The Killing of Sister George
Last night Christian and I had a rare planned night of high culture. We went to the Long Wharf Theater to see Kathleen Turner star in The Killing of Sister George. Neither of us had ever seen the play before or the movie, so we knew little of what to expect, other than it was a dark comedy about an alcoholic lesbian name June Buckridge who plays Sister George, a wholesome nurse/nun, on a radio program in the 1960s. She begins to suspect her longtime character is going to be killed off and doesn't take the news lightly.
Christian and I had been big fans of Kathleen Turner, mainly due to her phenomenal work in Serial Mom, and we were excited to see her live on stage. We got front center seats maybe 15 rows back. Overall, we were both very happy with the performances. Ms. Turner acted well in a prickly, difficult role, though it seemed like maintaining her British accent constrained her range of expression. At times, I couldn't help but associate her with character in Serial Mom, especially with her diabolical laugh. I guess I was expecting a knockout performance and instead just got a solid one. Who impressed me more was the actress (Betsy Aidem) playing Mrs. Mercy, the sharp chief at the BBC. She walked the line between stuffy high class Brit and tender woman convincingly. Clea Alsip showed promise as Childie, June's young, live-in girlfriend, and Olga Merediz was pretty good (though brandishing a strange semi-Spanish accent) as Madame Xenia. I liked that in the current adaptation they made the lesbian elements more overt, though still suitably subtextual for the time period whenever the two leads had company. The play was randy and had a couple great one-liners--I'd like to see a more sour woman take up the main role and I'm curious how the movie plays out. A night well spent.
One thing about the experience outside the performance: we couldn't believe how many people left their cell phones on even after being asked to turn them off at the start of the show. You'd here a muted jingle here, buzzing vibration there. One 40-something woman had the gall to answer her telephone, hunch over and text a response. Later, she and her two friends cracked up at a message they had received. I was happy that some of the people around them caused a fuss to shame them and during intermission a young man two rows behind them gave these women a firm scolding. They didn't return for the second half. People have no sense of courtesy with their phone use.
Christian and I had been big fans of Kathleen Turner, mainly due to her phenomenal work in Serial Mom, and we were excited to see her live on stage. We got front center seats maybe 15 rows back. Overall, we were both very happy with the performances. Ms. Turner acted well in a prickly, difficult role, though it seemed like maintaining her British accent constrained her range of expression. At times, I couldn't help but associate her with character in Serial Mom, especially with her diabolical laugh. I guess I was expecting a knockout performance and instead just got a solid one. Who impressed me more was the actress (Betsy Aidem) playing Mrs. Mercy, the sharp chief at the BBC. She walked the line between stuffy high class Brit and tender woman convincingly. Clea Alsip showed promise as Childie, June's young, live-in girlfriend, and Olga Merediz was pretty good (though brandishing a strange semi-Spanish accent) as Madame Xenia. I liked that in the current adaptation they made the lesbian elements more overt, though still suitably subtextual for the time period whenever the two leads had company. The play was randy and had a couple great one-liners--I'd like to see a more sour woman take up the main role and I'm curious how the movie plays out. A night well spent.
One thing about the experience outside the performance: we couldn't believe how many people left their cell phones on even after being asked to turn them off at the start of the show. You'd here a muted jingle here, buzzing vibration there. One 40-something woman had the gall to answer her telephone, hunch over and text a response. Later, she and her two friends cracked up at a message they had received. I was happy that some of the people around them caused a fuss to shame them and during intermission a young man two rows behind them gave these women a firm scolding. They didn't return for the second half. People have no sense of courtesy with their phone use.