Macbeth

So I'm trying to respond to Rupert Goold's Macbeth starring Patrick Stewart. I write that very purposefully, because I think in part some disappointment comes from the fact that it was Rupert Goold's Macbeth starring Patrick Stewart. When I think we were expecting (and had been told as much by the press and by BAM) Patrick Stewart's Macbeth directed by Rupert Goold. This production could have starred anyone. What's puzzling to me is why Mr. Goold chose Patrick Stewart to play Macbeth, and why Mr. Stewart accepted.

A lot has been said about Mr. Goold's "concepts." I, for one, don't mind concepts, director's theatre, what have you. The antipathy against it in this country is baffling to me. But my entire desire to direct is to avoid the stage -- I don't have to do it, only the actors do. In that vein, concepts are fine -- as long as they excite and engage the actor, because that has to happen before the actors can do as much for the audience.

In this case, I felt that some of the conceptual flourishes didn't exactly work (ie: the now-it's-here, now-it-isn't cabaret; the quasi-Eastern/Eurasian anthem). But I think overall the concept was, if not entirely novel or fulfilling, tremendously exciting. And I think, at a certain point, the actors were excited by it as well. But at some point, the air got let out of the bag.

All through the first act, I felt engaged -- but by potential, not by the real. By the second act, it was clear that potential was not to be realized that evening. Almost all of the cast, from Mr. Stewart down (as is often the danger of being "led" by a star) seemed exhausted.

But to whom can we attribute the "bloodless, lifeless, listless" nature (per Mia) of the performance? A clever director? A puzzled cast? A bad director? A bad cast? Did something suffer in the transfer from Britain, just in the lag of time?

To me there were three major issues that crippled this Macbeth, none of which can be easily parsed out to actor, director, designer, playwright (ha!), whomever:

1) Length and pacing

Macbeth is Shakespeare's shortest, and probably fastest, play. No one ever needs a three hour Macbeth -- at least not a relatively traditional presentation of the script. Cut that motherfucker up.

I didn't mind some of the re-arranging. I didn't mind some of the little cuts here and there, except when they seemed made to "clarify" -- ie: the king Duncan says, "From hence to Inverness, and bind us further to you" before he accompanies Macbeth back to his home. In this production, Duncan says, "From hence to Glamis, and bind us further to you." Perhaps this underlines that Mackers is the thane of Glamis for the dim ones out there who didn't pick up on it.

But it doesn't work -- Macbeth has only been thane of Glamis for a few short hours, or days (since a comrade's death in battle) -- "By Sinel's [the previous thane of Glamis] death I know I am thane of Glamis/but how of Cawdor?" he asks the witches. He would not reside in Glamis either ever or at least not so soon after having such an honor conferred.

Don't underestimate your audience. But don't bore them either. Illuminate. Accomplish that and "clarification" won't be necessary.

The pacing of the second half was especially deadly -- and not in a good way. You could have commandeered the fucking Titanic through some of their pauses. Granted the last scene of the fourth act (Malcolm and Macduff) all the way through the end of the play is not easy to pace, especially those last battle scenes constantly cutting between the good guys and the bad guysssssssssss -- no, it should be guy. Only Mackers, we need to see his isolation. Even Seyton shouldn't be thrilled about this turn of events, but once Lady M is dead, needs to try and get the fuck out of there. But this Seyton, who also urinated (literally) all over the excruciating and excruciatingly unnecessary Porter scene, seemed straight from hell and more bent on victory than our tragic hero himself.

All told, the life was sucked out by strange (sometimes deliberately so) pacing and by complete allegiance to the mostly complete text. I don't know if it's the American in me, but I don't need (or want) all of it. Let's hit the highlights in the here and now, and parse out the text in class, thank you.

2) The concept as concept

I have no problems with concepts. To me, a concept is merely an attitude taken toward the play, extended however much one pleases. Talk of concepts/styles/whatever as "getting in the way of the play" infuriates me, as does talk of how a play works on its own, let it come from the script, etc. That's all well and good, but that's STILL a concept. Not to mention, for the overwhelming majority of plays, it leads to sucky theatre. Not sucky plays, but sucky fuck-ass theatre. The two are quite different.

In Macbeth, however, there seemed to be the idea of the concept...as concept. What was it particularly about Stalinist Russia and slasher films? I do hate hate hate moving things to different time periods and trying to draw complete and useless parallels; that to me is not particularly interesting, or "relevant." Whatever relevance occurs to an audience member happens because there are human beings onstage. I go much more for the expressionist, stripped down, essentials look -- in that kind of BAM Harvey Theater situation. In our current Mackers, it's about exploiting the space. I didn't feel their set exploited the space.

In this case, the Russian re-orientation was an interesting starting point that wasn't well-articulated. I thought it was going to sort of decorate an ultimately stripped-down point of view, but no universality shown through. To me the video was an obstacle, using photo and film footage to dictate absolutely the re-setting, instead of letting what was already onstage spin out into our imaginations.

I don't know if the actors didn't "get" the concept, if they didn't like it, if the director didn't communicate it well enough, but it seemed to me there was a real disconnect between the actors and their performances with the physicalized concept of the production. That disconnect was not interesting (as it can sometimes be). At any rate, the concept failed to engage the cast first, and if they're not engaged fully, we won't be. In this case, the concept was the "concept" -- it didn't mask the text, per se, but it led to this jarring discord between the actors, the text, the production, etc., that didn't coalesce into any sort of fulfilling event. It neither disappointed nor surprised my expectations: it underwhelmed.

3) Wrack

There was a lack of wrack in this production.

Blow, wind! Come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back!

There was no invitation to the sheer destructive force of specified theatre. There was no sense of "bring it on, motherfuckers!" There was no recognition of the insurmountability of the text, and the great disturbed heart at its center.

This Macbeth was accomplishable, scaleable, doable, and only marginally exciting. As Mia pointed out, Mr. Stewart was playing the ending from the beginning. There was no thrust, no jump off the cliff, no "we're all in this together, so 'come, wrack'!"

Mia: "The Emperor's New Clothes...I mean Macbeth, is moving to Broadway. So six weeks worth of Lyceum audiences can congratulate themselves for being so cultured." Exactly. The production lacked danger; did not strike; refused the audacity that the play itself offers to its cast and crew to ask its audience some inscrutable, nasty questions. It was one of the more scrutable, explainable, and polite Macbeths I've known.

And in the chance circumstances where one couldn't explain -- after the second time P-Stew crumpled a cigarette, the man behind me threw up his hands and said, rather loudly, "Well, I don't know what that's supposed to symbolize!" -- one really didn't care, because nothing offended or arrested you deeply enough to question it. And if there's any one play to question, it's the play that points a finger at the audience and says, watch what one man can do -- and for two hours (preferably), you are unable to stop him.

------

For an extraordinary giving and fulfilling alternative, please see Passing Strange at the Belasco Theater (believe it or not) on West 44 Street at 6 Avenue. And tell everyone you know to do so as well.

When I think of more, I'll try to re-phrase more clearly. All best --

..., or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bard

For everyone's benefit, from our producer Mia:

"The Emperor's New Clothes"...

...I mean Macbeth, is moving to Broadway. So six weeks worth of Lyceum audiences can congratulate themselves for being so cultured.

For all of Goold's referencing Stalin and horror movies, this was bloodless, lifeless, listless. Unfortunate in a play that is about high passion, a play usually associated with the destructive seductiveness of ambition and power. They had an opportunity for a plausible new take. An older Macbeth, whose ambition could be said to be in a state of constant languish because of: 1) an inability to put himself on the line, politically; 2) a resistance to intellectual strategy - he does better with strategic warfare; 3) provinciality; 4) lack of imagination; 5) childlessness - no heirs to bequeath a kingddom to and he's too old to make babies; 6) he's too old. Then Lady M has reasons: 1) she's bored; 2) many opportunities for greatness, all passed up, and she's not gonna let another one go to waste; 3) something's not adding up: hubby is heralded warrior, great in bed, but flaccid when it comes to self-advancement/self-improvement. OR he's a great warrior, a poor lover, and her saying he is manly in bed is just stroking -- she'll crown whichever of his heads she can; 4) she really cares for him and wants the best for him and she'll get it for him because he can't do it for himself because he's too old; 5) she can't cope with the age thing and she's off her meds.

I do think Stewart was having an off night, but man, this was how I was taught NOT to do Shakespeare. So internal with hyper-articulated, sung speech. Shakespeare's characters are smart, think fast on their feet, and have a facility with language. Even the not so smart ones are at least witty or funny in their slowness. All those elongated syllables made me think they didn't know what to say next. When every single word is special, none of them are. Key words, key words, key words, puh-leeeeze!

I couldn't decipher anything resembling the messy things that make human beings so interesting (especially as rendered so expertly by Shakespeare): conflict (internal and external, but always active), a range of emotion, contradiction, fallibility (moral and physical), to name a few.

Stewart played "I bear a charmed life, which must not yield,/To one of woman born" from the get-go. So nowhere to go. Anyway, he seemed to have just phoned it in.

So, all this rant (believe me, it is but a small percentage of my real rant and I'm not subjecting the rest of the Mackers who didn't see the show to it) because of the upcoming work on MacB@McK. The basement, that elevator, the projections, the scene with the intercom, the train, the torture scene -- all became just so many effects and gimmicks, finally tiresome at best and infuriating at worst, because no compelling, grounded thing held them together. Gordon, it's what I meant when I talked about having a really beautiful, but sturdy container for your ideas. The integrity of that container is key, because until you know what it is, you won't know what to put in it.

Over and out. For now.

Mia


---------------------------------------------

I'm still not sure how I feel about P-Stew. The main thing was, it was never mine. It was always theirs.

What's most upsetting is that, in ENgland, everyone goes, of even if I didn't love it, we'll have another major production probably next year, or the next. Whereas here there's always the drive to make things definitive. That's deadly. I don't want our Macbeth to be definitive. I want it to be specific. I want simultaneously for ours to stick with you, but always allow for room for any and other Macbeth ever you may ever see.

The actors weren't all behind Mr. Goold (the director). They let the air out of a lot of it, starting with Mr. Stewart. I don't know if that's anyone's fault. My theory is, here's my idea, but if it doesn't work for you the actor, let's find something that does. It has to be the actor's, ultimately, or it will never get to the audience.

I don't feel entirely as Mia did, but I'm still working that out. Will get back to y'all.

Rupert Goold's MACBETH starring Patrick Stewart TONIGHT at BAM!!!

I conjure you, by that which you profess,
Howe'er you come to know it, answer me:
Though you untie the winds and let them fight
Against the churches; though the yesty waves
Confound and swallow navigation up;
Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down;
Though castles topple on their warders' heads;
Though palaces and pyramids do slope
Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure
Of nature's germens tumble all together,
Even till destruction sicken; answer me
To what I ask you.

Speak.

Demand.

We'll answer --

It's quittin' time!

It's quittin' time!

(Was that offensive?)

I'm quitting at Marsh, the world's largest insurance brokerage (Find the Upside in Risk!). I'm quitting to intern at the Public three days a week instead of two, and there's no point in me staying at Marsh for two days.


Off to Poor City, to find a new job ASAP please!!



Those Oscars....


Good for Marion Cotillard (I guess? I haven't seen the movie)


My fave outfits:

1) Marion Cotillard -- her hair was especially great:



























2) Julie Christie -- I know, I know, those gloves, and those grandma Easter shoes, but her look was ultimately smart and chic and different, not trying to compete with all those other bitches out there. She's tops.





















3) Tilda Swinton -- don't hurt me everyone. I loved her getup. She's a crazy bitch and she totally owned it. The fact that she won only makes the get-up hotter.


























Yay pour les Oscars! I couldn't care too much less. I didn't even see most of them -- I was watching Justin Bond at PS 122, who probably has the best wardrobe of all these ladies:

New plays, an new movie, and an old movie that feels newer than the aforementioned new plays and new movie

New plays (mostly) suck:

Mon night -- reading of a new play at NYU. A "Southern gothic" in the tradition of Flannery O'Connor. It was not a play, it was maybe a movie. It felt like a movie of the week, but I think you could make a reasonably compelling film out of it; if the actors played it totally straight and committed, which they really didn't at this reading. They played so broadly you would have thought you were in the Hippodrome circa 1910.

Tues night -- the Strawberry Festival, with a piece starring our friends Zach Harvey and Laura Harrison. Theirs was by far the most entertaining and least cringeworthy. The first was "Saturday with the Bushes," when George W. and Laura invite George H. W. and Barbara to their weekend place in Kennebunkport, Maine. First problem there -- Kennebunkport is H.W.'s place; W. ain't doin' none of the invitin'. Lord. It just worse -- much, much worse -- from there. Really horrible, unfunny impressions of these people, plus some truly politically offensive, reductive, unfair, and mean dialogue. Physically I could not clap. Next up, something about two guys robbing these priests. They sit around and talk for 25 minutes about whether or not they should kill them; they confess to the priests, as they believe under the law a confession is immune to any case trying to convict them. They don't shoot the priests, they leave, turns out the priests were also robbers dressed in priest get-ups. Just stood there and talked for 40 minutes (but same thing with "Saturday with the Bushes," and that was almost an hour -- it felt like). Third up was a confusing, coy, but not-so-cute reinterpretation of "Jack and the Beanstalk," which featured real acting from the woman playing Jack's mother. And while she went a little over-crazy amongst the other rather smug not-so-compelling actors, I appreciated some actual commitment to her audience.

Finally, "What Cheer, Iowa," with ours friends Zach and Laura. (There was a fifth show, but I could not stay. Sorry.) "What Cheer, Iowa," follows four unfortunate souls waiting to see if their cars have passed inspection. Bad Speech and Debate sketch, but not as bad as the prior three. Zach and Laura were at least entertaining to watch.

WHO CHOSE THESE GODDAMN PLAYS? WHY ARE THEY SO BAD? WHY ARE THEY SO POORLY PERFORMED AND DIRECTED?

The asswipe who produces it is quite full of himself, from the program, which I couldn't bear to bring home with me even. But note to asswipe producers: even if your show is bad, you're doing NO ONE favors by having the show start 45 minutes late. Especially when showtime is (or was) 9:30 pm at night. Jesus Christ!




Wed night -- Paradise Park at Signature Theatre, the last production in their Charles Mee season. I saw Chuck after the show, and he was lovely and we had a nice little conversation. Like Queens Boulevard before it, Paradise Park was poorly directed. With a collage piece (which this was entirely, no real through-line whatsoever), I think you need a director who essentially will be a co-author to the onstage play. This guy just seemed to put up what Chuck wrote, which to me is a beginning, not an end, not a finished product by any means, but a jumping off point. They didn't jump. Really poorly paced; I actually liked a lot of the second half, but it was a tough haul through the first one, which leaves the second half a bit deflated. It was NO FUN at all -- it was like they said, OK, y'all get the Paradise idea, now we're going to show you the dark underside. And of course that's there, and supposed to be, but that's not all the play is. The mood was almost overwhelmingly oppressive, even as the actors (rightly) tried to fight it. I liked the script, I liked most of the cast, and I really appreciated their effort. But they weren't having fun, they were drowning in weird stage business (even as they dealt with the text fairly well, I thought). The design was confusing, ineffective, weird, and not particularly attractive. I got the point of the design when I walked in the theater an hour and fifteen minutes before the show began.

Ugh. Poor Mr. Mee. His shows require a really, really strong director, with a really strong opinion about the piece, even if it doesn't totally work, or it turns people off. I loved Iphigenia 2.0, and I really loved a lot of Tina Landau's very strong direction. Other people did not. But the general consensus was that whether or not you liked the direction the piece took, it was a stronger production and a better representation of what Chuck and his work are about then the watered-down mess that is Paradise Park or the limp Queens Boulevard.

At any rate, I spoke to him for a few minutes afterwards. He had recognized me walking into the theater, which was cool, and we spoke about his show, and I said what a pleasure it was to see so much of his work spread out across a season, and what a thrill that must be for him, etc, etc. And then he asked me what I was doing. And I told him about Mackers, etc. That was really cool and very kind of him. He's a super person in my book.



----------

FILM:

The Savages -- almost precisely what you expect and leaves you none the more pleased about it. Philip Bosco, who plays the demented ill father, is excellent and entirely sympathetic and selfless. Laura Linney and Philip Seymour Hoffman do their thing. Who cares?


Blow-up -- my first Antonioni film. Totally cool. Totally hot. Fantastic. Loved it, would watch it again immediately. Totally not what you expect at all, and leaves you all the more disturbed and satisfied by it. Why can't we make movies anymore (in America) that trust their audiences?? And deal with real sexiness, the kind that comes from intelligence and personal thrust. I felt like the movie was waiting for me to watch it, not telling me I should. That felt good.

Let's sing a song of cheer again

Lohan -- yay or nay? Nyay. Real boobs, though.


Shaved hoohas -- yay or nay? Nay.




I am seeing Patrick Stewart in Macbeth at BAM next week. Excited -- yay or nay? YAY.





Lohan: Why should a woman who is healthy and strong blubber like a baby when her man goes away?


(Making no sense, and no I'm not Marshmellowin' -- I'm Publickin' today!)

Depressed much?

WOW

Sorry for that last post/sorry for my horrible weekend. No more pot for a while, hmm?


Macbeth
April 25 and 26
"Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward to what they were before. "


--------------

This interests me. I feel it, even as I've been all for my Hill-dog.


This interests me: Anti-intellectualism (the attitude that “too much learning can be a dangerous thing”) and anti-rationalism (“the idea that there is no such things as evidence or fact, just opinion”) have fused in a particularly insidious way. Not only are citizens ignorant about essential scientific, civic and cultural knowledge, she said, but they also don’t think it matters. She pointed to a 2006 National Geographic poll that found nearly half of 18- to 24-year-olds don’t think it is necessary or important to know where countries in the news are located. So more than three years into the Iraq war, only 23 percent of those with some college could locate Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia and Israel on a map. (Not mine -- part of nytimes article. Why don't my links light up or something?)

My life

So, my grandmother died, and it was sad. And I'm still sad. I'm sadder now than I was at home at the funeral, at any rate. Which feels weirds. Watched Old Yeller on TV on Saturday and that was kind of upsetting.

I have to get a new job. Even at three days a week at my temp job, I'm done, I'm really done, and I'm also afraid to be found out and fired, as I have no real idea what I've been doing the past 7 months, nor do I care. And I don't do any of the work, really, that I should be doing. But I'm scared of waiting tables. I'm scared to drop something and break a plate.

I haven't directed a show in almost a year and half. I'm freaking out. I'm freaking out. I am so scared of this show, where it's going or not going, how do I control it or not control it. How do I direct it? When so much of this directing feels like it's happening outside of the room? As I've said before, it's the hardest and the easiest thing I will ever do. I'm really, really scared of it this time, and I'm feeling a little bit like my life is falling apart. Not over the show, totally, but I can't seem to get myself in order. I think, really really, I need to get out of this job ASAP.

Public news: Passing Strange is amazing. Also: I don't get to go to the opening night of Passing Strange. That is also really upsetting. What am I doing? Why does it always feel like when someone asks me that question, or when I ask myself that question, that I don't have an affirmative answer? That the answer is always in the negative: Well I don't really do anything. There isn't much for me to do. Instead of, I am doing, there is all this stuff to do, etc. Why does that feel like my life?

I miss my friends:
I would the friends we miss were safe arrived. (Malcolm, who kind of sucks)



Life is a mistake only art can correct. This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall
have my music for nothing.

Told you so, part two

CIA director: Waterboarding necessary, but probably illegal

That's all folks.

Let's pretend we only did it to three people. (Bull)

Let's also pretend it was either a teenager or two two guys they arrested today in Pakistan for Benazir Bhutto's assassination that were them that actually did it, y'all! (And not, hmm, our puppet prince/president Musharraf -- which, said drunkenly I've discovered, sounds like you're ordering Moo Shoo Pork)

Told you so

Too cute:

We Tortured and We'd Do It Again

President Bush would authorize waterboarding future terrorism suspects if certain criteria are met, White House spokesman Tony Fratto said this morning, one day after the director of the CIA for the first time publicly acknowledged his agency's use of the tactic, which generally involves strapping a prisoner to a board, covering his face or mouth with a cloth, and pouring water over his face to create the sensation of drowning.

Olivier Knox writes for AFP: "The United States may use waterboarding to question terrorism suspects in the future, the White House said Wednesday, rejecting the widely held belief that the practice amounts to torture.

"'It will depend upon circumstances,' spokesman Tony Fratto said, adding 'the belief that an attack might be imminent, that could be a circumstance that you would definitely want to consider.



I want to offer up some slightly tweaked song lyrics for that lovely tune Do It Again:

You really shouldn't have done it,
You hadn't any right.
I really shouldn't have let you [strap people down and slowly drown them].
And although it was wrong,
I never was strong.
So as long as you've begun it,
And you know you shouldn't have done it,

Oh, do it again.
I may cry no, no, no, no, no, but do it again.
My lips just ache to have you take
The [drenched, dripping cloth] that's [completely acceptable] for you.
You know if you do, you won't regret it.
Come and get it.

Oh, no one is near,
I may cry oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, but no one can hear.
Mama may scold me cause she told me
It was naughty but then, please, do it again.
Yes do it again, and again and again and again and again.

Turn out the light.
And [tie] me [down on the board] in your arms
All through the night.
I know tomorrow morning
You [might, if I'm lucky] say goodbye and amen.
[Please stop, but because I can't speak, you'll just think:]
But until then, please do it again.

Act it out!

O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptr'd
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again?


Macbeth 5.9.08


Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits.

This is what we're missin'

Thanks to all who came out in the horrible weather for the Mardi Gras bash. That's what it's about, people. What a celebration! Hands down, the best.

Take a look at photos from The Advocate (BR, not the gays!) of the Spanish Town Mardi Gras parade in downtown Baton Rouge. For me it has always been the most fun, most celebratory, most inclusive, most wonderful of all the Mardi Gras parades (though it's Saturday, not Tuesday). Wish I had still been living there when it happened in 06!

Spanish Town Mardi Gras Parade


Sorry I've been out of the loop. Mississippi, grandmother's funeral, etc. Will get back ASAP to movie reviews! Right now I'm watching La Dolce Vita. Marcello Mastroianni is the sexiest man who ever lived. That movie only makes you want to flee to Rome and smoke unfiltered cigarettes and have passionate, romantic, indescribable sex with sad, beautiful people, and run around all evening in fountains, and find life disappointing and unbearable and fantastic all at once -- and do all of these simultaneously!