August 25, 2008

Blessed rain, slow, gray, like a veil everywhere gently descending.

Last night our last at the amphitheater. Tossed my rather under-annotated script into the trash, gently, though, so the gods would know it was housecleaning rather than symbolism. LD walked her dog backstage during the intermission, and said "Way to project! Everyone else looks like they’re screaming, but you just open your mouth and out it comes, straight to the back row." I suppose that was on the list of compliments I wanted, but not right at the top.

I think, finally, I am not a fan of gender-blind casting. If a playwright is any good, his males will be awkward if portrayed by women. Shakespeare should be an exception, but he’s not; he is rather an extension. His women are the tiniest bit off when they’re not being played by boys. Viola and Rosalind are both less fun unless you can think that Orsino and Orlando are falling a little bit in love with boys, saved from themselves only by good luck at the end. I would affirm the opposite, that a good playwright’s females are awkward when played by men, but in this age of superabundant female actors, that almost never happens. Our AYLI’s gynocentrism was among its faults. It made Rosaline’s masquerade pointless, and turned Arden into a singing church camp. The "second son of Sir Rowland de Boys" had the figure of Jayne Mansfield. Plopping a jaunty cap atop all that did not convince.