Day of the (fairly) Triffic
On Thursday we went to see Day of the Triffids at the Wolsey Theatre.
I was puzzled as to how they were going to do triffids on stage without making everybody laugh. The solution was a simple one: don't. Triffids made their eerie rattling noise ambiently over the PA, and from time to time one of the cast would stare up terrified into the audience, fire a gun wildly, scream, and collapse to the ground after a 'thwap!'-like noise.
You might think that not having any triffids would detract rather from the experience, but not so. To be honest, I think the title rather oversells the triffids. If Wyndham had called it Day of the People Being Ghastly to One Another after Going Blind, and Also There Are Some Triffids, that would have been more accurate, although arguably less punchy in a commercial sense.
The plot was skipped through fairly swiftly, but all important episodes, characters and speeches were present. It used the device of a narrator Masen waiting while he prepares the escape from Torrence and his men, flashing back to the earlier scenes which are played out live by another Masen et al -- the two Masens wear the same clothes but have different hair, which is a bit weird.
One thing which struck me forcefully is that the speeches describing the society being built on the Isle of Wight by Beadley et al, with each man having two blind women alongside his sighted one etc, came across as extremely sinister and fascistic, and you wondered whether Masen and Josella were really doing such a sensible thing by opting to join them. When I read the book, admittedly when I was a mere youngster, I don't remember any such slant -- the message seemed to be more "it's necessary, so lie back and enjoy it". Maybe that's just me though.
To sum up -- read the book first if you haven't (we had some with us who hadn't, and they were a little baffled), not as good as the TV series, much better than the film, try and catch it if the tour takes it near you!
And afterwards we went out on the lash. [Not really.]
Fingringhoe -- not just a line in Lemon Jelly's 'Ramblin' Man', nor something gangsta rappers like to get up to in their spare time, but a small village near Colchester.
Last night, to a nature reserve just outside it, reached by a narrow windy road, in the dark, with enough people coming the other way to make you glad someone else is driving. It was the Essex Wildlife Trust's art exhibition preview. Not my natural environment, but we were with our friend Sam who was exhibiting her silk paintings. Much to her delight, the two biggest of the four she had in were sold while we were there, before the exhibition proper has even opened. Next time, higher prices!
Tracy bought me a present, a rather lovely work in encaustic wax, a technique I know nothing at all about (do any of you?), which is all swirly and coloured. It will go above my desk, to help distract me from work.
Interestingly enough, the nature reserve itself (which is basically a bunch of ex-gravel-pits near the estuary) had some mysterious signs depicting mammoths. In the dark we couldn't work out if this was because one had been dug up there, or a warning to motorists. I think a daylight visit may be called for.
I was puzzled as to how they were going to do triffids on stage without making everybody laugh. The solution was a simple one: don't. Triffids made their eerie rattling noise ambiently over the PA, and from time to time one of the cast would stare up terrified into the audience, fire a gun wildly, scream, and collapse to the ground after a 'thwap!'-like noise.
You might think that not having any triffids would detract rather from the experience, but not so. To be honest, I think the title rather oversells the triffids. If Wyndham had called it Day of the People Being Ghastly to One Another after Going Blind, and Also There Are Some Triffids, that would have been more accurate, although arguably less punchy in a commercial sense.
The plot was skipped through fairly swiftly, but all important episodes, characters and speeches were present. It used the device of a narrator Masen waiting while he prepares the escape from Torrence and his men, flashing back to the earlier scenes which are played out live by another Masen et al -- the two Masens wear the same clothes but have different hair, which is a bit weird.
One thing which struck me forcefully is that the speeches describing the society being built on the Isle of Wight by Beadley et al, with each man having two blind women alongside his sighted one etc, came across as extremely sinister and fascistic, and you wondered whether Masen and Josella were really doing such a sensible thing by opting to join them. When I read the book, admittedly when I was a mere youngster, I don't remember any such slant -- the message seemed to be more "it's necessary, so lie back and enjoy it". Maybe that's just me though.
To sum up -- read the book first if you haven't (we had some with us who hadn't, and they were a little baffled), not as good as the TV series, much better than the film, try and catch it if the tour takes it near you!
And afterwards we went out on the lash. [Not really.]
Fingringhoe -- not just a line in Lemon Jelly's 'Ramblin' Man', nor something gangsta rappers like to get up to in their spare time, but a small village near Colchester.
Last night, to a nature reserve just outside it, reached by a narrow windy road, in the dark, with enough people coming the other way to make you glad someone else is driving. It was the Essex Wildlife Trust's art exhibition preview. Not my natural environment, but we were with our friend Sam who was exhibiting her silk paintings. Much to her delight, the two biggest of the four she had in were sold while we were there, before the exhibition proper has even opened. Next time, higher prices!
Tracy bought me a present, a rather lovely work in encaustic wax, a technique I know nothing at all about (do any of you?), which is all swirly and coloured. It will go above my desk, to help distract me from work.
Interestingly enough, the nature reserve itself (which is basically a bunch of ex-gravel-pits near the estuary) had some mysterious signs depicting mammoths. In the dark we couldn't work out if this was because one had been dug up there, or a warning to motorists. I think a daylight visit may be called for.