Good news about my mom's suitcase. We got it back! But then this morning, they locked themselves out of their flat. Out of the frying pan...
Macaroni on a Hotdog was a lot of fun today, we had a good crowd and several good laughers. There was a baby in the audience, and the mom took him out to the lobby a few minutes before the end of the show, because he was making some noise. I found out after our show, that the baby wasn't crying, but he thought I was talking to him, from the stage, and he was smiling and trying to answer. Being only 6 months old, he wasn't able to articulate his thoughts, but he was a charming baby and I didn't mind his comments. (whatever they were).
I went to a 3 P.M. soiree at the G&V hotel, for Scottish playwrights. I know what you're thinking, but I was invited, I did not crash their party. It was the perfect opportunity to wear my posh pants (from Walker Slater). Glenn got a haircut and I got cleaned up and dressed up in my new pants and we strolled up to the hotel, feeling like the glitterati.
I was excited to be included, but I forgot one important thing. Big crowds of strangers make me slightly nervous, and darn it.... why did I forget that a party like that really isn't my cup of tea? It's a very nice hotel though, and we looked like we belonged.
We met some nice people. One man we met has been writing television for 20 years, but has plans to return to his roots in the theatre. Then waiters started circulating with trays of hors devoures. I had eaten the tiny tomato with cheese in the middle, and then I spied a tray of toasty warm polenta with a swirl of soft cheese on the top. I took one of those and recognized Jeremiah, from Poorboy Theatre. Waving in that moment might not have been the best choice, since the heat of the toasty polenta made the cheese on top melt, and it slid off and landed with a plop on the fancy floor of the G&V mezzanine level party area, with all kinds of successful playwrights nearby. Awkward.
God bless all actors everywhere, but especially Jeremiah, who (like most actors) has food service industry experience, and he and erased my faux pas immediately, with a black napkin from a table. I will like him forever for that kindness. There were some speeches made, and it's obvious that Scotland has an amazing Playwrights Center with an incredible support system for their writers. Lucky sons of Scots.
We still don't know who pulled the fire alarm, but I swear it was not me. All of the guests at the party had to exit onto the street and the fire engines raced up, but there was no fire. Glenn took my photo in front of the fire engine though, and we were ready to go. Not so fast. Two really nice ladies from Glasgow, had noticed Glenn taking my photo upstairs in the hotel, at the playwrights party. (I had posed next to strangers, pretending to laugh with them, so it would look like I was part of their group.) Hey, we wanted scrapbook photos, and they look really authentic! (well done Glenn) These ladies assumed I was trying to take my photo with the famous Scottish actress that was in that group I had posed with, so outside on the street, they brought this nice actress over to meet me and said I could take a proper photo with her.
They were so lovely, we took several photos and they filled us in on the differences between Edinburgh and Glasgow. For example, if you have a string bag of oranges that breaks in Edinburgh, you'll be picking up the oranges yourself. But in Glasgow, strangers will pick up your oranges for you. Now you know.
A play we saw, that was supposed to be serious, (it was supposed to be spooky and atmospheric), borrowed a plot point from the Paul Ruben's classic, Pee Wee's Big Adventure. At a pivotal point, in the semi-darkness, Glenn and I turned to each other and mouthed the words Large Marge, and tried not to laugh.
There's a lot of new writing and young theatre companies here. Many of them at the Edinburgh Fringe for the first time and there's a learning curve, you discover what works and what doesn't. For example, if you're doing a 50 minute version of a Shakespeare play, best not to race through the dialogue instead of making cuts to the text. Additionally, shouting Shakespearean dialogue for extended periods of time, doesn't necessarily make it comprehensible, it just makes it loud.
As long as I'm on a rant. For corn's sake, please don't show me 40 minutes of gratuitous lap dancing, and then try and redeem your play with some misguided crap at the end about how powerful and great women are. You've just spent most of your time showing me relentless objectifying scenes, how can it possibly be logical that a few words can make up for that? Nope. Not buying it. Neither was anyone else, judging by the empty seats in the theatre.
Enough with the dross. Let's talk about what's wonderful. A one man production of Ozymandias was wonderful. That play was surprising and there were quite a few unexpected turns. We also liked The Black Hoods Cabaret, a macabre puppet show where many of the puppets were constructed from old cardboard boxes. All of these plays are closed now, they had shorter runs, so I won't mention their venues and times.
However I went to a Japanese drum group tonight, called Messages from Japan/Supercussion that will be here until the 29th of August and they are fabulous. (venue 43) theSpace at Symposium Hall, and they are at 6:20 P.M.. It's a rhythm and beat percussive experience. Some of the drums are as big as a hot tub, and the energy and precision of the drummers is really impressive. The drum sounds resonates right through you. I purchased the CD they sold afterwards because I'd never heard anything like it.