Waiting For Godot (and Sherlock)
1. Saw Waiting for Godot at the Sydney Theatre Company yesterday, which I've been looking forward to for ages, because it starred Hugo Weaving (Vladimir) and featured Philip Quast (Pozzo), and nothing more need be said. The awesomeness was immense. Richard Roxburgh (Estragon) was perfectly serviceable but not quite in the same league. I had a thoroughly wonderful and memorable time, but the reasons for this are varied, so I'm going to take them in parts:
* The play itself - I think I may have skimmed through it in a library once, but I've never read or absorbed the entirety of it, so that was a new experience. Vladimir and Estragon pass the time together as they wait endlessly for the arrival of the mysterious Godot. This production was very heavy on the comedy (such as it was), which I personally thought was a good move, because even with that emphasis, parts of it threatened to get a bit tedious at times. I didn't fall asleep, but my eyelids were getting decidedly heavy. With R+G, Stoppard made the time-filling "games" a highlight in themselves, and you can see the precursors of that here - one of them suggests a game of Questions, and there are anecdotes and a bit of wordplay, and squabbling over trivialities - but it's not as consistently interesting. The incursion of wealthy landowner Pozzo and his hapless servant Lucky helped a lot, but even that got a bit wearing after a while (I'm thinking specifically of Lucky's monologue, which went on forever). However everything really pays off during the last 15 minutes or so when Vladimir is finally confronted by how essentially alone he is - Estragon's memories of "yesterday" are vague; Pozzo and Lucky return inexplicably changed, and with no memory of their earlier encounter; and the young messenger from Godot claims not to know Vladimir, despite Vladimir remembering him delivering exactly the same message the day before. It's like a nightmare version of Groundhog Day. The thing which really makes the play is that abrupt transition from trivialities to the fundamentals of existence, from comedy to pathos, that horrible sinking feeling as Vladimir, despite all his outward confidence and determination, realises the hopelessness of his situation. It's a moment I think you should also get at the end of R+G, but it was never really achieved in the production I saw earlier in the year.
* The acting/actors - I pretty much find Hugo Weaving brilliant at everything he does (although I have no comment on the elf thing), and this was no exception. Vladimir is the heart of the play, and he handled all the light and shade beautifully, and subtly. The thing that I love about Weaving is that he's always radiating a certain presence and energy, even when just standing there, whereas Roxburgh felt very 'on/off', and with fewer gradations of emotion. Quast, on the other hand was the OTT contrast to Weaving's subtlety. I love Quast's singing so much that I mentally class him as a singer rather than an actor, but acting's where his background actually lies, and his voice is no less commanding when he's doing it. His domineering roar as Pozzo arrives, his enormous bulk being dragged along at the end of a hangman's rope by his scrawny servant, pretty much blasted everything off the stage before it. It's as though the rest of the cast are vocally armed with water pistols, and he has a Super Soaker *g*. As the wealthy owner of the land around them, his Pozzo is initially a figure of comic arrogance, but also deliberately cruel and manipulative. Yet cast down and humbled by his blindness, he becomes a genuinely pathetic figure. Really, it was just incredible to see Weaving and Quast playing off each other, and I'll always treasure having seen this production for that reason alone.
* The seats - I was originally booked to see this on the 14th with a friend, who then received an invitation to a Very Important Birthday Party. So I ended up rebooking for the 21st (and selling the old tickets). At the time, I thought BB was second row, as one would rather expect from the letter B. Due to the stage configuration, they were in fact front row seats. Middle-of-front-row seats. Which can be rather confronting when Vladimir and Estragon perch on the edge of the stage, their legs dangling right in front of you, and have extended conversations about turnips (and later, radishes). There's also a late scene where Pozzo, now blind, is being supported by Vladimir on one side and Estragon on another right at the front of the stage, which gave me a spectacularly towering view of all three of them. Being in the front row is also a notable reminder that an integral part of being a stage actor is apparently being able to withstand everyone spitting on you without flinching *g*. This play was truly impressive for its spittle content (besides the fact that Lucky spent half his time literally drooling as part of his character, which was... as gross as it sounds). When the actors were hard up at the front of the stage speaking directly outwards they really seemed to make an effort to curtail this, but then they would turn their heads to talk to each other and you could see the mists of spray flying everywhere. LOL. I actually had one hand up at the side of my face out of a semi-rational fear of being spat on, but thankfully I felt nothing. (We also saw Long Day's Journey Into Night from the front row ages ago, although way off to the side, and all my friend really remembers of that performance is that a) he fell asleep and b) that he experienced the distressingly dampening side-effects of William Hurt's enunciation. Thankfully, I avoided both of those experiences.)
2. Pre-performance, I managed to snap this terrible photo. I was in a hurry and the wind was blowing, but I tried. Okay, not very hard. I'm afraid the #holmescestrules one is even crappier, but I've posted it here.
3. I did watch the controversial Finnish trailer for Sherlock S3, which I adored (please spoiler-cut if you want to discuss!). Granted it was a little spoilery, but just enough to tantalise rather than annoy, imo. I can't wait! My ISP sent me an email claiming they'll have the internet working at our new place by 'close of business' December 24th. I hope they're right...
* The play itself - I think I may have skimmed through it in a library once, but I've never read or absorbed the entirety of it, so that was a new experience. Vladimir and Estragon pass the time together as they wait endlessly for the arrival of the mysterious Godot. This production was very heavy on the comedy (such as it was), which I personally thought was a good move, because even with that emphasis, parts of it threatened to get a bit tedious at times. I didn't fall asleep, but my eyelids were getting decidedly heavy. With R+G, Stoppard made the time-filling "games" a highlight in themselves, and you can see the precursors of that here - one of them suggests a game of Questions, and there are anecdotes and a bit of wordplay, and squabbling over trivialities - but it's not as consistently interesting. The incursion of wealthy landowner Pozzo and his hapless servant Lucky helped a lot, but even that got a bit wearing after a while (I'm thinking specifically of Lucky's monologue, which went on forever). However everything really pays off during the last 15 minutes or so when Vladimir is finally confronted by how essentially alone he is - Estragon's memories of "yesterday" are vague; Pozzo and Lucky return inexplicably changed, and with no memory of their earlier encounter; and the young messenger from Godot claims not to know Vladimir, despite Vladimir remembering him delivering exactly the same message the day before. It's like a nightmare version of Groundhog Day. The thing which really makes the play is that abrupt transition from trivialities to the fundamentals of existence, from comedy to pathos, that horrible sinking feeling as Vladimir, despite all his outward confidence and determination, realises the hopelessness of his situation. It's a moment I think you should also get at the end of R+G, but it was never really achieved in the production I saw earlier in the year.
* The acting/actors - I pretty much find Hugo Weaving brilliant at everything he does (although I have no comment on the elf thing), and this was no exception. Vladimir is the heart of the play, and he handled all the light and shade beautifully, and subtly. The thing that I love about Weaving is that he's always radiating a certain presence and energy, even when just standing there, whereas Roxburgh felt very 'on/off', and with fewer gradations of emotion. Quast, on the other hand was the OTT contrast to Weaving's subtlety. I love Quast's singing so much that I mentally class him as a singer rather than an actor, but acting's where his background actually lies, and his voice is no less commanding when he's doing it. His domineering roar as Pozzo arrives, his enormous bulk being dragged along at the end of a hangman's rope by his scrawny servant, pretty much blasted everything off the stage before it. It's as though the rest of the cast are vocally armed with water pistols, and he has a Super Soaker *g*. As the wealthy owner of the land around them, his Pozzo is initially a figure of comic arrogance, but also deliberately cruel and manipulative. Yet cast down and humbled by his blindness, he becomes a genuinely pathetic figure. Really, it was just incredible to see Weaving and Quast playing off each other, and I'll always treasure having seen this production for that reason alone.
* The seats - I was originally booked to see this on the 14th with a friend, who then received an invitation to a Very Important Birthday Party. So I ended up rebooking for the 21st (and selling the old tickets). At the time, I thought BB was second row, as one would rather expect from the letter B. Due to the stage configuration, they were in fact front row seats. Middle-of-front-row seats. Which can be rather confronting when Vladimir and Estragon perch on the edge of the stage, their legs dangling right in front of you, and have extended conversations about turnips (and later, radishes). There's also a late scene where Pozzo, now blind, is being supported by Vladimir on one side and Estragon on another right at the front of the stage, which gave me a spectacularly towering view of all three of them. Being in the front row is also a notable reminder that an integral part of being a stage actor is apparently being able to withstand everyone spitting on you without flinching *g*. This play was truly impressive for its spittle content (besides the fact that Lucky spent half his time literally drooling as part of his character, which was... as gross as it sounds). When the actors were hard up at the front of the stage speaking directly outwards they really seemed to make an effort to curtail this, but then they would turn their heads to talk to each other and you could see the mists of spray flying everywhere. LOL. I actually had one hand up at the side of my face out of a semi-rational fear of being spat on, but thankfully I felt nothing. (We also saw Long Day's Journey Into Night from the front row ages ago, although way off to the side, and all my friend really remembers of that performance is that a) he fell asleep and b) that he experienced the distressingly dampening side-effects of William Hurt's enunciation. Thankfully, I avoided both of those experiences.)
2. Pre-performance, I managed to snap this terrible photo. I was in a hurry and the wind was blowing, but I tried. Okay, not very hard. I'm afraid the #holmescestrules one is even crappier, but I've posted it here.
3. I did watch the controversial Finnish trailer for Sherlock S3, which I adored (please spoiler-cut if you want to discuss!). Granted it was a little spoilery, but just enough to tantalise rather than annoy, imo. I can't wait! My ISP sent me an email claiming they'll have the internet working at our new place by 'close of business' December 24th. I hope they're right...