And the Music Was Ace!

Let's hear it for the boys — and the orchestra too — because both bring a vibrant and intriguing air to Tom Stoppard's provocative drama spectacular, Every Good Boy Deserves Favour, which recently finished its run at the National. Maintaining a delicate balancing act between frail enlightenment and overwhelming darkness is not the production's only feat — its flair for provoking bleak laughter while questioning society's beliefs about what is normal and the audience's perceptions of insanity and sanity makes the show truly impossible to ignore.

Set in Soviet Russia, the play follows political dissident Alexander Ivanov (played by Joseph Millson), who is imprisoned in a mental institution for voicing his beliefs. In a classic sardonic Stoppard twist, his cellmate shares Alexander's name, but not his belief that sane people are locked up in mental institutions. Rather, Ivanov (Toby Jones) stubbornly insists that he is the conductor of his own orchestra — fully deployed on-stage, but invisible and inaudible to every other character.

Not only do the musicians play André Previn's sweeping compositions masterfully, but they also interact with the cast — at one point thrusting themselves and their instruments headfirst into a surprisingly satisfying quasi-interpretive dance/fight sequence — and serve as a central symbolic character in this dark, vexing comedy. The orchestra's on-stage presence also adds an air of extravagant opulence that compliments the scenic and lighting design style flawlessly.

Even the title fits in with everything — ‘Every Good Boy Deserves Favour’ (or Fudge, as my 5th grade band director said) is a popular mnemonic device for remembering the notes that appear on the lines of the treble clef: E, G, B, D, F. But Stoppard’s cleverness doesn’t end there. When Alexander describes to us what happened to his other dissident friends, he names them after musical notes: A, B, C, D, E, F and G.

Millson's performance is truly one of the best I've seen so far in London. He makes evoking deeply unsettling thoughts and emotions seem effortless. Opposite his wide-eyed son Sacha (played by actress, yes actress, Bryony Hannah), Millson's Alexander is harsh and stern, but remains an inspiring character because of his firm assertions. At one point, the psychiatrist (also a member of the orchestra) explains to Alexander that he can be released if he admits that his beliefs are false.

Your opinions are your symptoms.
Your disease is dissent.

But Alexander refuses to yield to the powers-that-be. But while Millson's performance is profoundly weighty, Jones has no trouble providing a comic relief with his obscure, yet compelling wit. Oh, and did I mention he also happens to be another Harry Potter film alum? He voices Dobby in the series. I'm beginning to see a trend here: HP actors go straight back to their roots in the London theatre when they're not busy shooting the cult flicks.

Though I didn't leave the theatre humming Previn's melodies, they did strike an emotional chord (no pun intended) with me, as did Stoppard's message, despite it being masked beneath a thick layer of his disparaging, comic dialogue. Soviet Russia may be a faint memory of the past, but the themes still hold relevance in today's world. Many countries still cling to the theory of 'arrest now, ask questions later', imprisoning dissenters for expressing beliefs that are, for the moment, unpopular (at least among those in power).

It's a shame that the show isn't playing anymore (it closed Feb. 25) and that it will unlikely be performed anywhere else in the near future. The difficulty of finding, blocking and rehearsing a play with a full-sized orchestra is both a financial and logistical nightmare for most theatres to wrap their heads around. Nonetheless, the full-theatre experience was spectacular and unforgettable.

Catching Some Zeds

It's 1:30pm on a Friday and I just woke up (I know, I know, Dad, 'lazy bum', right?). But after a production week at Peace News, a grueling week of classes and homework and trying to finalize plans for Spring Break (more on that in a later entry), I've barely caught any zeds this week.

On top of all that, Brittany, Kara and I went to a concert on Monday, followed by a trip to a club. The concert, which featured newly signed artist Tallulah Rendall, was held in a small, artsy club. I'd never heard her music before, but she turned out to be pretty good. After that, we went to a dance club called Tiger Tiger (don't ask me, I can't make these names up) because it was student night. Great mix of music, cool atmosphere and lots of dancing — a great night overall (even though I had to get up early for class the next day).

I thought New York was the city that never slept, but London gives it a pretty good run for its money!

Not Too Parky!

Bitter cold temperatures, several feet of snow on the ground, school cancellations — these are the kinds of things that usually compose my winters (with the possible exception of the latter — my superintendent didn't believe in snow days). Between growing up in Rochester and going to school in Ithaca, I've seen some of the coldest and snowiest winters every year.

Until now. Over the past week or so, the temperature here in London has been at least 45-50 degrees Fahrenheit. I'm already busting out some of my spring clothes. The only snow we've seen was the "blizzard" a few weeks ago, and I'm starting to see why the Brits had a tough time coping with it.

Not that I'm complaining — trust me, it's a nice change of pace — it's just a little bizarre for me. I have to keep reminding myself that it's February. Horses for courses, I guess.

We Are QPR! We Are QPR!

Nearly six weeks after setting foot in London, I finally managed to do something I've been dying to do since I got here: attend a football match (that's soccer for my American readers). It was Queen Park Rangers, better known as QPR for obvious reasons, against Ipswich, nicknamed the Tractor Boys because the town of Ipswich is mostly rural. It wasn't a typical match either. It may not have been a Premier League game, but the outcome determined which team would advance to the premiership. Needless to say there was a full stadium and a lot at stake.

The game was pretty good. QPR scored within the first few minutes and Ipswich caught up to tie the game by the half. Even though the Rangers had a strong start, they lost it after that. QPR was plagued by a sloppy defense, haphazard passes that ended up in the wrong places and a few shoddy calls in the second half. The game was loud and fascinating to watch, but even more so were the fans. Supporters here are hard-core, like nothing I've seen regularly in the states. It starts with wearing team colors to the match and ends with intense shouting and cheering matches between fans.

Nothing got out of control, but swarms of coppers in orange vests were ready if anything did happen. It's not uncommon for fights to erupt between fans following intense football matches. We lucked out and things ended calmly, but there was a group of fans sitting in front of us we had a bit of fun silently teasing for their constant chants of 'We are QPR, We are QPR!'.

If you ever get the chance to visit the UK, Football is definitely a must-see. It's a huge part of the culture and loads of fun to watch.

I'm Absolutely Gobsmacked!

Land of the rising sun. Land where the old meets the new. Land with delicacies of raw fish and seaweed. Japan has given us many things, but unexpectedly dropped an intriguing new theatrical spectacular, 'Shun Kin', on London earlier this year that has played to packed audiences nearly every night. Based on Jun'ichiro Tanizaki's prolific novel, A Portrait of Shun Kin, the show is performed by experimental acting troupe Complicite and tells the story of the blind shamisen prodigy Shun Kin and her sadomasochistic relationship with her willing servant and lover Sasuke.

The story is bizarre and couldn't keep my attention for most of the production. Then again, it was two and a half hours long with no intermission, so the odds were against it. It also jumped around constantly and lacked any coherent line of thought. And, since my Japanese is a bit rusty, a good portion of my time was spent reading the English subtitles — poorly placed on the extreme left and right of the stage — while simultaneously trying watch what was happening on stage.

Only slightly more dizzying than trying to keep up with the dubious subtitles was the way the story was framed: on one side of the stage, a modern-day women sits in a recording studio dictating Tanizaki's tale for a radio show, as we watch Tanizaki investigate the stories he found in Sasuke's journal several years before, while the actual 1800s-era story of Sasuke and Shun Kin unfolds in front of our eyes. Confused? So was I. It does, however, amply demonstrate the concept of what the British call 'Chinese Whispers' or the way a story gets changed as is passes from one person to the next. What Americans would characterize as the 'Telephone game' concept I suppose.

Despite these setbacks, 'Shun Kin' shines as an intriguing and different type of production than London's West End is used to. The staging and theatrics of the production were masterfully and beautifully choreographed. Rarely have sex and violence been so unusually tame and graceful to watch. It's a far cry from the generally intense and gratuitous images we see in movies and television, and, though many critics disagree, I have to applaud Complicite's unique interpretation. Additionally, Shun Kin's transformation from puppet, (masterfully controlled by two on-stage assistants called Kurogo), to live actress harmoniously shadows her progression as a character.

And, in the true spirit of all things Japanese, the production blends the old traditions with the most modern trends. The show utilizes Kabuki and Noh theatre techniques, like the use of Kurogo, and cleverly shifting bamboo sticks to represent a series of different doors, passages and hallways, and blends them effortlessly with dazzling new theatrical technology, particularly through the use of projections to emphasize particularly beautiful or painful moments. Accompanying the entire production is a gorgeous set of melodies played on the shamisen, a three-stringed Japanese instrument similar to the banjo. Here's an example, courtesy of Youtube:



Definitely a show worth seeing — probably twice so you can ignore the subtitles and dull storyline the second time around and appreciate the beauty of choreography and truly stunning theatrical techniques.

Photo: Production still taken from the 'Time Out London' Website.

It's Been a Hard Day's Night

If you've ever seen my iTunes, you'll know I have a rather eclectic taste in music. Naturally this means I love the classics, so my play list would be incomplete without the Beatles. And even though I wasn't alive for Beatlemania, I've always been a big fan of the Fab Four and I jumped at the chance to visit their hometown of Liverpool this past weekend.

I woke up at an ungodly hour (here came the sun through my window at 6am, so I dragged myself out of bed. Give me a break — it's not like I'm used to getting up that early eight days a week). After sitting on a bus for about four hours, it was a good day, sunshine as we finally made it to the hostel. Bill took us on another one of his infamous walks before we went on the Magical Mystery Tour, which gave us a glimpse at a day in the life of the boys. We saw the birthplaces and homes of Ringo, George, John & Paul, the church where the group would come together, Penny Lane (the infamous long and winding road), Strawberry Fields (which went on forever), the cemetery where Eleanor Rigby was buried, the Hard Day's Night hotel (the only Beatles-themed hotel in the world) and even the Cavern Club (where the group played countless times). It was really interesting and we really lucked out with the weather too — it didn't rain at all!

When we got home to the hostel, we freshened up and took a quick power nap before heading out to Her Majesty's Philharmonic, a pub that the Beatles frequented. We had to wait for a table, but it was well worth it. I had trouble deciding on something, but I finally settled on a glass of white wine and the chicken and mushroom risotto, which was fantastic! Because we were only there one night and it's not like you get to go to Liverpool any time at all, we decided to head back to the Cavern Club for some drinks and dancing. We got a bit lost, but with a little help from our friends, we eventually found the club.

The night just kept getting better, as the music and atmosphere of the club didn't let me down. While we were listening to the band's guitars gently weep, we met some local Liverpudlians (seriously — that's what they're called!) and sang along to some classics like 'I am the Walrus', 'I Want to Hold Your Hand' 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds' and 'Hey Jude'. I'm a loser, so I knew every word to all the songs, but it was loads of fun. When he took a break, we kept chatting with the locals, but we needed help deciphering every little thing they said, as they had really thick accents. It wasn't long before the next band got up to play and with a devil in our hearts, we decided to act naturally and dance! We stayed for a while, but soon it was 1am and though it had only been a short while since we said 'Hello', goodbyes were in order. When we got home, we promptly crashed in our bunkbeds at the hostel. Not too much monkey business, but overall, we had fun and it was a good night.

Our alarms greeted us with a good morning, good morning around 7:30 and, after we fought for the shower (eight girls, one shower is a bad combination any way you slice it), we met Bill to walk to the Beatles Story museum. After a lengthy walk to the Albert Docks, we went inside and were each handed an audio set for a self-guided tour. There was a ton of memorabilia and some really interesting stories, including those of the two former Beatles: drummer Pete Best and bass player Stuart Sutcliffe. And do you want to know a secret? Even though I'm a big Beatles fan, I never knew about Sutcliffe before. The exhibit was complete with a huge yellow submarine, a life-size cut out of the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band cover and a tribute to Lennon: his picture and glasses on a white piano with the lyrics to 'Let it Be' written on the wall.


Afterwards, a group of us went exploring around Liverpool: the Albert Docks, back to the Cavern Club and Pub (we wanted to get some photos) and stopped at a great panini place for lunch (the name of it is on the tip of my tongue, but I can't think of it right now). By 3pm, we had reached the end of our time in Liverpool and hopped back on the bus for the journey home. I listened to the Beatles the whole way home and even watched 'Across the Universe' yesterday just for kicks. But after all that and writing this entry, I'm pretty much all Beatlemania-ed out. And I'm guessing you are too.*

Cheers,
Kathy


*If you're not all Beatle-ed out, see if you can find all the Beatles song titles in the entry. I had fun trying to fit in as many as I could. (Hint: there are 45 total)
**Photos in this entry:
Top: The infamous Strawberry Fields in Liverpool.
Middle: The Cavern Club, where the Beatles played countless times.
Bottom: From left to right, Sara, Celia, Me and Randi at Penny Lane.

A Load of Codswallop!

I added two more shows to my list this week: 'Private Lives' and 'Othello', and based on my two previous experiences with the London Theatre, I expected them to be quite good. As you might have guessed from the title of the entry, they were anything but.

I'll start with 'Private Lives', Noël Coward's tale of 1930s divorcees Elyot and Amanda, who meet on their subsequent honeymoons and whose fatal attraction drives them to run off with each other to France. Reading the plot to this play alone had me intrigued — it sounded like it had a lot of potential to be interesting, fun and quite comical. Unfortunately, the actors didn't seem to think so, and proceeded to over-act the entire show. Accompanied by clumsy and distracting underscoring, costumes that didn't fit the time period and sets that felt lack-luster for the glamorous upper-class lives the characters were supposed to be leading, it wasn't worth my time. I think if I had seen it on my own, I probably would have walked out at the interval (intermission to those of you state-side).

The other show I saw, 'Othello', wasn't on the bill for my drama class, but they had extra student tickets for only £10 and it's one of my favourite Shakespeare plays. Plus London is known for its fantastic productions of Shakespeare works (mainly Stratford, but still), so I thought there was no way I could go wrong. How wrong I was. After a long, crowded journey there on the tube/overground, we found our seats in the first balcony level towards house right. There were a few other Ithaca College students near us, but the group was pretty scattered throughout the theatre.

At the start of the production, the director came out to inform us that the role of Iago would be played by the understudy and, therefore, Cassio would also be played by an understudy. I was slightly bummed by the news, but decided to give the production a chance anyways. Starting off with underscoring that had touches of African drumming, Othello and Desdemona sang their first few lines beautifully, giving me the hope that the production would be much better than the show I saw earlier in the week.

But as the production continued, Patrice Naiambana (Othello) was all over the place — light and comical, then quickly depressed and right back to cheerful. Not the Othello I had found so fascinating when reading the original work. Natalie Tena (who many of my classmates recognized as Tonks from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix) as Desdemona was elegantly charming, but did not manage to evoke the depth of pity for which I'd packed the tissues. Understudy Alex Hassle was memorable in the role of Iago, but for all the wrong reasons. He was no more sinister or cunning than Spongebob Squarepants and managed to flub at least one line in practically every scene. I know he was the understudy, but it was unfortunately clear why. The benefit of him playing Iago was his understudy, Robert Vernon, really shined in the role of Cassio — I walked away with a whole new appreciation for that character.

But the production was still riddled with technical goofs — the flash on a camera didn't go off when it was supposed to, a piece of cloth hung for a scene was ripped in half by a cast member, and during the final scene, the candle was knocked over, which a spare cast member came on stage to pick up mid-scene. Between that and the pitiful performances, it was not the 'tragedy' I imagined I would see.

Hopefully this week should be better. Only one show on the bill: Shun Kin, which is based on several Japanese short stories. I don't know how the rest of my classmates will enjoy the performance, but I'm particularly intrigued already, mostly because of my trip to Japan a few years ago. It'll be interesting to compare the two.

It's getting late and, even though I'd like to write about my weekend in Liverpool, I really should get to bed. You'll have to wait until tomorrow!

Cheers,
Kathy

PHOTOS (from top to bottom):
'Private Lives' production still, taken from The Evening Standard's Website
'Othello' production still, taken from the RSC's Website