I get it. I totally get it. I also get why a lot of people hated the movie. They walked into thinking they were getting a romantic comedy; Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel, why wouldn't you think so? But truthfully, the movie is an honest dose of reality. Relationships are not perfect, people are different than who you think they are, and you can't plan everything.
It brings up a great point: expectation vs. reality. There's a split-scene part of the movie that plays these two universes simultaneously. Similarly, I imagine this to be the experience of the dissatisfied movie-goers, disappointed in the reality. But wake up, people. Life is not a Disney movie. Why must everything end with a "happily ever after?" It's just not the case. And I'm not saying it's always the case, I've certainly had my share of Disney-perfect moments, but we all run out of fairy dust after awhile and life picks up and moves on.
Thought: If you've been in a failed relationship, you get it. If you haven't you don't.
Now, failed is a harsh word. Sometimes they fail, sometimes they just expire or get lost. Would I say that my most recent relationship failed? Absolutely not. But I'm not married, so maybe by that standard it is. And what kind of standard is that? A pretty crap one if you ask me. But I won't get into the societal norms and what's expected... Ah, that word again.
*Spoiler Alert* Summer didn't exactly strike me as the marrying type. So that, obviously, came as a shock, but okay, I'll go with it. This point in the movie brings up a really interesting theme that I struggled with lately as well: treatment of the people you care about. She didn't tell him about the new guy and that it was a serious relationship. She was still flirty with him, and could you blame her, I mean look at the guy... Okay, that's the extent of my gushing on Joseph G-L.
But seriously, where do you draw the line? How are you supposed to treat a friend in that situation? How are you supposed to treat an ex? How much information do you share? How much do you let your feelings dictate and how much do you hold back in order to protect the other person? How much are you willing to hurt someone you care about in order to fulfill your own happiness? All of these questions have no one answer, there's no right way. To steal a phrase from a friend, up until this summer I was a serial monogamist. My relationships end approximately three months after they actually end, and that time just passed this round. My ex, who was also my best friend, and I struggled with all of these questions as we tried to balance each other and new people in our lives. He went about it one way, I another. Breaking off ties was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but afterward I felt nothing but relief. In the movie, she never broke off from him, she kept dragging him through the mud and simply because she enjoyed the friendship and selfishly hung onto it. But I can't argue! We need to be selfish sometimes, and one of the thing I loved most about Deschanel's character was her willingness and risk and ease to do whatever she wanted. It was when she was unhappy in the relationship that she lost sight of herself and her wants and needs. Hence, the break up. All understandable. And clearly, food for thought.
Sep 5, 2010
Jun 20, 2010
A Classic
Since I have a decent amount of free time on my hands this summer, having vowed to "take it easy," I promised myself I'd go back and read the good stuff: classic novels, favorite books, plays new and old. I started off this summer with an old favorite, from way back in Mrs. Adam's 8th grade English class. The only way I can justify blogging about non-theatre on this blog is to convince you just how theatrical it is. And... because it's my blog and I can do whatever I want, so neener neener neener. :)
Fahrenheit 451 is a classic, yes. I would also argue that it's theatrical and fairly metatheatrical as well. Montag repeatedly alludes to himself as an actor abandoning the play -- going off script, in other words, breaking out of this brainwashed facade. And although it's kind of a negative connotation, I can't help but agree that these living room wall t.v. screens, the "family," are nothing but scripted and planned dialogues in which one has absolutely no opportunity to genuinely contribute (unlike any good theatre! we contribute!) because the characters are soulless and situations meaningless.
Bradbury is a self-proclaimed lover of literature and has often written works inspired by and attributed to famous writers. Yet, still, this passage came as a pleasant surprise:
"For these were the hands that had acted on their own, no part of him, here was where the conscience first manifested itself to snatch books, dart off with Job and Ruth and Willie Shakespeare, and now, in the firehouse, these hands seemed gloved with blood." (105) Macbeth!!!
Years after it's original publication, Bradbury received some feedback on his Martian Chronicles. He got letters from readers who were demanding all sorts of rewrites in future publications; some felt that "the blacks in the book were Uncle Toms" and Bradbury should re-do the, a Southern white was offended because Bradbury was "prejudiced in favor of the blacks and the entire story should be dropped." (175) There were racial, social, religious concerns that each demanded attention and amendment.
In this 1979 Coda, in which the former passage is mentioned, Bradbury argues that even slight editing of a writer's work post-publication is just as bad as the act of burning books. He finds that people originally censor literature as a way to please the masses, as detailed above, each minority fashioning the work to suit their likeness. In Fahrenheit 451, Bradbury uses the Fire Captain Beatty to describe the beginning of book-burning history:
"You must understand that our civilization is so vast that we can't have our minorities upset and stirred. [...] Colored people don't like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don't feel good about Uncle Tom's Cabin. Burn it. Someone's written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book. Serenity, Montag. Peace, Montag. Take your fight outside. Better yet, into the incinerator." (59)
Well, not only do these minor adjustments alter the text and context of the work, it dramatically changes the author's intent. Sure, maybe Bradbury's references are a little outdated, maybe some of his science fiction novels he projected what we would call a narrow minded or even, yes, prejudiced view of certain things or people. But the carefully chosen words that ended up on the page are the only clue we have to discern this novel. For example, it was written in a racist time. I say, so what? People today are offended by something that was written "way back when?" If it was written today, then that's a different story. But if Bradbury's Martian Chronicles is prejudiced it is only telling of his society, of the society that produced a man that produced such work as this. If if we disagree, then it shows us just how far we've come, and maybe in that is the greatest significance and, even, appreciation.
And now, because I want to, some favorite quotes from this read through:
"Books were the only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us." (82-83)
"Oh, there are many actors alone who haven't acted Pirandello or Shaw or Shakespeare for years because their plays are too aware of the world." (87)
::: Where do plays fit in this world? Do they fall under the category of books? Do they still exist or does only Faber remember these playwrights?
"The books leapt and danced like roasted birds, their wings ablaze with red and yellow feathers." (117)
::: I loved this line because it reminded me of a phoenix, not remembering of course that Bradbury later uses the imagery of a phoenix to describe the ways of the survivors at the end of the novel. That they, unlike the phoenix, don't have to completely rebuild each time from scratch. That they remember what they've done in the past, can learn from their mistakes, and each generation pick up a few more people that, too, remember. (163)
"He felt as if he had left a stage behind and many actors. He felt as if he had left the great seance and all the murmuring ghosts. He was moving from an unreality that was frightening into a reality that was unreal because it was new." (140)
::: Of course I loved the theatre references, but I recently came off a production of Ibsen's Ghosts, so it was doubly significant!
"The sun burnt every day. It burnt Time. The world rushed in a circle and turned on its axis and time was busy burning the years and the people anyway, without any help from him. So if he burnt things with the firemen and the sun burnt Time, that meant that everything burnt! One of them had to stop burning." (141)
"'I am Plato's Republic. Like to read Marcus Aurelius? Mr. Simmons is Marcus.'
'How do you do?' said Mr. Simmons.
'Hello,' said Montag.
'I want you to meet Jonathan Swift, the author of that evil political book, Gulliver's Travels! And this other fellow is Charles Darwin, and this one is Schopenhauer, and this one is Einstein, and this one here at my elbow is Mr. Albert Schweitzer, a very kind philosopher indeed. Here we all are, Montag. Aristophanes and Mahatma Gandhi and Gautama Buddha and Confucius and Thomas Love Peacock and Thomas Jefferson and Mr. Lincoln, if you please. We are also Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.'
Everyone laughed quietly.
'It can't be,' said Montag.
'It is,' replied Granger, smiling. 'We're book burners, too.'" (151-152)
::: It must be internalized.
"The other men helped, and Montag helped, and there, in the wilderness, the men all moved their hands, putting out the fire together." (154)
::: Gah!
"Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands. He shaped the world. He did things to the world." (156)
I want to do things to the world.
Fahrenheit 451 is a classic, yes. I would also argue that it's theatrical and fairly metatheatrical as well. Montag repeatedly alludes to himself as an actor abandoning the play -- going off script, in other words, breaking out of this brainwashed facade. And although it's kind of a negative connotation, I can't help but agree that these living room wall t.v. screens, the "family," are nothing but scripted and planned dialogues in which one has absolutely no opportunity to genuinely contribute (unlike any good theatre! we contribute!) because the characters are soulless and situations meaningless.
Bradbury is a self-proclaimed lover of literature and has often written works inspired by and attributed to famous writers. Yet, still, this passage came as a pleasant surprise:
"For these were the hands that had acted on their own, no part of him, here was where the conscience first manifested itself to snatch books, dart off with Job and Ruth and Willie Shakespeare, and now, in the firehouse, these hands seemed gloved with blood." (105) Macbeth!!!
Years after it's original publication, Bradbury received some feedback on his Martian Chronicles. He got letters from readers who were demanding all sorts of rewrites in future publications; some felt that "the blacks in the book were Uncle Toms" and Bradbury should re-do the, a Southern white was offended because Bradbury was "prejudiced in favor of the blacks and the entire story should be dropped." (175) There were racial, social, religious concerns that each demanded attention and amendment.
In this 1979 Coda, in which the former passage is mentioned, Bradbury argues that even slight editing of a writer's work post-publication is just as bad as the act of burning books. He finds that people originally censor literature as a way to please the masses, as detailed above, each minority fashioning the work to suit their likeness. In Fahrenheit 451, Bradbury uses the Fire Captain Beatty to describe the beginning of book-burning history:
"You must understand that our civilization is so vast that we can't have our minorities upset and stirred. [...] Colored people don't like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don't feel good about Uncle Tom's Cabin. Burn it. Someone's written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book. Serenity, Montag. Peace, Montag. Take your fight outside. Better yet, into the incinerator." (59)
Well, not only do these minor adjustments alter the text and context of the work, it dramatically changes the author's intent. Sure, maybe Bradbury's references are a little outdated, maybe some of his science fiction novels he projected what we would call a narrow minded or even, yes, prejudiced view of certain things or people. But the carefully chosen words that ended up on the page are the only clue we have to discern this novel. For example, it was written in a racist time. I say, so what? People today are offended by something that was written "way back when?" If it was written today, then that's a different story. But if Bradbury's Martian Chronicles is prejudiced it is only telling of his society, of the society that produced a man that produced such work as this. If if we disagree, then it shows us just how far we've come, and maybe in that is the greatest significance and, even, appreciation.
And now, because I want to, some favorite quotes from this read through:
"Books were the only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us." (82-83)
"Oh, there are many actors alone who haven't acted Pirandello or Shaw or Shakespeare for years because their plays are too aware of the world." (87)
::: Where do plays fit in this world? Do they fall under the category of books? Do they still exist or does only Faber remember these playwrights?
"The books leapt and danced like roasted birds, their wings ablaze with red and yellow feathers." (117)
::: I loved this line because it reminded me of a phoenix, not remembering of course that Bradbury later uses the imagery of a phoenix to describe the ways of the survivors at the end of the novel. That they, unlike the phoenix, don't have to completely rebuild each time from scratch. That they remember what they've done in the past, can learn from their mistakes, and each generation pick up a few more people that, too, remember. (163)
"He felt as if he had left a stage behind and many actors. He felt as if he had left the great seance and all the murmuring ghosts. He was moving from an unreality that was frightening into a reality that was unreal because it was new." (140)
::: Of course I loved the theatre references, but I recently came off a production of Ibsen's Ghosts, so it was doubly significant!
"The sun burnt every day. It burnt Time. The world rushed in a circle and turned on its axis and time was busy burning the years and the people anyway, without any help from him. So if he burnt things with the firemen and the sun burnt Time, that meant that everything burnt! One of them had to stop burning." (141)
"'I am Plato's Republic. Like to read Marcus Aurelius? Mr. Simmons is Marcus.'
'How do you do?' said Mr. Simmons.
'Hello,' said Montag.
'I want you to meet Jonathan Swift, the author of that evil political book, Gulliver's Travels! And this other fellow is Charles Darwin, and this one is Schopenhauer, and this one is Einstein, and this one here at my elbow is Mr. Albert Schweitzer, a very kind philosopher indeed. Here we all are, Montag. Aristophanes and Mahatma Gandhi and Gautama Buddha and Confucius and Thomas Love Peacock and Thomas Jefferson and Mr. Lincoln, if you please. We are also Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.'
Everyone laughed quietly.
'It can't be,' said Montag.
'It is,' replied Granger, smiling. 'We're book burners, too.'" (151-152)
::: It must be internalized.
"The other men helped, and Montag helped, and there, in the wilderness, the men all moved their hands, putting out the fire together." (154)
::: Gah!
"Often I think what wonderful carvings never came to birth because he died. How many jokes are missing from the world, and how many homing pigeons untouched by his hands. He shaped the world. He did things to the world." (156)
I want to do things to the world.
May 19, 2010
Moscow
I saw an interesting show last night. The Diversionary Theatre, which specializes in providing theatre to the LGBT communities, produced the musical play Moscow. The marketing tagline is, "Trapped in limbo, three gay men stage a musical production of Chekhov's The Three Sisters. A compelling fusion of music, emotion, melancholy and lust." Most of the play certainly flew over the heads of those not familiar with Chekhov, but luckily most of the audience caught all the literary (and popular theatre culture) jokes. While it was clever, the playwright couldn't help but beat Chekhovian references to death, including the characterization of the three male actors portraying Olga, Masha, and Irina. I found that it was an interesting discussion of the text itself, asked important questions, for example "Does Masha walk into this relationship knowing there's no hope for it?" Questions that should be asked in rehearsals by both director and actor. Interesting questions. It definitely made me want to pick up Three Sisters and answer those questions. Answer them for now anyway; I feel like the answers to those types of questions are always changing, which keeps it interesting. We are still performing Chekhov and Shakespeare because the answers to those questions are always changing. Reevaluating, work that I love and hopefully most artists do, never lets the actor and director get lazy.
(*spoiler alert*)
I actually wanted to write about my response to the piece. Somewhere in the midst of Act II, I finally got caught up in the emotional struggle of the characters. The playwright clearly intended for each of the three gay men to take on characteristics of the sister they're paired to portray in their play within the play. Kevin Koppman-Gue plays the role of Luke who, trapped in the dark theatre of limbo, reluctantly portrays Irina. But while he furiously battles with the question of their mortality, he becomes increasingly restless in this post-apocalyptic nothingness, far surpassing Irina's desire to return to Moscow. Tirelessly searching for the meaning of his existence, he breaches sexual boundaries with his two fellow inmates arriving at no satisfactory end. And then I suddenly thought, "Oh my god, he's going to kill himself." I can still see it so vividly. He decides that there's nothing left. Of course. Then, having come to this realization, I thought, "Oh my god, I've felt that before. That exact thing Kevin's feeling right now, I've felt that." Not what Luke was feeling, what Kevin was feeling. And I had never felt that until I played Martha in The Children's Hour for a scene study in an Acting class. For me, this exact moment flashed me back to when Martha decides she's going to kill herself in The Children's Hour. However, two very different things happen. In Moscow, Luke grabs a lose rope, climbs up a ladder, and strings up a noose to hang himself. In Children's Hour, Martha, also at a complete loss, leaves the room. There is no stage direction, no indication of her resolution, she simply leaves the room. Offstage, she hangs herself. For me, there is something more satisfying about the latter. Maybe it's because she actually goes through with it? Maybe because we know there's no alternative for her? Luke still hasn't figured out whether he is in fact even alive, so maybe there's hope there. Of course, we never find out; how Chekhovian.
I think I meant to expand on this moment in Children's Hour, but now that I'm this far into the post, it seems like another story for another day. Maybe a good topic for the next post, if I'm good about continuing to post blogs! Fingers crossed...
(*spoiler alert*)
I actually wanted to write about my response to the piece. Somewhere in the midst of Act II, I finally got caught up in the emotional struggle of the characters. The playwright clearly intended for each of the three gay men to take on characteristics of the sister they're paired to portray in their play within the play. Kevin Koppman-Gue plays the role of Luke who, trapped in the dark theatre of limbo, reluctantly portrays Irina. But while he furiously battles with the question of their mortality, he becomes increasingly restless in this post-apocalyptic nothingness, far surpassing Irina's desire to return to Moscow. Tirelessly searching for the meaning of his existence, he breaches sexual boundaries with his two fellow inmates arriving at no satisfactory end. And then I suddenly thought, "Oh my god, he's going to kill himself." I can still see it so vividly. He decides that there's nothing left. Of course. Then, having come to this realization, I thought, "Oh my god, I've felt that before. That exact thing Kevin's feeling right now, I've felt that." Not what Luke was feeling, what Kevin was feeling. And I had never felt that until I played Martha in The Children's Hour for a scene study in an Acting class. For me, this exact moment flashed me back to when Martha decides she's going to kill herself in The Children's Hour. However, two very different things happen. In Moscow, Luke grabs a lose rope, climbs up a ladder, and strings up a noose to hang himself. In Children's Hour, Martha, also at a complete loss, leaves the room. There is no stage direction, no indication of her resolution, she simply leaves the room. Offstage, she hangs herself. For me, there is something more satisfying about the latter. Maybe it's because she actually goes through with it? Maybe because we know there's no alternative for her? Luke still hasn't figured out whether he is in fact even alive, so maybe there's hope there. Of course, we never find out; how Chekhovian.
I think I meant to expand on this moment in Children's Hour, but now that I'm this far into the post, it seems like another story for another day. Maybe a good topic for the next post, if I'm good about continuing to post blogs! Fingers crossed...
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