Luc Besson Returns to Sci-Fi

That's the poster for French director Luc Besson's latest, a Steampunk adventure titled Les Aventures Extraordinaire d'Adele Blanc-Sec, based on the French comic series by author Jacques Tardi. Besson wrote and directed one of Sci-Fi's most underrated films, The Fifth Element and 2006's CGI Fantasy flop, Arthur and the Invisibles.

The story surrounds the titular Adele Blanc-Sec, a popular early-20th Century novelist who turns investigative journalist. The beautiful Adele has to deal with a bevy of suitors while fighting off any number of monsters, beasties and assorted creatures.

If you've been reading from the beginning, you know Uncle Prospero loves him some good Steampunk. In fact, I basically started blogging to document my Steampunk-inspired production of Thornton Wilder's The Skin of Our Teeth. And my fascination with the genre goes back to before it actually had a name. I grew up loving the novels and stories of Jules Verne and H.G. Wells (and the countless movies they inspired), so it's no wonder I have an affinity to the movement. The Victorian era saw the Industrial Revolution and Verne and Wells were prescient enough to imagine nuclear submarines, space travel, computers and even wireless communication (though I'm still waiting for time travel, teleportation and the discovery of Atlantis).

As for Besson's films (which include the movie that made my obsession a star, The Transporter and the actioner, La femme Nikita), they always manage to be over-the top, if nothing else. In The Fifth Element, starring former obsession Bruce Willis and future Zombie-fighter extraordinaire, Milla Jovavich, Besson imagines a future with government-regulated tobacco use; vacations on other planets; McDonald's uniforms designed by Jean-Paul Gaultier and what is possibly Gary Oldman's creepiest villain, ever. I, for one, can't wait for what he does for Steampunk aesthetics. The trailer below (via) is in French, but you get the general idea.

Les Aventures Extraordinaire d'Adele Blanc-Sec is scheduled for release in France, in April. No word on a U.S. release date, but you can bet I'll be among the first in line.

More, anon.
Prospero

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Confessions of a Steampunk Nerd

If you have been following from the beginning, you will undoubtedly know of my affection for Steampunk aesthetics. I started this blog last fall, and posted an on-going commentary about my production of Thorton Wilder's The Skin of Our Teeth, which I imagined as a Steampunk odyssey through time. Wilder, probably best known for the groundbreaking play Our Town, broke theatrical conventions over and over; something I hoped to emulate in my production.

I suppose my fascination with the Steampunk movement really begins before the movement itself, with the "Father of Science Fiction," Jules Verne. In fact, many Steampunk aficionados refer to themselves as "Vernian." Verne foresaw nuclear submarines, calculators, glass skyscrapers, space travel and the Internet, among other scientific advances. His novels Journey to the Center of the Earth; 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Mysterious Island were all later adapted into films which figured prominently in my youth, no doubt inspiring my love of Victoriana and the fantastic.

So, what does any of this have to do with anything? Only my desire to have the time and means to attend Seattle's SteamCon in October (though I will likely be in Chicago on a business trip).

SteamCon is to Steampunks as ComicCon is to modern Sci-Fi fanboys; a phantasmagoria of all things Steampunk. And how I wish I could attend.

Call me a nerd, geek or weirdo. I don't care. I just want to be there. I already have a costume and a raygun I made myself. Maybe I'll be able to teleport myself to Seattle. Or not. I hear it rains there, a lot.

More, anon.

Prospero

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"The Skin of Our Teeth" #10

I happened upon this almost by accident, literally just a few minutes ago, but was so thrilled to have done so. This video was made by a very talented young lady, Michelle Dunlap, to open Act III of my production of Thornton Wilder's "The Skin of Our Teeth" for Shakespeare '70, last October.

I gave her the music and told her I wanted a "history of the horrors of war." After a few tries and some back and forth communications, she came up with this beautiful, haunting and chilling video. Shown on a big screen, the piece had the exact effect I hoped it would and our audiences couldn't miss the message. This is the last time I will blog about the show, I promise.

Warning: Some of the images contained in this video are intense and upsetting, but that's what I wanted them to be. Those of a sensitive nature may want to skip this one.

Skin of Our Teeth, Act. III Opener from Michelle Dunlap on Vimeo.

More of this, anon.

Prospero

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Finally!

A brief post tonight. I had a sinus headache all day and am just now starting to feel a lot better.

I finally had visual confirmation of the chicks, this afternoon. For the first time since the first egg hatched, the Z's both came out of the nest long enough to allow me a glimpse at the chicks. The babies are sure tiny, though they appear to be a full fifty-percent head! They were asleep when I looked in and could only make out that they were breathing, but I think all six eggs were fertile. They chirp pretty strongly now, though when they are awake, one or both of the parents are on top of them. I imagine that as the chicks get bigger, Mom and Dad will need to spend less time in there with them and I'll get a better look. I have to start calling pet stores to see what they pay for chicks. Maybe I can do better on CraigsList.

Anybody want a finch? Free to friends*, family and other readers.


*I have to be honest and tell you that I first typed "fiends" here. Once I realized my typo, also realized how it changed the offer and my intentions in a hilariously twisted way. So, just to be clear: fiends will have to pay for them; friends will not.


More of this, anon.
Prospero

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I'm a Grandpa!

First, a warning: This entry has become a sentimental essay on the nature of pet parenting and not like my usual stuff, so you may want to jump ahead to my next entry which is about movies.

The first of Zebina's eggs has hatched! I caught a glimpse of the chick tonight, almost two weeks after first sighting the eggs. The chick is super tiny and looks more like a Sci-Fi alien than a bird; almost like a teeny worm with a wee beak. It's hard to see with all the nesting and down in the nest, but I saw it move twice so I know it's there.

And Zebina herself has doubled in size in just two days! I have filled their feed cup twice this week, added a millet spray and chopped fruit, and she just keeps on eating. She's actually twice Zebadiah's size. As for him, he is now pulling feather's from her back and taking them into the nest, though twice I saw her give him hell for it.

As a kid (and into recent adulthood), I had all sorts of pets: turtles; gerbils; anoles; tropical fish; hermit crabs; Sea Monkeys; 3 dogs and 3 cats. And I am told that I had parakeets (my maternal Grandmother's pet of choice) as a toddler. Many of these pets (the dogs and cats, mostly, if truth be told) hold many fond memories for me. Said Grandmother (a true character who will no doubt figure in a work of mine, one day) bought me a rabbit (Thumper - how creative...not!) one Easter and later bought me my first dog, an AKC registered Schnauzer which we later bred with a neighbor's Schnauzer, twice. We kept one of those pups. Not long after they were both gone, my mother brought home a gorgeous grey-tipped Persian cat named Samantha, who was rescued from a home overrun with pets and children. Samantha was a great cat and well-aware of her beauty, but she bonded with my sister more than anyone. Samantha lived to be eighteen - a very long time for a cat of any breed. My sister was devastated when Samantha died.

A rash of neighborhood burglaries prompted the purchase of my beloved Brandy, a Golden Retriever/Cocker Spaniel mix who was beautiful, hilarious, loyal and a bitch in every sense of the word. Samantha was still alive when Brandy came to live with us, and after so many years of being Queen of the Castle, abused and cowed the puppy into complete submission. Of course, all Brandy ever wanted was to be friends, but haughty Samantha would have none of it. After Samantha passed, Brandy was Queen Bee for quite a while.

Then my little buddy Kirby came into my life; Mom showing up at the door late one night with this adorable young kitty who walked into my house like he had always been there and within ten minutes stole my heart. Kirby's favorite trick was the "slow lap-leap." As I sat on my end of the sofa, watching TV, he would jump up onto the opposite end of the back of the sofa and very slowly make his way toward me. Soon, a little paw would land itself on my shoulder. A few minutes later, the paw was joined by its mate. Suddenly I would find myself with a lap full of purring cat, grabbing at my wrists for attention. If I completely ignored him, he would jump back up onto the sofa back and bite my hair. And he loved everyone - I never saw a more affectionate cat in my life. But if it came down to being petted by anyone else or me, it was always me he chose. It was devastating to learn that at just age 7, he was suffering from both liver disease and diabetes. Putting Kirby down was made a little easier by my dear friend "K" (if you've been reading, you have met her before) coming with me that awful day, even if she had to leave the room when it came time for the actual injection. And to be honest, my biggest solace was that my vet cried right along with me, telling me that no matter how many of these procedures she did, they never got easier.

And Miss Brandy once again ruled the roost. But, as all things must come to pass, Brandy's age caught up with her. She was about 16 when she passed, a good age for a medium/large dog. She was well-loved and when I knew it was time, I called a vet who would come to the house to put her down. The night before the vet came, I wrapped Brandy in a blanket and laid her in front of a small heater in the living room. When I woke up the next morning, I found her with her paw on the bottom stair to my room, as though she had been trying to say "goodbye."

"That's it. No more pets!"

Until three years later when a friend was about to move her boyfriend into her home. BF had a cat, to which my friend was allergic. Said cat, needed a new home. And so came Miss Pepper into my life. BF had rescued her 10 years ago, from a man who could no longer keep her. BF had no idea how old she was when he got her, because she was just a tiny little thing - 3 lbs, at most (the groomers at PetSmart always thought I was bringing my kitten to have her claws trimmed). Pepper was the neediest, most neurotic cat I have ever owned. She had an incessant need to lick literally everything (though she preferred my face and hands). And I mean everything: plastic bags; the drapes; the tub walls after a shower; the fridge; boots; people... Pepper was sweet and weird (one of about twenty nicknames I had for her was "Weirdo") but just a few years later, she was gone as well. I suspect she was older than BF had led me to believe.

Again, I said "That's it! No more pets" (though to be honest, I am almost desperate for a Boxer).

Then came The Skin of Our Teeth and Zebina. The rest, as they (whoever "they" are) say, is history (however non-Earth-shattering that history may be). This is fun, new and exciting for me. I hope they all hatch and survive. Maybe I can even make some money out of it.

This did not turn out to be the post I thought it would be when I started. But I suppose, if nothing else, it's a tiny bit of insight for you (I know there are at least four of you, now) into me.

OK - movies, next! Promise.

More of this, anon.

Prospero

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Back to Real Life

I promise this will be my last "Skin of our Teeth" post.



Friday saw our biggest audience (probably S'70's largest audience ever at TCNJ - over 150!). The crowd was enthusiastic and most of the sound cues were right (I never again got my "winding crank," though). The young lady who ran sound for most of the run was also supposed to make SP lamps and a slingshot for me. She failed there, so why should she have succeeded any better in sound? (I hate lazy kids.) But, the performance was almost magical. The "Announcer' added a bizarre and stunted 'Elvis hip swivel' to his monologues, whenever he didn't get a laugh he thought he should have gotten. Strangely, his way over-the-top performance didn't detract from the rest of the show of show and somehow added yet another layer of surrealism. My Producer, myself and a few cast members laughed ourselves silly while discussing his gestures and posturing at the 'official' cast party at "Homer's" house on Friday.



Closing night was smaller (91), but good. My friends 'M' and 'J' came down to see the show. They are sweet and funny and very silly young ladies who never fail to make me laugh (we saw Xanadu together this summer). And my other beauty, "J" was there with his mother and step-father. I was so happy to see him.



The end, however, proved rather anti-climactic for me. We did a small strike (mostly costumes, props and foam set pieces), but by the time we reached the bar, it was last almost last call. Mind you, this was at 12:10 on a Saturday night. What kind of lame-ass bar has last call at 12:30 on a Saturday night? "Henry" and I each had a beer and then the rest left to go to a diner. I wasn't hungry, so I took Zabina to her new home (she is very happily retired from a career on stage. Tomorrow I am buying her a friend and some toys) and sent out in an email the Open Letter in my previous post. I didn't get the chance for total privacy with "Henry" that I wanted, but I did manage to tell him how proud I was of him and how much I love him. We agreed to go out for his birthday at the end of the month, so maybe we'll get the chance to talk more in depth, then.


So, when all is said and done, how did it go? Very, very well. Was it as personally exciting as my production of Midsummer or as artistically as rewarding as Much Ado or The Food Chain? Almost. It was certainly thrilling to have vindication of my ideas from people who know Wilder so well, and people who know good theatre so well. It was really gorgeous (though I do wish we could have done a better job costuming the 'extras,' but that's a budget issue, more than anything. In fact, with my dream budget, the gears in the roof and walls would have turned as they flew in and out and we would have had actual 'steam' as it all went). And "The Extinct" would have had legs that matched the rest of their bodies (it would have involved cutting foam femurs, knees and tibias and Velcro-ing them to the puppeteers pants, but we also had a time issue). Still, Tappan Wilder (the author's nephew and executor) was thrilled to see them left in, as many productions can't figure out how to do them and either change or omit them, altogether. So I guess you could say I was very pleased.


This will probably be my last posting about my personal theatre experiences until April, when auditions get underway for Paul Rudnick's The Most Fabulous Story Ever Told as part of the annual JTMF AIDS benefit. I will, however, probably post my experience with the "Eden Dreams" Gala in January (another benefit, for an organization which works with Autistic persons). Eden Dreams is both a rewarding and frustrating experience in which I usually end up as little more than a "human prop." It's a long, dull and exasperating night where relatively few in attendance actually appreciate one's participation, and one's talents as a performer are hardly challenged. But, more about that later.

So, for the next few months it's movies, movies, movies (and maybe a raving rant or rambling here and there). Thanks for listening (reading, I guess). It's been surreal...

As always, more anon...

Prospero

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Open Letter to My Cast & Crew

My Dear Friends;


Every once in a while, the stars align, bringing together all the right people for just the right event. This whole mad, grand, steam-driven machine has actually been fueled by your talents and and imaginations. I turned the key and primed the pump, but once that engine roared to life, there was no stopping it. The show grew into a very, very funny and exceptionally entertaining statement on about 5000 topics, while managing to create a living world where dinosaurs as house pets made complete sense (of course, if you're an insane Alaskan governor, it already did -- sorry, couldn't help myself). Who cares if grouchy old deaf people didn't get it? Linc loved it, the conference scholars loved it and Shakespeare '70 saw some of it's biggest crowds at TCNJ, ever. I only hope that each of you is as proud of the show and yourselves, as I am of it and you. My expectations were continually and exponentially exceeded throughout the entire process. A director alone is nothing. A director with an amazing team can create an entirely new and unique new universe. Your trust in and commitment to my vision has gone above and beyond everything I had hoped for and each of your unique contributions to the show added up to far more than the sum of its parts.


Theatre began as religious worship, and I like to continue to think of in that way. As much as anything (and more than many things), art is what makes us uniquely human. And when so many people can come to a consensus about a piece of art and express it through such amazing work, the gods are pleased, indeed.


Thank you all so very much for taking part in such an important production for Shakespeare '70, TCNJ and myself. What we all managed to achieve with this production has not gone without notice and will go a long way toward cementing S'70's relationship with the College and their ability to produce more lage-scale productions on the main stage. As for myself, getting to direct in a space I know so well and love so much, on a show of such massive scale, has been both intimidating and exceptionally rewarding. Getting to share that experience with all of you has been like the gooey-fudgy frosting on a prize-winning brownie. Theatre should feed the soul, my dears. I am so very glad you were all there to partake with me.


I love and will miss all of you. I will never forget any of you and it is my fervent wish that we get to work together again and again. I'd take a trip to Excelsior (or anywhere else we might find ourselves) with all of you, anytime.


Remember to play! I promise you'll never be sorry for it. It will keep you young and happy. It has been my complete joy to play with you.And keep an eye out for those sneaky ham- bushes!


With my deepest affection and boundless gratitude, Prospero


"What hath God wrought!"


PS - One last thing about teamwork (and if you've already heard or read this, it bears repeating. Plus, it's the short version):


Confucius dreamt that he visited hell. Hell turned out to be a huge dining hall, filled with tables laden with every delicious and delightful dish known to mankind. The damned were all seated around the tables, starving. They had each been given ten-foot long chopsticks with which to eat and try as they might, they couldn't maneuver their chopsticks to reach the food into their mouths. They wept from hunger and despair. Then Confucius visited Heaven. Heaven turned out to also be a huge dining hall, filled with tables laden with every delicious and delightful dish known to mankind. The people seated around the tables in Heaven had also been given ten-foot long chopsticks with which to eat, but they were all happy and well-fed, taking great pleasure in the bounty before them. The difference? In Heaven, the blessed used their chopsticks to feed each other.

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Academia, Etc.

Tonight (Thursday, Oct. 2nd) saw the first performance of the second and final weekend of The Skin of Our Teeth. It was also the "official" performance of the First International Thornton Wilder Society Conference: "Wilder in the 21st Century."
http://www.tcnj.edu/~wilder/conference/


We had a good and only momentarily silly pick-up rehearsal last night, so I was confidant going in. It was our biggest house yet (and probably will be) and, as tired as some of the conference attendees were, attentive and responsive. Their energy fed the cast and it was a lovely performance, despite some technical issues (sound is still a horror-show; that's what I get for not running my own sound board - or at least having my best friend, "K,"* run it for me). The "extras" are either really terrific or truly horrible and although the shadow puppets are better (they at least make sense, now), the simplicity of their operation remains a complete and incomprehensible mystery to the manipulators (the above mentioned "extras"). All in all, I'm still very unhappy with the shadow puppets. They are surreal and funny, but awkward and not what I had hoped they would be. Unlike the simplicity of their roles in the other two Shakespeare '70 productions in which student extras from correlated English Department classes were employed, the complexity of this show required more commitment and attendance than the professor was willing to impose upon them. Subsequently, several of them don't care about what they are doing because it's only slightly less effort than writing a paper. A few care, but are completely inept on stage and shouldn't even consider minoring in theatre. One or two care and are into what they are doing, and actually created characters for themselves.



But enough bitching. this post is about crowing! About 25 or 30 people stayed afterwards for the talk-back, and I spent most it sitting there listening to several of the nation's top scholars on Wilder talk about how much they loved my production. I'm not being narcissistic or egotistic in the least. The President of the Society (who is also the English professor at TCNJ who specializes in Wilder and drama), said that we had found things in the play which no other production he had seen had found (in particular, a true character arc for the usually-neglected Gladys) and another conference attendee said he loved the Steampunk concept.


In addition to those folks, many of my colleagues from various companies were in the audience, all of whom were very enthusiastic in their compliments.


In all fairness, though, I must give credit where credit is due: my amazingly talented cast and design team. This was an exceptionally ambitious production, not only because of the design concept, but the technical requirements inherent in the text. There's a dinosaur and a mammoth on stage, for heaven's sake (not to mention the Atlantic City Boardwalk).


My cast - my amazing, surprising and inventive cast! It took a while for all of them to get it, but when they did... Kapow! It was like lightning in a bottle. "Fred Bailey" (AKA "Mammoth Puppeteer") continues to provide the funniest performance in the show. My "Announcer," however, wins the Honey-Glazed Virginia-Baked Award (there's a special place in Director's Heaven for me, just for putting up with him). My "Sabina" is a gift from Thespis and "George," while a curiously cantankerous fellow, is brilliant. "Maggie," my dearest and longest friend; my muse; my support; my left and right arms for this show (she also produced, God love her), just so gets it. "Gladys" is a riot, especially in Act II and the "Fortune Teller," while still a little too fast, is a study in 'young actor goes for broke.' Then there is my "Henry." I can't be more proud. I have worked with this young man on four shows now, and his skills as an actor continue to grow and amaze. His trust in my direction is without question and he is willing to go wherever it takes to get the right result. Nothing gets a director more excited than an actor who is not only willing to do what you want him to do, but understands what you want and delivers it so well. He is quite beautiful and continually degrades himself as 'dumb,' but really good actors aren't dumb, and he is a really good actor. And to top it all off, he's just a terrific person. A polite, funny, personable and gorgeous young man.


So, I am very happy. Two more performances to go. I am sorry to leave this "family." We've had much fun together.


As always, more anon.
Prospero


*She and our mutual friends all know who she is, so there's no need for elaboration. Anonymity is the lure of the Web, isn't it?

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