Now, I know that everyone doesn't love Shakespeare. And I can not begin to measure Laurence Fishburne's sex appeal or what he did to introduce the masses to this great play via the screen. However, I have to say there is little as wonderful as seeing Othello in a modest sized theater on a quiet night with a New York City cast. Othello always makes me cry and usually leaves me restless. This play has love, betrayal, mystery and tragedy. The torture of a character sabotaging his own happiness is dramatic, engaging and the source of classic theater. The truth is, Othello is making me blog.
I am one hour out of the theater and still giddy with pleasure from having seen this delicious play. The buzz of the lobby settled into the hum of the seated wait. The doors closed and the lights went down. I held my breath. And in just and instant, I was in love, again. I fell in love with Othello and the magic of the stage.
What is it about the moment between the blackness of the theater and the actor's first word that draws the least of us into the writer's tale? I get dizzy with delight at every opening scene and each time the play resumes after intermission. With every blackout or change of scene, I move to the edge of my chair. I anticipate the actor's next word, subtle gesture or dramatic silence. I love this stuff! It never gets old! Yet I rarely stop to take it in or contribute my share to the creative well.
Who knew that a great performance would move me to late night musings on the majesty of the stage and the mystery of the craft. And even more surprising, is that the Moor moved me to the dark side and finally get me to blog.
I don't know what I am going to write about or how often I am going to write. I just know there are joys such as plays, the smell of lilies and connecting with old friends that warrant a word and/or reflection. So, I'll show up as often as I am inspired. I'll show up with the hope of a dialogue with you.
Welcome to my blog. I've been waiting for you.
