lie down next to you
Oh. My. God.
I cannot believe how much I enjoyed that!
Just saw Salome with, you guessed it, sheba_finesse who I could quite easily call My PlayMate but shan't for all sorts of reasons, not the least of which being how much I loathe Hugh Hefner.
*cough*
Anyway.
I was dreading it. Really and truly. Cos first I read the Wilde play to refresh my memory and groaned a lot inside at the tedious repetition, completely unable --- as I posted --- to tell whether he was taking the piss or just being bad. The thought of having to endure that on stage threatened to make me ill.
Then I read an article with the co-directors of the production company, The Rabble, being Syd Brisbane, Emma Valente and Kate Davis. I knew I should have bookmarked the bastard cos I can't find it now. But it made me extremely nervous cos they talked about how it wouldn't be a conventional narrative. Talk about clanging alarm bells. I tend to put my hand over my eyes and whimper when theatre people say things like that. Cos damnit, I do like my conventional narratives.
So all week I've been saying "okay, it's either going to be brilliant or it's going to be crap" and then quailing in my scuffed and still holey boots.
Miss Sheba and I got there nice and early cos we hadn't been to the Carriageworks before so had left extra time for the getting lost bit. But was okay cos we kinda instantly fell in love with the space itself and Miss Sheba got excited about the interactive exhibition showing. Damned marvellous space, the Carriageworks, and I particularly love the sense of new creativity with so many productions and exhibitions going on at the same time. Personally, I was just flabbergasted at how close it is to Newtown. Here I thought it was out the back of beyond but not so!
So we wandered and talked and almost made a new friend with the loveliest purple dreadlocks and braids who told us about Corvus, the first production by The Rabble. And I started dreading the play all over again when the usher lady told us it would be an eighty-five minute production with no interval and strict lock-out so better go to the loo beforehand. While Miss Sheba did just that, I read through the pamphlet, had a silent hysterical laughing fit at Set Construction/Mechanist, and worried a lot. Cos "jesus fucking christ, what if I hate it and want to leave but can't and on top of it all, want to go to the loo desperately and can't?!"
The theatrical space itself was intimidating. I felt like I was back in high school, sitting up in the bleachers looking at the assembly hall or something. And yeah, totally intimidated on the actors' behalf cos that looked like a fuckload of space to cover. The pool at one end, the cubicle on the other, the tables at another, and sooo much lino in between.
When it began and the huge black doors at the back slid open to light, I flashed instantly back to The Serpent's Teeth. But oooh it was sooo lovely and creepy with Mary Helen Sassman in her white wedding gown and her unearthly glowing blonde hair, wrapped around with the electric cord and dragging what I knew would be an esky behind her. She entered singing wordlessly which I resisted for about two seconds and then was converted by the whole eerie lovely aspect of the harmonies and such a wonderful entrance.
It took me about five or ten minutes to realise there would be no dialogue. And this is when the entire experience flowered open for me. Talk about being filled with sheer relief, joy and exhilaration, that "omigod, I don't have to focus on words, on how they're constructed and what they mean." It was so liberating! I spared half a thought for how much wordiness I have encountered on stage lately and then focused.
Absolutely marvellous. I haven't enjoyed myself so much in a while. It really did feel like I was using another part of my brain, absorbing the visuals and intuiting meaning rather than plodding from plot point to plot point and wringing every bit of language for information, using my eyes far more than my ears. This was challenging but enthralling and I really couldn't believe how much it was working for me.
No, I tell a half lie. I was quite grateful for having read the play and knowing the events. Sure, you know the bare specifics --- Salome wants John, John rejects Salome, Salome gets John's head. But what I didn't know or hadn't remembered was Herod's desire for Salome and the page being in love with Salome and the viciousness of Herodias.
And knowing the structure made it all the more intriguing when they clearly departed and reinvented the plot. I got a little lost towards the middle with the strangling of the page but told myself maybe that was the first page dying and that it prolly didn't matter all that much if I didn't understand every single iota.
What made me convulse with pure glee was seeing John almost convert Herod and be rejected. Actually that was a curious moment cos I totally heard Daniel Schlusser who played Herod say "Fuck off, Pier" before getting up and walking away. Pier being the actor playing John. I laughed and then had a moment of "Waitaminit, that was part of the play, wasn't it? A little sarcastic moment. No, yes, of course it was. Huh."
There was another marvellous little moment of theatrical dissonance played for humour when the spotlight came on and they had to shuffle sideways into it as a family portrait. I did snigger, yes. And argh, how fabulously the whole lack of dialogue was worked into the play as the inarticulate almost dehumanisation of this fucked up family. Have their voices dried out because of the drought? *sigh* So awesome.
I did so love the way Salome struggled to say something, looked at us with the perfectly portrayed awkwardness of a child caught in a spotlight on a school stage. Wicked little theatrical joke as well. It wasn't painful to witness, it was actually rather beautiful. I loved her the most at those moments. Which was a surprise in itself.
So it was doubly startling to suddenly have the contrast of her at the stand-up mike. But even then it was halting and ack, the so clever device of having her attempting to communicate her desire through the telling of jokes all featuring the word 'head'. Nggghhhh!
Even the dull moments were fascinating to me, a chance to just look and absorb the prettiness of the colours, the rich lurid red of the liquids in those glass utensils, the stark lights on her soft brutally blonde hair. The repetition I had feared was so pleasing, the way they used the sound of jogging feet to punctuate pace. The dancing just made me laugh cos it was such a great way to illustrate the ludicrous nature of a court gone mad.
The only thing I missed a little was the roaring eloquent element of John as the preaching Baptist. But there was no way they could do that in this production. So it was lovely to see him reinvented as this young passionate fellow fearful of his captors but full of unfettered joy, what you knew to be a divine joy. Him running all over the stage was at once a bloody excellent use of the space and also such a great character illustration. I just beamed at the poor bugger.
And ohhhhhhhhhhh to see him and Salome 'fall in love' was beautiful, it seemed like this strange moment of purity in the midst of so much insanity and all the more precious. I adored the way he lay on top of her, face up instead of face down, all the virginal innocence of him in that one baffling sweet movement. Even if I did wince on Mary Helen's behalf and wonder just how long ago she gave birth and how much skinny young Pier weighed.
Mind you, the moment she bit into his arm was the moment I went right back into the skin of her. Yes. YES! This is why Salome is so important. The monstrous female desire and how dare you reject me, how could you be so cruel, so weak to fear my desire? They played it perfect, how she bit in and he cried out with shock and fear and ran right back to his cage. Yep.
It was total wish fulfilment to see how they departed from the play and have an actual baptism. What if John really did baptise Salome? My fanfic heart was squeeing like mad. And god, that was gorgeous, how the pool was lit, how sharply he ducked her head three times. It was such a shock to see and you totally felt what a shock it must have been to her. Suddenly I realised just how bizarre a ritual that may have seemed to the people of the day, how close to murder it must seem. Rejected once more, Salome? Yeah, now the bastard's trying to drown me. Men!
To see her go murderous was awesome. Stripped of her wedding dress, her fluffed out blonde hair now wet and slicked back, just her with the ear muffs and the circular chainsaw. I did wonder how they would do the severed head, if they would at all or just cut to darkness and leave it to our imagination, maybe even end the play on that moment. But no, there was the clever distraction of the silver platter clattering to the floor in the diagonal opposite direction, and the esky again, her dragging it across the lino and right out the door we came in, and him slumped at the bottom of the glass cubicle daubed over with ketchup blood. Yes, there was laughter at the ketchup and I did grin. Oh self-referential theatre, you tread such a fine pretentious line.
The ending totally threw me. It was so completely at odds with the rest of the play in terms of tone and sound and visual, like the entire cast completely abandoned their characters and decided to have an impromptu singalong and is that lil baby Mary Helen's actual child? He was adorable and they were adorable with him and it took me five whole damned minutes to figure out a meaning. Cos yeah, John The Baptist was all about the coming messiah, wasn't he? D'uhhhhhhh, dri.
I still can't believe how much I loved it. The lighting, the colours, the riveting visual of an albino blonde in a white wedding dress that was filthy grey on the train from all the performances. Tiny little things like how she tried to strangle herself with her own veil in the background, how beautiful her bone structure was and yet how unnerving she could make her eyes.
The music was fascinating and perfect. Although I did tire a little of the moaning towards the end but I guess that was the point. That riff of a folk melody drove me mad because the words were on the tip of my tongue but I kept flashing back to Spike in the barn of crosses and argh, I don't think that's it.
I didn't love all the performances. Pretty much everyone except Salome and John irritated me at some point but it was easy enough to ignore them and focus on the people I wanted because everyone was always doing something at every single moment. Syd Brisbane has such a marvellous face, I'm sure I've seen him in something.
There are still a few things that are prodding my mind, like how the hell did she get the blood to turn into water but omigod who cares cos ack, Christ reversal, eeeek! It was enough that she was clearly the one to keep the court together, to offer a sort of sustenance when Herod couldn't do it himself. Fucking brilliant frustration of hunger and thirst and thwarted desire.
And I'm sure it means nothing at all that I came straight home and drank a whole bottle of water. I may do it again when I hit Post.
What topped the entire experience off was discovering that Miss Sheba sitting right next to me had the exact opposite reaction to the play. Again, I was astonished at my own delight. Talk about the starkest illustration of how one work of art can be two different things to two different people. Liek woah. Hee.
I wanted to buy a Rabble key cos they're a great size and so Susanna Clarke unusual with the bird in the loop but couldn't afford it. Next time.
I cannot believe how much I enjoyed that!
Just saw Salome with, you guessed it, sheba_finesse who I could quite easily call My PlayMate but shan't for all sorts of reasons, not the least of which being how much I loathe Hugh Hefner.
*cough*
Anyway.
I was dreading it. Really and truly. Cos first I read the Wilde play to refresh my memory and groaned a lot inside at the tedious repetition, completely unable --- as I posted --- to tell whether he was taking the piss or just being bad. The thought of having to endure that on stage threatened to make me ill.
Then I read an article with the co-directors of the production company, The Rabble, being Syd Brisbane, Emma Valente and Kate Davis. I knew I should have bookmarked the bastard cos I can't find it now. But it made me extremely nervous cos they talked about how it wouldn't be a conventional narrative. Talk about clanging alarm bells. I tend to put my hand over my eyes and whimper when theatre people say things like that. Cos damnit, I do like my conventional narratives.
So all week I've been saying "okay, it's either going to be brilliant or it's going to be crap" and then quailing in my scuffed and still holey boots.
Miss Sheba and I got there nice and early cos we hadn't been to the Carriageworks before so had left extra time for the getting lost bit. But was okay cos we kinda instantly fell in love with the space itself and Miss Sheba got excited about the interactive exhibition showing. Damned marvellous space, the Carriageworks, and I particularly love the sense of new creativity with so many productions and exhibitions going on at the same time. Personally, I was just flabbergasted at how close it is to Newtown. Here I thought it was out the back of beyond but not so!
So we wandered and talked and almost made a new friend with the loveliest purple dreadlocks and braids who told us about Corvus, the first production by The Rabble. And I started dreading the play all over again when the usher lady told us it would be an eighty-five minute production with no interval and strict lock-out so better go to the loo beforehand. While Miss Sheba did just that, I read through the pamphlet, had a silent hysterical laughing fit at Set Construction/Mechanist, and worried a lot. Cos "jesus fucking christ, what if I hate it and want to leave but can't and on top of it all, want to go to the loo desperately and can't?!"
The theatrical space itself was intimidating. I felt like I was back in high school, sitting up in the bleachers looking at the assembly hall or something. And yeah, totally intimidated on the actors' behalf cos that looked like a fuckload of space to cover. The pool at one end, the cubicle on the other, the tables at another, and sooo much lino in between.
When it began and the huge black doors at the back slid open to light, I flashed instantly back to The Serpent's Teeth. But oooh it was sooo lovely and creepy with Mary Helen Sassman in her white wedding gown and her unearthly glowing blonde hair, wrapped around with the electric cord and dragging what I knew would be an esky behind her. She entered singing wordlessly which I resisted for about two seconds and then was converted by the whole eerie lovely aspect of the harmonies and such a wonderful entrance.
It took me about five or ten minutes to realise there would be no dialogue. And this is when the entire experience flowered open for me. Talk about being filled with sheer relief, joy and exhilaration, that "omigod, I don't have to focus on words, on how they're constructed and what they mean." It was so liberating! I spared half a thought for how much wordiness I have encountered on stage lately and then focused.
Absolutely marvellous. I haven't enjoyed myself so much in a while. It really did feel like I was using another part of my brain, absorbing the visuals and intuiting meaning rather than plodding from plot point to plot point and wringing every bit of language for information, using my eyes far more than my ears. This was challenging but enthralling and I really couldn't believe how much it was working for me.
No, I tell a half lie. I was quite grateful for having read the play and knowing the events. Sure, you know the bare specifics --- Salome wants John, John rejects Salome, Salome gets John's head. But what I didn't know or hadn't remembered was Herod's desire for Salome and the page being in love with Salome and the viciousness of Herodias.
And knowing the structure made it all the more intriguing when they clearly departed and reinvented the plot. I got a little lost towards the middle with the strangling of the page but told myself maybe that was the first page dying and that it prolly didn't matter all that much if I didn't understand every single iota.
What made me convulse with pure glee was seeing John almost convert Herod and be rejected. Actually that was a curious moment cos I totally heard Daniel Schlusser who played Herod say "Fuck off, Pier" before getting up and walking away. Pier being the actor playing John. I laughed and then had a moment of "Waitaminit, that was part of the play, wasn't it? A little sarcastic moment. No, yes, of course it was. Huh."
There was another marvellous little moment of theatrical dissonance played for humour when the spotlight came on and they had to shuffle sideways into it as a family portrait. I did snigger, yes. And argh, how fabulously the whole lack of dialogue was worked into the play as the inarticulate almost dehumanisation of this fucked up family. Have their voices dried out because of the drought? *sigh* So awesome.
I did so love the way Salome struggled to say something, looked at us with the perfectly portrayed awkwardness of a child caught in a spotlight on a school stage. Wicked little theatrical joke as well. It wasn't painful to witness, it was actually rather beautiful. I loved her the most at those moments. Which was a surprise in itself.
So it was doubly startling to suddenly have the contrast of her at the stand-up mike. But even then it was halting and ack, the so clever device of having her attempting to communicate her desire through the telling of jokes all featuring the word 'head'. Nggghhhh!
Even the dull moments were fascinating to me, a chance to just look and absorb the prettiness of the colours, the rich lurid red of the liquids in those glass utensils, the stark lights on her soft brutally blonde hair. The repetition I had feared was so pleasing, the way they used the sound of jogging feet to punctuate pace. The dancing just made me laugh cos it was such a great way to illustrate the ludicrous nature of a court gone mad.
The only thing I missed a little was the roaring eloquent element of John as the preaching Baptist. But there was no way they could do that in this production. So it was lovely to see him reinvented as this young passionate fellow fearful of his captors but full of unfettered joy, what you knew to be a divine joy. Him running all over the stage was at once a bloody excellent use of the space and also such a great character illustration. I just beamed at the poor bugger.
And ohhhhhhhhhhh to see him and Salome 'fall in love' was beautiful, it seemed like this strange moment of purity in the midst of so much insanity and all the more precious. I adored the way he lay on top of her, face up instead of face down, all the virginal innocence of him in that one baffling sweet movement. Even if I did wince on Mary Helen's behalf and wonder just how long ago she gave birth and how much skinny young Pier weighed.
Mind you, the moment she bit into his arm was the moment I went right back into the skin of her. Yes. YES! This is why Salome is so important. The monstrous female desire and how dare you reject me, how could you be so cruel, so weak to fear my desire? They played it perfect, how she bit in and he cried out with shock and fear and ran right back to his cage. Yep.
It was total wish fulfilment to see how they departed from the play and have an actual baptism. What if John really did baptise Salome? My fanfic heart was squeeing like mad. And god, that was gorgeous, how the pool was lit, how sharply he ducked her head three times. It was such a shock to see and you totally felt what a shock it must have been to her. Suddenly I realised just how bizarre a ritual that may have seemed to the people of the day, how close to murder it must seem. Rejected once more, Salome? Yeah, now the bastard's trying to drown me. Men!
To see her go murderous was awesome. Stripped of her wedding dress, her fluffed out blonde hair now wet and slicked back, just her with the ear muffs and the circular chainsaw. I did wonder how they would do the severed head, if they would at all or just cut to darkness and leave it to our imagination, maybe even end the play on that moment. But no, there was the clever distraction of the silver platter clattering to the floor in the diagonal opposite direction, and the esky again, her dragging it across the lino and right out the door we came in, and him slumped at the bottom of the glass cubicle daubed over with ketchup blood. Yes, there was laughter at the ketchup and I did grin. Oh self-referential theatre, you tread such a fine pretentious line.
The ending totally threw me. It was so completely at odds with the rest of the play in terms of tone and sound and visual, like the entire cast completely abandoned their characters and decided to have an impromptu singalong and is that lil baby Mary Helen's actual child? He was adorable and they were adorable with him and it took me five whole damned minutes to figure out a meaning. Cos yeah, John The Baptist was all about the coming messiah, wasn't he? D'uhhhhhhh, dri.
I still can't believe how much I loved it. The lighting, the colours, the riveting visual of an albino blonde in a white wedding dress that was filthy grey on the train from all the performances. Tiny little things like how she tried to strangle herself with her own veil in the background, how beautiful her bone structure was and yet how unnerving she could make her eyes.
The music was fascinating and perfect. Although I did tire a little of the moaning towards the end but I guess that was the point. That riff of a folk melody drove me mad because the words were on the tip of my tongue but I kept flashing back to Spike in the barn of crosses and argh, I don't think that's it.
I didn't love all the performances. Pretty much everyone except Salome and John irritated me at some point but it was easy enough to ignore them and focus on the people I wanted because everyone was always doing something at every single moment. Syd Brisbane has such a marvellous face, I'm sure I've seen him in something.
There are still a few things that are prodding my mind, like how the hell did she get the blood to turn into water but omigod who cares cos ack, Christ reversal, eeeek! It was enough that she was clearly the one to keep the court together, to offer a sort of sustenance when Herod couldn't do it himself. Fucking brilliant frustration of hunger and thirst and thwarted desire.
And I'm sure it means nothing at all that I came straight home and drank a whole bottle of water. I may do it again when I hit Post.
What topped the entire experience off was discovering that Miss Sheba sitting right next to me had the exact opposite reaction to the play. Again, I was astonished at my own delight. Talk about the starkest illustration of how one work of art can be two different things to two different people. Liek woah. Hee.
I wanted to buy a Rabble key cos they're a great size and so Susanna Clarke unusual with the bird in the loop but couldn't afford it. Next time.