If you are really lucky, you get the chance to be in productions where you wish it wouldn’t end. At least once. I have been crazy for Crazy For You.
The reasons can be for anything; you love the role that you are playing, the show is going to Broadway, or like my case, the cast works so incredibly well together. We have celebrated birthdays for multiple people every single week of performances. We have laughed, been silly, stressed out, and danced ourselves sticky sweaty these last 10 weeks of rehearsals and performances.
It isn’t every show that I truly look forward to seeing every person every day. I feel a wee bit sad that I won’t get to see them as much. Even though I have left the theatre at the end of the night sometimes with the need to soak in an ice bath or a tub of icy hot and bruised up, I have had a truly wonderful time working alongside such an outstanding group of people from every aspect of this production.
Every drop of sweat, every achy muscle, and every bit of glue has been well spent. I think this little gem sparkles just right. But just for two more performances. Friday and Saturday…
It seems to me that in this modern day and time people don’t believe in love at first sight like we did when I was young.
As a young man, I lived a bit of a naive life in New York. I thought all I had to do was to just get to the right person and all the doors to the backstage of theatres would magically slam open for me. Mother always disliked the idea. She said repeatedly that “there is no way of making a living doing such useless things.” Nevertheless, I tried numerous times to catch the attention of Bela Zangler thinking that he was the key.
In a way, he was.
After the sixth audition that ended in an unbearably embarrassing fashion, (not that the others ended that much better) I knew that I probably would never get another shot. At least for a few years. My only shot was to see if my friends could smooth things over with Mr. Zangler. They were dancers in his show and he liked them well enough. Time was the big factor. Well, time and a few other people.
The problem was that both Irene, who was just a girlfriend who invited herself to be something more, and Mother, wanted me to follow in Father’s footsteps and be a “money man.” You see, what they didn’t know is that Father despised that life. Aside from the company parties and gentlemen clubs, there was no true passion in his life outside his marriage. He told me once that it was something he would always regret. He only committed to his job because of the power and life that came with it. Of course, Mother became accustomed to that life so when he passed she fought to keep his position on the board. But the difference was she enjoyed the challenge this brought her. This was her passion. Tangible, visually apparent and quantifiable results are what drove her. I don’t know if she understands the feeling of letting go of the pent up energy and emotion with a simple tap step or pirouette. The feeling of lightness that takes over the body and refuses to let gravity hold it down. Come to think of it, I don’t think I had ever seen her and Father dancing. Or just being silly.
When Mother sent me to Dead Rock, Nevada, I honestly just thought that it would be nice to get away from that voice of authority and that voice of control that was running my life in the city. I felt smothered and trapped. But out in the big openness of Nevada, I found a quiet that I couldn’t find anywhere.
Then I heard her.
Her voice sounded just like the openness and the fire that was causing that town to be so blazing hot. But that was nothing.
I picked myself up to look at that passionate voice and saw the little spit fire that I would chase until I caught. She was aglow with life. True life! Someone that had felt what hard work was but still looked effortlessly beautiful. Someone who earned all that she had and understood the value of what she earned. There was no pretense. She was exactly who I saw standing in front of me.
I think I would die.
I am not one for real world violence.
I don’t understand the need to hurt people. Doesn’t matter if it is emotional or physical. That’s why I can’t understand the popularity of MMA. Is there an innate bloodlust gene in us left over from our nomadic cave dwelling ancestors or maybe even further back?
Tonight I had tickets to see The Purge: Anarchy. I was anxious about seeing it all day. Specifically for the reason stated above. I know this is simply a movie.
The plot of the movie is that one night a year all crime is legal. The logic (?!!!) behind it is that you can get all your frustrations and grudges settled and be a model citizen for the entire rest of the year. Crime rates are way down and the gap between the haves and have-nots has miraculously shrank as well.
As the movie plays out, I began to see it as a story of profiteering through classism. Government or more specifically the military plays a role in the murder of innocent people in the movie for the sake of profit. Is it a subtle nudge to America saying “Wake the hell up, people?!” Could be.
I don’t want to spoil the story for you but when you find out about our unlikely anti-hero, it also sends a message of hope that even in the worst groups, there is a conscience.
While it made me anxious and unnerved and flinch A LOT, I really liked this movie. Go in thinking it is just another gratuitous gore fest, and I think you will be surprised by the story. Yes the commercials gave away too much information. And yes, there is a ton of blood and violence but look at all of the subtext too. That for me is where the real story is. There are so many questions that I left the theatre with.
Like I said with it just being a movie, I wondered were there people that would actually take to something like this. Then, as if on cue, a hulk of a mouth breather began spouting off horrible things like “I wanna purge right now! I wish I didn’t leave my knife in the car!” This, as he is walking between two people that had skin much darker than his own. It’s those people that scare me when it comes to movies like this.