The Overreaction Of An Understatement

The weekend is over. We're back in school, and already I'm looking forward to the Easter break. Now, officially, we only have at the most five weeks of lessons time left. Including next term. How amazing does that sound? Five weeks and A' Levels over and done with. No more 3,000-worders to be done three hours before the lesson. Of course I haven't mentioned the exams. And the 10,000-worders (probably more) in Uni. But from what I've heard, there aren't too many lectures for the English course. I've heard something as ridiculous as two lectures a week, which would just be amazing.

So how was my weekend, that's the question everyone asked me today. Of course I only greeted it with the polite response of 'it was good. How was yours?' and then not actually bothering to hear how the person's weekend went.

But if I bothered to answer your question properly, it would be an extended version of that. This is how it would go.

'It was good, thanks. I went to London, stayed in Brunei Hall. Went to see Pill, which is always a treat. This time we didn't intentionally get lost anywhere in London, but it was fun nonetheless. It was great. Then there was the ICUBS Brunei Night, which, to be honest, was complete balls.'

I'd take a short pause and then,

'The acting was poor, the jokes were recycled garbage that failed to be funny after the second time being told. The standards were close to that of a high school production. Not much better, really. Probably the only few good bits were the dancing, especially the modern dance. The traditional dance was a bit messy and out of sync. The sound editing was horrible. The stage management, the lights, it was amateur. I mean, I've seen much better performed, much funnier and more professional plays written and directed by high school 16-year-olds.'

'I'm pretty sure they worked hard at it. And I appreciate that. But...'

'It was overacted... Poorly. The diction was unclear at times, and the plot was absolute nonsense.'

And then I would remark on how mean of me to say that, but I wouldn't apologise because I'm allowed to criticise, aren't I?

I went to that because I thought it would be good seeing a theatrical performance by Bruneians. I'm not saying that all Bruneian productions are automatically bad. I've seen some pretty good ones. But I expect better from a bunch of Uni students. Much better.

Signing out

Over and out

The Genre Of Comedy & Tragedy Juxtaposed

I feel a little tired today. Last night I got back to school from Stratford just after midnight, and damn, it was chilly. And today I've been filling in my free periods with work, specifically researching on Milton's Paradise Lost.

I really enjoyed going to see Twelfth Night last night. It was performed by The Royal Shakespeare Company at The Courtyard Theatre. It was the same place where I went to see The Seagull. The play itself was quite funny. I didn't know this play very well, and barely only knowing parts of the story just by listening to people talking about it. The whole thing was well-acted. I especially liked Feste. He could sing and play the piano so well. And he was so witty and funny. In hindsight, I think he's probably the most intelligent character in the whole play. As they say, it takes a genius to play a fool. The character of Malvolio was quite sad. At first you couldn't help but despise his up-tight, party-pooper attitude, but as the play goes on, you feel so sympathetic of him, and I guess serves as a reminder that not everyone can be happy in real life, or even in a comedy such as Twelfth Night.

One thing though. The whole play seems a little homoerotic. The character of Antonio was obviously in love with Sebastian. And Orsino still calls Viola by her 'male name', Cesario, even when she reveals she is not a man. So is Orsino in love with Viola, or is he in love with the male side of her, that of Cesario? I guess that's intentional of Shakespeare.

Paradise Lost is one hard poem. Just to do one essay, I'm supposed to read at least four critical books on him and his poem. I guess this is an early taste of how people work in universities. The thing is, I've got two days left till its due.

House Singing is coming soon. We're defending our title from last year. No idea yet what the unison song would be. But I'm sure Mike would do very well choosing the song and making us sing, since he did win the Best Composer (or something) award last year.

Anyways, off to the house and read some essays, then do mine.

Signing out

Over and out

Lasting Nights, Blazing Seconds

Well, I’m one day late of the promised Sunday update on the second performance of our house play. Sorry about that, I think. Haha. You guys aren’t bothered anyway, I can tell. If my blog isn’t updated, you’ll just have a thousand different alternative blogs to read. Haha. Ha.

For starters, we performed to a very small audience. A modest thirty compared to Friday night’s two hundred. But that proved to work in our favour. It was a very good audience, much more responsive. It was satisfying to perform in front of them. They laughed at every joke, they appreciated every sentiment. They loved it. We loved it. I have to say, I have never felt so satisfied after any kind of performance in my life. I was literally bowing at the end with the biggest grin on my face that my lips could manage. I think because of the small size of the audience, we felt less pressure than the night before, and therefore weren’t afraid to experiment and just went for it. Everyone projected their voices better. Everyone interacted with each other much, much, oh so much better than Friday night’s. We articulated our lines better. Everything was just done better. We didn’t skip four pages like on Friday. There were no major cock-ups at all. Just plain lovely. Smooth sailing all the way.

Geo did his opening scene by replacing the phrase ‘English women’ with ‘English cunt,’ which was obviously much more offensive. Actually in the actual play, it was ‘cunt,’ not ‘women,’ but it got changed to try and not offend anyone. But a few minutes before the curtain opened, I said to Geo, “Are you gonna say cunt instead of women this time?” because he did contemplate it before.

“Do you think I should?” he replied.

“Go for it. If they get angry, just say you forgot to censor yourself and used the original lines instead,” was my stupid suggestion.

And so he did. I almost burst out laughing on stage. I had to control myself from giggling in front of the audience. I could feel the others were giggling off stage.

But then we found out Matt – our director – was holding his face in his hands not being able to believe that Geo had just said the word ‘cunt’ on stage. Geo quickly used the ‘excuse’ we had planned. A few people were sceptical. They had a right to be. But only Matt and our housemaster, Mr Vickers, were genuinely upset. Even the Headmaster didn’t get angry. He congratulated Geo’s performance on the way out. No one knew I was the one who made the final push to convince Geo to say it on stage. He was thinking about doing it, but he wasn’t sure before. And he did almost get into trouble for it. But since the play went so well – and the audience had no problem with it, in fact they loved it – Matt and Mr Vickers didn’t get so angry with him afterwards. He could’ve easily got suspended, or at the least, got given Headmaster’s Detention. Now I can just laugh thinking about it. The harm it would do to my conscience if he got to any kind of trouble.

And oh, thanks for Adi and Hanif for coming to see the play that night. I really appreciate it. Means a lot to me.

The after-party was okay. The lads had some Carling and Kroneunberg. I just had some Coke along with the third-formers. Haha. We had slices of pizza, a lot of Pringles, and a hundred other kinds of junk food. It went on till half past 12, after which we went to bed, to officially end what has been a genuinely fun and engaging few weeks in theatre.

Signing out

Over and out

Reviewing Hushes, Reminding Violence

I feel knackered..

Last night was good though. Not that it went perfectly. It was the fact that it didn't, and nobody noticed it didn't, was the most satisfying fact. In Act 1 Scene 11, my first big scene, Will Collins managed to skip four pages, without anyone noticing at all. I didn't. Half the cast didn't. Even the director didn't. We all had a big laugh after about it. It could've easily been a complete disaster, but it didn't.

I don't think I acted well though. And that was to be expected, I guess. My first play, my theatrical debut, and I was given quite a role. Not that it was massive. It was a supporting role. I had five scenes out of a total of 22, so I wasn't a pivotal character or anything. Looking forward to tonight's performance, and the inevitable chaos in the afterparty.

On a much darker note, some local people hanged about our school site. Some local youngsters - some would call them chavs - were walking around school with chains and hockey sticks, just looking for trouble and a fight. Jeremy Waterworth, a guy in our house, got smacked in the face with a hockey stick. He's in the Sanitorium now. Poor guy. His older brother, Sam, who's in my year, is surely really baited. I don't know. It's just..

It's not fair. Jezza (Jeremy) surely could've not done anything to provoke them. They were here for a reason. There's a lot of speculation on why they were here. But so far I've heard nothing solid. Maybe something will come out in the next few days.

Signing out

Over and out

Hushing Angers, Playing Nights

What a night.

We rehearsed the play till half past 12 at night yesterday, from 5 o'clock. We did two dress rehearsals and a lot of technical stuff to be sorted out.

Everyone was pretty knackered by the end of the rehearsal.

But it went pretty well, I must say. The actual performance is tonight. Slightly nervous, but hey, I know all my lines and all my cues. So pretty much up for it.

I'll update the story on the play maybe on Sunday..

Signing out

Over and out

Acting Hands, Gesturing Motions

Fuck, I’m hungry. I missed lunch and tea yesterday because I was in bed supposedly ill for the day. If it wasn’t for matron bringing in a plate of beans on toast and a cup of hot chocolate, I’d have died twenty minutes ago. I might just make myself some more toast later. We’ve got fruits too. But the bananas aren’t ripe enough, and it feels like eating a stick soaked in water. It’s that bad. The apples are decent. There’s some crisps and chocolate bars in the vending machine, but I’ve just got no change.

Anyway, I’m now a part of the House Play. That is, if I don’t screw up and embarrass myself. I’ve had no theatrical experience whatsoever. Maybe the sketch we did three years ago could count, but this time it involves words. Bloody words. Well, I am looking forward to making this work. Curiously though, my character is named Black Caesar, a guy from Madagascar. Funny that. I think I only have about twenty lines in total, and there’s a scene at the end in which I’m drunk and crying. That’s gonna be a struggle. Ho ho. Ha.

Like I said, I was ill the whole day yesterday. Right after breakfast I felt dizzy. And felt like vomiting. Well, a tendency to vomit is normal if you know how KH food is like anyway. With my head aching, I stumbled my way to Matron’s apartment, and told her I was ill. So she gave me some paracetamol, and I was off to sleep for a further eight hours. Well, I should have if it wasn’t for the cleaners coming in every twenty minutes asking me to tidy up my room, which I’ll admit, is in the sorry state of extreme messiness. I’m glad to say now most of the mess have been packed inside the drawers and cupboards to be hidden from inspecting eyes. My room now at least looks remotely viewable. Before that, there was not a square inch without either a piece of paper, a piece of electrical equipment, a piece of clothing, books or food wrappings.

More serious stuff. Someone in my year, from my house got ‘asked to leave’ the school, which is just a nice way of saying he’s been expelled. He was expelled on Saturday, and us being away from school (me in London), most of us only found out during Dix on Monday evening. Everyone’s a bit sad about it, because the guy wasn’t a bad lad. He just got caught in a nightclub one too many times.

I am seriously not arsed to do this. I can’t think of what to write, and what to blog about

Signing out

Over and out