I didn't make a grand entrance at my high school's annual play today; the world was too quiet with snow, and I was too sleepy. In any case, this edition of Run Lola Run was quietly renamed Where's Franka?, only in part because my hero Franka Potente wasn't there; a play can be Tony-worthy, but if you're sitting there the entire time thinking, "Hey, it's Jessica! That looks like a brutal dye job, I wonder how much hair she lost" or "Nick's grown four inches -- he was so cute in Oliver -- but I think he's lost weight," suspension of disbelief is going to suffer.
The beginning was so promising, too. The darkness, the techno music, the parents squirming at this new music, and the familiar beat -- until it misses the breathy I wish I were at the beginning of Believe, at which point you realise this is techno composed by your old band teacher, and "Where's Franka?" phase begins full-force. How can it not, considering I'm watching my sister's sandbox-mates swear, sleep around, and pose half-naked in ambient red lighting for a camcorder?
But plays are never about the plays themselves, but about the clash of Titanic egos. (That's a double metaphor, referring both to the Greek Titans and the ship -- you get it.) The most interesting part of the evening for any school function is always the car trip home, when the feeble illusion of artistic completeness is shattered by technical-crew stories, missed cues, screaming teachers, sulky actors and other trivial junk. I'm glad they still pull out the Vaseline for the final show (to put on props and junk at the actors' expense -- this year's contestants were Lola and Manni's phones, earpieces included) because, to quote Ferris Bueller, people on stage are so uptight you can shove charcoal up their butt and get diamonds after three scenes. If I had realised this I would have capitalised. I'm passing the insight on to my sister, in the hopes that my future business partner will instead.
And what business is that, do you ask? The simple task of taking over the world, naturally. If working on amateur productions taught me anything, it's that I should only ever get mad at the people I can afford to -- namely those that love me unconditionally. I figure this applies to business, too.
News update: UBC's going to pot over striking unions, and public schools are now considering a 4-day school week to save $, all the more ironic considering my school just sunk $20,000 into that albino elephant of a production. I'm all for the arts, but I'm much more for alumni appreciation!
The beginning was so promising, too. The darkness, the techno music, the parents squirming at this new music, and the familiar beat -- until it misses the breathy I wish I were at the beginning of Believe, at which point you realise this is techno composed by your old band teacher, and "Where's Franka?" phase begins full-force. How can it not, considering I'm watching my sister's sandbox-mates swear, sleep around, and pose half-naked in ambient red lighting for a camcorder?
But plays are never about the plays themselves, but about the clash of Titanic egos. (That's a double metaphor, referring both to the Greek Titans and the ship -- you get it.) The most interesting part of the evening for any school function is always the car trip home, when the feeble illusion of artistic completeness is shattered by technical-crew stories, missed cues, screaming teachers, sulky actors and other trivial junk. I'm glad they still pull out the Vaseline for the final show (to put on props and junk at the actors' expense -- this year's contestants were Lola and Manni's phones, earpieces included) because, to quote Ferris Bueller, people on stage are so uptight you can shove charcoal up their butt and get diamonds after three scenes. If I had realised this I would have capitalised. I'm passing the insight on to my sister, in the hopes that my future business partner will instead.
And what business is that, do you ask? The simple task of taking over the world, naturally. If working on amateur productions taught me anything, it's that I should only ever get mad at the people I can afford to -- namely those that love me unconditionally. I figure this applies to business, too.
News update: UBC's going to pot over striking unions, and public schools are now considering a 4-day school week to save $, all the more ironic considering my school just sunk $20,000 into that albino elephant of a production. I'm all for the arts, but I'm much more for alumni appreciation!
