"Breath" may have been a reaction to another performance in which, for the sake of veracity, actual aging sides of beef were hung in a theater for a play that was set in a -- well, somewhere that would have lots of sides of beef hanging about. I'm not sure of that, though, and the book in which I read about the beef incident took no notice of Beckett, as he came some years after.
He was also writing for an audience that was more versed in theater and went on a very regular basis, and was not entirely unaccustomed to such pranks. Today, I think, you'd have trouble getting a theater to do it because of outrage from the customers.
This "Breathe" thing really does sound like a completely different sort of thing, and I think that may be relevant. Fer instance, there's a theater here called "The Empty Space" after one of iof Peter Brooks treatises on what theater should and shouldn't be, and from what I've seen is dedicated to presenting the sort of work that Brook was writing against.
Sorry about the lack of focus; I used to be pretty well-versed on this stuff, but I seem to have unlearned a lot in the last few years.
Well Letty; this is music to my eyes!
"A poem should not mean, But be." Exactly
Art is emotional communication, and on that basis the responses here have little to do with the cerebrum, and lots of input from the nether regions of the body.
To me that reads "success".
Becket is quite brilliant (Godot), and can be (obviously) succinct (Breath)!
The economics of what you pay for, and how much when attending the theatre, are not, nor should they be, the problem of the artist!
When one is assessing ideas, it is necessary to keep an open mind;
when assessing art, keep an open "heart"!
Enjoy, don't think, you'll spoil the effect!
Great discussion re Beckett. I consider myself a fan, though I've only seen "Godot" and a recent one-man show by Bill Irwin of various Beckett texts that he performed. It was excellent.
I can't speak to the performance in question, but clearly Beckett didn't mind pushing the boundaries. I read a biography of him recently ("Samuel Beckett: The Last Modernist") which helped me appreciate where he came from, as a man and a writer. He was James Joyce's assistant, for a while, when he was establishing himself in Paris. Joyce hoped Beckett would marry Lucia, Joyce's somewhat unbalanced daughter, but it was not to be.
Not sure what this has to do with anything, but I find that connection fascinating. Joyce, after all, could be rather challenging himself!
Those Irish francophiles had to stick together!
But whiskey make a poor glue!
And absinthe an excellent solvent, I'm afraid...
Bo, Your response was artistically arranged right down to the hashed metaphor.
It took me some time to appreciate Yeats. I kept getting hung up on his "Second Coming."
D'ar, Woody Allen's movie "Picking up the Pieces" reminds me somewhat of Godot. Probably the only movie with Allen that I ever found redeeming.
and as to the "super" glue--well
Letty, "Picking Up the Pieces"? Never heard of that Woody Allen film, though I admit I don't keep as well as I did. Was that recent?
D'ar, I stumbled across it while surfing the pay channels one night. I watched most of it, and it was hilarious. The good guys didn't win and the bad guys did. Allen's little monologue at the end was fantastic.
Heh, heh. Just to prove that I have a weird sense of humor:
Picking Up the Pieces
Apollo Score: Readers' Rating: 62 (9 votes)
Alfonso Arau's Picking Up the Pieces is a movie that's destined to live in the "What were they thinking?" bin for a long, long time. Arau, an experienced character actor and director of such varied movies as Like Water for Chocolate and A Walk in the Clouds, seemingly directed this bizarre farce while under the influence of LSD. How else can we explain this movie, which tells the story of Tex ( Woody Allen), a butcher who dismembers his unfaithful wife ( Sharon Stone), only to lose her hand. The hand then inexplicably begins causing miracles in the tiny New Mexico town of El Nino. (Ha! El Nino! Get it?) But these are no ordinary miracles; while some of the town's citizens begin to lose their disabilities (one women regains her eyesight while a crippled man grows new legs!), others wish for more ?'practical' miracles (a flat-chested girl prays for huge breasts, and a midget acquires a massive penis).
The ringleader in El Nino is a young priest ( David Schwimmer, playing the most Jewish priest ever committed to film) who is having an affair with a gorgeous hooker ( Maria Grazia Cucinotta). When the townsfolk catch wind of the miracles, everyone lines up to make a wish, and all of a sudden this tiny little backwater is booming with tourists and newfound cash. As the mayor, Cheech Marin does whatever he can to keep the dismembered hand considered a ?'miracle' despite the fact that Tex and Texas Ranger Bobo (Sutherland) show up and basically tell everyone where the hand came from. Things go from strange to bizarre when a trio of investigating church officials ( Elliot Gould, Fran Drescher and Andy Dick) show up to expose the hand.
You can see the comedic jabs that Arau and first-time screenwriter Bill Wilson are trying to throw, but the gags are delivered in such a colourless style, that it becomes almost painful. Scene after scene promises something off-centre, but just being ?'off-centre' doesn't automatically make for an entertaining experience. It's as if the entire cast is spouting ?'inside jokes' none of which the audience is in on.
Nearly every scene features a bizarre occurrence, yet none come close to making this an entertaining film. Sure, it's kinda neat to see Allen share the screen with Schwimmer, but how long does that novelty last when the movie they're in is so strangely boring? The liner notes for the DVD quote Arau as saying "This film is made in the style of Magical RealismÂ…A bit of magic through the eyes of the character is used to help him philosophically face reality." I may not be a film scholar, but that just sounds like flowery talk about a movie that's so bizarre, so weird and so ?'out there' that it couldn't even earn a small theatrical release. I was hoping to enjoy this one, especially with the cast involved, but just because you have a strong cast, that doesn't mean you have a good movie.
Well, now I know why I never heard of it. No theatrical release! Thanks for sharing, Letty...
Letty, you said,
" I may not be a film scholar, but that just sounds like flowery talk about a movie that's so bizarre, so weird and so ?'out there' that it couldn't even earn a small theatrical release."
See, you described "Matrix" to me. Except for "a small tehatrical release."
Hey, Billy. Did I say that?
"Waiting for Godot" by Samuel Beckett.
A bleak play about two tramps, Vladimir and Estragon, who in the first act talk, go nowhere, do nothing, accomplish nothing. In the second act the tramps talk, go nowhere, do nothing,accomplish nothing.
At the end of the play, one says to the other "Shall we go then?" 'Yes, let's go." The stage directions say they don't move. Curtain.
There was a production of Godot in New York City about ten years ago. Guess who played the two tramps? None other than those two "artsy fartsy" guys Robin Williams and Steve Martin. The fact that they played a limited run(sold out) on the legitimate stage says more about them than about Beckett. Both guys come off as intellectuals.
Aside: When Beckett was asked "Who is Godot?" He replied "If I'd known, I would have told you.
Aside,aside: Picasso's painting "Guernica" has had more books written about it than any painting in history.
BillyFalcon said," I like a play that grabs you by the shoulders and shakes the **** out of you."
BillyFalcon also said,"We do not so much define art and judge its artistic merit,
as we define ourselves by the art we judge to have merit."
I certainly did like what BillyFalcon said at the end of his post.
Wee Billy be he in the third person, or not) missed the point; if not the world!
And Letty; from the "crit" that you posted, it seems the movie (pieces)missed the mark at which it aimed (fell to "pieces" one might say); however if you enjoyed it, it must have redeeming features (me try).
I must state that with one exception, I have not seen a movie with Woody Allen in it that I could stand; I find his repetitive non acting "character" annoying, boring, and an insult to the acting profession.
The exception being the one in which the sex act was enacted full scale by hilariously costumed people, from the perspective of the internal organs of the male partisipant (obviously can't remember the title).
However on the subject of W.Allen, his film "Interiors", which he directed, but did not have an onscreen presence in, is absolutely brilliant from the point of view of direction; every shot was a masterpiece, well worth seeing.
It seems that intellect does not always serve the clown as well as it serves the artist!
Meanwhile back at Beckett, Bo.
Methinks it time to stem the flow.
Billy boy has run amok,
Woody fans are out of luck.
And Letty is inclined to say,
"Interiors" might just save this day.
I'm takin' a deep breath, now.
Letty we can't just concentrate on "Interiors"
and "leave it all pent up inside!"
I'm a crass bastard. I like "Bananas" and "Deconstructing Harry."
Hmmm. I thought the site was down. Guess not.
Hey, Beckett, I'll bet you're up there laughin' your arse off.
And, Bo. You're right. Something is defined by nothing.
Base 2 to earth--
