Fast Intent presents Zelda

Before she was Zelda Fitzgerald, she was Zelda Sayre. Before she was a Riviera socialite, she was a Southern belle. Before she was F Scott’s crazy tormentor, she was his beloved muse. And both personae are explored in Eddie Naughton’s new play, Zelda, based on Zelda’s life and own writings.

I’ve been poring over Blake Bailey’s biography of Richard Yates (A Tragic Honesty) again recently, and was struck by the notion that Yates had modelled himself so much on the doomed F Scott as a writer that his entire life started to slide into equal drink-fuelled catastrophe. Yates, of course, was compounding his own mental illness with drinking that erased his medication’s benefit; and Zelda’s own slide into madness was not dissimilar. But there’s another striking note in Bailey’s book; the idea that every writer has some essential tale to tell, that can be disguised in any number of interesting ways – but will always be at the core of their best work. For F Scott, that was his love for the unattainable Zelda; and The Great Gatsby was F Scott spinning out that epic romance into a piercing continent-encompassing metaphor.

Naughton’s play strips away the Daisy Buchanan facade to examine the real woman in a script which puts Zelda in a hospital room telling her story. Zelda Sayre was a Southern belle who became internationally famous alongside her husband F Scott Fitzgerald whose stunning debut This Side of Paradise mythologised their romance; casting Zelda as the archetypal flapper. Their life together was a never-ending parade of alcohol-fuelled jazz-scored parties, with F Scott’s talent keeping them in a luxurious lifestyle; in New York, Paris and the Riviera; previously reserved for the self-indulgent robber barons. Friends with Cole Porter, Hemingway and Dorothy Parker, a writer and painter, dancer and mother, it should never have ended in a fiery death at a psychiatric hospital; but such was the price of alcoholism and escalating mental illness. Naughton resurrects the biting wit before that curtain.

Zelda seems a perfect fit for Fast Intent. Fast Intent was set up in 2011 by director Sarah Finlay and actors Ger Adlum and Nessa Matthews. Their previous productions include Harold Pinter’s Ashes to Ashes (The Complex), Family Voices and One for the Road (New Theatre), Jean Anouilh’s The Lark and William Shakespeare’s Macbeth (both Smock Alley), and an adaptation of Dracula for the Bram Stoker Festival at Dublin Castle; part of a residency there which included Shakespeare by Candlelight in December and a series of monologues for Culture Night in September. Zelda joins Joan of Arc as another radical heroine for Fast Intent to explore in their pared down style that focuses on ideas and emotions. Zelda is performed by Sharon Coade, directed by Sarah Finlay, and produced by Gerard Adlum and KH T’*, with Lights, Sound, and Set design by Eoghan Carrick, Nessa Matthews, and Aoife Fealy respectively.

Zelda runs at Theatre Upstairs from Tuesday the 3^rd of June to Saturday 14^th. Performances are at 1pm, Tuesday to Saturday, when the ticket price of €10 includes a light lunch. There are 7pm performances from Thursday to Saturday. Bookings can be made at http://www.theatreupstairs.ie.

X-Men: Days of Future Past 3-D

Director Bryan Singer triumphantly returns to the franchise he launched in 2000 to link two ensembles together for one of the classic Claremont/Byrne comics stories.

Professor X (Patrick Stewart) narrates a Terminator 2 cold open as dead bodies are piled amidst rubble while machines hunt down and kill mutants and humans. Can this war of extinction be won by changing the past? X, Magneto (Ian McKellen), Storm (Halle Berry), and Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) travel to a Chinese monastery where mutants familiar [Iceman (Shawn Ashmore), Colossus (Daniel Cudmore)] and strange [Blink (Fan BingBing), whose portal-creating power is visually intricate] are kept one step ahead of Sentinels by Kitty Pryde (Ellen Page), who uses her powers to send the consciousness of Bishop (Omar Sy) back thru time. Defeating the Sentinels means preventing Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence) assassinating Bolivar Trask (Peter Dinklage) at the 1973 Paris Peace Accords, then being captured by Major Stryker (Josh Helman); actions which kick-start the program and see her DNA make the Sentinels unstoppable. Only Wolverine can physically survive the time-shift, but in 1973 he is reliant on the broken men Charles (James McAvoy) and Beast (Nicholas Hoult) patching up their differences with the imprisoned Erik (Michael Fassbender). But might the past be immutable?

The X-movies are a farrago of continuity, and this instalment ignores that (Wolverine has adamantium claws? Professor X has his own body?). It’s a sequel toFirst Class, with Charles and Erik rejoining battle for Mystique’s soul; as a wonderful exchange has it – “You got inside her head.” “That’s not my power, Charles.” The future, with Sentinels attacking like The Matrix’s squiddies, is mostly a glorified framing device; but its startling killing of characters in the prologue establishes the stakes. The past is a foreign country; where Singer displays X-2 vim. Beast acts as Q in freeing Erik, Wolverine gets two wonderful sight gags, and there’s a delightful nod to the parentage of Quicksilver (Evan Peters). The fast-talking Quicksilver’s mischievous liberation of Erik is the outstanding action sequence; it’s like watching Seth Cohen wielding superpowers. Erik’s curving of a bullet at the Paris summit is thrilling, as is the idea that time is course-correcting their meddling. But Page has precious little to do, and the great Fassbender is overshadowed by McAvoy and Jackman as they get all the best lines.

This lands somewhere around X-2 and First Class, but I preferred First Class because Erik was less muddled. The future comes into play in the finale, and Magneto battling future sentinels while Erik manipulates old sentinels is a brilliant cross-cutting of action sequences to interrogate character; questioning the ability of people to change even as the future characters hope their younger selves will change. Lawrence (more recognisable as Mystique than Rebecca Romijn ever was) is a world of swagger away from First Class; Mystique is a driven and accomplished spy. She wants to kill Bolivar for murdering her friends just like Erik wanted to vengefully kill Shaw. Charles once again is opposed to such motives. But in First Class Erik flung missiles back at people, here his villainy becomes incomprehensibly pre-emptive; as if the Singer special sequence where he retrieves his helmet unleashes a need for flair; the option of silent sabotage of the Sentinel programme doesn’t cut it, when you can (undoubtedly quite counter-productively) stage a stadium-sized spectacle of terrorism. But this is quibbling about what is only the third superb X-movie in the series: an intricate, thoughtful adventure in which Singer returns from the wilderness with surprising confidence.

The ending made me think of the Doctor’s emphatic lines at the end of Moffat’s Doctor Who Blitz story in 2005. And after suffering thru X-3 we surely all deserve that calibre of resolution.

4/5

Hill Street

New Irish documentary Hill Street is a fascinating look at the early years of the Irish skateboarding scene trying to legitimise itself as a sport in economically grim 1980s Ireland.

Director JJ Rolfe interweaves the evolution of skateboarding culture in Dublin since the 1980s with a parallel strand of talking heads from America explaining the sequential 1950s craze for DIY skateboarding, the use by surfers of drained swimming pools to get airborne, and Tony Hawk’s rise to fame. The initial driving force here was a BMX shop ‘Clive’s of Hill Street’ in the North inner city. Soon Clive Rowen’s BMX business was subsumed by skateboards, home-made ramps outside the shop, a practise room beside the shop, and eventually a temporary skate park in the Top Hat Ballroom in Dún Laoghaire. Eventually the Powell Peralta ‘Bones Brigade’ Team, including the legendary Tony Hawk, visited that skate park for a historic show. This tale is told thru interviews with all the original skaters, along with unseen footage of them in the 1980s.

Hill Street is a very enjoyable movie. Rolfe makes great use of the essentially cinematic nature of skateboarding from the opening sequence (tracking alongside a skateboarder tricking his way across the city and its bridges) onwards. The skateboarder’s view as he sails past people waiting to cross a street is rendered akin to the view of a tracking camera, and later we see how some of the 1980s footage was actually shot by people holding cameras on skateboards racing alongside other skateboards as they did tricks. Rolfe also presents sustained sequences of skateboards in action over ramps accompanied with a superb original score that renders everything dreamily hypnotic and conveys the artistry that Tony Hawk claims for the sport. Rolfe’s interviewees are all passionate and articulate, and footage from the 1980s and 1990s is a great time capsule of nostalgia.

There is one potentially interesting strand that is introduced but never really developed. Hill Street is so focused on celebrating the stubbornness and nonconformity of the skateboarders; these individuals who refused to play soccer or Gaelic like the vast majority of their peers; that it never addresses the hilarious paradox of them not being team players but defiantly being individuals – who then all needed a place to hang out together (being individuals en masse), which they found at Clive’s. Hill Street also never truly grapples with the realities of why security guards; at banks, offices, and colleges; would always chase away these loveable ragamuffin teenagers. The montage of spectacularly painful crashes over the credits suggests one line about ‘kids suing for injuries’ urgently needed to be a serious discussion, rather than being treated as a blooper reel of bone-crunching disasters…

Hill Street is a very well made and enjoyable documentary, especially if your only experience with skateboarders was their intimidation of UCD at weekends.

3.5/5

X-Men: Days of Live Premieres

It’s got an ensemble cast that’s truly mouth-watering, the return of Bryan Singer after 11 years away from the X-director’s chair, and a storyline derived from one of Claremont and Byrne’s most revered runs on the comics title: and now, to increase the hype levels even more, the X-cast are going to globetrot around the world to premiere the movie…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GxNS0vUB1Pc&feature=youtu.be

Beginning May 10^th the cast will start premiering the movie around the globe in the X-Men X-perience. Hugh Jackman’s obviously going to land in Melbourne, and he may well do so via Asia, while the rest of the globe spread from London all over the world. It’s unclear yet if Michael Fassbender will be able to drag enough of his colleagues from the London premiere to Dublin for a separate premiere, but we can only hope he and James McAvoy travel. An event like Russell Crowe’s eccentric Noah trek around the Celtic capitals doesn’t happen every day of the week.

And just in case you’ve forgotten why you should be excited here’s the trailer for X-Men: Days of Future Past using Led Zeppelin’s imperious ‘Kashmir’.

As I’ve written before I’m both excited and nostalgic for this film because I regard it as the X-3 we always deserved, and have now eventually got. In a dystopian future, where homo superior has been decimated by the Sentinels of Bolivar Trask (Peter Dinklage), Kitty Pryde (Ellen Page) sends Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) back into the past at the bidding of a reunited Professor X (Patrick Stewart) and Magneto (Ian McKellen) to try and alter history by effecting a rapprochement of their younger selves (James McAvoy, Michael Fassbender) in the 1970s. X-Men: First Class was for me the 2^nd best film of 2011 (only beaten by the devastating Canadian drama Incendies), and I’m hoping this will be not just the blockbuster of the summer, but the film of the year. Fingers and bone claws crossed.

Star Wars on Grafton Street

So, Domhnall Gleeson is playing a lead role in the new Stars Wars trilogy (He’s Luke Skywalker’s son. Just kidding, he’s not. He totally is), and, almost in his honour, this bank holiday weekend Stormtroopers will descend on Grafton Street…

It’s old news that George Lucas made his money from Star Wars by hanging onto the merchandising and sequel rights, which nobody at the studio cared about in the 1970s. Well, everybody cares now. And Disney in buying the rights to the Star Wars film franchise for a fantastic amount of money were never thinking they’d earn back that outlay with a new trilogy; especially not given that JJ Abrams, beloved though he is, has to win back the trust of a substantial chunk of the following after the disastrous prequels. No, they knew the return would come from merchandising.

So it begins… Disney Stores now for the first time have a Star Wars range available. Star Wars Stormtroopers will be at the Disney Store on Grafton Street this weekend for anyone with a burning desire to get taken into imperial custody, at least in a photo. The range of Star Wars products for all ages includes action figures, luggage bags, children’s dress-up, and a range of apparel, stationery and plushies. The new offerings (with prices ranging from €10 – €48) includes Saga Legends action figures (Mace Windu, Anakin, Obi-Wan, Shock Trooper, Super Battle Droid and R4-P17), extending light-sabres, Chewbacca plushies, Star Wars Stormtrooper t-shirts, and, my personal favourite, a Darth Vader voice changer helmet. (Want…) Fans will also have the opportunity to purchase exclusive 15 inch talking figurines (Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo or Stormtroopers) for €30 at select stores and online. Visit www.disneystore.ie to see the full range.

To celebrate the launch of this line, Disney Stores are tying in, via a major in-store, online and social media campaign, with #starwarsday, May the 4^th, the global fan-driven celebration of all things Star Wars. Disney Store guests can enter a competition to win 12 collector cards based on A New Hope and an exclusive Star Wars pin. From 2^nd– 4^th May Disney Store guests can take part in ‘Ways of the Force’, providing children with the opportunity to learn some of the skills of the Jedi including how to use a light-sabre. All children of course already know how to make the sound of a light-sabre in action. Stormtroopers will be making appearances throughout the day at Disney Store on Grafton Street tomorrow between 9:00am and 6:00pm to meet fans. Even more Star Wars events are planned for later in the year to celebrate the launch of the much-anticipated animated series Star Wars Rebels, when further product lines will launch with the series premiere on Disney in the autumn.

And this is only the beginning. Right now someone somewhere is probably figuring out how best to render Domhnall Gleeson’s head as a soft toy.

Twelfth Night

Wayne Jordan tackles Shakespeare’s serious comedy and the result is nearly three and a half hours of mystifying directorial decisions.

If music be the food of love, play on

Viola (Sophie Robinson) and her ship’s Captain (Muiris Crowley) are washed up on the shores of Illyria. Her twin brother Sebastian having drowned, Viola adopts his wardrobe to become a male courtier to Duke Orsino (Barry John O’Connor); quickly being favoured above long-suffering Valentine (Elaine Fox). The Duke is in love with the widowed Olivia (Natalie Radmall-Quirke), who’ll have nothing to do with him. Olivia is also fending off the suit of Sir Andrew Aguecheek (Mark Lambert), friend of her dissolute cousin Sir Toby Belch (Nick Dunning). Her court is split between the punctiliousness of Malvolio (Mark O’Halloran) and the buffoonery of Sir Toby, with the Fool Feste (Ger Kelly) and Fabian (Lloyd Cooney) siding with Toby, especially when Olivia’s servant Maria (Ruth McGill) devises a prank to humble Malvolio. But Sebastian (Gavin Fullam) did not drown, he was saved by Antonio (Conor Madden), and their arrival causes comedic chaos…

That at least was what Shakespeare wrote, but it’s not what Jordan renders onstage. The opening line ‘If music be the food of love, play on’ is taken a bit … literally: 5 massive speakers are wheeled out onto the stage and Orsino plays raucous music on a mandolin plugged into them. It’s unfortunately reminiscent of the start of Michael Jackson’s ‘Black or White’ video… The speakers are (saving a fridge, table and chairs) all the set Ciaran O’Melia provides, and they’re redundant for most of the action. When active they provide comedy extraneous to the text: playing ‘Sexy Boy’ for the Duke parading his Freddie Mercury cloak, and Rage Against the Machine for Sir Toby standing on a table shouting profanities until the music is turned off. Sir Toby also gets a gong sounded when he does the crane pose during a fight, and he leads Feste and Sir Andrew in a barbershop version of ‘Firestarter’. These are all funny only by virtue of being inappropriate, but if you can’t find comedy within Shakespeare why stage him? Why not set Twelfth Night in Manhattan and sprinkle it with Woody Allen one-liners to get laughs?

This is the third Jordan Abbey production I’ve suffered thru after Alice in Funderland and The Plough and the Stars, and he apparently has no idea of pacing. Twelfth Night starts at 730 and runs until 1055 with one interval. It’s a romantic comedy, and it’s nearly 3 ½ hours long… The mark of a confident director of Shakespeare is their willingness to cut the Bard’s text. Instead Jordan inserts material: the insistence on having everyone listen while one character sings a song makes you feel you’ve wandered into some Cameron Crowe nightmare. The ‘brave’ anti-Catholicism of Alice is also in evidence, as, unheeding of Calvary’s critique of the blanket vilification of priests, Jordan decides that the priest interrogating Malvolio should be played by Feste adopting a thick Kerry accent. His appearance being preceded by a jibe from Shakespeare produces the bizarre spectacle of English Anti-Catholicism enacted via Irish Anti-Catholicism.

And then there’s Jordan’s queering of Shakespeare and weak casting… Robinson fails to project the necessary comic vivacity as Viola, indeed by the finale Viola has become a petulant teenager, and her Northern accent does not synch with Fullam playing her ‘identical’ twin Sebastian at all. But internal logic isn’t much of a concern in this production. Sebastian is introduced in bed with Antonio (in their tiny whiteys, as everyone must appear in their underwear), as a very literal reading of a few lines of dialogue is used to make them a gay couple. But Jordan wants us to applaud this enlightened reading while at the same time having Valentine play pantomime shocked when she sees it, which is just ridiculously smug back-slapping: much like Alice’s ‘satire’, Jordan appears to think he’s scandalising an audience of Eisenhower and DeValera stalwarts. And then with massive illogicality Fullam’s fey mannerisms as Sebastian are instantly dropped for an enthusiastic sexual relationship with Olivia. Sebastian is either inconsistent or opportunistic, and faithful Antonio is totally shafted by Sebastian’s marriage to Olivia, who herself is played as obviously still in love with Viola in her female guise. Internal logic schlogic…

The obvious saving grace of this production is the great Mark O’Halloran as Malvolio. He is very funny, especially in convincing himself by crazy leaps of logic that Olivia has written him a love letter. His hysterical appearance in a full yellow-bodysuit underneath his suit is perhaps over-egging the comic pudding, but it’s saved by the perverse dignity with which he replaces his glasses over his hooded head. Radmall-Quirke also exudes that quality of perverse dignity in fending off Malvolio, and the gradual softening of her icy facade is well played. Ger Kelly is also a splendid physical presence as Feste, and his delivery of Fool’s wit sparkling. The impulse to go too far is intermittently present in Lambert’s drunken Sir Andrew, but his outraged vanity gets the biggest laugh out of the script Shakespeare actually wrote. Dunning, however, feels like he’s playing Aidan Gillen’s Sir Toby, not his own.

Dunning’s unexpectedly mean-spirited Sir Toby seems to feed into a bizarre interpretation of the text by Jordan, in which he wants to queer Shakespeare by having the traditional climatic heterosexual marriages be a parade of misery. Olivia and Antonio are unhappy at losing Viola and Sebastian. The Duke marries Viola for no apparent reason, making Valentine unhappy. Sir Toby is horrid to Sir Andrew, and loses his only friend, while Sir Andrew runs away from Illyria. And Malvolio runs thru the audience, with his face stained with tears. O’Halloran is so good you feel like crying at Malvolio’s humiliation, but his exit line could be high comedy as could Sir Toby and Sir Andrew’s parting. Instead after 3 ½ hours nearly everyone ends up miserable. The finale is thus so muted that when Feste sings you half-expect the characters to come back. And then they all do, in their underwear … and gather under a giant shower-head, before running off to don bath-robes before bowing. As with so much else, such as the pointless drumming minor characters start before the audience has returned from the interval, I had no idea why that decision was taken.

This production will no doubt receive the acclaim that all Jordan’s projects get, but after three duds I can only protest such acclaim’s undeserved.

2/5

Twelfth Night continues its run at the Abbey until May 24^th.