Drills, Drama, Dance, and Deadlines

Remember that glorious fire alarm that wakes me up every...Thursday....morning...?  Well, it now seems to have found a new habit:  To go off on random days too.  Apparently too much steam from our showers set it off, too much smoke in the kitchen will do the trick as well, a whole conglomeration of menial possibilities could set of that alarm, which shuts down the lift and requires me to trek down 20 flights of stairs to be told that it's a false alarm.  And these are worse because unlike the Thursday drills, the fire alarm was actually set off by something, meaning it doesn't stop until the firemen come and turn it off and reset the system.  So the piercing shriek continues for at least quarter of an hour.  I've learned that the alarm isn't just a paced "beep beep beep".  Nope, in fact, I've heard it so much that I now know that it is actually has 3 different tones. Two tones are high pitched at a 3rd interval, a "do" to "mi" alternating back and forth.  And the third tone, higher, goes off with each of the other beeps, registering at about a "la" I'd say.  Yes, that is the solfege of my fire alarm.  And it just repeats over and over again, flat straight 4/4 time drone of beeping with a quarter rest every 5 beeps.  And when it FINALLY dies down, it chirps quickly then shuts off with a long whole note of "do".  So annoying.  I truly hate fire alarms!

Two weeks ago I had the pleasure of seeing "Broken Glass" by Arthur Miller at the Tricycle Theatre.  This theatre is the cutest little place in the middle of Kilburn.  Though the surrounding area isn't the ::best:: part of London, one can clearly see this theatre is very much loved by the locals.  There is a wavey art-deco stylized pipe swiggling above the entrance with the letters of "Tricycle" dangling down from it to mark your way into a short corridor that has a pully system in the ceiling dragging adverts of plays and movies currently being shown across your line of vision (in addition to the theatre there, there is also a movie cinema).   At the ticket window, you see a box asking for donations and a podium inviting you to become a "friend of the theatre".  Being a friend of a theatre makes you like a patron of the arts, middle class style.  You get good seats and special deals if you are a friend, and in return you are expected to help support the theatre in whatever area they need it in.  Because the Tricycle had this set-up, it very much had a community theatre atmosphere to it.  Even sitting down on their bench-style seats in their open-metal beamed auditorium gave you the sense of going to support your friends in your high school's production.  The setting was intimate and the stage was close to you no matter where you sat.

That night, I waited for the typical over-voice to tell me "Please turn off all mobiles, no flash photography," but instead found myself in complete darkeness as the house lights shut off abruptly and a long, sinew-y note was brushed from a cello.  A back-light illuminated a scrim to reveal a woman sitting on a stool, stradling her instrument.  She stroked a melancholic melody punctuated with sharp plucks as the sole piece of set, a move-able bed, glided into its opening position.  From this moment, I was completely captured by this play.  In the scenes that followed, depicting the struggle within the marriage of a Jewish couple living in New York in 1938 right after Kristallnacht, I became completely lost in Sylvia's passion and plight, Phillip's neurosis, and Dr. Hyman's frustrated refusal to not give up on the couple.  A play never went by so fast.  I'm contemplating using this play as basis for the paper I need to write for this class--anything that inspires me to write deserves to be written about in some way and here is just a start.  I honestly can say I found nothing I would change in this production.  I even liked the over-done Minnesota accent by Dr. Hyman's wife.  Definitely a play worth watching--it wouldn't have had the same affect had I just read it.

To continue this good streak of performances, I saw "La Valse, New Brandstrup, Winter Dreams, and  Theme and Variations" at the Royal Opera House this past Monday.  The instant I walked through the sky-scraping etherial pillared entrance, I thought "Oh, I have to come back!"  It was absolutely gorgeous.  From the rich red carpeting to the showcases displaying past costumes, to the detailed sulpture and design, the building itself was a work of art.  And despite it being a Monday night, the place was packed.  I had gotten a little dressed up--skirt, blouse, heels, whatnot.  But some people were dressed to the nines--fur coats, formal evening gowns.  It much resembled our ticket prices actually...the high up you got in the ampitheatre, the more casual the audience became.  But those people down by the pit...they were beautiful.  The opera house also had a level dedicated to a restaurant, where it was hosting a "champagne dinner".  Above this level is where our seats were.  Now, the seating arrangement was not as bad as it could have been save for the family that happened to sit directly next to me.  Despite the fact that we were in the last row on the far left with a slightly restricted view of top of the theatre, I happened to sit next to a family of four.  Now, there were only three seats next to me, and there were 3 standing-only seats (contradictory, right?) behind us.  So three of them sat and one stood behind.  But during the course of the evening, they all kept shuffling around, taking up too much space, invading into my space, and of course they all spoke no English, so there was nothing I could do about it.  However, because one of my friends couldn't come that evening, we ended up giving our 3rd seat to a wonderful elderly woman who had a standing seat at first.  She was so short!  But so sweet.  She thoroughly enjoyed the fact that she not only could sit down, but could actually see better because she could barely see over our heads when she was standing behind us before.  So that made up for the such ill company to my left.

Now, only the actual ballet.  It actually was a split ballot, so the first portion was La Valse.  This was a very traditional style.  The dancers were different colored long skirts, each saturated with a royal deep color like emerald or ruby or sapphire.  I have never actually seen a live performance of a professional ballet in a professional opera house before.  I expected to like it, but it completely took my breath away.  I literally could not take my eyes off the dancers.  It was beautiful and fluid and so elegance.  The music was equally exquisite--a sonatina-style classical piece accompanied them.  The second part was New Brandstrup, which was much more modern.  It had a black and white theme, and the set consisted of a grey scrim-like solid wall that light played over throughout the piece.  The light fashioned buildings, displayed key words, swirls time-piece images, and added an extra layer of symbolism, almost like a play in that respect.  The third portion, Winter Dreams, was my favorite by far.  It had piano as its main component for melody and music, driving the drama of the dance.  I hadn't been so inspired by a live piano performance like that in quite some time.  I wanted to just run down and join in right then and  there (though that might have been frowned upon, uh?  Me, leaping down, sitting next to the pianist at that lovely grand piano and adding my hands to his on the keyboard....most likely.  haha).  It made me feel so connected to music in a way that has only happened a few times in my life that I can recall--playing Berkley's piano during choir and being joined by one of my friends on cello and the orchestra teacher on violin impromptu, or singing Loch Lomond for the first time in Scotland this past May.  I like that feeling.  It's rare, but it's very powerful.  The music fit seamlessly with the choreography.  It was fashioned a bit like a Shakespearian play, with one part depicting the "commoners" like the "chorus" would function, and the other part focusing on aristrocratic drama.  The commoners part was very humorous--they are at a party and so show all the drunken-ness and promiscuity that goes along with scene.  At one point, a group of men pass around a girl...by the ankles.  Another man makes a pass on another girl and she slaps him.  A mother is angered and walks off stage haughtily by tiptoe-ing on her point shoes very quickly so that her skirts look flustered.  This was a great comic relief to the aristocratic scenes, which follows the sad story of three sisters and the men in their lives.  It was very well done.  And lastly, Theme and Variation concluded the ballet--a very traditional Tchaikovsky piece.  When the curtain rose up on the opening scene, the audience literally gasped in sheer wonder at the beauty of the costumes.  It was kind of funny actually at the predictability of it.  But it was lovely at the same time that so many people had such a reaction.  I will forever be amazed at that toe-pulsing thing they can do in point shoes...just stepping back and forth quickly in one place to give the body of the formations movement--most impressive.  It was wonderful ending to a great performance.

After about 4 weeks of great experiences, I am now beginning to embark on the more serious side of school--deadlines.  I have my very first paper due in about 2 weeks time--my very first British-style paper to be written, by me, and up to my standards but in this new system, in about 2 weeks, and I am feeling rather lost as to what to do.  Questions will be asked, research will be done, but still.  Deadlines make me nervous. 

And also: I have more pictures to post from the ballet and from around my school campus, but I haven't put them up yet.  Just be aware that they exist and you'll see them eventually when I have some more time. :)       

The Wax House

Most people may be fairly creeped out by living directly across from a wax figures museum.  Almost like living next to a cemetery...in Detroit...(I do miss spending time at your house Julie Smyth!)  But for us residences of Marylebone Hall, it's one of the sights we see everyday--like the BT tower or the enormous statue of Sherlock Holmes.  So, my flatmate Reena and I decided that because we lived so close to Madam Tussaud's, we HAD to go see it.  We both have Wednesdays free from classes (which is quite nice...I like having Wednesdays off.  Especially compared to last year when Wednesdays were my longest days, starting at 8:30 in the morning with a class and going until 11 at night ending with my Writing Center shift).  Anyways, at this same time one of Reena's friends from home, Katie, was coming to visit.  She had coupons to make the tickets a bit cheaper, so it was decided.  We were going.   
We knew we had to have an early start in the morning--otherwise queing to just get in the door would take forever.  (The English's English:  QUEUE:  a line, the action to stand in line, lining up.  the queue, to queue, queueing.)  So got up around 9, I made pancakes for breakfast.  (American pancakes....none of those thin, minimal syrup, got no body or substance British pancakes...thick, cake-like, delicious American pancakes.  YUM!) and soon after crossed the street to stand in the respectably sized line that had already formed down the sidewalk.  We only waited outside about 25 minutes, which we thought wasn't  too bad.  They had mimes to keep us entertained, trapsing up and down the sidewalks.  But it wasn't until we entered the building that we realized that waiting outside was just the tip of the iceberg.  In fact, the whole first floor of the expansive Novi-Expo-Center-sized first floor was a zig-zag of one long continous line that criss-crossed up stairs and spiraled through multiple corridors.  Fortunately, there were some wax figures and displays to keep  you entertained while you wait, and it gave Reena, Katie, and I a chance to just talk for a good hour and half.  So the wait was actually one of the highlights of the day.  Eventually, we made it to the reception desk, paid for our tickets, and were escorted into a lift that popped us out in the middle of the rich and famous...wax replicas.

To try to describe the figures themselves would be an injustice...so check out the pictures I've posted on facebook, both on my page and the Zink Link page.  There are lots, be forewarned!

The only part of the exhibit we didn't take any pictures in was the "Chamber of Horrors" part--mostly because we were legitimately scarred through the whole thing and didn't even think to capture our terror on film...er, I guess that phrase has to be altered to pixels now, right?  Anyways, it was a short, walk-through tour, about 10 min. only.  But they had live actors running through it.  (Eva and Mackenzie, think of the ghost tour we took in Boston, choir people, think of the vaults tour we took in Edinburgh).  Even I was shaken, and I am typically not too jumpy when it comes to displays like that.  But when an actor got about an inch away from my face without me noticing and waited for me to turn and I literally yelped...while I was still in line to enter the exhibit, I knew this time would be different.  All three of us holding hands, we tentitively walked through the first door, not sure what to expect, passing by prisons filled with actors moaning and groaning and screaming.  Then one of the prison doors opened and we had a person chase us through a maze portion of the set.  At one point, someone lept off some platform from high up and landed right in front of us and at another point, a grotesquely made-up actor got mere inches away from us and cornered us for a while.  Our only consolation was that we knew they were allowed to touch us.  Eventually running the rest of the way out, we concluded it was a pretty awesome exhibit! haha.

Once we left the museum (it took about two and half hours to go through completely), we decided to grab some lunch and do a little shopping on Oxford Street.  We went to a store called PriMark...which is basically...well, imagine if Costo was extremely high class, and only sold clothing and shoes and bags, etc.  That is a PriMark.  Great stuff, cheap prices, TOTAL CHAOS!  I remember thinking "can't wait until we get inside this store, the crowds on the sidewalk are getting to be too much."  But then we entered the store and the crowds got worse!  But well worth it.

It was quite a good day, especially since it was a Wednesday.  I do love Wednessdays!    

Let's Go to the Theatre

This past week I had my first London theatre experiences.  The first was "The Big Fellah" at the Lyric Hammersmith theatre.  The play was about the IRA during the decades leading up to the 9/11 attacks.  It was a rather serious play, but it was really good.  It was funny to hear British people attempt to do American accents.  The most hilarious one the actor playing an Irish New Yorker living in the Bronx...yea, that accent most definitely wasn't accurate haha.  But it was still good just the same. 

I also saw Henry IV part 1 at the Globe, which I liked much more.  I wish I had read the play before I saw it, but it was actually kind of interesting to witness it like someone who during Shakespeare's time couldn't have read the play beforehand.  I could make out the gist of the storyline, but that was completely secondary to the acting, the gestures, the expressions, and the energy the actors had.  It was a great performance.  And Roger Allam played Falstaff, and aparently Allam is a quite famous British theatre actor, so it was cool to see such a professional so close.  I did notice that his level of performance had a marked higher quality than the others before I found out who he was in class two days later.  The Globe itself was amazing.  I expected it to be bigger, more fancy, and catering to the elite.  But really, that is not what the theatre was about at all.  It catered to the masses.  It felt more like a rustic, lived-in living room than a theatre.  I sat dead center in the upper balcony, so I could see all the people in the groundling section.  The audience was interesting to watch as well--it was all very casual, as people ate and had small side conversations and looked around.  I liked the atmosphere a lot. 

The chorus parts of Shakespeare's plays now make way more sense than they ever did from just reading them.  When you read, they stick out and don't really contribute to the overall plot and seem like something that should be cut out.  But, when performed, they really do act as a comic relief.  The bar scenes of this play were my favorite because they had tons of energy and music and dancing and often included some audience participation.  The other part I enjoyed was Hotspur's death scene.  Yes, I've always known Shakespeare tends to side with the melodramatic when it comes to death (Hamlet much, yes?) but to actually watch it...I'm not going to lie, it is just as funny when done seriously as when done in a mocking fashion.  Hotspur took a grand total of 10 minutes to die from a direct stab in the heart...all the while explaining away and offering his opinion.  And to make it even funnier, everyone else on stage at the point on the battlefield were dead, so this soliloquy was spoken to no one in particular, just the audience.  haha. It was good.  I loved it.

I have pictures--they will be on my Zink Link group page on facebook, along with the pictures of my room that I've already put up.