Poison, Passion, and Petrifaction

I said that there was only one picture from my college days that I would want anyone to see, but on further reflection I repent me of my words, because I've just remembered that I was part of the world's most amazing photo ever: 

That's me, front and center, in the bird's nest wig and the checked suitcoat, playing Adolphus Bastable in a quickly-rehearsed production of George Bernard Shaw's Poison, Passion, and Petrifaction (or, The Fatal Gazogene). The literati may rave about Pygmalion or Major Barbara or other of Shaw's talky opuses, but allow me to recommend to you this one-act which involved attempted murder, angels singing "Bill Bailey", high fashion, and the eventual petrifaction of Adolphus Bastable after eating a quantity of the ceiling trying to ingest enough lime to counteract the poison in the gazogene.

FITZ. Still, if an antidote—

ADOLPHUS. [bounding from the bed] Antidote!

MAGNESIA. [with wild hope] Antidote!

FITZ. If an antidote would not be too much of an anti-climax.

ADOLPHUS. Anti-climax be blowed! Do you think I am going to die to please the critics? Out with your antidote. Quick!

FITZ. The best antidote to the poison I have given you is lime, plenty of lime.

ADOLPHUS. Lime! You mock me! Do you think I carry lime about in my pockets?

FITZ. There is the plaster ceiling.

MAGNESIA. Yes, the ceiling. Saved, saved, saved!

All three frantically shy boots at the ceiling. Flakes of plaster rain down which Adolphus devours, at first ravenously, then with a marked falling off in relish.

MAGNESIA. [picking up a huge slice] Take this, Adolphus: it is the largest. [she crams it into his mouth.]

FITZ. Ha! a lump off the cornice! Try this.

ADOLPHUS. [desperately] Stop! stop!

MAGNESIA. Do not stop. You will die. [She tries to stuff him again.]

ADOLPHUS [resolutely] I prefer death.

MAGNESIA and FITZ. [throwing themselves on their knees on either side of him] For our sakes, Adolphus, persevere.

ADOLPHUS. No: unless you can supply lime in liquid form, I must perish. Finish that ceiling I cannot and will not.

MAGNESIA. I have a thought—an inspiration. My bust [She snatches it from its pedestal and brings it to him.]

ADOLPHUS [gazing fondly at it] Can I resist it?

I don't remember what we used as a stand-in for the plaster ceiling; I think it was rice cakes.

You can read the text here.

Today in Cinema

Over at Korrectiv, Matthew Lickona and his brother Mark have been bringing the drama. Literally. The guys have been restaging a few scenes from the movies, putting their own touches on characterization and motivation, and they've done an impressive job on a shoestring. And who knew Matthew had such a dreamy baritone?

Check out their Untouchables, 1984, and a classic monologue from Pulp Fiction.

Total Rewrite

I opted out of the theatrical world when I was four months pregnant with my oldest. I was a stage manager then, falling asleep on the 101 while driving home at midnight from gigs, which just didn't seem compatible with raising a child or being pregnant or staying alive. I keep my hand in now and then by doing the stuff that pays so little that no one else wants to take it on: directing a Christmas pageant or teaching acting to teens or writing scripts for short adaptations of the classics. The thrill of the production is lots of fun; I'll never forget the time last summer when my lead actress hurt her foot in the last rehearsal the day of the show and I thought I was going to have to go on, seven months pregnant, and play Peter Pan.

I miss it, and so it's fun to live vicariously through other members of my family. My sister and my cousin are opera singers. Several of my cousins have gone into theater-related careers. And then there's Cousin Jeff.

You remember Cousin Jeff. Greg Belmont, Emo Vampire Hunter? Yeah. He's got a new indie short out called Total Rewrite, about an actor who goes crazy and finds that his romantic comedy role has turned into an action fest. Jeff, as always, is the one with the hair.



Warning: got some language.