Review: Water for Elephants

I don't know what took me so long to watch Water for Elephants, aside from perhaps the idea of suffering through a Robert Pattinson movie. Which is odd, because while I wasn't a giant fan of Twilight, I didn't find them as repugnant as many people. In fact, if you look hard on the Interwebs, you will find a photograph of me and Shaina preparing t-shirts for the new movie in Cheongju. I found the movies enjoyable, and I am one of those die-hard HP fans who remembers that Twilight was not Pattinson's first big role (if you can call the role of Cedric Diggory big, which I do).

And yet, it was on a Saturday night when I had nothing much else to do that I decided to finally watch it for the first time. It has been sitting there, gathering dust so to speak, waiting for me to watch for years, and it took a lack of anything better to do for me to decide that it was worth switching on. And, from minutes into the movie, I was utterly hooked.

The trailer, the beginning scenes and the general tone of the movie reminded me a lot of Big Fish, one of my favourite Tim Burtons, and though the story was very different, it didn't disappoint in the slightest. The story is of a young man in the 1930's whose life is changed forever by a tragic accident. One exam short of a vetinary degree and without a cent to his name, he wanders down a set of train tracks and decides to take a chance when he sees a train approaching in the horizon. And so, he finds himself becoming a part of the famous Benzini Bros. circus. It's the story about his time there, and the love that he finds there.

The movie is shot beautifully, giving a real sense of the Big Top and the time. The actors are great with Robert Pattinson and Reese Witherspoon pulling out all stops. And the story, well the story is beautiful and tragic, making me laugh and cry at times, but leaving me with a smile and a lasting memory.

So if you are looking for a good romantic drama, I would highly recommend watching this one. I can't recommend it enough. Just watch it!

Movie Review: One Day

I have been wanting to watch One Day for quite awhile now, since seeing it advertised on DSTV's Box-Office. I love Anne Hathaway and enjoy most of the movies that I have seen her in, and this one was no exception.

Based on a book by David Nicholls (which I am now going to have to find) One Day is the story of two people, Emma (Anne Hathaway) and Dexter (Jim Sturgess). The two meet at university and the movie shows how each of their lives progress, dropping in on them both each year after their initial meeting. Some years they are together, some they are apart, but they are always thinking of each other in some way or another on the day. We watch them grow up, grow together, grow apart and grow wiser. We witness joys, pains and everything in between.

I thought that the storyline of the movie was very good. It was an intriguing concept to pop in each year and see how one night can change two people's leaves for the better and for the worse. I thought that the acting was brilliant on both parts and I thought that it was a wonderful movie overall. It had funny moments, mostly at the hands of Sturgess whose character was a bit of a wild child when compared to Hathaway's straight-arrow. Not that Hathaway's character doesn't face struggles of her own, but she tends to deal with them more serenely than Sturgess deals with his difficulties, which on reflection are a lot more life-altering.

I wouldn't call One Day a comedy though, despite some comedic relief on occasion. It is a romance and it is a drama, but the issues that come up throughout the movie can certainly not be called comedy. If you are looking or a good romance to watch, I would highly recommend this one, and would certainly recommend it above some of the others making the rounds at the moment including The Vow and Like Crazy (I never did review that one... perhaps a task for another time). Overall, I would give it a 5/5 because I honestly can't think of anything that I would criticise.

Memory of Water

Tonight came close to being a good night. And, in fact for awhile it was! I got to go to an amazing show, I got to spend time with Grant and I had a nice dinner. And then it failed.

But let me start from the beginning. I got to go to an amazing show! It is one of the few shows that I am going to this fest (unlike last year when I had a plan practically every night). And I will admit from the outset that I may be a little biased about it - it was directed by a good friend after all. But that is no reason to let the awesomeness slide. I didn't know what to expect from The Memory of Water. I had read the summary of course, but you know summaries - they don't tell you very much. I even convinced Grant that he had to come along. It took a little persuading, but he relented, especially after I bought him his ticket.

And so, at 17:45 we made our way to NG Kerk Saal to go and see The Memory of Water, directed by Deborah Robertson. I had a little trouble getting in (booking through Computicket and collecting the tickets at the door is not a good plan) but we managed with some time to spare and took our seats towards the middle of the room. Two of the actors stayed on stage while people found their seats, one sleeping while the other smoked to add to the atmosphere that the play was to provide. And then it started.

From the first few lines, I was intrigued. And I stayed that way throughout the play. There wasn't a moment of boredom, there wasn't a moment where I thought that it might have been running to long, there wasn't a moment where I regretted going to the show. The acting was superb, the timing was perfect and, even when things went wrong like the set falling over halfway during the show, they didn't skip a beat as the eldest sister exclaimed "Old house!" and they continued with the script. It was funny, it was poignant, it was heartwrenching and it was amazing. I left smiling and filled with warmth, and I would recommend that everyone snatch up the opportunity to see the show before it finishes on Saturday.

Once the play was over, it was time to grab some dinner. Grant wanted to catch the football, so there was no chance of heading home to cook. So we decided to go to the Albany Club. We tend to go there occasionally for lunch and we knew that they would be open for dinner during fest, they are usually quick and make decent meals, so we decided that would be the place to go. We arrived and quickly found a seat. We had been hoping for a table in the bar area since it is warmer and more lively, but no such luck. Nonetheless, we got a table and settled down for a nice meal. The menu was pretty much the same as it always is - typical pub meals of burgers, calamari, chops, etc. with a few Fest additions like Kudu steaks and Butter Chicken. Grant decided to take advantage of the festival and go for the kudu, while I decided on the calamari. The food was decent and came fairly quickly and I was looking forward to dessert when Grant saw the time out of the corner of his eye and realised that he had to run. Which was fine. I ordered the bill as he ran out of the door and waited for it to come. And waited. And waited some more. A table came in and sat down next to me, ordered, got their food and I was still waiting. The other table finished their meal, got the bill and left and I waited. Finally my waiter came in and asked if I wanted the bill because it seemed that my partner wasn't coming back. To which I responded, with frustration. "Yes, I want that bill. That's why I asked for it 25 minutes ago!" Five minutes later he came back with it, and then left. I waited five more minutes before deciding that it was enough and walking through to the kitchen to pay. My waiter found me there and brought over the card machine. Only to say, "I don't know how to do this". It is not rocket science. Once one of the managers had rung it up, he then handed me both the slip for the restaurant and the one that I am supposed to keep. It boggles my mind.

Anyway, I was more than a little annoyed after this, and I made my way to PnP only to park in front of someone who appeared to be taking some coke in front of my car, not wanting to move out of the way which, though not directly affecting me, still pissed me off even further.

So no, despite a wonderful play and a decent dinner, I am sad to say that it has not been a good night. Here's hoping that tomorrow will be better!

Folding Paper Cranes

An image of the puppet Sadako Sasaki (and her puppeteer) dressed in a kimono and holding an origami crane. This was the promotional image used in the National Arts Festival programme.

One of the shows that Natasha was very keen to see during fest was Sadako. I wasn’t overly enthusiastic about it, but I had heard good things and after watching the brilliant performance of Mouche, I was a little more open to the idea of a puppet show.

The play is based on the true story of Sadako, a little girl who was two years old when Hiroshima was bombed. Though she initially seems unaffected by the blast, ten years later it is discovered that she has leukemia as a result of the radiation that she was exposed to.

The show is an incredibly sad one, delving into the short life of a girl and her struggle against an illness that she can do nothing about. It goes beyond just looking at Sadako’s story to see how her disease affects her family and her friends, their relationships and their beliefs. The one thing that keeps Sadako going is a beautiful legend about origami cranes. The legend goes that if you fold 1000 origami cranes, you will be granted one wish.

Using puppets was a powerful way to portray Sadako’s story – it opened the story up to audiences of all ages. Even if children could not understand what was happening, they could enjoy the brilliant puppetry that the show presented. It also gave the play a very distinctive and very Japanese feel despite the actors being played by South Africans. It introduced bright imagery to a bleak situation, and I thought that it was wonderful.

However, despite the beautiful puppetry and the work that had put into setting the scene for the play, I found it very difficult to sit through. This was for a number of reasons. First of all, I do not believe that the play is suitable for young children. They ended up getting bored, kicking seats, dropping things, making noise and just generally being distracting. Secondly, I found the play to be a bit long. This pertains to the issue of having small children who get quickly bored, but it goes beyond that. I felt that the story was dragged out for too long to try and illicit an emotional response from the audience. I do not think that it was necessary. The story itself is so touching that we do not need to see each and every detail of Sadako’s deterioration played out to be touched. Finally, I found the subject matter hit quite close to home. The same way that I struggle to watch episodes of Greys that involve brain tumours, I found it difficult to watch the way that Sadako’s parents deal with the disease, as I know that my parents were going through the same thing with my sister. Sure, it wasn’t leukemia, and sure it worked out for the best. But it still plucked at my heart strings, and I found it difficult to watch.

Sadako is an incredibly beautiful, powerful, painful story. If you are the kind who cries in plays, expect to. If you have young children that you are considering taking to this play, don’t. Otherwise, I recommend that everyone see the play or at the very least read about Sadako’s story – it can be found online and there is a book dedicated to her entitled “Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes”.

Dream, Brother

A promotional image of Dream, Brother that I found in the National Arts Festival programme.

So, if sold out shows mean amazing performances and empty shows mean shitty ones, what does it mean when a show only has a mediocre attendance? Should I take it that it's only a mediocre show? Should I assume that people were busy on that particular day at that particular time and weren't able to come?

Take Dream, Brother for example. It was being performed in a small venue, the same venue as Paperboy in fact (and I learned my lesson this time and drove around rather than parking at the top of VG) and there was a fair number of people waiting outside to file into the room. Not enough to fill the venue completely, but enough to reassure us that the play wouldn't be an utter disaster.

So how was the play? Was it mediocre? Brilliant, but under-appreciated? Terrible, but well advertised? Apparently that would depend on the person that you spoke to.

I find it amazing how different people have different views on plays. As Natasha and I walked to the car after the play was over, I overheard the woman in front of us complaining to her husband.

“Absolutely awful,” she announced. “There were so many loose ends. What the hell was happening? Just terrible.” I practically glared after her and fumed as I made my way to the car. Once the doors were shut and no one else could hear me, I vented about what I had overheard.

Natasha and I completely agreed – Dream, Brother was certainly not the best play that we had seen at Fest, but it was also far from the worst. It was done on budget and you could tell – from the small venue to the simplistic props. That isn't to say that shows that are done on budget can't be good – look at London Road! But they'd had a number of runs before Fest and at Fest itself over the years, and had grown to the point where they could sell out a big theatre. Dream, Brother was not yet at the point where they could sell out a small one.

The idea behind the play is a complex one. It looks at two relationships – one between a young man and woman that is acted out from their first date to their marriage and beyond; the other explained to the audience by a man, seen on the sidelines of the first relationship and an integral character in himself. As the relationships start coming together in a single story, as the man explaining his story starts popping up in more important roles in the other couple's life, the dynamic of the play changes completely. By the end of the play, the couple and the man's stories have been so delicately interwoven, that it is impossible to separate the two relationships.

I can see how the woman left the play feeling that there were loose ends. However, I appreciated the loose ends that were left – I liked that not everything fit neatly into a little box that could be packed away in the mind. I found that Dream, Brother left me questioning life, questioning relationships and questioning reality. I thought that it was a beautiful representation of madness, and I think that it is one of the plays that I would see again if I could.

But then again... that's just my opinion.

Fine dining

Masters directing student, Deborah Robertson, directs Taste at the National Arts Festival in Grahamstown. Image found via Google.

What does it take to get a show into Festival? Natasha and I have been wondering that a lot over the last week. Is there a selection process? If there is, how do some of the crappier shows like Paperboy get through it?

I can tell you one thing - for a student doing a masters in directing, getting a play into fest takes a lot of time, a lot of planning and a lot of hard work. I can tell you this, because I have seen my friend, Debbie Robertson, attempting to write and direct her first Festival play over the last few months. What was the outcome of her attempt? Taste.

I was really excited when I arrived at the monument and made my way down a staircase, around a corner, down more staircases and around more corners and eventually found the Rehearsal room. For those who have never been there, I can understand why - it is completely hidden and the back and in the basement, and I wouldn't have even known where I was going if it wasn't for all the other people making their way to the same place. By the time we got to the door, the room was packed and we were some of the last people to find seats together. The seats that we found were not particularly good ones either, I had to squiggle and squirm to see the stage, which meant that the entire play was spent in discomfort. But it was totally worth it to see Debbie's debut.

Taste is about a weekend retreat that a handful of friends go on to the middle of nowhere. Upon arrival, everyone needs to hand over their keys, cellphones and laptops so that no contact with the outside world can be made - it is a weekend for friends, after all. A chance to get away from reality for a little bit. But when one of the characters goes missing things start to descend into chaos and what is supposed to be a weekend of fun and fine dining turns into a murder mystery.

Artsy, humorous, mysterious and fun, Taste goes to show what Debbie can do when she puts her mind to it. The actors and actresses gave some great performances as well, but Debbie was the real star of the show. Perhaps I only see it this way because I know what went into the making of it, but considering how many people were supporting her and cheering her on, I don't think I am alone in that opinion.

Roads Filled with Friendship

Actresses Robyn Scott and Ntombi Makhutshi star in this incredibly moving Fringe production of London Road. Image found here.

“Shouldn’t we be leaving?”
"Neh.”
If there was one thing I had learned about fest, it was that you really didn’t have to be at places half an hour before the starting time. All it led to was standing outside in the cold and waiting for the doors to open. So I figured that we could rock up at London Road ten minutes before the time and we’d be fine. Goes to show what I know!

The line weaved down St Andrew’s paved lane as people shivered in the cold, trying to peek over others’ shoulders to see the start of the queue. As we slowly started filing into the room, I suddenly realised just how popular the play was and how unlikely it was that we’d get good seats. I was right this time around. We ended up squeezing into two seats right on the edge and a good couple of rows back. There were tall people in front of me, and I kept having to adjust myself to see the stage. I knew that as I did, I was obscuring the view of the people behind me, but that was just too bad. I wanted to see what was going on!

The lights dimmed, the play began and two women stepped onto the stage – one middle-aged and black, the other old and white. One wanting her privacy, the other a nosy parker. What on earth could these two women from such different backgrounds have in common? Well, not too much aside from drinking. But that doesn’t stop their friendship from blossoming.

London Road tells a story of an unlikely friendship between two people who are on their own with no one to rely on. With amazing performances by the two actresses and a polished script, I was utterly surprised that this show was still on Fringe. It goes to show how little I know about Fest, apparently. Some of the best shows are on Fringe, and just because something is on Fringe doesn’t mean that it isn’t good or that it can be ignored.

I have learned my lesson. No longer will I try to arrive at shows as the doors are opening. No longer will I scan over the Fringe performances without taking any detail in. From now on, I am keeping my eyes wide open, and you should too.

Also, you should try to see London Road. If it isn’t sold out yet. I laughed and was on the verge of tears. It’s brilliant. Go and book.

Professional

An image of two of the main cast members of Last Pro of Yeoville found via Google.

There are quite a couple of dodgy shows at fest this year. Just look at the poster for Moneymakers and you will see what I mean. Which is why I was more than a little hesitant about attending a show entitled Last Pro of Yeoville. We all knew that it was going to be about a prostitute, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to spend my afternoon watching a semi-pornographic drama. But Natasha wanted to see it, a fact that surprised me in itself as Natasha is as innocent as it comes and tends to want to avoid crass humour, nevermind full-blown porn on stage. So we went, because it was what Natasha wanted and I figured that, at the very least, I would get to be amused by her discomfort.

Little did I know what I was in for. Last Pro of Yeoville is about a prostitute, that much is true, but it is certainly not pornography. There is a little nudity, quite a bit of gesturing, a lot of adult humour and more than a little violence, but it is far from pornography. It is beautiful, soulful, funny, dramatic and fantastic. The actors were amazing, the dialogue brilliant and well timed, the stage intricate and the storyline intriguing. It blew me out of the water!

To give you just a little detail, as always, the story follows two men who live in an apartment together - one an older struggling artist, the other a young struggling musician. They don't get along particularly well, but the one thing that they share is the enjoyment of sitting on their balcony and watching the goings on of one of the main streets of Johannesburg. There they first lay eyes on the white prostitute who will become an intricate part of both of their lives.

This is another show that I would highly highly recommend people attend. Brilliant, captivating and well worth the money if you can manage to book a ticket - I would try early, since it was almost completely sold out when we went.

Tables and Paperboys

The cast of The Table seated for a typical Friday night dinner in a Jewish household. Image found on Google.

"You're sure that you know where you're going?"
"Yes."
"How sure?"
"Sure."
"Positive?"
"Stop worrying, Natasha," I practically scream, my nerves on edge after a day of dealing with client complaint after client complaint. I feel guilty immediately, but we are both reassured when we see a sign pointing us in the right direction, the direction that I knew we were supposed to be going in.

"What are you watching tonight," Grant had asked earlier.
My response, as always, had been: "Ask Natasha." She was the one who had read the program, had chosen the shows. I was merely coming along for the entertainment value, happy to tag along without the effort of finding shows that sounded interesting. Let someone else do the work. That way if it isn't good, I have someone to blame. Not that I would ever blame K if she chose a bad show - it's just good to know that there is someone to fall back on if I need to. I preferred not knowing, being surprised. All that I knew about these two were their names - The Table and Paperboy - and their genres - drama and comedy. We had chosen these two for a very specific reason - they were in the same place. Well, just about. One was in Victoria Theatre, and the other at Vicky's. Having looked them up on the map and seeing that they had the same venue number, we shrugged our shoulders and booked our tickets.

We arrived at Victoria Girls in good time, half an hour before the play was supposed to start. I parked the car near the entrance to the school and we didn't have to walk more than 100m to the entrance of Victoria Theatre. Perfect. We made our way into the theatre itself and found some good seats - about six rows back, right in the middle. The seats, we were pleased to find, were a lot more comfortable than the Graeme College alternatives, and we settled down nicely before the play began.

The lights dimmed and a woman walked out on stage, tottering slightly in her high heels, walking slowly and with each step shouting a word that sounded distinctly Hebrew.
Oh God, I thought to myself. It's going to be Jewish.
And I wasn't wrong. The play is about a Jewish family enjoying a Friday night dinner together for the first time in a year and joined by the maid that has been with the family since the youngest was born and her daughter. It starts with the typical greetings after a year spent apart, and descends into the family drama that, as any Jewish person knows, comes with Friday night dinner. The show jumps between hilarity and misery, and the audience jumps between laughing and crying as the characters act, dance, sing and, of course, eat. Not wanting to give too much away, I won't go into very much detail about what happens, but I will say that this show is absolutely a must see! The actors were incredible, the dialogue is awesome, the dancing and singing in between is far from cheesy and the whole show left me wanting to come back for more.

After thoroughly enjoying The Table, it was time to make our way to Paperboy. We had half an hour to meander over to Vicky's, and even though I didn't quite know where it was, I had faith in the signs that tended to point us in the right direction. And they worked.
Up to a point.
And then they stopped working. Suddenly we found ourselves at the Gymnasium without any idea of where to go from there. We walked back to the Theatre and found someone to ask, and, after being pointed in the right direction and walking around the building to find an entrance, we arrived at Vicky's just before the doors even opened. Phew. No problems there.

The Paperboy preparing to deliver the papers to the doorsteps of his neighbours. Image found through Google.

As we sat down for Paperboy, a suspicion swept over me that this was not going to be a success. We had just come from an amazing show, and were now being seated in a tiny room with us and only five other people making up the audience. The lights dimmed, and I tried to put my skepticism aside as the actor came onto the stage.

Paperboy is a one-man play about, well, a paperboy. Bobby Jones lives with his crippled father and his life ambition is being a master paperboy. Only he isn't very good at it and tends to get himself into trouble a lot of the time. Take, for example, the morning that the play starts off with - he delivers some papers, breaks some windows, chats to some neighbours and knocks the urn of a recently deceased neighbour off of a shelf. Wracked with guilt, Bobby plots to break into the house while the owner is away so that he can gather up the ashes and fix the mistake.

Please note that I have no hesitation telling you what this play is about. And there is good reason for that. Most of the time when I decide not to tell people what happens, it is because I want them to be pleasantly surprised. In this case, the play was too bad to recommend to anyone. Suddenly I understood why there were only 7 people in the audience. While the actor tries his hardest and does nothing particularly wrong, the play is supposed to be a comedy. I didn't find it funny in the slightest. It is supposed to be a mystery. I suspected what was going to happen from the start. It is a one-man show, and the singular actor attempts to play a number of characters and play into a number of stereotypes that I found just didn't work well. Overall, Natasha and I agreed that it was a waste of our money and our time.

We left Paperboy feeling extremely disappointed. We made our way around the building, getting a little lost, up the steps and around to the car. Only to find the gate to VG closed, with our car on the other side. Oops. We walked back to Vicky's in the pitch black, with me freaking out more than a little on the way, and managed to find an exit onto a street that I didn't recognise. Thankfully, I quickly realised where we were and we managed to walk back to the car constantly checking behind us to make sure that no one was following. My nerves were also higher than normal because this was the street where, four years earlier, I had come close to being mugged in broad daylight. The fact that Natasha was walking with me didn't make me feel particularly safe either - two women are just as easy to attack as one.

Either way, we ended up getting back to the car safe and sound. No harm, no foul. Plus I got a little adventure to tell in the process. So what is the moral of this story? See The Table; don't see Paperboy and never park your car outside VG before the 10pm show apparently.

Purging the Soul

Dawid Minnaar and Terry Norton play the man and woman in Ariel Dorfman's Purgatorio, being performed at Graeme College throughout the National Arts Festival. Image acquired from here.

I wasn’t quite as excited as I should have been, I can tell you that much to start off with. I had come from a long day of work and the only thing I wanted to do was run a bath so hot that it would practically make my skin melt, pick up The Lovely Bones and have a nice long soak.

Instead I had to whip up a quick dinner with the few ingredients lying around the house (since there was no way I was going to head to the disaster area that had become Peppergrove Mall to get groceries), take a few minutes to enjoy eating it and then head back into the icy night to go and watch a play. Usually the prospect of a play, particularly the first major play of fest, would bring a smile to my face, but I just wasn’t in the mood. But I bucked up, pasted a smile on my face and was on my way to Purgatorio.

As we arrived at Graeme College, the excitement started to dawn on me a little bit, particularly when we got inside the building and out of the cold wind, and I became a little more chatty and chirpy. We bought drinks, sweets and sat on a bench chatting away until we were called into the auditorium. Where we sat in some of the most uncomfortable seats imaginable for a good 20 minutes before the play actually started. I know that you are supposed to arrive at plays 30 minutes early so that people can get seated and there won’t be any interruptions caused by late comers. But if you ask people to come half an hour early, at least make sure that the play starts on time.

While I waited, rather impatiently, for the play to start, I absentmindedly glanced over the pamphlet about the play that had been placed on every seat. It included a note from the director and an account of the Greek myth that the play was based upon – that of Jason and Medea. I will not go into detail about this myth and I will explain why later.

By the time the play did actually start, I was cold again despite the respite from the wind and the jacket that I had thought would be warm enough. I ended up writhing around a lot of the time to try and keep my hands warm, and I imagine that the people behind me must have been getting very annoyed and frustrated with my constant movement.

The entire play, as the title suggests, takes place in purgatory. Only purgatory in this case is not like the purgatory that Susie Salmon experiences in The Lovely Bones. It is not a beautiful place filled with joys and everything that your heart desires. Instead it resembles a prison cell or a room in a mental asylum. Each soul is assigned a healer to try and help them through the process of forgiving themselves and those that did them wrong, of moving on, and once that is done they are promised that they will return to earth.

The play revolves around two characters: a man and a woman – one the healer, the other the patient – who try to help each other through their purgatories by reliving the events that brought them to this place, the horrors of their pasts.

Now for the reason why I refuse to go into too much detail about the play itself and the myth that it is based upon. I read all the detail that was given about the play. I read the myth that was provided, and I felt that I would have enjoyed the play far more if I hadn’t know the myth, if it had been a surprise to me. I would have found it a lot more interesting if I hadn’t know what was coming.

That doesn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy the play over all. I did. The acting was incredible; the music haunting, the premise of the play brilliant. I just think that part of the brilliance of the play is the shock, the surprise, the unexpectedness. The play is not of the confusing sort that, should they leave details hidden in the previews and explanations, the attendants would get lost. It would be easy enough to follow along and understand what is happening, and I think that I would have gotten a far better feeling of accomplishment from following the play that way than I felt from watching, already knowing.

In any case, I really do suggest that if you are in Grahamstown for the festival, or if you are in Cape Town when the play is shown at the Baxter, you watch it. I highly recommend it. But I also highly recommend not looking too much into it. Trust me, the surprise will be worth it.

Fest - Coming soon to a town nowhere near you!

Why does Grahamstown host the National Arts Festival? This little town in the middle of nowhere, this little town filled with University students, most of whom abandon the town at the time of the fest to run along home back to their mommies and daddies and home cooked meals. Why here?

One of my friends asked me today whether Grahamstown has a big Arts scene, and thinking about it… No. It really doesn’t. Sure, there are the plays put on by the drama students attended by their friends, fellows and lecturers and music recitals attended by more lecturers and a couple of locals. But a big Arts scene that does not make. So why Grahamstown?

I have my own theory about this, and it is purely based on my experience of Grahamstown as a town, Cape Town as a city and Johannesburg from the little time that I spent there. Picture the National Arts Festival in Johannesburg. Just think about it for one minute. Think of all the space that the organisers would have, all the places where events could be hosted, all the popular bands who could be included and the big stars who could become a part of the show. And then think about the traffic – how many people would get lost trying to find the place, how many empty theatres there would be and how little exposure the little (or littler) people would get. Think about how much would get lost in the stratosphere as people went about their daily lives. Cape Town would be better, but not by much.

By hosting the National Arts Festival in Grahamstown, you get to experience the talent that hasn’t been discovered quite yet, or the talent that has been discovered and has not been completely corrupted and taken advantage of. You get the big guys and the little guys flung together in a schedule that allows you to see them all. And there is no threat of traffic (or no real threat anyway, though there is certainly going to be more of it than on your average weekday). Think that you are going to be late because there are too many cars? Find a place to park and just walk – Grahamstown is small enough to do that after all.

In a place as small as Grahamstown, the town BECOMES fest. Everything about the town revolves around fest. It is all that anyone talks about and it is the highlight of the year every year. Where else would you have that experience? In a big city, the festival would get lost amongst the ten million other things going on. Here, there is nothing else going on! Your life becomes one of comedy and concerts, ballets and drama, shopping and eating, shows, shows, shows. You are swept up in the arts for two whole weeks, attending shows day and night that fit in with your interests and hobbies.

And then it is gone. Slowly the tourists retreat, the students return and life goes back to normal. The locals revel in the fact that the traffic has died down and they can drive again. And, before long, the talk of the festival has fallen away. Life goes on. It is over. Until next year, that is…

Why Grahamstown, you ask? Because fest wouldn’t be the same anywhere else, and we like it just the way it is.

Love as a Drug

Romantic comedies - I can never seem to get enough of them. No matter how lame or stupid or overly cutesy they are, I will always come back for more, and when I hear about a new romantic comedy that has come out, I always tend to be one of the first in line to see it. When I heard about Love and Other Drugs a couple of months ago, I knew that I wanted to see it. Sure, there was bound to be a fair amount of drama in it - the movie is about a woman with early-onset Parkinsons after all - but I could also see where the comedy came into the mix - her getting into a relationship with a sex-obsessed Viagra-dealing drug rep. The fact that the movie starred Jake Gyllenhaal and Anne Hathaway only strengthened my resolve that I had to see it. And so, on one rather boring Sunday afternoon, I went to the CGV (yes, this was when I was back in Korea - the idea to review the movie for my blog only hit me now) with Jess and (I believe) Shaina and we sat down and prepared ourselves for a giggle- and sob-fest. We weren't disappointed.

From the moment that Jamie (Jake) meets Maggie (Anne) while pretending to be a doctor, you know that they are going to hook up, but you have no idea how since Maggie almost instantly realises the truth and seems repulsed by Jamie's audacity. And yet, even after Maggie practically beats him to within an inch of his life (OK, so I'm exaggerating, but only by a little), he still perseveres and they quickly end up together in a relationship based on lust and fueled by Maggie's scramble to live life to the fullest while she can.

The first half of the film is packed with one-liners that got me every time and had me in stitches for a large part of the movie. I thought that the writers were absolutely brilliant and played on the fragility and fun of the relationship very well. The fact that the movie had a large amount of nudity did surprise me quite a lot, as I had never really pictured Anne Hathaway as the type to go full-frontal for the camera, but as long as you go in there expecting it, it tends to add to the hilarity rather than take away from it, and the fact that a large part of the movie revolves around sex (what with Jamie's job being to sell Viagra and Maggie stipulating that their relationship should remain purely physical), it seems kind of appropriate. My favourite part of the movie was the list of puns that Maggie comes up with when Jake comes home to tell her about the new product that he is selling (Viagra). I wish that I could find a quote for this on the internet, but for some reason or another, there seems to be no account of it anywhere, If you watch the movie though, you will know exactly which part I am referring to.

The seriousness of the movie starts to set in around the halfway mark when Maggie's condition starts to deteriorate and their relationship starts becoming more serious, which is exactly what Maggie was trying to avoid. As she is forced to come to terms with the idea of living with Parkinsons and the idea of having to rely on someone else for the rest of her life, Jamie steps up to the plate and offers himself to her, just about giving up his job in order to help her find some kind of cure or preventative measure. This leads to their relationship falling to pieces, something that Maggie had predicted from the start. Of course, no romantic comedy would be complete without a happy ending, and this one is no exception. The happy ending is, in fact, what I believe keeps this movie classified as a romantic comedy, as without it, I think the movie could only be defined as a romance or a drama despite the comedic relief throughout the first half of the film.

I thoroughly enjoyed watching Love and Other Drugs and would certainly recommend it as a girls-night or a couples movie, as there is something in it for everyone. As I said earlier, do be prepared for a large amount of nudity (I, personally, had no issue with oggling a naked Jake Gyllenhaal and I am sure many men will say the same of Anne Hathaway) and a fair amount of crude humour, but also be prepared for a fun-filled movie with a large splash of drama spread throughout.

My question for today (just for fun): Which actor/actress would you want to see doing a nude scene?