Review for 1001

This past week I watched the play showing at my university. I sort of forced my best friend to watch it with me, but it wasn't too bad. --

With Arabic music in the background, a seemingly plump character, called the One-Eyed Arab (Caitlin Gutches) walks onto the stage with a hookah in one hand and a pleasant smile on her face. She says, “Come, sit, want some tea? Sit and listen,” setting up an inviting aura and capturing the viewer’s interest almost instantaneously.
Jason Grote’s 1001, now playing at the L. Howard Fox Theatre in Montclair State University, is a delightful yet bewildering play, only $15.00 for non-students and free admission for students of the college.
Set in two very different times, Ancient Persia and modern day New York City, 1001 tells the tormenting tales of Scheherazade/Dahna (Whitney Shields) and Shahriyar/Alan (Joe Calafiore.) Bouncing between constantly changing sets due to the contrasting time periods, Scheherazade’s struggle to keep herself alive by telling stories to her murderous husband, Shahriyar deeply parallels Dahna’s struggle to keep her love with Alan alive, as she is Muslim and he is Jewish.
Gutches remarks at the end, “It is a very confusing play. I had to read it many times before I understood it, and I still don’t understand all of it. You’d have to read it a hundred more times to really understand it.” And as it is confusingly written, it was portrayed in the same likeness. The various stories told by Scheherazade throughout seem pointless, until the very end where much of the story comes together.
Opposing the traditional one or two main characters, the play has four main characters that are meant to be played by only two people. Whitney Shield’s (Scheherazade/Dahna) performance was enjoyable and executed well, as it was a difficult role. Joe Calafiore’s (Shahriyar/Alan) awkward stutters and humorous tendencies lightened the mood. But the One-Eyed Arab (Caitlin Gutches) emphatically “stole the show.” The accurate yet amusing accent along with carrying the hookah wherever she went, as well as the fact that she was not even one-eyed, made for an unforgettable minor character.
The costumes and props used were fairly decent, though the use of some of the same props in the vastly different settings can easily confuse. It is slightly unlikely that an ancient Persian sword can be found in every day New York City. Then again, it must be taken into account that this is a college production. The music and sound effects chosen were exceptional—they make you feel as if you are in Persia, or in the middle of Times Square.
Through an almost completely female cast, Montclair State’s production of Grote’s 1001 is overall an intriguing and perplexing play. And however puzzling it may be, it is certainly a play that is well worth watching.

The beginning of an end of a beginning of an end's beginning.

The beginning of a very long, exciting, tedious, hateful, wonderful piece. I'm really excited to be writing this. I'd be even more excited to have someone pay me to do this. Haha, enjoy.

Excerpt from my Myst story--

There are certain thoughts that cross your mind when you’re running out of a burning building. You might think about your family, or how they’ll feel when you’re gone. You might think about your kid, if you have one. Hell, you might even think about your dog and what in god’s name he’s gonna do if you end up dead. Regardless of what you think, though, that overwhelming thought of, “I got to get the fuck out of here,” trumps ‘em all.
And I will admit that was among my top five priorities for myself, but I wanted to get everyone out with me too. It just wouldn’t feel right if I survived knowing I didn’t do all I could to try to help someone…in that kind of situation. I don’t mean being all generous to just anyone. If they don’t deserve it; they don’t deserve it. Don’t question it too much. Even so, sometimes you have to help the undeserving. There’s always an off chance they’ll bounce back and realise the severity of what you’ve done; again, in a burning fire kind of situation, of course. But in general, if you only learn one thing from me, make it this—no one is utterly selfless, everyone one is completely selfish, and the way you go about that is making the best of it.
Anyway, when I say I was leaving a burning building I don’t mean it was a contained fire and fire-fighters showed up and we all walked out in single-file lines, (because single-file lines usually happen in those situations.) It was massive, the fire I mean, and it was mostly due to the fact that it wasn’t just one building on fire but several. For more than a few blocks all you could feel was the heaviness of the rapidly spreading smoke. And for miles off the island’s coast all you could see was the sky painted in blacks, reds, and oranges being quickly devoured by the silver grey smoke. There were distant sounds of police and ambulances, but they were futile really. It was New York City during rush hour, so it’d take at the very least an hour for them to get downtown, and I knew that. The bystanders looked at it with excitement or lack thereof, for anything was expected in the city. It was just another everyday occurrence.
I did try to find others, running in and out of rooms, even as that particular building was collapsing. I found one man. He looked like he was a janitor, wearing a grey jumpsuit and a threaded nametag that read, “John.” He was passed out, probably from smoke inhalation, so I just threw him across my back and kept on my way. And though I was very agile and fit, it was impossible to try to save so many people, even if I was stumbling upon less and less, which was either really good or really bad. I’m not sure. I should’ve just used my mind. But I didn’t know at the time. I didn’t know much then, come to think of it. But I’ll tell you this. And maybe you won’t judge me so much when you hear the full story, not that it matters much. I started the fire.
___
No one died, if that’s what you want to know. And the closest thing you’ll get to a why it happened in the first place from me is that I wanted to prove a point. I needed to prove a point. And with that fire, I did that, so it’s justified enough for me. I’m not looking for approval here. In fact, that’s the last thing on my mind. What I am now and what I was then are as similar and dissimilar as fire and ice.
I am that same person. I have that same heart and that same mind. I’m still that scared kid that wouldn’t let go of her brother’s hand when they said he had to leave. I’m all of that. But experience changes you. Life changes you. And I won’t say that I’m bitter. I’m too proud to say I’m bitter. But, there are some things, events, and people that will just never leave my mind. I really should’ve used my mind. But I’ve no space for regret inside.
I’m not looking for approval here.

Kick Ass & a poem.

So I went to see Kick Ass at the cinema last night, and I've got to say that I was pleasantly surprised. Normally, I'd be bitching about how they weren't true to this or to that mainly because I'm a huge Batman kid and they butcher Bats so bad in movies that I can't stand it anymore. And though Kick Ass the film wasn't exactly like the comic series, they did say it was "based off of the comic series by Mark Millar," which gives way for it to be a bit different. All in all, the music was effective and appropriate, the action was perfect, and the comedic parts fit in well. It is easy to see that there was much time and preparation put into the film, which makes me appreciate it that much more. So he gets the girl in the end in the film...who cares? Would you rather have had Katie think he's gay when he's just dying to kiss her? And I mean, that self-tan scene was killer...poor kid--if it were real and all. Nick Cage surprised me as well. I'd say it's the best role he's played in while. And I will just love anything Chris Mintz-Plasse is in--too cute. And I just loved Moretz in 500 Days of Summer (and everyone else in that movie.) So, she was a shoo-in. Aaron Johnson is a new one for me. But new, in this case, is quite good. I'm on the fence about his acting, but I will say that he has potential to be great. But, then again, who cares about my opinion, ey? I just know I couldn't take my eyes off the screen--that's how engrossed I was. And this is coming from someone that isn't much of a movie buff. Yes, I used the term movie buff.

And this is a favourite poem of mine. As in I wrote it, and recently too.

"Ace of Knaves"

And I don't know why
They rip you and depict you
In such ludicrous ways
Like you're evil,
Like you feel no
Pain
But I know better
I know your face is more than lines
And wrinkles and skin
But it bothers me
To high hell
And low heaven
How their pencils
Shade you and make you
Into a monster that you aren't
I'm not saying I understand
I'm saying I feel like I do
And that it's enough for me.



-Ivana.