Storytelling at its best can be found at The Moth. You may have listened to it on your local Public Radio station. I am certain it is a major cause of “driveway moments”. This particular story by Tristan Jimerson “A Dish Best Served Cold” is a wonderful story, wonderfully told. They describe it as “a case of credit card fraud sets an amateur sleuth on a crime-solving caper.” (Chuck had a "driveway moment" with this story and then brought it to me. Thanks Chuck!)
Sit back and enjoy.
Showing posts with label Theater. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Theater. Show all posts
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Saturday, December 31, 2011
The Ninth Night
We went to Christmas Revels at Harvard on Wednesday.
If there was such a thing as the “ninth night” of Chanukah, that would have been the night.
But there is no ninth night.
Revels this year had a skeleton figure which moved silently and somberly throughout the show - even dancing in the lobby of Memorial Hall during” Lord Of The Dance”. Ironically, the skeleton was played by a young, lithe woman. To me, the skeleton embodied “death”; the program ascribed “time”. One could make a case for synonymousness.
Both Chuck and I found the skeleton’s presence disturbing. That’s because we are acutely conscious of death, now that Chuck’s aunt is dying.
We are all dying. Trite and cliched but it is natheless true. As we come to terms with Tanta’s cancer and begin to work with hospice, how can we be anything else but aware of death?
So to attend Revels, a celebratory tradition for us going back decades, and be repeatedly confronted with death, when what we wanted was distraction and delight, was painful. It didn’t matter that I spent intermission and one quarter of the second act on my cell phone with caregivers, an agency and an emergency room. When that incident was resolved I wanted to go back to good cheer. No matter how rousing the songs nor how robust the audience participation, there she was, the skeleton in our midst.
Perhaps it was coincidence or perhaps a message from the universe and, most likely, of universal importance. But it was more than we wanted; frankly, more than we needed.
Tanta will turn 89 next week. Her doctor, who says he is always wrong about such monumental predictions, says it will not be a year and it will not be six months.
There will likely be no 90th birthday celebration for Tanta.
Just as there is no ninth night.
If there was such a thing as the “ninth night” of Chanukah, that would have been the night.
But there is no ninth night.
Revels this year had a skeleton figure which moved silently and somberly throughout the show - even dancing in the lobby of Memorial Hall during” Lord Of The Dance”. Ironically, the skeleton was played by a young, lithe woman. To me, the skeleton embodied “death”; the program ascribed “time”. One could make a case for synonymousness.
Both Chuck and I found the skeleton’s presence disturbing. That’s because we are acutely conscious of death, now that Chuck’s aunt is dying.
We are all dying. Trite and cliched but it is natheless true. As we come to terms with Tanta’s cancer and begin to work with hospice, how can we be anything else but aware of death?
So to attend Revels, a celebratory tradition for us going back decades, and be repeatedly confronted with death, when what we wanted was distraction and delight, was painful. It didn’t matter that I spent intermission and one quarter of the second act on my cell phone with caregivers, an agency and an emergency room. When that incident was resolved I wanted to go back to good cheer. No matter how rousing the songs nor how robust the audience participation, there she was, the skeleton in our midst.
Perhaps it was coincidence or perhaps a message from the universe and, most likely, of universal importance. But it was more than we wanted; frankly, more than we needed.
Tanta will turn 89 next week. Her doctor, who says he is always wrong about such monumental predictions, says it will not be a year and it will not be six months.
There will likely be no 90th birthday celebration for Tanta.
Just as there is no ninth night.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
It Felt Like A Sunday
Chuck and I met 26 years ago next month. In September we will celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary. In the intervening years between meeting and marrying we became friends and fell in love. Shortly before we met, Stephen Sondheim wrote the Broadway musical “Sunday In The Park With George”. We were smitten with it. Song after song moved us; touched us in some deep way. The musical was inspired by Georges Seurat’s spectacular painting “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte”. In fact, the painting becomes a scrim in the musical production.
Back in the late 80s, right around the falling in love stage, we began thinking about visiting Seurat’s original painting. We even looked into a weekend plane trip from Massachusetts to Chicago, where the painting resides in a museum. But the cost of such a trip was prohibitive. When we drove across the country from Seattle to the east coast back in 1998, we were pushing to make a deadline. We were very disappointed to find ourselves traveling through Chicago around midnight.
So when the Amtrak adventure began to take shape we realized this might be our best chance. The only potential glitch was the timing. Because the railroad tracks are owned mostly by freight companies, Amtrak passenger trains often have to wait their turn to let long freights have priority. That can mean significant delays. We were lucky. “The Lake Shore Limited” arrived in Chicago on time, leaving us with nearly a four hour layover. We stashed our carry-on luggage in a locker at Union Station and hailed a taxi in the pouring rain.
Next stop: The Art Institute of Chicago.
We stepped out of the warm rain and into the cool serenity of the Art Institute. We paid our admission fee and asked for directions to the painting. In just a few moments we were in the gallery devoted to it and a few of Seurat’s other works. We were overcome. We had dreamed of this moment for almost a quarter century. We sat on a long wooden bench and tried to take it all in. Group after group of elementary school students bustled in with notebooks in one hand, folding stools in the other. They plopped down in front of the enormous image and listened while the docents explained the painting and the magic of pointillism.
I wanted to take a photograph. Chuck found a guard and inquired if non-flash photography was allowed. “Yes”, she replied. I took some photographs. We sat down again; still feeling overwhelmed. The guard looked at us quizzically and we felt compelled to quietly explain how we came to be there. Families walked in and out; individual visitors, many wearing the now common headphones playing the audio tours, stopped, looked and moved on. Most everyone seemed interested. No one seemed quite as taken as we were. But then, very few of them had been looking forward to that moment for such a long time.
Back in the late 80s, right around the falling in love stage, we began thinking about visiting Seurat’s original painting. We even looked into a weekend plane trip from Massachusetts to Chicago, where the painting resides in a museum. But the cost of such a trip was prohibitive. When we drove across the country from Seattle to the east coast back in 1998, we were pushing to make a deadline. We were very disappointed to find ourselves traveling through Chicago around midnight.
So when the Amtrak adventure began to take shape we realized this might be our best chance. The only potential glitch was the timing. Because the railroad tracks are owned mostly by freight companies, Amtrak passenger trains often have to wait their turn to let long freights have priority. That can mean significant delays. We were lucky. “The Lake Shore Limited” arrived in Chicago on time, leaving us with nearly a four hour layover. We stashed our carry-on luggage in a locker at Union Station and hailed a taxi in the pouring rain.
Next stop: The Art Institute of Chicago.
We stepped out of the warm rain and into the cool serenity of the Art Institute. We paid our admission fee and asked for directions to the painting. In just a few moments we were in the gallery devoted to it and a few of Seurat’s other works. We were overcome. We had dreamed of this moment for almost a quarter century. We sat on a long wooden bench and tried to take it all in. Group after group of elementary school students bustled in with notebooks in one hand, folding stools in the other. They plopped down in front of the enormous image and listened while the docents explained the painting and the magic of pointillism.
I wanted to take a photograph. Chuck found a guard and inquired if non-flash photography was allowed. “Yes”, she replied. I took some photographs. We sat down again; still feeling overwhelmed. The guard looked at us quizzically and we felt compelled to quietly explain how we came to be there. Families walked in and out; individual visitors, many wearing the now common headphones playing the audio tours, stopped, looked and moved on. Most everyone seemed interested. No one seemed quite as taken as we were. But then, very few of them had been looking forward to that moment for such a long time.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
This & That Round-Up
: : She’s back and she’s still very funny - “earthy” this time, but very funny.
: : She flew practically from one pole to the other to meet Father Christmas in Rovaniemi, Lapland in Finland.
: : He has spent the last quarter century as a non-smoker. Coincidentally, so have I.
: : I wish I could turn back the clock so you all could go see what was, hands down, the best Revels ever.
: : Isabella weighs 7 lbs, 10.5 oz / 3.47 kgs and is just dandy!
: : This is the same way our relative met & married his new wife - minus the coverage in People Magazine and the chateau in Switzerland.
: : She flew practically from one pole to the other to meet Father Christmas in Rovaniemi, Lapland in Finland.
: : He has spent the last quarter century as a non-smoker. Coincidentally, so have I.
: : I wish I could turn back the clock so you all could go see what was, hands down, the best Revels ever.
: : Isabella weighs 7 lbs, 10.5 oz / 3.47 kgs and is just dandy!
: : This is the same way our relative met & married his new wife - minus the coverage in People Magazine and the chateau in Switzerland.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Drowsy...
We’re just home from seeing “The Drowsy Chaperone” at the Ogunquit Playhouse up in Maine. Carson Kressley was terrific. As was a member of our extended family! But we are, well, drowsy.
Night all...
Night all...
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Question
How long after a musical is born does one have to wait for an Original Cast Recording to come out as a CD?
I would like an O.C.R. of “Johnny Baseball” A.S.A.P.!
I can see it in my mind. I can remember snatches of dialogue and lyrics. But I am unable to hum, whistle or sing any songs from the show.
This must be rectified!
I would like an O.C.R. of “Johnny Baseball” A.S.A.P.!
I can see it in my mind. I can remember snatches of dialogue and lyrics. But I am unable to hum, whistle or sing any songs from the show.
This must be rectified!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Johnny Baseball
Yes, I am a fan of the Boston Red Sox, but you don’t need to be one in order to love “Johnny Baseball”. All you need is a heart.
Tonight, Chuck and I attended the fourth night of the world premiere of this musical at the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge. It was terrific! It tells the tale of the Boston Red Sox from 1900 right up until they miraculously turned the corner in Game Four of the 2004 American League Championship Series.
The creative team of Robert Reale, Willie Reale and Richard Dresser (originally from Holden!), with the able direction of Diane Paulus, manage to compress a century of baseball, culture and racism into the story of two fictional characters: Johnny O’Brien, the outstanding Red Sox pitcher who, so humbly embodies the sport, he becomes known as Johnny Baseball and Daisy Wyatt the African American blues singer who captures his heart. Over the course of two fast paced hours we come to understand the real reason for the curse which kept the Red Sox from winning a World Series for 86 impossibly long years. And we face head on the bigotry which led to the Red Sox being the last baseball team to integrate with the hiring of Pumpsie Green in 1959 - twelve years after Jackie Robinson broke that barrier in 1947.
“Johnny Baseball” is creatively but lightly staged to perfection. Little more than a set of bleachers, the Fenway Park sign, the Green Monster and a few tables and chairs frame each scene. (The stagehands deserve kudos for their seamless and unobtrusive work.) The lighting, coupled with the thrust configuration of the Loeb Drama Center created focus and intimacy with the cast. Nearly all of the members of the ensemble play multiple roles. Happily, the cast is filled with powerful, lovely voices. Despite perhaps three brief microphone glitches, the sound was solid tonight, with the music and voices complementing each other; never competing. Costuming was detailed and evocative of each era represented and added to the ease of transitions as the storyline progresses through the decades, with repeated cuts back to the pivotal Game Four in 2004. Yes, there is a touch of “Field of Dreams” and “The Natural” in “Johnny Baseball”, but the show is unique. (Oh how I want to tell the entire story in detail, but I don’t wish to ruin any plot twists and surprises!)
From the moment you arrive and staff in Red Sox jerseys take your tickets, while another “hawks” the program; to the sausage cart on the patio at intermission, the A.R.T., under the blessedly accessible artistic direction of Diane Paulus, echoes the atmosphere and excitement of Fenway Park. After the opening number “86 Years” I found myself smiling and thinking: “The trip was worth it just for this number.” But “Johnny Baseball” held and even raised the bar through both acts. By the time the full company sang the final number “The Game of Baseball” I was in tears.
The entire cast is to be commended for their talent, clarity and passion:
Colin Donnell
Stepanie Umoh
Charl Brown
Burke Moses
Jeff Brooks
Robert McClure
Joe Cassidy
Alan H. Green
Carly Jibson
Kaitlyn Davidson
Kirsten Wyatt
Paula Leggett Chase
Charles Turner
Erik March
They deserved the standing ovation we gave them. They also deserved a full house!
“Johnny Baseball” is playing at the A.R.T. through June 27, 2010. Treat yourself and get tickets now!
P.S. Our beloved Boston and Southern New England accent is so often played too broadly or just plain mangled in television shows and movies, that Dialect Coach Nancy Houfek deserves three cheers for helping the performers get it right!
Tonight, Chuck and I attended the fourth night of the world premiere of this musical at the American Repertory Theater in Cambridge. It was terrific! It tells the tale of the Boston Red Sox from 1900 right up until they miraculously turned the corner in Game Four of the 2004 American League Championship Series.
The creative team of Robert Reale, Willie Reale and Richard Dresser (originally from Holden!), with the able direction of Diane Paulus, manage to compress a century of baseball, culture and racism into the story of two fictional characters: Johnny O’Brien, the outstanding Red Sox pitcher who, so humbly embodies the sport, he becomes known as Johnny Baseball and Daisy Wyatt the African American blues singer who captures his heart. Over the course of two fast paced hours we come to understand the real reason for the curse which kept the Red Sox from winning a World Series for 86 impossibly long years. And we face head on the bigotry which led to the Red Sox being the last baseball team to integrate with the hiring of Pumpsie Green in 1959 - twelve years after Jackie Robinson broke that barrier in 1947.
“Johnny Baseball” is creatively but lightly staged to perfection. Little more than a set of bleachers, the Fenway Park sign, the Green Monster and a few tables and chairs frame each scene. (The stagehands deserve kudos for their seamless and unobtrusive work.) The lighting, coupled with the thrust configuration of the Loeb Drama Center created focus and intimacy with the cast. Nearly all of the members of the ensemble play multiple roles. Happily, the cast is filled with powerful, lovely voices. Despite perhaps three brief microphone glitches, the sound was solid tonight, with the music and voices complementing each other; never competing. Costuming was detailed and evocative of each era represented and added to the ease of transitions as the storyline progresses through the decades, with repeated cuts back to the pivotal Game Four in 2004. Yes, there is a touch of “Field of Dreams” and “The Natural” in “Johnny Baseball”, but the show is unique. (Oh how I want to tell the entire story in detail, but I don’t wish to ruin any plot twists and surprises!)
From the moment you arrive and staff in Red Sox jerseys take your tickets, while another “hawks” the program; to the sausage cart on the patio at intermission, the A.R.T., under the blessedly accessible artistic direction of Diane Paulus, echoes the atmosphere and excitement of Fenway Park. After the opening number “86 Years” I found myself smiling and thinking: “The trip was worth it just for this number.” But “Johnny Baseball” held and even raised the bar through both acts. By the time the full company sang the final number “The Game of Baseball” I was in tears.
The entire cast is to be commended for their talent, clarity and passion:
Colin Donnell
Stepanie Umoh
Charl Brown
Burke Moses
Jeff Brooks
Robert McClure
Joe Cassidy
Alan H. Green
Carly Jibson
Kaitlyn Davidson
Kirsten Wyatt
Paula Leggett Chase
Charles Turner
Erik March
They deserved the standing ovation we gave them. They also deserved a full house!
“Johnny Baseball” is playing at the A.R.T. through June 27, 2010. Treat yourself and get tickets now!
P.S. Our beloved Boston and Southern New England accent is so often played too broadly or just plain mangled in television shows and movies, that Dialect Coach Nancy Houfek deserves three cheers for helping the performers get it right!
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Step By Step
The taxes are done and have been submitted electronically!
Checks (yes, plural) go to the Post Office tomorrow morning.
I guess it doesn’t matter if you fall down just before the finish line and crawl over it or if you fall down just after you cross the finish line. Either way, you’re finished - er... - the task is finished!
10 points to anyone who correctly names the obscure musical reference in this post!
: : Ooops! & a Correction: Chuck and I are both embarrassed. The title of the post should have been “Bit By Bit” not “Step By Step”. Morgan mentioned taxes and violets in her comment. I knew taxes weren’t mentioned in the song. But I wanted to be 100% certain about the violets. So I pulled up our iTunes and hit play. 7 minutes and 18 seconds later we picked our jaws up off the floor! I guess it’s just proof we were both crispy last night!
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Memories & Farewell
It was back in January of 1989. I had flown out to see my sister Karen and her family in California. Our Mom was visiting at the same time. One evening, Karen arranged for all of us to go and watch a taping of the television situation comedy “Designing Women”. It was fascinating to see what goes on between takes and behind the camera. Even though the show broadcast as just a half hour, it took many hours to record. As the evening wore on, some audience members left and some of the seats around us became vacant. That was when Hal Holbrook sat down right next to me. He was married to the star of “Designing Women”, Dixie Carter. I could barely breathe. I was so excited. I stayed calm and cool and managed to exchange some pleasantries with him in between takes. No, I didn’t ask him for his autograph. I was being cool remember? At one point Dixie came up to where Hal was seated. They smiled and chatted. It struck me during that brief exchange that they were completely enchanted with each other. From start to finish it was an exciting and memorable evening.
Tonight I learned that Dixie Carter passed away earlier today. She was just 70 years old. Hal is 85. This May they would have celebrated their 26th wedding anniversary. May Dixie rest in peace. May Hal and their family find comfort and peace.
Tonight I learned that Dixie Carter passed away earlier today. She was just 70 years old. Hal is 85. This May they would have celebrated their 26th wedding anniversary. May Dixie rest in peace. May Hal and their family find comfort and peace.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Look Ma - No Hands!
My Mom doesn’t have a computer, nor does she want one. When I started this blog three plus years ago, it was a little difficult for her to wrap her mind around the concept. Heck, it was a little hard for me to explain in the beginning! She finally settled on the notion that it’s like a diary and my readers and fellow bloggers are like pen pals. Not bad! And she has picked up enough computer lingo and information to advise her friend on how to begin researching a medical condition: “Just go to that Google place and type it in!” Two thumbs up Mom.
Today we went to Rhode Island to visit with Mom, have lunch together and run some errands. (Mom stopped driving back in August.) I decided to bring along a copy of last week’s Worcester Magazine. I wanted her to see where an excerpt from Pink Granite had been published in lovely, tangible, non-digital newsprint and ink in their Blog Log column. I showed her. She read it. And she seemed decidedly underwhelmed. Ummm... Mom? Something I wrote is in black and white in a genuine, honest to goodness newspaper! This is the moment when you’re supposed to clip it out, stick it on the refrigerator and leave it until the edges curl and it yellows - aren’t you?
To be fair, Mom was ridiculously proud when my poem was published. And she often leaves my greeting cards up well past their expiration dates as if they were on loan from the Louvre. Actually, she liked an abstract mother and child print I made so much, she framed it. So it’s not like I’m lacking in appreciation from the woman. I guess I thought she would naturally feel the same dizzying rush of excitement I felt when Chuck brought our copy of WoMag home. It’s good fun to write and post here on Pink Granite. It’s great when SiteMeter shows visitors popping in from all over the world. And it’s absolutely fabulous when readers become regular readers and commenters. Nothing can beat that community and friendship. But holding WoMag and seeing Pink Granite in Blog Log, I have to admit, I did a little happy dance.
So, in the spirit of fellow Rhode Islander George M. Cohan, may I say to Worcester Magazine and Pink Granite’s readers and yeasty commenters:
"My mother thanks you, my father thanks you, my sister thanks you and I thank you."
And thank you Mom - without you (and Dad) I wouldn’t be here doing my little happy dance...
Today we went to Rhode Island to visit with Mom, have lunch together and run some errands. (Mom stopped driving back in August.) I decided to bring along a copy of last week’s Worcester Magazine. I wanted her to see where an excerpt from Pink Granite had been published in lovely, tangible, non-digital newsprint and ink in their Blog Log column. I showed her. She read it. And she seemed decidedly underwhelmed. Ummm... Mom? Something I wrote is in black and white in a genuine, honest to goodness newspaper! This is the moment when you’re supposed to clip it out, stick it on the refrigerator and leave it until the edges curl and it yellows - aren’t you?
To be fair, Mom was ridiculously proud when my poem was published. And she often leaves my greeting cards up well past their expiration dates as if they were on loan from the Louvre. Actually, she liked an abstract mother and child print I made so much, she framed it. So it’s not like I’m lacking in appreciation from the woman. I guess I thought she would naturally feel the same dizzying rush of excitement I felt when Chuck brought our copy of WoMag home. It’s good fun to write and post here on Pink Granite. It’s great when SiteMeter shows visitors popping in from all over the world. And it’s absolutely fabulous when readers become regular readers and commenters. Nothing can beat that community and friendship. But holding WoMag and seeing Pink Granite in Blog Log, I have to admit, I did a little happy dance.
So, in the spirit of fellow Rhode Islander George M. Cohan, may I say to Worcester Magazine and Pink Granite’s readers and yeasty commenters:
"My mother thanks you, my father thanks you, my sister thanks you and I thank you."
And thank you Mom - without you (and Dad) I wouldn’t be here doing my little happy dance...
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
A Holiday Tradition
We attended Christmas Revels this afternoon at Harvard’s Sanders Theater in Memorial Hall in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I can’t say it was wonderful, but it was good enough that I’m glad we didn’t miss it. David Coffin was terrific as usual. And Leon Joseph Littlebird and Janice Allen both gave standout performances. Chuck enjoyed it more than I did. But the final number at the end of Part One; “The Lord Of The Dance”, was as exciting and celebratory as ever. So all in all, it was all good.
After the show, we went over to Asmara restaurant on Massachusetts Avenue, also in Cambridge. They continue to serve delicious Ethiopian and Eritrean food. The atmosphere is cozy, the service excellent and the family is always warm and friendly. Over the years we’ve eaten at four (at least) different Ethiopian restaurants in Greater Boston, but Asmara is the only one we keep coming back to. Tonight, the Boneless Chicken in a red pepper sauce was out of this world. Oh, how I wish we lived closer!
After the show, we went over to Asmara restaurant on Massachusetts Avenue, also in Cambridge. They continue to serve delicious Ethiopian and Eritrean food. The atmosphere is cozy, the service excellent and the family is always warm and friendly. Over the years we’ve eaten at four (at least) different Ethiopian restaurants in Greater Boston, but Asmara is the only one we keep coming back to. Tonight, the Boneless Chicken in a red pepper sauce was out of this world. Oh, how I wish we lived closer!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
It Should Have Been SRO
Tonight Chuck and I went to see Pilobolus in Worcester. I wish I could tell you they will be in town for a week or two so you could rush out and secure tickets, but unfortunately it was just the single performance. The Pilobolus * Dance Theatre began at Dartmouth College in 1971. They have been dazzling audiences ever since. Tonight’s performance was at the recently reborn Hanover Theatre. The five dances the company of seven performed tonight were first conceived in five different years, ranging from 1971 to 2008. Each one was separate and distinct and each one immediately drew you in.
The Pilobolus dancers were stunningly sensual, while never overtly sexual. No gaunt, fragile waifs, they were staggeringly athletic with strong, beautiful bodies. They clearly know and understand every muscle within their corporeal instruments and seem to push them to both a physical and artistic limit. I am not a dance enthusiast or devotee. One need not be so in order to appreciate the instantly accessible dances, many open to multiple interpretations. The feelings evoked ranged from whimsical and witty to meditative and solemn all the way to figuratively electrifying with tonight’s finale piece “Megawatt” (2004).
The five men and two women dancers move individually, in pairs, triads, quartets and en masse. Sometimes they appear to be one form, tumbling as if a multi-bodied human wheel. At other moments, two dancers become the axle for the third dancer between them to glide and walk in midair. Frequently performing in a pair of triads consisting of one woman and two men each, the movements of each trio were sometimes identical, but more often complementary. The movements of one triad might be several beats behind the first group, which came to feel like echoes or reflections and afforded the opportunity to absorb the powerful performances. The few times the dancers were deliberately synchronized were jaw dropping. How could they possibly move in such unusual and taxing ways simultaneously? In the contemporary vernacular of popular culture, it would be easy to compare Pilobolus to the Transformers, but without the CGI effects!
The pacing of the show was unusual and very satisfying. The curtain fell after each dance and the house lights were brought up. A few moments later the lights dimmed once again and the curtain rose on the next piece - a sort of visual and emotional palate cleanser, if you will. The choreography was sensational. Clearly the dancers rehearse such that every move is second nature, yet it constantly felt intuitive, creative and spontaneous. The costuming was light, in that it was delicate and unintrusive. The lighting was simple, yet effective and the dancers sometimes danced in the shadows or darker sections of the stage, again reminding me of echoes and providing depth, with just a hint of wistfulness that we might be “missing” something! My only minor complaint was with the sound. The music itself for the four accompanied dances was great. But the sound system of the theater, or perhaps that of the dance company, had a slight and occasional tinniness or buzz to it.
As the title of this post indicates, The Hanover Theatre was not standing room only tonight. It should have been. Both Pilobolus and the theater itself deserved a full house. The Hanover is perfectly sized and the 1904 building has been exquisitely restored to its glorious historical reincarnation of 1925 . The staff and volunteers are all welcoming, cheerful and obviously enthusiastic supporters of the venue. We were seated in the center orchestra section on the aisle. The seats were comfortable, there was generous (and much appreciated) legroom and the rake of the hall allowed for unobstructed views of the stage. We toured the lower balcony level at intermission and in between admiring the elaborate plaster, gilded and wrought iron decorations, enjoyed the view from the loge and boxes. Parking, at $10.00, was easy in the Federal Square garage across the street. And having Worcester’s finest managing the crosswalks and traffic on Main and Southbridge Streets allowed arrival and departure to go smoothly, even graciously.
The audience tonight consisted of all ages from perhaps nine to nineties. Dress ranged from men in jackets and ties and women in dresses and evening accessories to folks in casual everyday jeans and sweaters. The Hanover may have been at well less than capacity, but we raised the roof as we leapt to our feet, offered sustained applause, loud whoops and Bravo’s, when the dancers joined hands for their final bow!
* While in performance the Pilobolus dancers were sufficiently clothed; they are less so on the website. Nothing indelicate, but I have been advised the site may be NSFW (Not Safe For Work)!
The Pilobolus dancers were stunningly sensual, while never overtly sexual. No gaunt, fragile waifs, they were staggeringly athletic with strong, beautiful bodies. They clearly know and understand every muscle within their corporeal instruments and seem to push them to both a physical and artistic limit. I am not a dance enthusiast or devotee. One need not be so in order to appreciate the instantly accessible dances, many open to multiple interpretations. The feelings evoked ranged from whimsical and witty to meditative and solemn all the way to figuratively electrifying with tonight’s finale piece “Megawatt” (2004).
The five men and two women dancers move individually, in pairs, triads, quartets and en masse. Sometimes they appear to be one form, tumbling as if a multi-bodied human wheel. At other moments, two dancers become the axle for the third dancer between them to glide and walk in midair. Frequently performing in a pair of triads consisting of one woman and two men each, the movements of each trio were sometimes identical, but more often complementary. The movements of one triad might be several beats behind the first group, which came to feel like echoes or reflections and afforded the opportunity to absorb the powerful performances. The few times the dancers were deliberately synchronized were jaw dropping. How could they possibly move in such unusual and taxing ways simultaneously? In the contemporary vernacular of popular culture, it would be easy to compare Pilobolus to the Transformers, but without the CGI effects!
The pacing of the show was unusual and very satisfying. The curtain fell after each dance and the house lights were brought up. A few moments later the lights dimmed once again and the curtain rose on the next piece - a sort of visual and emotional palate cleanser, if you will. The choreography was sensational. Clearly the dancers rehearse such that every move is second nature, yet it constantly felt intuitive, creative and spontaneous. The costuming was light, in that it was delicate and unintrusive. The lighting was simple, yet effective and the dancers sometimes danced in the shadows or darker sections of the stage, again reminding me of echoes and providing depth, with just a hint of wistfulness that we might be “missing” something! My only minor complaint was with the sound. The music itself for the four accompanied dances was great. But the sound system of the theater, or perhaps that of the dance company, had a slight and occasional tinniness or buzz to it.
As the title of this post indicates, The Hanover Theatre was not standing room only tonight. It should have been. Both Pilobolus and the theater itself deserved a full house. The Hanover is perfectly sized and the 1904 building has been exquisitely restored to its glorious historical reincarnation of 1925 . The staff and volunteers are all welcoming, cheerful and obviously enthusiastic supporters of the venue. We were seated in the center orchestra section on the aisle. The seats were comfortable, there was generous (and much appreciated) legroom and the rake of the hall allowed for unobstructed views of the stage. We toured the lower balcony level at intermission and in between admiring the elaborate plaster, gilded and wrought iron decorations, enjoyed the view from the loge and boxes. Parking, at $10.00, was easy in the Federal Square garage across the street. And having Worcester’s finest managing the crosswalks and traffic on Main and Southbridge Streets allowed arrival and departure to go smoothly, even graciously.
The audience tonight consisted of all ages from perhaps nine to nineties. Dress ranged from men in jackets and ties and women in dresses and evening accessories to folks in casual everyday jeans and sweaters. The Hanover may have been at well less than capacity, but we raised the roof as we leapt to our feet, offered sustained applause, loud whoops and Bravo’s, when the dancers joined hands for their final bow!
* While in performance the Pilobolus dancers were sufficiently clothed; they are less so on the website. Nothing indelicate, but I have been advised the site may be NSFW (Not Safe For Work)!
Monday, July 6, 2009
Pin-Ball-Post
My mosquito bites have blossomed (It usually takes 24 plus hours for the itching to become intense.), but I wouldn’t change a thing about Saturday’s festivities. Well, unless I could eliminate mosquitoes entirely - oh and ticks too! I’m sure some rational environmentalist could give me a solid argument for why we need mosquitoes and ticks, ecologically speaking that is. But I doubt I’d be dissuaded from my distaste for those particular creatures. Blech!
Speaking of Saturday, (even in this odd and roundabout way) we have a super sufficiency of Gazpacho around here. That’s a nice way of saying my Gazpacho was not as well received as my appetizers! The folks who liked it really liked it. Unless of course they work part time at the Trinity Repertory Theater... Do you know that being from Rhode Island where the letter “R” is somewhat elusive, I had to look up how to spell Repertory? I kept wanting to type something which sounded more like rep-uh-tory!
Where was I? Oh. Gazpacho. Well, I don’t want to talk about it any more. Let’s see, what else is new? We found the Daylilies. I can’t remember what varieties of Hemerocallis we’ve planted over the years, but the poor things were lost in the vast, green jungle of overgrowth which sprang up faster than Jack’s beanstalk during the monsoon season - A.K.A. June 2009. I got the scythe out - yes it was truly that bad - and cut my way back to the lovelies. I should have, but I didn’t take a photo of them. So I posted a photo of one of Carrie and Al’s from their backyard. Ours look just like theirs, only more maroonish.
I’m sorry this post is so disjointed. No I haven’t had an over abundance of caffeine. I think I watched Governor Sarah Palin’s (R-AK) resignation speech one too many times and her deer-in-the-headlights, frenzied feeling just rubbed off on me. Maybe I can douse myself with tomato juice the way you’re supposed to bathe your dog if it gets sprayed by a skunk.
Hey! Now I know what to do with all that freakin’ Gazpacho!
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
What We’ve Been Up To
We’ve been busy around here the last several days. Friday we headed north to the Peterborough Players Theatre up in New Hampshire to see Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town”. Chuck read a review in the Wall Street Journal, of all places, which prompted him to check on tickets. We were in luck. They had two seats on the aisle available. The 200 seat theatre in a converted barn is air conditioned, has comfortable seats, which most importantly are staggered and well raked. I doubt there is a bad seat in the house. The play was very well done. I have read “Our Town” several times and, as a student, played “Mrs. Webb”. The play is as important to me as the book “A Lantern In Her Hand”. They each deal with the sweet, simple details of living a life across the full range from birth to death and beyond.
Saturday, Sunday and today we continued the de-jungle-fication of our property. This intense push was prompted by our previous successes, our desire to continue to make improvements and the impending arrival of our roofer (Yay!) and a building wizard who will help even up our front porch (Yay!). So, we’re tired but happy and now have a huge truck parked snug up against the house to receive the old roof. We also have staging in place and all the roofing materials have been delivered. This summer’s rainy weather has been tough on our roofer’s schedule, but he’s confident he’ll have the worst of our five surfaces cleared and newly shingled, before the vestiges of Hurricane Hannah arrive this weekend.
Saturday, Sunday and today we continued the de-jungle-fication of our property. This intense push was prompted by our previous successes, our desire to continue to make improvements and the impending arrival of our roofer (Yay!) and a building wizard who will help even up our front porch (Yay!). So, we’re tired but happy and now have a huge truck parked snug up against the house to receive the old roof. We also have staging in place and all the roofing materials have been delivered. This summer’s rainy weather has been tough on our roofer’s schedule, but he’s confident he’ll have the worst of our five surfaces cleared and newly shingled, before the vestiges of Hurricane Hannah arrive this weekend.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Distant Revels & A Rare Bird
After digging out from Thursday’s snow storm, we attended Friday’s opening night of The Christmas Revels at Memorial Hall in Cambridge. An annual tradition for us, this was one of the least accessible, yet aurally and, to a lesser extent, visually interesting Christmas Revels we’ve attended. This year’s Revels revolves around the peoples and winter solstice traditions of the Balkans. The music was both haunting and stirring as it soared through mostly minor keys, in close harmonies. But both Chuck and I felt as if it was an unusually distant experience, partly due to the language barrier and partly because of the somewhat closed staging. The performers seemed to be facing in toward one another, rather than out toward the audience. Despite a few shortcomings, we enjoyed the whole of the experience, including Lord of the Dance.At the end of Revels we headed out onto the icy, slushy sidewalks of Cambridge and rushed over to Asmara for a late dinner of Ethiopian and Eritrean dishes. As always, everything was delicious. Stepping back out onto Mass Ave not long before midnight, unlike our little town, Cambridge was still bustling. We left Central Square and headed towards Harvard Square, enjoying all the city lights and holiday lights along the way. On our way out of town, we cut through some of the residential streets near Porter Square. We spotted the scene above and had to turn around and drive back. I quickly jumped out of the car and snapped a few photos of the animated pink flamingo! Not to slight the reindeer which was also animated, but he and his relatives are fairly easy to find in this area around the holidays. But a pink flamingo is a rare bird indeed in the winter months! Actually the plastic pink flamingo lawn ornaments were first created in 1957 in Leominster, Massachusetts. But this lighted, animated cousin appears to be a striking example of rapid evolution of the species!
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
We Just Said “No”
A few years ago, Chuck and I stopped exchanging Chanukah/Holiday/Christmas gifts with each other. We’ve known each other more than two decades and been celebrating holidays together nearly that long. We’ve navigated the challenges of our different religious upbringings and family traditions quite well. But it was the gift giving that never failed to give us fits.
We tried quantity - crazy. We tried just one gift each - Oy the pressure! We tried lists of suggestions - too much like grocery lists. We tried practical, frivolous and everything in between. At one point we realized that if we needed something during the year, we talked about it and we bought it. We liked the lack of pressure, the collaboration, the bargain hunting, the whole thing. Shopping for gifts for each other at the holidays seemed artificial and externally imposed. So we stopped.
I have to tell you it has been a relief. Neither of us has felt deprived. We still do whatever holiday traditions we want and enjoy. Like lighting the Chanukah candles all eight nights and singing songs together afterwards. Having our indoor/outdoor (now) LED tree on the porch. Going to Christmas Revels in Cambridge. And of course, celebrating Christmas Day with my family in Rhode Island - on whatever day we all agree to celebrate the holiday that year!
I hope your holiday season has just the right amount of peace and quiet; celebration and delight - however you choose to define it for you and yours!
We tried quantity - crazy. We tried just one gift each - Oy the pressure! We tried lists of suggestions - too much like grocery lists. We tried practical, frivolous and everything in between. At one point we realized that if we needed something during the year, we talked about it and we bought it. We liked the lack of pressure, the collaboration, the bargain hunting, the whole thing. Shopping for gifts for each other at the holidays seemed artificial and externally imposed. So we stopped.
I have to tell you it has been a relief. Neither of us has felt deprived. We still do whatever holiday traditions we want and enjoy. Like lighting the Chanukah candles all eight nights and singing songs together afterwards. Having our indoor/outdoor (now) LED tree on the porch. Going to Christmas Revels in Cambridge. And of course, celebrating Christmas Day with my family in Rhode Island - on whatever day we all agree to celebrate the holiday that year!
I hope your holiday season has just the right amount of peace and quiet; celebration and delight - however you choose to define it for you and yours!
Friday, November 30, 2007
Wicked Was Wicked Good!
Oh, I know that’s a lame title, but it is entirely accurate. We just returned home from the Bushnell Center in Hartford, Connecticut. We saw the touring company performance of Stephen Schwartz’ "Wicked" and it was marvelous!
A few weeks ago, Chuck and I went to see the revival and contemporary re-staging of Stephen Sondheim’s “Sweeney Todd” at the Colonial Theater in Boston, Massachusetts. It was dreadful; poorly miked, self conscious and, most improbably, lacking passion. I was so disappointed that I didn’t even bother to mention it here on my blog. So I admit to having a touch of trepidation that the touring company of “Wicked” couldn’t live up to the Original Broadway Cast Recording starring Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel. But Katie Rose Clarke as “Glinda” and Carmen Cusack as “Elphaba” easily gave those other Broadway gals a run for their money with their excellent voices! The rest of the cast was quite fine. The staging was very high calibre. The lighting and sound did exactly what they were supposed to do and did it well in the exceptionally long, exquisitely decorated, art deco Mortensen Hall.
“Wicked” is based on the 1995 novel of the same name by Gregory Maguire. It explores how the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda the Good came to be, before author L. Frank Baum, in 1900 and Hollywood, in 1939, brought them to life in the "Wizard of Oz". The dark themes of oppression and suppression of free speech and individual rights, resonate powerfully whether you look to today’s headlines or Europe in the 1930’s or any other moment in history when a few in power rule by whim and calumny. This tension is offset by the bright and witty lyrics of the lighter musical numbers, but never jarringly so.
After tonight’s finale, the audience at the Bushnell rose to their feet, cheering the cast at the curtain call and left the theater chatting brightly, humming and singing snatches from the score. That’s a collective review any cast member would be proud to lay claim to!
A few weeks ago, Chuck and I went to see the revival and contemporary re-staging of Stephen Sondheim’s “Sweeney Todd” at the Colonial Theater in Boston, Massachusetts. It was dreadful; poorly miked, self conscious and, most improbably, lacking passion. I was so disappointed that I didn’t even bother to mention it here on my blog. So I admit to having a touch of trepidation that the touring company of “Wicked” couldn’t live up to the Original Broadway Cast Recording starring Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel. But Katie Rose Clarke as “Glinda” and Carmen Cusack as “Elphaba” easily gave those other Broadway gals a run for their money with their excellent voices! The rest of the cast was quite fine. The staging was very high calibre. The lighting and sound did exactly what they were supposed to do and did it well in the exceptionally long, exquisitely decorated, art deco Mortensen Hall.
“Wicked” is based on the 1995 novel of the same name by Gregory Maguire. It explores how the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda the Good came to be, before author L. Frank Baum, in 1900 and Hollywood, in 1939, brought them to life in the "Wizard of Oz". The dark themes of oppression and suppression of free speech and individual rights, resonate powerfully whether you look to today’s headlines or Europe in the 1930’s or any other moment in history when a few in power rule by whim and calumny. This tension is offset by the bright and witty lyrics of the lighter musical numbers, but never jarringly so.
After tonight’s finale, the audience at the Bushnell rose to their feet, cheering the cast at the curtain call and left the theater chatting brightly, humming and singing snatches from the score. That’s a collective review any cast member would be proud to lay claim to!
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Revels 2006
The snow began early this morning. By late afternoon we had very little accumulation, just enough to cover everything lightly. Unfortunately the back roads became quite slippery. Driving the couple of miles to the center of town in the rented Malibu felt like more of adventure than I needed or wanted - especially because the accident happened a month ago today. It was also strange, after five years of relying on “all wheel drive”, to be in a “regular” vehicle. My anxiety level was no doubt extra high after a close call we had late last night. We were merging into traffic via an on ramp and had needed to slow to almost a full stop. Suddenly a car came up the ramp behind us, veered to the right, and nearly sideswiped our car as they passed us and raced directly into the highway traffic! I don’t know if they had been celebrating the new year too exuberantly, too early or if they were too young and inexperienced to feel the need for caution, but they left us shaken.The automotive scare notwithstanding, we enjoyed a wonderful evening together last night. We drove in to Harvard’s Memorial Hall, in Cambridge for The Christmas Revels. We attend almost every year and when we aren’t able to, we feel as if an important holiday ritual has been missed. This year’s theme was based in Germany and Switzerland. This production was not their absolute best, but was definitely near the top. As he has in recent years, David Coffin served as host, glue and choral director. At the end of the first act he led the audience from Sander’s Theater, out into the cathedralesque lobby of Memorial Hall while everyone danced to and sang “The Lord of the Dance”. Every year, huge numbers of audience members hold hands and weave in ever tightening concentric long ovals. As the lobby becomes almost too full for anyone to move, the song is sung for the last time. We all come to a stop, raise our hands to clap and cheer, as the final notes from the horns in the balcony drift down onto us. This year, Chuck and I were just a couple of people behind Coffin and therefore finished in the heart of the crowd! Despite such a spectacular end to the first act, the second managed to hold its own and was filled with singing by both the cast and the spectators. The final cry of “Welcome Yule” rattled the rafters with more than a thousand strong voices. There is always a spring in our steps as Revels ends and we spill out into the frigid winter air. Last night was no exception!
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