(no subject)
Jan. 22nd, 2023 11:29 amLast night we went with
sandrylene to see Preludes, the Lyric Stage's production of Dave Molloy's musical about Creative Depression as represented through Sergei Rachmaninoff's sessions with his hypnotherapist.
Musically speaking Dave Molloy always sounds like Dave Molloy and Preludes sounds extremely like Dave Molloy even when it sounds like Rachmaninoff, for better or for worse. The period of the show is very deliberately slipstream-y, with Rachmaninoff talking about dealing with the coffeemaker and people on their cell phones during his performances in the same breath as he talks about adulating Tolstoy and needing the Tzar's permission to marry, which for me at least brings Molloy back into the picture more than he already is; obviously we all write from the inside of our own heads but Molloy is not a guy who is ever bothering to even try and move past that or obscure it, also for better or for worse.
Also, one of the conceits is that Rachmaninoff is eternally divided between the Rachmaninoff who speaks and sings and moves anxiously around the stage and interacts with the other characters and another Rachmaninoff who is eternally a Guy At A Piano pounding angrily away in the center of the stage, and these two Rachmaninoffs hate each other, and often Piano Rach was pounding away so loudly that I could not for the life of me make out what the other Rach was saying, which might be intentional but I think was probably more likely a quirk of where we were sitting and the acoustics of the theater.
But audio issues aside there were a bunch of moments in the show that I thought really hit; the one in particular that is going to stick with me is a bit where Rachmaninoff and his wife and opera singer buddy are out at night having a really good time, singing together and riffing off each other and visibly experiencing the kind of sheer high of creative play, and all of a sudden in the middle of it Rachmaninoff is struck by absolute miserable creative panic -- who made this music? was it him? did he steal it from someone else? is he ever going to be able to create by himself again? -- and the whole moment comes crashing down.
As a complete sidenote, the last time I saw the guy playing Rachmaninoff (the talking one, not the piano one) was as Martha Jefferson at the New Repertory Theater's production of 1776 and I absolutely would not have recognized him if I hadn't looked at the program, but I'm very glad I did; he was extremely tamped-down, mumbling and small in this show (which did admittedly contribute to how difficult he was to hear) and remembering his wildly charismatic Martha Jefferson confirmed for me how much this was a deliberate choice for the show.
Musically speaking Dave Molloy always sounds like Dave Molloy and Preludes sounds extremely like Dave Molloy even when it sounds like Rachmaninoff, for better or for worse. The period of the show is very deliberately slipstream-y, with Rachmaninoff talking about dealing with the coffeemaker and people on their cell phones during his performances in the same breath as he talks about adulating Tolstoy and needing the Tzar's permission to marry, which for me at least brings Molloy back into the picture more than he already is; obviously we all write from the inside of our own heads but Molloy is not a guy who is ever bothering to even try and move past that or obscure it, also for better or for worse.
Also, one of the conceits is that Rachmaninoff is eternally divided between the Rachmaninoff who speaks and sings and moves anxiously around the stage and interacts with the other characters and another Rachmaninoff who is eternally a Guy At A Piano pounding angrily away in the center of the stage, and these two Rachmaninoffs hate each other, and often Piano Rach was pounding away so loudly that I could not for the life of me make out what the other Rach was saying, which might be intentional but I think was probably more likely a quirk of where we were sitting and the acoustics of the theater.
But audio issues aside there were a bunch of moments in the show that I thought really hit; the one in particular that is going to stick with me is a bit where Rachmaninoff and his wife and opera singer buddy are out at night having a really good time, singing together and riffing off each other and visibly experiencing the kind of sheer high of creative play, and all of a sudden in the middle of it Rachmaninoff is struck by absolute miserable creative panic -- who made this music? was it him? did he steal it from someone else? is he ever going to be able to create by himself again? -- and the whole moment comes crashing down.
As a complete sidenote, the last time I saw the guy playing Rachmaninoff (the talking one, not the piano one) was as Martha Jefferson at the New Repertory Theater's production of 1776 and I absolutely would not have recognized him if I hadn't looked at the program, but I'm very glad I did; he was extremely tamped-down, mumbling and small in this show (which did admittedly contribute to how difficult he was to hear) and remembering his wildly charismatic Martha Jefferson confirmed for me how much this was a deliberate choice for the show.
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Date: 2023-01-31 08:47 pm (UTC)Anyhow, was really glad to have gotten to go with you! <3