Monday, November 24, 2014

under mango trees and other artspace

exercising the reviewing muscle again, still informally, and the blogging muscles, yay, plus a few other art-ings...
so. the las' time i went to a locally produced 1act play, it was so bad that i was cringing within the 1st minute; 40minutes in warrenman knock out hard, mouth open, all kinna ting, while roger mouth was open in shock+horror at what was unfolding onstage; by the end i wanted back my $100 plus the wasted hour of my life. the other day i saw 2shows i was very looking forward to and didn' enjoy as much as i'd hoped. this rounds it was a world premiere, inaugural production for halqa; i wanted to see what this new production company, creative team and performers would deliver, and what the (local) playwright simeon moodoo (half of halqa) might be capable of, but was, i think reasonably, worried. but i was determined, so i drag my tired, stinky self to the little carib yesterday, straight outta rehearsal, still in sweats, for under the mango trees. and it was good!
it was a small show with simple but effective set+lights, better performed+executed than the wiz and more emotionally engaging than jab molassie. running about an hour with 2actors and 2"silhouettes" working off+onstage, from the shadowpuppetry-esque to physically manipulating the "elephant in the room", the production maintained its sense of the local, while theatrically incorporating elements of the otherworldly to translate the sometimes-strangeness of human experience and passage of time[space]. with a few musicians and singers rounding out the group, halqa and director marcus waldron create a believable world with chadd cumberbatch's simple set of white fabric (and the beautiful white elephant head) and peter craig's lighting[+shadow] design, and tell a compelling story, chronologically skipping through pivotal moments in "ryan" and "adafi"s trajectory to abandonment+busshead.
zoe white's 1st silent minutes onstage as "adafi" delivered some of the best acting i've seen on a local stage in a little bit, maybe since miss miles, and kimmy's fake-chennet-eating in more love, and kijana lewis make his trip here from guyana worthwhile with some solid work as "ryan". i also very liked the overall physicality of the piece and some of the silhouettes' stuff was very well-conceived [big-up choreographer, ian baptiste] movement-with-lighting, conveying certain visual plot-elements.
it wasn' a perfect show; some moments felt longer and more drawn out than they needed to be after the point was made so pacing was a little uneven, and one transition particularly bothered me as feeling too contrived, but the acting was strong+enjoyable enough that that eh ruin the performances/show; didn' love the costuming, but it was at least minimal and absolutely as versatile as necessary, so with no designer credited, i'll guess halqa made the best of a lacking situation. i didn' enjoy the "hey brown girl" moment either (one of the drawn-out ones, enough that i wanna say "moments" insteada the singular) because much of it seemed long+overdone to me, to no particular effect, and because the singing was not very good and the drums+vocals seemed off [from each other] which eh help with someting already feeling overlong. but again, not show-ruining.
it feels good to be able to say i enjoyed the production, and that young local playwrights eh giving up yet, and finally getting some play...
'twas a good weekend in art+theatre, for me; besides drama class with the gremlins, seeing a decent show and plenty dance rehearsal (continuum performing the museum of difficult women weekend coming!) i read some new fiction for an audience saturday...was terrified because i just, like that morning, just finish someting new, completely unvetted, and decide to read it publicly, knowing no writer in their right mind does that. but i feeling the new piece, is the perfect length, and i felt brave enough to put it out there, so i gone through...and they loved it. merle hodge rate it, the amazing shivanee like it (and i get to hear her read someting new, too) and plenty people come to tell me after how much they liked it; one lady say she cry...yay[?]...and alla that have me back here blogging too, so i might as well share more art-ing...look ting, right quick:
this link is to someting i cyah explain nor describe, except to say, storytelling! and because you eh see nutting else quite like it, watch. (and shia la beouf)
to listen+judge for yourself: new york's 10best djs?
and for more [certain] listening pleasure, time is illmatic...
this image, jus' because prince is that sexy mothafucker...
and last but  not least, some well-executed funny; stop looking at your phones!

walk good.

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Wednesday, November 12, 2014

a tale of 2productions

weekend gone i spend my hard-earned, unplentiful dollars to take in some theatre. i love theatre, love seeing shows, used to go as much as pocket allow until i realise that what on offer here not really for the i: i want way more experimentation, more challenging work+performers+spaces, more variety; the few shows on local stages i'd want to see usually ting i done wukkin on. plus the arts doh pay enough for me to be flinging my $ behind low-calibre art. but weekend had 2(expensive)shows i wanted to see: proscenium's the wiz (because even if it eh absolutely brilliant, at bare minimum, it'd be fun, and i wanted to see where mervyn's work at after not seeing in years) and calabash foundation's jab molassie because, world premiere, warrenman, roger, salcedo, doyle, dave...
i went, i saw, i cringed, i ran...not all@both, but...well, from the beginning, chronologically...
wait. i forget i was to say someting else about the fact of this happening at all, about the writing. i eh write for the media for nearly 20years now, but when i did i was proud to be pretty much the most qualified person writing theatre reviews even at my young age, because of my (then over a decade) training+performing in the arts. somehow, all this time later we still have very few writing reviews who actually know+understand stagecraft and can write proper critique (which should include what did/not work and why for each production element plus why an audience might/not enjoy the show) and lately more than 1person i respect trying to chain me up to review again to combat this dangerous situation of the underinformed declaring theatrical attempts excellent when they merely novel (and novel only to the underexposed at that) thus convincing those making bad theatre otherwise, that they good and should proceed accordingly...sooo i trying a ting here just to see how i feel about flexing them muscles at all, informal for now. right? right.
so friday night i went the wiz. it was not fun. not even a little. kevin humphrey (thank goodness) was good as the cowardly lion, vocals+acting both, and the youthman who play the scarecrow wasn't bad, but the rest of the cast delivered not a whit of decent acting and not all of them with solo songs to carry were strong enough singers. i'd like to think friday night's show was suffering 2nd night slump because the whole ting felt+looked like it still want another 2weeks rehearsal to be audience-ready: cues were slow throughout the production; neither actors nor musicians picking up cues so dialogue was stilted and both action and transitions slow, but then the band launch ease on down the road at such a gallop the poor singer (sadly, because her voice decent but we couldn' really tell until later when she sang as glinda, the good witch) spend the whole song breathlessly chasing it, no ease and definitely no fun; lighting cues were also late, sometimes nonexistent when desperately necessary, people performed onstage in the dark repeatedly and what light there was when there was wasn't particularly effective, plus the follow-spot ops then further ruin this already-unsuccessful lighting design by failing to fulfill their most basic function of keeping performers they following in the spot (as somebody who's been a follow-spot-op i call that disgraceful; it eh facking hard!) although there was enough poor singing among principals (thank the universe again for kevin-lion, yes, and that the witches could sing, if not act) and bad stage-blocking that maybe it was for the best; costumes+make-up, however, win! mervyn mash up alla them visuals beautifully...oh, and that night a technical failure spoil the reveal of the wizard, not that that even matter by then i done not-enjoying the show for a solid 45minutes; during a scene-change, set pieces being flown in and is to hear the breaking of one getting damaged beyond use, so audience hadda siddown watching the wizard the entire time he shoulda be hidden behind the curtain, sad-looking (but not the way the story intend) on his bleak, weakly-lit platform. sigh. 'twas tough times. i felt bad for making ma go, and pelt out as curtain come down so i wouldn' see anybody and have to respond to, "did you like the show?"
jab molassie sunday evening was better. far from perfect, but far better than the wiz, although i suppose that eh saying much...but jab was well-executed all round. set+costumes mostly worked well, voices did everyting they needed and the music is lovely, although i'd like to hear it played by a less "white" orchestra because they eh quite find the syncopation+swing [i think] it need. but even though it was technically better, i still didn' love it...i was unmoved; the show felt flat to me; i never cared about the characters or their story. i think the libretto, in compressing soldier's tale into this hour-long production, pushing the show, the lyrics, the story through so fast, have you in the audience busy chasing plot, trying to catch up and keep up, you doh have time to invest in the characters; when the players directly ask the audience, "what you think about starboy now?" i didn' know or care because i never had chance to make any connection. the libretto+under-direction also fail to give 3 of the 6characters any personality at all; the 2corporals and carnival queen so underdeveloped, all we know 'bout them is they like starboy enough to want him to succeed, which not enough to make them engaging, even when narrating the story; you watching talent waste onstage. with the population of the piece so 1dimensional, it lacked believability, lacked life, there was nutting for me to invest in...i believe the libretto and lack of direction conspired to make what coulda-shoulda been a great show just pleasant insteada life-changing or even particularly thought-provoking, but i also believe the weak elements of this world premiere eminently improvable; we might see a stronger production of jab yet...
meanwhile, a wholly unconnected 3rd piece i thoroughly enjoyed; brad pitt on between2ferns:


walk good.

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Monday, November 03, 2014

at least the blasted machine play the st.ans + theophilus london + sweeney...

what frustrating me months now is that the state of this machine makes writing not just painfully slow but physically uncomfortable and eventually painful, so i want to write but don't, because i cyah get settled enough. i really thought this situation would be over by now and it making me a little stir-crazy, so i trying a quick ting to relieve some pressure. plus, of course, i have ting to archive...speaking of which, universe, i looking for one of these, please...

i survive the dreaded chikungunya; suspect i had a (relatively) mild case. my feet still hurt but at least i back out to dance (a little). that was making me a little crazy too.
supposed to read and speak at bocas litfest in south weekend coming; reading suckeye, but the talking on a panel about local crime fiction, terrifying...who's me? but they say they want me because i was so enjoyable when they had me on the shakespeare panel in april, and i had a lovely time doing it, so how could i not?
thought i would be upset about not being in that movie for longer than i was, but i think the way they move soured me on them enough that i doh wanna work with them anymore, so is nutting...
sooo, now that i sitting here, uncomfortably, ready to exercise the writing muscle in spite of, i realise that what i wanna write is all for the script and trying to explore that here, now, doh make sense (although i will, as soon as i get some time with script and new machine)...so instead lemme explore one of the things bubbling on my backburner lately, because people keep doing it...i am flummoxed by the ability to be an asshole, know one is being an asshole, then be unpleasantly surprised by my negative response to one's fuckery. i think i'm coming to the conclusion that is a kinna willful arrogance and ignorance of reality, in the assumption that my love for you means i accept any treatment at your hands uncomplainingly, as though i am less than a person myself. this phenomenon is particularly acute when functioning in conjunction with the muse-as-tool problem, which i face far too often because too many are too selfish and too thoughtless to realise that a human muse, while providing a wonderful facility, should not be treated like a tool, but like a person. obvious to me but apparently not obvious enough to nearly enough...and having articulated that helped just like i hoped; i think i right about the asshole behaviour, and will continue as i have been of late, locking it off, in spite of assholes not liking that. everybody get enough chances. party done.
so, i good dey, so lewwe share the wealth.
1st, some music i need to relocate when new machine reach and i adding to my listening collection again: trini boy st.ans' all saints day: the anarchist's order is an album to hear+get-to-keep, and same for nex' trini boy theophilus london's new album vibes.
this i archive for when i need a proper dose of hilarity: the rainbow-cake comment-apocalypse.
literary jumper-cables: clickable periodic table of storytelling tropes.
this is about sharing moreso than archiving, but it cyah hurt to be able to reference black moms talking about "the talk" with white moms; when reading, even if it eh news to you, get to the final sentence for the real point.
random assemblage of short stories that recently delivered reading delight; well, maybe not "delight" as none of them particularly joyous, per se, but each, differently, held me in thrall:
neil gaiman's a study in emerald.
unconnected, neil gaiman's snow, glass, apples.
stephen king's herman wouk is still alive.
david foster wallace's backbone.
matt getty's keeping susie whole.
this sweeney todd opening is an absolute must-watch, for me, over+over+again+again; that is direction fadda!
and this last, because it silly and because, the lyric "badman doh pull out usb safely"...

walk good.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Matt Getty said...

I'm always fascinated when I come across people who've read my work. Thanks for the kind words about "Keeping Susie Whole."

10:47 pm  

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