Goddamn Underpants.
Originally published at Perambulating Reason. You can comment here or there.
I went to see the UA production of The Underpants tonight. The most adorable girl in the world was the star and she looked just that: adorable. As if I weren’t captivated enough by her, tonight has my head in the stratosphere and my knees in the Nile. Her facial expressions and physical comedy were postively hilarious. She was perfect. I hate that. The less involved of my readers may question such a statement, so allow me to clarify. Said rocker of my world and pitter of my patter harbors a rather deep-seeded resentment for this here goofball. I can’t say what exactly set her off, but we had CW II and Fiction Workshop together over the course of my senior year. Most of it was spent with varying degrees of tension. We’re both passionate and opinionated. The difference being that I wallow in her aggressive arguments while she seems to steam with every bit of my opposition. Alas, she has my thoughts. And makes me weak in the knees. Disgusting, I know.
The play itself was hilarious and emotional, especially for a gender studies buff. It’s set in 1910 Germany. It begins with a rather Archie-like husband who is lamenting the fact that just as the King came by during a parade, his wife’s bloomers fell to the ground. Note that the aforementioned goddess of cuddlibility plays the wife. He bemoans that his wife is far too beautiful to be married to him and now that she has been exposed, people will notice. The rest of the play involves a couple of suitors, a nosy upstairs neighbor who encourages affair, and the housewife. She is depicted early as oppressed both sexually and emotionally. The play is comic, but the content is quite direct. She is lonely and rejected. The play is about exploring these feelings, as well as a way out. Near the end she plays a gorgeous piano bit. I’m not sure if said stealer of my sanity played herself, but her fingers depressed the keys of the piano on stage in time with the notes. Anybody who knows me well knows that two things get me going more than anything: a woman who sings and/or plays music for me.
So now I’m wallowing. Care to join me? I won’t bite. But I might nibble. If you’re the girl I can’t have and can’t get rid of.