A Very Belated Blog Post

SO... I delayed a bit on this one, Benji. But I've got magnificent memories of the performances I saw, and now i will relate them to you as best I can.

http://vigszinhaz.hu/galeria/35+othello++el%C5%91ad%C3%A1s+fot%C3%B3k/

This is a link to the first show's photo gallery, on their website. This first show was a Hungarian edition of the Shakespearean classic Othello. This version stuck to the original text (in Hungarian of course) and yet modernized the setting, bringing the warfare into the time of the World Wars. The set reflected the modern setting, and was simple and functional enough to allow for fluid scene transitions and awe-inspiring moments of people dropping from level to level.

There was an element to this show that was unusual, Othello was not a Moor. I do not know if they did this to emphasize his equality as a mere man with other characters, or simply did it as a political statement of making the black man the bad guy, or if it was something as simple as he was the right actor, and race did not matter to the director. I thought that this change was good in many ways, but in the beginning led to a bit of confusion in my mind (the language barrier did not help) as to which actor was Othello, and which ones were other characters.

MOVING ON.....

This is Robert Wilson. His solo show, Krapp's Last Tape, was an... interesting experience to say the least. I was not happy during the show. However, reflecting on it now, I am glad i experienced this format of post-modernist performance art. The silence he built was deafening, and the slow movements (such as the 5 minute peeling of one simple banana) were excruciatingly painful. My younger brother, who also attended, referred to it as some sort of "theatrical mind torture". In a way, I believe that Wilson's goal was not to entertain audiences, or make them leave the theatre feeling self-assured or happy. His goal was to have them leaving with questions, have them exit the theatre feeling uncomfortable with what had just been but before them. This was a type of theatre that I could imagine being very painful for the actor as much as it is for the audience watching.

LAST, BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST...

To begin, Tadashi Suzuki was in a different location, a much more intimate space. No microphones, smaller stage. Suzuki's Dionysus was a visual wonderland, a play that you could literally take a snapshot of every second on stage and want to frame it for posterity. Many moments had people transformed into architecture, my favorite being the men in the back, solid columns of absolute truth, frozen in pillars of life. Speaking of FROZEN, the actor's ability to stand still was incredibly. I found myself holding my breath in anticipation more than once. The play was in Japanese, and the subtitles were in Korean, but i felt like the words weren't even important. In fact, i may have enjoyed it less at times if i did understand. Once the play was translated in a brief version by the lovely John Park following the show, a few stray hairs of the plot fell into place. But I could have walked out of the theatre without it and would have been perfectly satisfied. For the true joy came from what the bodies were doing, not the words that came out of their mouths.

Sorry again for the lateness. <3

Melissa