I just watched this in my office and actually applauded at the end.
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Thursday, July 19, 2007
Friday, June 8, 2007
Spectacle indeed.

A Southern Spectacle
Actor's Playhouse presents a Williams classic
By Cheree Franco
Special to Rankin Ledger
In A Streetcar Named Desire, native Mississippian Tennessee Williams crafted an ambitious drama, layered with witty symbolism, lust, lies and Southern decorum.
And Actor's Playhouse in Pearl, where Williams' play will be performed this month, is no stranger to ambition.
Photos of past productions - Les Misérables, Chicago and The Sound of Music - line the corrugated walls of this warehouse-turned-theater. The current enthusiasm onstage, as the actors wisecrack their way through a tenuous rehearsal - their first "off script" - promises a unique take on Williams' classic.
Kristi Johnson, a daytime education administrator in the surgical department at the University of Mississippi Medical Center, has spent recent evenings blocking sets and coaching actors, as the director of the Playhouse's upcoming performance of Streetcar.
"I'm really focusing on the theme of self-preservation," she explained. "Stanley is openly designated 'animal,' but every one of these characters is motivated by the basic instinct to 'kill or be killed.' They each stand to lose something that defines their existence."
Explaining the character he portrays, Clif Kirkland said, "Stanley's only thought is to remove the threat" posed by Blanche's visit and her haughty appraisal of his "vulgar" lifestyle.
After a pause, Kirkland added, "He always has to be right about everything. I'm not sure Stanley's very likable."
A police officer at Hinds Community College, Kirkland took part in the school's recent production of Much Ado About Nothing.
"I'm still riding that high, so I wanted to get back to the stage as soon as possible," he said. "That's why I auditioned for Streetcar."
"My character's likeable," Andy Achord interjected. "Mitch is a good person in a play of confused characters."
A busy dentist, Achord pursues acting as a retreat from the daily grind. He was drawn to Streetcar, his third show with Actor's Playhouse, because of its Southern setting.
"This play is an actor's play in every sense," Johnson notes. "It gives the actors a chance to challenge themselves, sink their teeth into a character and experience that may be disturbing and difficult to address."
Or, as Annie Cleveland put it, "Streetcar is a real show that means something. It's hard as a young adult to get a show like this."
The remaining key cast members, Cleveland and Kerri Courtney, playing Stella and Blanche respectively, are pursuing careers in theater.
"It's fun to be onstage, to step into someone else's skin for a purpose. To be able to influence an audience, that's the coolest thing," Courtney said.
A sophomore at Belhaven, she is already an eight-year theater veteran.
Cleveland, a high school senior, credits her dramatic education to Murrah's Academic and Performing Arts Complex program. She plans to study theater at the University of Southern Mississippi.
"At first I did not want to be in front of people, but a friend drug me to an audition in eighth grade, and I ended up liking it," she said. "Somehow, you're saying words that are not your words, but it's still so personal and powerful because you're connecting with people."
Tennessee Williams may be powerful, but he's also intimidating, Johnson said.
"The audience expects so much when they come to see this play," he said. "This is my directorial debut, so I'm learning as I go, but I've got a talented cast, and I'm fortunate to have the guidance and support of Lavonne Bruckner," Actor's Playhouse artistic director.
Courtney said Bruckner is doing great things with the Pearl theater.
"There's so much talent in Mississippi, and Actor's Playhouse is a perfect venue to showcase that," Courtney said.
Other than the fact that my quotes were badly paraphrased, pretty neat. And that pic? Awful.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
From Saturday at rehearsal
The men fallen to the wayside.
Sad casualties of the stifling RED.
Everything beautiful is gone.
Broken and charred, I stumble out,
grey encroaches the white.
I am. I was. I will.
And this.
June light as the moonlight,
expanses of cotton dully glow,
cigarettes alight, laughter illuminates the night.
I take her towards the bridge,
the revelers noise and figures growing dim.
Day-Glo spraypainted messages--
(Tom '86--Utica goes down--I love C.W.)
--hardly visible in the dark.
The cold should breed unease--
but she is warm, and offers invitation I am unable to accept.
Sad casualties of the stifling RED.
Everything beautiful is gone.
Broken and charred, I stumble out,
grey encroaches the white.
I am. I was. I will.
And this.
June light as the moonlight,
expanses of cotton dully glow,
cigarettes alight, laughter illuminates the night.
I take her towards the bridge,
the revelers noise and figures growing dim.
Day-Glo spraypainted messages--
(Tom '86--Utica goes down--I love C.W.)
--hardly visible in the dark.
The cold should breed unease--
but she is warm, and offers invitation I am unable to accept.
Friday, May 4, 2007
Por Segunda.
Been a bit longer than I would have liked. Well, I'm here now, ain't I? So how about it?
I've been cast as Stanley Kowalski in the Actor's Playhouse production of "A Streetcar Named Desire." He's pretty easy to find. I'm gonna try and add a little snakiness to him. Luckily, I've never seen the play performed, so no one else's reading of Stanley will color my own. I'm excited. I like play-acting. I hope someone actually comes to see me in this one. Looking back, I'm glad no one came to "Much Ado About Nothing." I had such high hopes for it, and it turned out so badly. So badly.
I've been cast as Stanley Kowalski in the Actor's Playhouse production of "A Streetcar Named Desire." He's pretty easy to find. I'm gonna try and add a little snakiness to him. Luckily, I've never seen the play performed, so no one else's reading of Stanley will color my own. I'm excited. I like play-acting. I hope someone actually comes to see me in this one. Looking back, I'm glad no one came to "Much Ado About Nothing." I had such high hopes for it, and it turned out so badly. So badly.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
A Thousand Miles From Nowhere
Put on a playlist and see-a where goes. It was a good show last night, the last one. Another week and I would've really started grooving. I wasn't mobbed like the last time, but I got a few sideways double takes, and a few spoke up sincerely. The best was from her old man. He was surprised by what he found. Very impressed. Said my performance was understated, which in my cutting mind seemed like a swipe at other performances. ( Editor's note: Strike this line. Or don't.) Almost made the whole thing worthwhile.
I talked with a kid last night about his writing. He's a good scribe, but is scared to write, scared to send it out. I told him to read four hours a day and write four hours a day. I've read four hours today myself, now I'm just looking for a seed. I could write what I know, but what I know right now isn't very readable. Hope the music can take me, but it's never done so before. I should jump. Geronimo! (Gah!) Here:
I lit out for the holler just before ten that night. It was a good a time as any. I had heard the weather was going to be biblical, and while it had gotten there for a short while that morning, it hadn't returned. I had hoped it could forestall the inevitable, but, now, go NOW, no time is a good time.
I hadn't been to the holler since leaving for good (I hoped, I thought) after the old man died. It was never a good place for me. Not never. Once. Yes, it was once.
I didn't know if it was still a bitch to poke your way into, and I hoped my car would make it. I would probably find both questions to be answered yes. Some things can't help but be done.
Continued.
Eh, maybe I won't continue it. It has no where to go, and my eyes are crossing from reading case law all weekend.
I talked with a kid last night about his writing. He's a good scribe, but is scared to write, scared to send it out. I told him to read four hours a day and write four hours a day. I've read four hours today myself, now I'm just looking for a seed. I could write what I know, but what I know right now isn't very readable. Hope the music can take me, but it's never done so before. I should jump. Geronimo! (Gah!) Here:
I lit out for the holler just before ten that night. It was a good a time as any. I had heard the weather was going to be biblical, and while it had gotten there for a short while that morning, it hadn't returned. I had hoped it could forestall the inevitable, but, now, go NOW, no time is a good time.
I hadn't been to the holler since leaving for good (I hoped, I thought) after the old man died. It was never a good place for me. Not never. Once. Yes, it was once.
I didn't know if it was still a bitch to poke your way into, and I hoped my car would make it. I would probably find both questions to be answered yes. Some things can't help but be done.
Continued.
Eh, maybe I won't continue it. It has no where to go, and my eyes are crossing from reading case law all weekend.
Monday, April 9, 2007
Rainy day...feel like I'm winning...just can't get it back...
I'm faced with the possibility of some major changes in the next few weeks, months, I don't know. Maybe nothing, but I need to keep en pointe. Anyway, I'm probably to where I can finally finish writing "She." If it's anything that can be finished anyway. Try this on for size.
I was not created, Shiva, the destroyer,
shatterer of worlds.
I came from parts, and past, I had to be born,
I am genetic.
God forbid generic. (editor's note: corny!)
I forget I am, what I am.
Demanded and allowed to be otherwise
Never forget, never deny,
then you can never cry. (Teehee!) (editor's note: none, you appear to have addressed it.)
I SOOO me!
Do you like?
As is, no warranty?
Caveat emptor.
Lemon laws do not apply,
you cannot invoke.
We knew that summer.
We knew the next.
We knew yesterday.
We'll know tomorrow.
There are no receipts. (editor's note: i before e except after c, motherfucker!)
There are no returns.
These goods are not gently used.
These goods are damaged.
Well? Yeah, fuck you, it's a start. Work in progress.
I was not created, Shiva, the destroyer,
shatterer of worlds.
I came from parts, and past, I had to be born,
I am genetic.
God forbid generic. (editor's note: corny!)
I forget I am, what I am.
Demanded and allowed to be otherwise
Never forget, never deny,
then you can never cry. (Teehee!) (editor's note: none, you appear to have addressed it.)
I SOOO me!
Do you like?
As is, no warranty?
Caveat emptor.
Lemon laws do not apply,
you cannot invoke.
We knew that summer.
We knew the next.
We knew yesterday.
We'll know tomorrow.
There are no receipts. (editor's note: i before e except after c, motherfucker!)
There are no returns.
These goods are not gently used.
These goods are damaged.
Well? Yeah, fuck you, it's a start. Work in progress.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
So I go, I go.
I've moved my blog from MySpace to Blogger, so if you're here from there, I did my job of letting yer know. Love you too. All the old stuff should be here shortly. I'm not sure if I'm going to delete it from my MySpace page or not. Regardless, I will not continue posting there. No real reason, just, why not, right? Maybe I can connect?
By the way, has anyone that's here on Blogger tried "Adsense"? If so, let me know how it worked out.
By the way, has anyone that's here on Blogger tried "Adsense"? If so, let me know how it worked out.
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