Appalachian hollows and original Shakespeare Dialect

First, a disclaimer: I grew up in a big Texas family who migrated west from Alabama and Georgia, so dipthonged vowels and otherwise languidly prolonged syllables are music to my ears. Second, the idea that the dialect imported to these shores with early British settlers and nurtured and preserved in Appalachian hollows is closer to Elizabethan English than contemporary standard British is not new. So when Jeffrey Frace suggested that he was thinking of this summer's production of Measure for Measure as 'southern gothic,' I was both intellectually and constitutionally interested. I am currently in New York for auditions and on Wednesday and Thursday we saw upwards of 100 actors interpret what a monologue in a southern gothic style, reminiscent of, say, Flannery O'Connor, might sound like. For the majority it meant dropped r's and a few dipthongs, and otherwise--Shakespeare as usual. But in a small handful, my stars, as my grandmother used to say, with a slightly u-ed tongue, something happened! Rhythms changed, inflections shifted, heat and musk and music arrived in the room. It was a whole new Shakespeare, to my ear--and yet it sounded entirely natural.

More to come on this subject, but there have been several recent experiments with David Crystals Original Pronunciation (OP), which sounds to me a bit like a deep Scottish brogue, but restores they say some of the mysterious unrhymed, to our ears, rhymes in the Bard. Hear a story on it at http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4761275. Or check out his website at http://pronouncingshakespeare.com.

Cosmic energy

I bet you've had this experience: You start reading a book -- say Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" -- and all of a sudden, Jane Austen is everywhere! Scientists discover a new cause of death for the author. PBS goes on an Austen bender. And the Twitterati go hashtag wild with Austen chatter. You thought you were simply catching up on your reading, but actually you were whirling in cosmic coincidence (or a global marketing scheme).

For the last few weeks, I've been focusing my Shakespeare energy on "Measure for Measure." I'm in a class where the discussion is about "Hamlet," but the professor can't stop talking about M4M. And, wouldn't you know, productions of the play have popped up in London , New York and Oregon. (I saw the Theatre for a New Audience production at The Duke on 42nd Street. Favorite actor: Jefferson Mays as the Duke.)

And of course, cosmically speaking, one could easily be led to believe this is all pointing to the rightness of the Stonington Opera House show in August. The dramatic universe is on a roll!

So I'm thinking: OK, people. We're in a M4M moment. The zeitgeist has been named. Dust off your Riverside. Brush up your Shakespeare. The Duke is on his way. In the meantime? Keep an eye out for more M4M sightings.

Is February too early be thinking about Shakespeare in August?

By Alicia Anstead
I've been thinking lately about the way the performing arts, and plays in particular, linger in our thoughts long after the curtain goes down. Plays, after all, are completely ephemeral. They happen, and they're gone. Except they're not. Think of the plays you've been to that have stayed with you -- whether because of the play itself (themes of love or death, for instance) or the circumstances in which you saw the play (the friend you were with or the phase you were going through). The poet T. S. Eliot talks about measuring life in coffee spoons. But some of us measure our lives in plays. I do at least.

But that's about what happens during a play or after a play. What about everything that happens before a play? A few weeks ago, Linda Nelson and Judith Jerome announced that Measure for Measure, directed by longtime friend of OHA Jeffrey Frace, is the play for Shakespeare in Stonington this summer. (Mark the dates: August 19-29, 2010.)

I couldn't be happier, in part because the experience starts now. Or rather, it started for me as soon as I heard the news. Immediately I turned to my handy cell-phone app PlayShakespeare.com and downloaded the text. For three days during a conference in New York City, I breathlessly read the play on my phone while riding the train to and from the event. At one point, I was so engrossed I missed my stop and ended up several stations away from my own. Wow, do I love when that happens, even if I'm late for something else.

On this read through, I was struck by the utter strangeness of Measure for Measure. It's called a problem play, but it's more than a problem play. It's a testy exploration of justice, mercy, personal agency and, once again, marriage. (Remember all the messiness about marriage last summer with A Midsummer Night's Dream?! If not, re-visit the blog posts that explore: I do, I don't, I might, I couldn't possibly "aspects" of marriage.) M4M is set in Old Vienna, but the themes of premarital pregnancy, enforcing the letter of the law, a woman's right to her own body and the shiftiness of politicians are all very relevant in the 21st century. Alas.

Thus begins our journey. Seven months before the show, the art has started to work its magic. I'll be checking in from time to time between now and summer with reports, tips and teasers about the play, the production and other related news. In the meantime, I'll be thinking -- and I hope you will be too -- about this question: When does art begin? When does it end? And what happens in the space between?

This is the first of 2010's posts on ShakeStonington, OHA's blog devoted to all things Shakespeare, created and edited by OHA's critic-in-residence Alicia Anstead. You can subscribe directly to ShakeStonington, and be alerted to all future updates, by going to shakestonington.blogspot.com.

Is February too early to think about Shakespeare in August?

By Alicia Anstead

I've been thinking lately about the way the performing arts, and plays in particular, linger in our thoughts long after the curtain goes down. Plays, after all, are completely ephemeral. They happen, and they're gone. Except they're not. Think of the plays you've been to that have stayed with you -- whether because of the play itself (themes of love or death, for instance) or the circumstances in which you saw the play (the friend you were with or the phase you were going through). The poet T. S. Eliot talks about measuring life in coffee spoons. But some of us measure our lives in plays. I do at least.

But that's about what happens during a play or after a play. What about everything that happens before a play? A few weeks ago, Linda Nelson and Judith Jerome announced that Measure for Measure, directed by longtime friend of OHA Jeffrey Frace, is the play for Shakespeare in Stonington this summer. (Mark the dates: August 19-29, 2010.)

I couldn't be happier, in part because the experience starts now. Or rather, it started for me as soon as I heard the news. Immediately I turned to my handy cell-phone app PlayShakespeare.com and downloaded the text. For three days during a conference in New York City, I breathlessly read the play on my phone while riding the train to and from the event. At one point, I was so engrossed I missed my stop and ended up several stations away from my own. Wow, do I love when that happens, even if I'm late for something else.

On this read through, I was struck by the utter strangeness of Measure for Measure. It's called a problem play, but it's more than a problem play. It's a testy exploration of justice, mercy, personal agency and, once again, marriage. (Remember all the messiness about marriage last summer with A Midsummer Night's Dream?! If not, re-visit the blog posts that explore: I do, I don't, I might, I couldn't possibly "aspects" of marriage.) M4M is set in Old Vienna, but the themes of premarital pregnancy, enforcing the letter of the law, a woman's right to her own body and the shiftiness of politicians are all very relevant in the 21st century. Alas.

Thus begins our journey. Seven months before the show, the art has started to work its magic. I'll be checking in from time to time between now and summer with reports, tips and teasers about the play, the production and other related news. In the meantime, I'll be thinking -- and I hope you will be too -- about this question: When does art begin? When does it end? And what happens in the space between?

A Maine Island View of the Oscars

Wow. OK. 10 nominations for Best Picture? From my vantage point on a small island off the Maine coast: is such excess necessary?!

OK, here is this year's ballot, and here is the glory of running a theater that presents both live shows AND first-run movies: of the excessive number of 10 nominees, we will have shown more than half--that's right, at least SIX, more than the number of nominees there used to be--of the Best Picture nominees. So when you hit that ballot, even in rural Maine, you will have had a good shot of seeing the following nominees for Best Picture--and probably more:

The Blind Side (December 2009)
Inglourious Basterds (November 2009)
Precious (January 2010)
Up (June 2009)
Up in the Air (Feb 12-14, 2010)
Avatar (mid-to-late February, stay tuned for dates)

Is this a luxury of riches or . . . just a whole lot of films being produced?! I'll leave the judging to you. Complete a ballot and email it or mail it to us; the top FIVE (we're going to stick with the old scale!) most accurate ballots will win free movie passes to the Opera House. Happy Oscar-ing!

The Saints Go Marching In

In 2008, OHA brought New Orleans' Own Hot 8 Brass Band to Deer Isle, where their playing brought a packed house to shake the Opera House floor -- and then all of downtown Stonington when they lead a traditional "second line" parade down Main Street on Sunday. Check out this great video of that event, to hear the Saints go Marching in Down East Maine!

Now it's a sadness that our own Patriots' performance was not excellent enough to land them in this year's Super Bowl. But since they couldn't manage it, how about those New Orleans' Saints?! For the first time since their founding in 1967, the Saints are in the Super Bowl, facing off against that old New England nemesis, the Indianapolis Colts.

Why write about the Saints on a performance blog? Opera House Arts has a long-standing connection to the music and culture of New Orleans--in fact, in the summer of 2010 we will be bringing one of New Orleans' legendary clarinetists, Dr. Michael White, to the island to be in a two-week residence at Haystack Mountain School of Crafts, and a featured artist at our 10th annual jazz festival.

The volunteer producer of our jazz festival, acclaimed arts journalist Larry Blumenfeld, is a passionate expert on New Orleans jazz, and recently sent us this link to a New Orleans'Saints Tribute Songs Playlist, including this video of trumpeter Kermit Ruffins' "A Saints Christmas."

Jazz lives in this year's Super Bowl!

"Precious" at the Opera House

Many questions can be raised about our showing of the film "Precious: based on the novel 'Push' by Sapphire" at the Opera House as part of our Alt-Movie Series this week. Why show a film about inner-city tragedy and dysfunction in our rural hamlet? Why show a film which could possibly further negative stereotypes of African-Americans in the nation's whitest state, where few have access to everyday encounters with racial and ethnic minorities? Why show films which detail poverty, abuse and their effects at all?

Because "Precious" is a complicated, beautifully made film which shows the potential impacts of poverty and abuse in ALL of our communities. It is a story which must be told--as Sapphire knew when she published the book on which it is based, "Push," in 1996. “Ralph Ellison spoke of an invisible man, but girls like Precious are our invisible young women—not seen by their own people let alone white society,” says Sapphire.

The character of Claireece “Precious Jones” Sapphire created and whom director Lee Daniels, along with producers Oprah Winfrey and Tyler Perry, faithfully renders is so deeply human and fully realized, not only in her misery but in her imaginative, thoughtful processes, that it is impossible for any but the most pessimistic and politically orthodox critics (of which there have been many, both of the book and now of the film) to not be dumb-struck with empathy and compassion for her story. As Sapphire says, her story and this film are "for all the precious girls" in all of our communities. Let's make them visible, and let's all care enough to take action--as so many do in this film, from school principals to teachers to social workers--to offer them the love they deserve and need to chart their own courses from misery.