Monday, 19 October 2009

and so...

on tuesday i saw krapps last tape at york theatre royal.
kenneth alan taylor is wonderfully fragile in the role.

on wednesday we were at the lowry to see slung low's betond the front line.
some nice and, relatively, exciting stuff here.

friday we popped to the west yorkshire playhouse for caucasian chalk circle.
pleased to see some accessible and enjoybale, non-preachy, brecht.

saturday, however, probably changed the world.

went down to royal court to see time crouch's the author. now i am already a massive fan of tim crouch's work, so was in eager anticipation. but, of all the things i have thoughts, written and learnt about his previous work, these have been subsume, consumed, flipped on their and our heads.

there is, over a long period of time, a contract drawn between the audience and the actor, each mixed within one another in their banks of seating; a contract of trust, interest and safety. there are, during these times, moments of joy, of sorrow, of lust, awkwardness and of genuine friendliness. this all ends with crouch, the man with his name on and in the text; the real and the fictional. this is, i think, one of the greatest acts of betrayel i have felt in the theatre. so simply, so perfectly crafted and utterly destroying.

there are ways and rules between the actor, the performer and the audience. these are, by and large, adhered to: not one if us is hurt, physically touched, personally abused. but i think probably all leave winded. get out clauses are set up, but few use them. we all sit, and listen and hate every word of the text, spoken from the authors mouth.

i think crouch is right. i don't doubt that some people may not forgive him.

a genuinley brutal and, theatrically, beautiful betrayal.

Saturday, 23 May 2009

Spring Awakening

speaking to a friend of mine the other day, he described us as being at the beginning, or at least in the need of a rennaissance.

at the risk of sounding like a horrific cliche, i tend to agree - the winds of change seem to be mustering ever-so-slightly. this may, of course, be for a variety of reasons; not least that our winds of change must blow, as we tentatively step in to our relative next stages.

for me, this is exciting. i imagine this entire experience could be terribly lonely. the thought of leaving a lifetimesworth of comfort, support and habits to be on one's own may indeed be a daunting thought. however i am happy to be in a slightly different position.

although i cannot pretend to boast prospective success, riches and waltzes in the world, i can happily say that i shan't be lonely. no matter what happens, whether i am to dive, sink, flounder or swim, three other worthy gentlemen shall be doing exactly the same at my side. and this is honestly nice to know.

although none of us really have a grand plan and none of us have any assurances as to what will happen over the next while, knowing that whatever does it will happen to all four of us is jolly nice.

so wherever these winds blow we shall race through them and in them respectively, hands clasped and hoping for the best.

as for the rennaissance, i hope to catch sight of it and jump on board. but then again maybe it is just myself and my friend who feel this shift on its way, and if so then quite why is inexplicable. but, equally, a two-man rennaissance may be all the rennaissance we need. we shall see, i guess.

whether towards bohemia, rennaissance or hard work and administration, i think that the four of us are poised and ready to jump, entirely without the aid of safety nets.

Wednesday, 6 May 2009

the very art of blogging

i think there are, at least for me, a million reasons why i would never have a blog.

i would assume that this very act would make me a little ego-centric. the assumption that others will spend their time reading my various thoughts.

in this vein, my thoughts are exactly that: mine. ordinarily i have no means, desire or need to publish them. they remain, as do most peoples, cosily holed up in my head, tucked in around other tasks of the day. this, then, is one of those tasks between which the toughts are kept, stolen and, now, slid out on to the page.

i cannot promise to be of any interest, although i shall do my best to try.

currently i have little divulge. hopefully this may change. anyone reading this may be witness to wordly and inspiring thoughts on any number of subjects. then again, you may not.

one can only hope and keep one's fingers crossed. for now.