Leaving Helsinor

Play #22 of '28Plays28Days' is in on time. Three hours ahead of the deadline. I love this writing challenge, simply love it. And - much to my amazement - I'm hanging in there and have twenty-two short plays to show for it. 

Today's challenge was presented in these terms:

Fan fiction is all the rage now...

Oh, boy!

So write something about your favourite characters doing something else. Or use their world to create new characters... Or something like that. (I'm not 100% sure I understand what fan fiction is... Would Rosencrantz and Guildenstern count?) Anyway, I trust you all to know better than me!

Who knows?! Maybe the next 50 Shades will come out of this challenge! (that was fan fiction, wasn't it?!)

Bonus points if you write your fan fiction on something theatrical, so no Harry Potter, please!

Ophelia
by John William Waterhouse, 1894

So I chose William Shakespeare's Hamlet as my starting point; giving it a near-contemporary setting: 1978 (which is contemporary for an old fart like me).

We reach Act III, Scene 2 - the play within a play part - and Hamlet is being a sexist boor with Ophelia. Rather than just sitting there deflecting the Prince, Ophelia tells Hamlet she's tired of his  incessant whining, like some kind of pseudo-adolescent brat (the Bard's original text tells us, after all, he's at least 30). Ophelia has had enough. She leaves Denmark to live as a single mum in a squat in Vauxhall, finding solace and inspiration in the inestimable musical talents of Gloria Gaynor. Some time later, when young Ham is about three, Ophelia is arrested for blocking the entrance to the Cruise missile base at Greenham Common alongside 30,000 other women peace campaigners.








Works for me.

Did I say? I love this writing challenge. Thank you East London's The Space.

The Seven Sisters

Baggage Series by Mohamd Hafez

Play #19 of '28Plays28Days' is in. Today's challenge was to take an art movement not often (or at all) associated with drama as our starting point then write a play that applied its aesthetic, processes, methods to the stage / performance.

I chose 'Assemblage' as my school / movement - 3D collage using found objects. Applied that to the seven sisters of The Pleiades meeting up for their annual reunion at the cave of the eldest sister, Maia. Fun, eh?

Found fabby examples of assemblage art in the monthly online journal Europe Now (if you're interested.)

Curtain Call

Day ten of the 28Days28Plays writing challenge from The Space performing arts and community centre based in a converted church on the Isle of Dogs, East London.  Today's challenge was given to us in these terms.

Write a play that never ends. That's it.  Simple!

It has a beginning. Sure! It has a middle. Of sorts. But... woah! What the what?! Holy smoking guacamole! No end?

No! No end! No end! It just goes on and on and on and on and on and ... you get the drift.

But here's the trick! For bonus points - don't make it cyclical (that's far too easy!)

Anton Chekhov

And I responded by writing a 15 minute play in which Agatha Christie meets Noises Off meets Chekhov and they all bump into Beckett near the never-end. (Spike said she laughed out loud ... which is a good thing cos I was trying to be funny.)

Not in my wildest dreams would I have conceived of such an idea or simply open up a new blank page and write it in about five hours. I cannot adequately describe how grateful I am to The Space for organising this month-long challenge. I love every minute of it. Truly.

In Defence of All We Knew

Morgan Le Fay by Frederick Sandys (1864)

I feel I'm at risk of falling behind in my 28Days28Plays challenge. I finished play #9 and submitted it just 20 minutes before the deadline. Way too close for comfort.

We were asked to respond to a quote from Hemingway, “The world is a fine place and worth fighting for and I hate very much to leave it.”

I somehow felt compelled to re-tell the story of Gawain and the Green Knight with most sympathy for Morgan Le Fay fighting to protect her Pagan world view. Fifteen pages ... and all in rhyming verse!

Ten days into this challenge, I'm beginning to suspect the real me has been abducted by aliens and replaced by an interloper from a more advanced, more literate universe. That story always ends badly for the body snatchers.

I'm loving it but poor Spike Deane is forced to read the lot.

Tally ho ... play #10 awaits.

Janet of Carterhaugh

Day 2 of the 28 Plays Later challenge (write 28 plays in 28 days) and script #2 was submitted about an hour ago. This was our brief:

So let’s look at myths and folklore today. Try to pick a random culture, find an interesting character in their mythology or an awesome folklore story and write about that.

I forgot about selecting a "random culture" and stuck with Scotland. I hummed and hawed for a bit between re-telling The Great Selkie of Sule Skerrie and The Ballad of Tam Lin. In the end I chose the latter, and not simply because it's one of Spike's favourites (although that did influence my decision).  

So I've re-told 'Tam Lin' in eleven pages, including music and dance. Me? Putting in music and dance. There's a first. And I've called it Janet of Carterhaugh because the more and more I thought about the tale, the clearer it became to me. It's Janet's story. The important point is that it's in. If it's a tenth as good as the rendition above of the ballad I shall be a happy man.

After The Apocalypse

Four Horseman of the Apocalypse by Viktor Vasnetsov, 1887

Given some of the characters I included in my first screenplay (When You Dine With The Devil, first draft finished last Friday) it seems I could be developing an obsession with the four horsemen of the apocalypse. I submitted my first play (of 28) earlier this afternoon to the '28 Plays Later' project organised by The Space, a performing arts centre on the Isle of Dogs, East London; not far from where I used to live in Tower Hamlets back in the early 1980s. 

It seems I can't leave alone those four riders from the Book of Revelation. I've put them at the heart of my response to the first challenge of '28 Plays Later' -- a whole new play each brand new day.

Our first challenge came through the e.mail in these terms:

So… as you’ve probably noticed, the financial stake this year has gone up to 19.28 (as I said, blame Trump… Brexit… etc. - see below for super special bonus points)

So for today’s challenge, let’s write a play about “19/28". Perhaps a play about something that costs exactly £19.28. Perhaps a play that starts at 19:28 or ends at 19:28. Maybe set the play in 1928… or research the year 1928 and be inspired by something that happened that year. Maybe the play is a dialogue between two people - a 19 year-old and a 28 year-old. How about a play that lasts exactly 19 minutes and 28 seconds? Or maybe spend that time to write the play. Oooh… how about a play titled “when nine teens ate tea” (almost all the syllables)? Or a play set in the junction of 19th and 28th streets… something like that. The possibilities are endless… well… I guess not endless. They have an end. Like most things in life. Apart from things with no end.

Make sure your play has an end! We can’t write a never-ending play, can we? CAN WE?!?! Hmmm… we’ll see about that.

And this is how I began ...

A DESOLATE CROSSROADS IN A BLEAK WASTELAND.  AT THE JUNCTION, A CITY STREET SIGN INDICATES ONE ROUTE IS 19^TH STREET.  THE OTHER IS 28^TH AVENUE.

A RIDER, CLAD IN A GREAT WHITE CLOAK, LEADS A JET-BLACK HORSE DOWN 19^TH STREET TO THE JUNCTION AND, THERE, TIES THE REINS OF THE HORSE TO THE SIGNPOST. THE RIDER REMOVES HIS HELMET, LOOKS ABOUT THEN SPEAKS TO THE HORSE.

Enough already with the deathly horse riders Douglas! (At least mine have gender-parity: two sisters, two brothers from one doom-laden family). The point, though, is: my first play is in. On to day two and play two, a version of The ballad of Tam Lin. Maybe.

Lessons in Australian Drama

Much to my shame (if that's not too strong a condemnation) I know almost nothing about the history of Australian theatre but all that will change soon. I shall be taking a unit in Modern Australian Drama next semester at the ANU:

"The course aims to provide students with an introduction to some of the major developments in Australian drama and theatre in the twentieth century. Works by key playwrights, for example Seymour, Lawler, White, Kenna, Hewett, Buzo, Nowra, Williamson, Romeril, Hibberd, Gow and Davis will be studied both theoretically and practically. The plays chosen represent the wide range of subject matter and theatrical form that is evident in the modern Australian dramatic repertoire. In order to contextualise the plays studied, some examination will be given to more important elements of the stage history of Australia covering the last 50 years.

This course is designed to provide students with the opportunity to study theory through its practical application."

I'm looking forward to my late-starter introduction; particularly that last part. It seems we shall be learning by doing to some extent.

Dorothy Hewett: 1923 - 2002

We studied Dorothy Hewett's play, The Chapel Perilous, from the 1970s, as part of our 'Story to Screen' creative writing unit last semester. Although I knew nothing about the playwright (now I do) I was not surprised to learn of her Communist background (it takes one to know one, as we used to accuse one other, of all kinds of deviancy, when we were children.) Nor had I heard of the play, far less read it (although now I have, enjoyed it and secured a decent grade for my essay on the text - to my great relief). 

The play felt familiar nevertheless. It is, as some might say, 'of its age' but that 'age' - the 1970s - was my coming of age; emotionally, intellectually, politically as much as physically or chronologically. That was the decade I was exposed meaningfully to theatre for the first time; outside of the school curriculum, beyond the mainstream stage, in a Scotland that was re-inventing its theatrical tradition. It was a place and period of radical, iconoclastic, typically left-leaning drama that could be, at its best, electrifying and challenging in both its form and content. But it was also, very often, brilliant, engaging, and blissfully alive; full of fun, laughter, and music as well as piercing observation, searing critique and sometimes anger. Plays like The Cheviot, The Stag and The Black, Black Oil (1973) by 7:84 - a touchstone for anyone of my time; The Slab Boys by John Byrne performed at the impeccable Traverse in 1978; the hugely talented Russell Hunter as Jock, a one-man play for BBC Scotland; much later there were fantastic works like Mary Queen of Scots Got Her Head Chopped Off by Liz Lochhead, anything by the Communicado Theatre Group really, or the Trav's adaptation of Irvine Welsh's Trainspotting. Those earlier plays, however, shared much of the Brechtian, destabilising verve of The Chapel Perilous.

So ... I was pleased to stumble over an article with the (somewhat unwieldy) title, The great Australian plays: The Torrents, the Doll and the critical mass of Australian drama in The Conversation online. Helpful pre-semester reading. It should assist my exploration of a largely unknown (to me) dramatic tradition. We shall see where that leads.

We are sailing ...

Ship ahoy! Pic: Stena

Almost all the 'nuts and bolts' of our trip to the UK in a few months are in place now. I've just finished making our Web booking for the ferry crossings between Cairnryan and Belast where we'll see my old mate Trevor Gill perform the role of Bottom in The Royal Shakespeare Company's A Midsummer Night's Dream. How exciting is that?

We have all but one of our flights booked now, both our ferry trips (Belast and Kirkwall in the Orkney Islands) and all of the hotel accommodation in Tokyo, Prestwick, Belfast, Kirkwall, Edinburgh, Manchester, Weymouth, London and Singapore. And all the accommodation is wheelchair accessible. Hasn't the world changed in thirty years. All that's left to do is book the travel between 

• London and Prestwick, 
• Prestwick and Belfast, 
• Prestwick and Aberdeen, 
• Aberdeen and Edinburgh, 
• Edinburgh to Manchester, 
• Manchester to Weymouth and 
• Weymouth to London. 

All train journeys, apart from the first leg. The online booking system at Scotrail hasn't reached the 6th June yet. I think that will tick over tomorrow. Choo, choo!

The play's the thing, said Hamlet

Not always.

We went to the theatre tonight in a cold and quiet Wagga Wagga. Us and eleven other audience members ... and one of them was the lead male's girlfriend! But it was fun. We chatted with the woman who is caretaker / bar tender / usher of the Riverina Theatre. Her enthusiasm was irresistible. Hers is, by the way, the only bar I know of where you can buy a mug of tea and a flute of decent-enough fizzy wine for five bucks. After the show we spoke briefly with the two cast members who seemed as happy that we were there as we were pleased to have made the effort. Wagga Wagga is clearly not a town that rolls up in huge numbers for contemporary work.

The play was staged by Gearstick Theatre Company, which is associated with the local university. They're committed to new writing, which is commendable. The play we saw, Ruby Moon written by Matt Cameron, is on this year's HSC list so that ought to ensure larger audiences when schools go back next week. Although I enjoyed the experience I can't say the text really grabbed me. I can see why you would get school students to study it... all those contemporary social issues: child abduction, mental ill-health, the alienating life of suburbia, male / female relationships, etc. And I can see why actors might like it ... two performers are allowed to present maybe ten characters so that would be enjoyable. The text itself, however, felt a bit clunky. One could see the joins so to speak.

But I'm nit-picking. We had an enjoyable evening.
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Waiting For Godot

I re-read WFG for the first time in 15 years as preparation for next Monday's class. It's just as brilliant as it always has been. Difficult? Not if you simply let it was over you. Try this. What's difficult?

Lighting up the Opera House

Spike nabbed a spot at the railings adjacent to Campbell Cove for us to watch the second of three nightly re-enactments of the destruction by fire of a pestilent convict ship. It was a less than explosive sight but fun to watch nevertheless.



















Brian Eno's lava-lamp illuminations of the Opera House were the highlight of the Sydney event called Vivid. Photos by Jon Reid.


















We took the late night tour with Jon and Rosie, beginning at the top of Observatory Hill, which was mobbed.

Macbeth

So ... I got my essay back this evening: 16 1/2 out of 20 or 8 2.5%, which is 1/2 a mark or 2.5 percentage points below a "high distinction". I assume that's deliberate, intended to make me try harder next time (with the Jane Austen question). Dr Morrison is probably right. An egotistical man rises to the challenge. Lay on Macduff indeed!!

Dickhead!

(Me rather than Fiona Morrison)
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Macbeth

Finished my university preparation course essay this way:

Macbeth, clearest in his mind in moments of action, ultimately recognises that his fate is sealed and that his folly is to end life as the weird sisters foretold. His final words show him to be resigned to that fate and damnably unrepentant when, as he faces certain death at the hands of MacDuff, he defiantly calls out:

I will not yield,
To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,
And to be baited with the rabble's curse.
Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,
And thou opposed, being of no woman born,
Yet I will try the last. Before my body
I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff,
And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'

Heroic to the end but tragically flawed, Macbeth pays the ultimate price for his crimes.

I don't imagine I'm the first to draw such a conclusion but it's done. And that's the point.

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Helena cancelled lunch 'cos she's unwell

So the day's recordable event is a two-hour class on ... oooo ... The Scottish Play. My teacher admires the Polanski version but thinks it's dated. I remember it as a defining moment in my cultural development. Even though I was only 14, I knew it was the real deal.

Student life

So today we're both working on assignments.

Spike has her 1,000 words on reading critics of Dale Chuhuliy.

I've got to set out the framework for an essay on MacBeth (I think the butler did it).

Théodore Chassériau (September 20, 1819 – October 8, 1856) was a French romantic painter noted for his portraits, historical and religious paintings, allegorical murals, and Orientalist images inspired by his travels to Algeria.
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Jamie the Saxth

Became James the 1st, 406 years ago today. And there I was last night, studing the play Shakespeare wrote for him maybe two or three years later. MacB of course.

Concussion

Decent script, well-acted and thoroughly enjoyable. It's very funny in parts. (Good to be at the theatre again)

Concussion at Wharf 1 Sydney Theatre Company

Review in the SMH.

The Magic Flute

Barking mad, unless you're an eighteenth-Century Mason. But the music is lovely and the singing was truly captivating. Emma Pearson's two arias as Queen of the Night were stunning. The crowd in the opera house was simply stopped in its tracks by the second piece and we roared our appreciation until we didn't know what to do next. So we sat back and enjoyed the rest of the show with its neat little resolutions of boy meets girl stories and the more than slightly incredible idea (these days) of Masonic good triumphing over the female / night's evil. Me? I'm on the side of the lady who sings from the Moon.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

Opera Australia web site.

Cristina Ricci (my friend rather than the movie actor) enjoyed the show, knocked out (like everyone else) by the Queen of the Night. So that's good ... my purchase of a pair of subscription series seats has not been rendered entirely meaningless by last year's difficulties. Michael Parkinson was in the audience. There was a time, in the 1970s, when his chat show really was essential viewing. He seemed happy enough as he dropped into his limo seat at the end of the night.
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The Barons Of Tang

According to the web site we checked-out, BOT would be playing at The Famous Spiegeltent in Hyde Park at eight o'clock. There was only one small error in that information ... the band came on stage at Midnight. Still, it was a blast. The band is a lot of fun, the music is good and Spike got to dance to her heart's delight for an hour and a half. It was three o'clock by the time our heads hit the pillow ... maybe closer to four.

Barons Of Tang at MySpace.




All clouds have a silver lining, though. To fill in some of the four hours we found ourselves suddenly confronted with, we bought tickets to a dance show by Wendy Houston - Desert Island Dances. Quirky is the word, I suppose, which springs too easily to mind. But I enjoyed the show.

Cavalleria rusticana / Pagliaci

Saturday night at the Sydney Opera House for 'Cav & Pag' as I believe they are known. Lovely music and some fine singing. The total effect, however, seemed somehow less than the sum of its parts. Don't know why.
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