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Showing posts with label review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label review. Show all posts

Friday, 28 February 2014

red...

Albert Molina and Eddie Redmayne as abstract expressionist painter Mark Rothko and his assistant, Ken.
2010 Broadway production of John Logan's play, Red.



















Red: A New Play by John Logan

Okay, I think we can all agree that the Peace Country is off-off-OFF-Broadway. Which means most of us won’t get the opportunity to see John Logan’s play Red, a drama about abstract expressionist painter Mark Rothko any time soon. Happily, we can read the script of the play. Even more happily, we can see clips of the Broadway production on youtube.

If I could, I would go see this play ten evenings in a row just to watch the scene in which Rothko and his young assistant, Ken, together prime a large canvas in a deep maroon; the older man covering the top of the canvas, the younger the bottom. The sheer physicality of painting is rendered as a dance, as a struggle. Both men emerge from it covered with red paint. They look like they’ve just come newborn into the world, or from a battlefield.

Red depicts Rothko at the height of his success but staring down the spectre of his own irrelevance. He is in love with, and at the same time tortured by his own ideas. Even as he creates the canvases that are arguably the culmination of his life’s work -- all in pulsating, throbbing, swelling, breathing reds -- he contemplates his own end.

This is clearly a dark work. It’s also a seriously intelligent work. It presumes the audience has a good general knowledge of art history from Michelangelo through to Warhol. But, at the same time it reminds us that painting isn’t just a cognitive activity; it is something to be grappled with bodily. It is hand-to-hand combat. It is, and always has been, a struggle to the end.



This article was first published in Art of the Peace magazine, Issue #15, Fall 2010. See it in its original context here.







Tuesday, 9 July 2013

tragedy worn lightly....

Photo by Ariel Tarpey.


The other night I took my 14-year-old daughter to see Hamlet at Vancouver's Bard on the Beach Shakespeare Festival. On our way there, I gave her a quick verbal plot summary. "Oh, like The Lion King?" she asked. Yes. Very much so.

I saw my first Hamlet when I was 12, with my mom and the girl who was then and remains to this day my best friend. It was a contemporary rock musical version of the play, then called Kronborg: 1582. (Later called Rockabye Hamlet.) It was campy, and larger than life, and what I remember most clearly about it is the set, and the scene in which Ophelia went mad. "A flower for you, a flower for you...."

It was young and contemporary and fun; and happily, so is this summer's version of Hamlet in Vancouver. Although spoken in the original Elizabethan English, the sets, props, costumes and technologies are up-to-the-minute. And it works. The energy, the physicality, and the passion of the acting carry the considerable weight of this aged tragedy hurtling into the now, and wear it lightly. 

Jonathon Young is brilliant as Hamlet, but sometimes it is Naomi Wright who really owns the stage. In the role of a servant she generates real tears for the dead Ophelia, wiping her reddened and running nose. 

I wonder what my girl will remember of this Hamlet, when she takes her children to their first version of it?

Scenes from the 2013 production of Hamlet,
by Vancouver's Bard on the Beach Shakespeare Festival.