The Gaming Table (the final event of Culture Week)
In a previous post, I alluded to a recent week in which I attended a Bach concert, two operas (broadcast in HD), and a play. I have yet to write about one of the operas or the play. Although I saw the play last, I’m going to write about it now, since it’s in the midst of its run at the Folger Theatre and is scheduled to close on Sunday March 4, one week from tomorrow.
Written by Susanna Centlivre in the tradition of the Restoration comedy, The Gaming Table is a frothy confection about a woman who runs a gambling parlor out of her own home. The aptly named Lady Reveller just wants to have fun, and she desires the same for her friends and fellow gamblers. (The Gaming Table was originally titled The Basset Table, Basset being the name of the card game around which the play’s action revolves. Click here to learn more about Basset.)
The Gaming Table features the fiendishly convoluted plot twists that usually characterize British comedy of the late 1600s and early 1700s. I for one never worry over much if I lose the thread. Usually the players are having such a mad cap good time of it that I find myself delighted and amused, even if I’m wondering, Now who exactly is she…?
So: Who exactly is Susanna Centlivre? (Lovely name, that: Susanna hundred pounds – or Susanna hundred books!) Here’s the opening of the Folger’s backgrounder:
Susanna Centlivre (1669?-1723) was the most popular female comedic playwright of the 18th century. Although not hailed by the critics of her day, a time when women writers were an unsettling novelty, she enjoyed a certain celebrity. Accounts of Centlivre’s early years are an intriguing array of rumors and hearsay, but once in London she became a well-known dramatist and respectable wife of a royal cook. A prolific author, she wrote at least 16 plays, in addition to many poems and several collections of humorous letters.
Susanna Centlivre
So, where has this gifted and prolific poet and playwright been all my life? Buried in obscurity, alas, like so many other artists of her sex. All praise is due, therefore, to the creative team at the Folger for gifting us with this felicitous (and lavishly mounted) production. In a recent piece in the Washington Post, the Folger’s artistic producer Janet Alexander Griffin said of the works of Susanna Centlivre: “Bringing her back is like a new discovery.”
Just so.
Beware the green-eyed monster! – Othello at the Folger Theatre
Owiso Odera as Othello and Ian Merrill Peakes as Iago
The exact words spoken by Iago, as provided by M.I.T.’s Shakespeare site, are
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock
The meat it feeds on….
What a pleasure to hear once again Othello’s extravagant tale of his wooing of Desdemona, culminating in two of my favorite lines in all of Shakespeare:
She loved me for the dangers I had pass’d,
And I loved her that she did pity them.
All of this, to be systematically destroyed by one of the most coldly calculating characters in all of literature. In Shakespeare After All, Marjorie Garber says this of Iago:
Hate for hate’s sake. Motiveless malignity. Iago is successful precisely because he has no second dimension, no doubt, no compassion. From the start he is all action, and he is everywhere. Flattering Othello, and then Rodrigo. Shouting out of the darkness, and calling for light. Yet notice that in fact he does nothing himself.
Indeed not. He goads, he taunts, he mocks, he inflames passions, he poisons true feeling.
In the play’s final scene, after Othello has been made aware of Iago’s perfidy, he looks down to see if Iago has cloven hoofs instead of the feet of a human being.. It was a moment that cast me back to my college days and a Shakespeare class I took at Goucher College with the wonderful Brooke Peirce. He explained that according to legend, the Devil possesses cloven hoofs. But Iago displays no such blatant badge of infamy. He has the feet of a man – an unspeakably evil man.
The final scene in its entirety was so intense that my eyes were stinging. Emerging into the light afterward, I said to my companion, “I feel shattered.”
I want to say a word about the set. At the beginning of the play, the stage resembled a seraglio, with billowing fabrics shot through with color. Later this same material became the sails of a ship in peril. The mariners were pulling at lines that seemed anchored in the theater’s far upper reaches.
Oweso Odera and Ian Merrill Peakes were both terrific. Odera was born in Khartoum, Sudan, and began his acting career in Kenya. Peakes has several Folger triumphs to his credit. The review in the Washington Post hails him as “one of the finest Shakespearean actors regularly appearing in Washington.”
The run for this production has been extended through December 4. Here’s the trailer:
No light
On August 28 I wrote a post entitled “First an earthquake, then a hurricane…” The first line of the post is “What next?”
I now have the answer that question: what has come next is rain – drenching, deluging, unremitting, unceasing rain.
The historic district of Ellicott City is five or six miles away from us It consists of a few blocks antique stores, eateries, and various other independently owned small retail establishments. There’s the B&O Railroad Museum and a recently opened hotel, the Obladi.
Most importantly to Ron and me, it is home to our favorite restaurant, Tersiguel’s. 
Old Ellicott City is bordered by the Patapsco River; a smaller river, the Tiber, runs behind some of the shops. Nestled in a valley, it is in its way quite picturesque, and normally a pleasant place to stroll, dine, and shop. However,Old Ellicott City can also be described as geographically unfortunate. Over the years it has been plagued by both fire and floods, making it a somewhat Biblically resonant place. On Wednesday it got walloped yet again, as shown in this video, which was apparently screened as far away as Brisbane, Australia:
(Tersiguel’s can be seen intermittently; it’s the white building in the far left corner.)
We’ve been lucky so far – no loss of power, no leaks or floods. But because of uncertainty and continuing rain, we had to cancel our trip to see the excellent small person and her equally excellent Mom and Dad:
Instead, we will go next month and help celebrate her first birthday.
Going without the sun for days on end has been one of the hardest aspects of this siege of stormy weather. Day after day of waking up to a sky the color of dirty dishwater can be profoundly depressing. Meanwhile, they’re calling for more precipitation. As one forecaster plaintively put it: Somebody turn off the rain machine! Actually as I write this, the Blazing Orb, so long hidden from view, is trying to emerge from its cloudy obfuscation. (Well, really, I have to have just a little bit of fun with this!) Go Sun, go! We’ll take what we can get. But alas, it is already in retreat….
First an earthquake, then a hurricane…
What next?
Just kidding, Mother Nature – JUST KIDDING…
It’s been an eventful week. First, Tuesday’s earthquake, an event so rare in these parts and so bizarre that you couldn’t credit what was happening, even though you knew it couldn’t be anything else. Then yesterday – Saturday – along comes Irene.
Here in central Maryland, the storm seemed to reach its apogee last night around 2 AM. As I write this, it’s just after 10 AM, and the worst appears to be over. Winds are still gusting impressively, but the rain has pretty much stopped. It’s gradually and steadily getting lighter.
We’ve been fortunate in regard to our premises. There’s no obvious damage to the house (though we’ll be going out later to inspect the roof). The basement is still dry. Most crucially, we have not lost power. This is almost certainly due to the fact that the power lines hereabouts have been placed underground.
The grounds are littered with leaves, twigs, and small tree branches. But the driveway remains unobstructed. And as I look outside – mirabile dictu – the sun is trying to come out!
Where were you when…
Ron and I were in a Target store looking for various household items when the floor beneath our feet began to shake. Then the whole store began to tremble. The lights flickered but stayed on. In ten seconds it was over.
Ron said instantly, “That was an earthquake.” We proceeded to the front of the store, where we encountered numerous individuals on their cell phones, in some cases, trying in vain to get through. Outside, there were more people milling about. We went back to our car, got in, and drove home – a distance of only a few miles. We were anxious about the house, and its contents – particularly the live one: 
. Everything was as we’d left it. Miss Marple was as we left her; she began begging for food immediately. Thus we knew everything was back to normal – for the time being, at least.
I’m creating a special category for this post. I sincerely hope I never use it again!
A concert at the Kennedy Center, with Mahler’s Fourth Symphony as the featured work
We went to concert at the Kennedy Center on Friday April 10 primarily to hear Mahler’s Fourth Symphony. Christoph Eschenbach was conducting the National Symphony. Video of Eschenbach conducting several of Mahler’s symphonies can be seen on Medicitv. We’ve watched most of them, and so decided that seeing the newly appointed director of this orchestra conduct Mahler live was an opportunity not to be missed.
Anton Webern, 1912
The first piece on the program was Im Sommerwind (“In the Summer Wind”) by Anton Webern. This short idyll, or tone poem, contains echoes of Richard Strauss’s languid romanticism. Webern was also drawn to Mahler’s music, and that composer’s distinctive style can also be discerned on this work:
Next came a rather unusual piece for orchestra and soloist by Osvaldo Golijov. The work was entitled She Was Here, Four Songs by Schubert. This was somewhat confusing. Who exactly is the composer: Golijov or Schubert? It turns out that Golijov orchestrated four songs by Schubert.
The following will give you some idea of this music, although unfortunately the soprano can barely be heard:
Our soloist for the evening was the luminous Dawn Upshaw. If I interpret the program notes correctly, Golijov actually wrote this work for her. I enjoyed it, although I did not hear much of Schubert in it.
Osvaldo Golijov
Dawn Upshaw
Dawn Upshaw was also the soloist for the final work on the program: Symphony Number Four by Gustav Mahler.
I’ve been working on this post for a week and cannot seem to finish it. I keep needing to stop and listen to the music. I could pile on the superlatives, but I think I’ll just go to the video.
Click here for the opening measures of the Fourth Symphony, famous, for their light, almost playful quality, and for the sound of sleigh bells, so redolent of le temps perdu. Eschenbach is conducting the Orchestre de Paris. You’ll hear just a minute or two of music before a requester appears asking you to register. It is of course is your choice to do this or not, but at the beginning level, Medici.tv offers a treasure trove of musical riches free of charge. (Access to the archives requires payment.)
In the following performance from 1968, Leonard Bernstein leads the Vienna Philharmonic. This great conductor is seen here in his prime, completely enraptured by what he and the orchestra are creating. A tireless champion of Mahler’s music, Bernstein was one of the principal reasons that Mahler’s famous prophecy “My time will come” was so richly realized in Bernstein’s own time. (Others also believed deeply in this music’s greatness. The first Mahler recording to mesmerize me was of the Symphony Number One with Bruno Walter conducting the Columbia Symphony Orchestra. It was released in 1962. 
As a youth, Walter had worked with Mahler, and been mentored by him. Click here for a portion of that landmark recording.)
Here’s the final section of the Adagio from the Fourth Symphony. This movement is attenuated in the extreme. I have to confess that having not slept well the previous night, I was starting to get rather dozy. Then something astonishing happened; I felt as though I had suddenly been awakened into another reality, filled with exaltation. Listen: you can get a sense of what I mean:
Here is the final movement. The soprano is Edith Mathis:
Unusually for large scale symphonic works, this Fourth ends by fading away gradually and almost imperceptibly. Note that in video above, Bernstein s baton slowly falls; the audience seems uncertain as to whether to begin the applause. At the concert we attended, Eschenbach did something rather extraordinary. As the music transitioned to silence, he sought to prolong the moment by standing for some time utterly still, with his baton pointing straight up. The hall became completely quiet; the moment seemed interminable. Then Eschenbach let the baton drop to his side, and the applause began.
Gustav Mahler 1861-1911
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Ron wearing his Mahler t-shirt
Perfectly smashing! – Alexander McCall Smith at the Howard County Library
The chairs were arranged so that Alexander McCall Smith would enter the room via a central aisle. This he did, shaking hands with audience members as he made his way to the podium. I was pleased to note that he was attired in a kilt, but I could not get a photo due to the surrounding crowd. 
From the moment this distinguished gentleman began to speak, he had us in the palm of his hand. He was by turns informative, serious, lively, and thoughtful. But more than anything, it was his ready, facile wit that produced great entertainment for his captivated audience.
The ostensible topic of McCall Smith’s talk was “The Very Small Things of Life.” And from time to time, he did return to that subject. But mostly he ranged far and wide, covering a variety of topics, from precocious young authors like Daisy Ashford, to favorite first lines of novels, to the vagaries of book clubs, to various aspects of his own works and his life as a writer. (He digressed – and then he digressed from his digressions!)
First lines, he assured us, must be as memorable as you can make them because often reviewers and critics get no further than that into the work at hand. This does not stop them from reviewing said work. He was very definite about this.
He cited two of his favorite first lines. The first is from Out of Africa, by Karen Blixen, also known by her pseudonym Isak Dinesen:
‘I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills.’
Out of Africa is obviously a title cherished by McCall Smith. He recalled traveling to Denmark and visiting the home of Karen Blixen, which has been kept as it was as a memorial to the author. 
The second of his favorite first lines comes from The Towers of Trebizond by Rose Macaulay:
‘”Take my camel, dear,” said my aunt Dot, as she climbed down from this animal on her return from High Mass.’
McCall Smith was especially entertaining in the subject of book clubs, though he trod somewhat carefully, knowing there were plenty of participants in this activity in his audience. First, he begged us to be merciful, as the authors we were discussing might be suffering from a painful malady, like gallstones. Particularly gallstones. (I didn’t quite “get” this specific reference. Perhaps he himself has had to endure that particular affliction?) He opined that nearly every book club has one member who knows far more than everyone else and isn’t shy about parading that fact in front of everyone. As a remedy for this problem, he suggests quoting Proust, adding that he own a Proust concordance that’s marvelously handy for the purpose. It allows him to quote the great French novelist on virtually any topic without having actually read the novels! He also suggested that book groups draw up a constitution. Then, when someone is engaging in irritating behavior, someone else can point out that she – and it’s almost invariably a “she” – is violating the rules laid down by said document.
(At a meeting last night of our mystery discussion group, the Usual Suspects, we began implementing this last suggestion, in spirit anyway. Members were asked to raise their hands when they wished to speak. And a small bell is now rung in order to bring the group – great talkers all, especially on any matter related to books or libraries – to order. As yet, we have no written constitution.)
At this point in the proceedings, McCall Smith interrupted himself – “You may wonder where this talk is going?” He reminded us of the title, The Very Small Things of Life, but really, no one was worried about what direction he was taking; we were all having too much fun!
He now segued into a discussion of his work. Calling himself a victim of “serial novelism,” he revealed that he is currently writing no fewer than five distinct series! There is, he informed us, no cure for this ailment. One simply keeps writing additions to the series and then one dies. For example, take Patrick O’Brian, distinguished author of the Aubrey/Maturin novels. These number twenty, with a twenty-first entry left unfinished. The fact that O’Brian is now deceased proves McCall Smith’s point about “serial novelism” being incurable!)
The most famous series now being written by McCall Smiths is, of course, the No.1 Ladies’ Detective Agency. Apparently the eponymous first novel was supposed to be a one off, but McCall Smith left the question of the Precious Ramotswe-J.L.B. Matekoni nuptials unresolved. His editor suggested that he resolve it in a sequel. Unfortunately, Tears of the Giraffe failed to offer this resolution, and so another novel needed to be written. This was Morality for Beautiful Girls. Still no wedding! In fact, the marriage does not take place until the fifth novel in the series, The Full Cupboard of Life. 
(Don’t miss the terrific narration of these books, done by Lisette Lecat.)
A vital component of Precious Ramotswe’s back story involves the dying wish of her father Obed Ramotswe, that loving father and fine judge of cattle. His directive to his daughter: sell the herd and use the funds to start a little business. Now McCall Smith actually had some trouble deciding what that business should be. It might, for instance, have been a dry cleaning operation. He considered whether this might have initiated a whole new subgenre of literature. Think how libraries and bookstores might then have looked. You’d wander through them and see aisles marked History, Biography, Politics,…Dry Cleaning…
Here, McCall Smith brought up the subject of the Detective Agency’s sole and vital reference work: The Principles of Private Detection by Clovis Anderson. This book, he declared, is driving him crazy! Apparently readers keep asking him how to obtain a copy. It is, of course, purely product of his amazingly fertile imagination, but who knows – He may have to break down and write it some day.
Meanwhile, though, he gave us a delicious tip: In a future installment in the series, the Great Man himself will travel to Botswana and honor Mma Ramotswe and Mma Makutsi with a visit to the Detective Agency office! It is then that the two women discover something rather surprising about Clovis Anderson…but Readers, I will let you find out for yourselves, in a future installment, what that something is….
McCall Smith reassured us that there will be “tiny white van developments” down the road. Many readers, it seems, have mourned the death of this faithful yet aged vehicle, Mma Ramotswe’s much loved mode of transportation in the earlier novels. McCall Smith then shared a happy reminiscence of an appearance he made in Santa Barbara, California, where a fan – several fans? – had purchased white vans in honor of Mma Ramotswe! (McCall Smith made several piquant observations about California: The polite form of greeting involved telling your interlocutor about your various problems. and the tiny white van anecdote served as a reminder that Californians were in need of something to do!)
[In this space, I have reviewed The Good Husband of Zebra Drive and The Miracle at Speedy Motors.]
On the subject of the Isabel Dalhousie series, the author stated that the eponymous protagonist and he share an interest in ethics. (Isabel, holders of a doctorate in philosophy from Cambridge, is the owner/editor of a small, highly respected professional journal called The Review of Applied Ethics. McCall Smith was the chairman of the British Medical Journal’s Ethics Committee until 2002; he has also served as a member of the International Bioethics Commission of UNESCO. ) He also revealed that initially, the relationship between Isabel and Jamie, who is fourteen years her junior, was supposed to be purely platonic. Advised that the development of a full blown romance between the two would be “empowering” for his legion of female readers, McCall Smith altered the nature of the relationship accordingly.
[I'd like to inject a personal note here and say that although I am a great fan of Mma Ramotswe and company, I'm an even greater fan of the Isabel Dalhousie novels. Each one is better than the last! I love the rich admixture of art, literature, philosophy, and passion. The entire series is a love letter to the city of Edinburgh. (If you've been there, then you'll know that splendid small metropolis to be a worthy recipient of such deep affection.) McCall Smith depicts the happiness and heartache, the vulnerability and certainty that are alternately the lot of Isabel Dalhousie in a way that I find completely convincing. I would have liked to hear more from the author about this extraordinary creation of his, a woman who seems so real that I feel as though I actually know her. 
I've reviewed the following in this space: The Careful Use of Compliments, The Lost Art of Gratitude, and The Charming Quirks of Others; you might also enjoy Feeling Scottish.]
I tried the Portuguese Irregular Verbs series and did not care for it, but after Sunday’s talk, I’m intrigued with McCall Smith’s two other series. Corduroy Mansions features, among others, a dog named Freddie de la Hay. Freddie is a Pimlico Terrier – and please, people, don’t go looking for a breeder; he made it up! Corduroy Mansions has been running as a serial in The Telegraph, just as 44 Scotland Street has been running in The Scotsman. . Regarding the aforementioned canine character, The Telegraph informs us:
Freddie was the star of the second book in the Corduroy Mansions series, The Dog Who Came in from the Cold, in which he was recruited by MI6 to infiltrate a gang of Russian spies.
( American newspapers might wish to consider doing something along these lines, as they struggle to keep their circulation numbers from plummeting.)
Click here for more information about McCall Smith’s series. 
Finally, returning to the No.1 Ladies Detective Agency, McCall Smith informs us that he tries to visit Botswana regularly, in order to renew his knowledge of the country and its people. He admitted that he tries not to be too specific concerning the political and/or technological aspects of society. For instance, there are cell phones in Botswana, but not, he assures us, in his novels about the place. “Anything I don’t like, I ignore,” he stated cheerfully, adding, “There’s a lot to be said for denial!”
The 45 minutes allotted for McCall Smith’s talk flew by. Then it was time for questions.
Someone asked about the film versions of the No.1 Ladies Detective Agency novels. We were overjoyed to hear that there are two more features based on the series in the works at HBO! McCall Smith loved the first series of films, as did most of us who’ve seen them. They are deeply imbued with the spirit of the novels. This was largely due to the unwavering commitment of Anthony Minghella, whose untimely death occurred on the day the first feature film was scheduled to be shown in Britain. (It was shown anyway, as per the family’s wishes.)
Anika Noni Rose as Grace Makutsi, Jill Scott as Precious Ramotswe, and Lucian Msamati as Mr. J.L.B. Matekoni
McCall Smith was asked about casting for the role of Precious Ramotswe. Apparently many “traditionally built” women presented themselves to him as candidates! He actually did have his own idea about casting question: he favored Sheila Tlou, an acquaintance of his who happens to be Botswana’s Minister of Health. In the event, it was arranged that Ms Tlou would appear in one of the films and have a single line of dialog. Here’s an article on the making of the films. And here’s the trailer:
Someone asked how it is that McCall Smith writes so convincingly from a woman’s viewpoint. His rejoinder was instantaneous: “Well after all, I’m wearing a skirt!” He went on to say that empathy is one of the novelist’s most powerful tools. It’s what enables him to write his woman characters so effectively.
The final question – posed by my book-loving friend Meredith – had to do with a book she particularly esteems: La’s Orchestra Saves the World. McCall Smith thanked her for her question – in fact, he thanked each person who’d had a query for him. I haven’t read this title, and I learned that it involves Polish fighting forces and Polish prisoners of war in England during the Second World War. McCall Smith spoke with some emotion on this subject. Apparently recognition of the contribution of these individuals was very late in coming, an injustice that was only barely rectified in time. Here’s a review of the novel, and here’s an interesting article in Wikipedia. The book is also about the healing power of music, something in which McCall Smith strongly believes.
Alexander McCall Smith exited as he had entered, shaking hands with those fortunate enough to have aisle seats. I cannot praise his gracious demeanor enough. And his wit and warmth made for a very memorable occasion!
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I’d like to put in a word of praise for the way library staff handled this event. The crowd was large, as they knew it would be. It was apparent that plenty of advanced planning had been done. Everything went smoothly, with McCall Smith staying to sign books afterward. President and CEO of the library Valerie Gross thanked him warmly, and thanked the various sponsors who made it possible for the Howard County Library to host the appearance of this internationally acclaimed author. She reminded us that this event was in keeping with the library’s educational mission, and that thanks to the aforementioned sponsors, the many volunteers, and the Friends of the Library, it was offered to the public at no charge.
Simply sublime: Bach’s B minor Mass, performed by the Bach Concert Series
Sunday April 3:
Johann Sebastian Bach’s Mass in B minor is a long immersion in an alternate reality filled with faith, fervor and almost unimaginable beauty.. When it is finished, one emerges blinking, cast reluctantly back into the real world. But the memory of this unique experience remains, enriching and ennobling.
You can visit the Bach Concert Series at their website. If you scroll down to the bottom of the site’s home page, you’ll find a link to the group’s Facebook page. There’s a video segment where you’ll see several still photographs, as the beautiful opening measures of the Mass pour forth.
As the founder and leader of this dynamic ensemble, Maestro Dimmock deserves recogntion and gratitude. Presenting this music represents a tremendous commitment of time and effort by these dedicated musicians, but it is also clearly a labor of love.
Maestro T. Herbert Dimmock
Before the performance, we were privileged to hear a lecture given by the renowned Bach scholar Christoph Wolff. Born and educated in Germany, Dr. Wolff is currently on the faculty of Harvard University.
In this excerpt from Michael Lawrence’s film Bach and Friends, Dr. Wolff tells us about Bach’s life.
We were most fortunate in our soloists at Sunday’s performance they were Karen Myers, soprano; Biraj Bakakarty, countertenor; David Kellett, tenor; and Ben Bloomfield, bass baritone.
Karen Myers
Biraj Bakakarty
David Kellett
Benjamin Bloomfield
Certainly the mighty choruses of the Mass, with horns and tympani resounding, afford the listener the most visceral thrill. Here’s the Kyrie that opens the piece, performed by the Gewandhaus Orchestra of Leipzig under the direction of Herbert Blomstedt:
This is my favorite video of the Gloria. It features the University of Warsaw Choir and the Beethoven Academia Orchestra. The conductor, Irina Bogdanovich, seems radiant with joy of the occasion:
Here is the Credo, once again with the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra. The director is Georg Christoph Biller.
:
Click here for “Et resurrexit,” performed by the Paris Orchestral Ensemble led by John Nelson.
The delicate flute solo at the beginning of the Domine Deus is intimate and meditative, a striking contrast to the big full-on choral movements. The vocalists are Horst Laubenthal and Gundula Janowitz; the Munich Bach Orchestra is led by the great Karl Richter.
In the course of my YouTube searches for this music, many delightful surprises greeted me. For instance, this video couples the Credo with beautiful images of the churches of Italy:
I recommend watching this on YouTube; the poster’s perceptive comments can be read there.
Here’s the Credo in outer space! Helmuth Rilling conducts the Internationale Bachakademie of Stuttgart. (I’m regretting having no German language skills, at the moment…)
Finally, click here for something completely different: “Mom Watches Bach’s B Minor Mass.” Be sure to read the poster’s explanation of how this film came to made, and also the delighted comments of various viewers.
Moving away from the Mass but still with Bach, here is a unique, one might almost say bizarre, rendition of “Jseu Joy of Man’s Desiring.” (Thanks are due to filmmaker Michae Lawrence, mentioned above, for pointing me to this fascinating oddity.):
Raucous and rollicking: The Comedy of Errors at the Folger
Darius Pierce as Dromio of Ephesus and Bruce Nelson as Antipholus of Ephesus
By the time we got to the Folger yesterday afternoon, word was already out: this production of The Comedy of Errors was smashing! And so it proved to be.
The set-up is this: two sets of identical – and identically named! – twins race around the city of Ephesus sowing discord and confusion. Cases of mistaken identity pile up exponentially. I wouldn’t dream of trying to provide a more detailed plot summary; it all whipped past us so deftly and so swiftly.
The comedy was physical without being slapstick. Darius Pierce, pictured above, was an especial joy to watch. The set was beautiful and at the same time cunningly designed. 
The Dromio twins kept getting wedged in the too-small doorways. The learning curve was nil!
Comedy of Errors is very early Shakespeare. The date of the first performance is usually given as 1592 or 1593. Could those who were there possibly have had any idea of the unparalleled brilliance that the author of this frothy confection would soon reveal to the world? One wonders….A mere two (or three?) years later, Romeo and Juliet had its premiere. (And wouldn’t you know it, the line “Dromio, Dromio, wherefore art thou, Dromio” magically found its way into this madcap production!)
The Folger has an outstanding study guide on its site. I highly recommend having a look at it if you’re planning to see The Comedy of Errors. Good luck getting tickets, though – our matinee was completely sold out.
Here’s a quick run-though of the plot, courtesy of cast members:
Here’s the trailer:
Irish Evening 2011 surpasses expectations
In his introductory remarks, His Excellency Michael Collins, Ireland’s ambassador to the U.S., spoke of the current economic difficulties in his native land. The situation, he emphasized, makes the riches of his country’s culture all the more essential. Great music and literature provide a needed solace, a sense of identity, and hope for the future.
Take that, those of you who would slash funding for the arts! (Sorry – I just couldn’t help myself.)
Ambassador Collins made mention of an initiative aimed at promoting the culture of the Emerald Isle on these shores. It’s called Imagine Ireland: A Year of Irish Arts in America 2011. He then introduced this evening’s distinguished speaker, whose name I finally know how to pronounce. (It’s Collum Toe-bean, for the phonetically challenged.)
Colm Toibin
Colm Toibin chose “Two Women,” from The Empty Family, to read to his audience Although it does not seem so at the outset, this is actually a love story, and a deeply moving one. I had already read it, and was delighted that Toibin had chosen it. He prefaced the reading by recounting of a true life experience involving his acquaintance with an actor. The love story involves an actor and a film set designer, and this gem of the tale originated in an actual incident that was related to the author by someone he knew. The story “Silence,” in the same anthology, depicts Henry James gleaning material for his fiction in much the same way. Toibin mentioned the fact that James took the bare outline of a situation involving two orphaned children and their governess living in a remote country house – a story told to him by the Archbishop of Canterbury in 1895 – and fashioned it into one of the most disturbing, not to mention terrifying, works of literature ever to see print: The Turn of the Screw.
I am reminded of this passage from Selina Hastings’s biography of Somerset Maugham:
Maugham’s attitude to James’s work over the years was to grow increasingly equivocal, a mixture of impatience and admiration, impatience with what he saw as a lack of that empathy essential to a novelist and admiration for a superb technique. “The great novelists, even in seclusion, have lived life passionately,” Maugham wrote. “Henry James was content to observe it from a window.”
Still, he saw plenty from that window…
Toibin’s reading was followed by an intermission. And now it was time for music, dancing, and poetry. The music was provided by the Narrowbacks, formerly known as Celtic Thunder
Left to right: Jesse Winch, Tony DeMarco, Terry Winch, Linda Hickman, Dominick Murray. Photo by Judy Bodman.
The above photo was taken in 2005. The composition of the group has changed somewhat since then. Tony DeMarco and Dominick Murray did not play Friday night. Singer and instrumentalist Eileen Korn Estes and fiddler Brendan Mulvihill performed in their stead.
First row, left to right: Terry Winch, Brendan Mulvihill, and Jesse Winch. Above, Linda Hickman and Eileen Korn Estes
As always, the Narrowbacks made great music. And oh, the dancers from the Culkin School!
Back to the Narrowbacks. Terry Winch is not only an instrumentalist and songwriter, but a poet as well. (He and Jesse are brothers.) One of his songs, “When New York was Irish,” has apparently become something of a standard in the Irish music repertoire:
At the Irish Evening celebration, Terry customarily reads aloud several of his poems. They can be somber, but seem more often to be gently ironic, even whimsical:
SOCIAL SECURITY
No one is safe. The streets are unsafe.
even in the safety zones, it’s not safe.
Even safe sex is not safe.
Even things you lock in a safe
are not safe. Never deposit anything
in a safety deposit box, because it
won’t be safe there. Nobody is safe
at home during baseball games anymore.At night I go around in the dark
locking everything, returning
a few minutes later
to make sure I locked
everything. It’s not safe here.
It’s not safe and they know it.
People get hurt using safety pins.It was not always this way.
Long ago, everyone felt safe. Aristotle
never felt danger. Herodotus felt danger
only when Xerxes was around. Young women
were afraid of wing’d dragons, but felt
relaxed otherwise. Timotheus, however,
was terrified of storms until he played
one on the flute. After that, everyone
was more afraid of him than of the violent
west wind, which was fine with Timotheus.
Euclid, full of music himself, believed only
that there was safety in numbers.
The poems he read Friday night were from the collection Boy Drinkers. I loved them and am buying the book. 
