to say nothing of the dog

Sunday, September 12, 2004

That Acting Week

So, I went home to Ohio for Adam's break from school. We got some stuff done, we signed a contract for the reception site for our wedding next year, and we picked out a place to actually get married.

Looks like I've got a wedding coming up. Wow. I even have a dress. It's really pretty.

I've been reading Jane Austen's Mansfield Park. Very interesting book. I haven't finished it, because, well, I threw up on it on Friday night.

If you saw the movie, it distantly relates to the source material, but only in a second cousin kind of way. One of the essays accompanying the book makes a point of discussing the home theatricals, and suggests that Mary and Henry Crawford (the most sympathetic anti-protagonists I've ever read--Henry trifles with the affections of all of the Mansfield women, proposes to the protagonist, Fanny Price, and ultimately commits adultery with her cousin, Mrs. Maria Rushworth--but you still like him) are most alive while acting, while playing a part--that their acting in the play is an encapsulation of their lives. The essay's author further states that these characters are the first example of modern psychology in literature. The author is pointing out the multiplicity of personality facets that modern/post-modern individuals use to cope with everyday life. He made some smackdown comments on actors and acting in the process. Now, that is one of the easiest ways to piss me off.

Gah. It's the same old assumption that if you're an actor, you're a vagabond and a prostitute, trying to ape your betters by putting on paste jewelry. When are people gonna learn that in order to act well, you have to have empathy, reality, specificity, and imagination?

Pffft. I'm getting off my soapbox, now.


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