As an intermittent mackerel-snapper, every now and then I look around at what is supposed to be my church and feel like the guy in Ionesco’s Rhinocéros who looks around and sees everyone turning into a rhino. And when I read a story like this, I’m pretty sure the wrong guy is pope.
Speaking of Ionesco, I saw an amateur production of “The Bald Soprano” this weekend that was mindblowing. The actors were high school students and (candidly) I wasn’t expecting much. The play’s lines are so meaningless, or so mind-trappingly nonsensical (not the same thing, I guess), that almost everything depends on the delivery, which was great, especially in the penultimate conversation scene, where the actors’ timing was flawless. I wish I had a sample to post here. (“My theater-of-the-absurd let me show it to you.”) But it was a great reminder of how important theater, even amateur theater, can be, something I’m apt to forget here in the Great Black Swamp, which does not possess one of the great theater districts in the world.
On another note, I celebrated Superbowl Sunday by going to a movie (as I usually do): this year’s non-football was Taken, the Liam Neeson vehicle. It’s a pretty good movie, if you don’t mind seeing lots of people get shot. (I mean that unironically.) Some reviews I’ve seen suggest that this is beneath an actor of Neeson’s caliber. But, as the first movie I saw him in was probably Darkman, I can’t agree.