mockturle06: (Avengers)

I was going to say no weeds or household chores were hurt in the making of this post, but I did have a bit of a hack at the jungle on Sunday, and I was bitten by four spiders, or one spider four times, I wasn’t really keeping track.

And I ended up having to do the washing after all, despite the BOM promising a day of clouds and showers. I had my playlist all worked out in my head and I then woke to blue skies and sunshine. I felt abused.

Never did get near that playlist because my phone played up properly, my laptop went bung and my old tablet, the last refuge of a scoundrel, had 500 updates to process, as I’d been using phone and laptop instead of late. Just not my day.

Saturday was better. Didn’t go to the science march, I know, I know, but I wasn’t sure if I should (job politics) and besides, I’d already arranged a pilgrimage to Beatdisc on Record Shop Day, thence (look, I saved and reused one of those thences I edited out from my arcane documents) to see the NT Live screening of Hedda Gabler.

Missed the rush at the record shop, and there was still plenty of, I was going to say cool stuff, but that would not be strictly true. More a collection of items of curiosity to enthral and amaze. I certainly found a few things that made my inner teen squee. Though at the till later the record shop dude took one look at the purchase I’d but on top and pronounced that the store was a scared space and there was no judgement there. Then he saw the purchases I’d been hiding underneath. Silence. Scanner boops. More silence.

Oh dear. Well, one was a joke purchase because I’d previously referenced the band when reading a dry technical glossary and said it all sounded like new wave album titles and I could see the vinyl onesies already. Then, when I went to the Belvoir to see The Dog/The Cat, that very band started playing on the tannoy as I sat down in the bar/foyer. So when I found their vinyl offering in the very cheap pile, well, I figured I ought to, since it was obviously meta meme of the week. One has to just go with it, you know?

So, onto Hedda Gabler. I do not like the play, because Hedda is a flaming hellbeast of a mega-bitch who destroys other people out of boredom and deserves everything she gets, vacuous she-demon that she is. But it’s one of those plays actors and directors love more than the audience, I think (I’ve yet to meet anyone who has ever seen a version say they liked it, quite the opposite) so it’s frequently staged, and with actors worth seeing. So I go.

And I adore Ruth Wilson, I’ll see anything she’s in, even this, and she almost made me feel sorry for Hedda. Almost. Yes, very artistic, turning the blinds into nourish prison bars to represent how trapped she was, but she did it to herself, for no reason. That’s the problem with staging it in the modern day – why doesn’t she just leave? In the era in which it was written there were less options for women (no jobs, bank accounts or property) but now, it’s not good, but it’s not impossible. Why make such a mess?

Ah well, it’s always easier to be on the outside looking in. The Sarah McLachlan interludes (I think it was SM) were more amusing than intended because I’d only just been thinking of the big Buffy finale that week and humming Sarah McLachlan to myself, so it was a bit meta to see the histrionics to the old Sarah McLachlan tunes, it was like seeing someone else make the same creative choices, and wondering if I should, too (yes, probably, it’s all very Hedda in my head world).

So I liked that, and I liked how Ruth made her so manipulative and more than a bit mad.

There was a line when Kyle Soller walks on about how his aunt is pleased to see him alive and well. I seconded that, as I kind of loved him in Poldark. He seemed to be using something near his native accent here, but it kind of worked, and is still playing the good-hearted and clueless cuckold, but hey, that’s his thing and he did it well. Often the role is played as deserving of betrayal, but here he was simply a man-boy well out of his depth, and there was a sweetness and naiveté there that engendered sympathy. He’d simply tied himself to the tail of a hellcat out of bedazzlement and a sort of wishful thinking, and didn’t really deserve everything that happened. Anyways, I love Kyle.

And Rafe Spall. Oh my. I know I’ve not been keeping up with my British telly since it all moved to the premium channels, but since when did Rafe turn from young oik to hot stuff? Because, man, hot sex on a stick. I know the judge is supposed to be mad, bad and dangerous, an apex predator, but, man, sign me up. He stalked and swaggered about the set in a very sharp suit, and the scene where he throws Hedda about and spits tomato juice all over her, that gave me very confusing feelings. Whimper.

Oh yes, those boys. Poor Kyle wrestling noodles every night and Rafe rinsing and spitting the tomato juice. Every night, and twice with matinees. Properly actorly stuff, boys. I applaud your commitment.

So, even though I don’t like the play and loathe the character, and setting it in contemporary times made it just look like one of those HBO shows of rich people behaving badly (if it was Midsomer or Lewis there’d have been a nice juicy murder before the last act), the performances were stunning, so well worth the ticket.

And besides, I rounded off the day with yum cha and bad 80s vinyl. My idea of a grand day out.

Oh, one last bit about The Dog/The Cat, what with all the tech going whizz fizz this week I didn’t notice, but Lally Katz, who wrote The Cat, liked my tweet about liking their Battlestar Galactica joke.

Oh my, I must remember that some people find and read my posts (usually I work to the sound of silence and presume I’m just talking to myself in an empty room).

Ian Rankin also liked my tweet about Beatdisc, the local vinyl emporium, so my likes page is worth printing and framing right now. Squee.

Sorry, just had to share with someone, somewhere, anyone. Because squee.

Sunday we made eggs ala Sir Ian McKellen, which, by the way, is now the go-to recipe, and I was thinking how I’d collected recipes posted by Ian McKellen, Tom Hiddleston and Hugh Jackman. All Marvel boys, I noted, and I’d seen them all on stage, more than once.  That’s the Marvel universe, proper theatre actors who can cook.

The DC boys? I’ve never seen any one of them on stage, I don’t think many have ever been on stage, ever anyway, and I’ve never seen a recipe posted. Can’t act, can’t cook. I think I might have put my finger on the reason why Marvel films are way better than DC. Get you a man who can do both.

I know, I shouldn’t write stuff like that, you never know who might see it, but no-one ever reads this, and the point still stands, the Marvel boys have way, way more theatre creds than the DC boys (do they have any?) and I have lost count of the number of Marvel actors I’ve seen on stage (Ian McKellen, Patrick Stewart, Hugh Jackman, James McAvoy, Benedict Cumberbatch, David Tennant, Cate Blanchett, Rose Byrne, Chiwetel Ejiofor, David Wenham, William Hurt, Elizabeth Debicki…). DC actors: 0.

I mean, sure, the DC boys can fill out a t-shirt, but hasn’t the genre moved on from the 80s? (Any DC actor who does have theatre creds gets a pass but I can’t recall hearing of any appearing on stage in London or New York, so, you know).

In fairness, TV DC does fare better, with the casts of Preacher and the Arrowverse, although, Preacher aside, that’s mainly musicals (she sniffs). Not sure if Lucifer’s Tom Ellis has ever strut the boards (but Lucifer is back on telly and so far so fun).

And anyway, I’m allowed to be pissy and grizzly. Today is the day I was supposed to see Jude Law live on stage in Obsession at the Barbican. And I’m not. I had third row – whimper. I’d hoped I’d be better from being hit by the car, but nope, and the double family tragedy means no visits, and the house repairs mean no money, so, nope. NT Live it is, then. At least there’s that. Thank fuck there’s that. But you know – pout (even if it did promise to be entirely the sort of Euro-theatre I’m not that keen on). I’m missing Jude, dammit.

I’ve never seen a recipe from Jude, but I’m sure if I asked nicely. It’s the nicely part that will always trip me up. Ah well, maybe that’s why I hate Hedda. Takes one to know one.

The wonderful world of weird: https://plus.google.com/u/0/113197665355692280218/posts (warning: contains ivory dildos and Pine)

mockturle06: (mr flibble)
So I did the whole Hugo A Go Go thing on the weekend. We were studying Les Misérables in philosophy class as part of our examination of what is a 'good man' and I heard about the exhibition, so, ticking the 'educational' box, off I went.

I think it's really cool, these cities that tie together exhibitions, in this case, Les Misérables, the musical, was playing down in Melbs, so the library down there is hosting an exhibition on the man, the manuscript and the musical.

Yes, the actual manuscript of Les Misérables (gosh and golly!) with scribbles, and the inky quills used to write it, and photos of the man bent over his desk. Wow (though my favourite photo was of M. Hugo straddling a chair ala Christine Keeler, it bemused).

There were also old maps of Paris, photos taken by the Hugo family, books of like minded contemporaries (Dickens, Dumas, etc.), posters of film and theatre versions (the drawing of the 1920s Japanese actor as Jean Valjean will be haunting my nightmares for days to come), copies of international editions, a really cute mashup of all the various film versions to make a ten minute movie in the theatrette, costumes from the film and stage productions, videos, music, props, more posters. Yep, everything you ever wanted to know about Les Mis and then some.

I thought I'd have to elbow people out of the way to get a glimpse of the cabinets, but no. How sad. People, they have the frickin manuscript there. The Actual Book.
more: elementary )
mockturle06: (matt and tim)
You know, I could wring my hands over drowned polar bears and flooded islands as well as the next bleeding heart pinko greenie, but when I hear that pasty little Englishmen are contemplating wearing shorts in the city, this is where I must draw the line. No, no, a thousand times no. We must stop this outrage and do something about climate change and warming trends. Now. This instant!

No one should ever have to see an Englishman's knees. It's just too terrible to contemplate.
more: look what they did to my show, ma )
mockturle06: (Fassbender)
Bless the Google doodle. They've had some beauts lately, and it is so often one of the few things to raise a smile these days, which is terrible, but the world is a much meaner place these days.

Nobody has time for meandering eccentrics these days, it's A Type arseholes, and isn't it grand. Just look at all those bankers and hedge fund managers, all those disgraced and/or arrested so called sporting heroes. Those so called sportsmen make this cynic smile bitterly, as recent press would seem to prove that this type are the same poisonous violent bullies they always were in the schoolyard.

With all these bullies roaming about, it's no wonder it's so difficult for those who don't fit the narrow deinition of acceptable these days. Sigh. Sometimes I think Wllie Loman in Death of a Salesman isn't the isolated incident of a loser who couldn't cut it, but the canary in the coalmine.

There should be more to life than screwing over the other guy. There should be.

Oh, apparently it's not just my imagination. It's in the water: Anti-anxiety drug in water makes fish fearless.

Anyways, went off to Canberra to see the TOULOUSE-LAUTREC: PARIS AND THE MOULIN ROUGE exhibition at the NGA, as part of my running away from home thing.
more: decadence for art's sake )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
I shall tell you about the philosophy class I went to on Saturday. They're held every so often and I usually don't disciuss them as they're a bit of private fun for me but as I had to give up my ticket event due to extreme ooginess, philosophy it is. I love these classes. I really do. I love the tutor, who has something of a cult following, but he's reallt good, and I love the way we discuss the text before having to read it, which is so much easier than the other way around. I love that,because these are only like community college courses, we only have to read selected extracts and not whole books, because, personally, I don't have the time (would that I could) so while I only get a surface view of the issues, at least I've been made aware of their existence.

I love the use of film to illustrate points, because it really helps clarify obscure ideas, and it also flips films I've seen before and makes me look at them in entirely new and thoughtful ways. There's a reason why I chose these instead of any writing courses. I couldn't do both (the tyranny of time and money) but I think these help more, they remind me of or introduce me to grand themes and concepts that run through so many media forms these days (films, books, comics, tv, etc).

I also love the films he picks, introducing me to films I've never seen before, but should have, especially the older films, which I often only recognise through later shameless ripoffs and homages. It's certainly made my Amazon purchases and recommends list more able to be seen in public - grin (yes, I buy the dvds, still no broadband, sigh).

I also enjoy meeting smart people and having conversations that don't involve the latest cricket scores (kill me now). I am so lonely and starved of good conversation that these courses are like a feast or fix for me. I feel like I've taken my poor, shrunken brain out for a run, even if it does return panting like my old dog.
more: game of thrones, game of remotes )

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