FUCK NO. EPIC FAIL.

[tenlittlebullets]

Hey, you know what is a recipe for compete, utter, total shit? An avant-garde staging of A Streetcar Named Desire.

I... really don't want to talk about it. To give you a pretty good idea of what it was like, the final confrontation--the really dramatic one that's supposed to end in an implied rape scene--was delivered in monotone, with Blanche and Stanley standing side by side and her head kind of leaning on his shoulder. And was followed by twenty minutes of the actress who plays Eunice, who cannot sing, singing an interminable pop version of something-or-another that might have some relation to Tancredi, with a random text in Old French projected onto the scenery.

I DON'T EVEN--

toi_marguerite and I went and got drunk afterwards. It was the only logical thing to do. I had to sit through the whole thing, since I have to give an oral presentation on it on Monday. She walked out. I don't think either of us has ever walked out on a piece of theatre before, and there was no graceful way to do it since this sucker was three hours long and had no intermission, but goddamn I envied her.

I'm still kind of tipsy. It took a martini, half a bottle of wine, and a lot of silly conversation about cracky orientalist AUs of Les Mis for us to stop ranting about how Tennessee Williams was spinning in his grave.

Ughhhhh. Avant-garde-fanboy professor can go fuck himself.

Comments

[evewithanapple.livejournal.com]

BWAHAHAHAHA!

Reminds me of the travelling production of Emilia Galotti I saw with my dad. The dialogue was all spoken in nonstop monologue, none of the actors looked at eash other, and the blocking/movement made them look like robots. Except for the henchman character, who wiggled around the stage like an inchworm having a seizure. And the finale, where the main character commits suicide (or is murdered by her father. I don't really remember) to avoid being raped, was done in this weird performance-art style where she wandered around a bunch of people ballroom dancing and then walked offstage. I don't think I've ever hated a play so much.

[nightangelca.livejournal.com]

................I am so so sorry.

[endofthewest.livejournal.com]

The moral of the story is that postmodernism needs to suck a nut. >:( Way to ruin a play whose entire point is interpersonal drama, guys.

[mmebahorel.livejournal.com]

So tell me more about cracky orientalist AUs. Because that's way better than whatever the hell this director was smoking.

[toi-marguerite.livejournal.com]

I was talking about how my mom saw, Taken and thought I was going to be kidnapped and sold on the black market to a Middle Eastern shah- and, since we had decided that in a modern AU, Enjolras and Combeferre would probably be Asian (Enjolras because he is clearly the first bishie ninja and Combeferre because he's your typical overachieving pre-med student), Marianne pointed out that that would be an hilarious letter. "Dear Enjolras, Why didn't you get an internship at Necker like the Combeferre boy? You being a law student is no excuse! Have you been eating enough? Are you wandering around the streets at night? You could be sold into the harem of a Turkish pasha!"

And... then it just went downhill from there. There was some discussion on whether or not Enjolras would be mistaken for a girl or a eunuch instead and, in either case, everyone fawning over him and getting him really bewildered, Courfeyrac immediately going to the women's harem and, uh 'liberating' them all ("I am only following the teachings of Saint-Simon, Combeferre!"), Jehan wandering off at some point to learn Farsi and smoke hashish instead of helping the others, and Enjolras starting some kind of international incident not only by being kidnapped, but by starting a slave revolution that brings the Ottoman Empire to a premature end.

[10littlebullets.livejournal.com]

What toi_marguerite said. And there was vague talk of a Count of Monte Cristo crossover because clearly Haydée has to be involved somehow, but we were too drunk to figure out exactly how that would work.