- this is right turn; wrong universe -

Hrm. More being conflicted about kick-ass girls in pop culture?

I'm distracted (and wibbly) from sending off a short essay to the Globe & Mail for review and submission to the "Facts and Arguments" section (wish me luck!) so let's keep this to pros and cons.

PRO: Sucker Punch looks gorgeous, stylistically. The world itself (particularly the fantasy ones, but the Gothic insane asylum as well) is epic-looking, and let's face it: dragons and zeppelins and huge mechas = wow. Colour me there.

CON: However, the content is thematically triggering. Domestic (and other) violence, particularly towards women, is a difficult thing to bring effectively to the screen without sensationalizing it. Zach Snyder (300) is not known for his sensitivity, and some of the things in that trailer (all two minutes of it) had me twitching. Using a painful past as a motive for kicking ass and taking names is one thing, but...

PRO: In an odd way, this is a buddy/escape movie with female leads. Which is a very odd concept. But it's also one of the first movies WB's put out in a while with female leads.

CON: Just because a movie has female leads doesn't mean they will be good female leads. Plus, the gender politics in this movie are likely going to have me tear out my hair. The lead character's nickname is Babydoll. Though, what with the ponytails, it's fitting. Besides, if The Outsiders could get away with really bad nicknames, maybe I should cut these girls some slack? Maybe. I'm sure that "Soda Pop" and "Ponyboy" sounded just as ridiculous back in the day.

PRO: I'm digging the older characters who seem mentor-like (the general; the sage; the dance instructor/madam). It'll be interesting to see where they're taken.

CON: The voiceovers (and possibly the dialogue) don't sound very well-written/acted; moreover, it's cliched, and in some cases, borrowed (quoting Alexander Hamilton? Really?)

PRO: In the wake of all the prison-break shenanigans/ burlesque/ explosions/ alternate-reality-worldbending/ general badassery, that may not matter.

CON: Sometime after my retinas have recovered from all the flash and bang, bad dialogue still rankles.

PRO: How often do girls get to fight dragons and bend worlds and break out of prisons in movies, never mind in the same one?

PRO: I've been coveting that title font since the first time I saw it.

PRO: The concept art on the website is nifty and very Alice-in-Wonderland (which this movie seems to want to be a very, very dark version of); the English major in me is trying to decode symbolism/spoilers from the little details.

CON: I suspect I will dislike the protagonist, but am hoping and thinking that the secondary cast will make up for it. (Hey, this theory worked for Lord of the Rings...)

PRO: The costumes, while definitely playing to some major tropes (aviatrix, schoolgirl, medieval babe) look solidly designed and might even pass the Sydney Bristow test. (Read: even though the outfits look like they might have been designed by Tetsuya Nomura, the characters look like they would be able to move/run/slice-and-dice giant mecha in them.) And one of the team is actually wearing pants, which almost deserves its own "pro" point. If there's an actual reason behind why each character gets the world/costume that they do beyond "this is your imagination, oooo", I suspect I will forgive this movie a lot.


That's about where I am for now; looks like the "pros" have it, although not without reservation. We'll see where I am next March. ^^


♥music of the moment: must be dreaming

- and your sanity and wits, they will all vanish, i promise -

...oh, Glee.

You can be so cute and sprightly and funny and fun. Refreshingly, your body count is a lot lower than the rest of my current viewing cadre (Bones, Dexter, even Chuck... and let's not get into the whole "HOLY LEVIATHAN, THE WORLD, IT HAS BLOWN~!" first episode of Battlestar.)

Your kids can sing, and dance, and make rousing and bratty speeches that sound like things I've said/wish I could say, and I like some of what you have to say, even if it's all muddled up sometimes. Whoever writes for Burt Hummel is love. Pure and simple. And this whole Artie/Brittany thing had better get a second chance.

And okay, so I raised my eyebrows at your pretty-close-to-copying Yael Naim's version of "Toxic" for the Britney episode, and didn't tear up over Kurt's Beatles cover (maybe because I felt it was better applied by Prudence in Across the Universe), and given, your kids are out of costume (well, mostly, and in more ways than one) and they ARE off the set, and maybe this is the universe balancing out for much upcoming shirtlessness in the Rocky Horror episode...

...but I'have to admit I head-desked at GQ's American Apparel-izing of two of your leading actresses.

Just, UGH. The shots are unoriginal, tacky, shot by someone whose career decisions are sketchy at best, and show little of the characters (if that's who they are meant to be portraying, I'm disappointed that nothing is made of the fact that Quinn and Rachel are enemies, though mind you, a catfight in lingerie raises an entirely different can of worms for the throwing.)

On the upside, props to the actors who play Mike, Mercedes, Brittany, and Tina for wearing purple today in support of Spirit Day, and to everyone else out there that showed support today.

- stranded in june, whistling the same old tune -

Just a thought, phrased in refrigerator magnets:




...well, everything but the last line is mine; I'm pretty sure that the line "the sky is yours" is almost the best thing about Jason Mraz's song "I'm Yours". XD

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♥ music of the moment: get some sleep

- you take the good and all the bad that comes with me -

It's good, sometimes, to remember that life is beautiful.

(I can say, authoritatively, that job hunting is anything but.)


So here's three kinds of beauty.

The mess to the left of this is (or more correctly, was, yum) my very first poutine. Somewhere in my teens, I came to the realization that I'd never had poutine before, and neatly managed to avoid it until I could get to Montreal and try the real thing.

(Plus - cheese curds plus gravy plus fries, while awesomely delicious, is not something that one can eat all the time!)

It turned out that on our trip to Montreal for the Osheaga music festival (and to visit N and P), M and I stumbled across a little place called Frite Alors! ... and promptly sat down, ordered a pint and a glass of Boreale Rousse, and what turned out to be about five pounds of fries. We went for the 'Frite Alors! poutine', which had mushrooms and onions and red peppers, so it wasn't traditional per se, but it was delicious - and impossible to finish.


The next shot looks like it belongs in a bright video game - almost like the fire flowers from the Mario franchise. I think it's a type of thistle, and Mom and I came across it near Lake Manitoulin, in Saskatchewan, where we had detoured en route to Central Canada. (I have to learn not to call Ontario "Eastern Canada" near anyone who was born/raised here. ^^;;)

You might not be able to tell, but this thing is HUGE. I'd say that each blossom was at least two inches in diameter, and the stalks came up past my knees - fortunately, their spines were easy to see and avoid.

It's a curious corner of the world - in so many ways, forgotten by time (though Lake Manitoulin is still flocked to by busloads of folks who believe in its healing mineral properties, and apparently hosts a healthy population of sea monkeys in its depths...)



This last shot is of a monarch butterfly in the "incubator room" of the Wings of Paradise conservatory in Guelph. M and I traveled there on a cloudy day and proceeded to forget that the nap index was very high for the day - and fill up our memory cards as we chased around the butterflies. Some were so fast that their wings left nothing but the memory of their movement once our photo had been taken - colourful blurs of rusted orange and neon green.

Fortunately, this little guy (or girl)'s wings were still drying out after being encased in a chrysalis, and so was a very cooperative subject. ^_~

Finding beauty. Sometimes it's half the battle.

October's been a really rough month, but I'm hanging in there, and hope that you're well (and love to hear from you!)

Starry nights. ♥



♥ music of the moment: take me anywhere

- life is too long to be a whale in a cubicle -

I think Andrew Bird's got it right - life is too long to be a whale in a cubicle - but on the upside, M and I seem to choose interesting cubicles! We left for the Niagara wine region with a troupe of M's coworkers this past Saturday, giving me a chance to meet new and very cool people, travel to a new part of the world, and drink new wines!

I'm still getting used to regulated liquor boards (and hey, look at that pie chart; 9.7% of the ON liquor trade is illegally-based? Who knew?) instead of the deregulated approach where anyone can open a liquor store - which is good for prices (I miss you, Superstore) and for availability of niche products. But the LCBO focuses on being a responsible retailer; fair prices for suppliers and connection to the community isn't bad, either. Still, the LCBO has to make a living, so several of the vintners who we visited noted they only sell them some of their products, if any.

I found and sampled my favorite icewine to date; the 2008 Stratus Red Icewine. At $40 a bottle, it's worth every penny, but sadly too expensive for my temporarily unemployed wallet. It tasted of late summer evenings; had the scent of raspberries but the tartness of rhubarbs and strawberries (not those store-bought behemoths but the small, tart ones we'd find at our Lake beside the campfire pit; smaller than shirt buttons but with a taste that belied their size) and a whisper of the best clover honey; not too cloying or heavy.

Stratus was definitely worth the visit - the most tech-savvy of the four vineyards we visited, its focus was on being environmentally sustainable with a heavy dose of style; even its processing rooms look like they waltzed off the pages of a magazine. Our sommelier was knowledgeable and clearly passionate about his job; I found it interesting that the vineyard's top wines were created using the philosophy of assemblage; the best of all red or white grapes went into their respective vats to create Stratus Red or White; then, grapes remaining would create single-varietal wines (i.e. Rieslings, Merlots, Gamays).

I loved that every winery had a different feel to it and a different approach to growing the grapes and creating/presenting their wine; from historical to uber-modern; touristy to down-home. Touring the sensory garden and getting to taste the grapes at Rief Estate under the watchful eye of our guide (Pinot Noir grapes were my favorite, although the Gewurztraminer were also tasty) while hearing about the (13!) generations-old history behind the winery was fascinating. I also enjoyed learning about the icewine-making process; part of the reason it's so expensive is that only 7-10% of the grapes yielded are used, as opposed to 70-ish percent for traditional wines. Also, the process sounds pretty chilly and un-fun for the producers. I'm very happy that people put up with it! XD

Similarly, the historical buildings that Ravine Vineyard houses their deli-bakery and tasting room in adds loads of vintage charm. I especially enjoyed the tasting room; particularly sparse and with a rough-hewn bar, it made a beautiful contrast to the delicate if stemless tasting glasses and light, often sweet wines. I surprised myself by enjoying the Gewurztraminer more than the Riesling (both were great, but found the Riesling very sweet), and picked up a bottle on the way out. Our sommelier was excellent: fun, wine-savvy, and unpretentious.

If only her counterparts in the restaurant could have met her level of professionalism, it would have been a perfect visit. Unfortunately, they were reeling from being out their usual coordinator (on maternity leave) and hosting a wedding... and having lost our reservation. When said reservation is for fourteen, that can have a big impact on a smaller establishment. However, their response to the situation was disappointing, lacking in any sort of genuine apology for the oversight (if anything, they seemed disappointed that we stayed around) and the last time I've seen cutlery hurled down on a table and left for us to distribute was...best just to say a long time ago. It was clear they have a well-heeled and well-established clientele, very much of the 'ladies-who-lunch' tier with designer handbags and/or husbands in tow, but it was pretty clear they weren't interested in adding anyone new to said clientele from our treatment. I also made the mistake of ordering their crab cakes, served with a slice of French bread and a hot pepper/corn salsa, which, while delicious, hardly qualified as an appetizer in size. (M took one look at the dish and one look at me when it was set down and asked if I was going to be okay. I smiled weakly and said I would eat slowly.) For the love of cats, starches are cheap! If this had been served with a side of couscous, rice, or pasta, it would be a gorgeous lunch dish. Alternately, fresh-grilled vegetables are slightly more expensive but would give great colour and texture contrast! As it is, I should have known better.

TL;DR: hit the winery/tasting room; miss the restaurant.

We rounded out the tour at Maleta, the smallest of the wineries, where an enthusiastic Quebecois co-op student vintner toured us through four of their wines. I was disappointed that the sparkling wine recommended by Ravine's sommelier was not one of the samples, but their Riesling was refreshing and the setting fun and casual - it felt like being hosted by a friend who happened to know a lot (and be very passionate about) wines. The accompanying cheeses were cream cheeses, instead of, well, cheese-cheeses, as I'd expected, but at that point, it was FOOD. ^_~ My fellow tourers and I also got to see first-hand how much birds enjoy the newly-sweet grapes; anyone traumatized by Hitchcock's The Birds would have been hiding under their chair.

And then it was back to the K-Dubs for us; happily tipsy, very sleepy (the rain helped; as M puts it, "the nap index was high") and wondering just which of the VERY many wineries to visit on our next tour.

I'm leaning towards "Organized Crime" - something with a name like that is bound to be fun. ^___^



♥ music of the moment: plasticities

- there may come a day in which there's nothing left to say -

...but that day is not today. ^^ I'm not sure if a day in which there is nothing left to say is something that computes in my reality. Then again, neither did constructive thought on an Internet article's comment board, and yet.

It happened this morning - I was flipping through Wired after reading an article M sent me on shared bicycles in NYC with GPS trackers that you could rent through your cell phone (there's, as the saying goes, an app for that) when I noticed the heading "Geek Culture's 26 Most Awesome Female Ass-Kickers" and paused.

It's a worthy preface that Emily Murphy was my childhood hero; she stood out because she moved to ensure that women were recognized as "persons" under the law in the province of my birth. As a Canadian child of the 80s, this was both curious - of course women and men were people, that's just what they were! - and frightening - you mean there was a time that women weren't? - but the fact that I saw myself as a person, and those around me did as well means that the cause she fought for had definitely moved forwards.

In some, if not in all media. Over the course of mulling over and writing this post, the idea of gaming as a frontier world/media/escapism has presented itself; perhaps, as one of the last 'boys' clubs' in modern Western society, the metaphor fits.

But not easily.

As Activision (Call of Duty, DJ Hero) faces considerable brouhaha for its "lose the chick" mindset on creating female lead characters for its games, the response ranges from well-thought-out to the horror of "dumb broad, now get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich". Reading through the articles, and particularly the comment boards, is generally disappointing on behalf of the entire human race. The levels of guttural defensiveness and "LOLZ IF YOU PLAY AS A GIRL UR A PANSY" (augh, gender roles/perception = FAIL and that's a completely different post for another time) rippling from those who ID themselves as gamers and even those that ID as developers/writers/programmers ("girl games don't sell!" "there are no good girl characters!" "girl games are pink and sparkly and shit!"**) is scary. At least they're not arguing that there aren't any girl gamers anymore.

Yes, trolls exist, largely to be incendiary mouthbreathers who enjoy provoking the ire of others. But even with trolls considered, this approach by Activision and the gamers' response do little to expand on/improve the public perception of those who enjoy video games and/or identify as gamers, particularly when the story generates enough buzz to land on mainstream websites like the Guardian. And let's face it: the public perception of "gamers" is almost always unflattering.

So this is my challenge to you, gaming world. Open your heads (and maybe even your heart) to the idea of not switching over a cool-sounding heroine to a weak Jet Li-wannabe in True Crime:HK just because GTA is "what sells". Be innovative! I like male heroes, just like I like linguini alfredo. But variety is good - sometimes pad thai is nice! Or take the Fable route and offer both! ...now that's bang for your buck. XD

But. Right. Back to the "26 Ass-Kickers". The list isn't half-bad; it's skewed towards current films/books/comics (I'm pretty sure Trinity and Eowyn could take out Black Widow and Hit Girl without breaking a sweat, despite not making the list) but what was encouraging was the pages (and pages!) of comments recommending other awesome characters, and not disparaging any of the choices out of hand or saying that X male character was way better anyhow. So much so that Wired compiled the comments and made a Voted-In Top 26! I'm pretty sure that fifteen years ago, the list wouldn't be quite as long as it is today.

Everything evolves. Everything changes, over time. I'm hoping that, in a few years, someone will be writing a "26 Ass-Kickers" blogpost about videogame girls - and in the end, as a storyteller myself, I can't wait to see where their stories will take us.



**...as an aside, I have to agree with the statement that most games blatantly "marketed" to Girls Only are awful. But I don't have enough fingers and toes to count girl friends who can more than keep up with our guys as we've grown up from Goldeneye and Ocarina of Time to Mass Effect and Halo; who have level shfiftytenepic WoW characters and balance that interest with an active, successful life; who work in/are affiliated with the gaming industry. I'm a casual gamer at best, myself - I'm more fascinated by the culture because I know I could be sucked right in to the escapism that they offer. I'm looking at you, Bioshock and Final Fantasy.

TL;DR? We girls are out there. Some stats say that girls make up 40% of gamers today, and you can bet your boots though we don't mind seeing the world through Snake eyes (and, okay, might check out his backside on occasion) we wouldn't mind seeing more stories from, say, Joanna Dark. More explosions, complex characters, and twisty plots; fewer dress-spheres, kthx?

- putting up with them wasn't worth never having you -

This is disappointing.

I can't believe (well, I can; I just don't like to) that people who work or volunteer on an amateur soccer board could be so wrapped up in their own affairs and the flow of capital that they'd be willing to bar the doors against thousands of kids and teenagers, preventing them from receiving the medals that they deserved. It's not a good situation, and I haven't researched the reasons behind the infighting too far, but you'd think they could put aside their (considerable) issues for long enough to let the tournament run.

In a past life - why hello there early adolescence - I played soccer until I realised that my teammates could teach Rachel McAdams' Mean Girls character a thing or two. Suffice to say that tae kwon do was a much better match.

So it stings to think that warring board members - whom, one would think, care about things like 'the love of the game' and 'teamwork' - "posted security guards at the office door to prevent the release of medals, trophies, and scoresheets to tourney organizers in St. Albert, Stettler, Three Hills, and Edson."

I've been mulling this story around in my head since this morning, and while parts of it set my teeth on edge, I can't help but grin at the thought of the father who "borrowed" old medals from his daughter's collection to pass on to a victorious keeper or defense, or the Edson residents who rallied and re-modeled old trophies from the Edson Arena to pass to winners of this competition.

To the kids who played through the politics - kudos.

To the parents, refs, and supporters who blew figurative raspberries at the posturing and "went anyways" - good on you.

Do what you can to remember that this (somewhere in there) is still a Beautiful Game.


♥ music of the moment: sitting waiting wishing

- if i am lost for a day try to find me -

When under stress, my mother and I are gardeners. On the morning (this morning) when our neighbour of forever was visited by fire and ambulance trucks, she talked about planting the last patch of garden as I hovered like a Victorian ghost at the front porch, alternately hugging my knees and dead-heading petunias.

My feet are still freezing, though I've moved inside. My parents, a house over and waiting for our neighbour to emerge, were talking with the EMS personnel and told me to go in. To wait (to not hover in my nightgown and a translucent cardigan in the public eye; they are still my parents) - but I obey only partially, feet wandering through the house and out the backdoor, still barefoot, wandering a circuit of my mother's garden and pausing to fortify sweet pea tendrils around a gauzy fence or admire the tea roses I bought her for Mother's Day.

And soon her footsteps follow mine; she is the more dedicated gardener, with "things to do, so she might as well do them" - her words to a neighbour also moved by the sirens drift to me through my bedroom window. I don't think sleep will find me again this morning, but while having pencil in hand and paper within reach may be my truest outlet, I'm learning that it's far from being my only one.


♥ music of the moment: calendar girl
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- to the gentlemen, i'm miss fortune -

HRM.

...I have just learned that Robert Pattinson is to be starring in the movie adaptation of Water For Elephants. (Which is, in case you were wondering, a bit of a beautiful read and a sweet-sour, unconventional love story, and has to do with circuses and old people and not-quite-old-people and language and love triangles and generally a lot of awesome. And was written as part of NaNoWriMo, which gives me, on a completely different tack, hope that my own fumbling efforts at said competition might make something of themselves yet. ^^)

To all of this, I have to say: please don't screw this role up, Vampy.


♥ music of the moment: when you're evil

- didn't anybody tell you ; this river is full of lost sharks -

...it's time to admit it: I'm afraid of Ulysses.

Not so much the myth or the man, but the behemoth novel sitting on the third shelf of my 'show' bookcase.

I dabbled in James Joyce's classic for a class in University; it may have been Irish Lit, it might have been Lit Theory, but I remember looking through the first part of the novel with a wonder at the play on words and space within the pages. Something about its unusual formatting must have stuck with me, as the memory might have tweaked my interest, a couple of years later, with Mark Z. Danielewski's House of Leaves in the surprising cold of Japanese winter.

But it's time to face the original. May 2010 was all about output - I tried to draw and/or write every day of the month, and while I wasn't successful, I sure came closer than I did in the preceding few months. It was a good return. I'm still working on the write-something-you-wouldn't-show-your-parents challenge (aha!); time will see where that goes.

But in the wake of returning from two centres of the universe (Los Angeles: timewarped and well-walked; epicurious, sun-warmed and full of old friends and moon-boy topiaries and new diversions; Toronto: brick and ivy and Singapore-clean in the leadup to the g20 summit; rhubarb jam and Oka in the Financial district and Wit-ty beers in the Distillery; blistering sun, genteel history, family ties, and remembering what the my heart wants) I decided that June 2010 will be about input. Let's see if I can mind-walk those Dublin streets beside Leopold Bloom more successfully this time.


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♥ music of the moment: secret meeting

- all things go, all things go -

I've been surrounded by theatre as of late, and wanting to write about it, but having the time to set down fingers to keyboard seems harder to do these days!

As You Like It is one of the easier Shakespearean plays to get into, and firmly upholds the old chestnut that females in classic fiction/drama must end up mad, dead, or married. Being a comedy, they all find the last of these fates but with very different results.

I felt that while the WWII-era French-Resistance setting had some good points - the shoes! the set, with a nice "Winged Victory" reference, even if it took half of the first act to understand why they went with an "ugly tree"... there were problematic elements. The wartime songs, while providing context, were a director's choice that felt out of place; distancing. They were a good way to segue scenes, but I felt like the singing went on too long - and like I should have brushed up on my French!

And am I the ony one alive that enjoyed but is tiring of "contemporary/ Spacetrooper /West LA/gothic/high school" Shakespeare? Damns, but my kingdom for a man in a toga. Seriously!

Setting issues aside, the show went really well - the laughs from the house were awesome when I watched it last week from my perch in the moat. Touchstone and Audrey were consummate entertainers; the Id of the piece and reveling in every minute, from running around the stage on a vintage bicycle to quipping with a wit that felt contemporary despite its vintage penning, to causing flowers to grow spontaneously (haha, yes. We had to guard the stage from curious bypassers at the end of the show!) They were flirts and follies and maybe their union will only last two weeks, as Hymen predicts at the show's conclusion, but anyone in the audience could guess that those two weeks would be FUN.

Celia and Oliver - well, as the love-at-first-sight couple, they don't have a lot to work with. But I liked Celia; I found her more believable than Rosalind, although both characters seemed so young. (Which they are, to be fair; this is a damn-kids-off-my-lawn~! moment.)

Orlando was well-played; he makes, say, Chuck Bartowski look smooth, but could switch from bumbling and speechless (there's a scene in the first act when he cannot answer Rosalind with anything resembling words that approaches both priceless and well-locked-away memories from middle school) to opinionated and steely.

But the thought that sprouted while watching As You Like It, grew while gawking over the amazing set and mental/physical brilliance of Drowning Girls (which has moved on, after its 99th performance on Sunday; I wish I could have seen it sooner so as to have recommended it) and blossomed as I listened to the brassy-sweet overture of Beauty and the Beast this evening on my seat outside the theatre, after having taken the tickets and counted the stubs, is how much these plays all play on (and with!) the nature of love.

Love, and keeping up appearances.

Rosalind is one of Shakespeare's most beloved heroines, and for good reason - she's smart, resourceful, funny, thoughtful, playful, and at least in the public eye, ahead of her time. (I'm, personally, Team Beatrice, and never mind what I said about contemporary settings because I blame Emma Thompson.)

After her banishment, she takes on a man's guise to protect herself and her cousin - and, while still guised, convinces also-banished Orlando to woo her as herself, although she doesn't look it. Much ado has been made over the fact that they're one of the few Shakespearean couples to have onstage relationship building, and it's witty and fun and, though it's mostly business, even pretending at affairs of the heart gets problematic and the lines between Rosalind and Ganymede blur as the show progresses.

It's interesting to watch who is fooled by her facade; the shepherdess Phebe (played with an almost animalistic alacrity) falls for "Ganymede", where Orlando's older and suddenly repenting brother Oliver sees right through to the girl behind the trousers and conveniently large hat. Orlando himself is somewhere in the middle. (This is the point at which I wish I'd kept up with my literary theory, but it's midnight on a weekday, so sparing all concerned, the play says nothing so much as it says that love is never the same twice.)

Love at first sight can work, but it can also be more surprise than you can handle when you dig past the first layer - whether it is a discovery of psychosis (as it is in Drowning Girls) or that the man of your dreams is not so much a man after all. (Or, for that matter, if we're talking Beauty, a Beast. (Oh, Rejean Cournoyer. ♥)


On a completely different note, if you ever have the chance, go see DG. It's a fast-paced, brilliantly choreographed piece of theatre with vintage bloomers and a haunting voice... and a splash zone. I kid you not. The front row of the Rice likely got more than they bargained for! The three actresses have organic synchronicity as they whisper and sing about the man (the same man) who looked perfect on the surface but who seduced, then married, then insured, then murdered them. It could be trite; it could be preachy; it could be entirely tragic, with this source material (which I believe has grains of, if not is based in truth) but there's more than enough dry, dark humour to keep the script from being weighted down like the vintage wedding dresses that the Girls adorn midway through the play. The physicality of the play also helps - the choreography/blocking/combination thereof is an effective mix of vaudeville and almost Gothic imagery, with a frisson of sensuality and otherworldliness. To this day, I'm not certain how they weren't sliding all over the stage, between the running and the dancing and the hopping-on-one-foot-to-get-into-a-stocking, on a stage covered in water! But that's all part of the magic.

For now, though, I've got some sleep to get to. Take care, and stay warm! (I'm trying to forget the blizzard outside my window; it's MAY, Mother Nature!)

♥ music of the moment: chicago
(where was I three years ago when this was being released, and why wasn't I aware it was awesome?)

of course your lover dreams - just don't ask about it.

A question arose while waiting for The Erotic Anguish of Don Juan to begin at the Roxy Theatre- how can you create a story of the (self-professed) world's greatest lover with only one woman in the cast? Moreover, whom, for the better part of the play, is lit with shadows, silent, and androgynous in dress? (She also portrays a demon, but before the English lit theory textbooks come whipping out, everyone on stage is some kind of demonic.)

The answer, at least to the Old Trout Puppet Workshop, is puppets.

Lots and lots of puppets, expertly carved and not nearly as static as they seemed at first glance, from the tiny cherubs on the crown of the setpieces (four massive, double-sided wardrobes that spun dizzyingly across the stage over the course of the play and transformed into everything from a taverna to an angel) to the disembodied arms and legs that summoned Don Juan from his first love to the nine hundred and ninety-nine women who were to follow. And the puppets work together; as the play progresses, it becomes easier to see what the puppeteers want you to - the dance sequence of temptress/barista Eva is something that has to be seen to be believed.

The story goes that Don Juan has been trapped in hell for the past five hundred years, strapped into what could be a confessional booth with a particularly pretty window - and more directly, a chastity belt that is a slightly more chain-mail version of the one from Seven. He's been given a night's reprieve to tell the audience his story, and casts his jailors as key roles along the way. Plays within plays are a common theme this Roxy season - and used to chilling effect in the season opener The Woman in Black - but is no less effective here.

There's plenty of laughs and sex (after a fashion) and fourth-wall smashing; Don Juan falls in love with audience members and quips at them throughout the narrative - he tells the sound folks to "play the sad music" and at one point, he incites the audience to orgy. I didn't move; I was sitting beside my mother. (...who was, fortunately, laughing, though she noted that perhaps this wasn't the safest choice for the week prior to Easter.)

But despite the wooden limbs and masks, this confused Pinocchio has a good heart and a roguish grin, and it's more than enough to keep you interested in his story.

- et je t'aime un peu plus fort -

...okay, so it's not a pure-out happy song, and the video is twee even by my standards, but Coeur de Pirate makes me want to re-learn French. ^^;;

In other news, my world is tilting merrily on its ear.

(On the upside, I have internet? ^_~)

M's moved in, and I like it. It's different, sure, and no doubt there are going to be days when we both are going to want to dangle each other off the balcony from our housecoat-strings, but we're looking forward in the same direction, to paraphrase Antoine de Saint-Exupery. (or, at least, I believe that's his name.) And maybe that's part of what love is, the planning and the dreaming and the baking of bread and mixing of pasta sauces.

We'd better be looking in the same direction - our feet will be taking us no short journey in the next two to four months!

But as he'll be home any minute and our feet in the nearer future will be taking us grocery shopping (planned meals, what are you again? ^_~) I had better sign off and find some socks - this cold's got to go!

I hope you're well; stay warm. ♥

♥ music of the moment: comme des enfants

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