Monday, May 26, 2014
26 May 2014
I downloaded the blogger app for my phone, and attempted to compose a new blog entry. I thought I saved it as a draft, but I can't find it anywhere. However, I found two other drafts.
Monday, January 27, 2014
27 January 2014
It's 5 am and I can't sleep. It's too quiet, the silence is loud, but it's not the right kind of white noise. I can hear a train in the distance, first its plaintive whistle and then a steady noise that seems to indicate a far-off roar of cars on the track, but it seems impossible that I could hear that, even at this low level.
At this time of day, there is nothing awake but me and the giant Remorse monster…and the child who woke me up at 4 am, who will be very sad when she has to get up in 2.5 hours. Now I'm keeping her awake, with my keyboard tapping and requests she find some sort of classical music on her father's iPod. The railcar noise is gone.
I've been able to keep the early morning remorse at bay for awhile now, I thought maybe I was getting over it. But lying alone, in the absolute silence, I could find the creature again. I can't type out what I was thinking, however. Just the process of retrieving the Mac Book Air, having to say words like Mac Book Air, and now the fact that Christmas music is playing lightly in the background, since the Robert Shaw Chorale is the only classical music on this darn iPod, other than Für Elise, which we've already heard, well, it all takes me out.
My thoughts before were running with the idea that came upon me earlier, based on something I heard at church, yesterday it was, about a man talking about how hard it was when his brother died. I would be so sad if my sister died, but more than the sadness of her passing, it would be a mourning for all we had lost. All the things I gave up that I really didn't want to give up. I normally feel that It is what it is, and things are as they are, and who can say what is best. I resolve to stay in regular communication with my family, but even with the ability to video chat, we just don't. We don't talk on the phone, we don't e-mail, we don't have video conferences. The most we have is tenuous Facebook connections, and an occasional phone chat when we realize it's been awhile. On some level, I must not think there is a point in maintaining these long distance relationships. The relationships can't be what I really want, and what I want is to see and talk to people in person. Instead, all the people I have in my life in person are people I barely know. I get their company, and they mine if they choose it, but it feels very much like happenstance.
Für Elise is playing again. I'm angry, because this isn't what I wanted to write, what was in my head was so much more eloquent, but I change my mood just by moving to try and capture my thoughts.
I've spent a lot of time at 4 am in months and years past trying to imagine the other life that I gave up by my choices. I try to imagine the people and life I would have had staying in Virginia. I can feel badly for the people I would never have met here, but then if I had stayed in Virginia or California, I would have had a whole different set of people filling the same niche. Or maybe we would have died in a car accident on the way to the hospital to have our first baby, who knows. One thing that happened right before we left Virginia was that my husband's childhood best friend bought a house near our house. We would have been much closer to them with that geographical proximity. Now our only connection is through the Christmas card they send every year.
I was hurt when my niece said she would never abandon her nieces the way I did. But I did abandon them. That was always my biggest regret, that and losing the closeness to my mother. What if i could have been a stay at home mother in Virginia, that would have been something. I could have spent a lot more time with my mother and my mother-in-law. But it's too late, they are dead or dying. My nieces and nephews are adults now, the influence I had hoped to have in their life is gone. I feel that their life did get harder when I left.
My thought earlier: I was left to make the choice. My husband left the choice to me, and I chose what I know he wanted. But what I really, really wanted was for HIM to make the choice that I wanted. He put the buden on me. I don't like that. Then again, when we moved to Nevada, the burden was on me. I said no. But then he was sad and kept talking up moving, so I said yes on the condition that we would have a second child (that same anxiety-ridden child who woke me from sound sleep at 4 am, thus precipitating all of this). What a way to have a marriage, what a way to have a child.
At this time of day, there is nothing awake but me and the giant Remorse monster…and the child who woke me up at 4 am, who will be very sad when she has to get up in 2.5 hours. Now I'm keeping her awake, with my keyboard tapping and requests she find some sort of classical music on her father's iPod. The railcar noise is gone.
I've been able to keep the early morning remorse at bay for awhile now, I thought maybe I was getting over it. But lying alone, in the absolute silence, I could find the creature again. I can't type out what I was thinking, however. Just the process of retrieving the Mac Book Air, having to say words like Mac Book Air, and now the fact that Christmas music is playing lightly in the background, since the Robert Shaw Chorale is the only classical music on this darn iPod, other than Für Elise, which we've already heard, well, it all takes me out.
My thoughts before were running with the idea that came upon me earlier, based on something I heard at church, yesterday it was, about a man talking about how hard it was when his brother died. I would be so sad if my sister died, but more than the sadness of her passing, it would be a mourning for all we had lost. All the things I gave up that I really didn't want to give up. I normally feel that It is what it is, and things are as they are, and who can say what is best. I resolve to stay in regular communication with my family, but even with the ability to video chat, we just don't. We don't talk on the phone, we don't e-mail, we don't have video conferences. The most we have is tenuous Facebook connections, and an occasional phone chat when we realize it's been awhile. On some level, I must not think there is a point in maintaining these long distance relationships. The relationships can't be what I really want, and what I want is to see and talk to people in person. Instead, all the people I have in my life in person are people I barely know. I get their company, and they mine if they choose it, but it feels very much like happenstance.
Für Elise is playing again. I'm angry, because this isn't what I wanted to write, what was in my head was so much more eloquent, but I change my mood just by moving to try and capture my thoughts.
I've spent a lot of time at 4 am in months and years past trying to imagine the other life that I gave up by my choices. I try to imagine the people and life I would have had staying in Virginia. I can feel badly for the people I would never have met here, but then if I had stayed in Virginia or California, I would have had a whole different set of people filling the same niche. Or maybe we would have died in a car accident on the way to the hospital to have our first baby, who knows. One thing that happened right before we left Virginia was that my husband's childhood best friend bought a house near our house. We would have been much closer to them with that geographical proximity. Now our only connection is through the Christmas card they send every year.
I was hurt when my niece said she would never abandon her nieces the way I did. But I did abandon them. That was always my biggest regret, that and losing the closeness to my mother. What if i could have been a stay at home mother in Virginia, that would have been something. I could have spent a lot more time with my mother and my mother-in-law. But it's too late, they are dead or dying. My nieces and nephews are adults now, the influence I had hoped to have in their life is gone. I feel that their life did get harder when I left.
My thought earlier: I was left to make the choice. My husband left the choice to me, and I chose what I know he wanted. But what I really, really wanted was for HIM to make the choice that I wanted. He put the buden on me. I don't like that. Then again, when we moved to Nevada, the burden was on me. I said no. But then he was sad and kept talking up moving, so I said yes on the condition that we would have a second child (that same anxiety-ridden child who woke me from sound sleep at 4 am, thus precipitating all of this). What a way to have a marriage, what a way to have a child.
Friday, December 6, 2013
7 December 2013
This is the view from my window from November 20th. It looked like the clouds were down around the mountains. There wasn't really fog at street level, but not far above, against the hills, it rolled in like that. I thought it looked pretty interesting, but it cleared out quickly.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
26 October 2013
I spent my afternoon driving around the almost deserted streets of industrial Sparks. It was 74 degrees, calm and sunny, and except for the leaves on the trees, it could have been an August evening with the slanting rays of the late afternoon sun. It's been mid-70's, sunny and nice for so much of this month, cold at night for the color, warm during the day so the tomatoes can bask in the sun. It's been a sad month, though, with the deaths of students. Last Saturday I took my 10 year old to a funeral for a 6 year old where the closing song was Pinkie Pie singing Smile, Smile, Smile. Then we walked to Daughter's Cafe and had cookies and sandwiches on their patio.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
12 October 2013
I'm sitting outside at 5:36 pm PDT as the sun sets. I was lying in the bedroom, missing my tree, but enjoying the sunlight, and I felt like I should be out in it. So I got up and came out, only to realize it's rather chilly. But I'm sitting on the base stump of my tree, next to my tomato plant, soaking up the last rays as best I can.
The leaves of my maple are about 3/4 of the way turned, but this ornamental cherry, or whatever it is, is maybe only a quarter of the way done. Both trees have leaves that turn yellow. It is really windy, part of my tomato plant broke off, but it has a lot of tomatoes on it, so I'm letting it get sun, and bracing it with my knees. It is still trying to flower. I planted it from seeds in the middle of summer, and then transplanted it into this big outdoor pot, and it took well, but it might be getting just a lithe fatigued from the pot, because two of the sproutlings grew up, so there are two separate plants in the one pot. One has two bigger tomatoes, and one has a bigger one and 3 tiny ones.
Today was a nice day in Reno, I was hot walking the dog around an hour ago in my sweatshirt, but now the wind has moved in and the sun is far on the horizon, behind a cloud. The sky is still a nice light blue, but soon we will revert to standard time and it will be dark by this time.
When I think of my time in southern California, I think of the sun coming in the back of my house, which was the west facing side. The sun coming in through the slats of the white plantation shutters, and it was warmer in December, but with enough chill in the air at night to turn the maple leaves red. I don't have that kind of maple, though. The arborist who arranged the removal of my locust tree that shaded and dappled my bedroom window in the afternoon, she said my maple looked good, and she told me the name, but I've already forgotten it.
It was too cold, I had to come in. I dragged my tomato plant into the garage. Today is my husband's birthday, but he isn't here. He flew to Pennsylvania to visit his mother, and he is in Philadelphia right now, waiting to get on a plane to Scranton.
The leaves of my maple are about 3/4 of the way turned, but this ornamental cherry, or whatever it is, is maybe only a quarter of the way done. Both trees have leaves that turn yellow. It is really windy, part of my tomato plant broke off, but it has a lot of tomatoes on it, so I'm letting it get sun, and bracing it with my knees. It is still trying to flower. I planted it from seeds in the middle of summer, and then transplanted it into this big outdoor pot, and it took well, but it might be getting just a lithe fatigued from the pot, because two of the sproutlings grew up, so there are two separate plants in the one pot. One has two bigger tomatoes, and one has a bigger one and 3 tiny ones.
Today was a nice day in Reno, I was hot walking the dog around an hour ago in my sweatshirt, but now the wind has moved in and the sun is far on the horizon, behind a cloud. The sky is still a nice light blue, but soon we will revert to standard time and it will be dark by this time.
When I think of my time in southern California, I think of the sun coming in the back of my house, which was the west facing side. The sun coming in through the slats of the white plantation shutters, and it was warmer in December, but with enough chill in the air at night to turn the maple leaves red. I don't have that kind of maple, though. The arborist who arranged the removal of my locust tree that shaded and dappled my bedroom window in the afternoon, she said my maple looked good, and she told me the name, but I've already forgotten it.
It was too cold, I had to come in. I dragged my tomato plant into the garage. Today is my husband's birthday, but he isn't here. He flew to Pennsylvania to visit his mother, and he is in Philadelphia right now, waiting to get on a plane to Scranton.
Friday, September 13, 2013
13 September 2013
One of my mother's favorite sayings were: "There but for the grace of God go I"
The other was a little chestnut she got from her aunt:
There's so much good in the worst of us
And so much bad in the best of us
that it hardly behooves any of us
to talk about the rest of us.
She actually won some sort of Mother's Day contest with that as advice given to her by a maternal figure. It's common enough, but not quite as widespread as other sayings. I admit that I kind of used to roll my eyes when she'd say it, I think particularly because she was judgmental at times. I enjoyed the first saying, though. As a youngster, it seemed to acknowledge the fact that life is fickle and we are so fortunate to be where we are because life could be so much worse.
As I got older, I started to question it a bit more, because sometimes I heard this saying turned around, being used to justify bad things happening to people, as if God chose not to bestow His grace on some as He might for others. Karma is a bitch and God will judge seem to be two ways of saying the same thing, which is people who do bad things will have to pay in the end, and we really want that to happen, so we say it as if we really mean it and can bring it to bear by the force of our will.
Sin and karma have similar underpinnings, and I often I feel like people aren't looking at it from the more common and much older point of view which is that people suffer in this life as a result of sin or karmic retribution. Who knows what the souls of those children killed in violence were touched by, why they are suffering. Perhaps it is in payment of a debt. Or perhaps it is punishment for lack of faith. If you really believed in God and gave your life to him, He would protect you, or give you a way to help yourself.
I think this is a minority opinion, yet it does seem like when things work out for people, they assume that their own goodness and effort are at least part of the reason why. It's normal, but it can lead to a feeling of self righteousness and callousness. To me there but for the Grace of God go I just stripped that all away. It was probably my Presbyterian upbringing where I always felt that God was some alien creature whose ways were not to be understood. We didn't know why bad things happened to good people, we just felt blessed when they didn't happen to us.
All of this, though, is really beside the point of what I want to talk about, which is how I now understand and embrace my mother's other favorite saying in a way I couldn't when I was younger. It seems trite, it seems obvious. It seems designed to shut down conversation that could root out negativity that should be challenged. My mother probably used it this way at times. And yet, the longer I live, the more I realize people don't believe that there is good and bad in all of us, that we have the capacity, at least at some point in our lives, to do good and to do evil. Yet the very same people who are advocating putting down evil are using evil words: words that advocate torture, acting out in hate and anger to wreak vengeance. And scariest of all, to me, is that they don't see these feelings are the flip side of the coin.
I agree that we can have good intentions when we do bad things, which is different from bad intentions and doing bad things. But I cannot tell you how many times I have been reading some news story with commenters decrying the horrible things that are perpetrated by criminals, and then wanting the same or worse treatment for the criminal. Wanting violence and torture to be done to another person is probably a normal response in some cases, but this is why we continue to have a world full of violence and torture.
We talk about ending bullying, anti-bullying slogans are everywhere. Every time I walked into my daughter's middle school, I saw the results of their anti-bullying campaign with posters designed by the students, talking about how bad it was. They all had a common theme which is bullying is bad, bullies should realize they are hurting people and not do what they do. There was never any ownership of the problem or examination of how we should examine and root out the causes and effects of bullying. There was never any acknowledgement that the sometimes downright disrespectful treatment of the students by the teachers was the very thing they were campaigning against.
The same people who wring their hands and cry about bullying are sometimes the same people who are leading the fight against childhood obesity and feeling that a little shame is a good thing if it's for the greater good of weight loss. They may not even realize they are advocating shame and humiliation as tools, because they don't see themselves as the problem, they see themselves as the good. It doesn't hurt them so how can it possibly hurt a fat child who should know he is fat and want to do something about it.
I can't tell you how many times I've seen these stories where someone does something wrong, and people are advocating for twice the punishment to be visited upon the perpetrator. But then they also scream about how parents don't discipline and if parents just whooped their kids' asses, we wouldn't have these problems, as if discipline didn't come from the words to teach. Yet when there was a story about a woman who was found to be slapping a one year old baby, people thought all sorts of bodily damage and punishment should be visited upon her in addition to her jail sentence. And probably some of those very same people advocating torture think it's OK to slap their children as punishment, even children as young as a year old, if necessary.
If you can wish for torture to be done to others, then you have shown you have the capacity to desire bad for others. If you can humiliate a child with words, and punish with slapping you are a bully. If you desire for other people to be abused the way they abused, you are a a hypocrite. And that isn't wrong, actually, it's part of being human. Because there is so much good in the worst of us and so much bad in the best of us that it really behooves all of us to examine our own contribution to this dynamic.
The other was a little chestnut she got from her aunt:
There's so much good in the worst of us
And so much bad in the best of us
that it hardly behooves any of us
to talk about the rest of us.
She actually won some sort of Mother's Day contest with that as advice given to her by a maternal figure. It's common enough, but not quite as widespread as other sayings. I admit that I kind of used to roll my eyes when she'd say it, I think particularly because she was judgmental at times. I enjoyed the first saying, though. As a youngster, it seemed to acknowledge the fact that life is fickle and we are so fortunate to be where we are because life could be so much worse.
As I got older, I started to question it a bit more, because sometimes I heard this saying turned around, being used to justify bad things happening to people, as if God chose not to bestow His grace on some as He might for others. Karma is a bitch and God will judge seem to be two ways of saying the same thing, which is people who do bad things will have to pay in the end, and we really want that to happen, so we say it as if we really mean it and can bring it to bear by the force of our will.
Sin and karma have similar underpinnings, and I often I feel like people aren't looking at it from the more common and much older point of view which is that people suffer in this life as a result of sin or karmic retribution. Who knows what the souls of those children killed in violence were touched by, why they are suffering. Perhaps it is in payment of a debt. Or perhaps it is punishment for lack of faith. If you really believed in God and gave your life to him, He would protect you, or give you a way to help yourself.
I think this is a minority opinion, yet it does seem like when things work out for people, they assume that their own goodness and effort are at least part of the reason why. It's normal, but it can lead to a feeling of self righteousness and callousness. To me there but for the Grace of God go I just stripped that all away. It was probably my Presbyterian upbringing where I always felt that God was some alien creature whose ways were not to be understood. We didn't know why bad things happened to good people, we just felt blessed when they didn't happen to us.
All of this, though, is really beside the point of what I want to talk about, which is how I now understand and embrace my mother's other favorite saying in a way I couldn't when I was younger. It seems trite, it seems obvious. It seems designed to shut down conversation that could root out negativity that should be challenged. My mother probably used it this way at times. And yet, the longer I live, the more I realize people don't believe that there is good and bad in all of us, that we have the capacity, at least at some point in our lives, to do good and to do evil. Yet the very same people who are advocating putting down evil are using evil words: words that advocate torture, acting out in hate and anger to wreak vengeance. And scariest of all, to me, is that they don't see these feelings are the flip side of the coin.
I agree that we can have good intentions when we do bad things, which is different from bad intentions and doing bad things. But I cannot tell you how many times I have been reading some news story with commenters decrying the horrible things that are perpetrated by criminals, and then wanting the same or worse treatment for the criminal. Wanting violence and torture to be done to another person is probably a normal response in some cases, but this is why we continue to have a world full of violence and torture.
We talk about ending bullying, anti-bullying slogans are everywhere. Every time I walked into my daughter's middle school, I saw the results of their anti-bullying campaign with posters designed by the students, talking about how bad it was. They all had a common theme which is bullying is bad, bullies should realize they are hurting people and not do what they do. There was never any ownership of the problem or examination of how we should examine and root out the causes and effects of bullying. There was never any acknowledgement that the sometimes downright disrespectful treatment of the students by the teachers was the very thing they were campaigning against.
The same people who wring their hands and cry about bullying are sometimes the same people who are leading the fight against childhood obesity and feeling that a little shame is a good thing if it's for the greater good of weight loss. They may not even realize they are advocating shame and humiliation as tools, because they don't see themselves as the problem, they see themselves as the good. It doesn't hurt them so how can it possibly hurt a fat child who should know he is fat and want to do something about it.
I can't tell you how many times I've seen these stories where someone does something wrong, and people are advocating for twice the punishment to be visited upon the perpetrator. But then they also scream about how parents don't discipline and if parents just whooped their kids' asses, we wouldn't have these problems, as if discipline didn't come from the words to teach. Yet when there was a story about a woman who was found to be slapping a one year old baby, people thought all sorts of bodily damage and punishment should be visited upon her in addition to her jail sentence. And probably some of those very same people advocating torture think it's OK to slap their children as punishment, even children as young as a year old, if necessary.
If you can wish for torture to be done to others, then you have shown you have the capacity to desire bad for others. If you can humiliate a child with words, and punish with slapping you are a bully. If you desire for other people to be abused the way they abused, you are a a hypocrite. And that isn't wrong, actually, it's part of being human. Because there is so much good in the worst of us and so much bad in the best of us that it really behooves all of us to examine our own contribution to this dynamic.
Monday, July 29, 2013
28 July 2013
Last night I went to see the Tahoe Players production of Les Miserables at the JA Nugget. I've loved the story of Les Miserables since I happily discovered it at the age of 12, and I always thought it would be fantastic fun to be in the chorus of that show. When they held auditions last February, I had to go, but ultimately I had to decide not to do it. I was a little worried I'd feel remorse that I wasn't in the show, but I didn't. I knew the rehearsals were going to be grueling, and they were. I got to hear a lot of gossip about what was going on, and it sounded like pretty much a worse case scenario in terms of time management and the like.
The show was done with a modern interpretation and a minimalist approach in terms of set and scenery. They had two construction scaffolds on the stage that served as the prison and various homes or businesses that were needed at times. The factory looked to be a pharmaceutical one, with workers in white biohazard suits putting pills in bottles. When Javert came out to release Valjean on parole, he was dressed in police blues, with a modern flat-topped police cap, and a billy club and side arm. Later on, when Valjean had to escape to rescue Cosette, he pulled Javert's gun and held him at gunpoint, but then was disarmed and ran off without getting shot.
The backdrop was a set of photos that reflected various scenes, many which were rundown or barren American places, like in Nevada, some just city street scenes. There were scenes of prostitutes at night, or women who looked like prostitutes, and at one point, during the scene that precedes Black & Red, they did a Twitter type tableau announcing the death of LaMarque. It actually caused some laughter in an otherwise serious scene. The most controversial part, however, was when they showed a photo of Trayvon Martin in a hoodie. Apparently there were some people put off by that and wanted to walk out. For modern American singers, though, there was too much fake Cockney accent going on. I feel like a working class crew should reflect the accent of the country where it is taking place, so why not sing like you're from Texas or Brooklyn?
The pacing of the music was extremely fast. Since Toccata backed out of doing the show, the orchestra was kind of cobbled together from various musicians in the community. It was a good orchestra, though, conducted by Jane Brown from the Reno Pops with professional players. I felt like it was a bit loud at times, mostly because not all the singers were mic'ed, or the mics went out. The horns had a few wonky chords, but the string players were talented and worked up a sweat. The pacing was just too fast for me, but I tried to keep an open mind. I like more phrasing, but maybe phrasing is a stylistic choice. However, even with the words getting spit out at auctioneer speed, there were people who rushed. At one point Jane was beating the hell out of her baton to bring the orchestra up to the speed of one of the singers, and she had to mouth the words during one of Marius' pieces. It was possible that the actors just couldn't hear the orchestra well, which would honestly shock me.
Michael Jackson as Jean Valjean was fantastic. He had a beautiful voice and seemed to get stronger as the show went on. The cheers for his Bring Him Home were deafening, and unfortunately started while he was holding out his final note. Audience members annoyed me a few times. They clapped in the middle of pieces where different characters were passing the solos back and forth, instead of waiting for the entire number to be finished. Some people walked in during the middle of the first half to sit at a booth right behind the conductor, almost to the point of bumping her. Why that seat wasn't blocked off, I have no idea.
I felt like Fantine, Valjean, Cosette and Eponine had strong voices. Javert was brilliant at times, lackluster at others. One of the members of the student uprising group was pretty good, but Enjolras wasn't that exciting, and Marius almost ruined it for me. He was out of tune in some parts, notably during a duet with Cosette, and he was the biggest offender of rushing the entrances. The other thing I had a little problem with was the minimalist staging. They had a barricade with modern slogans, reminiscent of a Occupy Wall Street kind of protest. But they all had guns, and the they fought on the barricade pointing the guns towards the audience. So some of the action with Valjean and Javert happened upstage rather than down, like I saw in the San Francisco production. There were times when I felt like if I wasn't already familiar with the story, I'd have no idea what was happening from where they were going onstage. The whole sewer scene had no scenery change, the dead on the barricade were still there. Then Javert and Valjean's final confrontation took place with Javert on the scaffold above Valjean on the floor behind the barricade. Since they were both standing and facing the audience directly, the impact was really lost, I felt. Javert killed himself on the scaffold with a gun to the head, and the actor fell realistically behind a piece of plywood that was on the front of the scaffold, so that was pretty interesting.
So I'm glad I saw it and I liked the modern interpretation even though it didn't always work with the text. I'll save the gossip for another post.
The show was done with a modern interpretation and a minimalist approach in terms of set and scenery. They had two construction scaffolds on the stage that served as the prison and various homes or businesses that were needed at times. The factory looked to be a pharmaceutical one, with workers in white biohazard suits putting pills in bottles. When Javert came out to release Valjean on parole, he was dressed in police blues, with a modern flat-topped police cap, and a billy club and side arm. Later on, when Valjean had to escape to rescue Cosette, he pulled Javert's gun and held him at gunpoint, but then was disarmed and ran off without getting shot.
The backdrop was a set of photos that reflected various scenes, many which were rundown or barren American places, like in Nevada, some just city street scenes. There were scenes of prostitutes at night, or women who looked like prostitutes, and at one point, during the scene that precedes Black & Red, they did a Twitter type tableau announcing the death of LaMarque. It actually caused some laughter in an otherwise serious scene. The most controversial part, however, was when they showed a photo of Trayvon Martin in a hoodie. Apparently there were some people put off by that and wanted to walk out. For modern American singers, though, there was too much fake Cockney accent going on. I feel like a working class crew should reflect the accent of the country where it is taking place, so why not sing like you're from Texas or Brooklyn?
The pacing of the music was extremely fast. Since Toccata backed out of doing the show, the orchestra was kind of cobbled together from various musicians in the community. It was a good orchestra, though, conducted by Jane Brown from the Reno Pops with professional players. I felt like it was a bit loud at times, mostly because not all the singers were mic'ed, or the mics went out. The horns had a few wonky chords, but the string players were talented and worked up a sweat. The pacing was just too fast for me, but I tried to keep an open mind. I like more phrasing, but maybe phrasing is a stylistic choice. However, even with the words getting spit out at auctioneer speed, there were people who rushed. At one point Jane was beating the hell out of her baton to bring the orchestra up to the speed of one of the singers, and she had to mouth the words during one of Marius' pieces. It was possible that the actors just couldn't hear the orchestra well, which would honestly shock me.
Michael Jackson as Jean Valjean was fantastic. He had a beautiful voice and seemed to get stronger as the show went on. The cheers for his Bring Him Home were deafening, and unfortunately started while he was holding out his final note. Audience members annoyed me a few times. They clapped in the middle of pieces where different characters were passing the solos back and forth, instead of waiting for the entire number to be finished. Some people walked in during the middle of the first half to sit at a booth right behind the conductor, almost to the point of bumping her. Why that seat wasn't blocked off, I have no idea.
I felt like Fantine, Valjean, Cosette and Eponine had strong voices. Javert was brilliant at times, lackluster at others. One of the members of the student uprising group was pretty good, but Enjolras wasn't that exciting, and Marius almost ruined it for me. He was out of tune in some parts, notably during a duet with Cosette, and he was the biggest offender of rushing the entrances. The other thing I had a little problem with was the minimalist staging. They had a barricade with modern slogans, reminiscent of a Occupy Wall Street kind of protest. But they all had guns, and the they fought on the barricade pointing the guns towards the audience. So some of the action with Valjean and Javert happened upstage rather than down, like I saw in the San Francisco production. There were times when I felt like if I wasn't already familiar with the story, I'd have no idea what was happening from where they were going onstage. The whole sewer scene had no scenery change, the dead on the barricade were still there. Then Javert and Valjean's final confrontation took place with Javert on the scaffold above Valjean on the floor behind the barricade. Since they were both standing and facing the audience directly, the impact was really lost, I felt. Javert killed himself on the scaffold with a gun to the head, and the actor fell realistically behind a piece of plywood that was on the front of the scaffold, so that was pretty interesting.
So I'm glad I saw it and I liked the modern interpretation even though it didn't always work with the text. I'll save the gossip for another post.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
