What does Nature Theater of Oklahoma's No Dice, a 4-hour epic of sandwiches, accents and the occasional dance...
...have to do with tv shows like 30 Rock?
They're both royally post-post-modern in a meta fashion.
In the first clip, the performers in No Dice begin to discuss dinner theater. As their conversation progresses, their description increasingly resembles what they are actually doing - the goofy costumes, odd accents, inflated acting, etc. They are subverting the oddness of what they are describing by enacting it and, furthermore, have begun to fuck with conventions of accepting the inherent falsehoods of theater.
In the second clip, Liz Lemon talks about a wireless provider service with her colleague, only to turn and face the camera and directly address that same provider, asking where their check is. She has broken both the conventions of the tv fourth wall and of quietly accepting product placement.
Both the performance and the tv series have an awareness of the paradigms of their medium and a desire to display this awareness. In the past decade, more and more entertainment along these lines has populated the theater and creeped into mainstream television - Buffy the Vampire Slayer (toying with teen and horror genres), Family Guy (cartoons and tv), Mark Haim's Goldberg Variations (expectations of dance/movement vocabularies), etc.
It seems like an interesting trend to watch... But that interest could be influenced by the intoxicating combination of cheap sandwiches, dr pepper, a little whiskey, a lot of time in a vacant office space and a nightcap involving tv reruns on my laptop.
To take this out on a random note - the dance starting at 1:35 in the following video of No Dice will remain a highlight of things I've seen this year (listen carefully and you'll hear the performers proclaiming "I'm a sexy robot").
15 March 2009
14 March 2009
The unspeakable act
In 1973 the crimes of serial killer Dean Corll were unearthed. The combination of his appetite for strung out young boys and a tendency towards hypersadism proved ruthless as he wound his way through upwards of 20 victims.
In 2007 French director Gisele Vienne adapted a novella, JERK, about Corll by US author Dennis Cooper. The story was brought to the stage under the guise of a lecture of sorts - one of Corll's accomplices told the story of what had happened leading up the day of Corll's death. Using puppets and gruesome sound effects, the solo performer demonstrated the acts he had been present for and, when unable to talk about the crimes, he instead had the audience read from a zine he had constructed prior to the performance.
The masterful construction of the show had an emotional impact so strong that it became physical - it was as my stomach sank through me to anchor my body to the seat. This effect left me in a post-performance daze that lasted until the weekend was over. Once it lifted, one of the themes that struck me most was that of the unspeakable act (an act, a moment an idea that is so abhorrent that to talk about it is impossible) and how it was communicated throughout the show.
[An aside - to speak of something is to take steps towards comprehension and, in turn, ownership over an idea. I think we avoid this in some cases because we don't want to become even momentarily involved or acknoweledge involvement.]
In JERK we see different levels of ownership and avoidance of this act (or acts, as it were). I would divide it out into the production's use of the following:
PUPPETS This secondary medium (secondary in that the puppeteer speaks through it) allows the voice to be heard, but projects the actions onto a different object.
ZINES The actions are so awful that they can't be spoken. Instead they are written out, but remain unpronounced.
VENTRILOQUISM The actions are communicated through spoken words, but the lips and tongue refuse participation - the speaking organs reject their role in naming the act. The voice continues on, but the source of the words (the sight of the puppeteer in this case) is no longer recognizable.
DROOL The words will not remain dormant and force their way out in such a way that they become physical, in a liquid form.
In the above we see distancing, avoidance and, in some ways, acceptance as well. In the case of the latter two devices an interesting parallel to the story emerges and another layer is added on - complicity. David Brooks, the accomplice and the puppeteer in this play, was not directly involved in the murders or the torturing. He stepped back and often played the role of videographer. Towards the end he supposedly wanted it to all to be over; he no longer wanted to participate in the torture and the murder. But he did nothing to put it to an end; he sat back and let it happen. Fast forwarding to when he's in jail and trying to talk about what happened, he experiences something similar - he no longer wants to tell this story and own up to his role. The memories are overwhelming, but he remains complicit and unable to stop. His words go on, even as he physically shuts down.
So what bearing does this have on larger cases of the unspeakable? The case of JERK demonstrates how when we take a non-participatory stance, we are still connected whether or not we like it. The unspeakable will not just stop if it is avoided; if anything the consequences of such can be much larger (eg immaterial words becoming solid drool).
In 2007 French director Gisele Vienne adapted a novella, JERK, about Corll by US author Dennis Cooper. The story was brought to the stage under the guise of a lecture of sorts - one of Corll's accomplices told the story of what had happened leading up the day of Corll's death. Using puppets and gruesome sound effects, the solo performer demonstrated the acts he had been present for and, when unable to talk about the crimes, he instead had the audience read from a zine he had constructed prior to the performance.
The masterful construction of the show had an emotional impact so strong that it became physical - it was as my stomach sank through me to anchor my body to the seat. This effect left me in a post-performance daze that lasted until the weekend was over. Once it lifted, one of the themes that struck me most was that of the unspeakable act (an act, a moment an idea that is so abhorrent that to talk about it is impossible) and how it was communicated throughout the show.
[An aside - to speak of something is to take steps towards comprehension and, in turn, ownership over an idea. I think we avoid this in some cases because we don't want to become even momentarily involved or acknoweledge involvement.]
In JERK we see different levels of ownership and avoidance of this act (or acts, as it were). I would divide it out into the production's use of the following:
PUPPETS This secondary medium (secondary in that the puppeteer speaks through it) allows the voice to be heard, but projects the actions onto a different object.
ZINES The actions are so awful that they can't be spoken. Instead they are written out, but remain unpronounced.
VENTRILOQUISM The actions are communicated through spoken words, but the lips and tongue refuse participation - the speaking organs reject their role in naming the act. The voice continues on, but the source of the words (the sight of the puppeteer in this case) is no longer recognizable.
DROOL The words will not remain dormant and force their way out in such a way that they become physical, in a liquid form.
In the above we see distancing, avoidance and, in some ways, acceptance as well. In the case of the latter two devices an interesting parallel to the story emerges and another layer is added on - complicity. David Brooks, the accomplice and the puppeteer in this play, was not directly involved in the murders or the torturing. He stepped back and often played the role of videographer. Towards the end he supposedly wanted it to all to be over; he no longer wanted to participate in the torture and the murder. But he did nothing to put it to an end; he sat back and let it happen. Fast forwarding to when he's in jail and trying to talk about what happened, he experiences something similar - he no longer wants to tell this story and own up to his role. The memories are overwhelming, but he remains complicit and unable to stop. His words go on, even as he physically shuts down.
So what bearing does this have on larger cases of the unspeakable? The case of JERK demonstrates how when we take a non-participatory stance, we are still connected whether or not we like it. The unspeakable will not just stop if it is avoided; if anything the consequences of such can be much larger (eg immaterial words becoming solid drool).
13 March 2009
Culture of non sequiturs
This video serves as an excellent example of our culture that embraces and delights in non sequiturs. It counts among its disparate elements the act of punching, folks eating (or attempting to eat) a meal, ecstatic dances, a soundtrack of layered beeps and vocals, zombies, text, a Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego-esque tour of major cities/monuments and, in the final moments, a line ostensibly taken from a motivational poster hanging in a second grade classroom.
Now the first question might be why do all of these things need to be strung together? Some seem to come with a precedent (eg Michael Jackson's "Thriller" video with its zombies and dancing), yet others don't (punching someone just before they take a bite of their food?).
But the more interesting question is how does this SNL sketch become one of the most watched videos online? Somehow we've not only accepted this bundle of non sequiturs, but we, the community of people who have vorasciously clicked 'play again', have turned it into a hot little commodity. There's a cultural interest in this kind of material that fuels the creation of future bits of delightful oddity (the list of SNL digital shorts along these lines grows longer) that is utterly fascinating.
I bring this all up briefly because it's also a nice way of introducing a new endeavor in which I catalogue random associations . With Roland Barthes, Dennis Cooper and Tim Etchells as my personal trinity of inspiration (and a tip of the hat to Noam Chomsky and Rich Juzwiak), I kick off a new exercise that might include everything from posting various odds and ends to exploring the endless potential for intertextuality.
08 February 2008
Musings for a gray day
Another blogger recently made a post listing things that made her feel happy. Today seems like a good day to focus on the positives, so I'm making a list too (I did a mini version of this recently, but today is a good day to do it again). In no particular order, here goes:
1. Art that suspend my ability to speak coherently. I love when I'm confronted with something, be it a performance, something hanging from the wall, etc, that makes me stop and just bask for at least a moment in whatever it is. Its comforting to know that I can still experience that moment of Barthes' punctum. May that never go away.
2. Random moments with good friends. This week so far I have: gone walking in unexpected locations, dug through leaves, ate in a mom-n-pop diner, laughed at poor O'Keefe impersonators (re: orange and green vaginas), laughed about castration during international phone calls, got all gussied up for a night on the town, drank champagne while eating boxed mac-n-cheese and more. Even when my world gets rocked and all I want to do is lay in bed, I have people who not only get me out, but make me smile.
3. My YouTube debut. Ok, this is slightly ridiculous, but being in an 8 second video featuring a quick bout of relatively innocent flirtation with an attractive Italian man makes me smile. And hit the 'play again' button.
4. Cupcakes. I don't quite no how to put my finger on this, but there is something about a cupcake shop that makes me feel warm and fuzzy. Perhaps its the sugar particles swimming through the air as I drink in my tea and eavesdrop, or maybe its all the content faces biting into a thick layer of icing. Either way, its nice being here right now.
5. Hard times. This is something I'm coming to terms with. In the long run I know that these rough periods are unbelievably important and ultimately beneficial. The hurt and confusion going on right now is only going to make things better. I may not be loving it in the moment, but I'm working towards trusting that all will be amazing.
6. Toasts. The longer the better - preferably made with good friends and involving alternatively silly and meaningful content. I've made a couple so far this week and am looking forward to doing at least a few more over the weekend.
7. New opportunities. Sometimes I don't always recognize one when its right in front of me, but in my youth I can't help but feel like there are new chances, beginnings, etc just waiting for me. I can't wait to see where I am come December.
So this is a quick list and many things are left off, but suffice to say that I'm a lucky girl.
1. Art that suspend my ability to speak coherently. I love when I'm confronted with something, be it a performance, something hanging from the wall, etc, that makes me stop and just bask for at least a moment in whatever it is. Its comforting to know that I can still experience that moment of Barthes' punctum. May that never go away.
2. Random moments with good friends. This week so far I have: gone walking in unexpected locations, dug through leaves, ate in a mom-n-pop diner, laughed at poor O'Keefe impersonators (re: orange and green vaginas), laughed about castration during international phone calls, got all gussied up for a night on the town, drank champagne while eating boxed mac-n-cheese and more. Even when my world gets rocked and all I want to do is lay in bed, I have people who not only get me out, but make me smile.
3. My YouTube debut. Ok, this is slightly ridiculous, but being in an 8 second video featuring a quick bout of relatively innocent flirtation with an attractive Italian man makes me smile. And hit the 'play again' button.
4. Cupcakes. I don't quite no how to put my finger on this, but there is something about a cupcake shop that makes me feel warm and fuzzy. Perhaps its the sugar particles swimming through the air as I drink in my tea and eavesdrop, or maybe its all the content faces biting into a thick layer of icing. Either way, its nice being here right now.
5. Hard times. This is something I'm coming to terms with. In the long run I know that these rough periods are unbelievably important and ultimately beneficial. The hurt and confusion going on right now is only going to make things better. I may not be loving it in the moment, but I'm working towards trusting that all will be amazing.
6. Toasts. The longer the better - preferably made with good friends and involving alternatively silly and meaningful content. I've made a couple so far this week and am looking forward to doing at least a few more over the weekend.
7. New opportunities. Sometimes I don't always recognize one when its right in front of me, but in my youth I can't help but feel like there are new chances, beginnings, etc just waiting for me. I can't wait to see where I am come December.
So this is a quick list and many things are left off, but suffice to say that I'm a lucky girl.
05 February 2008
Something blue
I want to talk about pretension.
This weekend there was a lot of chatter about that term around the theater. It seemed like it got tossed around a fair amount when people were talking about the performance that happened. While everyone is surely entitled to their opinion, what I find disturbing about its usgae over the weekend is that it was rarely followed by an explanation. Mostly what followed that declaration was further indignance at the show.
From google.com, here are a couple quick definitions of the word:
making claim to or creating an appearance of (often undeserved) importance or
distinction; "a pretentious country house"; "a pretentious fraud ...
ostentatious: intended to attract notice and impress others; "an
ostentatious sable coat"
ostentatious: of a display that is tawdry or vulgar
These are fair and if that's how folks react to something, fine. I would think, however, that if someone thought of something (a performance, a painting, a person, etc) as being any of those things, they would be able to explain their reaction. But why doesn't that happen? My first instinct is that its a combination of laziness and indignance. They are not willing to consider the object any more than what they have only immediately experienced. To think through it would not be worth their time.
I also wonder if there is a fear that after thinking about the object, considering it in a new way, they might find that they think of it as something else. Its pretty widely accepted that first impressions may not be correct and that getting to know something further can change that initial reaction. To use the performance as an example, I'm still mentally approaching the show from different angles. My opinion of this show, my thoughts on it, emotions around it, all will continue to grow and change as I gain more experience and look back at it from different perspectives. Maybe they'll allow their opinion to change similarily, but if they don't, why? Is it fear of having to retract their statement? Pride?
Regardless, I think its interesting to hear people react that way. I have to quell an immediate urge to question them about their feelings and explore why they have come to that conclusion.
Also, about the performance (quickly, since its late) - it was like having my constitution shaken. The postshow high was as if all the creeping haze, oozing silicone, steamed perfume and carmelized lipstick had invaded my head. Seriously, my brain felt like it was floating in that odd combination of substances. Trying to work after the show was difficult and driving away from the theater and the world constructed by the company was even harder.
[Images from Societas Raffaello Sanzio and gif composed by my talented coworkers. Right now I want to crawl into that silicon goo and hibernate through the rest of this dark winter.]
19 January 2008
staying up late
69 Love Songs by The Magnetic Fields is creeping into my heart as I type this. Right now I only have volume 1, but I'm looking forward to acquainting myself with the other 2 volumes that make up the set.
[an aside to Stephen Merritt - please call my soul out of its grey place and invite it into the world that you are writing from.]
Randomness aside, this winter continues to be hard. A coworker proclaimed that this will be the year of good things after we all waded through a year of difficulty. I continue to wait for this to be true, but I'm still optimistic since only 2 1/2 weeks of the new year have passed. Eleven and a half hopefully glorious months are left to prove that this will be a year of goodness. This is not to say that much loveliness hasn't so far. Here's a shortlist:
-more time with friends (hello all - you continue to keep me grounded and happy)
-a few days at the cinema (Juno, There Will Be Blood, In the Mood for Love)
-a couple late night adventures filled with whiskey, karaoke, rooftop performances and other little delights
-finishing holiday books (Lolita)
-oh, and I guess this:
[an aside to Stephen Merritt - please call my soul out of its grey place and invite it into the world that you are writing from.]
Randomness aside, this winter continues to be hard. A coworker proclaimed that this will be the year of good things after we all waded through a year of difficulty. I continue to wait for this to be true, but I'm still optimistic since only 2 1/2 weeks of the new year have passed. Eleven and a half hopefully glorious months are left to prove that this will be a year of goodness. This is not to say that much loveliness hasn't so far. Here's a shortlist:
-more time with friends (hello all - you continue to keep me grounded and happy)
-a few days at the cinema (Juno, There Will Be Blood, In the Mood for Love)
-a couple late night adventures filled with whiskey, karaoke, rooftop performances and other little delights
-finishing holiday books (Lolita)
-oh, and I guess this:
Its the closest I can get to representing the decadence, beauty, love, lust and indulgence that filled my time in France. Hopefully this is only the first pair of mulled wines that will be consumed abroad in years to come. A bit of my heart remains at that cafe.
And now I must jump back into the January madness. Wish me luck!
25 December 2007
Time is on my side...
In less than 10 hours I'll be on a plane.
In less than 24 hours I'll be arriving in Paris.
Holy shit.
Let me back up a bit...
In the 8 months since I wrote last, a great deal has happened. A lot that is tedious and not worth repeating, a fair amount that left me wrecked and waiting for the day/night/week/month to be over, and a few surprisingly fantastic moments have surfaced as well. This is a year that has been full, but it is surely time for it to be done.
The operative word for the year seems to be 'sit' since that's about all I did. There have been other things, oh yes (for example: schemed, flirted, danced and absorbed), but nothing quite as overwhelmingly present as that first one. I'm ready to move beyond that and try something new. Which is good since lately I've had the sense that this next year could be just as chock-full of changes as the one that's about to come to a close...
So here's to the new year that is quickly approaching. And to new beginnings. And art. And friends. And lovers. And so very much more. (and maybe, just maybe, updating this regularly)
Cheers.
[The family's cat and dog, helping prepare Christmas dinner]
In less than 24 hours I'll be arriving in Paris.
Holy shit.
Let me back up a bit...
In the 8 months since I wrote last, a great deal has happened. A lot that is tedious and not worth repeating, a fair amount that left me wrecked and waiting for the day/night/week/month to be over, and a few surprisingly fantastic moments have surfaced as well. This is a year that has been full, but it is surely time for it to be done.
The operative word for the year seems to be 'sit' since that's about all I did. There have been other things, oh yes (for example: schemed, flirted, danced and absorbed), but nothing quite as overwhelmingly present as that first one. I'm ready to move beyond that and try something new. Which is good since lately I've had the sense that this next year could be just as chock-full of changes as the one that's about to come to a close...
So here's to the new year that is quickly approaching. And to new beginnings. And art. And friends. And lovers. And so very much more. (and maybe, just maybe, updating this regularly)
Cheers.
[The family's cat and dog, helping prepare Christmas dinner]
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