CapitalistImperialistPig

Gus is the cat at the theatre door. I recently had the opportunity to participate in a "scene workshop" based on Moliere's Tartuffe . We used as a script Richard Wilbur's translation into rhymed couplets. If, like me, you didn't know what a "scene workshop" was, in our case it consisted of eight actors learning a selection of scenes from the play, and presenting them as a play with no special costumes and only a very minimal set, with a narrator filling in the missing details. Somewhat to my surprise, a bunch of people actually showed up, and, allegedly, payed money to see this. I hadn't been on stage for twenty years or so, and was much older than most of the rest of the cast, so I was appropriately terrified. Fortunately, I managed to remember most of my lines and the audience didn't throw fruit or even boo. It was a heck of a lot of fun. Of course my head is still filled with all these rhymed couplets.

They say that acting is a subtle art. A good actor can convey much by slight nuance of voice or dart of glance. All true, I'm quite sure, but first you have to memorize all those damn lines. It gets harder as the years accumulate.

I saw an impressive theatrical version of Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment tonight. I'm not sure how the adapters managed to cram the sprawling novel into 90 minutes, but they did, and to excellent effect. This is a story with some important intellectual weight, and Raskalnikov does as much damage to Nietsche and Consequentialism as he does to the hapless murder victims.

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. Moby Dick by Herman Melville Lacking Ishmael's adventurous spirit and opportunities, I nevertheless like an occasional change of pace. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - I got interested in Theatre, got into a few plays, and took some acting classes. My favorite teacher had a penchant for exercises intended to draw us out of our inhibitions and mannerisms. A particularly unpromising seeming one paired us up to interact with each other without speaking or touching. We started out on the stage of a medium sized theatre, seating perhaps 300. A notable feature was a sort of giant jungle gym, made of triangles about three feet on a side, built up from the sides of the theatre and extending over the audience and the apron of the stage, used ...