QOTD: "Brooms make excellent dance partners. Though they are bald and armless, and have skinny, inflexible torsos, they more than compensate by their willingness to follow your lead. Draw them across the floor gently but with assurance. Remember to concentrate your will power in your left hand. They will be completely at your disposal. They are courteous beings. If, occasionally, by mistake, they should hapen to (ever so lightly) step on your toes, they will always apologize by simultaneously dusting off your shoe." - Stephen Mitchell
Reading: Jill Churchill, Mulch Ado About Nothing
Listening to: the original cast recording of Putting it Together
Decluttering accomplishments: wrote a huge number of Christmas cards, went through some household paperwork, did laundry
This was a roller coaster of a week as far as my emotional state goes. Some of it had to do with external news, e.g. learning that someone I used to hang out with on a mud died not long ago. Later in the week, I heard from another old mud friend with better news - namely, that he'd gotten married. The real sad news - tantamount to another death - was that The Fantasticks is going to close in January after 42 years. I had to choke back tears when I heard the news story. Particularly because they played parts of "Try to Remember" and the lyrics, with references to September as a time of innocence, have definitely taken on another layer this year.
Then there's the influence of my environment. Friday was a real low point. My office, which is often the coldest spot in North America, was particularly awful that day. On top of which it was raining out. When I got home, my neighbors on both side had parked so close to the edges of my spot that I had no choice but to lean against the car on the left in getting out, meaning that I got sopping wet. There were also assorted computer network glitches at work and a power outage at home. The batteryless Russian flashlight that you work by pumping the handle works well enough, but you can't do anything else while working it, so I tried to put new batteries in another flashlight - and dropped it, breaking the bulb in the process.
I did have a few distractions, as well. Wednesday's network glitches were a good excuse to leave work a bit early, so I went to see the new movie about The Endurance. I hate going to the theatre it was at, because they're part of the one chain that doesn't take the free movie passes my mother gets me from time to time. And parking there is often a pain, though I found a spot around the corner with no real trouble. The movie itself was good enough, particularly because it included some of Hurley's film footage. I was annoyed, however, by computer graphics of swirling pack ice with blue pictures of penguins. They may get the point across, but they look cheap. They also did a poor job of identifying actual recordings of the crew, versus diary excerpts read by actors. (I happen to know, for example, that it was a recording of Hussey describing life on Elephant Island, because I've heard the recording before, but few people would recognize it.) There wasn't anything new for me, but it was still worth it just for the sake of seeing Hurley's work. And the actor who read from Hurley's diary did a very good job. They did get an Australian for him and an American for Bakewell, by the way. But the actor who read Worsley's excerpts didn't sound like a Kiwi to my ears.
Today featured entertainment of a different sort, as I went to see The Lion King at the Pantages. I was impressed by the costumes, but didn't think much of the show otherwise. One of the annoyances was my persnicketiness at work. Their attempt to add African atmosphere includes use of some Swahili words (e.g. the song, "Hakuna Matata" and the name "Simba"). But the African chant they throw in is South African in style - far outside Swahili speaking regions. In fact, there was one point in which Rafiki (apparently a babboon) gives a long speech in an unidentified language. I'm not positive what language it was, but it was clearly part of the Bantu family (with the distinctive click sounds). While Swahili sounds very different, with its dominant roots being Arabic.
It isn't like most of the audience would notice this, of course, so maybe it isn't a fair criticism. The audience should, though, notice the mediocre score and the embarrassing book, with its mixture of cliches and cheap juvenile humor. Ten year olds can be forgiven for laughing at this tripe, but adults should be above it. Alas, this was not exactly a sophisticated audience. For example, the man sitting behind me, who was apparently taking his son to see the show, kicked the back of my seat repeatedly. He also never grasped the concept that the instant that anything happens on stage, you stop talking. I would have liked to have grabbed him by the collar and forced him to listen to Sondheim's "Invocation and Instructions to the Audience." ("...and please, don't fart / there's very little air and this is art.")
And then there's the inevitable standing ovation, which has been cheapened by overuse. I still believe that the standing ovation should be reserved for rare and special moments. So I sit and let people glare at me for my refusal to indulge in excessive praise of this mediocrity.
Oh, well, the Pantages is still a beautiful theatre. And, as I said, the costumes were nice.
Copyright 2001 Miriam H. Nadel