1. My most recent Neflix DVD was the Royal Ballet’s production of Prince of the Pagodas – music by Benjamin Britten, choreography by Kenneth MacMillan, starring Darcy Bussell and Jonathan Cope (oh Jonathan Cope! where are my smelling salts?), with a character performance by the incomparable Anthony Dowell in a story that’s essentially Lear + Beauty and the Beast.
Talk about front-loading. And YET. That thing is a dang hot mess. I fast-forwarded through about half of it, just to get to the DB, JC, AD parts. Don’t get me wrong: the music is lovely. Much of the choreography is interesting. The costumes are flattering, except when everyone turns into a monkey.
WHY DOES EVERYONE TURN INTO A MONKEY.
For a story that makes plenty of sense (Lear + Beauty and the Beast), it don’t make no kind of sense! There are Random Acts of Corps de Ballet. There’s a Dream Act in the middle where everyone wears a Ming the Merciless hat. I was not electrified.
Still, this is a lovely pas de deux:
Pagodas1 (She is blindfolded because if anyone sees him, he becomes a salamander. Really.)
The entire scene is here: Pagodas2
Right around 2:18 Jonathan Cope comes out as the salamander. There is some VERY interesting dancing in there.
A couple of years ago, when Anthony Dowell played one of the stepsisters in Cinderella, he made a comment that if Darcy Bussell had been playing the lead, he might have actually fit in the shoes because her feet are so big. I think all ballerinas look as if they have huge feet because of their pointe shoes, but I will say that she is one of the steadiest dancers I know of. There is nary a wobble to be seen. Whether she has big feet or no, she definitely has a solid base.
But, alas, two stars.
2. I went on a search last year for a fountain pen with a flexible nib. I learned a great deal about how much money people are willing to pay for pens that might not even work, and what a miser I really am. Oh right, I posted about this already.
ANYWAY, I ended up with my nice 1910 Mabie Todd Blackbird (much like the one here), which I love very much. Because I know very little about ink sacs, I thought it would be best to keep the same color in it all the time. I had been using J. Herbin’s Diabolo Menthe
Kicky, huh? It’s very pale, but I like it.
THEN Noodler’s had to come out with a “shaded” ink called Black Swan in Australian Roses:
NICE.
And I made the very happy discovery that a lever-filler can be cleaned out with some tepid filtered water, so now I am happily writing away in my goodgy semi-flex pen with a whole new color.
(I also ordered Noodler’s Squeteague, because it is a perfect greyish-blue. I like to order from Pear Tree Pen Company, because they are about the nicest people imaginable. They send their orders with hand-written notes that always tell you what ink color they used!)
Perhaps you would do well to ask a cephalopod about ink sacs. I hear they’re experts.
If I had a pet cuttlefish, we could talk about ink all the time.
The name of the ink is called Black Swan in Australian Roses? It sounds like an interesting version of the “Kama Sutra” that I haven’t read. Heee! And cuttlefish do talk, they talk by altering their shades. Which is odd, as they seem to not have color receptors in their eyes.
I am going to have “Random Acts of Corps de Ballet” put on a shirt.
Oh! I should send you a copy of Science Editor in which my poem about cephalopod color language appeared. It is even better than bee dancing language.
If you make that t-shirt, I want one.
Having finally watched all the bits, I say whoo, and I should watch it both as a restorative against wee small ballet girls (and one belligerent boy), and any time I feel cocky as a choreographer. There’s some fierce pretty there, and put together like an algebra problem.