Tonight marks the premiere of My Fair Lady, on Gamle Scene. I am quite excited to see it at some point during its run (April 30-June 5), if only because I love love love the Audrey Hepburn movie version. And the cast has been rehearsing in the ballet's theatre, which means that for the past couple of months I've been lucky enough to walk into work to the dulcet tones of live orchestra and professional singers belting out the excellent score of this musical. I've also caught glimpses of some of the costumes, and let me just say: They are quirky, whimsical, giant teacups-as-hats are involved, and I love them.
The production has been the subject of some controversy here in Denmark, bringing up a legal debate about whether musicals should be performed at any of the three stages, since they are not definitively classified as any one of the three art forms: opera, acting, or ballet. Either way, it will be interesting to see what this production has to offer, and how the public receives it. I, for one, am looking forward to it; and since I know the story and the music, it will be a free Danish lesson for me--bonus :) [Side note: You gotta love a country where a musical can stir up legitimate controversy in the media...]
Det Kongelige Teater offers this description (excuse the Google Translation):
"For the first time ever, bring the Royal Theatre musical classic My Fair Lady on the poster. What's in the spring of 2010 at Old Stage where national scene unites its actors, singers and musicians in a new construction of this classic tale that is full of the best musical numbers and are known from the movie with Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison.
My Fair Lady is the story of flower girl Eliza, who learns to make the bourgeoisie, as the stiff-necked and nostalgic Professor Higgins takes her on a grand tour of the old virtues. Along the way, however, they both learn about who they are and what they are, they are seeking in their lives.
The actors in the festive musical include Søren Pilmark, who returns to the Royal Theatre in the role of Professor Higgins - a role he shares with Tom Jensen. Eliza Doolittle, as Higgins takes under his wing, played by Cecilie Stenspil, who has gained great success for her key role in DR-Series Body-Guard and the role of Bess in Breaking the Waves at Odense Theatre. Among the other participants, we meet such Zlatko Buric as Alfred Doolittle and Malene Schwartz as Mrs. Higgins.
Opera Chief Kasper Holten stands for the new, colorful staging."
And two videos, from kglteater.net:
Friday, April 30, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Post-Performance Winding Down...
After a show, I like to spend time noodling about the information superhighway that is the Internet, looking for random stuff, Facebooking, Skyping with family. Sometimes, said noodling brings about fun little discoveries, like this Caricature Map of Europe in 1914:
The Raveonettes (again)
I have professed my love for this Danish duo before, and I'm doing it again today. Here's a little Heart of Stone, complete with animation and a little twang and an excuse to use the word "Raveonette."
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Danish Lessons, Chapter 8
I have been in Denmark for a pretty long time--almost 10 months now. (Hey, I could have had a baby!) I like to think I have learned much along the way, and here are more uselessly sarcastic life lessons from Vikingland...
1. If a fabulous fellow American comes to town for about a week over Easter, don't freak out that you're smiling and laughing/snorting more than usual. It's fine; nay, enjoy it. (Your face could use a break from looking sarcastic.) Take her out to experience all that Copenhagen has to offer--this means good food, nights of frivolity, and of course a gnome statue or two.
2. Visit Hamlet's Castle. Why? Well, it's Good Friday; but mostly because it's there. Discover that the Danes of yore were clearly true visionaries, since to you, it seems they must have been inspired by all sorts of futuristic things: Narnia; Pandora's Box; George Balanchine's Serenade; various dungeon-inspired video games.
3. You will find no Easter eggs this year. In fact, you won't have eggs at all (except as an ingredient in delicious cake made by your friend hosting a lovely holiday dinner). This is shockingly easier to accept than you thought. Plus, no hard-boiled egg sandwiches for the next week, and no vinegary smell when dyeing said eggs, like at home.
4. Let's say your friend calls you up on a Friday night which you fully intended to spend indoors, doing nothing except maybe watching that one Robert Downey Jr. movie you own. Be glad that you decide to go against your initial plan when he calls you up to grab a drink. Enjoy your first wienerschnitzel. Be even happier when you run into another friend, and end up at a German-Danish folk band concert at a community center in your neighborhood, which ends up involving old music, a cute unfortunately married guitarist, and lots of foolish dance moves. Spontaneous actions = excellent fun.
5. Before dinner on Saturday night, you meet up with a good friend and two new soon-to-be friends at Palæ Bar for a pre-food beer. This turns out to be where the orchestra hangs out, but that actually doesn't matter. What does matter is that you may walk in to find yourself surrounded by really intoxicated people at a fairly early hour for such levels of drunkenness. They're not dangerous, but they do provide some of the best people-watching you have ever witnessed in Denmark. Like the bleached blond, stumbling drunk young(ish) woman, tottering into the low-key bar looking like she's going to prom 20 years too late. Feel free to wonder how her night ended up, especially after seeing her cozy up to a much-older gentleman whose outfit appears to have been inspired by old Mafia movies.
6. Go to a restaurant called Khun-Juk with your friends. It. Is. Amazing. Plus, the people who run the place seem to love the Royal Danish Ballet dancers, and you get free champagne and appetizers. Ok, so while you're waiting for your table you might be directed to an oddly empty bar showing crappy music videos on the flat screen TVs. But no worries, it's worth the wait. Also plus, the place inspires conversation topics ranging from monogamy to Villa Salo to the odd couple at the next table over. These are all ingredients which lead to a super Saturday evening in Copenhagen.
7. After dinner and drinks, avoid Danish design chairs. THEY ARE NOT MEANT TO BE SAT ON BY THE AWKWARD LIKES OF YOU. You might fall. Maybe. I'm just saying. (And later, if the power suddenly goes out at a bar, it's time to go home.)
8. Take any and every opportunity to go outside in Scandinavian springtime. The sunshine does shocking things to your mood; suddenly you're not cloaked in *so* much sarcasm. Or wool, for that matter. That's right: Bust out the tights and put on a skirt, it's no longer three-pairs-of-pants weather.
9. Let's say you're a U.S. Marine in a cool interpretation of Othello. The best way to warm up is to mock breakdance in the wings, which in turn inspires laughter, which in turn inspires your abs being ready to go. You will be paranoid about your waaaay too big army pants falling down, checking the flimsy belt for security multiple times (much to the amusement of your fellow dancers) before going onstage. But your pigtails will be a minor hit, and provide for some eye-opening photo-ops. Including one where you resemble your mixed breed puppy, left in the care of family members back home.
10. If you end up at a nightclub (purpose: listen to the DJ for a forthcoming hotel event) with some of your friends, be prepared to feel completely out of place. Upon entering the place clad in mostly black and very dirty Converse sneakers, you may find yourself surrounded by extremely tall blond women who seem to be missing crucial articles of clothing, wearing dangerously high shoes; and clean cut, polo-clad, lurking-by-the-bar sorts of men. It's ok, though. You and your friends manage to have a fabulous time, and be home by a very decent hour.
11. Enjoy the feeling of removing the cream-colored unitard and matching swimcap you wear for En Skærsommernatsdrøm for the 17th (and last) time. That feeling is freedom. Until you don a nude leotard next month for The Cage.
12. After the premiere of Othello, it is totally okay to eat three pieces of drømmekage. Look, it translates to dream cake, there's nothing not to love about it, and you just busted your butt imitating war, post-war party, and war funeral activities. So go nuts.
13. At a group birthday party, if the music is good and you feel sassy in your spring-inspired outfit and you want to be a complete goofball in terms of the off-duty dance moves you produce? Go right ahead. Because you will end up having a fantastic, funny, foolishly energetic evening. (And yes, if you do it right, the MC Hammer and the tango will be included in said dance moves.)
14. You don't advocate divorce, but your neighbors could use some counseling. Their incredibly drunk fights (all in bellowing, nasal Danish) sound as though they are happening in your little apartment. Their bear/dog is no better; the worst is that said fights end only when the aforementioned beast begins howling...and its classy owners join in. If this finally becomes too much for you, it's perfectly okay to have your father internationally prank call your neighbors. Because this quiets them down, which makes you happy, and it is, in fact, all about you.
15. If your good friend knits you a purple legwarmer with the word "SLUT" running down the leg in bright red lettering, don't be offended. This means "Finished" or "Done" in Danish. You're not easy, you're cultural.
16. Finally, just a friendly reminder to keep going to the sauna. It does wonders for your mood. And the skin on your face. Also--when you catch an attractive phlegmy cold thanks to Copenhagen's schizophrenic spring weather--your lungs and nasal passages. I know, that's gross, but so is the black lung, and which would you rather have?
1. If a fabulous fellow American comes to town for about a week over Easter, don't freak out that you're smiling and laughing/snorting more than usual. It's fine; nay, enjoy it. (Your face could use a break from looking sarcastic.) Take her out to experience all that Copenhagen has to offer--this means good food, nights of frivolity, and of course a gnome statue or two.
2. Visit Hamlet's Castle. Why? Well, it's Good Friday; but mostly because it's there. Discover that the Danes of yore were clearly true visionaries, since to you, it seems they must have been inspired by all sorts of futuristic things: Narnia; Pandora's Box; George Balanchine's Serenade; various dungeon-inspired video games.
3. You will find no Easter eggs this year. In fact, you won't have eggs at all (except as an ingredient in delicious cake made by your friend hosting a lovely holiday dinner). This is shockingly easier to accept than you thought. Plus, no hard-boiled egg sandwiches for the next week, and no vinegary smell when dyeing said eggs, like at home.
4. Let's say your friend calls you up on a Friday night which you fully intended to spend indoors, doing nothing except maybe watching that one Robert Downey Jr. movie you own. Be glad that you decide to go against your initial plan when he calls you up to grab a drink. Enjoy your first wienerschnitzel. Be even happier when you run into another friend, and end up at a German-Danish folk band concert at a community center in your neighborhood, which ends up involving old music, a cute unfortunately married guitarist, and lots of foolish dance moves. Spontaneous actions = excellent fun.
5. Before dinner on Saturday night, you meet up with a good friend and two new soon-to-be friends at Palæ Bar for a pre-food beer. This turns out to be where the orchestra hangs out, but that actually doesn't matter. What does matter is that you may walk in to find yourself surrounded by really intoxicated people at a fairly early hour for such levels of drunkenness. They're not dangerous, but they do provide some of the best people-watching you have ever witnessed in Denmark. Like the bleached blond, stumbling drunk young(ish) woman, tottering into the low-key bar looking like she's going to prom 20 years too late. Feel free to wonder how her night ended up, especially after seeing her cozy up to a much-older gentleman whose outfit appears to have been inspired by old Mafia movies.
6. Go to a restaurant called Khun-Juk with your friends. It. Is. Amazing. Plus, the people who run the place seem to love the Royal Danish Ballet dancers, and you get free champagne and appetizers. Ok, so while you're waiting for your table you might be directed to an oddly empty bar showing crappy music videos on the flat screen TVs. But no worries, it's worth the wait. Also plus, the place inspires conversation topics ranging from monogamy to Villa Salo to the odd couple at the next table over. These are all ingredients which lead to a super Saturday evening in Copenhagen.
7. After dinner and drinks, avoid Danish design chairs. THEY ARE NOT MEANT TO BE SAT ON BY THE AWKWARD LIKES OF YOU. You might fall. Maybe. I'm just saying. (And later, if the power suddenly goes out at a bar, it's time to go home.)
8. Take any and every opportunity to go outside in Scandinavian springtime. The sunshine does shocking things to your mood; suddenly you're not cloaked in *so* much sarcasm. Or wool, for that matter. That's right: Bust out the tights and put on a skirt, it's no longer three-pairs-of-pants weather.
9. Let's say you're a U.S. Marine in a cool interpretation of Othello. The best way to warm up is to mock breakdance in the wings, which in turn inspires laughter, which in turn inspires your abs being ready to go. You will be paranoid about your waaaay too big army pants falling down, checking the flimsy belt for security multiple times (much to the amusement of your fellow dancers) before going onstage. But your pigtails will be a minor hit, and provide for some eye-opening photo-ops. Including one where you resemble your mixed breed puppy, left in the care of family members back home.
10. If you end up at a nightclub (purpose: listen to the DJ for a forthcoming hotel event) with some of your friends, be prepared to feel completely out of place. Upon entering the place clad in mostly black and very dirty Converse sneakers, you may find yourself surrounded by extremely tall blond women who seem to be missing crucial articles of clothing, wearing dangerously high shoes; and clean cut, polo-clad, lurking-by-the-bar sorts of men. It's ok, though. You and your friends manage to have a fabulous time, and be home by a very decent hour.
11. Enjoy the feeling of removing the cream-colored unitard and matching swimcap you wear for En Skærsommernatsdrøm for the 17th (and last) time. That feeling is freedom. Until you don a nude leotard next month for The Cage.
12. After the premiere of Othello, it is totally okay to eat three pieces of drømmekage. Look, it translates to dream cake, there's nothing not to love about it, and you just busted your butt imitating war, post-war party, and war funeral activities. So go nuts.
13. At a group birthday party, if the music is good and you feel sassy in your spring-inspired outfit and you want to be a complete goofball in terms of the off-duty dance moves you produce? Go right ahead. Because you will end up having a fantastic, funny, foolishly energetic evening. (And yes, if you do it right, the MC Hammer and the tango will be included in said dance moves.)
14. You don't advocate divorce, but your neighbors could use some counseling. Their incredibly drunk fights (all in bellowing, nasal Danish) sound as though they are happening in your little apartment. Their bear/dog is no better; the worst is that said fights end only when the aforementioned beast begins howling...and its classy owners join in. If this finally becomes too much for you, it's perfectly okay to have your father internationally prank call your neighbors. Because this quiets them down, which makes you happy, and it is, in fact, all about you.
15. If your good friend knits you a purple legwarmer with the word "SLUT" running down the leg in bright red lettering, don't be offended. This means "Finished" or "Done" in Danish. You're not easy, you're cultural.
16. Finally, just a friendly reminder to keep going to the sauna. It does wonders for your mood. And the skin on your face. Also--when you catch an attractive phlegmy cold thanks to Copenhagen's schizophrenic spring weather--your lungs and nasal passages. I know, that's gross, but so is the black lung, and which would you rather have?
Sounds of Denmark
So clearly, music is a big part of my life. Before coming to Denmark--apart from a misguided Hanson phase in 3rd grade--I knew the music I liked. I grew up on the Grateful Dead, the Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, Velvet Underground, etc.; from my generation, I love The Strokes, Wolf Parade, The Decemberists, Arcade Fire, things like that. You get the idea. There was very little music I wouldn't listen to. But in that small category? Country; polka; anything by Miley Cyrus or an American Idol contestant; and techno/electronic/dance.
Coming to this country and going out on free nights, I was at first dismayed to discover: Danes love them some electronic tunes. I had spent many years mocking this genre of music. I had no intention of ever going out and dancing to it. Give me some Chubby Checker, or Tina Turner, or any song from a decade before my time to which I can bust an idiotic dance move, and I'm good. But senseless beats produced by a large soundsystem? I never understood the appeal.
However, I slowly learned to become open-minded. One of my first weekends out with some new ballet friends, I apparently saw The Knife at Vega, a nightclub in Vesterbro. I remember having no idea who The Knife was, but I was mildly confused as to why the DJs behind the turntables were spinning "mad beats" with creepy masks on. Slowly but surely, the more I got used to hearing this kind of music in the right fun setting, the more I accepted it.
I am now only mildly ashamed to say that I have tentatively embraced this genre for what it is, and have a tiny collection of such music on my beloved iPod Touch. The Knife, Trentemøller, Röyksopp...I am now familiar with these names and some of their music. This is NOT to say I have abandoned my beloved rock n' roll and oldies; when I go out, I much prefer to be the idiot on the dance floor belting out Elton John (or, more ideally, Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody, aka best karaoke song ever) or busting out the old classic MC Hammer.
Nonetheless, enjoy this "old" one from The Knife, called Like a Pen...it's not so bad. And hey, there's weird animation. I do love cartoons.
Then enjoy one of my personal favorites, by The Contours. Seriously, it's not a party if I can't mashed potato.
Coming to this country and going out on free nights, I was at first dismayed to discover: Danes love them some electronic tunes. I had spent many years mocking this genre of music. I had no intention of ever going out and dancing to it. Give me some Chubby Checker, or Tina Turner, or any song from a decade before my time to which I can bust an idiotic dance move, and I'm good. But senseless beats produced by a large soundsystem? I never understood the appeal.
However, I slowly learned to become open-minded. One of my first weekends out with some new ballet friends, I apparently saw The Knife at Vega, a nightclub in Vesterbro. I remember having no idea who The Knife was, but I was mildly confused as to why the DJs behind the turntables were spinning "mad beats" with creepy masks on. Slowly but surely, the more I got used to hearing this kind of music in the right fun setting, the more I accepted it.
I am now only mildly ashamed to say that I have tentatively embraced this genre for what it is, and have a tiny collection of such music on my beloved iPod Touch. The Knife, Trentemøller, Röyksopp...I am now familiar with these names and some of their music. This is NOT to say I have abandoned my beloved rock n' roll and oldies; when I go out, I much prefer to be the idiot on the dance floor belting out Elton John (or, more ideally, Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody, aka best karaoke song ever) or busting out the old classic MC Hammer.
Nonetheless, enjoy this "old" one from The Knife, called Like a Pen...it's not so bad. And hey, there's weird animation. I do love cartoons.
Then enjoy one of my personal favorites, by The Contours. Seriously, it's not a party if I can't mashed potato.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
the city so nice, they named it twice...old New York
With a free Monday because of Othello performances, I am up early in the hopes of being productive. I'm helping a friend move this morning, and having a girls' afternoon later. But I found some pictures of my home, my beloved New York, from 1942 that started off my morning in a fabulous sort of way. (Source: citynoise.org)
The Brooklyn Bridge from South St. Manhattan. (And no part of it is for sale, so never believe that ;-P)
Salvage collection on the Lower East Side.
West Canal St. (Apparently, Ex-Lax was a big seller...)
On the corner of Pearl St. I love these.
East 7th St. Love me an old ale house.
The Brooklyn Bridge from South St. Manhattan. (And no part of it is for sale, so never believe that ;-P)
Salvage collection on the Lower East Side.
West Canal St. (Apparently, Ex-Lax was a big seller...)
On the corner of Pearl St. I love these.
East 7th St. Love me an old ale house.
Lost in Translation
Sometimes, the theatre's translations from Danish to English are a source of amusement for us foreigners. Perfect example:
In Danish, it reads:
"Kære Alle!
I forbindelse med afviklingen af "Exit, Pursued by a Bear" er vi desværre nødt til at bede om fred på scenen. Forestillingen er båd meget lys- og lydfølsom, og vi beder derfor om, at der ikke er folk siderne, som ikke har noget med forestillingen at gøre."
Apparently, Google translated that to mean the following:
"Dear All!
In connection with the liquidation of "Exit, Pursued by a Bear" is, unfortunately, we have to pray for peace on stage. The performance is both very light and sound sensitivity, and we therefore ask that there are people in the pages that do not have anything with the idea to do."
I love it. It makes perfect nonsense.
In Danish, it reads:
"Kære Alle!
I forbindelse med afviklingen af "Exit, Pursued by a Bear" er vi desværre nødt til at bede om fred på scenen. Forestillingen er båd meget lys- og lydfølsom, og vi beder derfor om, at der ikke er folk siderne, som ikke har noget med forestillingen at gøre."
Apparently, Google translated that to mean the following:
"Dear All!
In connection with the liquidation of "Exit, Pursued by a Bear" is, unfortunately, we have to pray for peace on stage. The performance is both very light and sound sensitivity, and we therefore ask that there are people in the pages that do not have anything with the idea to do."
I love it. It makes perfect nonsense.
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