fecking fantastic!

Went to the opening of Lieutenant of Inishmore at the Alley last night, a gory dark comedy that was written a decade ago by one of my favorite playwrights, Martin McDonagh. The show was fantastic and exists in complete contradiction to the shite that is on the big stage (a “play” about Janis Joplin that is really just a tribute show pretending to be theatre). Parts of last night’s play really made me uncomfortable, as they were meant to do, and it was refreshing to sit there squirming. McDonagh and I share a certain aesthetic – though he is certainly better at it than I am – taking fucked up situations and imbuing them with pedestrian dialogue. Because when the shit goes down, we don’t suddenly turn into poets and deep thinkers. We are who we are, regardless of the absurdity of the situation. Even in the midst of utter conflict, we still have a hard time not following our standard scripts.

That was what I tried to show with The Things That Bind in my recent production. A couple wakes up to find themselves handcuffed to the bed, and rather than focus on what needs to happen to get them out of that situation, they instead fight about bullshit that doesn’t matter, never dealing with the bigger situation that needs their attention. (And there’s a secondary thing going on with that piece that I’d rather not disclose because it’s best if the audience is surprised. Suffice it to say, it’s about the universality of relationships.) Anyway, I haven’t seen theatre that excited me in some time. It’s such a great feeling. I’m going to see the show again.

Should find out about the commission in two days. I’ll be glad to know one way or the other so I can move on to obsessing about other things. Like whether or not I locked the door and if my parking brake is set…

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