I'm not sure I'm ready to go out there alone, but for those of you who are or who have queer friends to accompany you, there are two great events tonight you should check out. Both are in the same area, so technically you could even go to both tonight.
unholy trinity :: the event
FELICIA LUNA LEMUS
reads from her new novel
<i>Like Son</i>
with
raquel gutierrez + claudia rodriguez
reading new + solo work off the page
Thursday, April 26, 2007
7pm @ IMIX Bookstore
5052 Eagle Rock Blvd. L.A. 90041
FREE
Afterwards, head on over to Butchin'LA at Mr. T's Bowl. I don't know anything about this month's performers, but the crowd alone makes the evening worth it.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Events tonight
Posted by Violet Vixen at 9:34 AM 0 comments
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Absenteeism
Hey all. I try not to talk to much about my personal life here, but I thought I should explain my long neglect of any loyal blog readers I may have out there. Oddly enough, I was dating someone, briefly. It was great -- she was great. I was giddy and happy and cute, and spending all of my time thinking about the girl and not going to shows or writing about them nearly as much. But it turns out she fell for someone else. No big deal, not a betrayal in any way, just a disappointment. But it's good to be reminded every once in a while that I can feel so much for someone, even though sometimes you get your ass kicked, and I did. It showed me that when things go right, dating can be a truly wonderful experience. But hopefully now I'll be back to current theatrical events and performance anaylsis and this blog will quit languishing from neglect. Thanks for hanging in there.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 8:13 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Where I'll be tonight and you should, too
I'm super excited that the new reincarnation of Sister Spit, Sister Spit Next Generation is on the road and rolling into LA tonight. And that they'll actually be in LA and not somewhere wacky that I have to drive forever in traffic to get to, such as Claremont or Santa Barbara or San Diego (although their tour does stop all those places). I'm super excited to see Michelle Tea perform. She's an amazing reader, writer, and performer. Eileen Myles is also super-cool and Ali Liebegott is totally hot. Along with these fabulous literary performance powerhouses are some people who I know nothing about, but look forward to discovering. It's a great mix of famous and emerging and I love the opportunity to learn about new voices as much as I'm excited and starstruck for the ones I know. I really hope there's a good showing to prove that LA isn't lame. Cheers to those at the EagleLA and the organizers of Shotgun for providing the space.
Also upcoming and interesting: Cornerstone Theater Company presents Beyond the Beyond: The Gay Futureworld! It's a collaboration between gay youth and gay seniors which will be presented April 12-22 at the LA Gay and Lesbian Center. It's some sort of wacky sci-fi gay play with puppets, which sounds like a winner to me! If i didn't already have tix for something on Friday, I would totally go to their reception, which includes a post-show party with Will Wright's "Moonbot."
Posted by Violet Vixen at 1:12 PM 0 comments
An Unbelievably Boring Play about ADD
Distracted. Mark Taper Forum. 4/10/07.
I hated this play. Actively. It was a preachy play that held absolutely no interest for me. By the end of the play I disagreed with every position and hated every character. The play was slow and redundant with very little character arc or plot arc. It felt like once again a play for old people, which held very little interest to my queer, non-reproducing self. All it served to do was convince me that I never wanted to have kids.
The tragedy is that this play was actually in many ways well-done by many talented people, and yet it was still so boring and infuriating that I considered both leaving mid-scene and throwing things at the main character. There was absolutely no justification for this to be a full two-hour play. Nothing actually happened except a lot of whining.
The people involved in this distracted disaster of a play, however, were extremely talented. Rita Wilson is a beautiful and compelling actress. Why in hell did her character have to be named "Mama"? Why didn't she have a job and a life of her own instead of spending the whole time running around to doctors fussing about her kid? Ray Porter as Dad was also an extremely talented actor but not a particularly compelling character. The several supporting doctor and teacher characters played by Bronson Pinchot and Stephanie Barry were also well done and demonstrate impressive acting skill and range. Unfortunately, that's not nearly enough to liven up this infuriating play.
Even though Lisa Loomer, who is actually a quite talented playwright, disappointed me severely with this piece, her heart is clearly in the right place. Her skill with dialogue is impressive and I'm happy to see a play by a female playwright with a female lead, even if I hated her. She's dealing with issues of family and motherhood that don't get enough time onstage. While I would very much have liked this to be a better play, preferably including a few less priveledged and self-involved characters, I'm mostly glad that it got produced. Better this than more David Mamet, certainly. But I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. I'm disappointed that the Taper seems to be doing plays exclusively intended for middle-aged rich white parents. Thus far, nothing I've seen there this season would appeal to anyone else. Boring.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 9:30 AM 2 comments
Monday, April 09, 2007
A Nearly Perfect Modern Fairy Tale
Sleeping Beauty Wakes. Kirk Douglas Theater. 4/6/07.
Sleeping Beauty Wakes is a new musical created though collaboration between Deaf West Theatre and New York based musical trio GrooveLily. When that was all I knew about it, I had assumed it wasn't a show for me. I'm not deaf and I knew nothing about GrooveLily. Boy was I wrong.
It's a truly magical production, with all the simplicity and beauty that a fairy tale should have; its modern setting doesn't overwhelm or overburden the basic story. The music is beautiful and haunting, featuring striking harmonies between electric violin, drums, and keyboard that nonetheless showcase the human voices and the words and the story as a musical must. Even better, the musical itself had a feminist sensibility through which it reconciled itself to its female lead sleeping through much of the story: "aren't we all waiting for one great kiss?"
Everyone involved in this production was extremely talented, despite a confusing array of actors singing other parts. The lead actress, Alexandria Wailes acts and signs the role of Sleeping Beauty delightfully, but the character is voiced by the multi-talented electric violinist and co-writer/composer Valerie Vigoda. Together, the two of them create a lovely and complex character that manages to be spunky and compelling despite a great deal of sleeping. Similarly, her romantic lead is played by Russell Harvard with voice by keyboardist Brendan Milburn. Although other people sometimes also provide voices for both lead characters. Prominent local talents Kevin Earley and Erika Amato play many of the voices and supporting characters, changing their voices to switch between several roles, while also signing and acting. Amato's singing as the Evil Fairy was particularly powerful.
While it may be difficult to figure out who's singing for which character when, the story itself and its talented performers are so compelling that you don't notice anything but the story and the beautiful performances that create it. I applaud writer/composers Brendan Milburn, Rachel Sheinkin and Valerie Vigoda for their excellent show and all the actors for brilliant performances. I highly encourage you to go see this show.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 8:05 AM 1 comments
Labels: fairy tales, theater reviews
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Weekend Plans
Thursday seems as good a day as any to look forward to what I could and should be doing this weekend.
First of all, tonight (3/29) is Club Butchin' LA. Though I probably won't go because I don't have anyone to go with me and clubs/bars are much harder for me to attend alone than shows are, this is a great event. My previous experience demonstrated that the crowd is fun and very cruise-worthy with fascinating negotiations of queer masculinity and femininity. Very hot. When I went, I spent lots of time chatting with aquaintences, dancing a bit, and even watching someone I had briefly dated make out heavily with a cute girl. Totally fascinating.
Friday (3/30), The Miracle Whips and Shitting Glitter are performing at Pitzer. I don't know if I'm up for the drive, but I really enjoy the performances I've seen by the Miracle Whips thus far and I hear amazing things about Shitting Glitter and they'd both probably be worth the effort.
Saturday is when I get in real trouble because the butchlalis are performing at the LA Gay & Lesbian Center. It sounds like it'll be a great show. Plus, I haven't gone to see the Aqui No Hay Virgenes exhibit yet, so I sould really be there. Unfortunately, I'm instead committed to going to a sock hop out in Burbank with a friend who loves to dance. This should be totally fun, despite my lack of coordination or any sort of dancing talkent or skill, but I'm sad to miss the butchlalis. Though if not for the social obligations and beginners lessons starting early you could totally go to the sock hop after the butchlalis show, and I'm seriously interested in seeing queer folks at this event, so if you feel like subverting the heteronormativity of '50s partner dancing, let me know or just show up. No dancing skill required.
If neither of the above events are your thing, perhaps you will enjoy the fact that this is LA Leather Weekend. I'm not so much into the Mr. Leather 2007 contest on Saturday night or the Military Man after party (NSFW). But I might actually find myself tagging along with some of my gay guy friends at the streetfest on Sunday afternoon. It could be fun if the weather's nice.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 2:54 PM 1 comments
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
365
365 Days/ 365 Plays. Suzan-Lori Parks. Circle X Theatre Company. 3/24/07.
I'm impressed. It's unfortunate that it took until Week 19 to get me to see any of Suzan-Lori Parks' 365 Plays. It's an amazing undertaking and an impressive amount of collaboration and participation across the country.
The set of plays presented by Circle X Theatre Company was a powerful suite of reflections on the war in Iraq and the resultant mindless patriotism, pagentry, and protest. They formed a lovely grouping of ideas and cultural criticism.
Running a bit under half an hour, Circle X performed the plays outside the entrance to the Ford Amphitheater, staging them as a walking tour/environmental piece that made excellent use of a beautiful space. While the earlier pieces were wonderfully self-explanatory but not simple in their responses to the war, posing questions about what it means to be a participant or a protester or even an audience member or television viewer in a time of war, the pieces toward the end of the evening were more obscure in their meaning but thought-provoking nonetheless. All in all it was an excellent, refreshing short piece of theater that demonstrates exactly how much the theater can say about our lives and times in a few simple words and ideas. I was very impressed by both Parks' work and Circle X's production.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 11:00 AM 0 comments
Monday, March 19, 2007
On Fairies
It's been a while since I posted. Sorry. Line dancing was rather a success, in that I had lots of fun and made a big fool of myself with my dismal lack of coordination. I ended up with some plain, servicable black boots that were reasonably priced and fit well. Not particularly feminine, but I also didn't end up with blisters, which is its own reward.
I then immediately departed on a last minute whirlwind trip to San Francisco. I got hit on by an old heterosexual man at a divey gay bar, had an amazingly mellow outdoor barbecue on the streets of San Francisco, and played video games about shooting rabbits with plungers until 6am with a rowdy group of geeky boys. It was a truly wonderful trip. I also watched a couple of episodes of Slings and Arrows
on DVD. It's a Canadian TV show about an established theater company doing Shakespeare and it's truly brilliant and wacky and excellent in every way. I'm totally addicted.
Since then, I've been doing work and other serious not blog-worthy things. But now, I need your help once again. I am once again asking the internet for wacky fashion advice. This time, I'm going to a fractured fairy tale themed event/drag show with slight S/M overtones. So it's an opportunity to dress up in all my femme-y glory. Nothing is too over-the-top, because I'll be competing with drag queens. These events are among friends, so I feel comfortable being rather scandalous and I tend to show off the one major asset that sets me apart from the boys: the fact that my cleavage is real.
My problem is, that I've never been a fairy princess kind of girl. For Halloween as a child I was a witch for many, many years in a row but never a fairy. I'm not the tiny and precious type. While goth fairy is perfectly appropriate for this event, I'm not sure that's exactly me, either, although it would give me an excuse to dye my hair purple again (real purple, not the subtle black/brown/purple I've done recently). So I'm doing some fairy tale research these days, looking for stories or images that might be inspiring. In terms of fairy tales, I tend toward Francesca Lia Block's Weetzie Bat or Neil Gaiman's Stardust
rather than your traditional fairy tales. I recently read and enjoyed Holly Black's Tithe
and Valiant
. Yes, I occasionally read young adult fairy stories when I need a break from academia. I like fairies when they're mischevious and dark and mysterious, or perhaps even a little mean. I'm not a damsel in distress kind of girl, but sometimes fairies can evoke the imagination in fascinating ways.
So, I'm asking for both costuming suggestions and fairy tale (not limited to fairies - witches, princesses, mermaids, goblins, whatever) stories, ideas, and images. Share with me your favorite manifestations of fairy tales, especially modern, queer or otherwise nontraditional fairy tale images. Send me thoughts, pictures or links.
I'll leave you with one of my favorite fairy stories, Christina Rossetti's "Goblin Market." While it can be read as religious and it ends in marriage (bah!), I personally enjoy the sweet temptation and sexuality of the goblins as well as the mild homoeroticism of the sisters.
MORNING and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpeck'd cherries,
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheek'd peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries; -
All ripe together
In summer weather, -
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy:
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye;
Come buy, come buy."
Evening by evening
Among the brookside rushes,
Laura bow'd her head to hear,
Lizzie veil'd her blushes:
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather,
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and finger tips.
"Lie close," Laura said,
Pricking up her golden head:
"We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?"
"Come buy," call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
"Oh," cried Lizzie, "Laura, Laura,
You should not peep at goblin men."
Lizzie cover'd up her eyes,
Cover'd close lest they should look;
Laura rear'd her glossy head,
And whisper'd like the restless brook:
"Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,
Down the glen tramp little men.
One hauls a basket,
One bears a plate,
One lugs a golden dish
Of many pounds weight.
How fair the vine must grow
Whose grapes are so luscious;
How warm the wind must blow
Through those fruit bushes."
"No," said Lizzie, "No, no, no;
Their offers should not charm us,
Their evil gifts would harm us."
She thrust a dimpled finger
In each ear, shut eyes and ran:
Curious Laura chose to linger
Wondering at each merchant man.
One had a cat's face,
One whisk'd a tail,
One tramp'd at a rat's pace,
One crawl'd like a snail,
One like a wombat prowl'd obtuse and furry,
One like a ratel tumbled hurry skurry.
She heard a voice like voice of doves
Cooing all together:
They sounded kind and full of loves
In the pleasant weather.
Laura stretch'd her gleaming neck
Like a rush-imbedded swan,
Like a lily from the beck,
Like a moonlit poplar branch,
Like a vessel at the launch
When its last restraint is gone.
Backwards up the mossy glen
Turn'd and troop'd the goblin men,
With their shrill repeated cry,
"Come buy, come buy."
When they reach'd where Laura was
They stood stock still upon the moss,
Leering at each other,
Brother with queer brother;
Signalling each other,
Brother with sly brother.
One set his basket down,
One rear'd his plate;
One began to weave a crown
Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown
(Men sell not such in any town);
One heav'd the golden weight
Of dish and fruit to offer her:
"Come buy, come buy," was still their cry.
Laura stared but did not stir,
Long'd but had no money:
The whisk-tail'd merchant bade her taste
In tones as smooth as honey,
The cat-faced purr'd,
The rat-faced spoke a word
Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;
One parrot-voiced and jolly
Cried "Pretty Goblin" still for "Pretty Polly;" -
One whistled like a bird.
But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:
"Good folk, I have no coin;
To take were to purloin:
I have no copper in my purse,
I have no silver either,
And all my gold is on the furze
That shakes in windy weather
Above the rusty heather."
"You have much gold upon your head,"
They answer'd all together:
"Buy from us with a golden curl."
She clipp'd a precious golden lock,
She dropp'd a tear more rare than pearl,
Then suck'd their fruit globes fair or red:
Sweeter than honey from the rock,
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,
Clearer than water flow'd that juice;
She never tasted such before,
How should it cloy with length of use?
She suck'd and suck'd and suck'd the more
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore;
She suck'd until her lips were sore;
Then flung the emptied rinds away
But gather'd up one kernel stone,
And knew not was it night or day
As she turn'd home alone.
Lizzie met her at the gate
Full of wise upbraidings:
"Dear, you should not stay so late,
Twilight is not good for maidens;
Should not loiter in the glen
In the haunts of goblin men.
Do you not remember Jeanie,
How she met them in the moonlight,
Took their gifts both choice and many,
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers
Pluck'd from bowers
Where summer ripens at all hours?
But ever in the noonlight
She pined and pined away;
Sought them by night and day,
Found them no more, but dwindled and grew grey;
Then fell with the first snow,
While to this day no grass will grow
Where she lies low:
I planted daisies there a year ago
That never blow.
You should not loiter so."
"Nay, hush," said Laura:
"Nay, hush, my sister:
I ate and ate my fill,
Yet my mouth waters still;
To-morrow night I will
Buy more;" and kiss'd her:
"Have done with sorrow;
I'll bring you plums to-morrow
Fresh on their mother twigs,
Cherries worth getting;
You cannot think what figs
My teeth have met in,
What melons icy-cold
Piled on a dish of gold
Too huge for me to hold,
What peaches with a velvet nap,
Pellucid grapes without one seed:
Odorous indeed must be the mead
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink
With lilies at the brink,
And sugar-sweet their sap."
Golden head by golden head,
Like two pigeons in one nest
Folded in each other's wings,
They lay down in their curtain'd bed:
Like two blossoms on one stem,
Like two flakes of new-fall'n snow,
Like two wands of ivory
Tipp'd with gold for awful kings.
Moon and stars gaz'd in at them,
Wind sang to them lullaby,
Lumbering owls forbore to fly,
Not a bat flapp'd to and fro
Round their rest:
Cheek to cheek and breast to breast
Lock'd together in one nest.
Early in the morning
When the first cock crow'd his warning,
Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,
Laura rose with Lizzie:
Fetch'd in honey, milk'd the cows,
Air'd and set to rights the house,
Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,
Next churn'd butter, whipp'd up cream,
Fed their poultry, sat and sew'd;
Talk'd as modest maidens should:
Lizzie with an open heart,
Laura in an absent dream,
One content, one sick in part;
One warbling for the mere bright day's delight,
One longing for the night.
At length slow evening came:
They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;
Lizzie most placid in her look,
Laura most like a leaping flame.
They drew the gurgling water from its deep;
Lizzie pluck'd purple and rich golden flags,
Then turning homeward said: "The sunset flushes
Those furthest loftiest crags;
Come, Laura, not another maiden lags.
No wilful squirrel wags,
The beasts and birds are fast asleep."
But Laura loiter'd still among the rushes
And said the bank was steep.
And said the hour was early still
The dew not fall'n, the wind not chill;
Listening ever, but not catching
The customary cry,
"Come buy, come buy,"
With its iterated jingle
Of sugar-baited words:
Not for all her watching
Once discerning even one goblin
Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling;
Let alone the herds
That used to tramp along the glen,
In groups or single,
Of brisk fruit-merchant men.
Till Lizzie urged, "O Laura, come;
I hear the fruit-call but I dare not look:
You should not loiter longer at this brook:
Come with me home.
The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,
Each glowworm winks her spark,
Let us get home before the night grows dark:
For clouds may gather
Though this is summer weather,
Put out the lights and drench us through;
Then if we lost our way what should we do?"
Laura turn'd cold as stone
To find her sister heard that cry alone,
That goblin cry,
"Come buy our fruits, come buy."
Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?
Must she no more such succous pasture find,
Gone deaf and blind?
Her tree of life droop'd from the root:
She said not one word in her heart's sore ache;
But peering thro' the dimness, nought discerning,
Trudg'd home, her pitcher dripping all the way;
So crept to bed, and lay
Silent till Lizzie slept;
Then sat up in a passionate yearning,
And gnash'd her teeth for baulk'd desire, and wept
As if her heart would break.
Day after day, night after night,
Laura kept watch in vain
In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
She never caught again the goblin cry:
"Come buy, come buy;" -
She never spied the goblin men
Hawking their fruits along the glen:
But when the noon wax'd bright
Her hair grew thin and grey;
She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn
To swift decay and burn
Her fire away.
One day remembering her kernel-stone
She set it by a wall that faced the south;
Dew'd it with tears, hoped for a root,
Watch'd for a waxing shoot,
But there came none;
It never saw the sun,
It never felt the trickling moisture run:
While with sunk eyes and faded mouth
She dream'd of melons, as a traveller sees
False waves in desert drouth
With shade of leaf-crown'd trees,
And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.
She no more swept the house,
Tended the fowls or cows,
Fetch'd honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,
Brought water from the brook:
But sat down listless in the chimney-nook
And would not eat.
Tender Lizzie could not bear
To watch her sister's cankerous care
Yet not to share.
She night and morning
Caught the goblins' cry:
"Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy;" -
Beside the brook, along the glen,
She heard the tramp of goblin men,
The yoke and stir
Poor Laura could not hear;
Long'd to buy fruit to comfort her,
But fear'd to pay too dear.
She thought of Jeanie in her grave,
Who should have been a bride;
But who for joys brides hope to have
Fell sick and died
In her gay prime,
In earliest winter time
With the first glazing rime,
With the first snow-fall of crisp winter time.
Till Laura dwindling
Seem'd knocking at Death's door:
Then Lizzie weigh'd no more
Better and worse;
But put a silver penny in her purse,
Kiss'd Laura, cross'd the heath with clumps of furze
At twilight, halted by the brook:
And for the first time in her life
Began to listen and look.
Laugh'd every goblin
When they spied her peeping:
Came towards her hobbling,
Flying, running, leaping,
Puffing and blowing,
Chuckling, clapping, crowing,
Clucking and gobbling,
Mopping and mowing,
Full of airs and graces,
Pulling wry faces,
Demure grimaces,
Cat-like and rat-like,
Ratel- and wombat-like,
Snail-paced in a hurry,
Parrot-voiced and whistler,
Helter skelter, hurry skurry,
Chattering like magpies,
Fluttering like pigeons,
Gliding like fishes, -
Hugg'd her and kiss'd her:
Squeez'd and caress'd her:
Stretch'd up their dishes,
Panniers, and plates:
"Look at our apples
Russet and dun,
Bob at our cherries,
Bite at our peaches,
Citrons and dates,
Grapes for the asking,
Pears red with basking
Out in the sun,
Plums on their twigs;
Pluck them and suck them,
Pomegranates, figs." -
"Good folk," said Lizzie,
Mindful of Jeanie:
"Give me much and many: -
Held out her apron,
Toss'd them her penny.
"Nay, take a seat with us,
Honour and eat with us,"
They answer'd grinning:
"Our feast is but beginning.
Night yet is early,
Warm and dew-pearly,
Wakeful and starry:
Such fruits as these
No man can carry:
Half their bloom would fly,
Half their dew would dry,
Half their flavour would pass by.
Sit down and feast with us,
Be welcome guest with us,
Cheer you and rest with us." -
"Thank you," said Lizzie: "But one waits
At home alone for me:
So without further parleying,
If you will not sell me any
Of your fruits though much and many,
Give me back my silver penny
I toss'd you for a fee." -
They began to scratch their pates,
No longer wagging, purring,
But visibly demurring,
Grunting and snarling.
One call'd her proud,
Cross-grain'd, uncivil;
Their tones wax'd loud,
Their look were evil.
Lashing their tails
They trod and hustled her,
Elbow'd and jostled her,
Claw'd with their nails,
Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,
Tore her gown and soil'd her stocking,
Twitch'd her hair out by the roots,
Stamp'd upon her tender feet,
Held her hands and squeez'd their fruits
Against her mouth to make her eat.
White and golden Lizzie stood,
Like a lily in a flood, -
Like a rock of blue-vein'd stone
Lash'd by tides obstreperously, -
Like a beacon left alone
In a hoary roaring sea,
Sending up a golden fire, -
Like a fruit-crown'd orange-tree
White with blossoms honey-sweet
Sore beset by wasp and bee, -
Like a royal virgin town
Topp'd with gilded dome and spire
Close beleaguer'd by a fleet
Mad to tug her standard down.
One may lead a horse to water,
Twenty cannot make him drink.
Though the goblins cuff'd and caught her,
Coax'd and fought her,
Bullied and besought her,
Scratch'd her, pinch'd her black as ink,
Kick'd and knock'd her,
Maul'd and mock'd her,
Lizzie utter'd not a word;
Would not open lip from lip
Lest they should cram a mouthful in:
But laugh'd in heart to feel the drip
Of juice that syrupp'd all her face,
And lodg'd in dimples of her chin,
And streak'd her neck which quaked like curd.
At last the evil people,
Worn out by her resistance,
Flung back her penny, kick'd their fruit
Along whichever road they took,
Not leaving root or stone or shoot;
Some writh'd into the ground,
Some div'd into the brook
With ring and ripple,
Some scudded on the gale without a sound,
Some vanish'd in the distance.
In a smart, ache, tingle,
Lizzie went her way;
Knew not was it night or day;
Sprang up the bank, tore thro' the furze,
Threaded copse and dingle,
And heard her penny jingle
Bouncing in her purse, -
Its bounce was music to her ear.
She ran and ran
As if she fear'd some goblin man
Dogg'd her with gibe or curse
Or something worse:
But not one goblin scurried after,
Nor was she prick'd by fear;
The kind heart made her windy-paced
That urged her home quite out of breath with haste
And inward laughter.
She cried, "Laura," up the garden,
"Did you miss me?
Come and kiss me.
Never mind my bruises,
Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices
Squeez'd from goblin fruits for you,
Goblin pulp and goblin dew.
Eat me, drink me, love me;
Laura, make much of me;
For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin merchant men."
Laura started from her chair,
Flung her arms up in the air,
Clutch'd her hair:
"Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted
For my sake the fruit forbidden?
Must your light like mine be hidden,
Your young life like mine be wasted,
Undone in mine undoing,
And ruin'd in my ruin,
Thirsty, canker'd, goblin-ridden?" -
She clung about her sister,
Kiss'd and kiss'd and kiss'd her:
Tears once again
Refresh'd her shrunken eyes,
Dropping like rain
After long sultry drouth;
Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,
She kiss'd and kiss'd her with a hungry mouth.
Her lips began to scorch,
That juice was wormwood to her tongue,
She loath'd the feast:
Writhing as one possess'd she leap'd and sung,
Rent all her robe, and wrung
Her hands in lamentable haste,
And beat her breast.
Her locks stream'd like the torch
Borne by a racer at full speed,
Or like the mane of horses in their flight,
Or like an eagle when she stems the light
Straight toward the sun,
Or like a caged thing freed,
Or like a flying flag when armies run.
Swift fire spread through her veins, knock'd at her heart,
Met the fire smouldering there
And overbore its lesser flame;
She gorged on bitterness without a name:
Ah! fool, to choose such part
Of soul-consuming care!
Sense fail'd in the mortal strife:
Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters down,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about,
Like a foam-topp'd waterspout
Cast down headlong in the sea,
She fell at last;
Pleasure past and anguish past,
Is it death or is it life?
Life out of death.
That night long Lizzie watch'd by her,
Counted her pulse's flagging stir,
Felt for her breath,
Held water to her lips, and cool'd her face
With tears and fanning leaves:
But when the first birds chirp'd about their eaves,
And early reapers plodded to the place
Of golden sheaves,
And dew-wet grass
Bow'd in the morning winds so brisk to pass,
And new buds with new day
Open'd of cup-like lilies on the stream,
Laura awoke as from a dream,
Laugh'd in the innocent old way,
Hugg'd Lizzie but not twice or thrice;
Her gleaming locks show'd not one thread of grey,
Her breath was sweet as May
And light danced in her eyes.
Days, weeks, months, years
Afterwards, when both were wives
With children of their own;
Their mother-hearts beset with fears,
Their lives bound up in tender lives;
Laura would call the little ones
And tell them of her early prime,
Those pleasant days long gone
Of not-returning time:
Would talk about the haunted glen,
The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men,
Their fruits like honey to the throat
But poison in the blood;
(Men sell not such in any town):
Would tell them how her sister stood
In deadly peril to do her good,
And win the fiery antidote:
Then joining hands to little hands
Would bid them cling together,
"For there is no friend like a sister
In calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one stands.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 11:52 AM 1 comments
Monday, March 05, 2007
Mourning
This is all spoiler, so if you watch Battlestar and haven't seen the most recent episode, skip it.
I woke up this morning to several blog postings in my newsreader about last night's Battlestar Galactica, which I had missed because I was at the theater. So I put off doing productive work and fired up the TiVo to catch me up on what I missed before one of my favorite blogs spoiled it for me. And now I'm a mess of confused thoughts and feelings. Because one way or another, there's no turning back from this. I hope.
Starbuck for me is a primary reason to watch Battlestar Galactica. She's a powerful, compelling character who frequently infuriated me with her attitude and her mistakes. She's also the strongest, toughest, sexiest, most interesting woman on the show for me. Six's scanty red dresses do nothing for me when compared to Starbuck's dirt and muscles. Her self-image as a frak-up and her strength and determination combine to form one powerful, conflicted, amazing character. And actress Katee Sackhoff* performed Starbuck's special brand of crazy with such an amazing cockiness and the most adorable smile, that I totally fell in love. And while I was not completely onboard with Starbuck's purported heterosexuality, I appreciated the unabashed voraciousness of her sexuality and even her angsty love triangle. The character of Starbuck is one of the toughest women on television, and her loss is a serious one for the show.
Now, there's a very real possiblity that we haven't heard the last of Kara Thrace. The internet is rife with speculation that she will reappear as a Cylon. And certainly I expect her to haunt the characters in flashbacks. But my feeling is that no matter what, this character is destroyed. If they bring her back as a Cylon, she could be just as tough (though odds are she would end up clean and pretty a lot more of the time and they'd probably even let her grow out her hair again), but she would lack the cocky human imperfection that endeared her to me so much. While I don't want to lose Katee Sackhoff completely, I also don't want to see Starbuck corrupted and resignified. I like her as the arrogant flyboy and the Cylons spend too much time sitting around talking and plotting, using machines and "pet" raiders for the action. I don't picture seeing a Cylon Kara in the cockpit. And Sharon certainly hasn't been nearly as kickass as she was before she was revealed to be a Cylon. So, while there's the possibility of new and interesting characters incorporating Katee Sackhoff into Battlestar in a different context, Starbuck as I know and love her seems unlikely to return.
Special destiny my ass. If this is Starbuck's destiny, I reject that completely. I would have less trouble accepting Starbuck's death if it were a bit more noble/foolhardy in the line of duty. If she died making some crazy attempt to defend or save someone from a very real threat, that I could understand. It would be in line with her character. But going into the light from her own halucinations without any sort of beneficial outcome? It feels wrong. Starbuck's a fighter. That's the one thing that gives me hope that we have more to hear from Starbuck. That and the fact that the Leoben in her head was talking about "between life and death" rather than death itself. Whatever that means. It would feel like cheating if Starbuck as she is somehow survives, but I also want to see her live out a human destiny rather than a Cylon one.
I'm not ready to move on. Based on the previews, the next episode is all Baltar trial. Which indicates a thoroughly insufficient amount of mourning for Starbuck. I need more than Adama (very movingly) destroying his model ship with its promise of hope and dawn. If Starbuck is really dead, everyone needs to be fraked up about it. Lee should be pinning a photo next to Kat. Lee and Anders should reconcile to share their loss. Everyone should be drinking. A lot. Adama's effectively lost another child. And I miss the hope and bonding and shared destiny between President Roslyn and Starbuck when Starbuck went in search of the Arrow of Apollo. I still feel like all the mystical hope that Starbuck offered never came to fruition for me. If they're really killing her off, I need a lot of mourning time to recover from this serious loss to the series. And if they're not, they're going to have to do a lot to win back my trust in whatever reincarnation happens.
Whatever happens, they're obviously building to another mind-bending and probably heart-wrenching season finale, which can be expected from Battlestar and which is one of many reasons why I keep coming back.
UPDATE: Annalee Newitz weighs in with an opinion that many things in the episode were pretty icky and terribly uncharacteristic. The internet in general seems pretty secure in the idea that this isn't the last we've seen of Katee Sackhoff and hopefully not even Kara Thrace. My question is, will I be glad to see her if/when she comes back, or will it feel wrong?
*NOTE: This post is about Starbuck, the character. While Katee Sackhoff obviously rocks in the part, she insists that she's totally girly off camera and that we most likely won't see her in more scifi or jock roles in the future. Sigh.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 1:24 PM 1 comments
Labels: Battlestar, Starbuck, TV
Friday, March 02, 2007
Playing dress up: Boots
My favorite gaggle of gay boys has recruited me for line dancing. I find myself once again in a situation in which I need to dress for an odd occasion. In this case, I need boots, and I have come to the conclusion that I'm going to have to make a serious investment to get proper boots. So I'm looking to the internet for brilliant boot-shopping advice. Western wear is decidedly not a part of my everyday wardrobe, and as such I need help. My boot needs are simple. I'm looking for something vaguely feminine, with toes that aren't too long and pointy. No tassles. And unfortunately, I should probably avoid anything with a significant heel, since any dancing makes me prone to falling on my butt and high heels probably wouldn't help the situation.
This is a pair of nice, neutral boots that I think are attractive.
These boots are less specifically western, but I think they're beautiful and quite feminine, and I might be able to wear them on more occasions.
I find the white details on these boots rather appealing.
I'm also tempted to get something totally outlandish, like these lovely purple fluevogs. But what could I wear them with?
And these boots have pin-up girls on them, which I love. And they're pretty cheap. But awfully silly and a ostentatious.
So, what do you think? Any advice on color or style that I should heed? Boot-related wisdom or advice? I've already run into the problem that I can't wear a knee-length dress with boots without looking short and stubby, which is totally annoying. Which Is why I've settled on the jeans and a western shirt. I have a red one that would work, but I'm definitely keeping my eye out for more appropriate options. And any advice on this front is certainly welcome. What qualifies as femme for line-dancing purposes?
Posted by Violet Vixen at 11:05 AM 1 comments
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
BdP Sell Out
B.d.P. Get U.G.L.Y. Butchlalis de Panochtitlan. Highways Performance Space. 2/24/07.
No, not sell out to the man, sell out the venue. As in, Highways was packed. Which is great for the artists, but not so much fun for audience members waiting to get in. I don't think people were turned away, but I'm not sure. It did mean that the crowd had a decent amount of energy, which always helps the show.
I love the butchlalis shows. They continue to cross boundaries and raise questions in challenging ways. They bring together an engaged audience of interesting, queer, intelligent people. Their experimentation with balancing video and live performance doesn't always work for me, but I appreciate the effort. This particular performance seemed too video-heavy, especially at the beginning. I come to the theater to see live performance, and this time there were only a few short monologue interludes before "Cosa Rara" right before intermission.
Each of the video pieces was interesting, with the real heart being in "Beautiful Torture," an editing of home videos to depict queer fatherhood through Nadine/o's experience of watching and participating in hir girlfriend giving birth. This piece was sweet and heartfelt if a little longer than it needed to be, and oh so personal. I felt as if I were intruding on a very private moment, sharing feelings of love and pride and amazement with the couple who opened up their personal experience for an audience in this piece.
"Cosa Rara," the first extended live piece in the show, was a fascinating if problematic dialogue between Claudia/o as butch lesbian and Mari as a trans woman. You've gotta love the fact that the butchlalis aren't afraid to gender bend and cross dress in girl drag. The shock of Mari decked out in wig and tight jeans had the audience shouting and laughing from the beginning of the piece, but it wasn't necessarily a humorous piece. It started out with the premise that technically a butch woman and a transwoman could legally marry, but proceeded to the transwoman character insisting that she was straight. Which left ambigious the relationship between the two characters if it could be intimate enough to inspire one to propose but distant enough that the transwoman could be anti-lesbian. This whole piece was an interesting thought problem and characterization, but also problematic. Why did they give voice to the transwoman's character and experience but not the butch's? Claudia/o's character was mostly tongue-tied and silent while Mari's talked and danced. What compelling idea in this piece needed to be said by these people at this time and why? Why not have a transwoman write and play this role herself?
After intermission came the strongest and most compelling performance of the show. It began with Claudia/o as an early LA punk rocker and Mari in a fabulous suit as an embodiment of Rubén Salazar introducing the piece. He felt a little bit like Rod Serling. This vignette of a moment in Los Angeles history at the intersection of the Chicano Movement and the emergence of punk was a beautiful confluence of local history and character development. Raquelito played Chonch, a butch barber in East LA, with Nadine/o as Carny, her young "pretty boy" baby butch assistant. Claudia/o comes in wearing a miniskirt and holey fishnets as Betty Basta, punk rocker ("you may be a punk, but I'm punk") to get a mohawk. The historical confluence of resistant identities is fascinating and powerful and by far my favorite part of the evening. I feel that in this piece, the butchlalis have found their groove in exploring the relationship between identity and local history in a way that both informs the audience and entertains them.
Congrats to the butchlalis for another interesting and complex show. I'll certainly keep coming back for more.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 10:09 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
A Good Month for Feminist Art
There are some super-cool events surrounding the WACK! Art and the Feminist Revolution exhibit at the MOCA, which runs March 4-July 16. The exhibit itself sounds quite extensive and includes several names I recognize such as Marina Abramovic, Judy Chicago, Tee Corinne, Barbara Hammer, Linda Montano, Yvonne Rainer, Sally Potter, Carolee Schneemann, Valerie Solanas, and Spiderwoman Theater.
There are two events related to this exhibit that caught my eye. The first, Shared Women, is opening tomorrow and I'm not sure I'll make it to the opening reception because I have an academic committment that will probably go until at least 8pm, but I will definitely check out the exhibit at some point.
Shared Women at LACE, curated by A.L. Steiner, Emily Roysdon and Eve Fowler advertises itself as:
an exhibition that is dependent on cronyism, feminism and nepotism. We are supposed to be doing it for the love of the craft, for the love of humankind, for the love of the planet but we are not. We sleep with each other, inspire, plot, plan, respond, complain, collaborate, and analyze. We reorganize and reaffirm our histories every few years, culling histories from ‘the women’ and ‘the gays,’ from outsiders now insiders. This is a gay feminist show that picks up the tools of our mothers and refashions them to seduce and influence each other. Maybe some artists in this show have slept their way to the middle. Maybe some are using that bridge called my back, but all are creating conscientious contemporary feminist art that needs to be seen by more than the “communities” that form around alternative venues, ideologies, and shared women. Welcome to our dirty commerce.
The opening reception, wednesday February 28th, 2007, 7-9 pm at LACE in Hollywood, will feature performances by Marriage, Taisha Paggett, Tri-state Area, Edie Fake & Dewayne Sleightweight with interactive opportunities with Tit Pin and A.K. Burns in the Transaction Station. Contributors to the exhibit that I recognize (not already mentioned) includeChicks on Speed, Ginger Brooks Takahashi, JD Samson, K8 Hardy, Stanya Kahn & Harry Dodge, The Third Leg, and Ulrike Mueller. Many of these are young queer feminist artists who have collaborated on projects before, including the journal lttr.
The second event that caught my eye was:
Aqui No Hay Virgenes: Queer Latina Visibility
curated by Jennifer Doyle & Raquel Gutierrez
Opening March 15 7PM and running through April 30
The Advocate & Gochis Galleries
at The Village at Ed Gould Plaza
The artists in this group show present us with atypical images of radical Latina selves. They forego the compulsory iconographies associated with mainstream Latina identity - no corn husk goddesses, no Virgenes de Guadalupe. These are anarchic visions of bruisers, brooders, and romantics that will knock you out with a kiss. Thus the title: “here lie no virgins”. In their place we have women of subcultural distinction; women with attitude and a strong sexual presence- divas, punk rockers, malcriadas (bad girls) and peleoneras (fighters). Featuring the work of Delilah Montoya, Alice Bag, Nao Bustamante, Diane Gamboa, Alma Lopez, and Shizu Saldamando.
This exhibit features an opening reception on March 15 from 7 to 10pm (free). The Butchlalis will also be doing a performance in conjunction with this exhibit on March 31 at 8pm. Tickets are $15, but I have no information on how to get them. I hope this won't be overbooked the way their Highways show was.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 10:59 AM 2 comments
Labels: events, exhibits, feminism, feminist art
Friday, February 23, 2007
Femme-inism
I thought I had written this post before, but looking back in the archives, it's not readily apparent. So perhaps I have never actually posted musings on femme identity. It's something I think about often and don't talk about a lot because it's easy to fall into the trap of saying things that have been said before and that doesn't interest me much. So here's my femme story. It's simple and very personal and not terribly unique, but perhaps it needs to be said. Apologies if it's a bit rambly.
My relationship to femminity has always been vexed. I was a feminist long before I identified as queer or femme or lesbian. Instinctually, long before I had the proper language or political awareness, I identified with women and yet hated a lot of the ideas associated with feminity.
In high school, I saw my wonderful guy friends dating pretty, dumb girls and I was jealous and angry and mad at the world for the fact that it was in any way acceptable for girls to be dumb. Yes, I admit a tendency toward intellectual snobbery and complete impatience with anyone who is willfully ignorant and girls in my high school were often willfully ignorant or incompetent as a way of performing femininity. They were also manipulative, so that I associated femininity with acting dumb and manipulating boys into doing things. That was profoundly unattractive to me and resulted in a severe disidentification with femininty in high school that might have bordered on misogyny. I was not nice to the pretty, stupid girls.
But I also very much enjoyed the accoutrements of femininity. I went through phases of wearing dresses and makeup for long periods of time. I played with bubble baths and lotions and all sorts of girly products. But I was also always already a failure at feminity because I was not pretty. I also have a fairly pathetic innate fashion sense and I generally looked pretty frumpy throughout high school.
The end result was that I spent large portions of high school in ratty jeans and paint-splattered t-shirts building sets and hanging lights with the boys and trying to distance myself from most of the girls. There were, of course, excpetions; nerdy girls are always OK with me and I still fondly remember Cheese Danish girl, who was probably my first recongizable girl crush. She was wonderfully unique with her princess leia buns and her retro dress and swing dancing. Sigh. But the point is, that I mostly rejected feminity because I couldn't express the fact that I deeply desired to be feminine without the associated manipulativeness, stupidity, and traditional standards of beauty.
In college, I continued to be tough and dirty and bossy, spending much of my time working in the theater and covered in paint and dust, but I also met women who were both tough and feminine for the first time. Satan, a firey redhead who carried a knife and climbed ladders to hang lights in high heels, taught me a lot about finding other ways to be feminine. So I would bounce back and forth between work clothes and dresses, learning to embrace and enjoy the times when I got to dress up and wear a skirt and heels and be girly.
But it wasn't until I met my First Girlfriend that everything really fell into place. When I first saw her, I was on top of a ladder, and I had to look twice to tell if she was a boy or a girl. When she first noticed me, I was wearing heels and makeup and a tight sweater. She loved my girly side, and under her appreciation, it blossomed. Within the context of a queer relationship, I rediscovered my love of makeup and heels and decolletage in a way that made feminity exciting rather than creepy. I didn't have to be dumb or fake or anything else to be feminine, and I didn't feel like I failure just because I didn't look like everyone else.
Since then, my approach toward femininity has grown and changed. I've learned many of the ways that femininty can be fun and playful and provocative rather than confining and heteronormative and exclusionary. And I love that. I always freak out just a little when I start dating someone and they treat me like a girl (or a lady). I'm very bad about having a butch open doors and pay bills for me if I'm just getting to know them. I feel the need to demonstrate that I'm tough and independent and capable first, before I can be soft and flirty. Because that femininity is so charged and carefully negotiated for me, it takes me a while to settle into my own femininity with a new person. But when I'm relaxed and comfortable with someone, there's nothing better than having my feminity recognized, respected, and appreciated. And when I'm in a safe space for queer femininity, I'm so much happier with myself and the world.
Femmes have always been tough, and I love that; it's a proud tradition of strong women. Queer femininity requires walking a narrow line, defending oneself against the many people who will assume you're straight despite vast amounts of evidence to the contrary while trying to mobilize the markers of femininity in queer ways. Using the same things that women have always used to appeal to men, femmes work hard to change the signification of lipstick and heels, stockings and skirts, breasts and legs. In a femme's hands, all of these things become queer, but you're always fighting to make sure people know they're queer. That's a tough, in-your-face process, and it's hard to articulate how that process works. Actually, I'd like to talk more about these strategies. Do any of you out there have insight into how markers of femininity get resignified as queer? What strategies work? How do you know if a femmy girl is queer? How does one recognize a femme?
Some of the strategies for performing femininity queerly that come to mind for me are excess, displacement, and contextualization. Of course, all of these are intertwined, but perhaps I can begin some sort of articlation. Excess is performing super-femininity. That there's something about queer femininity that's just a little bit more than heterofemininity. An extra embrace of makeup or pink or or heels. I love going to parties with drag queens because then I don't feel self-conscious about displaying my body, which is already excessive, or wearing too much bright makeup, because their makeup is inevitably even more multicolored and bright and shiny. Displacement, which I find fascinating, is about marking your performance of femininity so that it can't be naturalized. I picture this as being achieved (for me) by retro clothing or perhaps by specifically class-marked clothing as well (I'm thinking a sort of 'trashy' aesthetic such as gold lamé). By wearing clothes evokative of another time period or social milieu, you distinguish yourself from the everyday performances of femininity that surround you. And contextualization is simply that I'm queer, so if it's on me, it's queer. When a femme is in queer space, her femininity can be recognized and appreciated as queer. This is the one where femme visibility becomes more of an issue. If a femme is obviously with another woman, then her femininity can easily be read as queer. If she's in close physical contact with someone butcher than herself, people can read that as queer. When she's on her own walking down the street, people sometimes have trouble with recognizing that that too can be a queer context. Are there other strategies for performing queer femininity? Other thoughts on the matter out there?
Posted by Violet Vixen at 6:39 PM 1 comments
Labels: femme
Buzzing!
Great night tonight. Katastrophe and Nicky Click at club butchin at Mr. T's Bowl.
The show started with Sharp Ease who were kind of cute and fun, but a bit redundant-sounding.
Katastrophe makes me squeal. Eeep! He was super-fun to watch, even though the crowd was mysteriously subdued and not giving him a lot of good feedback in terms of dancing and screaming. Usually I blame the artist's audience management skills for any dearth of crowd energy, but Katastrophe was giving a good, energetic performance complete with adorably expressive gestures and faces. That boy communicates a lot with his eyes. I seriously could have watched him perform for hours. It made me realize how much I love his first CD, let's f*ck then talk about my problems, which a friend borrowed from me like a year ago and never gave back. I seriously need to get that back or order a new one, because it's awesome. Katastrophe did a great job balancing songs from both his albums and generally being great. Sigh. Love.
Finishing off the night was Nicky Click, who was pretty darn fun. I didn't know anything about her before tonight, but she was totally entertaining and I found myself bopping and singing along even though I didn't know the words. She puts on an awesome stage show and seriously works the audience.
I'm glad to be back in LA, and though I'm exhausted, being out in queer space tonight really made me happy. And I'm totally impressed with the demographics of club butchin. As the name implies, there was a delightfully wide range of queer masculinity, butchness, genderqueerness, and transness. There were cute, interesting folks to look at everywhere I turned and that makes me super-happy. I got introduced to cute boys, had some conversations with acquaintences who may be becoming friends, and generally enjoyed myself all around. I seriously came home still buzzing with the exitement of chatting and fliriting and dancing and just generally being around cool, intelligent queer folks. Yay! Cheers to those who organize club butchin; if this is its regular crowd, I'll definitely be back.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 3:01 AM 0 comments
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Cute But Dumb
Adrift in Macao. Primary Stages. 59E59 Theaters. 2/14/07
I wouldn't date someone who was cute but dumb, and I'm a little dubious about a musical with the same qualities. Christopher Durang's new musical (with music by Peter Melnick), Adrift in Macao, has moments when it's really fun, but generally eschews being clever in favor of being wacky. In the program, Durang distinguishes his "satiric and dark comedy plays" and "entertainments" which include "parodies and what I might call my 'friendly, silly' plays." Adrift in Macao has nothing dark about it, which is odd for a parody of a genre that's all about light and shadow, discontent with society and the darker side of human nature.
It manages to be a fun play with some good moments, but more attention to the strengths of the genre being parodied would help quite a bit. There are some fun musical numbers, paticularly "Adrift in Macao" and "Mr. McGuffin" even though I find the whole McGuffin plot irritating. The night club songs, as they often are in '40s films, are more irritating and stupid than compelling. And the premise of Rick (Will Swenson as Rick Shaw) inserting a song because he's not getting enough attention, while briefly funny, seems to me a rip off of the self-conscious songs of Spamalot. Swenson is, however, an interesting and underused actor and character. He looks the part of the film noir hero more than Alan Campbell does; Campbell's a bit too cuddly for the role, in my opinion, and the stubble fails to make him look tough at all. This is funny, though, since he also played the lead in another film noir musical, Sunset Boulevard.
The elements that Adrift in Macao picked up from the film Macao are by far its strongest parts, though Durang seems to have chosenthe one noir film without much in the way of femme fatale. While Jane Russel's character in the film (Lureena played by Rachel De Benedet in Durang's version) is tough and interesting and capable of taking care of herself, all she wants is to settle down somewhere, preferably back in the USA. In Durang's version, she actually says all she wants is a man to take care of her. Groan. And does she really have to be that blond? I hated her wig.
Macao itself, for a film set in distant and exotic Asia, actually isn't that bad in terms of Asian sterotypes, so Durang adds a few for good measure. Tempura, the "inscrutable" Asian who frequently insists "I'm very scrutable!" is an annoying and offensive role played hilariously by Orville Mendoza.
Michele Ragusa plays Corinna, a rival nightclub singer, and she's fun and funny and has excellent comedic skills. She and Mendoza may be the best things about this play. But unfortunately, noir is not a genre in which a second lead comedic pair really works, so their roles are rather nonsensical despite their talents and best efforts.
Overall, Adrift in Macao had many jokes that made me laugh outwardly and groan inwardly at the same time. I did have fun watching the play, but that's not really enough for me. I kept feeling that with a little tweaking it could have been a much better play, especially if it hadn't assumed its audience was stupid. For example, in a few of the early scenes, Tempura carries around the Maltese falcon, which is a fun reference for those of us in the know. Eventually, Rick Shaw explains that he's going to use it to smuggle fake diamonds, which actually makes the reference less funny than when it was just a funny object hanging around. At one point, Corrina invites Mitch to "come up and see me some time." Why use a Mae West line, when there are fabulous seduction scenes between Bacal and Bogart that would have been just as familiar and so much more noir ("You do know how to whistle, don't you" springs to mind). I would have loved to see more references to noir films that actually assume some people in the audience might have some knowledge of the genre. Concepts such as existentialism and film noir are not entirely foreign to most people with any sort of education, so even though it's not safe to assume that people have seen Macao or any given specific noir film, it would have been nice to have given them credit for familiarity with film noir in general.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 7:20 AM 0 comments
Forcible Upgrade
Darn you, Blogger. I was just forced to upgrade to the new Blogger, which would have been fine if there were any new features I particularly cared about, but really, as far as I see it this is a lot of hassle without much progress.
What bugs the heck out of me is the fact that I happen to have two gmail accounts, one related to this blog and one where I receive all of my school email. I HATE that I now have to sign out of my regular email account, which I am accustomed to having open all the time, in order to blog. I think this is just dumb. There are, of course, solutions, such as opening blogger in a different browser (safari rather than firefox, not just a different window) or using mail to download my email, but I think either of these is an unnecessary inconvenience. Grr.
It also sucks that in the process of transferring, Blogger threw all of the links in my sidebar into one large list that is then not easy to separate out into the 3 categories I had before. This does give me the opportunity to rethink and reorganize my lists, but again, it's certainly more hassle than progress. I'm not going to have time to do this for at least a week, since I'm in New York and have more important work to do. So if you just got cut from my link list, I apologize, and I will fix it in a week or two. Feel free to drop me a note about it if you want.
And in all this, I thought the advantage was that the templates would be more easily customizable, but I still can't manage to change the background color of this to a slightly less bright pink. And there still isn't much in the way of purple options, which would make more sense for something called violet. I assume most of you read this in a newsreader of some sort anyway, but if not and you have opinions on how it should look, I'd love to hear them.
Of course, prophecy boy is right when he said this is why you use something that's fully customizable instead of locked into templates and whatnot. But I was intimidated by that thought and not that serious about it when I first started blogging and I didn't have any serious problems with blogger until now. Sigh.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 6:27 AM 4 comments
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Public Service Announcement: Gender Neutral Restrooms
Annalee Newitz, who I try not to obsess over publicly on a regular basis, just posted an Alternet column about a website that maps gender neutral bathrooms. This is super important for so many people, and the folks who did this are obviously brilliant and super-cool. I'm really glad such a site exists and I think those of you who read my blog might want to know this and/or pass it on. It doesn't look like LA has been extensively mapped as of yet, so local folks should totally get on this and input gender neutral and unisex bathrooms wherever they exist. Three cheers to www.safetopee.org.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 10:33 PM 1 comments
I <3 NY
I arrived safely in New York after only small amounts of fascism at the airport. My deadly moisturizer was confiscated (my fault for forgetting it was in my carryon, but seriously stupid rules that suggest it's dangerous).
I come to the heart of the U.S. theater world not to see plays, but to watch videos of past performances in the library. The life of a grad student is soooo thrilling. V-Day itself will be completely devoted to research, though I do have some fun queer activities looming later in the week. Yay!
Posted by Violet Vixen at 10:26 PM 1 comments
Monday, February 12, 2007
Trans performance for a good cause
This looks to be a good show - I'm sorry I'm missing it.
Fully Functional: Variety is a Transgender Disease!
Down-home transgender comedy, music, philosophical musings to soak your teabags!
Sunday, Feb. 18th at 7:00 PM
Silver Screen Theater
Pacific Design Center at 8687.
Cost is only $5 at the door!
"Fully Functional—Variety is a Transgender Disease" happens on Sunday, Feb. 18th at 7:00 PM at the Silver Screen Theater at the Pacific Design Center at 8687 Melrose Avenue (the "Big Blue Whale" in West Hollywood) West Hollywood, CA 90069. Cost is only $5 at the door. There are only 380 seats, so get there early! "Fully Functional" presents some of LA's finest transgender performers alongside some of the bravest and most dedicated heroes in our transgender/genderqueer community! Think of it as "Performing with the Stars" for transgendered Los Angeles!
"Fully Functional" is directed by ryka aoki de la cruz, and features Maddie Deutsch, D'Lo, Charlene Mackenzie, Trystan Reese, Helen Wong, Lorelei Erisis and the Fully Functional Players, Charlene Mackenzie, Shauna Madrigal, Trystan Reese, Alexis Rivera, Skim, Lauren Steely, Studs Clothing, DJ Trannity, Mr. Tuffnstuff, with art by the renowned Trisha Van Cleef and much more!
Who are we? We are doctors, blues musicians, and porn stars. We are hip hop artists, Shakespearean actors, and professional gamblers. We are combat vets, professors, and fashion designers. We are social workers, geologists, and standup comics. We've got people who like marinara and people who like meatballs, people who know when to hold'em and when to fold'em. We've got hardcore fashionistas, and people who couldn't accessorize if Coco Chanel hit them on their heads with a quilted leather handbag!
So come and taste a some down-home transgender comedy, music, philosophical musings that will soak your teabags!
"Fully Functional----Variety is a Transgender Disease" will donate all proceeds toward the installation of a Transgender Memorial at Matthew Shepard Triangle to honor all the TG family who have been killed as a result of hate and prejudice.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 11:16 AM 1 comments
Friday, February 09, 2007
Upcoming Events
Here are the super awesome, super queer events that are on my radar. Sadly, I'll miss most of them because I'm heading to NYC, but I'll be seeing super awesome New York shows and doing research. But those of you in LA should get yourself to one or many of these events.
HomoRevolution Tour Fundraiser. A tour of the southwest promoting several queer HipHop artists, including Deadlee. The tour itself begins at the end of March, but this fundraiser will be a bit of a preview of local homohop talent. Here's a newspaper article on the event.
Miracle Whips Burlesque at Shotgun at the Eagle on Wednesday, 2/14. These girls are awesome performers, and while they seem to be doing just a "a cameo," I'd love to spend V-Day watching them shake their booties. Shotgun is a fun event anyway and totally worth turning up for.
Katastrophe at Club Butchin LA at Mr. T's Bowl on Feb. 22 and also at The Echo Feb. 17. Katastrophe rocks. Don't miss it.
Speaking of VDay, there are many, many performances of the Vagina Monologues happening in the near future to raise money to end violence against women and girls. To find one near you, go to www.vday.org. The lovely Darrah du Jour is working on VDay Hollywood on March 23 and they're having a Drag Queen Bingo fundraiser at Hamburger Mary's West Hollywood on Wednesday, Feb. 21.
The Butchlalis will be performing at Highways Feb. 23 and 24. I wish Highways would program more cool butch and genderqueer artists such as the butchlalis and the only way to make that happen is to show up in force, so I'll be there.
Posted by Violet Vixen at 8:29 PM 0 comments
