Cleo kicks it
Tonight we went to the Globe Theatre (yes, still a thatched roof; yes, still open-air; yes, still all those groundlings down in the pit, only now a few more piercings and text messaging than in olden days) to see Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra. As a young woman behind me said to her friend during intermission, “Cleopatra kicks ass!”
Yes, indubitably.
I haven’t read the play, so I can’t say how it might be performed by other companies, but in this rendition, Cleopatra was a totally over-the-top drama queen who wailed and slithered and Frenched Antony every five minutes, and poked out the eyes of messengers who brought her bad news.
Awesome.
Kind of a change from my Jane Austen overload these past few days. The most violent thing a Jane Austen heroine does is call a man, “Sir!” As in, “Sir, you mistake me!” Ouch.
Tomorrow it’s off on some more Harry Potter adventuring as we see the hall where they film the banquet scenes at Hogwarts. Can’t wait. Also spending some time walking around Oxford to see if I can find somewhere J.R.R. Tolkien sat with his friends so I can sit there, too, and feel the power of the master’s incredible talent coming up through me bum. That’s how they pass on tradition and talent here, I’ve learned. Unless that tour guide was having me on.
More later. Neville, if you’re reading this, happy birthday and I’ll see you at Hogwarts.
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