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Post by theoracle on Oct 22, 2019 11:59:12 GMT
I was at the first preview last night! It was a mad, profound, hilarious and sad evening. Annie Baker asks us a lot of questions and allows us to find our own stories. The quietly explosive text is performed fantastically by the ensemble cast. The intimate space of the Dorfman was used well but it felt quite clearly like a preview. As they’re all sitting around a table a lot, the blocking could have been better in order to allow audiences to see all of of the cast more. It will be interesting to see how critics will react to this as it is really quite a unique piece. The first performance came just under 2hrs despite signs saying it would be 2hrs 10mins. The cast and the writing is brilliant as it all whizzes by and in a way I quite like the fact there is no interval as you are fully immersed throughout the whole show. Definitely would recommend! Thanks for this. Could I please ask regarding seating - do the seats at the side of the stage seem good or obstructed? thanks! There’s a long table which the actors sit around. I wouldn’t call them obstructed but you will be facing backs for a long period of time as they don’t move around much
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Post by londonpostie on Oct 22, 2019 21:31:34 GMT
It's unusual; I have been wondering if Circle level might be the optimum viewing angle for this one ..
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Post by andrew on Oct 23, 2019 18:53:12 GMT
I sat in the centre circle and it was a good place to be, although even there the light fixture obscured some faces when actors stood far upstage.
It's really unfair to talk much about a second preview (and with actors forgetting their lines completely from time to time, there's still some bedding in to be done), but it's good. I'm a big Annie Baker fan so I was predisposed to enjoy myself, but this packs in a lot of the slowly paced, mystical moments she seems to be able to create onstage. The ensemble cast were terrific, and I was pleased to notice both Karen Gillan and Stephen Moffat supporting Arthur Darvill from the audience tonight, along with a very tired looking Oliver Chris. Imogen Doel really managed to steal the show from a part that is physically offstage for the majority of the play. I have negatives which I'll keep to myself given the nascent stage the play is in, but if they manage to drive the running time down slightly I think this'll be another succesful Annie Baker-Dorfman hit.
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Post by Forrest on Oct 24, 2019 15:45:32 GMT
I sat in the centre circle and it was a good place to be, although even there the light fixture obscured some faces when actors stood far upstage. It's really unfair to talk much about a second preview ( and with actors forgetting their lines completely from time to time, there's still some bedding in to be done), but it's good.... I am loving the positive feedback for this on the thread so far! Also, weirdest question... Am I the only person who finds evenings at the theatre where things go slightly wrong (such as actors forgetting their lines) absolutely fantastic, in terms of experience? Two of the times that I went to see Churchill's "Glass. Kill..." things have gone slightly wrong (yes, I sure know how to pick my evenings at the theatre!): on one evening, Tom Mothersdale mixed up his lines twice, both in "Kill" and in "Imp"; during the other, Toby Jones forgot his line (he literally just stood there, uttering an extended "So..." when it was his turn to speak, with a long pause). I'd noticed because I'd already seen the play and also bought the text and read it beforehand, don't think most of the audience did, but watching them think quickly and saving the scenes before it became too obvious ("Kill" was clearly handled by Mothersdale alone, superbly, but in "Imp" him and Jones came to each other's rescue) was absolutely beautiful. I was once seeing a production involving a gun that failed to go off on that particular evening (also a play I'd seen before), and the actress on stage handled it marvellously - even if the play itself wasn't memorable (which, luckily, it was) I would have remembered the evening for that scene alone. I mean, I'm sure if I was the person on stage I would probably absolutely hate these moments (making mistakes in front of a full auditorium probably isn't comfortable), but watching them from the audience just makes me appreciate more the team effort that goes into putting a production together and making sure it appears flawless night after night, and to admire the actors more for handling it so brilliantly. We all make mistakes. (Also, it's a good reminder of why I love revisiting great productions and seeing them grow and change. I'd do it much more often if I could.) Or perhaps it is just me?
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Post by juicy_but_terribly_drab on Oct 24, 2019 16:39:41 GMT
I sat in the centre circle and it was a good place to be, although even there the light fixture obscured some faces when actors stood far upstage. It's really unfair to talk much about a second preview ( and with actors forgetting their lines completely from time to time, there's still some bedding in to be done), but it's good.... I am loving the positive feedback for this on the thread so far! Also, weirdest question... Am I the only person who finds evenings at the theatre where things go slightly wrong (such as actors forgetting their lines) absolutely fantastic, in terms of experience? Two of the times that I went to see Churchill's "Glass. Kill..." things have gone slightly wrong (yes, I sure know how to pick my evenings at the theatre!): on one evening, Tom Mothersdale mixed up his lines twice, both in "Kill" and in "Imp"; during the other, Toby Jones forgot his line (he literally just stood there, uttering an extended "So..." when it was his turn to speak, with a long pause). I'd noticed because I'd already seen the play and also bought the text and read it beforehand, don't think most of the audience did, but watching them think quickly and saving the scenes before it became too obvious ("Kill" was clearly handled by Mothersdale alone, superbly, but in "Imp" him and Jones came to each other's rescue) was absolutely beautiful. I was once seeing a production involving a gun that failed to go off on that particular evening (also a play I'd seen before), and the actress on stage handled it marvellously - even if the play itself wasn't memorable (which, luckily, it was) I would have remembered the evening for that scene alone. I mean, I'm sure if I was the person on stage I would probably absolutely hate these moments (making mistakes in front of a full auditorium probably isn't comfortable), but watching them from the audience just makes me appreciate more the team effort that goes into putting a production together and making sure it appears flawless night after night, and to admire the actors more for handling it so brilliantly. We all make mistakes. (Also, it's a good reminder of why I love revisiting great productions and seeing them grow and change. I'd do it much more often if I could.) Or perhaps it is just me? No I sometimes enjoy when things go wrong as well and you get to see a bit of the actor behind the character. One of the times I saw Follies, Janie Dee messed up a line slightly because it seemed she and Joanna Riding had got themselves in a bit of a laughing fit and it just put me in a similar mood to see them having so much fun and struggle to stop laughing. It helped knowing that I'd seen it and was going to see it again though so that I knew what the show looked like running smoothly. That's one of my biggest regrets with Company. There was a technical error causing a 10 minute show stop which was ultimately not a big deal but did affect the flow and since I loved it so much I wish I had had the time to see it again and see it run flawlessly. I can't think of any plays where an actor has messed up a line though but I've seen very few plays multiple times so maybe I just didn't notice since I had nothing to compare it to.
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Post by callum on Oct 24, 2019 21:24:24 GMT
Had a fabulous time - another Annie Baker play with long awkward silences, allusions to the supernatural, and several moments treading a massive tightrope between black humour and being horrified. From my seat in the circle I could see a lot of the audience: some were in fits of laughter, others fairly shocked, and a handful looking bored out of their minds. A lady in the foyer afterwards said it was ‘completely pathetic’!
Personally - I really enjoyed myself, with a stand-out performance from Conleth Hill (wouldn’t he make an excellent Tr*mp?!), and the two female actors.
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Post by Boob on Oct 24, 2019 21:44:40 GMT
Interesting play, but it needs more preview time and (sorry) a better director. I love Annie Baker’s work, but this didn’t do it for me. It will get better as the cast gets to grips with the material, but this felt twice as long as The Flick to me.
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Post by digne on Oct 25, 2019 11:23:47 GMT
I saw this yesterday and really enjoyed it - I had high hopes after John, which I loved, and I wasn't disappointed. I was a bit worried about the two hours running time, but it never felt long, despite the silences and the way conversations often slowed down.
There was one instance where one actor forgot his lines and I didn't even realize that had happened until a few minutes later, because in that moment it felt completely in character for this man to pick up a bit of outside office conversation and immediately reuse it in his corporate creative nonsense speech.
What most stood out to me was her way of handling the dynamics of the room - it felt at times almost claustrophobic to be a witness to all the microagressions that come with being the only woman in a work environment like that.
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Post by foxa on Oct 25, 2019 11:48:27 GMT
Going tonight, A little nervous after Vassa and Blank but hoping for the best!
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Post by Forrest on Oct 25, 2019 14:45:18 GMT
foxa , looking forward to reading your impressions! I managed to catch the last rush ticket for the press night, so I'm going next week, and am incredibly excited about it!
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Post by andrew on Oct 25, 2019 15:16:03 GMT
Going tonight, A little nervous after Vassa and Blank but hoping for the best! Oh my god it's a thousand times better than Vassa, fear not..
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Post by foxa on Oct 25, 2019 22:02:43 GMT
Will write more, but I did like it. In fact, I liked the first hour immensely, but then thought it lost its mojo a bit.
However, the most newsworthy thing is that for the first time ever I heard someone actually shout 'Is there a doctor in the house.' Hadley Fraser launched into a speech and then saw something in the audience. He said 'we have to stop the show' and the stage manager ran out. The house lights came up and there was some agitation SR Pit. Anyway the call for a doctor went out, two ran forward and a man, after a short delay, was helped out. A guy near us said he thought someone else had taken ill upstairs as well and there was at least one leaver. So a bit eventful.
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Post by crowblack on Oct 26, 2019 19:37:13 GMT
Hope your patient was ok! Typing on a tiny screen so more later but on the sightlines thing, I was in a front row stalls seat flagged up as restricted and it really was - but given the way it is staged I’d have thought most stalks may have similar issues. Where I was I had a good view of the faces of 4 of the cast but the rest were hidden most of the time. The stage is low but maybe even lower would be better. If you’re going because you’re a fan of a particular actor you might find yourself looking at their back most of the time - I barely saw Conleth hill from my seat though as I said it was labelled restricted.
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Post by foxa on Oct 26, 2019 20:18:41 GMT
The stricken audience member looked very poorly at one point, but then was able to stand up and take a swig of water and walk out - so hope he's okay.
Sightlines - we were in the slightly raised side pit area, Row L - nearer the central pit rather than at the far end of the stage (The American couple next to us said - 'we're not looking at the stage' and I saw their point in that if they didn't turn their heads they were just looking at the audience.) But they weren't actually bad seats at all. The actor we had the least good view of in the beginning was Sinead Matthew, but she was skillful at moving around so it wasn't a big problem and Conleth Hill did sometimes get stuck behind someone. I loved Matthew's character.
I was fascinated by the opening when they begin telling their stories. From where we were sitting I could see Fiasyo Akinade and Hadley Fraser's reactions the best and they were both fantastic.
Baker's dialogue is superb - sometimes so light, well-observed, empathetic, funny. The way she explores the power politics of the writers' room with its rules, egos and desire to please is superb. For the first hour, I thought, 'This may be the favourite of all her plays' but it lacked the warmth and the deepening of relationships, particularly of The Flick. But I love her work - I think I need to buy the playscript - how does she do it?
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Post by peggs on Oct 26, 2019 21:15:32 GMT
Bit bemused. New to Annie Baker's work and perhaps should have taken rather more seriously the what to expect video where they said if you were new to her work you should be prepared for weird I think it was. Prior to it's starting I was mostly perplexed but how to pronounce it, not solved when I swear the announcer said the doors were now open for antibodies. Was quite absorbed first hour and bit, felt it had got bit lost by the end and slowed down. Now I don't know if I just looked away at the wrong moments but couldn't work out where some things had physically come from. For such a quiet play you'd have thought the audience could have stopped dropping or knocking things over. Will watch this thread and see if I can be enlightened a bit.
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Post by londonpostie on Oct 27, 2019 7:49:13 GMT
Didn't happen for me. I hate to say this but I experienced it as a middle class writer struggling for a decent idea, who isn't prepared to go into the world to find them. Imo, stories worth telling aren't found around writing rooms, they are in soulless Amazon warehouses, in 5am cleaning jobs, in 1am hotel work, in taxicabs - a thousand places that aren't rooms filled with bottled water. 'Grotesque' grows from 'new normal'.
Maybe she knows that, maybe there is more humour - even parody; the chicken story and the 'cancelled' Danny suggested more dimension, but if it did it was left hanging and wasn't explored.
Found it mono - monotone, monotonous. And the little trips on wheels, the disembodiment virtual reality segment, the seat choreography didn't paper over that.
These are desperate times, the USA more than most, and there are a million important, vital stories to be told. Want 'grotesque'? Go and write about the families, the kids separated from their parents at the US border - tell those human stories FFS. Opioids, the tent cites outside every US town.
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Post by andrew on Oct 27, 2019 9:23:14 GMT
Now I don't know if I just looked away at the wrong moments but couldn't work out where some things had physically come from. For such a quiet play you'd have thought the audience could have stopped dropping or knocking things over. There's an inverse relationship between the quietness of a play and the quietness of an audience I think... I think one of the things the play messes around with a bit is the sense of time... inside this windowless soulless boardroom it's a bit unclear what the passage of time is until characters specifically reference it. We jump at random points forward in time, sometimes that's really obvious from the way everyone moves and a subtle lighting cue, sometimes I think it happens much less obviously. It would be interesting to look at the script and see where the actual scene changes are. One thing I'd like someone to check because it just seemed so obvious after I walked out, and I really don't think this is a spoiler - did the jumper that was being knitted appear later on atop the character who knitted it? If it did then it slipped me by, a friend asked about that and I hadn't noticed. The receptionists wardrobe was another element of this, the characters in the room are stuck there but it's clear outside the building life is going on without them. If you want the stagecraft ruined, {Spoiler - click to view} they pull things out of some bags that are under the desk, and they also pull things from compartments underneath the chairs they sit on.
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Post by samuelwhiskers on Oct 27, 2019 9:55:46 GMT
Yes, towards the end Eleanor retrieves the completed knitted jumper from inside the pile of boxes and puts it on.
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Post by crowblack on Oct 27, 2019 10:56:00 GMT
Yes, towards the end Eleanor retrieves the completed knitted jumper from inside the pile of boxes and puts it on. I heard laughter but the sightlines were so poor I didn't see why (I'd forgotten about the presence on stage of one character until he stood up to perform a bit of business towards the end!) I think I need to buy the playscript I did buy the playtext afterwards, because I generally do for everything I see, and there were some speeches I liked, but that’s also part of my problem wih this: it felt like a rag bag of ideas loosely corralled together with the very theatrically unsatisfying device of a roundtable pitch meeting. Only, with real pitch discussions (I’ve been to a few) you get a sense of the humanity behind the speakers: here, we got very little, some great actors rather wasted in thin parts that, given the staging, might as well have been a radio play for most of its length. For a play about stories it lacked any kind of overarching one, or even individual ones within it. A weather event is chucked in at the end, but I didn’t ‘feel’ it (as a child we lived through one of the most catastrophic hurricanes of the 20thc – the best representation of the exprience I’ve seen on screen is Key Largo, based on a play, and the situation lends itself perfectly to the enclosed space of a theatre). Another character describes a double suicide. And? Did it illuminate him in any way? Did you even remember it? Was Baker’s point to make it feel utterly mundane and forgettable? Ditto the exploding cock. It’s memorable as an image, like something from a teen gross-out movie, but in what way does it serve the play? I’m thinking of the vomiting story in Stand by Me – that’s gleefully gross but has a subversive point. There are other bits of character business – the farty egg - but these are the sort of things a good sitcom does many times an episode. During the creation myth story at the end – one of the bits I liked – I was reminded of a transporting description in Deathwatch and thinking how Genet, in a very underrated play, has three characters trapped in a space who continually invent/reinvent and vindictively demolish their own and each other’s backstories, a play were truth is slippery, where the characters are utterly invested in weaving stories, because your stories give you reputation, status, your stories can get you guillotined or killed. Here, stories were pitched and - what? Maybe this also suffered for me for coming so soon after Glass KiIll Bluebeard Imp and the fairytale-like Wolfie, my favourite show of the year: both explored similar territory but in ways which were theatrically thrilling and left you buzzing afterwards. This had its moments but they didn't add up to a whole.
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Post by Steve on Oct 27, 2019 18:46:41 GMT
the most newsworthy thing is that for the first time ever I heard someone actually shout 'Is there a doctor in the house.' Hadley Fraser launched into a speech and then saw something in the audience. He said 'we have to stop the show' and the stage manager ran out. The house lights came up and there was some agitation SR Pit. Anyway the call for a doctor went out, two ran forward and a man, after a short delay, was helped out. A guy near us said he thought someone else had taken ill upstairs as well and there was at least one leaver. So a bit eventful. Annie Baker's plays are as much ABOUT storytelling, as they ARE storytelling, so in the spirit of Annie Baker, I'll continue your story. I was there Friday night, and the two who answered the stage manager's call were not doctors, but dentists. I was sitting next to them, and they told me that they initially hesitated to get up because they're not "doctors," but since they had relevant training, compassion demanded they help. The patient had fallen unconscious, with his eyes open, but recovered quickly, and was able to walk out on his own two feet, so the dentists felt he'd be fine. A Doctor acquaintance did in fact also leap to his feet to help, but he was seated much further away, so by the time he got to the stage manager, everything was already in hand. He too felt the patient would likely be fine given the speed of recovery. Anyway, I absolutely loved this play about storytelling, but I suspect it will never be as appealing to a large audience as "Circle Mirror Transformation" or "The Flick," or even "The Aliens, for genre reasons. Spoilers follow. . . (Since I really love Annie Baker's work, I'll frame my discussion of this work in context with some of Baker's other works. Don't read on if you don't want to hear anything about those works). . . Though Annie Baker eschews genre, and generally focuses on conversations and characters, sets and silences, over plot, her most appealing plays have had a buddy formula hidden inside them, a suggestion that community elevates human beings. With "John" and now this play, Baker ditches the buddy formula, and thus ditches the most feel-good aspect of her work. With the proviso that I know nothing about her first play, which hasn't been staged here, nor do I know anything about "Nocturama," which she hasn't allowed anyone to stage, I will suggest that 3 rules hold for the five Baker plays that have been staged here: (1) They are about storytelling; (2) The Set for each evokes Storytelling, being a Place of Stories; (3) They are naturalistic reworkings of Beckett's "Waiting for Godot." In "The Aliens," the Set is a JK Rowling style coffee shop (the kind of place she wrote Harry Potter), where an unsuccessful writer and unsuccessful songwriter inspire a young workaholic with their stories about creating stories: their community makes for a warm play; In "Circle Mirror Transformation," the Set is an Amateur Dramatics Class, in which the characters learn about each other, by acting out and telling, the stories of other classmates: not only do we feel the warmth of the class growing, through stories and communing, but also Baker sneaks in a romance, so we get a double whammy of warmth from both the buddy genre AND the romance genre; In "The Flick," the Set is a Cinema, where after the movie audience devour movie stories, ushers commune and tell more stories, about the stories they have seen on screen, as well as stories about themselves: here we get warmth-injections from a buddy genre bromance, two competing romances, AND the romantic comedy genre as well. My point is that in these 3 plays, Annie Baker transposes the lonely figures, of Vladimir and Estragon, in "Waiting for Godot" into more real, more recognisable, characters and worlds, and then adds liberal doses of genre-feel-good which makes audiences and critics enjoy themselves, and disposed to rate the plays more highly. I myself rated "Circle Mirror Transformation" and "The Flick" 5 stars, because I was delighted by the warmth of community and genre-plotting, which washed away the taste of the underlying Beckettian loneliness and futility. Baker's warmth can be seen as an amplification of the more muted warmth, of community, that Vladimir and Estragon feel for each other, their bulwark against the void. By contrast to the above three works, I feel "John" and "The Antipodes" ditch the warmth, which is the reason I find them harder to warm to. In "John," the Set is a Motel filled with ghostly stories, of Gettysburg, and much besides. It is owned by a storytelling gossip, who seems to control the storytelling of the play, manipulating space and time by opening stage curtains and winding clocks, and her strange friend, so powerful in the realm of this story that she can even interrupt the audience's interval to spin us a story. The protagonists seek solace through telling each other stories, even as stories all around them consume them. The only genre warmth Baker offers us in this cold world is the bond between the Motel owner and her mysterious friend. For this reason, I didn't immediately like "John" as much as Baker's previous plays. In "The Antipodies," the Set is an actual Writer's Room, the most related to storytelling of all her Sets. We still get Baker mainstays such as characters discussing storytelling, and telling each other stories about themselves, but it feels the most awful it has ever felt in all her plays, because it's not fun any more: it's work, it's oppressive and it's exhausting. This feels like Annie Baker having a Francis Fukuyama moment: announcing not so much the end of History but the end of storytelling. It's deeper than that, though, as Baker does not suggest that storytelling is useless, rather that the process of storytelling we are witnessing in this Writer's Room is useless. Baker herself alludes to many riveting stories occurring OUTSIDE the room: from what's going on with the weather, to what's going on at Sandy's house, to what amazing store does Imogen Doel buy her outfits from? - and we are desperate for these stories, but frustrated by their elusiveness. And when stories get interesting INSIDE the room, for example, when Stuart McQuarrie's Danny 2 tells us about an experience with a chicken - and McQuarrie's acting is so brilliantly layered that he makes us not only believe in Danny 2's visceral memories and emotions regarding the chicken, but also believe in the emotions Danny 2 feels about about telling the story about the chicken to an audience - credit is not given by the writer's room: good storytelling is not rewarded. So if Baker is having a Fukuyama moment, it is about the diminished value of storytelling as entertainment created in writer's rooms, not the intrinsic value of stories, which the writer's room ignores. In "Waiting for Godot" terms, writer's room boss, Sandy, and his all powerful boss, Max (a disembodied voice speaking like God(ot) from the ceiling) are less like Vladimir or Estragon, more like the bullying Pozzo, and the writers' room denizens are their hapless servants, like Lucky is to Pozzo. In Beckett's play, Pozzo demanded that Lucky "dance" and "think" to entertain him and his friends, and here, Max and sandy demand their servants think and write: and in both cases, the result is unilluminating, because the process is flawed. Anyway, I did have a Billington moment, when I watched this play, when I wished Baker would write about something else that I would prefer she write about, namely how powerful storytelling is, and how easily abused, given that we exist in a world of fake news, a world where Machiavellian storytelling maestros, like Dominic Cummings, can tell the most powerful and most emotive stories, stories that have the power to change all our worlds. I resented her for denigrating storytelling itself by focusing so narrowly on exhausted writers in a writer's room. But then I realised, it's not for me to tell her what story to write, and the story she did write has not let me go since Friday. The story Baker seems to actually want to tell feels Bunuelian, where, like in "The Exterminating Angel" or "the Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie," the writers' roles trap their thoughts to such a degree that they feel imprisoned. It's fascinating. In addition to McQuarrie, who is phenomenal, I loved Hadley Fraser for channeling the essence of a normal everyday Joe, someone everyone will feel is utterly reasonable, such that he becomes an avatar for the audience; I loved Conleth Hill's Showrunner, the perfect Beckettian Pozzo, obsessed with his own story, ignorant of others bar their use to him, and I loved Fisayo Akinade's immense story, a version of the Greatest Story Ever Told! That said, everyone was good in this. All in all, 4 and a half stars, cos this work is immense, but I still wish Annie Baker would write what I want her to write, and I also wish she'd throw in some genre comfort food to make me feel good, like she used to, lol!
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Post by peggs on Oct 27, 2019 20:34:27 GMT
Steve wow! Now that's given me something to think about and a little insight (plus shown I actually have seen a previous Baker play), thank you.
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Post by crowblack on Oct 27, 2019 23:35:12 GMT
So if Baker is having a Fukuyama moment, it is about the diminished value of storytelling as entertainment created in writer's rooms, not the intrinsic value of stories, which the writer's room ignores. Interesting post Steve. Maybe that's part of my issue with it: if that's her thesis, despair or mojo-loss or anhedonia or whatever it was that was going on here, it just doesn't chime with me.
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Post by crowblack on Oct 28, 2019 0:17:40 GMT
There's some more preview feedback in the comments under the Annie Baker Guardian interview btw.
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Post by RedRose on Oct 28, 2019 8:19:13 GMT
Didn't happen for me. I hate to say this but I experienced it as a middle class writer struggling for a decent idea, who isn't prepared to go into the world to find them. Imo, stories worth telling aren't found around writing rooms, they are in soulless Amazon warehouses, in 5am cleaning jobs, in 1am hotel work, in taxicabs - a thousand places that aren't rooms filled with bottled water. 'Grotesque' grows from 'new normal'. Maybe she knows that, maybe there is more humour - even parody; the chicken story and the 'cancelled' Danny suggested more dimension, but if it did it was left hanging and wasn't explored. Found it mono - monotone, monotonous. And the little trips on wheels, the disembodiment virtual reality segment, the seat choreography didn't paper over that. These are desperate times, the USA more than most, and there are a million important, vital stories to be told. Want 'grotesque'? Go and write about the families, the kids separated from their parents at the US border - tell those human stories FFS. Opioids, the tent cites outside every US town. I must agree. Although: the whole scenario was a bit like being in my office. A lot of ideas, but nothing really done with it and in the end the a lot of time wasted. Frustrating. But maybe that is the point of it? What a fabulous ensemble cast, but there talent is wasted in this. And as the staging is very bad - restricted view from most of the seats, you cannot even really enjoy watching them. I was also in on Friday and a lot of people were falling asleep and my friend even witnessed some snoring. I liked the time theories most, but they were always going nowhere. I wished myself watching Dark on Netflix again intstead.
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Post by RedRose on Oct 28, 2019 9:05:40 GMT
Didn't happen for me. I hate to say this but I experienced it as a middle class writer struggling for a decent idea, who isn't prepared to go into the world to find them. Imo, stories worth telling aren't found around writing rooms, they are in soulless Amazon warehouses, in 5am cleaning jobs, in 1am hotel work, in taxicabs - a thousand places that aren't rooms filled with bottled water. 'Grotesque' grows from 'new normal'. Maybe she knows that, maybe there is more humour - even parody; the chicken story and the 'cancelled' Danny suggested more dimension, but if it did it was left hanging and wasn't explored. Found it mono - monotone, monotonous. And the little trips on wheels, the disembodiment virtual reality segment, the seat choreography didn't paper over that. These are desperate times, the USA more than most, and there are a million important, vital stories to be told. Want 'grotesque'? Go and write about the families, the kids separated from their parents at the US border - tell those human stories FFS. Opioids, the tent cites outside every US town. I must agree. Although: the whole scenario was a bit like being in my office. A lot of ideas, but nothing really done with it and in the end the a lot of time wasted. Frustrating. But maybe that is the point of it? What a fabulous ensemble cast, but their talent is wasted in this. And as the staging is very bad - restricted view from most of the seats- you cannot even really enjoy watching them. I was also in on Friday and a lot of people were falling asleep and my friend even witnessed some snoring. I liked the time theories most, but they were always going nowhere. I wished myself watching Dark on Netflix again intstead.
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