Rereading Dutchman, I am reminded that I live nowhere near a theatre that would produce this play. Been wanting to do Odets' Waiting for Lefty for so many years now. But Clay and Lula...I know that kinda testy dance:
Lula: "Be cool. Be cool. That's all you know. . . shaking that wildroot cream-oil on your knotty head, jackets buttoning up to your chin, so full of white man's words. Christ. God. Get up and scream at these people. Like scream meaningless shit in these hopeless faces.
[She screams at people in train, still dancing]
Red trains cough Jewish underwear for keeps! Expanding smells of silence. Gravy snot whistling like sea birds. Clay. Clay, you got to break out. Don't sit there dying the way they want you to die. Get up."
But, he doesn't. He doesn't know just how serious the situation is, and Lula just kills him in the end. When you play with an instrument, eventually, you will sound a note.
When I was 29 and all the world was in front of me and I was unselfconscious and world-building. Internally, I built worlds of sound, color,...
No comments:
Post a Comment