Dali. “Richard the Third.” Stardust Motel.
The only connection between two of those items, Dali and Shakespeare’s Richard III, is geographic. Both were along the south side of the Thames, one in a galley, and the other in the “new” Globe Theatre.
Dali quotes, along the wall, leading into the exhibition:
“The least one can ask of a sculpture is that it does not move.”
“Modesty is not my specialty.”
“What is important is to spread confusion, not eliminate it.”
On display, as part of the collection was a backdrop done for the movie “Spellbound.” Plus, there was my favorite, the original “lobster phone,” which was a 1938 – I might have this all wrong – Telephone Homard.
(That what my sparse notes indicate, anyway.)
Outside, there was a big version of Dali’s Time. Just love the melting timepieces, even better with me running Austin time.
A little further, there’s a building off the river, with a series of inscriptions, about halfway up – the names of the Muses.
I wandered down the “whatever they call it” walk, the south shore of the river. The new Globe is a reconstructed version of the original Globe Theatre, I’m guessing a hundred meters or so away from the original location. I had a “seat” in what I would usually decry as a nosebleed section, but with the warm Sun of York, cloudless day, up there, a the merest hint of breeze felt good. Wandering around the ground before the show started, I happened across the strangest sight – Roswell, NM Shakespeare Club. Brick donated by aliens?
The play itself was remarkable. All female cast, apparently, but the strength, bless their souls for supporting the lead, was the person who played Richard the bad guy. The bottled spider. The hunchback toad. The misshapen dwarf. The really bad guy. “When bad people do bad things.”
He/she lurched onto to stage at the beginning, delivered the opening chorus bit, and lurched through the whole play, hamming it up, winking and nodding to the audience, and playing the audience better than I played a fish on the end of my line, just last weekend.
Amazing performance. Particular to this production, mind you, I’ve seen this play a half dozen times, in one form or another, was Richard. What a dick she was!
This is also why, no matter how many times I’ve read a play, why this form of theatre has to be seen on a stage like this. I was third floor, up in the clouds. Well, no clouds, but way up there. However, the character lurching, dissembling, wooing and killing so many folks? I felt like she was addressing me – personally – on more than one occasion. Spectacular.
On a stage with groundlings and all. Playing to the audience, or, in one scene, bringing the audience into the play. Quite possibly, the way it was written.
I got all excited at dinner, too, Cafe Fish. The managing company is called “Live Bait.” I thought it was sign.
Back towards the flat, I stopped at a bookstore to fill up my suitcase with treasures, British humor and other tomes just not regularly available in the States. One item caught my eye. The cover for the British/UK edition of Neil Gamien’s American Gods, there was a very familiar image: Stardust Motel. The book’s cover shot was taken from across the highway, on a stretch of lonely road, just at the western edge of Marfa, Texas. Freaked me out, “Hey,” I thought, “that’s my image.”
