“The Oldest Boy” started previews last night – did anyone catch it or will be seeing it soon? I’m sad to be missing this, as Sarah Ruhl is my favorite playwright (although, I do think she is, stylistically, hard to get right onstage and, in the hands of a director who tries too hard to make her shows extremely rooted in reality, it can be disastrous) and I’d love the opportunity to see Celia Keenan-Bolger is one of her shows. Excited to hear about it!
I have tickets for the Sunday matinee. To be honest, Ruhl has never been my favorite playwright, but the premise here sounds intriguing.
"You travel alone because other people are only there to remind you how much that hook hurts that we all bit down on. Wait for that one day we can bite free and get back out there in space where we belong, sail back over water, over skies, into space, the hook finally out of our mouths and we wander back out there in space spawning to other planets never to return hurrah to earth and we'll look back and can't even see these lives here anymore. Only the taste of blood to remind us we ever existed. The earth is small. We're gone. We're dead. We're safe."
-John Guare, Landscape of the Body
I've cooled on Ruhl after her last few works, but her recently released book of essays reminded me of why I loved her first several plays. I highly suggest reading it (it's a very brisk read).
I'm looking forward to thoughts on this.
"...everyone finally shut up, and the audience could enjoy the beginning of the Anatevka Pogram in peace."
I was there last night. I went more for Celia Keenan-Bolger than Ruhl, and damn she gave quite a performance. Celia basically never leaves the stage for the entire two hour run time, and might have as much as 65-70% of the dialogue. I mentioned to my friend at intermission that I didn't know if I'd ever seen her play a contemporary character before, and the result was refreshing and I believe let her tap into a raw emotional space that I haven't seen before.
The premise is interesting: Celia plays an American woman who marries a Tibetan man, who is living his exile in America. They have a three year old son, and one day two monks show up at their home. The monks are convinced that the boy is the reincarnation of a Lama. Celia has to grapple with whether or not to believe them, and if she chooses to accept it what this will mean for her son and family.
This might be a slight spoiler, so skip the next paragraph if you want...
The boy is presented as a wooden puppet that is handled by three actors, one of whom gives voice to the child. This is just one of the many elements that add a surrealistic quality to the play, including dream sequences and elaborate Tibetan costumes.
End slight spoilers.
The play is accessible and some the musings on religion in both America and Tibet were interesting. There were times when I felt like I was walking through the Hall of Asian Peoples at the Natural History Museum, which I happen to enjoy.
At the end of the day the evening was all about Celia more than the play; I'm glad I went and recommend others to check it out.
Marie: Don't be in such a hurry about that pretty little chippy in Frisco.
Tony: Eh, she's a no chip!
I really, really enjoyed the matinee today. I think it represents some of Ruhl's strongest writing. Like most of her previous work, there's a lot of whimsy mixed with realism--but she thankfully keeps it on the right side of twee here. I've never seen Celia Keenan-Bolger better. The physical production has many gorgeous elements, including the bunraku.
"You travel alone because other people are only there to remind you how much that hook hurts that we all bit down on. Wait for that one day we can bite free and get back out there in space where we belong, sail back over water, over skies, into space, the hook finally out of our mouths and we wander back out there in space spawning to other planets never to return hurrah to earth and we'll look back and can't even see these lives here anymore. Only the taste of blood to remind us we ever existed. The earth is small. We're gone. We're dead. We're safe."
-John Guare, Landscape of the Body
I was happy to see the author flay the slithering denizens of that fetid swamp known as academia.
Yes, a scathing attack from a tenured Yale professor.
"You travel alone because other people are only there to remind you how much that hook hurts that we all bit down on. Wait for that one day we can bite free and get back out there in space where we belong, sail back over water, over skies, into space, the hook finally out of our mouths and we wander back out there in space spawning to other planets never to return hurrah to earth and we'll look back and can't even see these lives here anymore. Only the taste of blood to remind us we ever existed. The earth is small. We're gone. We're dead. We're safe."
-John Guare, Landscape of the Body
I wasn't crazy about Ruhl's previous plays, but I absolutely loved this one. The ending is so moving that it had me in tears for the last 10 minutes. It reminded me of some of my favorite theatrical moments including Metamorphoses, the end of the American version of Cloud 9 or the end of Carousel. Great stagecraft and an amazing performance from Celia Keenan-Bolger. I hope this has a long life outside of this small theater.
Saw this past Sunday matinee - 4 of us all quite liked it a lot. Great performances and an interesting plot that sped forward with no lapse of interest. And very theatrical.
I wish I could say the same for the rest of the audience - most comments we heard from the LC members leaving were negative. In fact a man came up to the 4 of us in the lobby and broke into our conversation saying "what did you all think?" We said we liked it and he said so did he but all the people he was with HATED it. Quite a funny moment and I have no idea why he came up to us! Except maybe we looked incredibly intelligent!!! :)
The average Lincoln Center audience member is 100, deaf, and falls asleep before the lights are dimmed. They're not the people I would look to for enlightened opinions on theatre.
"You travel alone because other people are only there to remind you how much that hook hurts that we all bit down on. Wait for that one day we can bite free and get back out there in space where we belong, sail back over water, over skies, into space, the hook finally out of our mouths and we wander back out there in space spawning to other planets never to return hurrah to earth and we'll look back and can't even see these lives here anymore. Only the taste of blood to remind us we ever existed. The earth is small. We're gone. We're dead. We're safe."
-John Guare, Landscape of the Body
AC126748, sadly true. I was also at the Sunday matinee, and at the start of the second act an elderly lady behind us loudly started talking about her hearing aid battery. Sigh...
"The average Lincoln Center audience member is 100, deaf, and falls asleep before the lights are dimmed. They're not the people I would look to for enlightened opinions on theatre."
Coming from the most thoroughly vile commentator on this board, that's a compliment.
"You travel alone because other people are only there to remind you how much that hook hurts that we all bit down on. Wait for that one day we can bite free and get back out there in space where we belong, sail back over water, over skies, into space, the hook finally out of our mouths and we wander back out there in space spawning to other planets never to return hurrah to earth and we'll look back and can't even see these lives here anymore. Only the taste of blood to remind us we ever existed. The earth is small. We're gone. We're dead. We're safe."
-John Guare, Landscape of the Body
"You travel alone because other people are only there to remind you how much that hook hurts that we all bit down on. Wait for that one day we can bite free and get back out there in space where we belong, sail back over water, over skies, into space, the hook finally out of our mouths and we wander back out there in space spawning to other planets never to return hurrah to earth and we'll look back and can't even see these lives here anymore. Only the taste of blood to remind us we ever existed. The earth is small. We're gone. We're dead. We're safe."
-John Guare, Landscape of the Body
In defense of AC126748, it's SEMI-true. I would lower the average age to 50-60 (I'm over that range myself actually), many do seem a bit hard of hearing, and there are quite a few who do fall asleep in full view of everyone because of the arrangement of the theater. AC126748 may be exaggerating, but unfortunately it's based in fact. And I was at the same performance with the loud hard of hearing woman - half the audience went SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH to her
Obnoxious, elitist, and offensive--right in your wheelhouse, After Hate.
"You travel alone because other people are only there to remind you how much that hook hurts that we all bit down on. Wait for that one day we can bite free and get back out there in space where we belong, sail back over water, over skies, into space, the hook finally out of our mouths and we wander back out there in space spawning to other planets never to return hurrah to earth and we'll look back and can't even see these lives here anymore. Only the taste of blood to remind us we ever existed. The earth is small. We're gone. We're dead. We're safe."
-John Guare, Landscape of the Body
I saw this tonight, and I'm indifferent. At times, while watching it, I hated it. But I also cried and laughed, so I was into it. I'm not sure. I found it both interesting and dull. I think mostly I thought the plot was more of an idea and than actual "this is happening" moment. The writing was fine, but I thought some of it a bit static and unrealistic. I saw a lot of restless bodies in the audience.
Celia was good, but I find a lot of her line readings to be same throughout her body of work. For me it got a bit tiresome, but I thought she was doing strong work, but when you cry for the third time in a play it makes me not feel anything, ya know? Like I've already had my emotional release, so they need to figure out what the climax of the play is, etc. I thought the whole thing had like 2 different endings. It should have just been "Goodnight."
I can't imagine this will be a hot ticket, or very big word-of-mouth, but I'm not mad I saw it. Made me think about a lot of things. I think more interesting angle would have by aren't women more represented in religion, and why in this day and age, the age of walking on the moon and the iphone, aren't women STILL left out of all major religions? That's what I kept thinking when she said "I wish it was a daughter so she wouldn't be a llama."
I'm a little bored with the facile, standard issue ageist attacks on theatergoers d'un age certain, who sustain the NY theater with their dollars and presence. This past summer I saw "City of Conversation" with the brilliant Jan Maxwell in that very same venue, and afterwards a good-sized portion of the audience lingered just to talk about the play, filled with ideas and thoughts. They experienced it, wanted to revisit and analyze. I'm a boomer, not that far from the demographic, and found their investment -- many frail, with assistance needed -- powerful. And moving. Yes, I hate to hear the crackling earpieces, get tired of the canes and walkers. But they love theater, it's a life-supporting passion. They are an easy target, as is their supposed ignorance of the art form and its evolution, and the assumption that we'd all be better off without their attendance is mean and odd.
"I'm a comedian, but in my spare time, things bother me." Garry Shandling
I agree, Auggie, but on the flip side, I've never had a good audience experience at LCT, at least downstairs.
When I saw "City of Conversation" a woman behind me sat on her purse, after going to change out her hearing aid, and then started screaming that someone stole her purse, and then her husband had to yell at her that she's sitting on it.
And then, last night night at "the Oldest boy" - somene's hearing aid was going nuts and screeching, then a whole sector of the audience was just talking at normal volume about their trip to Tibet.
It doesn't hinder my experience of the play because that's part of live theater. But it's just funny.