Blood and Rain

Last weekend was unusually and most exquisitely theatrical.  On Saturday I went to Théâtre du Chatelet to see Sweeney Todd, Sondheim's bloody musical (or as the French call it, un thriller musicale, sur le barbier diabolique de Fleet Street!).  Despite my less expensive seat to the very far right of the theatre, I geekily admit that these were probably some of the best three hours of my life.

 I can only hope that other audience members were as ecstatic as I, and therefore not noticing me as I actually cried from joy (numerous times) and desperately kept myself from singing along.  I enjoyed every single second.  I admit to secretly filming "Worst Pies in London" and "My friends"...but will not put those up.  You can ask to see them, of course! :)

Act II - the Thames seems to have gotten slightly bloodier.

 My eyes were constantly glued to the stage - well, except for the scene when Todd slices the throats of numerous customers.  It's not that I was squeamish about the huge amounts of fake blood spraying everywhere, but more that I wanted to watch the faces of audience members.  Most were wide-eyed (from enjoyment, from horror, from a wide variety of emotions).  I even saw one woman bring a hand up to her mouth and gasp...it was wonderful.

 I cannot even express how talented these actors are (Mrs Lovett especially).  All have exquisite body control, and somehow manage to sing the most beautiful and terrifying songs while moving around.  The singing really was flawless, it was inspiring.

Hooray!  They deserved the ridiculous amount of final bows they were required to do.
As if that wasn't enough for one weekend, I also saw James Thierée's Au Revoir Parapluie the next day.
This was in a smaller, but still gorgeous, theatre called Marigny, right off of les Champs Elysées.

Thierée is an extremely talented dancer/mime/acrobat (and probably musician, he seems to be good at everything).  His troupe performed magic, crawled and dangled from gigantic mop-like structures, wore insect costumes, balanced hay structures on their foreheads...you name it.  Also fabulous.  To see an excerpt of this show, you tube "Thierée Au Revoir Parapluie".  To you non-Frenchers, the title means Goodbye Umbrella.

Pompidou, the Sequel

This time, I took the staircase straight to the Fifth floor (Modern art, as opposed to Contemporary).  Here is some wonderful stuff:

The fifth floor has many large windows surrounding it, where artwork has been placed.  This way, you see Art, you see Sky, you see Paris...c'est parfait.

Harlequino!  Ou, en francais, Arlequin

MASKS!  I always love a mask...but especially these, freaky and giving off an absurd vibe.

Duchamp!  I lovelovelove this.  The placement of the object is just outstanding, as is its beautiful shadow.

Merci, Rodin!

 I decided to go to the Musée Rodin, thanks to my mother mentioning it in an email.  Et bon dieu, I am happy that I did.  The museum itself is in a lovely house, not too overwhelming in size, and full of great statues and castings. 

 The jardin is even more impressive, and also full of magnificent sculptures, like Le Penseur.

I would definitely place this at the top of my "Things to See" list, especially if you are a tourist.  It is much less crowded than something so advertised as the Louvre, and the gardens are the prettiest I have seen yet.

Silence Isn't So Silent

 I have been to Le Théâtre National de Chaillot twice so far.  This place is called a national theatre because it shows works from artists around the globe.  First I saw a Via Katlehong dance group, which was extremely impressive, and most recently I saw Alvis Hermanis' "The Sound of Silence."

I knew I wanted to take my non-french-speaking friend Naomi to the french theatre, but - how to get past the language barrier?  The Sound of Silence seemed like a perfect opportunity, since it is a play without words.  Before seeing this, I was filled with doubt - doesn't a 3 and a half hour play, without ANY speaking in it, sound torturous? 
But, luckily, I trusted my first instinct and ended up being thoroughly amazed.  The actors relied solely on silent communication.  They used their eyes, their hands, their body language, and objects.  The object-play was perfectly thought-out, as was the use of 1960s Simon and Garfunkel tunes.  Each moment in this piece has great impact because of the image created, the silent communication, and the perfect timing of sound/movement/etc.
Really moving!  Hilarious, tragic, bizarre, relatable, simple, complicated, everything I could have asked for.  For those three and a half hours, my eyes were glued to the stage, and not one yawn or sigh escaped my lips.

Still Movement

Statues are rad. Well, I think they are, in any case.
They are real magic, because they are always two things at once.  Both still, and moving.  Both quiet, and loud.  Taking action, and inactive. 
You never see a big marble statue of nothing, or of a person doing nothing, of a person being still.  Statues always portray someone in motion, while they are in the middle of commiting a very important act.
That is why I love statues. 
Here are my favorites at the Louvre: