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Jan. 16th, 2005
Macbeth and Three Furies
Jan. 16th, 2005 09:19 pmI am currently uploading 91 new photos of Sydney including a very detailed visual presentation of the walk from Bronte to Bondi, some more random Darlinghurst stuff, a lot of nature stuff and rainbows of Newtown. I pretty much should be learning lines or vegging back at the hostel right now, but getting photos uploaded takes forever and it had to be done now before it got more out of hand.
So while that's going, let me update on all this stuff that it feels nearly too tiring to write about, especially after walking about five miles today and having sand in my shoes.
My Macbeth performances went really well. The one in the classroom setting (it was in a theater, granted, but it as part of our assignments) went perfectly in every way, and was definitely a big hit even if it felt possibly perfunctory to me, because we'd done it so many times I was starting to get used to the feelings of doing it. The second one, that we volunteered to do at the corroboree was hideously terrifying, because of the size of the space we had to fill up with what is supposed to be a discrete, whispered scene. My lines weren't perfect, but I muddled through in a way that didn't show unless you knew the piece, and people really went for it. There were two big thrills though -- the first was a huge burst of lightening going off during the performance, and the second wasn't the compliments received immediately afterwards but the ones from other NIDA-related people when we were at the Opera House later for the Three Furies. I mean, sure, it was just the thingy and all that, but still, _nice_ feeling to get acting compliments there.
So, The Three Furies. Gawd, this show is so hot. It's about the painter Francis Bacon's relationship with his model George. George killed himself the night before Bacon was proclaimed the greatest figurative artist of the twentieth century at an exhibition in Paris, and this show is a heightened reality look at their relationship and its end.
It's not a linear piece, and contains only three characters -- George, Francis and Tisiphone who channels the other characters, as well as those who never really come on stage, serves as host, sings and dances and is electrifying, haunting and terrifying. On a meta level, I have to think the writer said "this show needs a woman, if not because of the onstage issues, than because of the off stage issues" -- because this is one of those shows you watch and to whatever degree you can imagine what the actors are going through with it, it scares the crap out of you.
The text is profoundly difficult -- switching from performance poetry to the regular conversations that real people have, to eerie memories of other people's childhoods, to strange and nearly Biblical proclamations drawing on a pretty broad range of myth (i.e.:"the darkness saw that it was alone and created a second darknesses, and the two darknesses struggled and then Ahab saw that Jonah had become the whale and he hated him.")
George and Francis aren't likeable people. Francis is an unpleasant, drunk queen. He's also witty, charming, brilliant, and despite his best efforts, utterly capable of love. His first sexual experience was as a child with his uncle, he's a cross-dresser and into S&M.
George isn't likable either. He's such a drunk he makes Francis seem like the head of a temperance society. But he loves Francis desperately, and hates being told over and over that he's only the model, despite the fact that every time Francis says "I hate you" to him its sweeter than most "I love you"'s anyone I know has ever heard. George is always begging to go to events Francis is embarassed to take him to.
There are plenty of exchanges about the nature of the muse. In one Francis tells George, "People will remember you because I painted you." George smiles. Then he says, "But people will remember you because I fucked you." Francis dissolves into laughter that slowly becomes horrifying. In the midst of this Tisiphone rambles in and out of their world, and one point swinging half naked from a chandelier and wearing bananas as she conjures Josephine Baker. The songs have a heavy blues influence, and the band is live on stage, but the pieces are often atonal, and sometimes are meant to evoke cafe life and carnival barkers, such as the recurring refrain about Francis: "he's a hoity-toity artist...." done in an East End accent and prefaced by a jackal's laugh.
There are several gorgeous scenes of our characters walking in slow motion, always the same distance apart, disappearing and repearring through doors, the same doors that sometimes display paintings of animal carcasses or other parts of Francis' studio. At the end of it, we see George in the background, naked, slumped on a toilet, a mass of blood slowly pooling under him, as Francis explains that while he was down there accepting that award, George was up here -- _dying_ -- and alone. And the key word is said so perfectly, it's handled so appropriately and oddly subtlely that both in the theater and in rehearsal it nearly made me vomit.
The relationship between George and Francis is just gorgeously handled, and I feel really nearly awful for the actors having to carry around these characters and their sense of loss doing this show (which is causing all sorts of stir here, mostly good) while trying to handle a really daunting amount of text for a major performance in such a short time frame. Tisiphone is wonderfully integrated into the piece and is never on the sidelines. She serves as conscience, betrayer, savior and seducer, and that it works in the midst of a gay romance and a gay tragedy is really rather remarkable. Both in the rehearsal room and in the theater people were moved to tears by the piece.
Francis' interest in S&M comes up in several places in the script -- without preface -- it's a very matter of fact thing, as we go from one moment to another where suddently he's in leather, on all fours on the floor and is being whiped by George (it's actually a microphone cord from the "cafe" sequences, and it's clearly not making contact and is clearly not supposed to be an illusion but the sound is just right, and the idea that pain is being inflicted just through George's will and misery is interesting). These scenes are emotionally gutting and after spending two weeks in some pretty intense studio processes myself, I find myself saying both "better them than me" and "let me at it". I've always been a relevatory creature, what I wouldn't give to stop having to explain things for a moment and show, like that. Which is I suppose why I'm down here and all that.
Anyway, the piece is phenomenal, and I have no idea if it will ever have life outside of Sydney -- certainly it would do well at the Next Wave festival in NYC, and I've made that noise repeatedly to the staff I know on the thing. I want this to succeed -- I want to own the script and the music. Very transformative, powerful and personal piece for me. And it's strange, being here, where I don't have to (and don't choose to) explain any of that.
So while that's going, let me update on all this stuff that it feels nearly too tiring to write about, especially after walking about five miles today and having sand in my shoes.
My Macbeth performances went really well. The one in the classroom setting (it was in a theater, granted, but it as part of our assignments) went perfectly in every way, and was definitely a big hit even if it felt possibly perfunctory to me, because we'd done it so many times I was starting to get used to the feelings of doing it. The second one, that we volunteered to do at the corroboree was hideously terrifying, because of the size of the space we had to fill up with what is supposed to be a discrete, whispered scene. My lines weren't perfect, but I muddled through in a way that didn't show unless you knew the piece, and people really went for it. There were two big thrills though -- the first was a huge burst of lightening going off during the performance, and the second wasn't the compliments received immediately afterwards but the ones from other NIDA-related people when we were at the Opera House later for the Three Furies. I mean, sure, it was just the thingy and all that, but still, _nice_ feeling to get acting compliments there.
So, The Three Furies. Gawd, this show is so hot. It's about the painter Francis Bacon's relationship with his model George. George killed himself the night before Bacon was proclaimed the greatest figurative artist of the twentieth century at an exhibition in Paris, and this show is a heightened reality look at their relationship and its end.
It's not a linear piece, and contains only three characters -- George, Francis and Tisiphone who channels the other characters, as well as those who never really come on stage, serves as host, sings and dances and is electrifying, haunting and terrifying. On a meta level, I have to think the writer said "this show needs a woman, if not because of the onstage issues, than because of the off stage issues" -- because this is one of those shows you watch and to whatever degree you can imagine what the actors are going through with it, it scares the crap out of you.
The text is profoundly difficult -- switching from performance poetry to the regular conversations that real people have, to eerie memories of other people's childhoods, to strange and nearly Biblical proclamations drawing on a pretty broad range of myth (i.e.:"the darkness saw that it was alone and created a second darknesses, and the two darknesses struggled and then Ahab saw that Jonah had become the whale and he hated him.")
George and Francis aren't likeable people. Francis is an unpleasant, drunk queen. He's also witty, charming, brilliant, and despite his best efforts, utterly capable of love. His first sexual experience was as a child with his uncle, he's a cross-dresser and into S&M.
George isn't likable either. He's such a drunk he makes Francis seem like the head of a temperance society. But he loves Francis desperately, and hates being told over and over that he's only the model, despite the fact that every time Francis says "I hate you" to him its sweeter than most "I love you"'s anyone I know has ever heard. George is always begging to go to events Francis is embarassed to take him to.
There are plenty of exchanges about the nature of the muse. In one Francis tells George, "People will remember you because I painted you." George smiles. Then he says, "But people will remember you because I fucked you." Francis dissolves into laughter that slowly becomes horrifying. In the midst of this Tisiphone rambles in and out of their world, and one point swinging half naked from a chandelier and wearing bananas as she conjures Josephine Baker. The songs have a heavy blues influence, and the band is live on stage, but the pieces are often atonal, and sometimes are meant to evoke cafe life and carnival barkers, such as the recurring refrain about Francis: "he's a hoity-toity artist...." done in an East End accent and prefaced by a jackal's laugh.
There are several gorgeous scenes of our characters walking in slow motion, always the same distance apart, disappearing and repearring through doors, the same doors that sometimes display paintings of animal carcasses or other parts of Francis' studio. At the end of it, we see George in the background, naked, slumped on a toilet, a mass of blood slowly pooling under him, as Francis explains that while he was down there accepting that award, George was up here -- _dying_ -- and alone. And the key word is said so perfectly, it's handled so appropriately and oddly subtlely that both in the theater and in rehearsal it nearly made me vomit.
The relationship between George and Francis is just gorgeously handled, and I feel really nearly awful for the actors having to carry around these characters and their sense of loss doing this show (which is causing all sorts of stir here, mostly good) while trying to handle a really daunting amount of text for a major performance in such a short time frame. Tisiphone is wonderfully integrated into the piece and is never on the sidelines. She serves as conscience, betrayer, savior and seducer, and that it works in the midst of a gay romance and a gay tragedy is really rather remarkable. Both in the rehearsal room and in the theater people were moved to tears by the piece.
Francis' interest in S&M comes up in several places in the script -- without preface -- it's a very matter of fact thing, as we go from one moment to another where suddently he's in leather, on all fours on the floor and is being whiped by George (it's actually a microphone cord from the "cafe" sequences, and it's clearly not making contact and is clearly not supposed to be an illusion but the sound is just right, and the idea that pain is being inflicted just through George's will and misery is interesting). These scenes are emotionally gutting and after spending two weeks in some pretty intense studio processes myself, I find myself saying both "better them than me" and "let me at it". I've always been a relevatory creature, what I wouldn't give to stop having to explain things for a moment and show, like that. Which is I suppose why I'm down here and all that.
Anyway, the piece is phenomenal, and I have no idea if it will ever have life outside of Sydney -- certainly it would do well at the Next Wave festival in NYC, and I've made that noise repeatedly to the staff I know on the thing. I want this to succeed -- I want to own the script and the music. Very transformative, powerful and personal piece for me. And it's strange, being here, where I don't have to (and don't choose to) explain any of that.