Saturday, July 30, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Macbeth, Demon Wolves and Thai Food
Last night I went to see a production of Shakespeare's Macbeth put on by the illustrious Rep21 theatre group at Theatre Passe Muraille in Toronto. I've seen enough Canadore Theatre Arts plays, now, that I almost feel as if I know the actors and members of the company, when in actuality I think I've met two or three and only really know one. My friend Dave, however, was in the lead role and so I could hardly pass up the chance to grab a couple friends and make an evening out of it.
At the intermission, I walked up to one of my friends, who isn't very familiar with the story, and remarked that "I had forgotten how dark this play is." It's been a long time since I read Macbeth in grade 10. The opening scene was quite shockingly occult-ish and intimidating, which I can tell was the director's intent. There is a lot of hyper-sexualized occult activity and violence in this play. And some fore-warned "strong language, Shakespeare-style". I'm not one of those Christians who rejects violence and evil in our art because it's evil. The function of art is as a reflection of humanity and construction of meaning. And I found myself given much to meditate on, spiritually, after experiencing this play. I don't think I could have been the one on stage, but then God hasn't gifted me with the actor's craft of separation of self, and I don't mind Him withholding it. Suffice to say, that when I tell you it's rough around the edges, it's not as a word of condemnation, but mostly a caveat against bringing the whole family. Just because Shakespeare is a classic doesn't make him safe for the kids.
After sleeping (a couple hours) on it, I find myself thinking about the character of Macbeth. I suppose charting his course is a main purpose of the play. Although the director's interpretation of the play put most of the agency for the evil decisions that are made into the hands of witches, we see from the very first the tiny seeds of murderous ambition in Macbeth's character. It doesn't take much. Somehow, when I first read the play, I felt like it was the story of the greedy Lady Macbeth cajoling, seducing and bullying her husband into becoming more ruthless, and then gradually losing control of the monster she's created. That's certainly still part of the story, but the seed of evil was in Macbeth's heart from the word go. I think this is important, not only to make playing the transformation of Macbeth less stupefyingly sharp, but also because I recognize the seed. His is strong enough to vocalize itself when he's speaking with the witches. But I recognize the vaulting ambition and murderous intent, nestled capable but mercifully dormant in my own heart. We're all capable of it. One of the things a year and a half ago that my history class examined was the transformation of Nazis and other Germans who participated in the Holocaust. Were they really ordinary men who did unspeakable evil? Yes and no. They were a bit special, and there were a lot of mitigating factors. But they were also pretty normal guys. Wives, children, mortgages. Every mass murderer was a baby once. Was cute and adorable and maybe even nice to his/her playmates once. My uncle once said that everybody has a story that will break your heart. I think it's true, but I think the reverse is true, too. Everybody has had at least one story to restore your heart, even the most evil and most heinous our species has produced.
It is because of all this that I found myself watching Macbeth's descent into depravity, ruthlessness and also genuine madness as a lens for the ease with which this transformation could happen to anyone. Shakespeare has hit, I think, upon a key component of what makes us human: massive potential for ill. Now, if I had been director of this particular play I think I would have made some different choices, because we're given the increasing notion that the witches, as puppet-masters, have orchestrated all of this to happen to serve some dark purpose. I know there are malevolent powers in this world and that they do hold some influence over men's hearts and minds. But the transfer of blame from Macbeth and Lady Macbeth to their arcane puppeteers is too easy. It was a bit too heavy-handed for my taste. The seed of murder and greed and ambition rests in our nature, but we make conscious decision to water it and cultivate it. Only after this Macbeth had been led along by the hand, even physically embodied to do the deed, did we begin to see him take the slightest bit of evil initiative. We almost can't blame him for killing Duncan because he's some kind of spirit proxy for the "wolf demon". And this I think is a valid artistic choice, but one with which I would contend. When I do ill, and I do it often enough to know, I'm not the plaything of some demonic force. I make a choice. I know what God requires of me and His heart. I see the consequences of my disobedience, and I choose to value something else higher than His love. If my sin were the dalliances of a puppet, I could not be held accountable for the blood on my hands and the cross would have no purpose. It is a common enough thing, I think, to believe as this director believes, but I think it's cheap. It's easy morality. I would have preferred a reluctant but eventually-willing participant Macbeth.
This of course, is by no means an indictment of anything other than the director's interpretation of the play. I thought the spirit-seizing scenes where particularly chilling, and my complements to David Johnson, Amy Allyn, and the rest of the cast on some captivating acting. Especially because I know Dave, this was such a rapturing transformation from what he usually plays and I know this process must have been very trying on him mentally, physically (lots of open-shirt scenes. Awoo-ga!), and spiritually.
Oh, I only had one other criticism, which was that the not-so-subtle homosexuality subtext between Seyton and Macbeth was thoroughly irrelevant. I think I understand why it's there, but it was distracting and never sufficiently explored so as to matter in the rest of the play. I think we could have done without it. And that way, they could have dressed Seyton in a less strikingly-foxish black leather outfit. And less eye makeup, too.
By far the epic moment of the play was the claymore sword fight, and even if you're not liking the super-Scottish aesthetic of the play, the blue paint and big broadswords make up for it at the end. I thought one of the actors or even audience members was going to die! Those swords were really big and heavy for such a small stage.
In all, I had quite an experience at the theatre last night; well worth the gas, parking and ticket (oh and dinner at a nice thai place right there, but I've never written a restaurant review and don't feel like trying right now). I think my friends, who've never met Dave, might have gotten the wrong idea of the kind of guy he really is, but the play was very enjoyable and, as you can see, gave me lots to think about. I think Rep21's run is pretty much wrapped up now, and I congratulate all the members of the company on a wonderful set of shows that I think are themselves fitting reward for so much hard work over the past several months.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
English
I used to think I had a pretty big vocabulary. For a guy my age, anyway. Considering I spent a lot more time video-gaming and TV-watching than the more typical bookworm, it's a wonder my "verbiage veers most verbose" as it does (credit to "V for Vendetta").
Of course, now I teach ESL.
No better sense of the contrast between the guarded, slow, low-vocab way of speaking necessary for my students' understanding and my other life can be given then the day last week when I went downtown with my maiden faire to see an open-air Shakespeare performance. I used to drink in the bard on first reading. I've never read or seen Twelfth Night, and so maybe that was part of the problem, but it took me until the second act before I was properly following the dialogue. Oy vey. By the second act, it's hard to follow the play because you've missed the setup for the story. Thankfully, one of the older actors, playing Sir Toby, spoke appallingly slowly and unnaturally so I had brain-time, in some of his longer speeches, to background-process what I'd seen before.
Of course, the next morning I was now restraining not only the usual three-syllable words that usually flow quite pleasingly off the tongue, but also a host of shan'ts, doths, wherefores and dosts.
I think however, the art of speaking at an understandable hearing level is much like the art of speaking with an accent that is not your own. Start with a caricature and work with it until it becomes more natural. It makes the transition sharper, and thus easier to delineate. So today I've started *much* slower and simpler. I say everything two or three times. It's a price I'm willing to pay so that I can come home and read Asimov. Or watch the news. Anderson Cooper or Piers Morgan; watching Fox would be like being back at work.
Ultimately, however, I'm confronted daily with the inevitable conclusion that this language we speak is exceedingly silly. It follows none of its own rules, its subtleties of implication are almost impossible to spot in the naked grammar, and there are just so many more words in it than we ought to need. I know it must seem rich, coming from me, but English is too darned complicated. It's a real shame that the language of international business and government isn't something more straightforward like Spanish or Japanese.
The thing I think has affected me the most so far is an odd sense of humbling. These kids have come/been sent from all over the world, literally. They're here to learn my language. The main thing that makes me capable of teaching them is the accident of history that I was born in a place that speaks it. Something over which I've had little control. Certainly, I didn't have to be well-spoken or literate if I hadn't worked at it. I didn't have to be a qualified teacher except that I pursued it and had opportunity to go to school. But why my language? Why didn't I go to Mexico or Korea to learn from them? I know there are a number of sensible, logical reasons, but I don't think it's a sensible problem. Or question, anyway. I'm not losing sleep over it.
Lunchbreak is just about over, so the post is too. Time enough now to readjust and speak with care and great tact. Enjoy the words, I suppose they're the ones we've got
Of course, now I teach ESL.
No better sense of the contrast between the guarded, slow, low-vocab way of speaking necessary for my students' understanding and my other life can be given then the day last week when I went downtown with my maiden faire to see an open-air Shakespeare performance. I used to drink in the bard on first reading. I've never read or seen Twelfth Night, and so maybe that was part of the problem, but it took me until the second act before I was properly following the dialogue. Oy vey. By the second act, it's hard to follow the play because you've missed the setup for the story. Thankfully, one of the older actors, playing Sir Toby, spoke appallingly slowly and unnaturally so I had brain-time, in some of his longer speeches, to background-process what I'd seen before.
Of course, the next morning I was now restraining not only the usual three-syllable words that usually flow quite pleasingly off the tongue, but also a host of shan'ts, doths, wherefores and dosts.
I think however, the art of speaking at an understandable hearing level is much like the art of speaking with an accent that is not your own. Start with a caricature and work with it until it becomes more natural. It makes the transition sharper, and thus easier to delineate. So today I've started *much* slower and simpler. I say everything two or three times. It's a price I'm willing to pay so that I can come home and read Asimov. Or watch the news. Anderson Cooper or Piers Morgan; watching Fox would be like being back at work.
Ultimately, however, I'm confronted daily with the inevitable conclusion that this language we speak is exceedingly silly. It follows none of its own rules, its subtleties of implication are almost impossible to spot in the naked grammar, and there are just so many more words in it than we ought to need. I know it must seem rich, coming from me, but English is too darned complicated. It's a real shame that the language of international business and government isn't something more straightforward like Spanish or Japanese.
The thing I think has affected me the most so far is an odd sense of humbling. These kids have come/been sent from all over the world, literally. They're here to learn my language. The main thing that makes me capable of teaching them is the accident of history that I was born in a place that speaks it. Something over which I've had little control. Certainly, I didn't have to be well-spoken or literate if I hadn't worked at it. I didn't have to be a qualified teacher except that I pursued it and had opportunity to go to school. But why my language? Why didn't I go to Mexico or Korea to learn from them? I know there are a number of sensible, logical reasons, but I don't think it's a sensible problem. Or question, anyway. I'm not losing sleep over it.
Lunchbreak is just about over, so the post is too. Time enough now to readjust and speak with care and great tact. Enjoy the words, I suppose they're the ones we've got
News - July 21st
It's been too long. But, such is the first-sentence lament of too many bloggers in the web-o-sphere, so I shan't importune you, dear reader, any further on the subject.
Wedding planning has taken off furiously. For those of you who haven't had the joy of sitting in on one of our sessions, we hit the ground running. Hall, church, pastor, cake, dress, wedding party, preliminary guest list, decorations, invitations, menu and a number of other things are pretty much worked out. And so far with minimal bloodshed. Although, the two of us did have a proper fight the other day because I was appallingly stupid about something. We sorted it out, and I for one am actually a bit more excited now that we got a good test run of our conflict-resolution rhythms. We'll be ok. But I think that's sufficiently personal for the anonymous web.
This past weekend, we were making a pile of comparative notes at my sister's wedding, and she's now happily honeymooning in the tropical sun. It being so hot up here, I can't imagine what it's like closer to the equator. The wedding was gorgeous and everything fell into place nicely. I got a nice reminder about relaxing and not "thriving on chaos" at the reception, when the servers at the hall began to go off the itinerary I had been given. I was frantically reorganizing things and worrying about being behind schedule. The dj, who has more experience at this sort of thing than I do, recommended I relax and let people enjoy themselves. A reception isn't a classroom, it's a social function. With a little background music and beverages, people can fill dead air all by themselves and have a good time doing it. After that first little hump I found I was relaxing again, and though we were a *whopping* 15min behind at one point, everything came together ok by the end.
Work is work. There's a reason they call it labour. The worst part is the morning, before I've spoken to the students and I'm worrying about the plans I've put together. Once the kids arrive, it's ok. I rememeber why I'm a teacher. I remember that I'm not too bad at this job. I remember that I still know something they don't, and can help them understand it. Also, I'm about half-done, which isn't something many teachers can say after only 3 weeks. The camp thing is a pretty good gig, all things considered. Might be worth looking into some day between my summers being packed with AQs and later packed with family vacations.
So much for macro-news. In terms of micro (or perhaps nano) news, I realize now that the lunch I packed is almost entirely bread products. 2 muffins, 2 sandwiches. If I'd brought beer and a dinner roll, I'd be bringing home another pound or two of John then when I left. Maybe I don't really need to eat the muffins. Right away.
Aside from the wedding, and work, there's not much to report, I don't think...
Oh! For people who didn't come to the concert on the 9th but want a CD, track me or my illustrious homonymic counterpart to purchase one. If you buy one from me, the price has gone down to $5. Message/Email/Call/Carrier pigeon to confirm availability. The fundraiser that weekend was a big success, but mostly from admission and beverages; we still had a big stack of CDs there at the end of the night. So if you're inclined at all to hear the dulcet tones of your favourite Jo(H)n on beautifully edited (if slightly buggy) CD, or you want to hear me sing, too, then give a Jo(H)n a call. Or email. Or pigeon.
The last thing I can think to mention is that I'm making progress on my novel. Chapter 12 is done (in *very* rough) and I'm mildly stuck. I have two equally interesting and important directions in which my heroes are meant to go and I can't decide which can logically follow the other. I've suspected that passing the problem on to them in the book could be a sneaky way to avoid worrying about it, except that they aren't really real people and so thus, can't solve the issue without me first solving it for myself. I don't have a lot of natural sympathy for artists or authors who talk about their work as if it is a thing independant of themselves. Art, at best, is a mirror or lens of the person's inmost. It isn't a person itself anymore than a reflection, shadow, or photograph. Of course, I made that sound all definite when I'm actually quite open to being persuaded otherwise. I'm trying to cut back on starting off definite with a big fat opinion and later backing down. It gets me into trouble sometimes.
Well, that's the news that's fit to post, and then some other stuff. Enjoy your Thursday!
Wedding planning has taken off furiously. For those of you who haven't had the joy of sitting in on one of our sessions, we hit the ground running. Hall, church, pastor, cake, dress, wedding party, preliminary guest list, decorations, invitations, menu and a number of other things are pretty much worked out. And so far with minimal bloodshed. Although, the two of us did have a proper fight the other day because I was appallingly stupid about something. We sorted it out, and I for one am actually a bit more excited now that we got a good test run of our conflict-resolution rhythms. We'll be ok. But I think that's sufficiently personal for the anonymous web.
This past weekend, we were making a pile of comparative notes at my sister's wedding, and she's now happily honeymooning in the tropical sun. It being so hot up here, I can't imagine what it's like closer to the equator. The wedding was gorgeous and everything fell into place nicely. I got a nice reminder about relaxing and not "thriving on chaos" at the reception, when the servers at the hall began to go off the itinerary I had been given. I was frantically reorganizing things and worrying about being behind schedule. The dj, who has more experience at this sort of thing than I do, recommended I relax and let people enjoy themselves. A reception isn't a classroom, it's a social function. With a little background music and beverages, people can fill dead air all by themselves and have a good time doing it. After that first little hump I found I was relaxing again, and though we were a *whopping* 15min behind at one point, everything came together ok by the end.
Work is work. There's a reason they call it labour. The worst part is the morning, before I've spoken to the students and I'm worrying about the plans I've put together. Once the kids arrive, it's ok. I rememeber why I'm a teacher. I remember that I'm not too bad at this job. I remember that I still know something they don't, and can help them understand it. Also, I'm about half-done, which isn't something many teachers can say after only 3 weeks. The camp thing is a pretty good gig, all things considered. Might be worth looking into some day between my summers being packed with AQs and later packed with family vacations.
So much for macro-news. In terms of micro (or perhaps nano) news, I realize now that the lunch I packed is almost entirely bread products. 2 muffins, 2 sandwiches. If I'd brought beer and a dinner roll, I'd be bringing home another pound or two of John then when I left. Maybe I don't really need to eat the muffins. Right away.
Aside from the wedding, and work, there's not much to report, I don't think...
Oh! For people who didn't come to the concert on the 9th but want a CD, track me or my illustrious homonymic counterpart to purchase one. If you buy one from me, the price has gone down to $5. Message/Email/Call/Carrier pigeon to confirm availability. The fundraiser that weekend was a big success, but mostly from admission and beverages; we still had a big stack of CDs there at the end of the night. So if you're inclined at all to hear the dulcet tones of your favourite Jo(H)n on beautifully edited (if slightly buggy) CD, or you want to hear me sing, too, then give a Jo(H)n a call. Or email. Or pigeon.
The last thing I can think to mention is that I'm making progress on my novel. Chapter 12 is done (in *very* rough) and I'm mildly stuck. I have two equally interesting and important directions in which my heroes are meant to go and I can't decide which can logically follow the other. I've suspected that passing the problem on to them in the book could be a sneaky way to avoid worrying about it, except that they aren't really real people and so thus, can't solve the issue without me first solving it for myself. I don't have a lot of natural sympathy for artists or authors who talk about their work as if it is a thing independant of themselves. Art, at best, is a mirror or lens of the person's inmost. It isn't a person itself anymore than a reflection, shadow, or photograph. Of course, I made that sound all definite when I'm actually quite open to being persuaded otherwise. I'm trying to cut back on starting off definite with a big fat opinion and later backing down. It gets me into trouble sometimes.
Well, that's the news that's fit to post, and then some other stuff. Enjoy your Thursday!
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