![about the liveness of live theater]()
by Christina Waters | Oct 14, 2015 | Home |
So, anyway, yes it was and always is worth whatever you can pay to be in the theater, in the moment that the play’s the thing.
Digital images of a van Gogh painting will give you the basic nuts and bolts of color, composition, and overall import. But they will never give you the history of the painter’s marks, the choices of when to make this gesture, or when to use cobalt instead of ultramarine. The exact thickness of an agonized brush stroke. For that you need to be face to face with the actual oil painting.
It is a mutual pact of energy between the actors and the audience. To be in a darkened theater, feeling the collective breathing of the audience as it responds to the smallest, sudden, unique gesture of the actor’s voice and body. To be completely there, and ready when the smallest new innovation, and unplanned physical grace note erupts, only that once, from the ensemble on the stage—this searing fairytale intimacy is why you endure arduous travel, long hours, uncomfortable seats, a paucity of ladies rooms, whatever it takes, because in the living moment of performance the artwork becomes immortal.
The actors work not only with cerebral intelligence, but with bodily intelligence. The intelligence of the fingers, the feet, the voice. At any unplanned moment they may deliver a line through the raising of one eyebrow. The audience murmurs its agreement. In the case of Cumberbatch last week, he may reinforce the anger of a decision with a single leap onto the table, or the slowing, growling, snarl of a single word.
We are there. We are with him. Our bodies hum. And he can sense it. It is an intense dance—when it’s done right. That’s why you’re in that seat, that darkened camera obscura of the imagination. The man who put the definitive sheen on the English language (Wm. Shakespeare) lives most fully in those moments of performance. All the rest is archival recording. Sweet and important, but nowhere near the eros and eternity of live performance.
You know what I’m talking about. You know I’m right. I worked hard and saved up. It was worth the trouble and the planning. The problem with it all is that once you experience this level of theatrical performance, you can’t go back.
by Christina Waters | Aug 14, 2015 | Home |
Is it too late for Shakespeare? I don’t mean the powerful texts themselves, the probing psychological depths, and brilliant literary analysis of what it is to be human—you know, the stuff that William Shakespeare, hard-working playwright, bequeathed to everyone who loves the English language.
No. What I’m asking is, is it too late for young, Selfie Generation audiences to actually sit through a performance of a Shakespeare play? Have they the attention span? Are they capable of submitting themselves to un-ironic moments of joy, sorrow, terror? Do they even know what the words (or scenarios) mean?
Since I’m asking, I’ll answer: not “no they don’t,” but “hell no they don’t!”
Given what I’ve seen lately in a certain redwood glen very very close (more…)
by Christina Waters | Aug 13, 2015 | Home |
While no one—and I mean no one—will sympathize with me, it’s tough being a critic. The smaller the arena, the harder it is to tell the truth. Why? Well, because essentially no one wants to hear it.
Oh everybody wants to hear the good news. They insist on teasing out the positive soundbites, the lines that can be pulled out and used for advertising purposes. Or to put on their Facebook site. Or to tear out of the paper and carry around in their wallets for the rest of their lives.
Yes, everybody thanks me when I provide feedback that supports their claims to be great at what they do. That’s when people are glad they can point out that someone whose opinion is respected has just praised them.
That’s what words of praise are: rewards for work well done.
So it only undermines genuine praise if (more…)
by Christina Waters | Aug 10, 2015 | Home |
We abandoned our usual order of the caprese sandwich and dove into a bowl of housemade pozole topped with slices of ripe avocado and joined by a wee biscuit, spiced and seasoned into something both tender and tasty. Good, good, good!
When at Iveta, we always order a tall, cool, muddled lemonade!
by Christina Waters | Aug 7, 2015 | Home |
I had an unsatisfying dinner the other night at a place out in the Pleasure Point neighborhood. New chef offering a new ambitious menu. But from start to finish things were just off enough to make me regret the $100 spent on dinner for two.
Red wine served much too warm—and this is a problem for many restaurants. Please treat wine with respect, and don’t make the patron have to reach into the water glass for an ice cube.
Wait staff untrained. Bringing an appetizer before bringing plates for sharing, not knowing details of the menu.
Make sure that whoever is cooking actually tastes the food before sending it out. We had a paté that was dry as styrofoam. It wouldn’t have taken much to whip up a mustard sauce, or an aioli, or even a chutney to provide along with the dish. But nothing accompanied the paté to help coax moisture into the experience. Clearly no one in the kitchen realized just how dry it was.
An entree of flat iron steak arrived almost cool to the touch, practically raw (I had asked for “between rare and medium rare”), and accompanied by legumes that lacked any seasoning whatsoever. Again, no one is tasting the food.
When I asked our waiter if the steak could be cooked a bit more, I was told “that is medium.”
Stop right there! No restaurant employee—manager or waiter—should ever tell the customer (more…)
