On Wednesday, I had two life-changing experiences.
The first was in the form of a cookie. A peanut butter and milk chocolate Ben's Cookie, to be specific. You guys, I don't know what's in these cookies. Most likely drugs and aphrodisiacs and nectar of the gods. All I know for certain is that the cookie I had is probably the best thing that's ever happened to my mouth. I am enraptured thinking about it.
akdlsafkd;sgk;dg
When my friend Matt tried a Portillo's cake shake for the first time, he said, "This is the kind of moment that makes you an artist, because it changes your perception of what a milkshake can be."
The same is true of Ben's Cookies. If you are anywhere in the vicinity of the UK, or this planet, or, like, the Milky Way, go. I implore you.
My second life-changing experience came in the form of Aunt Petunia.
Once or twice a week, BADA brings in guest artists to impart their wisdom on us young and impressionable students of theatre. Last week, it was Fiona Shaw, most famous for her work in Harry Potter, but also a total theatre beast who has performed in about a million high-profile Shakespeare productions and a touring one-woman production of T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land. And MOST importantly, she had a recurring role in season 4 of True Blood!
(That was sarcasm, by the way. Her entire resume is way, way cooler than True Blood.)
The point is, Fiona Shaw is a genius. She's down to earth in a be-my-best-friend way - although fully aware of the fact that she really knows what's up - and sassy and funny and full of life. There wasn't a single dull moment in the entire master class. It could have gone on for six hours and I don't think anyone would have complained. And if you really want to know how incredible she is, I was so enthralled with how she was working that I completely forgot I was watching Aunt Petunia. And it takes a lot for my Harry Potter-wired brain to do that.
I didn't work with her personally, but I still learned so much. I don't think I stopped taking notes the entire time. Here is some
+ In English, we tend to speak in C Major. In Ireland, they speak in a minor key.
+ All you have to bring to a role, essentially, is yourself. "Keep the things that are uniquely your own, but find the universal truth. No, not the universal truth - forget I said that. Find the 'thing.'"
+ “Never allow yourself to be entirely in control of the ‘thing’. There is a gap between desire to be triumphant and natural human failure.”
+ "There is nothing normal about ordinary speech if it's on the stage."
+ When asked how she chooses projects, Fiona responded, "Oh, in my experience... things tend to choose you."
+ "If you have a grand speech, do it in a loo."
+ "It is tragedy, not heroism, that makes tragic heroes interesting."
+ "Artists paint skulls in the desert because they're there. Create the art that's there."
And finally -
+ On bringing herself to a role: "It's only you if it's scary for you to be you."
Vulnerability in the creative process. I think that's the 'thing.'
I can't possibly translate this woman's amazingness into the language of a blog post. She was just everything.
Now let's discuss the Olympics. There are TVs in a grand total of zero locations at Magdalen College, so most of BADA travelled to Copa, that swanky bar that nearly bounced me that one time. Since that unfortunate occurrence I've been determined to go back dressed to the nines and experience Copa in all of its Brit pop-blasting, alcohol-saturated glory. I could not have asked for a better first Copa adventure than attending during the Opening Ceremonies.
10. Epic Kenneth Branaugh being epic.
9. Cheering loudly for the obscurest of nations. Federated States of Micronesia YEAH
8. The Independent Olympic Athletes. I don't know who you are, but I salute you. And your krumping.
7. Playing the Industrial-Revolution-or-District-12? game.
6. HUGE INFLATABLE VOLDEMORT. And just generally realizing how grateful I am to Britain for giving me my literary childhood.
5. Sometime around the E-countries, Copa came to life. The lights went down and British pop music came on, and suddenly we were all watching the Olympics and dancing to Queen.
4. David Beckham + torch + boat.
3. Finding out Mr. Bean has the same fantasies that I do!
3. The moment when all of the fiery rings came together.
2. Being in a bar in Britain and yelling absurdly for the United States with a hundred other Americans.
1. JK Rowling reading Peter Pan. I may or may not have burst into tears.
I sort of hate to refer to things as triumphs of the human spirit because I think it's rarely true, but the Olympics actually fit that description. And the watching the Opening Ceremony an hour away from where it was taking place, surrounded by drunk patriots, drenched in Brit-pop and celebration and the beer someone spilled on me - it was the best possible reminder that though we might live in an imperfect world, we are part of something extraordinary.
Okay. Done being serious.
Yesterday, I partook in another important British cultural experience, as well as an actor's rite of passage: a visit to Stratford-upon-Avon, birthplace of
this guy.
Stratford is a town full of possibilities. In ten hours, I saw the possible birthplace of the man who was possibly the greatest writer of all time. I rubbed the stone upon which said man's possible father possibly sold gloves. I even saw the place where he was possibly buried!
I almost napped in this church. If it's a good enough resting place for Shakespeare, it's a good enough napping place for me.
Secretly though, the man who was possibly Shakespeare was possibly kind of a jerk. He possibly cheated on his wife, which put him in bad standing with the church. Luckily, he was possibly wealthy enough to buy prime real estate for his grave.
I should probably cut Stratford some slack, since it's difficult to be certain of anything that happened like 450 years ago. Possibilities and all, it's a pretty righteous place. They sell baguettes on boats!
Best barge experience ever.
Theatre is everywhere. Of course, there's the world-famous Royal Shakespeare Company, where all of BADA saw a production of The Tempest last night. But there's also park where you can see free live performances of shows performed on a barely-there set by costumeless actors surrounded by trees where people have hung poems, As You Like It-style.
You're like a baby kangaroo
Short, brown, and chubby
Oh, Joey.
As You Like It As We Like It, amirite 10 Day Shakespeare?
I'm pretty sure Stratford also employs a group of people whose sole job is to create relevant puns. Shakesbeer is on tap at every pub, Shakesbears sold in every gift shop. The gift shops, by the way, are excellent. I bought some souvenirs for people (Reid... get excited), and came thisclose to purchasing a bright pink quill, because how awful/hilarious/awful would it be to walk in with it on the first day of fiction sequence?
Am I a Serious Writer yet?
But enough of this. I must away. In about an hour, award-winning playwright, DePaul/Yale School of Drama/BADA alum, and Steppenwolf ensemble member Tarell Alvin McCraney is visiting for a Q&A!!! If there's anyone who can give me answers to the questions I have as a student of theatre, it's him.
