whole thing a lot fairer. The question is, can she get past the preconceptions
and bad habits to actually change the world…
I will
start off by assuring you that while the play really and truly IS about “what
is wrong with the educational system”, it is neither as serious or as dry as
that sentence makes it sound. There is a lot of laughter, on big topics and
small, and while we are definitely pushed to think while we watch this play –
and it clearly has its political message well and truly at the forefront of its
mind – it is not didactic at all.
That said,
it does work a lot better if you actually know a bit about the British
educational system. My knowledge, it must be admitted, is patchy. And I did
find bits of the play – it is quite heavy on very serious political discussion
– a tad hard to follow as far as the topic went. I mean don’t get me wrong you
can follow it. I am just quite sure I would enjoy it more if I knew more about
the topic.
The other
surprise for me was Rob Brydon. His role is basically that of John Keating in
Dead poets society. The only thing is, he is a very toned down version of him.
Yes his scenes are good and striking but to be that “extraordinary teacher” who
“changes his pupils’ lives” as the posters for the play professes he needed
that extra bit of “umph”. As it is, he is good and portrays his part more than ably,
but , I do wish there was more of him doing more.
I mean I
can sort of see why that artistic choice was made. Rob Brydon is the big name
of the play, but the spotlight of it stays on the topic and the young, talented
and energetic cast. He is an integral part of the process, but not the centerpiece
of the affair. This means we the audience can give a fair share of attention
and limelight to all the parts and hopefully give some thought to the message. And good theatre is all about teamwork, at the end
of the day. I have more of a problem with the fact that the whole part of the
“life saving teacher” lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. I don’t really have a problem
with whether Rob Brydon was playing the part or not. The part needed something more, something
bigger. I mean either that, or the play really should stop using the line “who
is the teacher who saved your life” (or something to that effect) in its
advertising. But the other point is that Alia, who is based largely on Malala
Yousufazi the Pakistani schoolgirl who fought for the right to female
education, does not necessarily need “saving”
in the first place. She is perfectly capable of doing it herself.
But this is not a play about teaching any side
“a lesson”. It is neither that serious nor that glum. On the contrary, it brims
with hope for the future and the new generation. Yes, it points out the flaws
in the current system clearly and concisely. Ruthlessly even. But the
overwhelming message, I felt, was one of hope. We have many bright and
beautiful young men and women growing up in this country right now. Give them
half a chance and they can fix it. All you need to do is not get stuck in your
old ways and cling to old methods that clearly don’t work. Just open your mind to
the possibility that there is a whole different way of doing things that would
make us all a lot happier.
I went to see the play on a matinee. I counted
no less than three different school uniforms in the auditorium. This gives me
hope. Young people are not just “constantly
staring at their phones” as the
older gener ations would have us believe. They are interested, and
engaged.They just do things differently –
as does every new generation.
I guess I owe you guys an explanation. So, I work in an office now. It literally happened overnight, the agency I work for needed folks to work in the office, I was magicked up. From one day to the next. Now the reason this happened so quickly is that I had been going on at them a bit to give me a stint in the office. Ya know the score, I'm over 30 now, this whole working night shifts and day shifts running into eachother, on your feet and awake until 3 in the morning is a young womans game. So finally I got my wish, I must be happy, right? Well, well...
I mean don't get me wrong I am not unhappy. It's just drastically different. And I am having to relearn survival skills I had learnt over 5 years ago and subsequently abandoned. I have to figure out a new way of organising my time. I am, provisionally, here until Christmas. For about three months I shall have a drastically different life. I shall reserve judgement about what I make of it and wether I want to keep it up or not.
The one thing that has happened is that artistic endeavours have had to be shuffled around, timewise. Acting and all my activities acting related are now part of my absolute essential daily activities like eating, washing and (ehm) going to work. They also happen to take up a good number of my evenings. And I now work 9 to 6. What I liked the most about working irregular hours was the ability to crowd necessary working hours into fewer days and have more completely off days or half days. It allowed me to have time to write and be rested on days I have a lot of artistic endeavour planned. My new schedule means I have to push through the mental leftovers of a day at the office to get to my creative juices. Sometimes I simply can't get to them all.
Now, I am getting better and better AND BETTER at maintaining energy levels and planning my time. We should be ok from this point onwards. But rest assured, if we have another massive slip-up I am going to sit down and really think about what we need to do about it. We can cross that bridge if we ever get to it. In the meanwhile please accept my humble appologies for the delay and enjoy the write-up!
I have said
this before and I will say it again, there is nothing quite like a good period
drama. The sweeping skirts the high emotion, that sense of being transported to
another world… Many are the cases where there isn’t much thinking needed – we
are watching a thing of beauty, to be admired as the embodiment of a beloved
tale but then set aside – except possibly to form mental pictures when we read
the book itself if, like in the case of Far From The Madding Crowd, it was an adaptation.
This newest
incarnation of the spirited young heiress Bathsheba Everdene comes at a very
interesting time in cinematic history. Her current embodiment, Carey Mulligan,
is a part of a very vocal part of a growing and high profile movement in the arts
promoting equal pay and opportunities for women. Her next big film will in fact
be none other than Suffragette, the story of the birth of the women’s rights
movement in England. Unless you have actually been living under a stone, you
will have heard something about how Viola Davis triumphed at the Emmys and you
will have read something of her acceptance speech that underlines the need for
more opportunities for actresses of colour . You might not think that a 19th
century novel taking place on a sweeping country estate is not the ideal place
to start discussing women’s equality (except maybe to point it out as a
terrible example). But those who are in the know will know, Bathsheba Everdene
is not your average 19th century heroine…
She is, in
fact, a young woman of very modest means who is swept to the head of an
illustrious country estate as an heiress
and fear not, the whole Deus ex machina nature of this is really, really
not lost on me. But this is not about
her rags to riches story. It is more about what she does after she arrives at
the riches. It is common to think of 19th century heroines as faint
hearted little things, all tight corsets and smelling salts, but Bathsheba is a
definite exception. She isa
canny businesswoman, excellent at managing her staff and brave in the face of
the disapproval surrounding her. Her beauty and intelligence (and of course her
riches) make her the catch of the area, soon suitors of all walks of life start
openly courting her… Bathsheba is her
own woman, and has a lot of plans about her life – and becoming someone’s
wife is definitely not among them…
What
strikes one straight away is what a modern heroine Bathsheba is. Even in modern
cinema and literature one struggles to find a heroine that is so much an active
agent in her own destiny – so it is surprising to see a heroine from a hundred
years ago putting modern heroines to shame. Carey Mulligan, it must be said,
takes the role on with gusto and spirit. I can, at this point, barely imagine
anyone else taking on the part. Another performer who has been highly praised
is Michael Sheen or stars as one of her suitors, her neighbour Mr Boldwood – I
honestly wish we could see more of him in the story but he has two other
suitors to contend with so we must make do with relishing the sheer quality of performance
over the comparative lack of quantity. One of the main suitors, Gabriel Oak, is
brought to life by Mathias Schoenarts. Schoenarts is well suited for the
handsome yet slightly sullen Farmer Oak, although – and I don’t I can never decide whether he has simply been
cast in a series of characters that find it difficult to display emotion or
that the actor himself actually finds displaying emotion hard…
A lot has
been said on how pretty the film is, and I must agree. The stunning Kent
countryside is a character of the film itself. And although there are some very
poignant moments in the film where you are literally hanging off the edge of
your seat, by and large, the film is beautiful. But not that deeply engaging. This
is an unsurprising result of adapting a long and complex
novel into a two hour commercial film intent on getting bums on seats (as is
the want with all of show business).The resulting film is rather pretty but has
lost some of its grit along the way. It is polished and a little too perfect –
as if it is trying very hard to get all the requirements for a period drama
correct so that we can focus on the more thought provoking aspects of the film.
Or possibly so we can pardon them…
The problem
is that the lack of grit makes the whole affair even less believable. The story
loses some of its strength through sheer poise and grace. To give but one example,
I would have wanted Gabriel Oak to have a bit more of a rant – not full-blown
broken furniture but still something – when he realises that Sergeant Troys
insistence on ignoring the approaching storm may well ruin them all. Similarly,
in the scenes that follow I think Bathsheba could very well have made a bit
more of a fuss (to put it mildly) as the details of Troys past come pouring
out. I mean of course she reacts but it all feels very much single tear rolling
gracefully down the cheek… It is as if marriage (minor spoiler alert) has
deflated Bathsheba’s spirit overnight, making her very elegant but about half
the woman she was at the beginning of the film. This change may well have taken
place during married life but I very much doubt it would have happened
within about a week of being wed…
All told,
Far From The Madding Crowd is enjoyable. Yes it could have been bigger,
stronger, more. But what it has is still quite strong, elegant and graceful. It
is an artistic choice at the end of the day – you could go down the route of
underlining the feminism in the story and going for something more gritty,
modern and realistic. But another choice is to hint at those themes and stick
with the period drama routes of the production – it makes it the best of both
worlds, edgy but just safe enough… Being a businesswoman, I am sure Bathsheba
would have understood…
It is the bane of human existence that people are not always what they seem. Sometimes this is because of some kind of sinister plan, for whatever reason the person is trying to manipulate you for whatever reason.
But sometimes it is a tad more complicated than that. Maybe you are trying to leave your past behind. You need to be reinvented and you are trying to become the person you are portraying - you may not be there yet but with hard work you intend to! Or maybe, like Morvern, you are actually suffering terribly but sharing your pain with the world is not the solution.
When faced with periods of great change some of us want to run out enthusiastically, eyes shining to scream the progress at the world, be it good or bad. Others need to take a more quiet approach. You may not hear them screaming, and jumping around, but if you look closely you will see their eyes glowing in the dark. And if you draw a little closer you will see there is just as much, if not more, going on in their hearts. It is merely a matter of knowing where - and how - to look...
I have, up
to a point, returned to my Film Studies roots. I have, through this method and
that, had the opportunity to take a look back at important films and directors
and watch some really interesting stuff I would not have normally initially
chosen. Life being what it is, this means I am falling behind slightly on the
new releases but oh well. I can’t be everywhere. And they will be released to
DVD soon enough. I am aware that the day I day I will have a list as long as my
arm of films to watch – it is categorically impossible to watch them all – but
I like to try… I mean, what’s the point of life otherwise, right…
And this
week I take a look at one of the most important British female directors
knocking around, Lynne Ramsey. Morvern Caller was not a film I had heard of,
but it was a bit before my immersion in cinema. In any case it seems to have
wiped a fair bit of the slate clean between awards won at Cannes, San Sebastian
and the British Independent Film Awards. Morvern Caller is strong and outspoken
as films go, it doesn’t always make incredibly easy viewing but its honest
description of raw emotion carries you through to the end.
One day around
Christmas, supermarket shelf stocker Morvern Caller comes home to find her
boyfriend, an aspiring writer, has committed suicide. He has a single request
from her as far as earthly matters go and that is to have his newly finished
novel published. Morvern, stunned, obliges, and uses the funds from it in her
quest to come to terms with her own emotions and figure out what her next move
will be now that her life has changed forever.
What I love
about the film is that Morvern’s reactions to this clearly unexpected upheaval
in her life are gloriously illogical. And it is precisely this “lack of logic”
that makes the film so close to real life. All of a sudden everything in
Morvern’s life is different. And yet the world goes on around her, most of the
things she has known all her life, her friends, her job, relatives, they are
all exactly how she left them except – and unbeknown to them – Morvern herself
has literally changed overnight. And now
she has to rediscover how to approach them again. It is during this period of
discovery that she will decide what she needs to do next…
As far as
we can tell Morvern is a pretty average girl. She doesn’t like her job and
lives for the weekend, liking nothing more than getting high/drunk/both with
her best friend Lana. Morvern’s first reactions seem pretty heartless, it would
appear that for her it’s just business as usual. The thing is, both we and
Morvern will quickly discover that this is affecting her a lot more than it
would first seem…
We all have
upheavals, pain, change and surprise developments in our lives. It could be,
like Morvern, a death or something else that causes it but sometimes, one
morning you just wake up and you know you are no longer the same person. The
world around you may very well not understand, or indeed they may not have a
cause to do so. This is especially true when coming to terms with the death of
a loved one, we stare with disbelief at the world – untouched by our loss –
carries on as normal and we wonder how we could ever have been a part of it and
wonder if we can ever join it again… Yet we do. Sometimes we truly will never
be the same again and sometimes the change is a lot subtler than we think it
is…
Intense and
hard to watch at times, Morvern Caller is definitely NOT what you need when you
come back home tired from work and need something to uplift you. You will
sympathise with Morvern, get frustrated with her and want to give her hug ,
sometimes all at once. Or maybe you will feel neither. The film is a truly
extraordinary exploration of human emotion and one thing I can guarantee is
that you will end up feeling something. Something you really do not want to
miss.
In my life this week I am coming to terms with the fact that sometimes things do not go according to plan.
You may well think you know something. Or that you are ontop of it - whatever it may be - or that you have come far enough to move onto the next step. Then you may wake up with a jolt one fine morning only to find out that in a word, you have more studying to do.
The key here is to dust yourself off and forge your way forward. If you just slump into a heap where you fall or just roll off the track completely, well... That IS a bit of a setback. But it is important to the remember that often you are your own setbacks. Sort your own head out and chances are stuff will start falling into place.
This weeks protagonist, Emma, was quite sure she was on top of EVERYTHING not just IT. This is the ideal state of things of course, the problem is that if it falls apart, IT ALL falls apart...
As a
relative novice I am finding the National Theatre a fascinating experience. I
am completely ready to admit that this is part of my own prejudices as well. I
guess I have to learn not to judge a book by its cover – it generally is a
mixed crowd (generally – I have only been there twice) as far as both age and apparent
social status goes. There has been a very marked older crowd though. You know,
hair done, pearl earrings for the ladies, gents wearing jackets and cravats. My
own personal prejudices would have made me think that they were not the kind of
people who would choose to watch very avant-garde works about sex, drugs,
addiction at all, much less give standing ovations at the end of it. You learn
something new every day I guess. And to be honest I rather like the idea of
this ephemeral thing that unites the
audience – and, once the show begins the actors - that overcomes age, social
class (whatever that may be) and background and unites everyone almost inside a
work of art. I guess I would have to say it is this thing is the main magic of theatre. The story unfolding in front of
you and us getting caught up in it just feet away from the goings on, transported
by the actors and our imaginations… It was magical enough – for me - to be part
of the audience but now trying to walk through the looking glass over to the
other side has thrown up a whole new philosophical debate inside my head (and
my life). In this context the timing of people places and things was very opportune.
I could sum
the plot of the play up in one single sentence. Emma (Denise Gough) has rocked
up to a rehab center one fine night. All she needs is a letter to say she is OK
to go back to work. Ok, maybe a little detox wouldn’t go amiss either. But
that’s it really. She has no deep set issues or kinky shit she needs to sort
out. No need to talk to the group; surrender to a higher power or any such
nonsense. She’s savvy. She knows what’s what. She’s different – or is she…
Now, minor
spoiler as far as the plot goes (soz, but I would find it INCREDIBLY hard to
write an accurate review otherwise ),
Emma is an actress. Rest assured, this is more than an excuse provided by the
writer for her drug and alcohol habit, or indeed a potential danger for when
she leaves the center. I mean, to be absolutely honest with you I would love to
be able to watch the play again – I actually might. The aim of the play, apart
from expressing a real love for the craft of acting, is to explore multiple
realities. The stories we tell ourselves versus the version of us we willingly
– or often unwillingly and unwittingly – show to others. What better way to do
this than to use a craft where the practitioner needs to actively live multiple
lives and be multiple people. A strange
thing to be payed to do, especially in a world where being one single person
can already be quite complicated…
The beauty
of this play is though that it doesn’t batter you with these very heavy themes.
They sort of seep in, you only realize they were there when you sit back, think
about it, and realize they have already seeped into your brain. Because the
stage design is just so totally amazing, so completely mesmerizing that it
comes with a warning about strobe lighting and total blackouts in the
auditorium. You will get literally nothing about it out of me. It is one of THE
most visually striking THINGS I have seen in my life and you absolutely HAVE TO
experience it cold. And that’s basically that.
This play
will sit in your head for a while. There are wonderful insights into the world
of acting, sure, but also wonderful reminders of what it is like to try to be a
million different people in one day. Of being utterly sure one is unique when
actually one is (actually or metaphorically) one in a long line of actors /
actresses who look just like you trying to stand out via the tiniest little
nuances. It’s weird and the description may make it sound sad, but in a funny
kind of way it’s also liberating…
In short,
come take a shot of the magic. This batch is particularly strong…
You will
have noticed I have a penchant for real life stories. I am not going to go over
it again and again. But what I possibly love the best about this kind of true
story is when art and real life come together and touch. I don’t know, we don’t
have enough art in our real life I reckon, even though real life is more
artistic than one might think. I was attracted to Dear Lupin principally because
it’s the story of father-son duo Roger and Charles Mortimer as brought to life
by real life father and son duo James and Jack Fox. I had very little knowledge
of the book and the story it told but honestly just wanted to see how and if
the real father son relationship bled into the performance, and how. Well it
does. And it’s adorable.
But before
we get to that bit let us back track for two minutes and take a look at the
story – the real life story – that started all of this. Because be it a film or
be it a play, it all begins with a good yarn…
Roger
Mortimer is a racing journalist. He has a wife and three children and they live
a reasonably comfortable if slightly eccentric life in the British countryside.
Most life events chug along as normal and expected, but there is one notable
exception. Charles, Rogers oldest and
most wayward offspring. Over the years Roger desperately tries to keep
Charles (a.k.a. Lupin) from going off the rails but never judges or condemns.
He does this through a collection of around 150 letters written throughout the
years that Charles makes into a book after the death of his father. It is this
book that we can now watch as brought to life by James and Jack Fox at the Apollo
theatre today.
I won’t go
into the details of the story. Yes the story is quite a yarn but not in a
Mission Impossible, fast trains and explosions kind of way. Nor is it even like
Motherf**ker in the hat, as reviewed last week with the raw emotion on constant
and unabashed flow. It is a very, very British tale of emotion of equal
quantity hidden under mannerisms and understatements. And yet Roger clearly has
a way with the written word and Charles is completely candid in telling the ins
and outs of his rather tumultuous life so it only takes a very small amount of
reading between the lines to see the enormous amounts of affection flowing
between the father and son. It’s definitely a touching affair throughout. But
don’t worry – you will be laughing out loud a lot more often than wiping away
any tears…
The performance
itself is quite a brave one on many levels. In the first place, this is a
matter of storytelling as much as it is acting – there are no re-eanctments of
scenes from the letters, but the letters are read (quoted rather) explained and
the bare bones of it sketched out by the two man cast who support the story
with vigour, talent and ease throughout. James Fox embodies the middle aged
English gent of a certain era to perfection so it is a joy to see his
quicksilver acting talent shining through in the little moments on stage. Jack
Fox , our main narrator – as in the book – is both an engaging storyteller and
clearly set to do great things in the world of acting but although the
technical prowess and bravery is only one side of the performance that touched
me.
It is no
great spoiler to point out that the play follows Roger Mortimer all the way
through his life to the point his health fails and he passes away. Judging by
the alternating hugs and hand-shakes between father and son while they were
taking their bows it is as emotional a moment as I imagine it to be – especially
for Jack I would imagine. He must, after all, watch his own father die very
convincingly on stage in front of an audience for the entire run. THAT is what
I call brave.
Dear Lupin
is a warm and wonderful story for parents and offspring of all ages, for the
good and the wayward alike. Ok so it doesn’t have bells or whistles. It has, in
its stead, a heaving mass of talent, emotion and love – and don’t forget a simply
cracking yarn… You want to catch this one before it ends. No really, you do.
Yeah. Yeah I know. I should take one darn date and stick to it. Not just post updates willy-nilly whenever I feel like it.
But this play... It gave me a serious case of the feels. It made me think and write a lot of stuff... More to the point it's closing on the 20th of August.
I simply had to get the word out there. You have to check this one out.
I just want
to give you a heads up – this may turn into a play review blog at some point. Oh
I still watch films. I will still be uploading film reviews for a while yet. I
have several “ready to go” just in case as we speak. There will be more, from
cinemas, from DVDs and from the past, like last week. But this whole theatre
thing is just… Acting is just… I don’t know man. It’s changing me. It’s
altering me as a person and it’s doing it in the best way possible. I’ve never
spoken to you guys - though goodness knows I have almost begged you to comment
and talk to me – but the stats all tell
me you’re out there though and that you keep coming back. It’s been a good few
years for at least some of you so you know, I consider y’all friends. So I
don’t mind telling you all of this. I don’t know, there are moments, or indeed
entire days where I feel the exercises, the work, the plays and the playing
shakes loose and shakes out bad stuff that have been clinging to my insides for
years. I don’t know man, this is a very
strange time in my life. But I love the journey and am on and can only imagine
it leading somewhere good.
I got into
writing all of that because watching The Motherf***ker with the hat was so
cathartic. The play is unashamedly big and loud, tackling heavy subjects like
addiction, betrayal, relationships that are breaking down and love lost and
found, the play storms onto the stage from the first minute, laughing, crying,
howling and stamping its feet. And the conviction is such, the characters are
so real and the story so gripping that from the first moment, you as the
audience members get swept up in the whirlwind of emotions it portrays…
Our hero is
Jackie ( Ricardo Chavira). He has just come out of prison and is on the way to
kicking his alcohol addiction. He lives with his girlfriend Victoria (Flor De
Liz perez), with whom he has been together since 8th grade, he has
just found a job… In short, Jackie’s finally on the home straight – or so it
seems… Until he gets home one day… And there’s this hat… What follows next is
Jackie’s attempts to get his life back under control. Because if he loses it…
Well he may very well loose it for good…
Ok, I’m
going to try and write the following analysis with as few spoilers as possible.
But be warned, I may miss a trick. In which case I apologise.
It is
interesting to watch Jackie go through several different types of betrayal . First
there is the betrayal on the romantic side. Well, it’s horrendous and it’s painful
but we have all been there, right (well,
quite a few of us have)? It’s one of the main reasons a relationship receives a
blow. Sometimes the relationship heals, sometimes we move on, but at least
we’re kinda ready for it…
What we
are, more often than not less ready for is betrayal from our heroes. The people
we set up in our heads as examples. This can be one of many things, it can
either be your celebrity idol you meet one day and turns out to be a complete
jerk or someone in your life that you idolise and hold on to in some way and
you wake up one fine day and realise that this person was only human, just like
you. And do you know what; they may not even be a particularly nice human. That’s
normally to be expected, after all it’s a distinct possibility with humans… But
where does that leave you if they are the person you modelled yourself on for
any amount of time? If you turned into something unpleasant without noticing
it, that’s definitely one problem… It can feel like quite a kick in the teeth
though if the person you were imitating was in fact a complete front…
Now if I
told you that the play tackled issues like this in the context of addiction and
prison, and that it does it in two hours without a single recess, you may be
forgiven for thinking it would be incredibly heavy and hard to watch. It’s not.
The play expertly points out the absurd and the right out hilarious in the potentially
“heaviest” situations. And if those aren’t quite enough for you, there is Julio
(Yul Vazquez) . While he is clearly there for comic relief, he still
successfully walks the line between the serious and the hilarious. On the night
I watched, in some scenes practically every line he uttered was greeted with
laughter. And yet he was never, ever “absurd”. He was just what the otherwise
quite heavy and emotional content of the play needed.
I have so
much more to say about this play. It definitely did NOT receive six Tony
nominations for nothing… I haven’t even got round to Alec Newman who was
awesome but whose character I can’t really mention (I mean I can but you know,
it’s tricky) for plot twist reasons. Then there is the scenery and how the
transitions take place on stage between scenes but I want that to come as a complete
surprise too.
In short,
this is one of the most powerful plays I have seen in a very long time. And as
I write this review it has just under a week left at the National Theatre in London
with the run ending on the 20th. I’d say don’t miss it.
I know, I have been pretty shit about my timings with this blog. I am sorry. I really am.
But you know what, it's back on track. I've even got a written schedule for it and things. It's going to be good. More to the point though, it's going to be regular.
There will be a few plays scattered in there too by the way. That's a new thing that made it's way into the blog. I think I'll keep it - unless if you'd rather I didn't. Just say if that's the case.
I've slumped into a kind of summer laziness to be brutally honest with you. I'm not leaving town this year but I am trying to rest the old machinery a little bit. That's partly why my scheduling has gone to pot I think. The other half - more specific to this week - is the fact that the wifi in my house has been down for almost a week. And since I don't work with a computer, there all my writing was, stuck. On my laptop. Waiting for me to lug it to the nearest coffee shop. Oh well, luckily it didn't come to that...
Anyway, check out my review of - in some circles - cult classic Dancer in the Dark. Next week I'll be up to some theatrical mischief - and by next week I do mean wednesday in case you were confused - so stay tuned...
We all know
what Lars von Trier is like by now. His films are dark, not for the faint
hearted and heavy with the kind of twist that makes you go “oh surely not… Oh
NO! He did!”. You (or at least I) need a stiff drink afterwards more often than
not. So the fact that he had made a musical starring Bjork does not exactly
make one think “It’s The Sound of Music
all over again…” In fact, like a lot of von Trier’s films, Dancer in the Dark
comes with a warning – it is notoriously difficult to watch. None of the usual
blood and gore and shocking visuals this time though… Von Trier is playing
around with our emotional landscape and reminds us what horrible beings we
humans can be…
Selma
(Bjork) is an immigrant living in the United States. Her life is hard – her
single solitary purpose in life is to build a future for her son. To this end, she
works hard in a factory, saves every penny she earns and plans for the future…
Her one escape from her toils is old fashioned Hollywood films and especially
musicals – she even acts in the factory’s acting club… However, Selma has a
secret… Time is running out for her and she has to use all her strength if she
wants her son’s future to end up the way she hopes it will. The problem is that
human beings – even the friendliest looking ones – are unreliable beings and…
Well the long and the short of it is that you can never, ever know who you can
really trust…
Alongside
Bjork, whose striking voice and musical talent are the exact “secret
ingredients” this dark musical needs, we have the legendary Catherine DeNeuve
starring as Kathy, Selma’s friend and right hand woman at the factory. I almost
couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw her, she is as ever, a pleasure to watch. And
incidentally, please don’t get hung up on the fact that the film is
“technically” a musical. True, there are quite a few very striking musical
numbers in there but given Selma’s dreamy, almost otherworldly nature – a nature that Bjork portrays so very well –
it’s hardly out of place and any Bjork fans will follow her with quiet
enjoyment as Selma drifts off into her own little world…
And if you
really hate musicals, well, at the end of the day the musical numbers that DO
exist are Bjork songs, so it’s all a far cry from the face-splitting smiles
common to this kind of production. To be honest with you, the second big
difference is the atmos. As we all know musicals tend to be BIG. I mean, the
good guys are practically angelic and the bad guys are “evil”. In Dancer in the
Dark, it’s not so much an extreme of any kind but a sense of painful pathos
that reigns supreme. We have a villain we simply can’t help pitying, a prince
charming who annoys us – and yet we can’t help backing – and an heroine
struggling against it all, not only ailing but also proud to a fault, refusing
to ask for help, which ultimately leads to her demise… And the best bit ? It’s
all set in rather oblique contrast to The Sound of Music, the musical Selma and
the factory theatre company is putting on. Selma’s positivity and stoicism in
the face of mounting odds is greatly comparable to Maria’s, the sad difference
is that this story is very much set in the modern world. For all her sweetness
Selma is ultimately consumed by the system and no pity is shown to her – at
least not by the people who can have any influence at all over her destiny.
So first of
all for Von Trier and Bjork fans, but also for fans of musicals – who want to
see a bit of a different take on their beloved genre - and non-fans of musicals
alike this is a must see. I am not saying you will find it easy to watch – but you
won’t regret having done it either…
Shall we give this play critiquing
another shot… ? And I’m going to be honest with you folks, I’m
a little taken aback at how all-consuming this passion for acting and all
things theatre has become… It has literally taken over everything now, so much
so that I am surprised at myself. Only thing is, I’m going to have to try and
figure out a way of making money from this soonish, otherwise it’s going to
cease to become economically viable. Ehm – but less of that. Let’s talk about
Constellations.
This is the
“second” incarnation of Nick Payne’s critically acclaimed play. The original
cast – Rafe Spall and Sally Hawkins – have been replaced by relative unknowns Joe
Armstrong and Louise Brealey. Thumbing through reviews I can see the critics
have inevitably enjoyed comparing the two different casts and finding the new
cast, not big stars like their predecessors, lacking. I haven’t seen the
previous performance so I plan to do away with all that. Let’s go back to the
basics of what this blog was all about. A novice finding her way in an art form
and writing her impressions without the aid of flowery language and
“flim-flammery” .
Alright. So
what is this play about? We are all (at least vaguely I assume ) familiar with the
theory of multiverses. It is, to put it succinctly, the theory that every
decision we ever make and never make coexist in a series of parallel universes.
Constellations takes on the rather daunting task of bringing this theory to a
stage. No, it’s nowhere near as heavy as you think. It’s a two -man show
revolving around a couple, Beekeeper Roland and Marianne, a scientist. They are
a couple – or at least, they are in some universes. We watch the key moments of their lives, and
their relationships play out in at least some of their infinite possibilities.
What follows is an avant-garde tragicomedy about hellos, goodbyes and the
nature of love and time…
Now, I am
fully aware that it sounds like it may turn into incomprehensible gobbledegook,
rest assured it is neither too full of itself nor trying too hard. The scene
(at this point much photographed) is striking in its simplicity and the play
itself in the same way relies solely on the performances of its actors which are
electric yet very down to earth and relatable. Whatever else they are Roland
and Marianne are completely real, and more strikingly, they remain so through
the number of incarnations they go through throughout the play. In fact, of
course the story was engaging and fascinating but it wasn’t the bit of the play
that engaged me the most. Watching the smoothness of the transitions Armstrong
and Brealey go through as they zip backwards and forwards in the multiverse
playing first once scene and then the other was hypnotic and, to put it
bluntly, mind blowing.
You might
argue that the topic itself is hardly new. The now almost cult film Sliding
Doors starring Gwenyth Paltrow is but one example of films that explore
alternate stories and consequences of actions… But Constellations, able to distill
the heart of the story into the performance of its actors and dispense with considerations
such as continuity, scenery and costume (Roland and Marianne wear the same
clothes throughout, as opposed to a film where the characters would inevitably “have”
to change looks for every reality) can portray a dizzying number of possibilities.
The play is quick and intelligent and invites its audience to be the same. It
is not, by any stretch of the imagination, the same experience as the “dreamlike”
state of watching a film passively analyzing. In a live show you are part of
the action, part of the show. But then again, theatre has always been about - and for – audiences that want a bit more brainwork
for their buck… Some forms of theatre have been, anyway…
I don’t
know what I think of multiverses, cosmology aside. It has always felt a bit
like reincarnation for atheists to me. You know, that need to feel we don’t
quite vanish when we die, that we continue existing somewhere without going
into the whole Religion, Heaven, Hell side of things. But Constellations
definitely and strikingly explores the consequences of our actions and seeks
out the answer to the question “what if…” I am pretty confident you will come
away touched yet renewed (there are some
true-blue laugh out loud moments) and possibly wondering about your own what
ifs… As I finish this article I have just become aware that the production at Trafalgar studios that I watched has now come to an end... But who knows - maybe in another universe...
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