By Mary Shen Barnidge, reprinted from Moulinet: An Action Quarterly - Number One - 2009
SHAKESPLOITATION!
A punch whose knap follows several seconds after the swing, but several seconds before the receiver registers the impact, establishes at the outset the tone of author Andy Grigg's three Shakespeare spoofs, modeled on popular action-film genres -- the ghetto-and-car-chase Grand Theft Othello, the makeup-and-body-parts Apocalypse: Romeo and Juliet, and the chop-socko Ninja Hamlet: Burning Fist of Denmark. But fight choreographer Chris Walsh's biggest problem isn't living up to the show publicity's assertion that "The Bard is Baaadaass", but doing it on the Gorilla Tango storefront cabaret's stage -- an arena barely larger than a hostess-waitstation with front-row tables and customers' knees marking the boundaries of its apron.
Zombies of the Hollywood variety being uniformly big and hulking, the menacing creatures of Apocalypse are kept offstage (specifically, in the general region of the playhouse lobby -- a tactic not uncommon to low-budget Blair Witch Project knockoffs), while Grand Theft relies on hand-to-hand spectacle choreographed in the patently artificial manner of the evening's aforementioned opening sequence. Ironically, Ninja Hamlet presents the most ready solution to the safe-distance problem, thanks to the conventions introduced in the film Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon dictating that magic, not muscle, decides the battle. Thus, blows and kicks launched on opposite sides of the stage (with appropriate vocal accompaniment) are understood to be fully as efficacious as those connecting at close range. This full-cast (and most extensively-conceived) of the three sketches finishes with a burst of adrenaline to send us home -- or off to another Bucktown bar, anyway -- happy and exhilarated.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
That Is All, Campers
Another show is in the books. Camp Freedom! closed Sunday after a lengthy workshop and rehearsal process and a seven-week run. It was a rough one. The reviews were decent but not great, and we had a hard time pulling in audiences. We had to cancel a few performances due to a lack of paying customers. However, I was proud of my work, I think we had a pretty good show, and I got to work with a great group of people. In spite of the problems we encountered, this ensemble had enough fun working together that morale never wavered for a moment.
I pulled double-duty on this one, working both as an actor and as stage combat choreographer. I also contributed about eighty seconds of original music to score the big knife fight at the end. Perhaps the most important lesson I learned on this show was this: Never choreograph your own fights. This may not hold true for every choreographer, but it does for this one. I had a couple of problems with the experience: First, I went too easy on myself. My part was made up of fairly simple moves that just required me to be big, which I do without thinking about it. By way of comparison my main scene partner, Krista, had to do a cartwheel and flip over a table. She was a gymnast, so she was up to the task, and it all made sense in context. But I never really challenged myself, and I worry that I got lazy in performance as a result.
My other problem arose during performances. I was so distracted every time I was onstage and there was stage combat going on. I couldn't concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing because a part of my brain wanted to observe and critique the other performers. They were doing my choreography, after all, and I wanted to make sure they were doing it right. Never mind the fact that I was onstage with dialogue and choreography of my own for which I was responsible. And the music was just an added layer of distraction. Every time the opening chord of my piece kicked in I couldn't help but wonder if it should be louder, or if the drums were too bright, or if the guitars were too low in the mix. The next thing I know, there's Krista coming at me with a knife.
There is no such thing as a typical theatre experience. No two shows are the same. No two performances are the same. Every script, every director, every company and every ensemble bring their own gifts and their own sets of challenges to be overcome. We grow as artists by finding ways to combine our gifts in order to face those challenges. Rarely if ever is every problem completely solved, but that's half the fun. You work around it. You roll with it. You take what you've learned and bring it to the table when the next project rolls around. I learned a lot about myself as a theatre artist while working on Camp Freedom! As an added bonus, I had a lot of fun, too. Perhaps in the near future I will post my contribution to our little cast song competition. It was... something.
There is, as they say, no rest for the wicked. This weekend I dive into tech for Busman's Honeymoon at Lifeline. By comparison this should be a nice, easy run after Camp Freedom! We start previews on May 1st, and open on the 11th. I have a lot of free time backstage on this one, so maybe I'll get a little writing done for once. We shall see.
I pulled double-duty on this one, working both as an actor and as stage combat choreographer. I also contributed about eighty seconds of original music to score the big knife fight at the end. Perhaps the most important lesson I learned on this show was this: Never choreograph your own fights. This may not hold true for every choreographer, but it does for this one. I had a couple of problems with the experience: First, I went too easy on myself. My part was made up of fairly simple moves that just required me to be big, which I do without thinking about it. By way of comparison my main scene partner, Krista, had to do a cartwheel and flip over a table. She was a gymnast, so she was up to the task, and it all made sense in context. But I never really challenged myself, and I worry that I got lazy in performance as a result.
My other problem arose during performances. I was so distracted every time I was onstage and there was stage combat going on. I couldn't concentrate on what I was supposed to be doing because a part of my brain wanted to observe and critique the other performers. They were doing my choreography, after all, and I wanted to make sure they were doing it right. Never mind the fact that I was onstage with dialogue and choreography of my own for which I was responsible. And the music was just an added layer of distraction. Every time the opening chord of my piece kicked in I couldn't help but wonder if it should be louder, or if the drums were too bright, or if the guitars were too low in the mix. The next thing I know, there's Krista coming at me with a knife.
There is no such thing as a typical theatre experience. No two shows are the same. No two performances are the same. Every script, every director, every company and every ensemble bring their own gifts and their own sets of challenges to be overcome. We grow as artists by finding ways to combine our gifts in order to face those challenges. Rarely if ever is every problem completely solved, but that's half the fun. You work around it. You roll with it. You take what you've learned and bring it to the table when the next project rolls around. I learned a lot about myself as a theatre artist while working on Camp Freedom! As an added bonus, I had a lot of fun, too. Perhaps in the near future I will post my contribution to our little cast song competition. It was... something.
There is, as they say, no rest for the wicked. This weekend I dive into tech for Busman's Honeymoon at Lifeline. By comparison this should be a nice, easy run after Camp Freedom! We start previews on May 1st, and open on the 11th. I have a lot of free time backstage on this one, so maybe I'll get a little writing done for once. We shall see.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Education, Education, Education
I've known for some time that Joss Whedon rules. This is just more proof of it.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
So Say We All
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act I Scene V
Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. - Arthur C. Clarke, Profiles of The Future
The best TV show I have ever seen is over. I am a little bummed, but a story is not a story until it ends, and on Friday Battlestar Galactica came to a grand ending. However, a quick search through my Facebook friends reveals that not everyone agrees with me. The word "cop-out" comes up a lot. There is this insistence that the writers chose to chalk up all of the unanswered questions to "God did it." Accusations of lazy writing have been made. I would counter that with an accusation of lazy viewing.
The technical details of, say, Starbuck's resurrection are not what the show is about. If made-up tech-speak floats your boat then go watch one of the shittier Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes. On the flip side of that coin, I would argue that BSG made a specific effort to avoid any sort of definitive "God did it" answer to everything. The only thing the show would admit is that there is something going on that is beyond our current capabilities to comprehend. But BSG did not argue that we should stop learning, stop exploring, stop seeking the truth. Quite the contrary.
From the beginning, Battlestar Galactica has been populated by characters who held strict and unchanging views. Sometimes those views were religious. Sometimes it involved a faith in military discipline. Sometimes it involved assumptions about human nature. Much of the conflict in the show arose when one character would insist, perhaps even force, his views on others. But at the resolution of the series, the survivors had reached a place where they could accept the fact that they did not have all the answers. A pivotal moment in the final episode is a speech made by Gaius Baltar. I will admit that on the first viewing the speech rubbed me the wrong way, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that Baltar was not arguing for God. He was trying to get everyone to admit that their lives were influenced by forces at work in the universe that they do not yet understand. I will concede that it the dialogue is couched in some religious-sounding overtones, but the important part is that he is not arguing for, say, the Cylon God over the fleet's pantheon deities. He is arguing against the idea that any of the characters have a claim to the One Right Answer.
Some might argue that the fleet's decision to give up their ships and technology was an advocation of Luddism, but I think it was more an acknowledgment that what they had been doing wasn't working, and it was time to try something else. The whole series wrapped around the line, "All of this has happened before, and all of it will happen again." Our heroes won, in a way, because they managed to put off a repetition of the cycle for at least 150,000 years.
There were some things that I would have changed. The discovery that the Earth they'd found burnt to a crisp halfway through the final season was not in fact the real Earth was a bit of a fake-out, and there was probably a better way to do it. Whether it was planned in advance or not, it felt a little convenient. However, I loved the idea that the "Earth" they had searched for was not a real place but a Utopian ideal, and that the fleet would have to create it for themselves.
And the robot montage at the end was not great. I got the joke with the first glimpse of Asimo on the TV screen. I didn't need to be beaten over the head with it.
All that aside, I was very satisfied with the resolutions of most of the characters' stories. In particular, Baltar stating that he knew about farming was heartbreaking. And the end of Boomer's story was certainly appropriate. And I particularly enjoyed the moment when Tyrol, linked to the rest of the Final Five, discovered what Tory did to Cally - and then all hell broke loose. It was almost a scene out of a Quentin Tarantino movie. Really, the whole first hour of the finale was non-stop action and nerd awesomeness. The second hour was more somber, but in a good way. It was like the Grey Havens at the end of Lord of the Rings. A lot of goodbyes to be said.
I'm gonna miss this show. I wonder if Caprica will even come close to the quality of writing, acting and technical achievement reached by Battlestar Galactica. They've set a very, very high bar.
Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. - Arthur C. Clarke, Profiles of The Future
The best TV show I have ever seen is over. I am a little bummed, but a story is not a story until it ends, and on Friday Battlestar Galactica came to a grand ending. However, a quick search through my Facebook friends reveals that not everyone agrees with me. The word "cop-out" comes up a lot. There is this insistence that the writers chose to chalk up all of the unanswered questions to "God did it." Accusations of lazy writing have been made. I would counter that with an accusation of lazy viewing.
The technical details of, say, Starbuck's resurrection are not what the show is about. If made-up tech-speak floats your boat then go watch one of the shittier Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes. On the flip side of that coin, I would argue that BSG made a specific effort to avoid any sort of definitive "God did it" answer to everything. The only thing the show would admit is that there is something going on that is beyond our current capabilities to comprehend. But BSG did not argue that we should stop learning, stop exploring, stop seeking the truth. Quite the contrary.
From the beginning, Battlestar Galactica has been populated by characters who held strict and unchanging views. Sometimes those views were religious. Sometimes it involved a faith in military discipline. Sometimes it involved assumptions about human nature. Much of the conflict in the show arose when one character would insist, perhaps even force, his views on others. But at the resolution of the series, the survivors had reached a place where they could accept the fact that they did not have all the answers. A pivotal moment in the final episode is a speech made by Gaius Baltar. I will admit that on the first viewing the speech rubbed me the wrong way, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that Baltar was not arguing for God. He was trying to get everyone to admit that their lives were influenced by forces at work in the universe that they do not yet understand. I will concede that it the dialogue is couched in some religious-sounding overtones, but the important part is that he is not arguing for, say, the Cylon God over the fleet's pantheon deities. He is arguing against the idea that any of the characters have a claim to the One Right Answer.
Some might argue that the fleet's decision to give up their ships and technology was an advocation of Luddism, but I think it was more an acknowledgment that what they had been doing wasn't working, and it was time to try something else. The whole series wrapped around the line, "All of this has happened before, and all of it will happen again." Our heroes won, in a way, because they managed to put off a repetition of the cycle for at least 150,000 years.
There were some things that I would have changed. The discovery that the Earth they'd found burnt to a crisp halfway through the final season was not in fact the real Earth was a bit of a fake-out, and there was probably a better way to do it. Whether it was planned in advance or not, it felt a little convenient. However, I loved the idea that the "Earth" they had searched for was not a real place but a Utopian ideal, and that the fleet would have to create it for themselves.
And the robot montage at the end was not great. I got the joke with the first glimpse of Asimo on the TV screen. I didn't need to be beaten over the head with it.
All that aside, I was very satisfied with the resolutions of most of the characters' stories. In particular, Baltar stating that he knew about farming was heartbreaking. And the end of Boomer's story was certainly appropriate. And I particularly enjoyed the moment when Tyrol, linked to the rest of the Final Five, discovered what Tory did to Cally - and then all hell broke loose. It was almost a scene out of a Quentin Tarantino movie. Really, the whole first hour of the finale was non-stop action and nerd awesomeness. The second hour was more somber, but in a good way. It was like the Grey Havens at the end of Lord of the Rings. A lot of goodbyes to be said.
I'm gonna miss this show. I wonder if Caprica will even come close to the quality of writing, acting and technical achievement reached by Battlestar Galactica. They've set a very, very high bar.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
This Can't End Well
I left the house at one o'clock today and headed toward the bus stop four blocks away. Halfway there, I approached a corner and saw a gentleman up ahead crossing my path. He was some distance away and did not notice me but it was hard not to notice him. His back curved a bit so his head thrust forward and his face angled slightly downward. He took long strides, ungraceful but full of purpose. His arms swung haphazardly, out of rhythm with the rest of him. The crown of his head reflected the sun, but the rest of his hair hung in long greasy strands down past his shoulders. His beard was gray and unkempt and grew as low as his sternum. He wore a navy blue vinyl jacket, unbuttoned, with a dark-colored shirt beneath. It had some sort of faded yellow lettering that I could not make out. His jeans were almost shiny with grime, and from the calves down both legs were tattered and frayed. He wore no socks, and his sneakers were probably white once but had traveled a long way down the gray scale.
And he carried a drill.
If I knew more of the story I would certainly tell it. No doubt it is a fascinating one, but my part of it ended there. I paused for a moment when I saw the drill and watched him pass and then continued on toward the bus. I would love to know where he came from and where he was going and why. But I wasn't about to get close enough to ask him.
And he carried a drill.
If I knew more of the story I would certainly tell it. No doubt it is a fascinating one, but my part of it ended there. I paused for a moment when I saw the drill and watched him pass and then continued on toward the bus. I would love to know where he came from and where he was going and why. But I wasn't about to get close enough to ask him.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Kings
It's got Ian McShane being imperious and conniving. It's gorgeous, and the story is Shakespearean. Well, technically it's Biblical, which might get annoying. I feel I can let it go a little farther though because it is essentially an alternate-universe fantasy. I'd kind of like to see a map of this kingdom. The capital city of Shiloh is obviously New York, but after that the geography is pretty vague. The history, too. I'd also like a timeline.
I give the two-hour premiere episode three and a half stars out of four. Enough to make me watch the next one. Besides, Battlestar Galactica wraps up after this week and I will need to find something to fill the gaping hole in my life. It's too bad the show is on network TV; I'd really love to see the old Al Swearingen call somebody a cocksucker one more time.
I give the two-hour premiere episode three and a half stars out of four. Enough to make me watch the next one. Besides, Battlestar Galactica wraps up after this week and I will need to find something to fill the gaping hole in my life. It's too bad the show is on network TV; I'd really love to see the old Al Swearingen call somebody a cocksucker one more time.
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