Today is the feast day of Saints Crispin and Crispinian. I am not a religious man, but I like this day for a few reasons.
First, I like the names very much. I especially love to say them with extra ssssssibilance. It's a gay thang.
And they are the patron saints of cobblers, something I always wanted to be...a cobbler, not a patron saint.
I also like the connection the day has with the Battle of Agincourt, which took place on 25 October, 1415. The Agincourt Carol is one of my favorite pieces of historical music.
The Agincourt Carol, performed by Telynor
And then there's the remarkable St. Crispin's Day Speech from Shakespeare's Henry V.
A friend recently posted to Facebook an article from The Guardian that reports how Imogen Stubbs and Edward Kemp of the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London find themselves incredibly aggrieved at the mumbling of the current breed of actors trying to study the art and ply their craft. It is a read that is at once infuriating, the intensity of which is mitigated by a couple of interesting points relating the demise of grammar studies in modern education practices to this dreaded mumbling phenomenon. I have to admit I am appalled at the number of Australians I have met who do not know what a noun is. A gerund I could understand. But a NOUN? And most of these people have been people of certain prominence, for example, a university lecturer in Law.
I encourage you to read the Guardian article (hyperlink above), but here's a quote from the article:
[Imogen]
Stubbs, who has appeared in scores of stage roles, including the part
of Sally Bowles in Cabaret and Desdemona in Othello as well as film and
television dramas, added that muttering – with its lack of variety and
tonal interest – was perhaps a misguided attempt to imitate American
film stars. 'It was so drummed into us at drama school that 'it's
unforgiveable not to be clear and heard'," she said.
First of all, I am offended by the blame placed upon American film stars.
Second
of all, bullsh!t! May I remind Ms Stubbs and all others who feel the
way she describes so condescendingly, that the American film stars from
the early part of the 20th century all the way through the time of, say,
Katherine Hepburn and later, had impeccable diction. Yes, it is
different from much of what we hear today, but it not the fault of
American actors. It is highly unfair of Stubbs to claim this, and it is
mean.
In a more covert style of blame-shifting, Stubbs later cites the direction by
Baz Luhrmann that led his actors to ignore punctuation as another cause
for alarm. She is not being mean and spiteful here, at least not as
callously as she lambasted her generalized notion of American actors.
She's finding exception to the fact that Luhrmann may have chosen to
engender in his cast the delivery of dialog that fell on her flat ears.
My assumption is that Luhrmann was employing his directorial assets,
like them or not, to portray a concept. I am not a fan of Luhrmann, but I
try to respect his choices as an artist.
I went to seeJersey Boys last night. There wasn't much about the show I didn't enjoy. [Sidebar: I will always equate the 1960s and early 70s with my uneasy childhood, knowing I was different and largely unaccepted by my family, but not really understanding why. This makes anything that references the time period, like Jersey Boys does, an uncomfortable experience for me. But that's beside the point. From a theoretical and entertainment perspective, the show is good in just about every way. Rock solid.]
Judging from comments I overheard in the lobby during intermission and afterward, I am not alone in misremembering just how many hits The 4 Seasons (and Frankie Valli as a solo artist) have in their repertoire list. You can't really say their music is timeless, because assuming you were alive at the time, there's little way you can hear it and not flash back to what you were doing, where you were living during the two decades when these guys were at the height of their career. But what you can say is that the songs were well written (mostly by Bob Gaudio, who also sang with the group for a number of years), the vocals tight, the men handsome, the production (by Bob Crewe) superb...and the style. Oh, the style! All of that is translated into the musical beautifully. It's great stuff.
Through the years, there have been many, many covers of their songs, performed by artists from Andy Williams, The Pet Shop Boys, Clay Aiken to Lauryn Hill. And the royalties keep rollin' in!
Speaking of covers of their songs, here's one you may not know. Have a good weekend everyone!
First off, Bonnee is feeling much better and has stopped hacking away at her chin and neck. Poor thing is still on Prednisone for another week to control the itching caused by the allergic dermatitis (the 3rd possible diagnosis, and seemingly the correct one this time), but she has finished her course of antibiotics and is now readily chowing down on her new, over-the-top-expensive kibble. And she's actually playing again. Getting back to her wonderful old self, thankfully, as this little video shows.
In another escapade, this one not involving our creamy Scottish Fold, many of us went to see
the new Harry Potter film at the IMAX cinema last night. In a word, wow. The 20 minutes of 3D were a nice balm to soothe the sting of the ticket prices. Seriously, despite the occasional corniness (after all, it is a Harry Potter movie) and the "chaste kiss" that has enjoyed celebrity gossip status even in undeveloped countries, this was a treat to watch. If you have a chance to see it in IMAX glory, I'd certainly encourage you to. Otherwise, find the biggest screen around, hunker down, and enjoy.
By the way, y'all know Daniel Radcliffe recently starred in a London revival of Peter Shaffer's Equus, right?
Tonight Mark and I are joining many Convicts for a production of Christopher Shinn's Dying City, presented by Gaiety Theatre. Tonight's performance is, in part, a fundraiser to help finance the Convicts' trip to Dublin next year for the Bingham Cup competition. From what I understand, a few of the players are presenting a short sketch before the play. That will be fun, to be sure, but I am also looking forward to the play. It has received very fine reviews during its London, New York, and Sydney runs.
Finally, please remind me to stay out of rural Western Australia. I found this image while blogtrekking. Apparently, the folks running the Royal Mail Hotel in Meekatharra find it funny to refer to those who drink Bacardi Breezers in a derogatory way. Funny, most of the fellow light-steppers I hang out with drink beer.
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