A long overdue rant

Greetings, Sri Lankan blogosphere.

So its been something like 10 months since I bitched around in here, pardon my French.

Interesting point, that. On a completely random note I just learnt- most disappointingly- that 'pardon my French' doesn't have an interesting story of origin. Ah, woe is me. For some inexplicable reson, I imagined that it would be something along the lines of one of those juicy Napoleon Bonaparte stories we all love to hear.

But here I am again, rambling for all and sundry and of course that was em, not my intention.

Now. I have a bone– nay, a whole skeleton– to pick with the Sri Lankan dramasphere. Look at what you have done to September-October! I barely have a spare weekend, amid juggling nights and a thick bundle of tickets for different productions. Not that I’m complaining, aney. (Somebody please tell me I got my aney down in the correct context.)

What a year 2012 has been, folks. I turned a virulent shade of orange (I kid you not) after a trip to Hawaii, finally watched Wicked (!) and yes most importantly am the proud mater of a bouncing baby brat- hereafter lovingly referred to as BBB/le bambino who has gurgled, kicked, punched, pushed and pulled her way in to every possible space J

Which brings me neatly to my last theatre experience- Kalumaali.

Considering the raw material used by de Chickera for the script, it comes as no surprise that the play as a whole was quite outrageously one-sided and loudly feminist. That being the said premise of KM, a long harangue on the injustice to males would be admittedly be unfair. That being said though, shouldn’t the reading- ‘Cast as Mother’- which took place a few months ago, I hear- have brought out all the feminism once and for all? For a complete play, there was a lack of balance which could have been fixed in the duration of nearly three hours.

To a newly-made mother though (and I suspect to mothers of all ages), the play did speak loud and clear, taking us through the fulfillment that parenting brings and yes, the frequent potholes and anxiety attacks.

(As I write this, le bambino who has just discovered the delights of crayon, is industriously adding finishing touches to one of my sketches. Hey, its probably an improvement. Maybe I’ll attach a picture so my readers can judgeJ )

So as is quite obvious now, my usual rants are not too easy with this chubby, giggling, curly-haired little distraction before me. But what I will say is this. One-sided or not, Kalumaali offered some real fodder for second and third (and more) thoughts. Yes, all mothers have had these thoughts before and the fact has been made public enough in literature, drama, television and the works, but not quite like this, and this rather sketchy review is a salute to those mothers out there who voiced their thoughts. I finally have an inkling of where all these thoughts came from. And who knows, Dil’s experience may help me to strike the balance I need one day, and help me realize that while I may be completely engrossed in motherhood, engrossment needn’t be accompanied by a complete loss of identity.

Before I forget, in a moment of sentimentality (these moments are fairly common these days) the production as a whole was stellar- encompassing all that is good about modern theatre- from stunning lighting to a haunting musical score and while the performance was a tad too long and dropped pace and projection at times, it never failed to engage. And that, at the end of all the discussion that has taken place on the subject already (another reason why I’m not venturing into any intellectual discourse), is what matters.

On to the next topic- my beloved Shakespeare drama competition- my entry-point into the Sri Lankan blogosphere. This blogger is sad to report that Shakespeare and le bambino do not mix well. Ten minutes into opening day of the semifinals, baby shows signs of an impending blood-curdling shriek, staring at me as if I’d just dissected her favourite teddy. And then the cute little wretch attempted to scale the backs of LW’s chairs at which I, of course, had a Dil-Kalumaali moment and made a hasty exit with le bambino in tow. Sigh. Safe to say I have a baby-sitter lined up for the upcoming Shakespeare finals, Evita, Rag and the rest so here’s telling y’all that I’m back with my rants for the foreseeable future J

Adios!

And the three stooges saved the day.

Yes indeed, readers. If not for the acting chops of Dominic Kellar, Gehan Blok and Pasan Ranaweera in their three stooges-esque performance at Star of Wonder last week, the Punchi Theatre would have seen an exodus of far more biblical proportions than the biblical journey of the Magi depicted in the play.

The script-writer is one lucky guy, I tell you. How and where else would a script which we would normally expect to see from an adoloscent- and a young one at that- give us a fairly entertaining night? See paragraph above.

The three leads- Balthazaar, Melchoir and Gaspar (as mentioned in biblical tradition) were ideally placed. While the rest of the cast bravely- I repeat, bravely- plodded on with amateurish, wooden and unconvincing performances, the three kings were in a class of their own. Not that this was their best performance. Dominic Kellar's role in the Astounding Krispinsky(?), Gehan Blok's role as Reverend Tim and Pasan Ranaweera's role as the bumbling nitarmasuffering(?) would have undoubtedly posed  more challenge. The difference with star of wonder though, was that the actors had what was- with the exception of a few instances of almost clever wit-a rather pathetic, and lazily written script. Considering the end result where a poker face like moi erupted in giggles at the well timed expressions, reactions and antics of the three, I'd say that was an absolutely superb job.

Unfortunately, some clever soul decided that maybe- just maybe- it would be a good idea to turn the whole thing into some sort of musical without a musical score. Such brilliance.

I was being sarcastic.

No offence to the 'aww' inspiring little sopranos who no doubt did their best. But why for the love of God did whoever it was feel it necessary to bring in a rather genre confused musical trio between acts? Sadly, the singer had a good voice, but it was wasted.

And there we have it. Not too much to analyze. Safe to say that if Balthazaar, Melchoir and Gaspar did in fact encounter Mary Magdalene and Barabbas on their way to Jerusalem, Christ would have in thirty something years time, have encountered a Mary Magdalene who had parkinsons disease and Barabbas would have had arthritis. Oh, and the biblical world would have been trigger-happy. And battling VAT and Customs duties. Puh-lease.

Lost no longer

Yes, I still have aspirations to world dominance. But this queen is no longer lost, me hearties :D Thus, from henceforth I title myself thine friendly neighbourhood she-dog.

 Thanks yaw for all the comments, feedback and views, keep it coming please!

Love,
Me.

Uncomfortably Real? Refreshingly Honest? Nah.

So I've been thinking, 'What If' I never headed over to the Punchi Theatre on Saturday?

What if, indeed. I'd have had several better things to do, I tell you.

 They promised us a slightly pseudo-intellectual, psychological, soul searching experience and good Lord, they had an abundance of vacuous adjectives to describe it in their publicity campaign. But honestly, what was the point of all that drivel if it didn't break some new ground, as extensively promised? What we saw was a bunch of adoloscent smartypants doing their best to make a claim for adulthood by declaring a new level of insight into the psychology of relationships. Balls.

So maybe I sound like a full blown bitch. Granted. What can I say? When the buttons get pushed...

To clarify here, don't get me wrong- I do have good things to say. In an everyday, realistic way the script was well written. It was fairly natural, and as a result, convincing. For the most part it was pleasantly minimalistic and believable- as was the acting at times. Until of course, the lecturing set in. Strange. At 22 years, I am no spring chicken darlings, but I know well enough to know that the adoloscent (for whom the play seemed to have been written) don't appreciate sermonizing, thank you very much, goodbye. Yet young Wasaam Ismail appeared to revel in the ernest preaching a leeetle too much, me thinks. The lady in the psycho-analyst cum matron of purgatory role regurgitated a just a TAD too much hackneyed psychology on relationships. Being in love and loving someone are two very different things-duuuh, newsflash, ding ding ding. If you promise to tell us something we didn't know already or pull us out of our collective comfort zones, tell us something new, por favor.

The acting. Granted, in terms of well rounded characters...lets not go there. But that shouldn't matter, considering the apparent purpose of the play and the subject matter. But geez, don't give us ham and (I overheard this comment and just learnt what it meant :) ) 'polkudu accents'.

There isn't too much else to say, really. Despite the pitfalls, respect to the director/writer for making the attempt. For making a start. Wasaam Ismail is as I said a bit of an adoloscent smartypants but there is some amazing potential there as long as he doesn't fall into the trap of striving to be over-creative.

The creativity part of things was fairly clear- I loved the soundtrack, there were a lot of contemporary, relevant, mood setting and mature choices there. The production was theatrical eye candy- no distracting shifting of sets and dragging of wood on wood, no long blackouts. There was professional simplicity the multi-purpose platforms and the lighting was used to good effect in indicating the emotions of the scenes.

And there we have it. Yes, I was disappointed but there were positives. Hopefully I've redeemed my inherrently bitchy nature :)

Let every eye negotiate for itself...

Just as the disillusioned Claudio of Much Ado About Nothing put it, "Let every eye negotiate for itself, and trust no agent."

The agents in this case being the ever so distinguished panel of judges at the Finals of the Inter School Shakespeare Drama Competition which true to form, was fraught with the usual upsets and nasty shockers. But more of THAT in a bit.

Finally, here is my rant on the proceedings, knock yourselves out :)

How disappointed I was to watch the bored monotony in which the actresses delivered their lines in Twelfth Night by Hillwood College. For that was all they did. I found no diversity of emotion in Viola and little understanding of character in Olivia. How is it possible that in a play like Twelfth Night where you have romance, comedy, dilemma, cross dressing and role play to make things interesting, the performance was as dull as the compere of the show? To remain awake I plugged in my iPod(Thank you Steve Jobs) and listened to Moves Like Jagger. What can I say? It enhanced the performance!

Considering that Taming of the Shrew was handled by the same director as that of Twelfth Night, I kept my headphones on. But I took them out again in ten seconds- never did I expect such a different performance from the same director. Predictably, Katherine the cursed donned a blood red Saree as she hopped around on stage screeching away till thy kingdom come. My eardrums will never be the same again, that much is for sure. That being said, I can't dispute the fact that her projection was insanely strong, as was that of the entire cast. In their thirty minute performance, no once did the projection or the momentum lapse. Energy levels were tangible, in comparison to all the other performances of the night where most of the actresses looked disturbingly exhausted. (What do directors do to these kids?) Petruchio lived up to all the accounts we have heard of the performance, never really resorting to indulgent, over-the-top slapstick comedy presented by the rest of the cast. Her performance was everything we would expect of Petruchio- quirky, persistent, crafty, humourous. On the other hand, Katherine's was everything this competition expects of the role- shrill, manic and overdone. While this undoubtedly takes a lot of effort and energy it doesn't put forward any real challenge i acting. In fact it completely masks the other dimensions of Kate- in that she is as witty and intelligent as her husband to be, and because of this the portrayal was lacking in dimension- while staying true to the tone of comedy, it is still possible to bring in more detailed characterization. Why did all performances of Taming of the Shrew fail to do this?

As I said before, Measure for Measure is my favourite of the problem plays. Having watched this performance before, I sat back and looked forward to Newstead's performance. Despite a slight drop in performance compared to the semis, I was not disappointed. A bustling scene in a market place is an unusual way to begin Measure, but it made things interesting. One of the best things about this performance was the attention to detail. Without any hysterics , the opening dumb-show effectively depicted the lawlessness in Vienna (as per that little post threesome scene!) and Angelo's reaction to it. Clever. Disappointingly, the projection dropped slightly at times, as did the pace of the play. Being a drama without many climax scenes, the play suffers when the pace lags- it needs continuous back and forth, back and forth dialogue. Nevertheless the acting and direction was solid- Isabella's character showed some definite improvement, and the acting of the main roles was strong. It was great to see that the excerpt somehow managed to capture all that is important in Measure- the subterfuge, the hypocrisy, the schemes, the complexities of character. All in all, the most visually pleasing performance of the competition.

In terms of overall acting- of the main roles and the supporting cast, St. Bridget's was the strongest by far- no overacting and oodles of poise. But why, why did the cast/ director mar what was at the semis a clean, solid performance with the painfully over-symbolic dancers/ spirits? The skin beside my fingernail is still scarred where I bit it in absolute frustration. Avatar-esque figures are redundant. Amateurish. Indulgent. Leave aside this faux pas and the acting was sound. Iago was absolutely stunning. Othello had improved by leaps and bounds since the semis. The performance looked good. It maintained momentum. But oh dear God, those figures in black. Eek.

Day Two. Reeling from the shock of the results of the previous night (I have an opinion on that which I will give, never fear, I have not forgotten) and once again armed with Mr. iPod, I awaited the performances by the guys.

Taming of the Shrew from Ananda College was cleverly directed. Here, unlike the other performances of Taming I sensed some interiority in Kate, which was a refreshing change, Like Girls' High School, these guys localized the play, and unlike GHS, made good use of colloquialism to make sure that the change of context did in fact make sense. Here too there was the occasional sense of indulgence in slapstick, crowd pleasing humour but thankfully too much. The reactions of the support cast were particularly good in this play- the actors didn't look like the were responding to practiced cues but genuinely partaking of the action. Unfortunately the pace lagged several times, which took away from what was otherwise, a strong performance.

On to Coriolanus. I sat precariously perched on the edge of my seat as I watched a confident, arrogant and yet occasionally vulnerable Coriolanus pull off his portrayal with spectacular ease. Every moment of his performance was genuine, well paced, well thought out and insightful. All the potential of the play- which is usually not exploited very well- was harnessed by Caius Martius (Coriolanus) who was well supported by the portrayal of Senator Agrippa. Once again this was a classy performance- great costuming, set and lighting. The only glitch was the occasionally weak ensemble cast from whom a little more in terms of reaction was expected.

In torment, I watched the minutes tick on languidly during the performance of Othello by St. Benedicts. What a criminal waste of a good concept and a good context. For such a daring concept to work, the acting has to be absolutely spot on. Yet Othello was indifferent only cutting an intimidating figure as he stood at middle stage point, glowering stonily at the scene before him. Once again, Iago lost the plot, with absolutely no apparent understanding of the character he was portraying. But, I stand by the fact that given better actors, that performance could have been a winner.

Thankfully, St. Thomas' underplayed the chaos ever so slightly in comparison with their performance at the semis. Petruchio was even stronger than before, putting up an easy, polished performance. Overall, the performance was distinctly more slick than before, complemented by a very apt soundtrack.But once again the performance fell into the cliche slapstick trap and though it has the audience in fits- is the laughter of an audience the only criteria in the judgment of a great performance?

Which brings me to the judges. First we are made to wait for an annoyingly long time before we are graced with their presence on stage, and then we are lectured to about sonography. I beg your pardon, ladies and gentlemen, but what. the f*** is sonography? How does the use of "the reflections of high-frequency waves to construct the image of a body organ commonly used to observe fetal growth or study bodily organs" (freedictionary.com) have ANYTHING to do with drama? Did Mr. Danziger get out on the wrong side of the bed that morning?

Well, obviously. I mean to say, how are we as the audience/ members of casts to expect quality and justice in judging if the judges' vocabulary and understanding of drama appears to be monumentally flawed?

This I am told, is the norm at Shakes. I have said this in comments on my other rant- why do schools stick with this "sufferance is the badge of all our tribe" attitude and fail to protest? What would happen to this thirty something year old competition if the schools were to band together and opt out of the competition until a more genuine attempt is made in bringing in some more qualified judges?

React, Ye Viewers!

Just as the Facebook 'Like' and the 'Lol', both diplomatic reactions which come handy when the viewer doesn't feel too vocal, I have taken the liberty, nay, done my readers the kind service of enabling reactions to my posts in order that time taken in composing "bravo' or 'I hate you' comments, can now be saved.

Of course, some of the reactions are not as diplomatic as the aforementioned Like and Lol but heck, diplomacy is boring:)

So, my darlings, start reacting.

Love,
Me

To the Shakespeare Dramatists...

Dear Shakespeare Dramatists,

Today and tomorrow, you will battle it out at the much awaited finals of the competition.

As of now, you are no longer young actors/ actresses from schools, striving to prove a point and justify your position in a competition. You are citizens of Rome, Venice, Padua, Illyria, Vienna (depending on your play) Whether you speak or not; whether your audience learns your story today or not, all of you have your story to tell- thirty minutes in which to be watched as you live a small part of your life. Live your character. Connect with the people around you. Connect to the people watching and listening as you tell your story. We will pay attention. Make sure you do yourselves proud in order that although this is- after months of rehearsing- the final time you will get to perform your particular drama, we will all remember how you represented an authentic slice of life on the stage.

Break a leg; may the best team(s) win.