Tuesday, 7 October 2014


In the office early - made a failed attempt to avoid the rain, as soon as I arrive, the dark clouds part and it's brilliant sunshine. I'm soaking.

Went to the encore of the live screening of 'Streetcar Named Desire' last night - starring Gillian Anderson. The reviews had been good, but I know someone who has seen it and didn't like it. I have to be honest, neither did I. I even considered leaving at the interval. It's not the casts' fault, they clearly worked hard, the set was well managed and I had no real issues with the contemporary setting (although it was a pointless exercise) - but the direction left me frustrated and exhausted. If you have seen the film version, you'll be familiar with the stylised, over heated, hot-house of hysteria the builds up during the course of 2 hours, here it started mad, stayed mad, got madder. Blanche had the kind of madness that demanded supreme self control, regardless of what life threw at her - she would have fought to retain her composure until the end, hiding behind an artifice and pretention that took huge resources of strength and intelligence to build, and was her only defence against the world, only cracking in the final scenes when she submits to the doctor and allows herself to be taken to an asylum, and perhaps then finding peace with the 'kindness of strangers' - but here - Blanche is a train wreck from the first scene, a shaking, screaming, vomiting, hysterical harpie - stumbling (literally) from one delusion to the next. The screeching high southern accent really doesn't help, there were many times I found myself tuning out - and couldn't understand a word that was being said. At no time were Stella and Blanche plausible sisters, at no time could I understand why anyone would tolerate this monstrous woman in their home - it was pointless - and quite pathetic to see her carried off like a broken, shambling wreck at the end. I hardly expected a Norma Desmond like exit - but give her some dignity in her delusions.

Once again, nobody wanted to sit any where near me. For goodness sake - I'm not that bad, it was dark, after all.

I came away tired and disappointed. Went home in the rain and had a panic attack about work totally drying up.

Reading more about the 'internet troll' suicide is just depressing. Listening to an 'expert on trolling' from some academic body (yes, that is a 'thing') it seems she never once directly contacted or messaged the McCaans, and her vitriol was more towards official bodies who really should have been able to brush it aside. Everyone has a right to believe whatever they want, no matter how wrong they are, or how offensive. We're not at the stage of North Korean style mind control yet.

The heating is on at the studio, it's very welcome.

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