Tal and I went to see Spirit of the Dance last night. I've always wanted to see Riverdance or Lord of the Dance, but when Lord of the Dance had come to Israel previously, tickets were too expensive. Usually tickets for SotD are too expensive as well, but I snagged us two tickets on Groupon, a site I've now used many times.
I was expecting SotD to be much like RD or LotD, and it was mostly. But SotD also adds Flamenco and some American street dancing, as well as dance tunes stolen from classic musicals, like "I've Got Rhythm" and "Can Can". It was highly inspiring - not in the sense that I now want to devote my life to dancing, but in the sense that it's great to see professional performers in their art at the top of their game. They danced beautifully, and the sets and lighting were also nice. I was carried away for two hours. The hand dancing at the end was particularly entertaining.
There were some oddities with the performance, however.
Regarding the costuming, on two occasions the women were wearing a lot less then the men for no apparent reason (it didn't fit the scene). At one point they borrowed costumes from what looked like 1920s MGM musicals, with the big fat white feather fans and everything. Weird. I was expecting something more modern and more Irish the whole way through.
The location and organization of the event, Hangar 11 in Port Tel Aviv, was somewhat a balagan (big mess). The lines to pick up your tickets were amorphous at best, and they rummaged through piles of pre-written envelopes for your tickets. The envelopes started alphabetically sorted, but that didn't last long. Seats were pre-assigned. They could have simply handed out tickets as they went to people in exchange for proof of purchase, without the alphabetizing and without the pre-assignment.
There was a series of waiting rooms to get into the place: first at the gate, then at the entrance to a tent like structure, then to the building, and then to walk around the stadium-like stands (you entered from the back of the stands and then turned around to climb up to your seats if you were seated in the stands). There were also many rows of seats in front of the stands, stretching out to the stage. The seats between the stands and the stage had no numbers or row numbers. The seats in the stands had seat numbers but the row numbers were printed on the stairs between two rows, so no one knew whether the "32" written on the stairs referred to the row of seats in front of it or just past it. Everyone muddled with their seats, right up until the lights went down.
I thought Stomp was better, but this was still a lovely event, one I wish I could repeat more often.
Showing posts with label theater. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theater. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Jerusalem and Raanana Session Reports; Hypnotism
Raanana games played: Power Grid.
Jerusalem games played: Jungle Speed, London.
Hypnotism
I was in an audience with a practicing stage hypnotist. I don't know what I was expecting, but I was not expecting my reaction: I was disgusted. I walked out.
The subjects were made to forget their names, the number three, etc. When they could not (or would not) count, the audience laughed. The subjects smiled sheepishly. The hypnotist did not use any hypnotic induction; he just passed his hand over their heads and held it in front of their eyes for a moment, and then announced, out loud, what the subjects were going to do incorrectly.
My first thoughts were that, of course, this was bunk. But, then again, not necessarily. Although magic is bunk, some odd things about the human mind and body have some truth to them, even if the stories that surround them are nonsense. E.g. acupuncture apparently does have some real effect on reducing pain.
My second thought was that the performance, whether real or fake, was obscene. It's one thing to laugh at TV people being idiots for fun in a sitcom, or people in power (like politicians) being idiots. It's another thing to laugh at friends who are under the influence of suggestion. Even if they agreed to be hypnotized, they are being made to look like fools while helpless. It's embarrassing, like laughing at the handicapped. If it was a serious demonstration, I would have found it interesting ... scary and creepy, but interesting. But not for entertainment. So I walked out.
I asked the subjects after the fact, and they both denied any sort of collusion or trickery on their part. Neither was embarrassed at what had happened.
The odd part is that Israel is one of the few countries where stage hypnosis is absolutely illegal. I don't know how this guy gets away with doing it in public. He was a good stage magician, so the hypnosis wasn't necessary for his act. I have no problems with magic acts.
Jerusalem games played: Jungle Speed, London.
Hypnotism
I was in an audience with a practicing stage hypnotist. I don't know what I was expecting, but I was not expecting my reaction: I was disgusted. I walked out.
The subjects were made to forget their names, the number three, etc. When they could not (or would not) count, the audience laughed. The subjects smiled sheepishly. The hypnotist did not use any hypnotic induction; he just passed his hand over their heads and held it in front of their eyes for a moment, and then announced, out loud, what the subjects were going to do incorrectly.
My first thoughts were that, of course, this was bunk. But, then again, not necessarily. Although magic is bunk, some odd things about the human mind and body have some truth to them, even if the stories that surround them are nonsense. E.g. acupuncture apparently does have some real effect on reducing pain.
My second thought was that the performance, whether real or fake, was obscene. It's one thing to laugh at TV people being idiots for fun in a sitcom, or people in power (like politicians) being idiots. It's another thing to laugh at friends who are under the influence of suggestion. Even if they agreed to be hypnotized, they are being made to look like fools while helpless. It's embarrassing, like laughing at the handicapped. If it was a serious demonstration, I would have found it interesting ... scary and creepy, but interesting. But not for entertainment. So I walked out.
I asked the subjects after the fact, and they both denied any sort of collusion or trickery on their part. Neither was embarrassed at what had happened.
The odd part is that Israel is one of the few countries where stage hypnosis is absolutely illegal. I don't know how this guy gets away with doing it in public. He was a good stage magician, so the hypnosis wasn't necessary for his act. I have no problems with magic acts.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Day 9: The Beauty that is Culture
Absent Moonlight
Yesterday evening I was too tired to go out or even take a picture of the town of Castleconnell. Here are some snaps from outside the B&B this morning.
Now imagine that with a full moon over it.
Everything takes twice as long to get to/drive to as I originally planned. Therefore, I have ended up driving hours more than I had hoped to. Still, I can't say that I didn't love what I saw.
Doctor
My only plans today were to drive back to Dublin, rest, return the car, and see a play to which I had already bought the ticket.
However, I was feeling worse than I had yesterday; this is not unexpected for a week-long cold. The throat issues generally kick in after three days, so that was right on schedule. Then I begin to get better after a few more days. I didn't want to suffer my entire trip (nor cough during the play), and just to be sure that nothing more nefarious was happening to me, I decided to get a check up at a doctor. Hopefully my travel insurance will cover this when I return to Israel.
The first two doctor offices I visited at random were bust; the doctors weren't in. Finally I found one available about midway between Limerick and Dublin. She said that nothing nefarious was happening, but she gave me a prescription for paracetamol and an anti-biotic. The former to control the hot and cold flashes that were leaving me drenched, and the latter to take only if I got worse.
Later in the evening I acquired the paracetamol and some cough syrup, and twenty minutes later I felt much better.
A Play and a Book: A Perfect Evening
All that driving around, only to discover that a perfect evening can be had reading a good book in a pub followed by a great theater experience.
After resting and returning the car, I hung out at a pub reading Dubliners and drinking a pot of tea.
Most of Dubliners is lovely - some of it is a bit weaker - but I have promised myself to read all of it in order to reward myself with the final story: The Dead.
At 7:30 (or as they say in Ireland, "half seven") I saw the production of Little Women at The Gate Theater. What a fantastic job. The sets, lights, and sound were very clever. The acting was phenomenal. Jo (Lorna Quinn) in particular had such a range of facial expressions, from a scowled, scrunched up face of disgust to happy bliss to pitiful tears. I'm a sentimental old fool, so I cried.
The screenwriting and directing was also quite good. The use of the scenery and some split stage work were quite inventive. My only complaint, perhaps, is that many of the scenes felt rushed or cut; too much emotional change occurred too quickly. But that's what you get for taking a very long book (I actually remembered it as too separate books, not one) and squishing it down to 2.5 hours.
The price was pretty good, too (20 EUR), though I paid the "preview" price; the official run prices are slightly higher.
Yesterday evening I was too tired to go out or even take a picture of the town of Castleconnell. Here are some snaps from outside the B&B this morning.
 |
| The B&B |
Now imagine that with a full moon over it.
Everything takes twice as long to get to/drive to as I originally planned. Therefore, I have ended up driving hours more than I had hoped to. Still, I can't say that I didn't love what I saw.
Doctor
My only plans today were to drive back to Dublin, rest, return the car, and see a play to which I had already bought the ticket.
However, I was feeling worse than I had yesterday; this is not unexpected for a week-long cold. The throat issues generally kick in after three days, so that was right on schedule. Then I begin to get better after a few more days. I didn't want to suffer my entire trip (nor cough during the play), and just to be sure that nothing more nefarious was happening to me, I decided to get a check up at a doctor. Hopefully my travel insurance will cover this when I return to Israel.
The first two doctor offices I visited at random were bust; the doctors weren't in. Finally I found one available about midway between Limerick and Dublin. She said that nothing nefarious was happening, but she gave me a prescription for paracetamol and an anti-biotic. The former to control the hot and cold flashes that were leaving me drenched, and the latter to take only if I got worse.
Later in the evening I acquired the paracetamol and some cough syrup, and twenty minutes later I felt much better.
A Play and a Book: A Perfect Evening
All that driving around, only to discover that a perfect evening can be had reading a good book in a pub followed by a great theater experience.
After resting and returning the car, I hung out at a pub reading Dubliners and drinking a pot of tea.
Most of Dubliners is lovely - some of it is a bit weaker - but I have promised myself to read all of it in order to reward myself with the final story: The Dead.
At 7:30 (or as they say in Ireland, "half seven") I saw the production of Little Women at The Gate Theater. What a fantastic job. The sets, lights, and sound were very clever. The acting was phenomenal. Jo (Lorna Quinn) in particular had such a range of facial expressions, from a scowled, scrunched up face of disgust to happy bliss to pitiful tears. I'm a sentimental old fool, so I cried.
The screenwriting and directing was also quite good. The use of the scenery and some split stage work were quite inventive. My only complaint, perhaps, is that many of the scenes felt rushed or cut; too much emotional change occurred too quickly. But that's what you get for taking a very long book (I actually remembered it as too separate books, not one) and squishing it down to 2.5 hours.
The price was pretty good, too (20 EUR), though I paid the "preview" price; the official run prices are slightly higher.
Friday, December 25, 2009
From (One Person's) Bris to (Another Person's) Funeral. And a Play.
On Rachel's first full day back, we went to a bris, a funeral, and a play. I reminded her that Jerusalem isn't like this all the time. But considering all of the other events that will occur in the next two weeks: two weddings, a bar mitzvah, New Year's, ... I'm not sure I convinced her.
A day on which you go to a bris, a funeral, and a play, is not a day in which you can get much else done. From birth to death to performance.
If it's 8:00 am, it must be a bris
Rachel hugging the sister of the imminent amputee.
Wednesday night we went to a birthday party for a Norwegian friend; most of the other attendees were Norwegian. Thursday morning's bris was for a Swedish couple, held at the Swedish something-or-other on HaNeviim street, and most of the other attendees were Swedish. Though each of these friends are dear to us and part of our usual social circle, neither of the circles at the events contained many people from the usual social circle; in other words, it wasn't a "shul" or "neighborhood" event.
The baby's three young, beautiful children all love Rachel, and had missed her while she was away. They always congregate on her lap in shul.
If it's 1:00 pm, it must be a funeral
A Mount of Olives burial, men at the graveyard, women (and many men) looking over the railing
The funeral was for the father of another dear friend of ours, who was supposed to be the next Rebbe of a certain Hassidic sect, but declined the mantle because he considered himself too involved in the secular world (he had an influence on Herschel, for instance).
Our friends are not Hassidic. It was hard to get close to the graveyard to shovel dirt on one's own, but anyone who wasn't wearing Hassidic garb was assumed to be a family member, and so I (and the gray-haired husband of the one who lost her father, see below) were specifically ushered to the grave for this purpose.
After the actual burial was completed, the women came down. The separation of the sexes at a Jerusalem burial (even the daughter, wife, or mother must remain behind the railing) is not one of my favorite customs (nor is it required in Judaism, I believe, but Haredim control such things in Israel, and their customs tend to prevail).
If it's 8:00 pm, it must be a play
Tal as a maid in The Pirates of Penzance
Tal is my youngest, 16 years old, who is somehow managing to perform in two plays (Pirates of Penzance, Another Antigone) and still keep up her schoolwork. I'm both stunned and proud.
PoP runs again next week on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and is well worth the exorbitant ticket price for an amateur production; it's the best show I've seen in Jerusalem, excepting an amazing Shakespeare productions that I saw last summer in Jerusalem's botanical gardens. It has a lovely live orchestra and excellent singing. And it's Gilbert and Sullivan, of course.
A day on which you go to a bris, a funeral, and a play, is not a day in which you can get much else done. From birth to death to performance.
If it's 8:00 am, it must be a bris
Rachel hugging the sister of the imminent amputee.
Wednesday night we went to a birthday party for a Norwegian friend; most of the other attendees were Norwegian. Thursday morning's bris was for a Swedish couple, held at the Swedish something-or-other on HaNeviim street, and most of the other attendees were Swedish. Though each of these friends are dear to us and part of our usual social circle, neither of the circles at the events contained many people from the usual social circle; in other words, it wasn't a "shul" or "neighborhood" event.
The baby's three young, beautiful children all love Rachel, and had missed her while she was away. They always congregate on her lap in shul.
If it's 1:00 pm, it must be a funeral
A Mount of Olives burial, men at the graveyard, women (and many men) looking over the railing
The funeral was for the father of another dear friend of ours, who was supposed to be the next Rebbe of a certain Hassidic sect, but declined the mantle because he considered himself too involved in the secular world (he had an influence on Herschel, for instance).
Our friends are not Hassidic. It was hard to get close to the graveyard to shovel dirt on one's own, but anyone who wasn't wearing Hassidic garb was assumed to be a family member, and so I (and the gray-haired husband of the one who lost her father, see below) were specifically ushered to the grave for this purpose.
After the actual burial was completed, the women came down. The separation of the sexes at a Jerusalem burial (even the daughter, wife, or mother must remain behind the railing) is not one of my favorite customs (nor is it required in Judaism, I believe, but Haredim control such things in Israel, and their customs tend to prevail).
If it's 8:00 pm, it must be a play
Tal as a maid in The Pirates of Penzance
Tal is my youngest, 16 years old, who is somehow managing to perform in two plays (Pirates of Penzance, Another Antigone) and still keep up her schoolwork. I'm both stunned and proud.
PoP runs again next week on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and is well worth the exorbitant ticket price for an amateur production; it's the best show I've seen in Jerusalem, excepting an amazing Shakespeare productions that I saw last summer in Jerusalem's botanical gardens. It has a lovely live orchestra and excellent singing. And it's Gilbert and Sullivan, of course.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
When Did Lectures Become Entertainment?
I guess I always saw "lectures" listed next to movies, dance, theater, and so on, but somehow I never connected them to entertainment.
I must be an adult.
Seeing how Rachel prepares for her "performances", having prepared my own, having gone to a lecture about Darwin's influence on American culture last night, and recalling all the TED presentations I've now seen, I am now connected to the fact that lectures are entertainment. One man/woman plays.
Even more: lectures are verbal blogging. A post in a series of posts and responses in the continuous global forum.
I must be an adult.
Seeing how Rachel prepares for her "performances", having prepared my own, having gone to a lecture about Darwin's influence on American culture last night, and recalling all the TED presentations I've now seen, I am now connected to the fact that lectures are entertainment. One man/woman plays.
Even more: lectures are verbal blogging. A post in a series of posts and responses in the continuous global forum.
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