The Pillowman

Yesterday afternoon Plosk, Alice, and I visited the Booth theatre on 45th between Broadway and 8th(my least favorite part of the city- midtown, tourists, slow walkers). Alice was running late and had to run about 20 blocks in order to be on time for the 2 o'clock matinee we were about to see. But she arrived on time and we were able to take our seats and spend the next 2 hours viewing the work of one of the most talented writers living today.

I first experienced the work of Martin McDonagh years ago when I was in High School. My mother(who is always up on the latest nyc has to offer in theatre) brought me to see a new show by an Irish writer I had never heard of. The Beauty Queen of Leenane was the most incredible play I had ever seen. His shows are dark, funny, and understand the grotesque nature of the human being. With that said, he also explores the beauty of our own selfish motivations. If you are ever able to see one of his shows. Please, take this opportunity.

The Pillowman was very different from the other two shows I had seen which focus much more on rural Irish characters. The Pillowman is such a well designed play, that even the monotone acting of Goldbloom couldn't obstruct the humor and horror the dialogue brought to the show. I won't say much about the content. I will say, if you enjoy the morbid, the deranged, and the poignant questions about how you will be remembered after you die, see the show.

It feels like there is so much to say. So many conversations lately that deem mentioning. Perhaps one conversation will be able to contain the parts of many. On the ride home from Ct tonight I confided in Plosk that I feel terribly bored with human nature. Bored of the obvious motivations that people believe to be hiding by cloaked words and actions. Even the works of Shakespeare is cluttered with the same mistakes human being make over and over again. The same obsessive compulsive dribble. Make a list of all major themes that take place in 5 Shakespearean plays. Then read Japanese haiku from the 10th century and compare it again to the 19th century novel. The themes are all incredibly similar. We are constantly reproducing the same mistakes, joys, and sorrows. We are absolutely predictable. We are all entrenched in the same stories even if each of our lives tell it in a different way. Now, as tedious as this sounds, this is also what makes art universal. This is what makes good writers stand out. The ability to format these boring reproductions of life into something new and interesting. Birth, Love, Mortality, Murder, Jealousy, Obsession, Deception, Grief. All redundant. All necessary. This is however, done wrong more than it is right.

I'm reading David Hollander's "L.I.E." I'm enjoying it a great deal. I'm finally experiencing a book that has ability to tell me a story using all of the themes listed above while being original and surprising. What a relief. "The Pillowman." Another relief. So few stories to tell, but so many ways to tell them. It's the way you communicate these stories that matters.