Sep. 25th, 2012

sesquipedaliatic: Crazy.  We has it. (Default)
I saw Black Watch for the second time tonight (saw it Sunday, and then again today. Will likely see it at least once more while it's here. Yes, it's that good). Tonight's show was much stronger than Sunday's; it seems the cast settled into their physicality more tonight, and were far more comfortable in their space. We're the production stop for the tour, so this is the first time they've performed in an unfamiliar space, and they're working out the kinks still (that's what a production stop is for!). Sunday was the end of their first week of performances, but here at the start of week two, everything is MUCH smoother.

When I saw the show on Sunday, I was so absorbed in the technical elements that I didn't engage particularly well with the people on stage. Don't get me wrong; I saw the show again tonight specifically because I loved it so much the first go 'round. I knew about "Fashion" before I saw the show, but was still astonished by what amounts to a 2 minute quick change sequence--performed entirely by actors, with continuous monologue by the actor being changed--that tells the history of the Scottish military, and it was just as spectacular as I could have hoped. On Sunday, I noticed the smoothness of quick changes (both on and off stage) and the variety of sound sources. Tonight, I noticed one man's hand shake during the Letter's Home section and another man press his fingertips to his dead comrade's head before lifting his body.

My very favorite thing to see on a stage is people physically interacting, and Black Watch gives me everything I could possibly want and more. "Ten Second Fights" and "Parade" both left me with fingernail-shaped indents in my arms. They're both such intense and overwhelming sequences that I had to hold on to something. That intensity is something I've only every experienced in live theatre. I'm overwhelmed with Feelings, but it's so much more than getting flaily over, well, any other media. I can feel my heart rate kick up and my breathing get shallow. I can feel the adrenalin and endorphins in the way my hands shake even as I clutch my chair, or arms, or neighbor. I leave the theatre with knuckles bruised from where I've bitten them, unaware of what I'm doing but desperate for some sort of outlet. Even writing this has made my heart beat faster.

Blaaaarg. As is so often the case with trying to put theatre-based emotions into words, I suspect I'm just talking in circles here. And so, to bed.

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