Winter Nights.

Nov 23, 2005 00:09

I have been reading about Ingmar Bergman and Brecht, as I had been planning to do for quite some time. I've also been reading about Howard Brenton, as I discovered some slightly dusty and badly photocopied plays of his in the library. I was quite intrigued by the title Hitler Dances and I tried to decipher the pages but didn't have the essential magnifying glass. Of course, at home I did a search on him and read about Boody Poetry, which I found very, very interesting, but of course that has to be missing in the photocopy collection. But then there are other plays there, and suprisingly there was The Caretaker, sandwitched between two Brentons.

As for Brecht, I couldn't really find a satisfactory website about him, but the alienation technique seemsvery ineresting and difficult. I can't hardly wait to read Brecht.
But the best has been reading about Ingmar Bergman's work and reading the little plot summaries of his movies, and I haven't felt so warm and interested about any artist sice a very long time and I do so hope that I'll get to watch some Bergman soon, though I cannot see that happening in any rational way, but then I didn't expect to find the Caretaker too...But I do feel so happy about Ingmar Bergman. So, so warm and happy, not because of the plot summaries or thumbnail biographies but because of the whole entity, like a large window has been thrown open to let in lovely clear air and to show a strange, lovely and shadow filled garden, even though you expected the window to face a brick wall.

It is so wonderful. discovering things for the first time.

Tomorrow I leave for a village for the wedding of some relative whose name I don't know, but that means two days away from school, and even if the wedding is annoying, I doubt if it can be more futile than our idiot classroms.

theatre, books, people, me

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