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I got a returned ticket for King Lear with Ian McKellen on Saturday! It is my reward for ringing them up, I feel. It would be my reward for giving a paper, but as I have not yet finished writing it, that might be a bit previous.
Lear! McKellen! I have seen one production before. It was at Tolethorpe Hall, and the highlight was when an audience member sneezed during the most moving speech. This was also before I had read the play, and my sister was annoyed because I told her there was a specific line in it that she was waiting for the whole way through, but it turned out I'd got that wrong. Tolethorpe is a bit wobbly a lot of the time. I've seen a really good Midsummer Night's Dream there, but King Lear was dismal. And not in the way it's kind of meant to be, either.
Must finish paper and do slides for it. Huh. I have been very good (though not if you judge goodness by actually doing any work) and not started the slides until it's finished, because I know I would just spend all my time messing around with background colour and turn up hoping desperately that the audience would be mesmerised by all the special effects and not notice that I hadn't said anything.
I watched Arabella Weir's Tough Gig last night, and was rather annoyed by it. She said that she hadn't done stand-up before, and it seems a very odd decision to have the only woman in the series not be an established comedian (as distinct from comedy actor). She wasn't terribly good either. Her crowd were paranormal people, and throughout the "before" bit where she spent time with them to get material she seemed really sneery, and making jokes at their expense completely, rather than finding out why they were interested in the subject, and what their experiences were. Her gig was more of the same, with the addition of a really stupid comment about the men in the group only being there because the women had big tits. Nice.
I didn't watch Three Fat Brides, One Dress or whatever that dreadful sounding thing is that Gillian McKeith was doing last night. I almost did, because it seems so, so awful. We in this house have been watching a lot of television recently designed to make us better women. Anthea Turner's Perfect Housewife, Trinny and Susannah Undress, and a weird thing about home decoration where they found a couple wanting to redecorate a perfectly serviceable living room, made two mock-ups and got them to design their perfect living room. Which they both duly did, without any thought about what the other might like. The man had a huge flatscreen TV mounted to the wall (and very little else), while the woman had a tiny TV housed in a cupboard, which you couldn't see from the sofa. And then she had her piano in there, and it hadn't seemingly occured to him that she might want that. Oh, bad. Mostly what we learned is that we are not good women.
But! The other day I was watching Trisha (while waiting for Orlando to be on Ellen), and they were doing a make-over of a woman whose daughter complained that she was too frumpy. The mother came out looking uber-swish, and the daughter cried in happiness that she was no longer to be subjected to a less-than-beautiful relative. The mother was a little nervous still, and said "I don't look like Lynn Scully?" and the daughter said "No mum, you look like Susan Kennedy!" Which is, I think you'll have to admit, the nicest thing anyone could ever say to another human being.
Lear! McKellen! I have seen one production before. It was at Tolethorpe Hall, and the highlight was when an audience member sneezed during the most moving speech. This was also before I had read the play, and my sister was annoyed because I told her there was a specific line in it that she was waiting for the whole way through, but it turned out I'd got that wrong. Tolethorpe is a bit wobbly a lot of the time. I've seen a really good Midsummer Night's Dream there, but King Lear was dismal. And not in the way it's kind of meant to be, either.
Must finish paper and do slides for it. Huh. I have been very good (though not if you judge goodness by actually doing any work) and not started the slides until it's finished, because I know I would just spend all my time messing around with background colour and turn up hoping desperately that the audience would be mesmerised by all the special effects and not notice that I hadn't said anything.
I watched Arabella Weir's Tough Gig last night, and was rather annoyed by it. She said that she hadn't done stand-up before, and it seems a very odd decision to have the only woman in the series not be an established comedian (as distinct from comedy actor). She wasn't terribly good either. Her crowd were paranormal people, and throughout the "before" bit where she spent time with them to get material she seemed really sneery, and making jokes at their expense completely, rather than finding out why they were interested in the subject, and what their experiences were. Her gig was more of the same, with the addition of a really stupid comment about the men in the group only being there because the women had big tits. Nice.
I didn't watch Three Fat Brides, One Dress or whatever that dreadful sounding thing is that Gillian McKeith was doing last night. I almost did, because it seems so, so awful. We in this house have been watching a lot of television recently designed to make us better women. Anthea Turner's Perfect Housewife, Trinny and Susannah Undress, and a weird thing about home decoration where they found a couple wanting to redecorate a perfectly serviceable living room, made two mock-ups and got them to design their perfect living room. Which they both duly did, without any thought about what the other might like. The man had a huge flatscreen TV mounted to the wall (and very little else), while the woman had a tiny TV housed in a cupboard, which you couldn't see from the sofa. And then she had her piano in there, and it hadn't seemingly occured to him that she might want that. Oh, bad. Mostly what we learned is that we are not good women.
But! The other day I was watching Trisha (while waiting for Orlando to be on Ellen), and they were doing a make-over of a woman whose daughter complained that she was too frumpy. The mother came out looking uber-swish, and the daughter cried in happiness that she was no longer to be subjected to a less-than-beautiful relative. The mother was a little nervous still, and said "I don't look like Lynn Scully?" and the daughter said "No mum, you look like Susan Kennedy!" Which is, I think you'll have to admit, the nicest thing anyone could ever say to another human being.
