(no subject)

[xinjinmeng]

:
Typically, I avoid the Toy Matinee -- there's only so much one can abide mimes, or dolls, much less both at the same time.  Others may find the artifice appealing, perhaps even exciting, but not myself.  Declare me devoid of child-like wonderment if you must.

It was on the advice of a catamount catamite that I deigned to be present at an afternoon showing of Productiebedrijf van Meyer's untitled musical.  Girded with aesthetics the clear antipode of what usually is seen on this shiny stage, the five principals are abstract sculptures that move about, with masterful puppeteers almost completely concealed inside.  The program calls them merely A, B, C, D, and E.  Are they dancing or just moving?  The actors do not speak, and the muscial accompaniment does not answer for them.  Past the midpoint, the purpose of cables running from the sculptures and over the stage became clear, as the air crackled with electricity.  In disciplined choreography, the actors worked their costumes in such a way that the parts became pieces in a gigantic theremin, although it was molto Maestoso in a way I hadn't thought possible. 

Perhaps I speak out of weakness for the baroque.  To me, this musical spoke of what the Toy Matinee could promise but rarely delivers -- strict rules of order combined with rigorous discipline to produce a synaesthetic result!  Goodness gracious, I giggle at the imperiousness of that statement even as I write it.  Or should it be 專橫?  I feel a bit light-headed, and it is most likely from spending several hours in a room with overlapping electromagnetic fields.

Tonight: hydrochloric and olisbos.