Showing posts with label shows. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shows. Show all posts

Monday, January 26, 2009

Circus Parties and Finales

"It must be Thursday," Ben said. I poked my head up from my straddle-stretch and saw most of my classmates taping their wrists and putting leg braces on their ankles. We were getting bedraggled, after countless handstands, cartwheels, and rope climbs. Yet as the weeks wound down, we got closer and closer as a group. In class, we were taught not to be competitive. We were never set against each other -- we were partners, coaches to each other. Afterward, I didn't feel jealous or inadequate towards my peers. It made it easy to be friends.

At the beginning of the month, we had class, ate lunch together at some local restaurant, and then split up, either to shadow classes or to wander Seattle. It wasn't a very cohesive group -- outside of circus, we didn't have so many similarities. Some of us were extrovert-dance-party-dance people, others were more... chill. When we went to an arcade, I forgot that not everyone likes shooting zombies, playing pinball, and rocking out on DDR. I believed these were intrinsic "good things," like sunlight and cotton candy. It seems that not everyone enjoys large dark rooms with flashing lights, violence, and loud noises.

But as the weeks went on, we gelled. There were circus parties on Saturday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday with dancing, massage circles, cooking, and games. Part of getting good at various circus skills is learning how to hyperextend your shoulders, arch your back, and make your abs hard as stones. Games become absurd and physical -- flexibility tests involving a broom, a push-up game with beer bottles, a bending game with a paper bag, and tipsy handstand contests. We did the things you aren't supposed to try at home.


On Thursday, we got in to see Teatro Zinzanni, a lavish dinner theater circus. Through school, we got a massive discount so the whole class and four teachers went. Teatro Zinzanni is a real-life Moulin Rouge, the stage and seated areas overlapping with mirrors, red velvet, elaborate costumes, feathers, glitter, and hats. The acts collide with a 5-course dinner, with acrobats doing flips off the tables, and the dinner plates being spun.

Though we were sitting in the outer ring (yay, discount!) we still saw an amazing show. The highlight was Les Petits Freres, three incredibly skilled acrobats with a great slapstick routine. Their finishing move was a three-high (person on another's shoulders, on another's shoulders) that they got into from lying down. The whole circus-school crowd, squashed into two booths, erupted with applause. We stood, cheered, and didn't sit down. After weeks of practice, we all knew, in every tired little muscle, how hard that move was.


Les Petits Freres!



Chef Caesar!

Audience participation was integral to the show. The maestro, Chef Caesar, pulled up a number of people, mostly women, to flirt with. But the big deal was when he needed a replacement and needed to find "three virile men" to choose from. Our group all pointed at Terry, one of our teachers who's a really gifted physical performer. He's Charlie Chaplin, if Chaplin could do aerial rope. We pointed at him, cheering. Except rather than Terry, the "Chef" winked at Yoshi. Yoshi, your narrator's boyfriend, was one of the selected.

The other two guys were big, all-American boys, blue-eyed and straight-haired. One was big and manly, the other was young and manly. Yoshi is 5'3'', slim with long hair and a goatee. The odds seemed a bit stacked. "Chef Caesar" serenaded the two other guys first, cooing over their bulging muscles and masculine charms... then approached Yoshi. I waited for the seemingly-inevitable barrage of short jokes.

Instead, Caesar started singing Jesus Christ Superstar. He finished a few verses of the theme song as well as "I Don't Know How to Love Him." The host hugged him, yelling, "You're back! I'm so glad you're back! Baby, baby Jesus, you sacred stud!" In the audience, the circus crowd exploded with laughter. Yoshi isn't a very Jesus-like guy. He's a neuroscience major from Texas.

In order to win Caesar's crown, the three guys had to dance to "She's a Lady (Woah, Woah, Woah)." The game: every time Tom Jones sung the word "Lady," the man would have to point to a lady. While looking sexy. The first two guys went up, one by one and did an okay job. In the back, one of the waitress/performers gave Yoshi two pieces of advice:
1. "Take it off."
2. "Show them that Jesus could dance."

And Yoshi did. We've been doing dance warm-ups for the past 3 weeks -- both modern, ballet, and hip-hop. Yoshi served it up, stripped off his jacket, and pointed at ladies. The crowd crowned him victor and he got a little medal that said WINNER!


The next day, we had our final performance of "Look what I learned!" with individual acts and a big group number. Given none of us knew any of this before, it was amazing how much and how fast we had learned. Some of the others in the group excelled at one thing or another: rope, tightwire, trampoline, acrobalance, etc. For me... I didn't find a specialty, but I did find an area to improve in. For two weeks, I was scared of the trapeze. I couldn't get the most basic move, the "basket hang." It's not complicated, but I don't like holding myself upside down. Sticking my butt over my head is different from most other things in my life. But after I nailed the basket hang a few days ago... I got less scared of the trapeze. So, I made a short routine. Three of our coaches gave me advice on form and taught me some new moves (mermaid! bird's nest!). I shook out my newly-calloused hands and put on a little act.

We finished up with a few pyramids, doing slapstick-style interludes. The best was the "running man" number. Two duos stood face-to-face, grasping the other's wrists, making a little square platform that someone could balance a foot on. Or he could pantomime running a marathon, a la Prefontaine, with the duos whistling the "Chariots of Fire" theme. Then, we had a picnic lunch, did more handstands, went to a contra dance, and had a party.

This has been the best Winter Term I could imagine.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

I don't write my stuff anymore, I just kick it from my head.

Ratatat, playing at the Sco on Tuesday, was insane.

There were two starter bands: E-Rock and Panther. The former I really enjoyed- he came in wearing a black cloth over his head, covering his face with big sunglasses and a white bandanna holding it all in pace. He looked like a robber, if not a terrorist. On his arms, he'd drawn robot-style joints and a heart. Overall, an awesome aesthetic. His set was solid electronic dance music. I liked "teengirl fantasy" more, pound for pound, but it was an awesome way to start it off. I wouldn't hesitate playing it for my Dad when he asked what newfangled stuff I listen to.

Panther was a bit to indulgent indie, but with a solid beat and amazing drummer. The singer seemed like a self-absorbed dweeb- he made his voice echo on nearly every track- still, I danced.

The Sco filled to its sweaty brim as Ratatat set up. I was at the very front for the two openers; by the time Ratatat was ready to go, I was about 4 rows of people in after a bunch of folks pushed ahead of me.

Izzie looked around and said, "Guys, we're gonna get crushed," a mix of fear and excitement in her voice. The dance floor filled more and more.

The instant Ratatat started, the crowd became a huge, amorphous organism. We swelled, we danced, we jumped, we moshed. The Sco workers moved to the head of the stage and pushed the crowd back, away from the equipment. Despite the claustrophobia, the crowd was really pleasant, all of us swaying in the sweaty human ocean. Sweaty isn't the right word, but it approached the soaked-ness that described the whole audience.

I love Ratatat.

---

"What's so funny about attrition?" asked Prof. Kalyn, in a lesson on Zipcar for Entrepreneurship.
Yoshi and I looked at each other and laughed. I'm obsessed with attrition and Yoshi and I had a disagreement about the value of following up on new OCircus recruits through some alternative means. Yoshi wants us to build a solid structure and let the newbies settle as they will; I want to increase the social activities of the club to increase the cohesion of the club.

On Friday, we had an incredible showing at TGIF: it felt like a festival. There were so many freshmen learning, picking things up... I taught about 8 people beginning poi, including a girl who was the spitting image of Harper Jean. About a fourth of us, myself included, pulled off our tops and rocked out in our bras/skins. Given the number of people, it was pretty paramount in my mind to keep as many as I could around. New blood, my friends. New blood.

-

Death of a Salesman was phenomenal. It was something special- the Theater Department brought in 5 Actor's Equity folks to put on a professional show. Adrian Brooks was Willy Lohman. Adrian Brooks, Captain Sisko in Deep Space 9, amazing actor and orator. His reading of Willy was painful and brilliant, making his dementia more explicit and grand than I imagine a lot of actors would do. Justin Emeka, who teaches theater was directing and playing Biff- he did an amazing job. The lead cast- the Lohman family- was entirely African-American, meant to highlight a racial component in the class struggle, so visceral by Miller's play. I stopped noticing race about 10 minutes into the show, going from "this is the African-American experience" to "this is the American experience." Bernard and Charlie were very Jewish refugees, an interesting choice- Josh Sobel, who's in my Drama Literature class, played Bernard and did an amazing job, especially with the age component of the play. Raphi was brilliant, as ever.

Walked around Oberlin after seeing Salesman, to go from Very Serious Theater, to a campus where music echoed out of every third house on a Saturday night. I'm glad I saw it. I cried afterward for about a half-hour.

---

Pertinent quotes:
"I'm a robot! I've always been a robot! Our relationship is doomed!"

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Decline and Fall

Dear Wall Street,

Please, babe, get better. Do you remember that stock market project we did, back in the good old days? You know, the 90s? I miss that.

Yours,
Aries

--


Rebel Diaz, playing at the Sco, was so good. They were three singers, two of them siblings, who sang political populist hip-hop. The lone woman of the group was one of the tightest, most amazing rappers I've ever heard. Their beats were dance-able- if they hadn't been such a powerhouse performance, I'dve been rocking out in the back, trying out what I learned at SPARK.

SPARK was demented in a good, life-affirming way. Hip-hop is not my traditional domain, but I do like it. I didn't get a shuffle-step, but I got most of the rest. I'm a fan of top-rock; I'm not looking forward to pikes, except in the awful-bits that like when I fail at things. I take a long time to learn movement styles; I need a lot of repetition and things don't come naturally to me. Expecially... uh.. hard things. Like anything that involves balance.

Post-Diaz, we went to Agave for the coffee and burritos. It's nice that something other than Downtown Pizza and the Feve stays open past midnight on a weekend. Especially when that thing is Agave. Blessed Agave.