Inside Interiors
I felt very special, I must say. I was invited to a special preview performance of Amy Jephta’s new play Interiors at The Intimate Theatre last night. This kind of theatre is what I want to write about. It is a tiny, independent, original little piece, that is obviously only at the beginning stage of being. It also only has six performances, Tuesday to Friday this week, so people of Slaap Stad, if you want to check it out you better get your act together.
The blurb about Interiors goes “It all starts when He gives Her a table for their first wedding anniversary.” And that is really what this play is all about. That is where it starts, and that is where it ends, with a lot of relationship stuff in between. Amy has written a delicious little script. It’s cute, wacky and it has an original take on a well worn theme; the path from boy meets girl to ‘WTF is he/she on about?’ It has a kind of Juno quality about it (especially with the choice of music) and I have no doubt it is the kind of play that will have huge appeal for a young, fresh theatre audience. This is good. Very good.
Amy also directs Nadia Caldeira and Bren Belknap, who are the Woman and Man respectively. They are both recent graduates of UCT’s drama department, and here lies my first problem. Neither of them have shaken off drama school yet. Nadia is by far more successful; it’s just in those little moments of tippie toeing between scenes, or ‘physical theatre’ acting that it comes through. On the whole I found her mostly engaging, although I wished that she had made slightly stronger character choices, especially when she was standing still with her hands held girlishly in front of her. Beren, for me, didn’t manage Man very well. His performance isn’t real yet. He falls into big, meaningless facial gestures and drama school (and sometimes even American?) pronunciation too often, and he didn’t really connect to the Man, or Woman genuinely enough. I know this sounds like harsh stuff; I just think that if you are going to try and pull off a two hander then you need two very, very strong performers, since they are it really. That is who you watch and who you have to put the story across.
Amy’s direction has moments of genius inspiration, but there are funny little bumps too, which make it inconsistent. Still, it is a treat to watch and listen to a fresh new voice in theatre. I do believe that this little piece has tons of potential and will grow and grow the more it is put on.
Yawazzi are responsible for the multimedia (which I completely loved) and lights are by Jon Keevy (and they are also really cool; being The Intimate an’ all). One tiny thing though, stage management and designers; I think I recognised that table. It was used in my favourite play of 2009, …miskien? wasn’t it?
Shimmering Shadow of Brel
I went to Tabula Rasa (the laundromat by day theatre by night) last night to watch my friend and colleague Godfrey Johnson’s new show The Shadow of Brel. I was a little apprehensive; being a bit Brelled out. He has become the height of fashion lately; a trend started by Clare Watling and Godfrey himself as accompanist. I also know Brel very well. My father introduced me to him when I was about 12, and I loved his lyrics and the theatricality of his songs. I was introduced to politics, love, seediness, friendship, and that special European sentimentality that Jacques Brel was all about. I have seen many Brel shows and even movies. I know the words to most of the popular Brel songs.
So I really lucked out last night and was delighted by The Shadow of Brel. This one, directed by Sanjin Muftic, is a real goodie. It couldn’t be simpler. Godfrey, in shirt and tie, sits straight backed at the piano and sings Brel to his own masterful accompaniment. He has chosen a very good mix of songs, including the most popular ones like Carousel, If You Go Away and If We Only Have Love, but introducing a few most obscure and interesting and unusual songs like Next (my favourite), The Lockman, and Fannette.
Godfey was naturally a bit nervous last night, which made him take extra care. Once he settles in and relaxes I think he will let rip and the show will be a complete scorcher. A friend I was sitting next to said afterwards that Godfrey was ‘without artifice’ and I thought that that was a lovely way to describe the obvious simplicity and sincerity of this show. His voice and range are perfectly suited to the material, and his interpretations are from the heart, with deep understanding.
The venue is lovely and lends itself perfectly to this kind of intimate little cabaret. I loved the washing baskets turned over into tables. Yawazzi Fish (Jon Keevy and Sanjin), a newish and very exciting theatre company in Cape Town, are responsible for the staging of this show and the creation of a theatre space in Tabula Rasa, which is, really, a laundromat. The ability to do this successfully is brilliant. This kind of thinking is what makes me love Cape Town, but these teeny ventures have got to be supported to survive. It’s so easy to get there. If you are going down Roeland street, turn left at the set of robots into Canterbury street. Go past Ohrm’s on your left. Tabula Rasa is on the opposite corner. This show is on until 20 Feb, and it’s a great one to get you there.
Boring. Just like that.
You would think I have no life at all (which is a pity, with all the amazing sounding things on the boil in Cape Town); the last thing I wrote about was Survivor Santa Carolina, and here it is a week later and I’m writing about it again!
Ho hum is all I can say about last night’s episode. Don’t rush out and get the DVD y’all!I think I understood one of the problems last night, and again, it has to do with editing. So much TV time is spent on the team that will lose the immunity challenge that you can predict which team will lose, and then who will go. Craig whines and is the voice of dissent. Craig Jacobs misses the immunity idol. Chibulu lose. Out goes Craig. Unfortunately the editing has stuck too closely to formula and hasn’t given us, the viewer, enough meat, or drama. 
I mean, Darren Maule losing his mind is funny for a bit, and then, we’d like to see some of the others. There are still people on the island that I have no clue about; like Lady Lea and ProVerb. Where are they and what do they do? And also, there are no night shots.
I still say Gys de Villiers for Survivor (although Okkert Brits was cute in moments), because there really isn’t anyone out there giving him a run for his money.
Sick Survivor Stabbers
Oy, oy, oy, if tonight’s episode is anything to go by, Survivor Santa Carolina is going to be more hectic than I could have imagined. In summary; two big SIESes and one Gys de Villiers!!!!! for Survivor!
Who could have believed that one man could drop out of Survivor because of a rash by his penis? Jub Jub, it’s like karma for your name bro’. I was shocked. And disgusted. And embarrassed. Not because of the constant reference to Jub Jub’s penis and balls, but because the medic made such light work of his ‘infectious wounds’ that were nothing more than scratches! I mean, Christina leaving like that was one thing. But to dump your team in the shit when they were already two down! Hau bo! Sies! Nee man!
Gys was the obvious choice to be exiled to the stinky island. He survived, became strong, made jokes, was on his way to finding an immunity idol, came back and was welcomed into his depleted team. Gys for Survivor! And then, his little team went on to win immunity! It was so well deserved and a real morale boost.
But who would have thought that the witches of the other team would tactically vote out the builder of the shelter, tough chick, gorgeous, real Survivor contender Cindy Nel? Sies! Sandi Schultz, Ashley Hayden and ‘Lady’ Lea, sies. What kak style from you chicks. Now I’m not traditionally a fan of beauty queens, but Cindy Nel kicked butt, and it seemed very early to be voting off one of your strongest and not the weakest link. Sies. It is obvious that Darren Maule doesn’t have a clue what is going on and with who, but I suppose he poses no real threat.
The show has jumped straight in to the bitching, back stabbing, snake-eyed creep stuff and I’m already hot under the collar. But I already know for sure who I don’t want to win. I’ll be following with interest. oh yes I will, slimy Survivor chicks!
Celeb Survivor Santa Carolina
Ok, I am a huge Survivor fan, but this time I have a commitment! There is a celebrity someone who is also a friend and I have been beside myself with excitement. Go Gys de Villiers!!!!!!
I only watched the first SA Survivor, which I loved, and when I found out that there was a celebrity one and they were going it alone without Endemol I was properly keen.
So Wednesday was the first episode; not quite long enough for me to have loves and hates, but certainly enough to whet the appetite. And it looks totally hectic. I have to say, I can’t believe what a woesie Christina Storm was. What a complete banana. I mean, couldn’t she just wait to be voted off at least, instead of perching her teeny, spoilt bum on a boat and not looking back, as the rest of her team looked on in what I assume was disgust. What did she think it was going to be like? Camps Bay? Now I remember seeing her on celebrity The Weakest Link and I almost died when she got her first question wrong. It was a fashion question and it was, what do you call the fashion clothing item piece of cloth that you tie around your neck, beginning with S, and she said sarong! I kid you not. Needless to say, she was voted off that faster than I could recover.
Edit: I started writing this post last week, but I was in Jozi on fandamily business, which was a good thing, because I ended up spending some time with someone who had a bit of inside info on the series; and I got some lowdown. With Christina it’s worse than I thought. From the editing it looked like everything happened on the same day. Not. Christina left on the second day, and Garth, who did some serious damage to himself, lay on the beach until the fourth day. We all know that Survivor is edited into a coma. We know that someone can be the best and coolest person for the longest time, then the camera will catch them rolling their eyes, and that will be it, out lasting impression will be of so-and-so the eye roller. Also, it looked like these guys arrived, separated into teams, did a challenge (in which Gys was left high and dry on a turnstile, dammit) and then popped off to tribal council. We missed them building shelter, fetching water, being starving, trying to make fire. I am sure that already some of the contestants have been made to look like moegoes, and that’s editing for you too.
I think that because the production has decided to go it alone they could have stuck less rigidly to the existing formula; stretching it out, giving us more and making the first episode more interesting and less predictable. Here’s hoping. At least we didn’t have to listen to the old Survivor theme tune and stings!
One thing that bugs me about some of the contestants though, is their claim to celeb status. I’m not much of a celeb follower, but who are some of these people? I find it hard to see an Okkert Brits or a Ashleigh Hayden or a Louw Venter be criticised by someone going as a dj or something.
As you can see, I’m already hooked. Don’t ask me to go anywhere on Wednesday nights. I’ll be busy for the next two months or so.
2010 and TheatreSports
I have to admit that I don’t completely have my finger on the pulse of this year yet. I just don’t know exactly what I’ll be doing, or when or how I’ll be doing it. It’s not entirely unusual, with me being a free-lancer, but compared to the hecticness of last year, I seem to be in a bit of a slow start. I got a diary two weeks into the month! I have only written down about four things.
The one certainty I have is TheatreSports, and I must say, we have gotten on to a groovy start. In fact I have just come back from our second Kalk Bay Theatre show tonight and I’m still a bit hyper with the lekker energy and fun of this evening’s performance. Firstly we were almost full, with a crowd of mainly TheatreSports virgins who had never been before. Then, we did some amazing games. My favourites were a scene on a Bolivian hillside involving a llama that had gone astray, a Radio Play (a scene played totally in the dark) called “Shine your Light”, set in 1955 and sponsored by Eskom, a disgusting East Enders type British soapie with British scum of the earth and a sprinkler, and finally a Vampire movie called “The White Board”.
The audience were rolling in the aisles and it was fantastic.
So, at least I know that every Monday and Tuesday night I am busy. Doing the best kind of stuff. For an audience.
Maynardville and me, and Antony and Cleopaaatra
Last night was the pilgrimage to Maynardville for the opening night of the yearly outdoor Shakespeare. This year it is Antony and Cleopatra. After the delightful and mostly interrupted picnic on the lawns; there was a lot of jumping up and kissing of opening night people, we filed into the venue, piled cushions on seats and realised that we (my darling friend and Shakespeare lover was my date because Big Friendly has sworn off Shakespeare and Maynardville) had arguably the worst seats in the whole space. We were in the fourth row, right at the end on the right. I could see nothing over the heads of everyone in front of us, I could see nothing of anything at the back, behind the set, I could see nothing on stage right at all. There were two spots where I could see well; directly in front of me and on the beautiful raised circle of the set.
When the final ‘take your seats’ bell rang and the ’switch off phones’ announcement was made we realized how close we were to the speaker! Well, at least we were going to be able to hear everything.
Before last night I had lots of mixed feelings about A and C. I was very excited that Marthinus Basson was making a return to Maynardville, since he is one of my favourite directors, but I had very clear memories of Marthinus’s last A and C, which was most beautiful but very strange, with the not entirely successful Aletta Bezuidenhout and Andrew Buckland as the leads. It also had a gold Mark Hoeben as soothsayer, with gold live snakes. I was nervous that this year’s leads seemed very, very young, and I was in my normal state about Shakespeare’s ‘historicals’, since I never properly understand what’s going on. In fact, I know A and C pretty well, having seen it live and in movies many times, but I still have no actual clue what the political story is.
Mixed feelings are what I left with afterwards too. There was a lot about this production that I liked, there was a lot that I didn’t, but mostly, although I enjoyed watching the spectacle (what I could see of it) I remained unmoved emotionally. The really good things were the design and costumes, which, of course, Marthinus is magnificent at. Tinarie van Wyk Loots as Cleopatra and Andre Weideman (who I just completely adore) were damn fine and very good as A and C, and even got away with being so young, Andrew Laubscher was successful and irritatingly good as the young Octavius, and nobody was truly hideous, although I definitely had my favourites. I thought Mark Hoeben (in a completely different part this time) and Eben Genis were really very, very good. I liked the original music, with the different sounds for Egypt and the war and Rome. I loved the costumes, especially the suits of Rome.
There is no doubt that I would have been more engaged with the production if I had been able to see more. But here’s another thing. I don’t know if it’s because of the limitations of Maynardville as a venue, but I found everybody’s performance very one levelled. Antony was big and shouty, Cleopatra was either woes or happy, with a lot of head holding, Octavius was whiny and plotting. And mostly, the speaking of Shakespeare was not completely fantastic. There were so many times when I had no idea what anyone was actually talking about. Lionel Newton was an exception, and his ‘the barge she sat on’ speech was beautiful. The bottom line is that as an audience member you have to care for ole Cleopatra (at least) because if you don’t her death is endless. Which is a little bit how I felt about the production; stylish, interesting, but, as with most Shakespeare, endless.
Cycles
I have just come from a delightful little meeting securing a TheatreSports performance for a corporate client. When I was met by the woman who had contacted me, in the foyer of their most glamorous head office building, I felt the prickles of familiarity on the back of my neck; I knew her from somewhere. We started chatting as she took me to the room where we would be performing, and it turns out she organised TheatreSports’s very first corporate, about sixteen years ago, at the long disappeared Long St Theatre (in Waterkant Street). She is still with her company, and so am I with mine!
So, in February we will be performing for her and her team, again. I love it.
Avatar hooha
On the morning of Christmas eve, a day after I got back from Europe, I dragged Big Friendly to Canal Walk (he calls it Anal Crawl) to catch the 9am showing of Avatar. I always try to go to early morning time slots; they seem to be the least popular.
I must confess that I knew almost nothing about the movie, other than it was sci-fi and 3d. I had never seen a 3d before and this seemed like a good choice. Am I delighted that I saw it before the hooha hit the interweb!
Now it is only fair to say that I hated James Cameron’s blockbuster Titanic, and I didn’t even know he was the creator of Avatar. Not that it would have mattered. I loved the movie. I loved the 3d, I loved the aliens, I loved their planet, I loved their magic, mystical hair, I loved the plants and creatures, I loved the music, I loved Sigourney Weaver. I loved Sam Worthington and his avatar. I loved the styling and the seamless way real photography mixed with animation. I fell in love with the sexy, long, skinny blue people. I was transported to another, simpler world, and however unrealistic or schlock the storyline was, I wanted the bad guys to lose and the good guys to win. I walked out uplifted and delighted and in awe of the director’s vision and accomplishment.
So, when Big Friendly started telling me about the hooha, from left and right, Christians and Americans, movie snobs and historians, I started to get wtf-ish. I’m always up for a good debate, and while I love trying to force my opinion onto others, I don’t really do it anymore. But hold on a minute! The right are calling the movie anti-American. The left are calling it unrealistic. The other night my friend told me that Christians walked out of the movie house when the aliens were praying to the tree. They are aliens! On another planet! That’s the story! Big friendly told me he had read opinions that the movie was racist; the blue people needed a white man to save them. Have you ever in your entire life? The movie snobs are calling it trite and simplistic and mainstream. James Cameron was accused of plagiarising the story of Pocahontas. I kid you not.
The final straw was the info Big Friendly sent me today, that people are depressed after the movie because the realise that they will never be able to go to that beautiful planet. Now there is an increase of people wanting to kill themselves. You know what? Might not be a bad idea.
Fiddle East here in Woodstock
I am still recovering from the cricket world’s most exciting test draw! I managed four and a half days of it live, at Newlands, left on the fifth day at 15.10 when I could not contain the ants in my pants, and less than two hours later things went ballistic. I must share my opinion. The Proteas gave that game away. Too little too late.
Anyhoo, it’s back to the orifice for me, where I am writing an industrial theatre script and longing for Newlands. What it also means is that I have to be serious about going back to gym properly, which I did yesterday.
Only, last night I went to the Balkanology Fiddle East party, here in Woodstock, at the Albert Hall. I have been to one other Balkanology party, the one that was held at The German Club, off Hope Street; the one where they raffled a pig, and it was a crush of people, but seriously good fun (although I couldn’t get inside for most of the night).
Last night’s one, with the promise of Middle Eastern music, was directly up my alley, and also geographically in my back yard. I wasn’t going to miss it.
My friend and I did what all old people do; we got there 20 minutes after the door opened, and nobody (except for a few over-exciteds like me) was there. We got served at the bar (without waiting 40 minutes like my other friend did an hour later) and even had a place to sit and chat before we started dancing.
First up as dj was James Webb, and I was like a pig in pooh. He played my music. Music like Rachid Taha. I have fantasised about dancing to Rachid Taha at jauls but have never thought it would come true. There I was. (He looks like a mad, Algerian version of The Boss, no?) I went a bit insane, I have to say. By the end of the set the place was full and I was drenched and out of breath! (I can’t tell you how stiff I am this morning!)
Next up was a dj who played more Egyptian sounds which was also fantastic. By then I had become a bit of a policeman with people smoking inside. Then it was the more Eastern European true Balkan gypsy, circus sounds from the next dj.
It had suddenly become very, very full, and it was too windy to be outside. Not long after my friend came back with drinks we decided to call it a night. I had got what I went for; a big, fat skop to my soul music! As we left we noticed the hip and trendy, in a long queue, waiting to get in. Oh, my ancientness paid off.
-
Randomness
