how to start a saturday

Saturday morning I was up up up, despite all that traveling the day before. It was London. There were things to see and places to go and so on. I had my tea, got myself dressed, and K. was keen to go. Everyone had assorted plans and some wanted to have a lie in, so there people everywhere. We took the tube up to Regent's Park. I had realized I had never been there and it is one of those places with a strong reference within literature. (K. pointed to one place and said, "Mrs. Dalloway should live there.") I am always a fan of the "you are here" experience when you spot things that were in books and you can say, "ah ha!" and the line between fiction and reality becomes a little more muddled, which makes a book more dear. If only I could find some kind of mound with a Norman tower near it where one might have mid-summer rites. Though none of the roses were in bloom there were plenty of other things to see and there were the early flowers of Spring making it mighty clear that winter could fuck off. (thank you crocuses) It is also worth going to this park just to see a sign that says, "Golden Showers". (type of rose) If you need directions to this sign, email me.
We looked at fountains, observed the confident nature of squirrels, amused ourselves over the names of different kinds of roses and took in a early morning foggy walk. Families were heading toward the zoo (so many prams) and others were taking their dogs for the first or second walk of the day. We slowly made our way down Great Portland Street which eventually turns into Regent and so on. Le Flaneur! That was our existence. We ambled, and took in details of life and architecture. A fantastic doorknob, a bit of bas-relief, brightly colored shoes, looking down upon what is obviously a basement flat that has an Aga, taking in the history.
We passed Broadcasting house, where I noticed a sculpture and I said out loud, "Oh look, That's Eric Gill's work." I always feel unsettled about his stuff. There were some things he did that were truly beautiful but the awfulness of his personal life sort of leaves this shadow. I try my best to keep an artist's personal life apart from his professional but this one is a bit difficult. But even the most awful of people are still human and can create amazing things. I think we wish that it wasn't the case. It would make it easier to put them in that box of being a monster.
We walked and walked and ended up at Liberty. A very pretty department store where every detail will draw the eye. You spend much of the time saying, "oh look at that!" and it could be anything from a bit of stationery to the use of lampshades for a bit of decor in a rafter, to the creak of the stairs. We ended up in the perfume room for a bit where I fell in love with "Fiori di Capri" by Carthusia. Stunning and expensive. It smelled fantastic on me and the little spritz I applied lasted all day, and disappeared sometime after dinner. I kept smelling my wrist through-out the day and thinking, "My God, where has this been all my life?" and I had other people smell it. They approved. Apparently I had to be born, grow up, live a little, experience some life before I was ready for this scent. Because this is not a scent for children. It seems that Jackie Kennedy was among many who wore this. I don't immediately think, "yeah carnation, that is a scent for me." But apparently it is. (among others.) It changed through-out the day and became more layered. K. found a perfume she had read about and isn't available in the states yet. It was equally appealing. We held off and looked around at trims and fabrics and tea towels and egg cups with guinea pigs and all kinds of objects you didn't realize you desired. We hadn't reached "hangry" but we definitely needed food so we went to their cafe, where the walls make you wish you had some markers so you could color everything in. We had ham & cheese croissants, cocoa, coffee, and cakes. I suggest everyone do the same. We walked some more and then took the tube back to the flat because our tootsies were tired and we had to dress up like more civilized folk for we were going to the theatre! We had a brief chat with one friend who was about to meet her husband. She told us all about the most amazing doughnuts she had at St. John's. She isn't a doughnut person but these were so amazing that she wanted them every damn day of her life. Imagine the best doughnut in the world? Now make it ten times better. It was that doughnut.
We realized the time was moving fast and we raced like bunnies on the tube. (having to make a change, running up/down stairs and so on) We made it to Charing Cross and the theater just in time. We were going to see James McAvoy in MacBeth. I KNOW! OMG! Mr. Tumnus with a worked up wife! Second row, dead center, and if we were any closer, someone might have gotten pregnant.

Next post:OMG, THE-AY-TURE! And Italian food. And so on.

throughly discussed

One goes into MacBeth knowing that it is a pretty violent/bloody tragedy. Which is fine. Shakespeare knew his audience and had a knack for this business. I will point anyone toward Titus Andronicus (which is supposed to be his earliest tragedy) and say, "all modern super violent/kinda snuff-ish horror stuff can thank this mofo for that business." Because holy hell have you ever seen that one? It can/will make you throw up if you aren't prepared. (I know I know... makes you want to rush out and see it.) Timeless in a way.
But back to MacBeth, the director was certainly aiming for that territory with this production. Visceral is one word that comes to mind. I sort of felt like there was some kind of contest for the amount of fluids we the audience had to experience. The setting in this case was a sort of industrial post-apocalyptic scene. Lots of rusted exposed girders, broken glass, camo, moth-worn jumpers, boots, and duct-tape. And apparently the understudy toilet from Trainspotting. Plus blood. Plenty of blood. As an accessory. The witches were rather androgynous. Camo/military gear and 1940s misshapen gas masks and at other times animal masks and they popped out trap-doors all covered in blood and carrying what appeared to be garden tools covered in blood. A theme has been created. It was a fantastic opening in that there wasn't any gentle leading into the theme. It was, "HEYMOTHERFUCKERSSHITISSERIOUSYOUBETTERRUN". This did much for making the audience gasp.
Eventually we meet our main character, hello James McAvoy with your hot Scottish accent and manly beard. As my friend K. said he had a bit of the Gerard Butler circa 300 about him. So if you like that kind of, "MANLY MAN YELLING THINGS ALL MANLY LIKE AND DRAGGING AROUND A SWORD" well then, this is the show for you. I want to answer a vaguely important question for the fan girls out there, His eyes are indeed that flipping blue and beautiful. I was like less than 5 feet away from him and I can verify this as fact and science and any other weighty proof you desire. Plus he was fucking fantastic and held the stage well. Obviously film/stage are different mediums and stage always gives you a lot more intimacy and power than film but when you consider the Shakespeare retold version of MacBeth he did in his twenties, you can see how he has grown as an actor and he is really the right age to play the role. (early/mid thirties) Blah blah blah Shakespeare talk. He gave all the range you could possibly want. From bravado, to anxiety, to so fucking sexy that people (you know... namely me) might leap over someone to get some of that. I may have said, "unf" at one point. But don't quote me.

Anyhow, as for the rest of the show, it had such terrifying frantic energy, though there is a part of me that felt that Claire Foy who played Lady MacBeth, just didn't quite sell her calculating side so hard. She was convincing when her doubt/fear came to the surface. (and I don't want to say she wasn't good because she was good and it could have been a directorial thing, who knows. And I could be way wrong. Because I am just someone who likes to watch shows.) Anyhow, the show. It was fun to watch, it isn't everyday that you get to see it rain blood on a stage. (it also rained other things. Rain, blood, lots of fog, strobe lights, it was kind of like a very scary rave at points. A rave in Scotland!) It was very much a show of the physical. Blood, saliva, vomit, and all that makes a person human and messy. (though if you were in the first row, it seems like you should have been handed rain coats to shield you against all of that humanity. For the spittle, vomit, and spray were present and flying.)

Another wonderful/entertaining moment had to do with how the room worked. One side had most of the audience, then there was the stage and then a smaller audience on the other side. Not quiet theatre in the round but definitely a slight challenge to the actors in that there was more walls to play to. At the back of the other side of the audience (which was split in half with an aisle running down the middle and used for exits/entrances at times (with plenty of fog and such) I noticed a garage door and I thought, "ha ha wouldn't that be amusing if that was used." THEN all of a sudden the garage door went up and there were random people standing on a street (and there was that nervous giggle of the audience, "hey this isn't what it seems.. okay maybe it is.") and they looked a little confused and curious as they saw a bunch of guys with machetes and swords covered with bits of branches and trees (a moving grove!) come screaming through in the midst of a battle. The stage is everywhere!
Jamie Ballard who played Macduff was especially moving when he dealt with his grief at what MacBeth had done to his family. In a short period of time he went through a bunch of stages of grief JUST with his face and the part that was most exquisite was how he displayed that primal sense of vengeance when all that you held dear is taken from you. He totally nailed that. Your life may end as you attempt this but there is nothing to lose and the pain is too great. When he does succeed at what he aims to do (have it out with MacBeth) it is in a style that certainly left an impression. (I figure since the play has been around a few hundred years I don't have to go, "spoiler alert") The decapitation of Macbeth takes place off stage, and in this case the nearly dead Macbeth is shoved down one trap-door with Macduff following him and shutting said door. THEN? THEN? OMG another trap door pops open and this MOTHERFUCKING HEAD springs out and the audience nearly loses its shit. There were shrieks and gasps and maybe a few strokes. The women sitting next to my friend kept going, "OMGOMGOMG" and rocking back and forth and making these squeaking noises. With this unattached head comes Macduff who is not exactly tidy after that business. It was quite the way to traumatize the audience so they could join the characters in their trauma. In the end everyone (audience/characters) had that long-hard stare of, "WTF just happened, and where shall we go now?"

So if you are in London at the moment and can get tickets and like to experience some trauma -hit this one up.

As for the rest of my Saturday, I said goodbye to my friend as she had a show to hit up at the Royal Court (she likes theatre. A lot.) and I went back to the flat to meet up with people so that we might go to dinner. We had Italian food at Gastronomica where we met up with a few more people who had come into town. The food was nice but nothing unusual. I had no complaints as I was hungry, it tasted good, and the company was lovely. Somehow after dinner we ended up at Sainsbury and I bought a bottle of Southern Comfort because I am trashy at times, and I drank some of that and ate ice cream, and all things considered didn't act terribly silly. Others had gin & tonics because they like that sort of thing. Then there was sleep. A good hard sleep.