Friday, 25 April 2014

What is becoming of creativity?



"You want to be a doctor? Oh that's nice - excellent career choice."
"A dentist! That sounds lovely."
"A writer? Come on seriously..."

Is it considered less of a great thing being a good writer as it would have been two hundred years ago; are aspiring concert musicians of today somehow less valued than an aspiring biologist?

This thought passed me by when my English teacher accidentally let slip I dipped my toes into poetry now and again (in front of my entire class). What's wrong with that? Most would say, you're doing something creative and I should be proud of it? From some of the subsequent questions and clipped replies, it became clear to me that some classmates were miffed, for lack of a better word, at my creative tendencies.

I'm quite aware of the stigma that comes along with young people writing poetry, (well, from my own experience) that it's for profound, philosophical prats who exist in a new region up their backside that they call enlightenment. This is the stereotype I am terrified of being associated with, and so why I feel really embarrassed telling people I enjoy writing/reading poetry.

It's an awful thought, maybe a testimony to my weakness of character, but I think that this could affect more people than just my sorry self? A very dear friend of mine writes and performs her own music, but feels uncomfortable saying "I wrote a song last night!" - The joy I feel when I finish a poem I think is half-decent, or my friend would get when finishing a song is capped to a degree, when you can only tell certain people.
 
This may have contributed to the explosion of "internet poets", people publishing their poetry on their blogs or websites, alongside the staggering multitude of musicians, artists and many more who have a presence online to display their work, (myself included) as opposed to a plateau to display their work to people they know in 'real life'.

(some extremely generic examples)

  • http://www.tumblr.com/search/poetry
  • http://www.deviantart.com/
  • https://soundcloud.com/ 
Is this a localised thing to just myself, (I'm a shameful example) or has this been experienced by other people?


Sunday, 2 March 2014

"A Streetcar Named Desire" production in The Playhouse - Review


"A Streetcar Named Desire"

a production by 

Carmel McCafferty School of Drama

'A Streetcar Named Desire' by Tennessee Williams is perhaps most widely known through the film adaption starring Marlon Brando and Vivien Leigh. The play tells the story of an aging woman, Blanche DuBois, who seeks solace in her sister Stella and Stella's husband, Stanley.
   Streetcar itself is an incredibly difficult play to produce, which initially shocked me when I realised the cast's young age, although stepping into the theatre, the initial feeling I got from the stage was not one of an amateur dramatic company. 

The play employs a sort of reverse-chronology, ironically beginning with the famous final scene, during which Blanche states she has always "..depended on the kindness of strangers." The play then skips back to the arrival of Blanche to Elysian Fields in New Orleans, and the play resumed as normal - presenting a turbulent roller coaster as we throttled towards the inevitable ending. 

The actress portraying Blanche done so excellently, there was the oh-so memorable ditziness if you will that she captured perfectly in Blanche's character. It is notable to add, despite the strength of the leading roles, there was some inconsistency in the supporting. There seemed to be a difficulty to maintain the correct dialect at points, and a few moments that don't appear as well glued together as the rest, although that is too high expectations for a drama group comprised of fourteen to eighteen year olds. 

Despite this, it was a good production of a very difficult play, especially so considering the drama group itself. It was most definitely worth the money, and put a very unique spin on the unforgettable. 

02/03/2014

 

Saturday, 8 February 2014

The Unremarkable Death of Marilyn Monroe




The Unremarkable Death of Marilyn Monroe is a spell-binding glimpse into the concluding, poignant moments of an icon.
Entering the theatre, I wasn't sure what format of play I was about to experience. When an excited, enthusiastic and robed Monroe sprang from her stasis upon the bed, the phone rings, a recurring motif in this play; I  ashamedly admit wrongly thinking that at the outset, the play would be a tad cheesy for lack of a better word, with Marilyn actively talking to audience, however a sense of solemnity and sadness seems to peek through the cracks in Monroe's wide smile.
   Lizzie Wort portrays the star as a woman terrorised by mental and physical afflictions, her insecurities and perhaps most pivotally, the influence the media played in her life. The play is at its best in the darkest segments, where through a simple stutter, or a blank expression, or a change of lighting, the internal turmoil is clear.
The details surrounding Marilyn's marriages and childhood are described by the star, which morph her into the star we only knew through the big screen, begging the question that she herself poses, "Did we ever truly know her?"
If anything, the play makes us think, looking back on several of the photos of Marilyn Monroe, is the woman who had an affair with JFK, the woman who aparently was murdered, who supposedly committed suicide, really the woman we knew? Or are we too quick to accept the media's portrayal of a woman who so clearly wasn't what she was presented to be.
     The Unremarkable Death of Marilyn Monroe is a triumph by Dyad Productions, it is both wonderfully produced and directed as well as acted. For a lover of Monroe, this play is a must, and for those unversed in her story, this play is a very interesting glimpse into the 'real' Marilyn's final hours, and I would recommend this one-woman confessional to anyone.

Mícheál McCann - 8/02/14