Thursday, November 1, 2012
Truly, I’m happy they made up their own dialogue, because had they done the show in the original Greek, I fear too many people would have left the theater making the “It’s Greek to me!” joke. Now, I’m sure this joke was funny when some toga-clad Athenian made it in the olden days, but the luster is off that horse’s mouth, if you know what I mean. If you don’t know what I mean, may I suggest Sheckie’s Laugh Hut on Main Street. Not that I’ve ever been there, but order the onion rings.
The show appeared to get a lot of inspiration from media and celebrity and involved a seizure-inducing video montage of lots of famous people and the Lucky Charms leprachaun. Interestingly, I saw no pictures of myself, but perhaps I missed them during my grand mal episode in the second act. In any event, I was in the actual audience, so my fame became a sort of meta-device in the production. Had I realized, I would have worn a toga to honor Sophocles. Honestly, how an ancient Mediterranean foresaw my meteoric rise and wrote me into his classic play, I do not know, but then again, I was pretty sure Whitney Houston wouldn’t make it to 60, so perhaps the future is not as unknowable as one might think.
Back to the show. Antigone was costumed as a heroin-addict polar bear. I wasn’t quite sure of the symbolism involved, but my guess is that it had something to do with the arctic nature of modern interaction. Lost innocence is also always a good bet when trying to figure out symbolism. And generally, if symbolism is afoot, one can find a Christ figure, usually with the initials JC (for example, Julius Caesar). Many of the characters in The Antigone Project were unnamed, but I am quite certain one or more of the actors dressed in black was likely named Jacqueline Carrington, or something similar. Don’t quote me, but I feel quite secure with my guess.
The play really got exciting when Antigone was jailed by Creon for burying her brother. Now, one would think Creon would be thrilled that he didn’t have to pay sanitation workers and could use that money for a private jet, but apparently one would be wrong. Given that, in Creon’s kingdom, the dead have to rot in the streets, I can only surmise that Creon made his money in the perfume or perhaps Fabreze industry. He certainly looked as though he smelled nice, although it is hard to understand why a Fabreze executive would be a death penalty advocate. Fewer customers is always a bad thing, as any successful businessman will tell you.
I should also mention that the set consisted of newspapers taped to the floor in a sort of homage to a gerbil cage. And, in fact, in the opening sequence, many of the Jacqueline characters marched purposefully around the papers as though they were “caged.” It was a nice touch, although I think one of those wheels would have added depth of field.
There certainly was a lot going on in this production. I am not sure I recall another production that I’ve ever seen incorporating Jesus, gerbils, polar bears, and Fabreze quite so evocatively. Well, Harvey Fierstein’s A Catered Affair came close, but its treatment of gerbils was too mundane for my taste. Kudos to TheatreLAB, Sophocles, and myself.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
The other evening I attended Industry Night for A Bright New Boise at the Firehouse Theatre Project. I am as industrious as the next brilliant actress, so I prepared accordingly with two contrasting monologues set in Idaho, the Boise State Broncos fight song in E Minor, and an acrobatic, lyrical movement piece celebrating the 104th largest city in the United States. (I cut the piece down to a manageable 10 minutes by excising my salute to the 103 cities that triumphed over Boise).
The showcase procedures were somewhat odd. Although the emcee repeatedly asked for the next performer by chanting, "Now! Now! Now!", it appeared that all participants needed to wear an ugly red vest. I was, quite understandably, tortured. First, the red vest would cover my Potato Bowl costume, which was handmade out of french fries and chiffon. Second, the vest would have been terribly unflattering to a figure honed through years of bulimia. Finally, I did not receive the memo of such requirements and was, therefore, unable to prepare ahead of time. I am certain that, with proper notice, I could have constructed an appropriate costume incorporating a red vest, but to do so on the fly was more than even I could handle, especially as the french fries were somewhat detrimental to clear thinking.
While I argued with myself as to the proper course of conduct, I watched the other performers with interest, and this is what I have to report. (1) Profanity is back. (2) The Apocalypse is a good topic for monologues. (3) The tech crew was asleep. I'm sorry to point it out, but I must. While actors were trying gamely to present their pieces, there was A VIDEO PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND. And not just any video, but a horrifying, disgusting video about CRAFTERS. Revolting. I saw styrofoam, glue guns, tummy tucks, even fondant. At one point, I believe somebody was trying to make a human eyeball out of construction paper and fabric paint. I am sorry to have to discuss crafting before my 5pm hot French class, but I simply must call them as I see them. How anyone can hope to create art in such a situation, I do not know.
In the end, I felt it necessary to preserve my high standards and chose not to present my piece in a vest. Although the audience did not get to see my performance, we were all entranced by the talk of the Apocalypse. It is a scary thought to some, I imagine, but I don't lost much sleep over it, which is a good thing, because if I get any less than twelve hours, I can't even audition for teenage roles. In any event, the fact is, we are living in the Apocalyptic times already. Honestly, if actors being forced to emote in red vests is not a sign of the end times, then it is possible I am not destined for greatness. You see my point? I realize now that The Four Horseman will not be well dressed. In such a case, I sincerely hope that I am not Left Behind. What ho!!