Tales from the book of Mephistopholes

This is a bad thing, guys. I'm completely enamoured of the sound of that name, and I neither know how to spell it properly, or who the man is. I'm assuming he's a Greek person, though he could as easily be a Greek dish. "Mephistopholes with clam sauce, and a side of spanakopitos, please."

So, on Sunday I got to ride in the truck of fame, all the way to the Theatre on Gay Street (the one right next to the Washington Episcopal Church) to see the Cambride Players put on a production of old Willie's Much Ado About Nothing. I have a feeling I enjoyed it. The ride was certainly a trip. I rode with Rt. Hon. and Joe, listening to a fascinating expose by Rt. Hon. about his future, or lack thereof. I also got to have the distinction and privilege of holding the Turkish Pipe. (Beat that!) It was great fun. The funnest part, though, was before we left campus. Laura couldn't seem to start the car she had borrowed. When Paul came back from having sucessfully started said car, I asked if it were girlproof or something. "Evidently."

Anyway, the Shakespeare was good. They staged the play as if it were in late 1930s England, which made the cartoon aspect of doublet and hose fade into the background somewhat, but the story was very much alive, and a bit old. And a bit cartoonish. According to one critic, a few of the actors were so full of themselves, they were unable to do a good job portraying a person who was full of themself. I didn't get that. Rather, it all just seemed a little rough around the edges. It was a bit coarse, meaning not fine tuned, and perhaps a tad overdone. No, make that a lot overdone. Over the top.

I'm not going to get in to the interpretation of it, because you really had to be there to get what I'm saying. (I say that, now here I go getting into the interpretation anyway.) Suffice to say that there was a very very very very very very very strong undercurrent of, um, well, disordered sorts of, well, um, ahem. Yes. Anyway...yeah. The constable had a thing for the men he was cross-examining. I think that's a nice delicate way to put it. I didn't really appreciate that spin, but not knowing the play very well, but knowing that Shakespeare can get a little spicy, I just tried to overlook it. Roommate #1 says, and she knows the work intimately it being one of her favorites, said that that particular undercurrent did not seem as prevalent in the written work, as the Players decided to make it.

Their call. It did make the entire thing somewhat maudlin, though. There was a girl playing a guy, who was hitting on a guy, who was also being played by a girl. Ugh. However, it was a neatly done performace, there was some real talent, and (if you were like Joe and didn't have your glasses and hence couldn't see a lot of the unpleasant action onstage but were only enjoying the dialogue) the messy bits could be overlooked. It was somewhat heartening, by the way, that it took the elite English people an entire act to slow down and become comprehendable.

Time to go. Test tomorrow. Ciao. (I didn't proofread this. Messy.)