Saturday, October 30, 2004

Plays are Weird As a writer, that may seem like a strange thing to say, but last night, when the lights came up on the Seattle Public Theatre's production of David Auburn's Pulitzer Prize winning Proof, that was my first thought. "Weird." Not this production, nor this play, but the fact that we gather in dark rooms to watch people talk to each other, spinning out stories inspired and insipid by turns. A character begins to speak, then another, and we're off and running. Proof didn't move me like I'd hoped. Maybe it's just the mood I'm in, but somehow, Catherine's plight (she's lost her father, a world-renowned mathematician, and she may be losing her mind as well--like he did) didn't get under my emotional skin. This production was technically precise, the cadences of the quick exchanges revealing the frayed relationships with great skill. I suppose it must be hard to play the volcanic Catherine, the mixed rumblings of genius and sacrifice demanding an explosiveness the actress in the role on this particular evening didn't deliver. Most troublesome was the fact that at the end of the play, Catherine undergoes a pretty dramatic transformation, which for me is the central issue not only of the play, but of life. How do we transform? How are people changed? How is madness fought off, hope reborn? It happened in Proof, as Catherine stood with her suitcase, her new beau blocking the door. One minute, Catherine was heading to New York, to just let her sister take care of her, sending her to shrinks, keeping watch over her, this crank sister oblivious to Catherine's reality, her genius, her need. But then, no, Catherine's turning, her face has changed, and next thing I know, Catherine and beau are sitting on the swing, going over the next great discovery in Mathematics, now headed off toward a new and hopeful life. What happened? Where did the change come? How did it happen? I know it had to do with the fact that the beau now trusted her, now believed the great discovery was her own after all, somehow affirming her, but for me, it just didn't quite fly. That's the question: ....how do we transform? 4:37:13 PM    comment []

In America Finally saw this Jim Sheridan (My Left Foot, In the Name of the Father) film. In America is the story of an Irish immigrant family struggling to come to terms with the death of a young son, hoping to find a new life in New York City's Hell's Kitchen. Riveting performances by Paddy Considine as Johnny (the father) and Samantha Morton as Sarah (the mother) make this a film that haunts as well as inspires. I've been thinking about why I like this film so much. Could be because of the superb acting of the two of the cutest kids you'll ever seen on screen. Sisters Sarah and Emma Bolger play Christy and Ariel, both characters seamlessly real. Ariel's wide-eyed exuberance was especially charming, and the courage these girls displayed was simply shocking, both of them banging away at the door of a dying artist known simply as "the screaming man." That artist could be another reason I like this film so much. Djimon Hounsou plays Mateo, functioning as a savior in this tale, bringing a kind of magic that borders on miraculous as he seems to lend his spirit to Sarah and Johnny's life, enlivening them even as his own life slips away. A quiet, surprising film, full of fresh faces and new ways of saying there's hope of love and community--and redemption--in this crazy world. 4:12:46 PM    comment []

© Copyright 2004 Jeff Berryman .