Luxuries taken for granted
It was an emotional day today as thoughts of poverty and crime overwhelmed me. A BBC news story about child slavery in poverty stricken Haiti and an email attachment with pictures depicting the hardships soldiers face in war torn countries really got me thinking about the injustices in the world and also how fortunate (and spoiled) I am. This evening, when I stepped into the Joyce Doolittle theatre at the Pumphouse, I wasn't prepared for how the private thoughts from earlier today would come alive at Fortis theatre company's performance of Scorched. Had I been prepared, then I wouldn't be desperately trying to settle my brain at this ridiculous hour.
The play was about two siblings who, in the process of fulfilling their mother's final wishes, uncover her history in a war torn middle eastern country and unravel the dark secrets that plunged her into a 5 year silence. The small intimate theatre had been transformed into a desert with sand covering the floor and a single white rock placed in the middle. There was no stage and we sat in a semi circle around the rock, level with the actors. This set up, along with the white sheets that covered the chairs, was effective in transporting us into their fictional world.
To summarize the story in a blog entry would be an injustice because its clever intricacies would be left out. Both complex and heart wrenching, and with the emotions from earlier today still lingering, I was a crying mess throughout the second half. It was touching watching the kid's anger turn into love and compassion after they discover the horror's of their mother's past. But what really started the waterfall was how the mother still managed a positive outlook despite the tragedies she endured.
Slightly under two hours, it was a little too long and could have probably used another round of editng. I also found the dialogue unclear and dragging at times but I'm wondering if something got lost during the translation from its original French version. My companions and I differed on whether or not it was too serious. They would have liked a little more humour and thought the actors were overdramatic where as I thought the lack of humor was effective in communicating the extent to which war ruins lives. Regardless, it certainly gave us a lot to talk about afterwards.
Right now, sitting in my comfortable condo, warm by the fireplace, with a fully stocked fridge, a comfortable bed just around the corner, and running water and a warm shower to greet me in the morning, I'm trying not to feel guilty for everything that I have. Growing up in Malaysia and spending my summer's in Pakistan I was always aware of the misfortunes of others and it made me more grateful for what I had. Here, in the western world, I get lost in the extravagances and material greed that surrounds me and I can't believe that I complain about things that are so insignificant.
The play was about two siblings who, in the process of fulfilling their mother's final wishes, uncover her history in a war torn middle eastern country and unravel the dark secrets that plunged her into a 5 year silence. The small intimate theatre had been transformed into a desert with sand covering the floor and a single white rock placed in the middle. There was no stage and we sat in a semi circle around the rock, level with the actors. This set up, along with the white sheets that covered the chairs, was effective in transporting us into their fictional world.
To summarize the story in a blog entry would be an injustice because its clever intricacies would be left out. Both complex and heart wrenching, and with the emotions from earlier today still lingering, I was a crying mess throughout the second half. It was touching watching the kid's anger turn into love and compassion after they discover the horror's of their mother's past. But what really started the waterfall was how the mother still managed a positive outlook despite the tragedies she endured.
Slightly under two hours, it was a little too long and could have probably used another round of editng. I also found the dialogue unclear and dragging at times but I'm wondering if something got lost during the translation from its original French version. My companions and I differed on whether or not it was too serious. They would have liked a little more humour and thought the actors were overdramatic where as I thought the lack of humor was effective in communicating the extent to which war ruins lives. Regardless, it certainly gave us a lot to talk about afterwards.
Right now, sitting in my comfortable condo, warm by the fireplace, with a fully stocked fridge, a comfortable bed just around the corner, and running water and a warm shower to greet me in the morning, I'm trying not to feel guilty for everything that I have. Growing up in Malaysia and spending my summer's in Pakistan I was always aware of the misfortunes of others and it made me more grateful for what I had. Here, in the western world, I get lost in the extravagances and material greed that surrounds me and I can't believe that I complain about things that are so insignificant.
posted by sammy at 5:57 AM
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