The Duchess SPEAKS II

The main character in our next show is a fascinating woman known only as "The Duchess." As we approach the show's opening in October, we'll be sharing some carefully selected excerpts from her 6,000+ page biography/memoir. In this entry, The Duchess ponders the differences between the classes:

Ah, those were pleasant days! those were pleasant days! Few persons have seen so much of the various aspects—I may say of the two extremes of life—as myself; and few persons, therefore, can be better judges of the difference between great poverty and great wealth; but after all, this does not, by any means, constitute the chief and most important distinction between the high and low states. No, the signal, the striking contrast is not in the external circumstances, but in the totally opposite minds of the two classes as to their respective enjoyment of existence.

The society in which I formally moved was all cheerfulness—all high spirits—all fun, frolic, and vivacity; they cared for nothing thought of nothing, beyond the pleasures of the present hour, and to those they gave themselves up with the keenest relish. Look at the circles in which I now move; can anything be more “weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable,” than their whole course of life? Why, one might as well be in the treadmill, as toiling in the stupid, monotonous round of what they call pleasure, but which is, in fact, very cheerless and heavy work. Pleasure indeed! There can be no cordiality when there is so much exclusiveness and primness,--no, all is coldness, reserve, and universal ennui, even where this starchness of manner is unaccompanied by any very strict rigour in matters of conduct.

I look out for cheerful people when I can find them—I do everything in my power to make them happy—and yet, were it not for the merry and frequent laugh of dear old General Phipps, could you not swear that my dinner parties were funeral feasts? Look, now, at those quadrille-dancers in the other room; they have been supping—they have been drinking as much of my champagne as they liked—the band is capital—the men are young, and the girls are pretty;--and yet did you ever see such crawling movements—such solemn looks—as if they were all dragging themselves through the most irksome task in the world! Oh, what a different thing was a country dance in my younger days!

!PROP HADES!

We've worked our way through less than half of the content in The Casket of Passing Fancy and already have a props list that's risen WELL ABOVE 800 items. By the time all is said and done, I predict there will be at least 2000 different props used in the show. We're trying to keep on top of things--every week a trip to 3 or 4 thrift shops, the Dollar Tree, Hobby Lobby, Home Depot, Target, not to mention a whole slew of online merchants--but I can't help but feel like the props are winning. The list grows longer, our cars get messier, the pile in our kitchen reaches ever higher. Today alone, we received 160 lbs. of plastic boxes in the mail. Completely F-ing nuts.

Here's a random list of a few of the props we're in the process of collecting. It should tell you everything and nothing about the show:

mouthwash

yoga mat

stamps

sparklers

dragon's blood

baby wipes

miniature treasure chest

merkin

cup O soup

moustache wax

edible hat

saltwater

velcro

pigeon shit

goblets

gumball

ten foot pole

The Duchess SPEAKS!

The main character in our next show is a fascinating woman known only as "The Duchess." As we approach the show's opening in October, we'll be sharing some carefully selected excerpts from her 6,000+ page biography/memoir. We begin with this description of one of her first exposures to the theatre:

When I was a child of seven or eight years of age, I was staying in Lancashire with my mother and father, the latter having an engagement to perform in the orchestra. It was there that the line of heroines was filled by rather an antique belle; the tragic hero was too stiff to fall; and there was not a dancer; so they performed very steady comedies; or very quiet tragedies, with dances and deaths omitted by particular desire. But, fortunately for the exchequer, a remarkably pretty young actress, trying her strength during a provincial tour, arrived, and was engaged to perform for a few nights. She could scream, dance, faint, scream, fall, or stab herself, to perfection: better still, in mad scenes she could let loose a profusion of long golden hair which nearly reached the ground, and carried away all hearts within its sunny meshes. She had the pink and white complexion of early girlhood; bright blue eyes, and a fine commanding figure. Indeed, the beauty and grace of this young actress quite turned my head. I attended every rehearsal, and at length came the grand evening, when I was allowed a place in the pit. How I was awed by this stranger in tragedy and black velvet, and enchanted by her gaiety in comedy and white muslin. It was my first serious notion of what could be done in the profession.

it was a good mail day

(the hot-off-the-press new edition of Wallace Shawn's OUR LATE NIGHT and A THOUGHT IN THREE PARTS)

Z Unearthed

It always frustrated us that we didn't have any still photographs of Mister Z Loves Company--more or less our first full-length original show. So it's with great relish that I can report that after 5 years, we've finally gotten around to transferring the video footage to DVD and pulling some stills for the archives. Here's a taste of our "X-rated Self-Help Odyssey." Although a bit misleading, I like the one where it looks like we're levitating.