Today, there was supposed to be a doubleheader of free Shakespeare in the Boson Common. One troupe was doing Midsummer's Night Dream at three, and then, at seven, somewhere else in the Common, another troupe was going to put on Macb. . . -- I mean, The Scottish Play. (It just occured to me that it's not beyond the realm of possiblity that someone on my friends list would be reading this in a theater. . . )
We packed a picnic lunch, drove to the Common, spread out a blanket. The sky was clear, the sun was hot, Lis was pestering me to put on sunscreen that we hadn't brought. Oh, and
copperpoint, I saw Leigh O'Sullivan -- her littlest sister was playing Peaseblossom. She's getting married at the end of the month. Leigh, that is, not Rachel. Rachel's lilke twelve or something.
Anyway, the play was going well, with a couple of problems with mikes cutting out occasionally (about standard for free public theater), we were enjoying it, and it started raining just after when Oberon and Titania ran into each other at the beginning of Act II, and were fighting. The rain got a little heavier, and umbrellas started popping up all over the lawn. Nobody left. Helena chased Demitrius around ("Let me be your spaniel!"), with some physical comedy, and, just as Puck re-entered with the flower, the director broke in, and said they were stopping the play for a couple minutes, hoping the rain would clear up. And the skies totally opened up.
Nobody left. I mean, there were probably a hundred, a couple hundred people in the audience, and, looking around, I didn't see a single person budge. Lots of people had opened up umbrellas, quite a few people were UNDER their picnic blankets, and a few people were holding lawn chairs over their heads. . . but nobody was leaving.
It was a downpour. But it's summer, and it was warm rain, and nobody particularly saw any reason to go anywhere else. Lis had brought her cloak, and we put everything that might have been damaged by water under it (including all of Lis's clothes, unfortunately, with Lis still in them. It would have been more interesting otherwise). So, the books, my sandals, my straw hat, and Lis were under her cloak, which sat on the blanket like a big shapeless gray lump. I handed Lis the bottle of sparkling cider, and a hand came out of the cloak, took it, and the bottle vanished.
After ten minutes or so, when it became abundantly clear that the rain was still intensifying, rather than slackening, the director went up on the stage and canceled the play. Only then did people start leaving.
The problem was the sound system, of course. The audience didn't have a problem with the rain, and I suspect that the actors might have squelched through it, but it's amateur theater, and with an outdoor crowd that large and nobody with formal voice training, you really need microphones. And they just didn't want to electrocute the actors. I mean, there's only so much entertainment free theater is supposed to provide.
But we liked Act I, and Act II, Scene I of the play. But. . . I WANNA SEE THE MECHANICALS PUT ON PIRAMUS AND THISBE!! WAANNNHH!!! Maybe we'll go to Independence Park in Southie on Thursday night when they're gonna do another showing of it.
So, we went home. bought ice cream, made frappes, which are like milkshakes, only with ice cream added. So, it was a pretty good day even without Shakespeare in the Park.
We packed a picnic lunch, drove to the Common, spread out a blanket. The sky was clear, the sun was hot, Lis was pestering me to put on sunscreen that we hadn't brought. Oh, and
Anyway, the play was going well, with a couple of problems with mikes cutting out occasionally (about standard for free public theater), we were enjoying it, and it started raining just after when Oberon and Titania ran into each other at the beginning of Act II, and were fighting. The rain got a little heavier, and umbrellas started popping up all over the lawn. Nobody left. Helena chased Demitrius around ("Let me be your spaniel!"), with some physical comedy, and, just as Puck re-entered with the flower, the director broke in, and said they were stopping the play for a couple minutes, hoping the rain would clear up. And the skies totally opened up.
Nobody left. I mean, there were probably a hundred, a couple hundred people in the audience, and, looking around, I didn't see a single person budge. Lots of people had opened up umbrellas, quite a few people were UNDER their picnic blankets, and a few people were holding lawn chairs over their heads. . . but nobody was leaving.
It was a downpour. But it's summer, and it was warm rain, and nobody particularly saw any reason to go anywhere else. Lis had brought her cloak, and we put everything that might have been damaged by water under it (including all of Lis's clothes, unfortunately, with Lis still in them. It would have been more interesting otherwise). So, the books, my sandals, my straw hat, and Lis were under her cloak, which sat on the blanket like a big shapeless gray lump. I handed Lis the bottle of sparkling cider, and a hand came out of the cloak, took it, and the bottle vanished.
After ten minutes or so, when it became abundantly clear that the rain was still intensifying, rather than slackening, the director went up on the stage and canceled the play. Only then did people start leaving.
The problem was the sound system, of course. The audience didn't have a problem with the rain, and I suspect that the actors might have squelched through it, but it's amateur theater, and with an outdoor crowd that large and nobody with formal voice training, you really need microphones. And they just didn't want to electrocute the actors. I mean, there's only so much entertainment free theater is supposed to provide.
But we liked Act I, and Act II, Scene I of the play. But. . . I WANNA SEE THE MECHANICALS PUT ON PIRAMUS AND THISBE!! WAANNNHH!!! Maybe we'll go to Independence Park in Southie on Thursday night when they're gonna do another showing of it.
So, we went home. bought ice cream, made frappes, which are like milkshakes, only with ice cream added. So, it was a pretty good day even without Shakespeare in the Park.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-03 06:27 pm (UTC)(My very favourite milkshake flavour is spearmint, which marks me out as a weirdo, apparently.)
Sorry the play was rained out.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-03 06:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-03 06:48 pm (UTC)Ian, what do you put in a milk shake that's not a frappe?
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-03 08:02 pm (UTC)See, a "milkshake" is milk and a flavoring, frothed together. The difference between "chocolate milk" and a "chocolate milkshake" is that the "chocolate milkshake" is shaken. Or blended in a blender, or with a milkshake mixer. But the INGREDIENTS in "chocolate milk", "vanila milk", "coffee milk", or "strawberry milk" are precisely the same as what's in a "chocolate milkshake," "vanilla milkshake", "coffee milkshake", or "strawberry milkshake."
If you add seltzer to a milkshake, you have an egg cream.
If you add ice cream to a milkshake before shaking, blending, or mixing, you have a frappe. Unless you're in Rhode Island, in which case you have a cabinet.
See? It's simple. The only problem is that nobody uses the terms correctly outside Massachusetts.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-03 08:33 pm (UTC)Do actors call McDonald's "the Scottish restaurant"? Just curious.
(And I was out there in the torrent waiting for the evening play. Bummer.)
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-04 08:23 am (UTC)Me too. Me too
Date: 2003-08-04 09:05 am (UTC)In Israel we only have the "real thing" with loads of Ice-Cream, and the "Hebrew" name for such things is a bastardized transliteration of Milk-Shake, as both the soft 'i' and the long 'ay' are pronounced differently. What it works out to is "meelk-shek" :-)
Come to Israel (either of you), and I'll treat you to one or two :-D
(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-04 09:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-04 01:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-08-04 02:17 pm (UTC)Midsummer Night only has 2 more performances this week before it closes; Macbeth is all week and then it closes. For a slightly different take on Shakespeare, you might want to see if you can get to the New England Shakespeare Festival. Their gimmick is that they perform the plays using the original period methods. In other words, each actor only gets a
cue-script which contains only that actor's own lines plus the last three words of his cues. They only rehearse fights, dances and songs, with no other direction. Timing and wordplay isn't as polished as it might be, but it's got a fun improv-like feel.
Good luck.