Italics are mine

#BlogOctober Don McCullin and Sebastian Junger in conversation at the 92nd Y

Yesterday I attended a conversation at the 92nd Y between celebrated war photojournalist Don McCullin, now 80 years old, and Sebastian Junger (of Restrepo fame), at the occasion of the re-issue of the book of photographs Don McCullin by Aperture. McCullin is truly an inspirational figure who spoke movingly and powerfully of his childhood during the Blitz, his lack of formal education, the stroke of good luck that led to his career in photojournalism, the shame he felt when covering conflicts at not being able to do more for the people he photographed, especially since the war photographs that receive the most attention in the press are generally the ones that show people getting killed.

Some of the particularly arresting stories he shared included one about his interaction with the Christian Phalange in Lebanon and one about photographing a woman beating her chest when she saw her building had been completely bombed out - woman who died in another bomb explosion only moments after McCullin left the scene. He was very lucid about the experience war has on young soldiers and the difficulty in separating, within the diagnosis of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, a profoundly traumatic experience that happened during the war from the inability of young men who lived such an "exciting" tour of duty to face the return into ordinary, civilian life back home. Both he and Junger made the point that some of those men who led flamboyant lives during military duty may have led very obscure and uneventful lives without the war. In a way the war allowed them to realize themselves. The effect war has on soldiers is a complicated topic.

Here is the story behind McCullin becoming a photographer and selling his first picture, which I show at the left (photo credit: National Media Museum website): he had purchased a camera when he was in the mandatory service at someone's recommendation, although he had failed the test to become a photographer because he could not remember the theory due to his dyslexia, and when he went home this gang, the Guv'nors/Governors, wanted him to take a picture of them. There was a bombed out house in the neighborhood whose entire front was missing so one could see the interior on each floor, and he had each position himself at the edge of each of the rooms. In those days even gangsters wore suits, as you can see. The picture is available in bigger format here. McCullin said at the talk that he only took one negative, which seemed to amaze Junger. He also told the story of how he got (when he was photographing) picked up by the police who claimed there was a stolen camera in the neighborhood and required that he show them the receipt and escorted him home to that end. And he showed them the receipt and they suddenly became very nice but he did not have much respect for the police after that.

He also told stories about his time in war conflicts such as Vietnam, a photograph he didn't take when a bomber got murdered by a crowd in a very theatrical execution (if I understood correctly), his relationship to God (he lost his father young and so lost faith after that, but still when he came under heavy fire while he covered a conflict he could not help praying God for a second chance), his feeling of powerlessness when he went to an orphanage in Africa and 800 malnourished, dying children stared at him with hopeful eyes while there was nothing he could do for them besides taking photographs. 

The event was a conversation between McCullin and Sebastian Junger, who spoke eloquently, asked excellent questions and truly listened to their answers to build upon them in follow-ups. I was familiar with Junger's work as a nonfiction writer but he truly impressed me as a speaker and interviewer. He absolutely was the right person to involve so that McCullin could share his life story in the most impactful manner. The event was accompanied by a slideshow of some of McCullin's pictures (most of war scenes and all in black-and-white dark/"dusky" printing, his signature style). Many of those were jaw-dropping in their sheer beauty and intensity. The man deserves to be a legend.

You can purchase the book here.

#BlogOctober "Antigone" at Kennedy Center

The other day I saw Antigone at Kennedy Center in a touring production directed by Ivo van Hove, and since I didn't like his A View from the Bridge when it was broadcast from London through NTLive (more about that here), it should come as no surprise that I went not for the production but because Juliette Binoche was starring in the title role.

I had seen Juliette Binoche in Miss Julie a few years ago in Paris, and that production was so dismal (although Binoche herself was great) that I had to see her "live" a second time. It turned out to be as "live" as possible since - by a stroke of good luck - I ended up in the center of the front row, within ten feet of Binoche at the curtain calls. (It was really pure luck - every other performance was practically sold out with only the last two rows in the far back of the auditorium still having a few empty seats left, but this one must have had a cancellation because the first row also had empty seats, and the last two rows, and nothing else.)

The production was far better than A View... with actors in (business casual) street clothes and a spare set anchored by a large sun changing colors in the middle of the back wall, but also couches and office desks in front, desks that the actors never use except at the very end when the play is over - they sit down and start writing or typing. There must have been an explanation for it, a symbol, just as there must have been an explanation for why Binoche was wearing a black see-through dress (the explanation I need being obviously on the "see-through" part of the dress rather than its color), but those reasons eluded me.

Yet, it was a good production with talented actors, not as gripping as Salome, which I saw the night before (more on that here), but remarkable nonetheless - Antigone is a play I've studied in high school in the Jean Anouilh adaptation, and it reminds all of us of ideals and taking stances in spite of personal risk and even death. (Anouilh wrote his play during the German Occupation of France. The version presented at Kennedy Center was the original one, by Sophocles.)  

On a personal note, I was impressed by how little of a French accent Binoche had when she spoke. I suppose it shows I could get rid of my French accent if I wanted. But would I still be me if I did? 

The production failed at inspiring the audience in (imitating Antigone by) taking a stand for what we believe in - quite a few people in the line for the shuttle back to the metro station praised Binoche but were only lukewarm at best about the production, which you can also discern in the New York Times review of the play when the tour stopped at BAM in Brooklyn. But not too many plays from Ancient Greece are being produced these days, and this one certainly has challenges to begin with. In the end I was left with wonderful memories of Binoche and the rest of the cast, and a wish that Jean Anouilh's version of Antigone be shown in the US. That would have been an Antigone Binoche would have been perfect for. 

#BlogOctober "Salome" at Shakespeare Theatre Company

I saw Salome at the Shakespeare Theatre Company the other day, in a new adaptation written and directed by Yael Farber, to whom we owe a spellbinding production of The Crucible at the Old Vic. I had wanted to see live one of her productions ever since I saw The Crucible online, and jumped at the opportunity to see Salome, which also represented STC's entry into the Women's Voices Theater Festival. 

The production had as its underlying theme the tension between occupied countries and their occupiers, and the ultimate rebellion of the people who live in the occupied lands, spearheaded by Salome when she puts the head of someone named the Prophet on a platter (this is not shown but alluded to). The man had been baptizing people and had been imprisoned by her stepfather the king, who seems very close to molesting his stepdaughter.

The story is truly Salome's, with the Nameless Woman (the woman with white hair in the picture) serving as chorus as well as the representation of an older Salome - Olwen Fouere, on stage almost from beginning to end, would steal the show if Nadine Malouf didn't hold her own so well. In Farber's reimagining of the story, Salome is cast as an Antigone-like female who rebels against blind authority and is not afraid to take a dangerous stance to start a needed revolution.

Farber avoided gratuitous symbols such as a head on a platter (which is a customary prop in the opera version of the story). The use of light and shadow as well as song and movement choreography was arresting. Susan Hilferty, of Wicked fame, designed the set and the costumes, with a set that included sand dropping from above, water pouring down, a rotating stage, and more. The songs in a foreign language by singers on stage evoked a time gone by and vanishing country. This really showed what powerful theater can look like.    

The man who plays the Prophet spoke in a foreign language (the Nameless Woman translated everything he said) and I had assumed it was Hebrew due to the setting of the play, but it emerged during the post-show conversation that he was speaking classical Arabic. The production had as its subtext the situation in certain occupied lands, to such an extent that the young woman who was leading the conversation refused to give us the statement that the director of STC had prepared in this case and told us to email a certain email address to receive it because she did not want to misquote it. In other words, she dodged. 

I found the post-show conversation a bit lacking; no one from the cast or creative team came out and a young woman who looked eighteen and was probably all of twenty-two (right out of college) asked us to talk with each other. She used the "I'll take your email address and get back to you or you can email [email protected] and they'll make sure you get your answer" too much for my taste. But it is also hard for someone who looks so young and has both limited presence and limited knowledge of the play background to stand in front of audiences night after night, so I applaud how brave she was. Besides, I did learn quite a bit from the post-show conversation thanks to my neighbors. 

One thing that bothered me was that two women behind me happily made clear while they were chatting to each other that they had gotten drunk at the concession stand before the show because we had been warned there would be nudity, and their male neighbor seemed all excited that it would be a "risque" play (his word), but the nudity in the play is nothing to drool over: it happens at the end of the dance of the seven veils, when Salome dances for her stepfather the king. There was no dance on stage - two attendants removed Salome's jewelry and clothes in steps while Salome stood at the end of the stage. I felt sorry for the actress who has to put up with lewd spectators, although they did get calm when the show started.

The production was visually stunning, narratively gripping and it made me think long and hard about today's world. What a gift.

#BlogOctober Goddess Parnashavari at the Rubin Museum of Art @rubinmuseum

(All pictures mine. -Aurelie Thiele) I had the most amazing experience at the Rubin Museum of Art in New York City the other day. The Rubin is a museum dedicated to Tibetan and Himalayan art. Given my interest in Buddhism and art, I often go to the museum, which represents an oasis of calm in the Chelsea neighborhood of NYC and - in addition to superb collections - has a wonderful, mostly quiet coffee shop (perfect for writing) and a well-stocked bookstore on the first floor. Although I am very familiar with the Rubin, I had never bothered in front of a large banner-type piece of art on the third floor, in spite of the oddity of seeing a floor-level cushioned bench on top of the two stairs leading down to it (see picture, the work I am talking about is at the center), and noticing a person or two sitting there for extended periods of time once in a while. 

Last week when I was at the Rubin after getting some writing done, I did come closer to this work of art (read more about it here), and ended up sitting in front of it on that bench pictured above for about 45 minutes. I hadn't planned to but this painting (technically it is more a painted banner than a painting because it is painted on cloth as a mural, but I'll keep things simple) gave me the most amazing feeling of peace when I sat in front of it, so that I only left because it was time to go to a meeting I had scheduled. At some point I even felt like crying, but in a good way. The painting shows Goddess Parnashavari, Goddess of Healing or Forest Goddess, and of course I concluded that the painting was telling me it was time to heal. Which it is. And I knew exactly what I was going to do, and I came to it from a place of poise and strength and grounded-ness.

The painting follows the tradition of Himalayan art, with the central deity (here, Parnashavari) in the middle and the root deity, from whom the teachings originate, immediately above her. Here, it is a blue buddha (Akshobhya). On his left and right are fellow teachers in the lineage. They play an important role in the picture because they play(ed) an important role in the transmission of knowledge from teacher to disciple. On the left is the Four-armed All-seeing Lord (Avalokiteshvara) and on the right is White Tara. The landscape around the central deity helps turn the painting into a visual narrative. Finally, at the bottom of the painting are the protectors, who generally are wrathful deities. You can see them at the bottom of the second picture I posted. 

I am a big believer in energy and I must have been putting out a really strong vibe because someone who had looked at the painting while I was sitting in front of it, not even trying to meditate, just sitting and feeling the most amazing calm, later came up to me as I was leaving and told me "I bow down to your devotion, it is really very strong" (this is the sort of things that happen at the Rubin, and happen to me on a regular basis... and I knew right away what the person was trying to say, and made a big grateful smile and said thank you, and went on my way.) Although I also meditate at home in front of the pictures I took of Parnashavari, the feeling does not even begin to compare with the peace and awe and safety I felt when I sat in front of it. The impact of the sheer size of the painting cannot be reproduced. You can see on the picture I posted that the lady has three eyes and three heads. She looks fierce and determined to protect and heal the people under her care. In fact, she looks like someone who does not look for fights but will fight to death for the things she believes in. 

For a while now I had felt I should go to the Rubin and I couldn't understand why, except that I couldn't remember when I had last been there (the museum was actually between exhibitions when I went, so the top two floors were mostly closed). But when I saw the mural of Goddess Parnashavari I knew that was what I had come for. I would come and sit in front of it every day if I could. I can't put in words the feeling of peace this experience gives me. Now I strive to bring the same feeling into my everyday life.

#BlogOctober Niall Ferguson at the New York Historical Society

I attended a talk by Niall Ferguson from Harvard University (and soon to be from Stanford University) the other day, about his new books about Henry Kissinger's early years up to 1968: The Idealist. It was a good talk. He reminded me of Brian Greene, whom I wrote about here, in his ability to speak without notes, walk across the stage and make jokes when needed. (An unusual number of loud cell phones rang during his talk.)

Ferguson gave anecdotes about how he came to write this authorized biography and insisted that he had only agreed to do it if he had total freedom of writing, which Kissinger granted him except for the right to quote certain of his personal papers related to his first marriage. This is something Ferguson readily granted, in part - he explained - because he was going through a divorce himself at the time and knew how sensitive certain things could be. He touched upon Kissinger's growing up in New York City - a city that plays such an important role in Kissinger's formative years through his immigrant experience - and his experience witnessing the liberation of a concentration camp after the war.

Some of his anecdotes, such as how Kissinger wrote a very lengthy honors thesis at Harvard called "The Meaning of History" that led to page limitations for all subsequent theses known as the Kissinger rule, or the fact that Nixon offered him a position in his cabinet in such a convoluted way that the meeting had to happen twice because Kissinger wasn't sure what he had been offered, are very well-known so I thought he could have gone a bit faster over those. 

While the New York Times review states that "it is in Ferguson’s comprehensive demolition of the revisionist accounts of the 1968 election by Seymour Hersh, Christopher Hitchens and others that this book will be seen as controversial. For he totally rejects the conspiracy theory that blames Kissinger for leaking details of the Paris peace negotiations to the Nixon camp, details that enabled Nixon, it was said, to persuade the South Vietnamese that they would get better treatment if he and not Hubert Humphrey were in the White House," Ferguson didn't address that point in his talk, perhaps because he wanted to leave enough material not covered in his speech to incite attendees to buy the book.

At the end of his speech, Ferguson made a compelling plea for improving the place of history among the social sciences and humanities, decrying today's predominance of economics and arguing that we are bound to do the same mistakes again and again if we don't have a sense of history. He also mentioned that, at his second wife's suggestion - famous activist Ayaan Hirsi Ali - he was considering calling the second volume "The Realm of Power" but wasn't sure he wouldn't change is mind. Because the NYHS had hosted Robert Caro a few days early in a speech about Robert Moses and power, someone in the audience made the connection between the early idealist days of the two men (to be contrasted with their later persona) during the Q&A. Someone else asked a question about Kissinger's attitude toward the Jewish state and, if I understood correctly, Ferguson answered that during the period covered by this book, Kissinger wasn't particularly interested in it.

Ferguson is clearly an accomplished speaker. At times he came across as just a little too in control, a little too slick, a little too aware that he is a good speaker. I still have to read Walter Isaacson's biography of Kissinger so I didn't buy Ferguson's book. I have a lot of respect for Isaacson and if I ever decide to buy The Idealist (maybe when it's out in paperback) I'm sure that having read Isaacson's book will help putting some events in perspective.

#BlogOctober Glass Menagerie, Killing Fields, Law and Order

What do The Glass Menagerie (the 1973 TV production of the play), The Killing Fields (the 1984 Academy-Award-winning movie) and Law & Order (the TV series) have in common? Sam Waterston. I first discovered Waterston as Assistant District Attorney Jack McCoy in Law & Order almost fifteen years ago, and realized only much later that he had also had a very successful movie and stage career before joining the TV series.

I wanted to write a post about this because I think it illustrates well the dilemma that many actors face. When you watch Waterston in The Glass Menagerie or The Killing Fields, you cannot help but be struck by the depth and quality of his acting. (You can also see him in Woody Allen's movies such as Interiors, among other things.) As much as Hepburn's acting in Glass Menagerie strikes me as over-the-top and sometimes cringe-worthy, Waterston consistently hits the right note - the right expression, the right movement - with clinical precision every single time. He was truly great in, shall we say, the more complex registers of acting that perhaps have the least mass appeal: Acting in Important Movies, all in capital letters.

And yet he left that more or less behind - whether by choice or because he no longer was offered roles he wanted to play, I'm not sure - to join Law & Order, which, as far as TV series go, was certainly one of the better ones, but did not allow him to show much range at all. Was it a good thing? A bad thing? I'm glad he played the role of Jack McCoy, which gave him wide public recognition, and I also wish he had spent more time in those Important Movies that had represented the beginning of his career. When someone embodies a TV character for such a long time, it is difficult to remind the audience to separate the actor from his TV alter ego. That also limits the actor's career away from the TV series he owes his popularity to.

Another actor who comes to mind as I write this is Jesse Martin, who was part of the original cast of epoch-making Rent before joining the cast of Law & Order. He did play a bit of Shakespeare in 2010 in New York, but mostly has been seen in TV series since he left Law & Order in 2008. It is wonderful that long-running and high-quality TV series allow talented actors to make a living, and there is certainly no shortage of stage actors willing to replace them if they prefer TV to theater (or high-brow movies). Yet, I wonder how many of those would have best expressed their gifts on stage rather than in front of the cameras. What did we miss out on because actors today rarely if ever can make a good living off stage work and independent/non-blockbuster movies?

#BlogOctober Book review: "Louder than words" by Todd Henry

I recently finished reading Louder than words: Harness the power of your authentic voice by Todd Henry, whose The Accidental Creative I had enjoyed a few years back. Louder than words is a quick read and it has some platitudes but overall I thought it was a valuable read for creatives everywhere. The book is divided in three parts, and the strongest part is Part 2 "The Voice Engine" by far. Below are some notes I took while I was reading the book.

(The Accidental Creative dates from 2011 and Die Empty, which I haven't read, was published in 2013. It looks like someone is going for the "short book every two years" success formula. Perhaps slightly less frequent books with more meat would be more likely to create a large loyal audience.) 

Henry advises readers to create a working manifesto, which highlights their through-line, i.e., "the central theme or grounding understanding of who you are and what you offer the world". He makes an interesting comment about the nine muses in the Greek mythology, daughters of Zeus (representing power and energy) and Mnemosyne (representing memory), where he argues that creativity is energy applied to memory, i.e., "take bits of past experience and intentionally apply them to new problems in order to discover fresh ideas."

He also has a practice he calls the "50 Notables", where he keeps track in a notebook (running log) of moments where he is at his best, or moved emotionally, or when something stirred his anger, or gave him great hope. He also recommends writing down the sort of problems the readers are naturally drawn to solving. Conversations, people watching and key memories or life moments also find their place into this running log, with four key categories: date, what is it, why is it notable, where did it happen (useful to identify patterns).

There is a lot of feel-good prose, for instance reminding us that being unique means committing to a path and stepping out on a branch, but that is not a bad message. He also asks the readers about five important works, experiences or mentors that have shaped their experiences, and how the readers' behaviors have ultimately diverged from that of their mentors. I also liked his use of the concept of sherpa to give readers through those branches they are encouraged to step out on.

Henry is relentless in emphasizing the need to keep one's intended audience in mind and the value that the readers plan to add to these audience members' lives. Success will come from the precision and clarity of one's work. He recommends the creation of an (audience) "avatar", someone who epitomizes the intended audience. Not everything creative people make will be for everybody, nor should it be - again, feel-good prose that is also true. The intended audience should be made to feel like the hero by reframing their perspective and inciting them to action. 

The book has more good advice but I don't want to list everything here. I'll leave my fellow creatives out there with one important question from the book: "As you consider your vision for your work, what is the epiphany it is designed to inspire?"

Rating: four stars out of five. 

#BlogOctober "Dinner with the Understudies" at DeSales

Today I was fortunate to attend a dinner at DeSales University organized by the theater department on the theme of understudies. Each dish at the dinner had an element that had been replaced by something else, along the idea that the understudy has to fit into an existing group but is not the person that the rest of the cast is accustomed to. Each table had one or two understudies from DeSales theater shows, "Bus Stop" or "Once upon a Mattress". My table was lucky to have two! 

I was very impressed by how articulate they were and how they shared great stories with humor and a clear dedication to their art. One of the understudies at my table, who also plays the violin and the guitar, actually was the Fiddler in Fiddler on the Roof a few years back and composed the music Virgil plays in the Act 1 production of Bus Stop, which I saw! 

At the end of the dinner the understudies from theater, dance and musical theater all lined up in front of the room and we did a Q&A with them. They conveyed brilliantly the challenges and rewards of being an understudy. Some directors have the understudies observe rehearsals and take notes, so that the understudies have to practice themselves in their room to acquire muscle memory (this is particularly crucial for stage performers, because there is no way you will consciously remember all the moves. If you do not practice the moves on stage during rehearsals, you are at a disadvantage.) Other directors bring the understudies in every few rehearsals. One director even gave the principal and the understudy equal rehearsal time on stage. 

The dancers explained the role of swing, who basically understudies several roles in productions where the understudies are also part of the regular cast. (This creates a game of musical chairs if a principal is unable to go on, because someone needs to fill the principal role that his understudy had in the play, and someone needs to fill the principal role that this other someone had, etc, and at the end the role that is left unfilled is taken by the swing.) One dancer told us she had understudied three roles out of eleven dancers in a given show, and she found it rewarding that the director had such confidence in learning all those moves, but those three characters had very different roles in the choreography, which made it challenging to learn. The director of the theater program also jokingly said he did not want the students to feel they would be getting principal instead of understudies roles if they were less conscientious.

The other dancer understudy explained that when she had understudied, she got to be on stage in rehearsal on the side and do the movements in place, which helped with muscle memory, but still left critical issues unaddressed, since you don't know at that point how long it takes you to do the moves when you do them full out or how long it takes you to cross the stage, for instance. Obviously this is important in dance when you have to remain in sync with the music. 

The students conveyed convincingly how critical it is for understudies to pay attention in a much deeper way than the principals, precisely because they won't have the same muscle memory, and because they may have multiple roles to learn. In a way, it sharpens their power of attention and makes them better actors, although obviously they'd like to have principal roles too. The students also said that sometimes it is useful to throw an understudy into the show because it allows the other actors to re-think their acting.

The evening ended with a little presentation by a DeSales alumna who had to go on on short notice (was told in the morning for that evening) for a musical (A Musical Murdery Mystery, I think the name was) where she knew 95% of the songs and she knew 95% of the book but she only knew 75% of the choreography. And she was lucky that she was playing the role of a klutzy, sweet girl in a comedy (who was supposed to make complex choreographed moves with an enormous flag she had never rehearsed with) because whenever she forgot what she had to do, she just pretended she was in character. For instance there was a moment where the lights went dark and everyone was supposed to hide behind the couch, and she forgot so when the lights went back on, she was the only one on stage wondering where everyone else went. Then she saw the rest of the cast behind the couch and remembered and followed them. The audience roared because that went perfectly with her character, and when the principal came back on after her laryngitis, she incorporated some of the things the understudy had done, although those things had initially been mistakes. But she did say she had been lucky that she hadn't gone on as, for instance, Abigail in the Crucible!

The students at my table left at 7pm for choir rehearsal. They had a scene rehearsal for work by student directors planned for 10:30pm before calling it a night. The dinner left me with a profound respect for the amount of work the students put in as they learn their craft. Their talent is enormous and I'm sure they're destined to great careers on Broadway or elsewhere. Everyone was talking about DeSales alumna Phoenix Best '15, who was an understudy for Eponine in PSF's Les Miserables this summer (and went on once, for the second show), just got cast as a swing in The Color Purple. Good things happen to DeSales understudies and I'm sure better things are yet to come!

#BlogOctober "Bus Stop" at DeSales

Two weeks ago I went to see Bus Stop at DeSales, out of curiosity, since the movie version starred Marilyn Monroe famous and the play is by William Inge - the same author who wrote Off the Main Road, which I saw at the Williamstown Theater Festival this past summer. All the DeSales student productions are excellent, and this one did not disappoint. The actors were remarkable, but if I may single out just one, I'd say Ally Borgstrom as Cherie stole the show. Her monologue standing on the table in particular was hilarious. One reason why I love going to the DeSales theater shows is that many of those students are clearly destined to great careers, and it feels like a privilege - and a real treat - to watch them polish their craft when they are still undergraduates. For many of those I hope to say very soon "I knew them when..." I can actually say that already of Phoenix Best, DeSales '15, whom I saw in her very first show at DeSales as Velma Kelly in Chicago, and has just been cast as a swing in The Color Purple on Broadway. Even as a sophomore she stunned me with her spark and talent. I feel truly grateful to live so close from a great theater program like DeSales's. 

Here is a preview of the show, which closed last week. You missed out if you didn't see it!

#BlogOctober PSF WillPower Tour: Julius Caesar

Yesterday I got treated to a private performance of the Pennsylvania Shakespeare Festival's Linny Fowler WillPower Tour of "Julius Caesar". The WillPower Tour presents 80-minute versions of Shakespeare's plays in Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Delaware classrooms, along with workshops and talkbacks with actors. For some students it is the very first opportunity they have to see live theater. The tour is made possible through funding of the National Endowment for the Arts through its Shakespeare in American Communities program, in partnership with Arts Midwest.

The WillPower tour fills such an important purpose in the community it is impossible not to like it, but I was thrilled to see how good the production was. To be honest, I was not quite sure what the plot was, besides the fact that Julius Caesar is assassinated. (I didn't go to school in the United States. My high school followed the French educational system. We studied Moliere and Racine but not Shakespeare... My first Shakespeare play was Antony and Cleopatra at PSF in 2009.) I was stunned by the talent of the young actors (they are all twenty-somethings) and the quality of the production, which presents the play in modern dress. As a spectator commented during the talkback, Julius Caesar looked like "one very fine Allentown city councilman". The other actors were in guerrilla attire. I liked this take on the play because it forces us to think about how we can bring people into power and allow them to become dictators at our expense, but also more generally about loyalty, guilt, revenge and betrayal.

The play was followed by a talkback with all the actors, who proved very articulate and adept at answering the audience's questions on the fly. The performance was at DeSales but most often they actually load the set into a truck and drive all over the area to play in schools. (That very morning they had given a performance in Reading, about two hours away.) They described the very intense rehearsal process, commented on some of the cuts that were made and some that were not (the scene with Cinna the poet was supposed to be cut but stayed in), showed us how the red ribbons that represented Julius Caesar's blood came out of the suit and discussed the students' reaction to the play. They felt very strongly school-aged students were capable of understanding the language, especially when seen in the context of a performance, where the action helps also figuring out what is going on. They all took great pride in this opportunity and the role they were having in bringing Shakespeare to local schools. Their enthusiasm was truly inspirational. 

Initially scheduled to run for one month from October 7 to November 6, the tour has been extended by two weeks to November 20. If it is coming to your school, you won't be disappointed - it is a really great production. The only thing I don't like is that PSF doesn't publish a list of the cast or the director's name on its website. They deserve more credit for the great job they are doing. Here is the link to PSF WillPower Tour's Julius Caesar study guide.

I liked the play so much I bought the text of the play the next day, and eagerly await this summer's production of Julius Caesar as part of PSF's 25th anniversary season. Patrick Mulcahy, who gave us a phenomenal Macbeth two seasons ago, will direct. Whatever direction he takes the play in, you know it is going to be good.