The Last Act of Lilka Kadison

On holiday, must do theatre!
Tonight I got my head-in-the-way seat to see Lookingglass Theatre's "The Last Act of Lilka Kadison", a story about an old Jewish woman in America dealing quite literally with the ghosts of the past as she nears death. Naturally this involves facing WW2. Mix in a Pakistani health care worker with musical aspirations and...well, you can barely see the stage for all the cosy, liberal tears in your eyes.
Of the four strong cast only Usman Ally (from TV's 'Damages') was a little too 'theatrical'. Nora Fiffer as young Lilka was fine, if not outstanding. Instead the main acting kudos were divided fairly equally between Marilyn Dodds Frank, playing a sly old Lilka with a constant wink to the audience, and Chance Bone as Lilka's early love interest and upbeat mensch.
It was all too sentimental for its own good, but entertaining nonetheless, and nicely produced. The one fly in the ointment came at the end as the Ark of the Covenant was rolled out. It was not Brechtian distance that was being invoked when it hit a door very noticeably, shattering the suspension of disbelief the show had up to then carefully nourished. A small glitch, but an unfortunate one.
All in all though, a nice evening's serving of chicken soup, even if the main ingredient was schmaltz.

Mr Kolpert

Bertie Ahern put on the grill at the Mahon Tribunal

I had heard that 'Mr Kolpert' tends to divide audiences; you either really hate it or really love it. What has surprised me is that I found that I am somewhere in the middle.

 

Borrowing very heavily from Hithcock's 'Rope', and so from a real life case in the forties, 'Mr Kolpert' puts us in a very unusual dinner party. A young couple, Ralf and Sarah, invite an older couple, Bastian and Edith, over for an evening's entertainment (or as they themselves stress, for their own entertainment). At the outset they claim to their guests that they have murdered the innocuous Mr Kolpert and put his body in a huge trunk that lies at the centre of the stage. The question of have they/haven't they takes up much of the play.

 

Once again the cast is excellent. Every role provides an opportunity to shine (even a small role like the pizza delivery man gives Peter Daly a good turn) and each actor takes their opportunity gamely. Initially I felt Sam Corry was a little too low-key, especially given Fergal McElherron's extrovert turn, but ultimately his understatement heightens the demented quality of his character. Kathy Rose O'Brien and particularly Gillian McCarthy shine in the female roles. The cast's performances are particularly brave given that in the finale, three of the leads are (Shock! Horror!) required to take off all their clothes.

 

Again the story is not original. The message about society's loss of real feeling, and in turn its humanity, is old too. Playing most of it for laughs is refreshing, but sometimes the German humour relies too much on the iconoclastic. I found it fun, but not hilarious. I chuckled, I cackled, but try as I might, the belly laughs just wouldn't come. And when one knows the plot in advance, laughter is essential.

 

And what about that nude ending? As I wrote three actors strip and then cry. They are laid bare in every way, and quite deliberately echo three children caught in forbidden play. It is touching. I was reminded of a quote by the director, Michael Reeves, I posted a few weeks back. In short he claimed that if an artist does not show violence as disgusting and reprehensible, he runs the risk of glorifying it and so behaving immorally. The crying scene points the finger at the immoral behaviour of the play. After all the farce, it reinstates the human.

 

But does it deserve this? Has it earned the right? After all, the play can not be held up as a piece of realism. Can it suddenly inject authentic feeling?

 

In what I can only describe as doublethink, being forced to acknowledge the larger than life aspect of the characters, forces us to expand the scope of the play. In crying for their actions they cry for us, for humanity's loss of value, and feeling. Recognising murder as wrong, and feeling that, should be a fundamental characteristic of humanity. Losing that we lose our humanity. We thus find ourselves in a very dark place, and one in which crying is perfectly warranted.

 

In short, it works. The nudity is certainly not gratuitous.

 

A good play well staged then, and three out of three for the Rep Experiment.

Me, Myself and Identity

Just got a ticket for Guillermo del Toro's new movie, "Pan's Labyrinth", said to be a sister piece to his earlier, "The Devil's Backbone". That movie was excellent in every way, and the reports bode well for this new film too. It will be released here towards the end of the year, but the Horrorthon, on next weekend, is showing it next Sunday, and according to the ticket seller there's only 20 tickets left. A healthy indication of the taste of Irish audiences, hee, hee.

Last Thursday I enjoyed some more choice entertainment, of the theatrical variety that time. My cousin, Janet Moran, is currently acting in the Corn Exchange's production, "Everyday", currently being performed at the Beckett Theatre in Trinity College (their last play, "Dublin by Lamplight", was a great success). The play features a number of different strands involving many, many characters, all interacting over the course of one day. There are no props and each actor, playing multiple roles, performs in a style borrowing from Commedia dell'arte (stylised make-up and pronounced gestures etc.). But don't let that give you the impression that this is inaccessible; the stories are wonderfully realised, the characters very easily recognised and the whole night is wonderful entertainment. There are some elements you could quibble with (for me the Ukrainian strand didn't work so well, perhaps because in contrast with the loquacity of the other characters, this featured a girl who could barely communicate at all), and some stories are a little hacknied, but in such a wide ranging play this is inevitable. Bottom-line this is something to see (I know few listen to me, so Luke Clancy has a review here if you want confirmation).

Afterwards Jan and I went for a pint or two and I very easily got drawn into pontificating about aesthetics and drama etc.. Naturally Hamlet was mentioned (the pinnacle of dramatic art as far as I am concerned), but it got me reconsidering an idea for a play I've long had. I guess I'd better knuckle down and do it.

Having said that plans are just about complete for the next stage of my world travels. November 11th should see me jet off again. I was going to detail the itinerary here, but I have decided to keep you all in the dark and reveal the trip as it happens. Travel shots tomorrow.

Anything else? The chiropodist stood me up yesterday on my return visit. Luckily things are looking brighter on the toe front and I may not need such a visit after all.

[WARNING! Do not read following paragraph if easily offended by philosophy.]
I have started to read some metaphysics again (that's you and your Hegel, Jan! Remember the dialectic nature of three act play????? Hee, hee, hee.). I have a bulky anthology at home that has some interesting general essays. I'm not sure if I see the Identity of Indiscernibles as a major problem for Empiricism's Bundle Theory as the editors put forward. They give the example of a universe where two spheres, each identical in composition, history, etc. revolve. If they are identical how can we differentiate them as different bodies. I'm not going to go into that here, but I will say that I believe the role of the subject is integral to any understanding of separate entities with identical properties (we will always posit them in relation to ourselves, hence a spatial element is always involved). Yeesh! Give me a break; I get carried away sometimes.

From the sublime to...De Palma's "Bonfire of the Vanities". Reviled on release, De Palma's adaptation of the Tom Wolfe novel was on the other night. I had seen it a long time ago, but since then I've read the excellent "The Devil's Candy", and have wanted to view the movie again in light of that account of its making. Anyway it is recorded and I'll view it later.

Today has been biblical. I went through a flood, encountered a man memorising Ecclesiasticus and then met God! And the day wasn't even over!

One thing I have regretted over the last few days has been the lack of theatre I have attended. i tried to redress the balance today by going to "The Unsinkable Clerk". Dreadful title, but in the "Skinnyfest", a free review guide, it was highly recommended. Rightfully so. Mr Plumbly wakes up one morning to find his orderly existence thrown out of kilter by an unexpected flood. He encounters Poseidon, then Jonah (who sticks around), is 'saved' by a ghost ship, escapes sirens before finding his Paradise island. The cast of hundreds is actually comprised of only two and in a very pantomimic way, they do an excellent job. you have to feel for poor old Plumbly who really does like the mundane life (or thinks he does). The play ends on as strange a note as the play demands. Strange, but very entertaining.

Looking through the daily guide published by The Guardian, I saw that I could make "Fahrenheit 451", an adaptation by Ray Bradbury of his own novel. I loved the film, and the play had been reviewed favourably, so I gave it a shot. Unfortunately there was much shouting masquerading as emotion and given the simplicity of Truffaut's film version, I found this a little cluttered. For those of you unfamiliar with this great story, it tells of a (near) future time where books are banned and Firemen, rather than put out fires, set books alight. One fireman gets curious.... It is a great story, but I wasn't jumping up and down about the performance. Anyhow without giving too much away (except the ending), he takes a bit of a shine to the Book of Ecclesiasticus. Interesting.

Now we come to the event of the whole festival, well almost. First I managed to get a ticket for "Dr Ledbetter's Experiment". One left. As it happens I already had a film ticket for the same time slot, but I wasn't looking forward to the film ('The Treatment') and as a horror buff, I was curious about the play and the venue (the location of all those body autopsies that kept Burke and Hare in business). So sorry, but that took priority. Nevertheless I still had to go to the cinema to attend a discussion by two game developers (Velvetelvis) about digital convergence, particularly with respect to movies and games. I was running a little late, but managed to get out there with ten minutes to spare. As i walked to the entrance a woman got out of a black taxi saying, "We're rushing for a film". She was followed by a tall, balding man with a moustache and white hair. I guess I was in a dream world, because I managed to stand on my feet as I realised it was Sean Connery.

Now let me give you a little history. A long, long time ago I attended a script writing summer school whose patron was Gregory Peck. Gregory Peck, very old, but upright and still with that voice, came to visit us and give us a "conversation". He showed us clips from "Moby Dick" etc. and related anecdotes form Hollywood. Afterwards many got up and shook his hand. I was too shy. I felt he didn't deserve to be bothered by us, that it was enough to have been in his presence. Nevertheless it has bothered me ever since that I never got to shake the hand of the star of "The Omen" and "Spellbound".


That's Sean Connery, honest!Now I felt thoroughly ashamed of bothering Mr Connery, but the memory of Gregory Peck haunted me. Naturally my phone wouldn't switch to camera quick enough to catch a proper shot of him; he was storming through the foyer. He was obviously trying to get into the cinema before anyone noticed who he was. Nevertheless, I ran up and got right beside him as he strode (me running still). He looked very stressed, well okay, annoyed and he is very intimidating (I am short, but he is TALL). Nevertheless I had to say the corniest, stupidest thing I could honestly say; "Mr Connery, I just wanted to thank you for all those films over the years". He gave me a slight side glance. I didn't know if he was going to ignore me or flatten me. He gave a gruff, under the breath, "Thank you" and strode on. I didn't have the heart to bother the man any more, but I found myself shaking like a leaf. I have met celebrities in the past and really they don't faze me one bit; they're just people. Some of them (like Terry Gilliam) I knew I'd like to chat to some more, but as a comrade in arms. Meeting Connery was like meeting God, and not the New Testament version either. No, he was definitely of the Old Testament variety, the smiting Sodom and Gomorrah and deadly plagues and stuff variety. Yet that was definitely a moment I will never forget. I thank God (the other One) that all my ticket buying etc. conspired to get me there at just the right moment.

After that of course everything was a let down. The Digital discussion, full of references to "The Matrix" etc., was interesting without being mindblowing. Only one of the two expected turned up, but Rosanna Sun was more than equal to the task. Her big bit of news was that she had just had a meeting with Steven Spielberg. I wanted to shout out, "So what! I just met Connery!" I didn't. I got my head back together. They raised the topic of 'machinemas', films made within game environments by game players, the most famous being ones using "Halo" and "Blues against Reds". A guy in work had told me about these months ago. You're on the ball, Niall! (That Niall, not me.)

Then I went to "Dr Ledbetter", and, yes, he could have done better! Everyone must wear a set of headphones as they are led around the Medical Faculty of Edinburgh University. The actor's words and thoughts comes straight to your ears. The venue is good (particularly the lecture hall), the acting is fine, but the story is very basic and the ending very tame. I kept on being put in mind of an old unscary, but interesting horror with Robert Stephens called "The Asphyx". That had a similar ending and was far more intelligent. Despite everything I found myself agreeing with The Guardian's review of the piece, a play without much point with only value as a ghost tour (and not too creepy at that). A shame.

All things considered though this festival city has been a real revelation and I'll miss it when I leave tomorrow.