social political theatre: Nocturne

Mona Chirila, my professor of stage directing from Cluj, started a project at the local puppet theatre Puck. It is an adult social-political theatre, with an emphasis on feminism and Balkan women for 2009 performances. Tonight they have a new premiere with a play by Visniec that she directed: "The woman like a battlefield". It might look like a small project but considering the limited representations of conscious political performances in Romania, it can bring only admiration for the simple fact that it exists. I hope that it lives long and that I can be more of an active help for it.

This is their fresh webpage, only in Romanian.

My favs for 2008

I was thinking a lot lately for the highlights of last year, what happened and what changed. A lot of stuff but here are just some personal favorite items:

Favorite movie: Mein liebster Feind - Klaus Kinski by Werner Herzog - even if it was made in 1999, I watched it so many times in 2008 that i've learned most of the lines and had favourite parts for special moments. I anticipate that it will be a well-watched movie this year also.








Favorite performance: The Funeral by Péter Nádas, directed by László Bocsárdi, Comedy Theatre Bucharest, I've already wrote about this show here









Favorite album: Beirut – Gulag Orkestar from 2006 - happy to discover Beirut in 2008, it can change my mood in a second (maybe that's why I've listened it so many times) and then you cannot stop listening to it, you have to go for the whole album on and on.



Favorite art exhibit: Love, Erotica, Passion Exhibition in Prague - erotic themes in 15th to 19th century at the Clam Gallas Pallace in Husova Street. I hope they still have this exhibition. Well organized, wonderful possible explorations. The art pieces were taken from Prague City Archives, National Gallery and the Museum of Decorative Arts in Prague. Amazing expressions of sexuality in so many twisted ways.

Favorite book: Mad Men and Medusas: Reclaiming Hysteria by Juliet Mitchell, from 2001 - this book made my life easier and gave me a lot of exciting ideas for my work and being-in-the-world (not only the academic one)









Favorite live show: CocoRosie at Trafo - a complete show: music, performing, costumes, images, interaction and Sierra and Bianca, I had it in my mind for so long.





Favorite moment of 2008: open rehearsal of Jehanne Complex, the idea that we actually did it, and there were people there to close the performing circle. A great experience all in all, it gave me a great feeling concerning theatre, my projects and what you can do with amazing people that you can meet in so many contexts but never like in a performing situation.

Insecurities Increase

by Antonette*

Insecurities increase,

with daily verbal abuse

and death threats,

All because of the way I dress.

Aging tranny bitch queen,

tattooed masculine lines,

some ‘bull-dyke’ on steroids.

Nice figure,

but face like Freddie Krueger,

the serial killer.

Why can’t people let me be?

Constantly judging

by first appearances.

You can’t judge

by looking at the wrapping.

The woman in me,

dying to be accepted.

The public forces the Queen

to put the dresses away

after a certain age.

The abuse and constant danger,

Forces the she-male

to only come out at night,

if at all.

Imprisoned by letting the forces

of the shallow general public,

To intimidate the feminine side,

so she must fade away

and hide.

The tranny bitch submissive Queen,

Too old to be seen as anything other

than a sexual deviant,

Fallen so far.

Starting over again

at the bottom,

Can’t get much lower

than a tranny working the stroll.

Shit on from all sides,

an abnormality.

Can I keep going,

dressing daily for my femininity?

Old memories,

sadden the heart,

vacant loneliness,

Stress upon stress.

Afraid I might kill

some ignorant young fuck,

For his ill timed,

homophobic foul mouth.

Don’t look 30,

but awesome for 50-something.

Strong masculine lines

and tattoos,

Constantly reinforce

the fitting handle

of,

Miss Understood.

* I found this wonderful poem at the Queer History Project website. You can find the story of the poem and other amazing queer stories there.

Tu Ridi (1998)

Directors: Paolo & Vittorio Taviani

based on two short stories by Pirandello, the challenge of this tough Taviani feature is the construction and how it works for the viewer. I've seen it twice because for the first time it really puzzled me in the sense of "what the fuck was that?!?!" Some people say it was just some Taviani pretentious bullshit, badly picking some shitty stories or oh! it was so poetic, it was such an exquisite image blah blah blah. You can avoid this movie in so many ways because it is so goddamn uncanny. But here is my long-thought-analysis: its difficulty or beauty stays in its technique. What they do here is quite classic: deconstruction in two. The brothers are splitting everything into two, the movie, the stories, the characters, reality, time, location and so on. The splitting goes to the level of a spiraling infinite and can make you dizzy at some point. But it's a fascinating exercise and so damn simple after all. Of course, being used with some narrative styles that follow strict rules and conventions, being realism or hardcore experimental, this uncanny diversion explodes in your face and you don't know what hits you. Highly recommended.

Jeanne is back

Jeanne is in Germany now and she has a blog. Check it out here. I always liked her style of writing and now she is here with some fresh and captivating stuff. I hope she won't get bored too quick...

There is also a post about Jehanne Complex, a post that is full of memories for me. It was really amazing to work on this performance, to construct it step by step, to talk a lot, rehearse and drink coffees together for hours and hours. And I really miss that type of chemistry. The post goes like this:

"Retrospective Thoughts on Jehanne Complex
2 November 2008
The repeated rehearsing of something does not lead to lack of catharsis with each performance. This I learned clearly. The throwing of everything up and down again. Giving. Self-obsession or self–entrenchment again and again. But, it is also investment FOR people, as well as a self-congratulations. (Initial inspiration and motives, in the end, are perhaps not so important.)
First scene: “My name is Jeanne, and I’ve just eaten a hamburger.” Black men’s suit, tie, shoes and skull cap with white button-down shirt. I carry a Burger King meal bag containing a whopper, French fries, a coke and a Heinz ketchup bottle. I walk around the stage, staring at the audience suspiciously, after closing the white curtains making up the stage’s backdrop. Meditative, Middle-Eastern-sounding music comes on and I remove my shoes and meditate. After I can relax and control my breathing, I emerge from my meditation and begin to unpack the meal bag. I spread a lot of ketchup over the whopper, set out the French fries and coke, and begin to eat. I always ate three big bites of the burger (it affected my digestion).
Second scene: Microphone “Close to the town where I was born, there is a tree known as the ladies’ tree. It’s a great beech tree, centuries old. In the shade of its branches, there is a spring. In the month of Mary, children decorate the branches of the ladies’ tree with garlands. They sit beside the spring and eat together. I did that with my friends, but I never saw or heard tell of dwarfs or any other creatures of the devil… God’s voices haunt me. They never do leave me in peace. They are constantly encouragin’ and pushin’ me.” The microphone has ghosts that trick me. I speak into one and the other one produces sound. My voice is manipulated and distorted…a sort of comedy.
Third scene: Shaving The legs, like a girl, then the face, like a boy. Jehanne was sexually ambiguous with no period bleeding and breasts, and a mission from “God”. I contemplatively shave one calf in silence…getting some shaving cream on my chin, I begin to rub it along my jaw. Gospel song of “Run on for a long, long time…” I felt like a hero preparing for battle. Like Jehanne before leading an army. But then, my tormentors arrive…"

Free Vakulovski!

My Friend Sandu Vakulovski got censored in Cluj for a tough criticism on online masturbation of hegemonic masculinity. Read the whole censored chapter, Futu-ţi morţii mă-tii, from his online novel Mănăştur Mon Amour here. (only in Romanian)

just a sample:


E atâta tristeţe în viaţa ta, aşa că o nouă zi nu poate începe altfel decât cu o nouă labă, cu care îţi întăreşti bătăturile şi bubele de pe pula ta robinet de pişat. Laba e un ritual pentru tine, nu e ceea ce pare, când copiii te văd pe stradă cu pantalonii pătaţi şi se cacă pe ei de râs, de râs de tine, că eşti un labagiu incurabil.

Te plimbi cu punga prin oraş şi nu ştii pe unde să-ţi mai verşi tristeţea de clujean futut, nebăgată în seamă de absolut nimeni, poate din când în când de câţiva huligani care râd de tine, doar râd, nici măcar nu te scuipă în gură, eşti atât de mic şi insignifiant, fix ca un căcat de câine de care toată lumea se fereşte, până când gunoierii ies dimineaţa la acţiune, îl strâng cu scârbă şi îl aruncă.

Din când în când mai încerci să socializezi, cu vânzătoarele de la chioşcuri, când îţi iei pufuleţi, dar eşti rapid pus la respect, ţi se trântesc pufuleţii în faţă şi eşti rugat să te cari în pizda mă-tii, căci mai sunt oameni în rând care nu au chef să piardă timpul cu un futut ca tine.

Te întorci acasă şi tristeţea ta metafizică începe să se transforme în furie. Că eşti un neînţeles, nimeni nu te ascultă, nu te vrea, nu te iubeşte. Aşa că mai fuţi. Mai fuţi o labă. Ca să te descarci, ca să te împlineşti. Dar tristeţea şi furia îţi sunt stopate doar parţial, simţi că mai poţi, că ăsta nu e ultimul tău cuvânt, aşa că mai bagi o labă.

Ţi se trezeşte o poftă de informare şi de cultură, aşa că deschizi compu’. Intri pe situri cu fete şi băieţi cu curul gol. Ar merge şi unele şi alţii, dacă te-ar băga în seamă, dar cum nu, chiar nu, chiar deloc, dar absolut deloc, niciodată, nicicum... mai tragi o labă.

Ţi se trezeşte spiritul civic. Intri pe Clujeanul, să te informezi, să vezi cine şi ce a mai zis, ce a comentat altul, cu cine s-a futut cineva, ce evenimente se organizează în următoarea perioadă şi cine cât de la cine a mai furat. Eşti foarte nervos şi furios. Tragi o labă. Cu alta te cruceşti.

Te enervează aştia foarte tare. Citeşti şi mori de nervi. Eşti sigur că tu eşti mai tare, mai cult, mai deştept şi mai frimos ca ăia care scriu, dar... tu n-ai noroc. Pe tine nimeni nu te bagă în seamă, cu tine nu vorbeşte nimeni, pe tine nici mama ta nu te iubeşte. Eşti trist şi neînţeles. Îţi aminteşti că ai învăţat la şcoală că şi Eminescu era trist şi neînţeles. Asta îţi dă speranţe. Te gândeşti că poate şi tu vei fi ca el, măcar după moarte. Şi bagi o labă.

About rape jokes on facebook

I was reading today this article on Une Femme Plus Courageuse's blog and my curiousity made me check my facebook pieces of flair application for rape content. I was using pieces of flair for a while and it had some pretty smart jokes. totally funny. but what about this rape issue that is so big today? it looks like all those chuck norris jokes that were everywhere dissapeared and now there is something funny about rape. where am i standing towards all this? i try to reveal the mechanism of my critique: i often hear that feminists have no sense of humour, they don't get a joke and anyway feminist political corectness is so uncool that you can't even mention something related to it in non-academic circles if you don't want to get a mocking attitude from the joker and an embaressment comment from your good friend host-of-the-party. and why is that? well, first of all jokes are anyway innocent, somehow universal and there can be only good and bad jokes, never offensive ones. the offended is probably a square head that doesn't get it anyway, so don't bother about this type of characters. I have to say that i do not go with this essentialist explination for a number of reasons: rape jokes come with a bigger ironic discourse on protecting patriarchal practices, jokes construct social hierarchies and let's face it, inocent jokes coming from nowhere are not so innocent after all. The ideological game of relating to any form of reality is highly connected to the imaginary present in jokes: the consensus of what is reality is not much of a matter of rational agreement but more of an imaginary affirmation, a form of misrecognition. This type of misrecognition is exemplified by the rape joke: the ideological-distorted reality of the rape is epitomized by the usage of a mysoginistic dominant fiction. and the fictionalized content that makes reality is thrown straight into the popular culture and on facebook. The misrecognition of the rape is ideologically constructed to deny its existance and make it a joke, ie illusory, a made-up story and not a possible bearer of reality. And that's not funny at all.

some random examples of rape-friendly pieces of flair, there are plenty more:

brechtorama introduces terrorchic

one of my friends started a blog. she writes some challenging stuff there and quite often. highly recommanded. with blogs like these i will stop reading the tabloids :) keep up the good work!

a post about readin tabloids and blogs will come soon. i am thinking about it: why am i doing it? what is my little dirty pleasure in spending hours in their fascinating company?