Machine Dazzle brings a new form of Surrealism to the stage
A decade or so ago, I spent a fair amount of time with three friends who shared a loft in the East Village. Because all three were performers, I nicknamed the loft and its inhabitants the Footlights Club, in honor of Edna Ferber and George S. Kaufman’s 1936 play, “Stage Door,” about aspiring actresses boarding together. And, because my friends sang or acted or wrote or directed for the stage, they had opening-night and closing-night parties at the Footlights Club that were more fun than anything, full of post-performance energy and camaraderie. On those nights, you might see the actor, singer, writer, and director Taylor Mac, his head shaved, with a slash of lipstick above his lip line, like Lucille Ball in “I Love Lucy.”
Or you could run into Murray Hill, the drag king and comedian, resplendent in a maroon crushed-velvet suit, with a bow tie and spit-shined shoes. Across the room, you’d catch a glimpse of Sara, of the twin-sister musicians Tegan and Sara, looking thin and chic in her version of Le Smoking. But, in the midst of all that laughter, dishing, and style, the person I most looked forward to checking out was a six-feet-five young man named Matthew Flower—to my mind, a true theatrical genius, who, under his professional name, Machine Dazzle, has created some of the most inventive costumes and sets I have ever seen. (The artist, now forty-five, is currently designing for the singer Nona Hendryx’s “Refrigerated Dreams,” a “multimedia performance art concert,” which débuts at Joe’s Pub, in October, and for a revival of Thomas Bradshaw’s 2008 play “Southern Promises,” at the Flea, in March.)
この記事は The New Yorker の October 8, 2018 版に掲載されています。
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この記事は The New Yorker の October 8, 2018 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
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The Puppet Masters - Compulsion, complicity, and the art of Bunraku.
The National Bunraku Theatre, in New York recently for the first time in more than thirty years, presented an evening of suicides. The performance, at the Japan Society, consisted of excerpts from two of the company’s most celebrated productions. In the Fire Watchtower scene from “The Greengrocer’s Daughter,” by Suga Sensuke and Matsuda Wakichi, from 1773, the titular character sacrifices herself to save a temple page boy she loves. In a scene from “The Love Suicides at Sonezaki,” by Chikamatsu Monzaemon, from 1703, two lovers are driven to take their own lives. Both plays were inspired by real events, and Chikamatsu’s was followed by a wave of double suicides that led to a ban on further performances. This mirroring of life and art is all the more astonishing given the fact that the actors are not people but puppets.
The Convert - The sudden rise of J. D. Vance has transfixed conservative élites. Is he the future of Trumpism?
Vance’s selection as Trump’s running mate had punctuated an astounding rise. Born in the small manufacturing city of Middletown, Ohio, he was raised by a drug-addicted mother and his beloved Appalachian-born grandmother, Mamaw. He worked his way up through storied American institutions: the Marine Corps, Yale Law School, Silicon Valley. “Hillbilly Elegy,” the best-selling memoir Vance published in 2016, made him famous, and his denunciations of Trump as “cultural heroin” for the white working class even more so. A few years later, he was a senator from Ohio, the Republican Party’s most effective spokesman for Trumpism as an ideology, and—both improbably and inevitably—the VicePresidential nominee. “If you think about where he came from and where he is, at forty years old,” the conservative analyst Yuval Levin, a Vance ally, said, “J.D. is the single most successful member of his generation in American politics.”
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Early on in “Blitz,” Rita Hanway (Saoirse Ronan), a London factory worker, puts her nine-year-old son, George (Elliott Heffernan), aboard a train. Rather, George puts himself aboard; he twists angrily free of his mother’s grasp—“I hate you!” he cries—and tears off down the platform.
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EACH MORTAL THING
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From the Wilderness
One morning in the rainy season, I went to bed at 6 a.m. after working all night and was on the verge of falling asleep when I was startled by the sound of my father’s voice coming through the air-conditioner next to my bed.
THE BIG DEAL
Joe Biden's economic policies are starting to transform America. Will anyone notice?
THE LAST MILE
The aid workers who risk their lives to bring relief to Gaza.
TAKE ME HOME
The filmmaker Mati Diop turns her gaze on plundered art.