Journal Entries
A Clockwork Orange (II)
Posted Jun 7, 2000
The opening scenes of violence, murder and a brutal gang rape are shocking, but they were meant to be. As the director explained in a talk after the performance, his aim was to get people on the edge of their seats, caught between staying and walking out. Some members of the audience were tipped over that edge and did, indeed, walk out. I, like the majority of the predominantly young, student audience that only half filled the auditorium, stayed, transfixed in horrid fascination.
A Clockwork Orange, as presented by the Northern Stage Ensemble, is not a comfortable play, but it is stylish and perfectly choreographed. A mixture of live performance, video projection of film shot by Mark Murphy and loud music serves to produce an atmosphere of menace and confusion. Surprisingly, for me, the play is not without humour. This is found in the caricature costumes of some of the supporting characters. The nurses’ uniforms and some of the shoes must have been sourced from the local fetishware shop. The primary character, Alex, and his three Droogs, by contrast, are dressed in contemporary streetware, combats and T-shirts.
The play takes us through the violence, Alex’s aversion therapy ‘cure’, his manipulation by political groups and his eventual overcoming of the effects of the therapy, in graphic style. Unlike Kubrick’s film and the original US edition of the book however, this play ends with the final chapter of the Burgess original. Having been cured of the cure Alex does return briefly to violence but renounces it as he reaches maturity. This is not some glib moral ending however:
‘Yes, yes, yes, there it was. Youth must go, ah yes. But youth is only being in a way like it might be an animal. Not, it is not just like being an animal so much as being like one of those malenky toys you viddy being sold in the streets, like little chellokovs made out of tin and with a spring inside and then a winding handle on the outside and you wind it up grrr grrr grrr and off it itties, like walking, O my brothers. But it itties in a straight line and bangs straight into things bang bang and it cannot help what it is doing. Being young is like being one of these malenky machines. My son, my son. When I had my son I would explain all that to him when he was starry enough to like understand. But then I knew he would not understand or would not want to understand at all and would do all the veshches I had done, yes perhaps even killing some poor starry forella surrounded with mewing kots and koshas, and I would not be able to really stop him. And nor would he be able to stop his own son, brothers. And so it would itty on to the end of the world, round and round and round, like some bolshy gigantic like chelloveck, like old Bog Himself (by coutesy of Korova Milkbar) turning and turning and turning a vonny grahzny orange in his gigantic rookers. But first of all brothers, there was this veshch of finding some devotchka or other who would be a mother to his son. I would have to start on that tomorrow, I kept thinking. That was like something new to do. That was something I would have to get started on, a new like chapter beginning.’
From the first challenging ‘What’s it going to be then, eh?’ to the final, reflective soliloquy this performance rocks.
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Latest reply: Jun 7, 2000
A Clockwork Orange
Posted Jun 6, 2000
I'm off to see the stage show this evening. Never having read the book or seen the film I'll let you know what I think tomorrow 
.
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Latest reply: Jun 6, 2000
A change of pace
Posted Jun 1, 2000
In contrast to the John Mayall concert on Sunday night, Wednesday night found me heading up to our local Arts Centre to see Rick Payne. This accomplished acoustic bluesman delivered a competent set to a small audience. My enjoyment was ably assisted by Jack Daniels and a couple of bottles of Newcastle Brown . The style ranged from straight 12 bar through slide to a couple of rag-time blues by Big Bill Broonzy. I wouldn't cross burning coals to see this guy but it was a good way to spend a wet Wednesday night .
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Latest reply: Jun 1, 2000
Cuisine and Culture
Posted Jun 1, 2000
Saturday 27th May 2000
First stop Carluccio’s Café. Take the Bakerloo line to Oxford Circus from Waterloo and walk towards C&A. Go behind C&A across a couple of small streets and there it is, decked out in classic blue and white Carluccio style. Walk through the shop selling numerous varieties of olive oil, pastas and other mouth-watering comestibles and wait to be seated at the square café style tables for two or the long communal tables. A large glass of a very acceptable Pinot Grigio for me, and a glass of Montepeluciano D’Abrruzzio for my better 7/8ths , along with a bottle of still water to share. A bowl of mixed olives, shared, my better 7/8ths followed with Focaccia with mozzarella, tomato and basil. It was pasta con funghi for me, after all Antonio Carluccio is famous for his wild mushroom cuisine , although perhaps a little too much salt to be called perfect this time. Total price, including tip, £25-00.
On then to our prime objective of the day, Tate Modern, the latest Museum of Modern Art in London ( http://www.tate.org.uk/modern/ ). The route from Waterloo is a familiar one, I had passed the de-commissioned Bankside Powerstation many times before, with the re-constructed Globe theatre nestling in its shadow. As we rounded the corner we noticed the queue, but what can you expect for a new attraction on a Bank Holiday Saturday. Resigned but determined we found our way to the end of the snaking line of people being marshalled by gallery staff in bright yellow fluorescent jackets. Twenty minutes later we were entering the vast expanse of the old turbine hall to look up at Louise Bourgois’ Giant Spider, and on through to the three enormous tower sculptures, I Do, I Undo, I Redo. Monumental sculpture for a monumental space, but this is not a permanent exhibit. I will have to go again to see the next exhibition to fill this hall.
Unlike say, San Fransisco MoMA ( http://www.sfmoma.org/ ) which was purpose built, or the Musee D’Orsay in Paris ( http://www.musee-orsay.fr/ ) which was converted from a grand railway station, Tate Modern retains the hard industrial edge which reflects its provenance. The flooring is uncompromising concrete or un-varnished wood, girders and piping remain exposed and the light boxes which surround the gallery windows looking into the turbine hall seem to have an industrial purposefulness.
Having made a closer inspection of the Giant Spider we decided to work down from the top and so took the escalator up to floor 5. One of the first sights to greet us was Rodin’s The Kiss. This was to be the first of many real life experiences of well known pieces including a number of Dali paintings and the (in)famous ‘Equivalent VIII’ two layers of firebricks by Carl Andre.
There are far too many exhibits in the three floors of galleries and exhibitions to describe them all but a few stand out in my memory. Mario Merz’s Igloo displayed in Structures for Survival provides a hemispheric frame of metal with occasional slabs of natural slate suspended on the frame. Large glass shards provide the entrance tunnel, a contradiction. The four mirrored cubes of Robert Morris’s untitled work, in which the observer becomes, by reflection, part of the work. Cornelia Parker’s Cold Dark Matter: An Exploded View, a mass of suspended objects with a single large lightbulb in the middle providing illumination. Finally, Lightening with Stag in its Glare, by Joseph Beuys. The huge suspended slab of aluminium suggests the raw power of lightening, the stag, not lifelike but sufficiently recognisable.
Three and a half hours was both enough time and not enough time. We headed back to Waterloo, stopping at a small back street pub I had occasionally visited, in my previous life working up here, for a quick pint. From Waterloo, the Northern Line to Euston and from there a short walk to the Diwana Bel Puri in Drummond Street. My wife had been promising to take me to this small Indian Vegetarian restaurant for some time. It is not licensed so there was a quick diversion to the off-licence next door for a couple of bottles of cold Cobra. The décor is basic, varnished pine tables and pine cladding on the walls. The clientele is mixed, indian families, caucasian couples, all life is here.
We ordered a Thali each, the most expensive on the menu at £6 . For those not familiar with Indian restaurants (at least in the UK), a Thali is a metal tray with the food served in small metal bowls. This one was a complete meal with small onion bhaji’s, rice, dhal (a lentil curry), two other vegetable curries, 3 chapati’s, and the best srikhand (a strained yoghurt dessert lightly spiced with saffron and cardamom) I have ever tasted. Total bill £12 plus the Cobra from the off-licence. Replete and happy we returned to Waterloo for the train home and an evening savouring the memories of an interesting day.
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Latest reply: Jun 1, 2000
The week-end
Posted May 30, 2000
26th - 29th May 2000
I will tell you all about my week-end...eventually . It began on Friday night when I finally got to watch the end of The English Patient. An intriguing film with some spectacular shots of bi-planes flying over the desert. I liked it. I'm working on the entry for the rest of the week-end.
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Latest reply: May 30, 2000
BluesSlider
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