everybody’s a critic.(c) BK
Уже больше года как хотела выложить
То, что оставила фандому Cathy Madden. Фотки все в общем известные (в этой части которые), только обычно не особо известно, что это именно ее.
Ну и отчеты и ревью. Отчет о поездке в НЙ на Deviant я перевела, опуская отрывки не относящиеся к спектаклю и рэнди (если где накосячено, дайте знать)
'A Letter From Ethel Kennedy. Май 2002
DEVIANT, август 2002
Toronto Q&A, март 2003
JT Leroy Reading, Питтсбург, апрель 2003.
DEVIANT, август 2002
On Friday, August 23, Saturday, August 24 and Sunday, August 25, 2002, I was back in New York, to see Randy in his latest play, Deviant. Here are some pictures we took after the performances, as well as my highly-subjective review of the play.
В пятницу 23-го августа, субботу 24-го и воскресенье 25-го я снова была в Нью-Йорке, чтобы увидеть Рэнди в его последнем спектакле, Deviant. Здесь некотороые фотографии, которые мы сделали после спектаклей, а также мое очень субъективное ревью.
This is a picture of Randy and me outside the theater Sunday afternoon. Maybe the reason he's always so nice to me is that I make him feel tall.: )
Это фото Рэнди и меня у театра в воскресенье днем. Возможно, причина по которой он всегда так мил со мной, что рядом со мной он чувствует себя высоким : )
This is a picture of my daughter, Desiree, and Randy, taken outside the theater on Friday night. She's about 5'7" and they're practically the same height.
Это фото моей дочери Desiree и Рэнди, сделано у театра в пятницу вечером. Она около 5'7 дюймов и они практически одного роста.
Смотреть и читать дальшеThese next 4 pictures were taken during the curtain call on Sunday. My daughter turned the flash off on her camera and we got lucky.
Следующие 4 фото сделаны во время выхода актеров на поклон в воскресенье. Моя дочь выключила вспышку и нам повезло.
The cast acknowledges the audience and the playwright. Randy is looking after the guinea pig.: )
Актеры приветствуют аудиторию и драматурга. Рэнди присматривает за морской свинкой. : )
The cast is all smiles as they bask in the glow of a very appreciative audience.
Актеры улыбаются, наслаждаясь своим успехом.
A little bit closer shot of Randy, looking adorable.
Чуть более крупный снимок Рэнди, выглядящего очаровательно.
This picture always makes me laugh because it looks like Randy is ogling the girl on the platform.: ) In reality, he's turning to leave the stage and she just happens to be standing there.
Эта фотография всегда вызывает у меня смех, потому что на ней кажется, что Рэнди кокетничает с девушкой на платформе. : ) На самом деле он поворачивается, чтобы покинуть сцену, а она просто стоит там.
These next 3 pictures were taken during a photo session, which took place after the Sunday afternoon performance. They are supposed to be re-enacting scenes from the play.
Три следующих фото сделаны во время фотосессии, которая состоялась после дневного воскресного спектакля. Там должны были быть повторены сцены из спектакля.
This is a re-enactment of the scene where Marshall (Randy) sees the Carrotfucker for the first time.
Это воссоздание сцены в которой Marshall (Рэнди) в первый раз видит Carrotfucker.
Another picture of Randy with the inhabitants of the fetish club.
Еще одно фото Рэнди с обитателями фетиш-клуба.
I'm not sure what Randy is looking at, but he doesn't look happy. Maybe this was when the guinea pig bit him.: )
Не уверена на что смотрит Рэнди, но он не выглядит счастливым. Может это тогда, когда морская свинка укусила его.: )
These last 4 pictures were taken outside the theater after the Sunday performance. It's a small street but I think you can get an idea of what Randy has to deal with when he's surrounded by fans.
Эти последние 4 фотографии сделаны у театра после воскресного спектакля. Это маленькая улица (маленький театр), но, думаю, вы получите представление с чем Рэнди приходится иметь дело, когда он окружен фанатами.
Posing for pictures...
Позируя для фото...
Trying to concentrate when several people are calling your name at once...
Пытаясь сосредоточиться, когда несколько человек одновременно окликают тебя по имени...
The utmost patience and grace under adverse conditions...
Предельное спокойствие и вежливость в неблагоприятных условиях...
Just one more autograph...
Еще один автограф
My review of 'Deviant' (без перевода)
читать дальшеDeviant
a highly subjective review
Before I share my thoughts about ‘Deviant’, I have a confession to make: I had some serious second (and third and fourth and fifth) thoughts about this play. Even after I’d bought my tickets and made the plane and hotel reservations, I was wondering how I would react to it. I’m not in my twenties any more - hell, I’m not even in my thirties. While I consider myself the most liberal and open-minded forty-something woman I know, a play about bizarre sexual fetishes didn’t exactly seem like an evening of light entertainment. It sounded shocking, and I hope I’ve retained the ability to be shocked. Certainly, not as easily as I could have been shocked twenty-five years ago but, if a person loses his or her capacity to be shocked, they risk becoming so jaded that nothing excites them any more. I still enjoy being excited.
In the end, the determining factor was Randy Harrison. I’ve often said I’d pay to see him stand on a bare stage and read the telephone book. Granted, ‘Deviant’ was a far cry from the Yellow Pages. By the time I strolled into the Kraine Theater on Friday night, August 23rd, I’d read several reviews and gotten emails from a couple of friends who’d seen it. I was calm. I was collected. I was ready for anything they threw at me.
Or so I thought.
Yes, ‘Deviant’ disturbed me, but not in totally bad way.
I can almost see your questioning looks. How, you ask, can a disturbance be anything but a negative experience?
According to dictionary.com, to disturb is to ‘move deeply’. The connotation is neither positive nor negative. Another definition of disturb is ‘to break up or destroy the tranquillity or settled state of’. What is more settled in most of us than our sexual identity? The way we perceive ourselves and our partners affects how we deal with everyone else. While we may discover new things that turn us on and, at the same time, we realise that some of the old tried-and-true things don’t do it for us any more, our basic perception of what is and isn’t sexy changes little.
‘Deviant’ challenged many of the things I’d thought were un-challenge-able: what is (and isn’t) sexy and why something turns one person on and another person off.
As we enter the theater, most of the cast is already onstage. Everyone, with the exception of one female, is paired up, participating in various manifestations of bdsm behaviour. It’s all pretty vanilla, as sexual perversion goes. A young man enters and everyone immediately recognises him as a ‘real’ perv. Which he is. Is it paranoia when everyone really *is* looking at you? Ariel Brooke does a good job as the de facto narrator, relating the ground rules to Marshall (Randy Harrison).
Marshall has little time for conversation. He’s here to find a partner, but not just anyone. He’s looking for a woman with a ‘dead-eye look’. Someone who is ‘almost gone’. He approaches a girl who’s enjoying a special moment with a carrot; we only ever know her as ‘Carrotfucker’. Marshall sees, in her, the qualities he needs and offers her money to come home with him. She won’t have to fuck him, he assures her. He’s never fucked a human, he later tells her. She agrees and they leave together.
For those of you who have only ever seen Randy as Justin Taylor on Queer as Folk, this was a departure for him. There was no Justin in Marshall, not even a little bit. Marshall was judgmental, while eschewing the right of others to judge him. His statement to Carrotfucker: ‘Don’t look at me like *I’m* the strange one,’ is Marshall in nutshell. He was controlling and overbearing and, at the same time, pathetic and very sad. He’d suicide-proofed his apartment, getting rid of Drano, extension cords, long tube socks and he retained bars on his windows, despite living on the second floor. Even though it was never said, I got the idea that he was a solitary soul; his most loyal companion was the ‘Fucking Guilt’ that he carried with him at all times. He was driven, by his obsession, to participate in an activity that he knew to be wrong, but was unable to stop himself from doing.
The main complaint I have about ‘Deviant’ is that we never got to truly understand where Marshall’s fascination with crushing came from. He recreated an idyllic scene, supposedly from his childhood, in which he watched his parents having sex on a carpet of bugs, and then he said it never happened. We were treated to the complete backstory of how the Carrotfucker came to be capable of copulating only with carrots. Not dildos or cucumbers - just carrots. It was a sad story of trying to de-flower herself so she could have sex with the most popular boy in school, Steve Patrey, played cockily by Jason Lopez. Marshall’s formative years are never dealt with and I think the story suffers because of it.
Another interesting thing I noticed was in the ‘wrestling match’ between Fucking Guilt and Lust. It occurs in the context of Marshall’s fantasy life. When he masturbates, Marshall confesses that he pictures his head on the body of a bug. He looks up to see a large high heel shoe descending toward him, intent to quashing him like a… well, like the bug that he imagines himself to be. He doesn’t know the identity of the woman attached to the shoe and he doesn’t care. All he cares about is that the shoe presses down on him, pushing his intestines up and out his throat and down and out his ass. He is a second away from orgasm when he’s overcome by…
Fucking Guilt.
In the midst of this serious scene about how it feels to be trampled, the match between Fucking Guilt and Lust is a silly and much-needed comedic change-of-pace. As I watched this scene, I wondered if it was a coincidence that Fucking Guilt was played by a female and Lust was played by a male. I might call it misogynistic if the playwright was a man, but it was written by a woman. Still, it was curious.
By the way, the wrestling match was a draw. It was very well choreographed by Jim Cairl, who played several parts, including Louie the Loser, Marshall’s dad and the guy who called the phone sex line and wanted to talk about cars.
Marshall listens, politely, as the Carrotfucker relates her life’s story but we get the idea that he only pretends to be interested. She’s there to do what he’s already paid her to do. He starts off slowly, with a worm. Unless, he says, she has a special place in her heart for worms. If so, they can start with something else. Despite being disgusted, she agrees to trample the worm. Marshall hands her a pair of red high heel shoes. Her observation that the heels are covered by guts and blood isn’t even acknowledged as Marshall gets everything ready. He loving touches the shoes, then her feet, before helping her put them on.
He doesn’t want her to kill the worm immediately. He gets excited as he watches her playing with it with the heel of her shoe. At his command, she stomps the worm repeatedly, while he watches, enthralled. She’s camping it up, showing him some skin as she performs her task. He looks at her in disgust. ‘I’m not interested in your face,’ he tells her. She says she’s just trying to make it good for herself. At the mention that she’s having fun, Marshall is emboldened. He pulls more money out of his pocket and drops it on the floor. He then reaches into a cage and pulls out a guinea pig.
I think this is the minute that the tone of the play changes from kinky to dangerous. The girl is obviously disgusted by what Marshall wants her to do. She tries to tell him, but he’s not listening. He’s given her more money and he honestly doesn’t think there’s any difference between trampling a worm or a guinea pig. She tries to leave, but he stops her. Realising the change in his demeanour, she agrees. He turns away to get things ready and she makes a break for the door. This has obviously happened to him before, and he’s ready for it. He grabs her. She struggles. He slaps her, hard, knocking her to the floor, unconscious.
Marshall wants - needs - someone to help him complete what he’s started. If he can’t get the girl to co-operate, he’ll call someone who will, for $2.99 a minute. He tells the phone sex operator that the girl won’t fulfill her end of the bargain. She wants to talk to the girl but she’s unconscious. It’s obvious that, because Marshall can’t get her to talk on the phone, the operator doesn’t believe there *is* a girl there. Maybe she thinks Marshall has one of those blow-up dolls. She tells Marshall to show his ‘girl’ how it feels to be trampled, and he does. In the very brief final scene between Marshall and the Carrotfucker, he seems to have lost the last vestige of humanity that he’s been clinging to.
That scene was very difficult to watch, even after I’d seen it once or twice. I won’t describe, in great detail, how Marshall kills the girl, but that’s what happens. If you want the whole scene described, email me and I’ll tell you. There are two more phone sex monologues after that scene, in which Marshall sits quietly by the body of the Carrotfucker, trying to deal with what he’d just done.
Everyone in the cast is wonderful and it’s obvious that they’re having a great time. Before Friday night’s performance, I met the mother of one of the cast members. Barbara’s daughter, Emily Parker, played Fucking Guilt, Marshall’s mom, Kelly Stirrup and the phone sex operator who talked about cars, and she was very good. Sara Trachtenberg (who played Stephanie Prushinski and the phone sex girl who talked about the puppy), Melanie Warner (who played the phone sex operator whose foot had been cut off) and Fred Urfer (who played Lust and the phone sex guys who talked about wounds and the puppy) were all marvelous. They played several roles, sometimes changing from one character to another on the stage. Another favourite of mine was Rob DeRosa, who played the Satanfucker. That character was crazy and funny and totally off-the-wall, certainly one of the comedic highlights of the play.
The anonymous female lead, known only to us as the Carrotfucker was played, amazingly, by Marci Adilman. Her portrayal of a woman who had taken a long and unhappy road to where she was in life was, at the same time, fascinating and sad. If she hated humans, as she said, why was she in a fetish club, surrounded by lots of sweating humans? She also said she hated herself, and that she was afraid she’d accidentally kill herself and everyone would think she did it on purpose. She certainly didn’t seem to care that she was engaging in very risky behaviour - leaving a sex club with a man you don’t know, but who paid you $200 to go home with him isn’t rational behaviour. Still, Randy and Marci worked very well together. They went to high school together in Atlanta and they acted together before he went to CCM and she went to NYU. I’d love to see them together again on stage.
But the #1 attraction of the play, for me, was the reason I traveled 1400 miles to search for a tiny theater in the East Village of NYC on a hot August weekend: Randy Harrison. This is the second play I’ve seen him in and he just keeps getting better and better. I’ve heard a few criticisms of the play, and his portrayal of Marshall. First of all, I couldn’t disagree more that he did little beyond reciting his lines. His performance was understated and touching and heartbreaking. He played a man who was a prisoner of his sexual obsession; for him, there was no way out of his self-imposed prison. The fanfic writer in me wants to know what happens to Marshall next - will he be arrested for murder? Will he be judged insane? Will he spend the rest of his life in an asylum? The fact that I even care what happens to Marshall is due to the amazing job Randy did of bringing the character to life.
The one-act play is very short - only about an hour long - but there’s a great deal to keep your eyes glued to the stage. There’s also a great deal to make you think about long after the play is over. I’m sure different people got different things out of it. There were those who were simply disgusted by Randy’s character and what he did. Then there were others, like me, who saw a deeper meaning. As a matter of fact, I’m still trying to understand what *I* took away from it. Maybe the most important thing I got was the folly of judging people. We have no idea what someone has endured during his or her lifetime and it’s not fair to expect them to conform to our idea of what’s right and what’s wrong. It ‘disturbed’ my rather complacent view of what’s acceptable sexual behaviour, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Everyone needs to be shaken up a little every once in a while.
What I Did on my Summer Vacation - our trip to NY to see Randy Harrison in ‘Deviant’ in August 2002 (на английском)
читать дальшеWhen we left NY in May 2002, after having spent 3 wonderful days being tourists and seeing Randy’s NY stage debut in ‘A Letter from Ethel Kennedy’, I was already looking forward to going back in 2003 to see him again. Little did I know that his next stage appearance would be a mere three and a half months later, in August.
The name of the play he was in was called ‘Deviant’ and it was part of the NYC Fringe Festival, a seventeen-day extravaganza of plays, one-person shows and other avante garde theater held in the East Village every August. ‘Deviant’ was billed as a look into the weird world of sexual fetishes and phone sex. It sounded risky. Okay, it sounded downright scary, but it was Randy, after all.
I tried to make arrangements to go on the first weekend that the play was on but it didn’t work out. I had to settle for the final two performances: August 23rd and 25th. My daughter was working and couldn’t take more than two days off this time around. We didn’t have time to drive, like we had last time, so we flew.
So, we headed north very early on Friday morning. When we arrived at LaGuardia, we went out to find a taxi to the city. Just outside, a young, cute guy approached us and asked if we needed a cab. We said yes. He asked where we were going and we told him. He said he had a car and would take us, if we didn’t mind sharing with someone else. His ‘car’ was a limousine. We looked at each other and agreed. As we sat in the car and waited for the other passengers, I had this flash of us being strangled and thrown into the East River, but he seemed okay.
It was a neat trip into the city. The other passengers were from Kentucky and they were staying in Times Square. We went to their hotel first and then to ours. I’d found this cute little gay bed and breakfast on West 14th Street, in Greenwich Village. It turned out to be an ideal location for us, close to everything we wanted to see.
After checking in and dragging our suitcases up 3 flights of very steep stairs, it was time to go out. My daughter is a huge hockey fan and she’d heard that there’s a tour of Madison Square Garden. We started out walking from 14th Street to 35th Street, and made it in about half an hour. It was a neat tour, lasting about an hour. Afterwards, we had lunch in the restaurant for season ticket holders, called Play By Play.
From Madison Square Garden, we walked up to 40th Street and 8th Avenue, across the street from the Port Authority Bus Terminal. Desiree had gotten a tattoo when we were in NY last May and she was ready to get another one. She chose another Egyptian symbol - I can’t remember what it’s called - for her left ankle. I’d had this weird idea about getting a tattoo as well, but I wasn’t totally sure. While Desi was in the other room, I looked at all the art on the walls. When she got finished, I still hadn’t made up my mind. She told me not to get anything unless I was sure, which I wasn’t. We told the guys that we were going down to the ATM at the store next door and that we had to talk about what I wanted.
We did go down and get some money out of the ATM, but we didn’t go back upstairs to the tattoo parlor. I was still waffling about what I wanted and where I wanted it, so we bought a couple of six-packs of sodas and took a cab back to the hotel.
We chilled out for a couple of hours before I couldn’t take it any more and we left for the theater. It would have been a long walk, so we took a cab. The Kraine Theater is very small, without any kind of sign to identify itself. The door was open and there were several people sitting on the steps, so we figured that was where we were headed. It was too early to go over there so we stopped at a bar across the street, called East Fourth Street Bar. We sat outside and had a drink and an order of mozzarella sticks and watched the people across the street.
It was a little after 8 when we paid the bill and walked across the street. There were 2 long lines meandering down the front stairs of the building. One was to pick up tickets from will call and the other was to get in the theater once you had your tickets. We got in line in front of a middle-aged lady who told us that her sister was in the other line, so they could get better seats. Desi went over and got in line behind the sister. The lady turned out to be the mother of one of the cast members. Her daughter, Emily Parker, was one of the best actors in the play, IMO. I told her that we’d come from SC and she said, ‘I bet I know who *you* came to see!’ She told me that Randy was a sweet person and the cast loved working with him. She also told me that Randy was concerned about stalkers, and she *did* use the word ‘stalker’. She said he couldn’t understand it; all he wanted to do was work on the play. It was obvious that Barbara, as the mother of a young stage actor, was upset by what she was telling me.
I asked Barbara why Randy had gotten the part in this play. She said he went to high school with one of the girls in the company, but she couldn’t remember which one. I found out later that Randy’s former classmate was Marci Adilman, the female lead. Sometime during that time, while we were waiting to pick up our tickets, another lady walked up and started talking to Barbara. Barbara told her that I had come from SC to see the play and she was delighted. I told her that ‘Deviant’ had been a very hot topic on several of the mailing lists I’m on and she almost couldn’t believe it. Desi told me, later on, that she was the author of the play, Sophie Rand.
It was about this time when I found out that, because ‘Deviant’ had sold out its entire run, they had added an additional performance on Saturday night at 11pm. Of course, I was going to be there, if I could get a ticket. I had my first viewing of the play to get through before I had to worry about Saturday night. I have to confess that I had butterflies in my stomach as we made our way up the stairs and into the theater.
My review of ‘Deviant’ is posted elsewhere on this site, so I won’t go into many details about the play. Suffice to say that I thought Randy was phenomenal. He just keeps getting better every time I see him. I have no idea what attracts him to characters that seem to be nothing like Justin Taylor - maybe that’s their main attraction. I don’t know. All I know is that I was mesmerised by Marshall and his plight.
Of course, the play didn’t last nearly long enough - only about an hour. We made our way out of the tiny theater and back out to the street, to wait for Randy’s appearance. I should mention watching him enter the theater before the play. Apparently, there’s only one way into the theater and that’s through the front door. We were standing on the stairs, waiting for the box office to open, when the cast filed in right beside us. Randy is dressed in his everyday clothes with a cap on his head and shoved way down over his eyes. If he thought he was fooling anyone, he was wrong. Each time he entered the theater, someone around me would say to his or her companion, ‘That was Randy Harrison. Did you see him?’ It was almost like a pact was formed between Randy and his fans: we would pretend we didn’t recognise him and he wouldn’t question it. I was in a position to speak to him every time, but I didn’t. He was on the way to work and it would have been unforgivable to disturb him.
So, we’re standing outside the theater. It’s hard to tell how many people are there to see Randy and how many are there visiting with other members of the cast. Desi had informed me that she wanted a picture with Randy, if we could get it. When he came down the steps, there were several people speaking to him at once. I’m sure people were asking him for autographs but I didn’t. I stepped up and told him that we had come from SC to see him back in May, and now we were back. He looked at me very briefly and smiled one of those million-watt smiles. ‘I remember,’ he said, and I believed him. I asked if we could have a picture and he said, ‘sure’. Desi was a little bit hesitant and I couldn’t back up very far because of the crowd but we got the picture. We both told him how great he was. Again, he smilingly acknowledged us and we backed away, allowing someone else to have their moment with him. When he walked away, a few minutes later, he was followed down the street by a couple of guys. I found out, later, that they were security people hired by the production company to look after him.
After our moment with Randy, I ran into a friend of mine from one of the Yahoo groups. I’d looked for Polina before the play but couldn’t find her. We walked up to the next street corner and talked for a while and then we started walking home. Despite sore feet and blisters, we managed to walk all the way back to 14th Street, to our hotel. It took us over an hour to make the journey and we talked about all kinds of QAF stuff, as well as other stuff. I had an extra ticket to the Sunday afternoon show and I invited her to come, but she already had plans. It was almost midnight when we bid good night to our friend at the front door of the hotel.
Saturday dawned gray and wet. The forecast was for rain all day, but we didn’t care. A little bit of rain wasn’t going to deter us from our touristic duties. We took a cab to Rockefeller Center, where we took pictures of the NBC studios. One of those double-decker tour buses stopped on a street corner and we were asked if we’d like to buy a tour that went all over the southern part of the island. We couldn’t think of a good reason not to, so we paid the man and climbed on.
Times Square is a crazy place from any angle. From the top of a tour bus, we could see everything. It was raining lightly but not enough to make us want to go downstairs. We traveled from Times Square to Greenwich Village, Soho, Chinatown, Little Italy and by Ground Zero to Battery Park, where we got off. We stopped to look at The Sphere, from the site of the World Trade Center, and we walked over and took pictures of the ferries. Desi bought a pair of ‘Oakley’ sunglasses from a guy in the park and we each bought a hat to keep the rain off our faces. We spent a few minutes there and caught the bus back up to Central Park.
We got off the bus again at the Plaza Hotel. On our last trip, I’d tried to talk Desi into going into the Plaza, but she wouldn’t go. This time, we had to go to the bathroom, and I convinced her that we’d find one in the hotel. I wanted us to eat lunch at The Palm Court restaurant, but they had a dress code and we had on jeans. Maybe next time… We walked out of the Plaza and sat down on a bench at the south end of Central Park. I told Desi that I’d made up my mind about the tattoo; I asked if she’d go back to the tattoo parlor with me. She said yes and we caught a cab back to the Port Authority Bus Terminal.
I chose a very small tattoo, a spider web, which I wanted on the top of my right foot. There was supposed to be some pale blue shading, but I didn’t want it. It’s basically only the outline of the spider web. I realise it’s somewhat silly for a woman in her late forties to get a tattoo, but I don’t care. I’ve wanted one for years and watching my daughter getting her two made me realise how much I really wanted one. The tattoo was the object of much discussion amongst some of my co-workers when I returned home.
Our next order of business was a tour of Ground Zero. We’d signed up for the same tour in May but, due to inclement weather, we had to take a driving tour rather than a walking tour. We arrived at the southeast corner of Broadway and Chambers Street at about 4:30, half an hour early. We met up with our old friend, Gary. He told us that a film crew from Holland would be following us and asked if we minded. We told him no. He had to go and to a short interview with them and we found a drugstore so we could buy Desi a poncho because the rain was getting harder.
When we got back across the street to where Gary was, the Dutch news guy asked if we’d mind answering a few questions. I assured him that we weren’t ‘typical New Yorkers’ and he said that was okay. They wanted to talk to ‘ordinary Americans’ about 9/11. He asked us several questions about why we were there, why we felt the need to visit Ground Zero, did we think it was morbid to visit the site and what we thought we would get out of the experience. We answered all the questions as best we could and I hope we didn’t sound like idiots. I tried to portray the feeling that all of us are Americans and we feel as much a part of what happened as the people who lived in the shadow of the WTC. Desi related the stories of friends of hers who were supposed to be in the towers on the morning of the attack, and whom they couldn’t locate until the next day. I asked the reporter if the people in Europe thought it was morbid to visit the site and he said no. He said we made some good points and he thanked us for our candor. During the tour, the camera focused on Desi’s face a number of times; she has a very mobile face and her reactions to what she was seeing was worth a thousand words of commentary.
We were in a somber mood as we walked around what used to be the World Trade Center that rainy Saturday afternoon. I kept thinking of the Stevie Ray Vaughn song, ‘The Sky is Crying’. There’s really nothing left to see there - just some cranes and other construction equipment in a big hole in the ground. Despite the fact that there was a mob of people around, the silence was stifling. I don’t know what the other people were thinking and feeling, but I silenced by the weight of the emotions that are focused on that location. I’m glad I got to walk down there and pay my respects, but I don’t think I want to do it again.
We exited the tour a little early because of the rain. We caught a cab back to our hotel. We hadn’t eaten anything all day except for a pretzel and a small bag of goldfish. We found a lovely little family restaurant down the street from the hotel and we had a great dinner, complete with chocolate ice cream for dessert. We walked back to the hotel and crashed for about an hour, until it was time to start out for the theater again.
It was a little before 10 when I put my shoes back on and prepared to leave. Desi had a really bad headache and didn’t want to go. I made sure she didn’t mind staying by herself and I made my decision to go alone. I wasn’t totally comfortable with walking around in the Village at 10pm on a Saturday night, but I was going to see Randy, no matter what. I have no idea what possessed me to walk, rather than taking a cab, but I decided to walk as far as I could; if I got tired or felt unsafe, I’d take a cab the rest of the way.
Far from feeling unsafe, I was fascinated by the Village after dark. The walk consisted of 15 blocks east, from 8th Avenue to 3rd Avenue (1 avenue block is equivalent to 3 street blocks) and then 10 blocks south, from 14th Street to 4th Street. I passed by some characters, including a young man peeing on the street - he was mortified when he turned around and saw me.
It only took me about half an hour to get to the theater. I found my friend, Barbara, standing in line inside the theater. We’d gotten online Saturday morning and tried to buy tickets to the Saturday night performance but, according to the Ticketweb site, there were no tickets. So, I’d walked 25 blocks to the theater, without a ticket to the play. I asked Barbara if she had an extra ticket but she didn’t even have a ticket for herself. We were delighted to learn, when the box office opened, that there were some tickets available.
The Saturday night performance wasn’t sold out but there were only about 10 vacant seats, this in a theater that had a capacity of less than 100 seats. Desi and I sat in the same place both times we were there, second row on the far left-hand side. On Saturday night, I sat in the third row toward the right-hand side. All of the action that’s set in Marshall’s apartment takes place on the right-hand side of the stage as you’re looking at it. I’d watched the show Friday for plot; the Saturday and Sunday viewings consisted totally of watching Randy. What a treat to be able to follow his every move and expression.
I thought the Saturday night crowd was more animated than the Friday night crowd. I found out, later, that the cast thought we were all asleep on Saturday night.
As much as I enjoyed the performance, the best moment of the night happened afterwards. For some reason, there was no one waiting on Randy after the show, except me. I was standing on the street at the bottom of the stairs when he came out. He was walking with Marci, his friend from high school and the girl his character kills during the play. I had my camera ready but I didn’t look in the viewfinder; instead, I watched him walk down the stairs. There were 2 guys standing near me; he walked over and shook hands with one of them, thanking him for coming. After a very brief conversation, he started walking down the street. He had on a gray t-shirt and jeans, I think. He had on the ever-present cap and the backpack on his back. Because it had been raining all day, he had a large, red umbrella. He didn’t carry it, though; it was slung on his back, leaving both his hands free. I stood there, next to a parking meter, and watched him walk slowly down the street. He looked around once or twice and he seemed to be in no hurry whatever. There were no fans yelling his name, no camera flashes in his face as he strolled down the street. I watched him until he turned the corner and then I went to the other corner and caught a cab to the hotel.
I’ve wondered, from time to time, why I let Randy walk away from me, rather than running after him and speaking to him. It would have been just the two of us and I would have had the opportunity to have a one-on-one conversation with him. Yes, I sometimes regret not speaking to him, but I think that what I saw was more amazing than if I had. I got to see Randy being himself and enjoying a moment of solitude in a city that he really loves. IMO, that was pretty special.
Sunday morning was bright and sunny and warm, the opposite of what Saturday was. The play didn’t start until 1:45, but we left the hotel a little after 12. We walked down the street, enjoying the view of lots of firemen at the scene of a fire down the street. We found a Baskins Robbins and had ice cream, before resuming our walk. We arrived at the theater early and went over to ‘our place’ - the East Fourth Street Bar, to have another drink.
At about 1:30, we walked over to the theater and picked up our tickets. The walk up the stairs had become a familiar one, but I still had butterflies when I heard the music and saw the inhabitants of the ‘Beat My Guest’ fetish club, who were already on stage. On third viewing, the play was no less devastating to me, maybe because I knew it was the last time I’d see it.
Desi had an idea to turn off the flash in her camera and take photos of the curtain call. She could have taken pictures during the play itself and no one would have known, but she didn’t do that. It wouldn’t have been right and it never occurred to either of us to try. After the curtain call, a short, blond lady walked to the stage and asked everyone to stick around for a minute because they wanted some shots. I assume they were for a scrapbook, but I’m not sure. Several people remained in the audience, at least 10 or 12 people, and most of them had cameras. I walked over to the center of the audience and started snapping pictures and several of them came out pretty good.
We were finally told that we had to go outside, where there was a larger crowd milling around. Once again, it was impossible to tell who was waiting for Randy. When he came out, accompanied by Marci again, he looked a little jittery. I’m sure he was tired after the late show Saturday night. I guess we should have left him alone but we didn’t. Yes, there were some ‘fans’ there that I wanted to slap, but I hope the positive experiences he gets from the majority of his fans makes a more lasting impression on him than the stupid, crazy and dangerous ones do. I stepped up and asked for an autograph and he said, ‘hello again,’ to me. I asked if I could have a picture - I always ask, I don’t assume - and he said yes. Desi got a quick picture of us and we both paused long enough to thank him and tell him how great we thought he was. We got one last, beautiful smile before we walked away. In the midst of all the craziness, he’s still a sweet and polite young man.
As we walked across the street, a man stopped us and asked us what was going on over there. I said it was just a play. I know better than to talk about Randy to someone who doesn’t know who he is.
We had plans to meet a friend of Desi’s at a restaurant on McDougal Street, near Bleecker Street, at 4:30. It was only about 3, so we decided to walk. My map reading still isn’t what it should be and we walked 2 blocks before I realised we were going the wrong way. We reversed our course, walking past the theater once more. Randy was gone, so it didn’t seem like the same place it had been 10 minutes earlier.
We walked west on 4th Street, stopping in Washington Square Park long enough to take some pictures and watch an impromptu ‘show’. The rest of the trip, south on McDougal, was uneventful. We were about half an hour early and we found a place to sit, on the street and watch the people walk by. I’ve said before that the Village is my favourite place in NYC to spend time in. There seems to be more of a community there and something is always going on.
Desi’s friend, Caroline, arrived at about 4:30 and we went inside the restaurant, Monte’s. It was one of those little Italian restaurants like you see on tv, with the white tablecloths and the waiters all dressed up, with wonderful Italian accents. The food was incredible and we had a lovely time. Afterwards, we walked around and looked in the shops for an hour or so. It was about 8 when Caroline had to go home and we caught a cab back to our hotel.
Sunday night was spent in packing and getting ready to leave very early Monday morning. We called the same car service that had brought us in on Friday and he was there to pick us up at 7. As we looked out the windows of the car, looking at the buildings and reading the street signs, we didn’t want to leave. Desi never wants to leave NY and I’m finding it increasingly hard not to be incredibly sad when it’s time to go back to SC. Desi has always wanted to live there and, who knows? Maybe we’ll end up there one of these days.
As for this particular vacation, it was over too soon. We got one last look at the island of Manhattan as our airplane climbed over the city on Monday morning. We both knew we’d be back.
Что я делала на летних каникулах - наше путешествие в НЙ, чтобы увидеть Рэнди Харрисона в Deviant, август 2002. (перевод отчета, за исключением отрывков не касающихся спектакля и рэнди)
читать дальшеКогда мы покинули НЙ в мае 2002, проведя три чудесных дня туристами и посмотрев Рэнди в его дебюте на нью-йоркской сцене в A Letter from Ethel Kennedy, я уже предвкушала, как вернусь туда в 2003-ем, чтобы увидеть его снова. Я не знала, что его следующее появление на сцене состоится всего лишь три с половиной месяца спустя, в августе
............
(пятница)
Мы порасслаблялись (в отеле) пару часов, прежде чем я не выдержала, и мы отправились в театр. Идти бы пришлось долго, и мы взяли такси. Kraine Theater очень маленький и на нем даже нет вывесок. Дверь была открыта и несколько человек сидели на ступенях, ак что мы сообразили, что это то место, куда нам надо. Было еще слишком рано и мы пошли в бар через дорогу. Сели снаружи, взяли напитки и палочки из моцареллы и смотрели на людей на противоположной стороне улицы.
Было начало девятого, когда мы расплатились и пошли обратно к театру. Перед зданием было две длинные очереди. Одна чтобы забрать забронированные билеты, вторая – чтобы после этого войти в театр. Мы оказались в очереди перед женщиной, которая сказала нам, что ее сестра стоит во второй очереди, так что они смогут сесть на места получше. Дези пошла и встала за сестрой этой женщины. Женщина оказалась матерью одной из актрис спектакля. (Ее дочь, Эмили Паркер, была одной из лучших исполнительниц спектакля, имхо.) Я рассказала ей что мы приехали из Южной Каролины и она ответила: « Могу поспорить, что знаю, на кого вы приехали посмотреть!» Она сказала мне, что Рэнди очень приятный человек и всем актерам нравится работать с ним. Еще она сказала, что Рэнди озабочен насчет преследователей, и она действительно употребила слово преследователи. Она сказала, что он не может этого понять; все, чего он хочет – это работать над спектаклем. Было очевидно, что Барбара, как мать молодой актрисы, была огорчена тем, о чем рассказывала мне.
Я спросила Барбару почему Рэнди получил роль в этом спектакле. Она сказала, что он учился в школе вместе с одной из участниц, но не могла вспомнить с какой именно. Позднее я выяснила, что бывшая одноклассница Рэнди – это Марси Адилман, исполняющая главную роль. В какой-то момент, пока мы там стояли, подошла еще одна женщина и заговорила с Барбарой. Барбара сказала ей, что я приехала из Южной Каролины, чтобы посмотреть пьесу, и она обрадовалась. Я сказала ей, что Deviant очень активно обсуждается в некоторых интернет-группах, которые я посещаю, и она едва могла поверить в это. Позже Дези сказала мне, что это была автор пьесы Софи Рэнд.
Примерно в это же время я обнаружила, что поскольку все билеты на Deviant распроданы, был добавлен дополнительный спектакль в субботу в 11 вечера. Конечно я собиралась попасть на него, если смогу взять билет. Но мне еще предстояло впервые увидеть спектакль, прежде чем я должна буду беспокоиться о субботнем вечере. Должна признаться, что у меня в животе порхали бабочки, когда мы поднимались по лестнице к двери театра.
Я выложила свое ревью спектакля, поэтому не буду сильно вдаваться в подробности пьесы. Достаточно сказать, я думаю, что Рэнди был феноменален. Он становится лучше с каждым разом, что я вижу его. Я понятия не имею, что привлекло его в персонаже, но он кажется не имеет ничего общего с Джастином Тейлором – возможно, главным образом это и привлекло. Не знаю. Все, что я знаю, что была заворожена Маршаллом.
Конечно, пьеса не слишком длинная – она шла всего около часа. Мы вышли из крошечного театра на улицу и стали ждать появления Рэнди. Надо упомянуть, что я видела, как он входил в театр перед спектаклем. Определенно, в театре только один вход, через парадную дверь. Мы стояли на лестнице, ожидая открытия билетной кассы, когда актеры появились прямо позади нас. Рэнди был одет в его обычную одежду с кепкой надвинутой на глаза. Если он думал, что ему удастся одурачить кого-нибудь и остаться незамеченным, он ошибался. Каждый раз (все дни), когда он входил в театр кто-нибудь рядом со мной сообщал своему спутнику или спутнице: «Это был Рэнди Харрисон. Вы видели его?». Это было почти как заключенный пакт между Рэнди и его фанатами: мы притворяемся, что не узнали его, а он не сомневается в этом. Каждый раз у меня была возможность заговорить с ним, но я этого не сделала. Он шел работать, и было бы непростительно беспокоить его.
Итак, мы стояли у театра. Трудно сказать, сколько человек пришло, чтобы увидеть Рэнди, а сколько были ради других участников спектакля. Дези сказала мне, что хочет сфотографироваться вместе с Рэнди, если получится. Когда он вышел на лестницу, несколько человек заговорили с ним разом. Люди просили его дать автографы, но я не стала делать этого. Я поднялась и сказала ему, что мы приезжали из Южной Каролины в мае, чтобы увидеть его, и вот теперь вернулись. Он взглянул на меня и улыбнулся своей миллион-ваттной улыбкой, и сказал «Я помню», и я ему поверила. Я спросила, можем ли мы сфотографироваться, и он ответил «конечно». Дэйзи немного застеснялась, а я не могла из-за толпы отойти на нужное расстояние, но мы все же сделали фото. Мы обе сказали Рэнди, что он был великолепен. Он признательно улыбнулся, и мы отошли, позволяя другим пообщаться с ним. Когда он уходил несколькими минутами позже, за ним последовали двое молодых людей. Потом я узнала, что это были охранники, нанятые компанией для него.
…………….
(суббота)
Было почти 10 вечера, когда я снова надела ботинки и собралась уходить (из отеля). У Дези была сильная головная боль, и она не захотела пойти со мной. Я удостоверилась, что она не против остаться одна и решила все-таки идти. Не очень уютно разгуливать по Village в десять вечера, но я намеревалась увидеть Рэнди несмотря ни на что. Понятия не имею, почему собралась идти пешком, а не взять такси, но решила, что пройду сколько смогу, а если устану или начну бояться, то поймаю такси и доеду остаток пути.
У меня заняло около получаса чтобы дойти до театра. Внутри я нашла Барбару, стоящую в очереди. Утром, я пыталась купить билеты онлайн на субботний вечер, но, согласно сайту, продающему билеты – билетов не было. Так что я прошла 25 кварталов до театра не имея билета на спектакль. Я спросила Барбару, нет ли у нее лишнего, но у нее даже не было для себя. Мы были рады узнать, когда касса открылась, что билеты еще есть.
Субботний вечерний спектакль не был распродан, но оставалось только около 10-и свободных мест, в театре имеющем менее ста мест. Мы с Дези оба раза, что были здесь, сидели в одной и той же части зала, слева на втором ряду, но в субботу вечером я оказалась справа на третьем ряду. Все действие, что происходит дома у Маршалла, происходит на правой стороне сцены. В пятницу я следила за сюжетом пьесы, в субботу и воскресенье мое внимание было целиком приковано к Рэнди. Какое же это удовольствие, иметь возможность наблюдать за каждым его движением и выражением лица.
Как ни сильно я наслаждалась спектаклем, лучший момент вечера был после окончания. По какой-то причине никто не ждал Рэнди после спектакля кроме меня. Я стояла на улице у подножия лестницы когда он вышел. Он был с Марси, своей школьной подругой и девушкой, чью героиню его персонаж убивает в пьесе. Камера у меня была наготове, но я не взглянула в видоискатель, вместо этого смотрела, как он спускается по лестнице. Рядом со мной стояли два парня, он подошел, поздоровался с одним из них за руку, поблагодарил его за то, что пришел. После очень краткого разговора он стал уходить. На нем была серая футболка и джинсы, думаю. Вечная кепка и рюкзак на спине. Поскольку весь день шел дождь, у него был большой красный зонтик, но он не нес его в руках, а зонт висел у него за спиной, оставляя обе его руки свободными. Я стояла там, рядом со счетчиком за парковку и смотрела, как он медленно идет по улице. Он раз или два посмотрел по сторонам, и казалось, что он не торопится. Не было фанатов, выкрикивающих его имя, не было вспышек фотоаппаратов в лицо. Я смотрела на него до тех пор, пока он не повернул за угол, и только тогда, дойдя до другого угла, поймала такси и поехала в отель.
Я гадала время от времени, почему позволила Рэнди уйти вместо того, чтобы побежать за ним и поговорить. Там не было никого кроме нас, и у меня была возможность пообщаться с ним один на один. Да, иногда я сожалею, что не заговорила с ним, но думаю то, что я видела, было еще более восхитительным. Мне удалось увидеть просто Рэнди, таким, какой он есть и наслаждающимся уединенным моментом в городе, который он так любит. Думаю, это мало с чем можно сравнить.
………….
(воскресенье)
Около часу тридцати мы пришли в театр и забрали наши билеты. Лестница уже стала знакомой, но я все еще чувствовала бабочек в животе, когда слышала музыку и видела обитателей ‘Beat My Guest’ фетиш-клуба, которые уже были на сцене. При третьем просмотре пьеса подействовала на меня не меньше, возможно оттого, что я знала, что вижу ее в последний раз.
Дези пришла в голову идея отключить вспышку и сделать фотографии, когда в конце актеры выйдут на поклон. Она могла бы снимать и во время действия, и никто бы не заметил, но она не сделала этого. Это было бы неправильно и ни одной из нас даже не пришло в голову. После окончания спектакля невысокая светловолосая женщина подошла к сцене и попросила всех (актеров) задержаться на минуту, потому что надо было сделать снимки. Я предполагаю, что для памятного альбома, но не уверена. Из зрителей в зале оставались несколько человек, десять или двенадцать, и у большинства из них были камеры. Я встала в центре и стала снимать, и несколько кадров вышли довольно хорошо.
Наконец, нам сказали, что мы должны выйти на улицу, где столпилось много народу. И опять было невозможно определить, кто из них ждал Рэнди. Когда он вышел снова в сопровождении Марси, он выглядел немного нервно. Уверена, он был уставшим после позднего субботнего спектакля. Полагаю, нам следовало оставить его в покое, но мы этого не сделали. Да, там были некоторые «фанаты», которых мне хотелось пристукнуть, но я надеюсь, что положительный опыт, который он получил от общения с большинством своих фанатов оставит более длительное впечатление, чем от встречи с глупыми, чокнутыми и опасными. Я подошла и попросила автограф, и он сказал мне «привет снова». Я спросила, можно ли сфотографироваться, я всегда спрашиваю, не предполагаю, и он ответил, что да. Дези быстро сделала снимок. Мы поблагодарили его и сказали, что думаем, что он был великолепен и получили последнюю прекрасную улыбку прежде, чем ушли. Посреди всего этого сумасшествия, он остается милым и воспитанным молодым человеком.
'A Letter From Ethel Kennedy. Май 2002.
Pictures from our trip to see Randy's NY stage debut in
'A Letter From Ethel Kennedy' in May 2002.
смотреть фото и читать дальшеOn Friday, May 10, 2002, and Saturday, May 11, 2002, my daughter, Desiree, and I attended performances of 'A Letter From Ethel Kennedy' at the MCC Theater in Manhattan. This was a particularly special occasion for me, because this play marked Randy Harrison's New York stage debut. A complete account of my 'close encounter' with a wonderfully talented young man is chronicled below, complete with pictures we took on Saturday night. I've also written a highly-subjective review of the play.
Randy with a very happy fan. This was taken by my daughter, Desiree.
Рэнди с очень счастливой фанаткой. Это было снято моей дочерью Desiree.
This photograph is a little out of focus because my hands were shaking. I felt like a teenager when I saw Randy.
Это фото немного не в фокусе, потому что у меня тряслись руки. Я чувствую себя тинэйджером, когда вижу Рэнди.
Another not-so-great photo, taken by me. Randy was concentrating on signing while half a dozen people were trying to talk to him.
Еще одно не слишком удачное фото, сделанное мной. Рэнди сосредоточен на подписывании (автографа), в то время как полдюжины человек пытаются говорить с нним.
Here's another photo of Randy with a fan. When he's talking to you or looking at you, you feel like the only person in the world.
Еще одно фото Рэнди с фанаткой. Когда он говорит с тобой или смотрит на тебя, ты чувствуешь себя единственным человеком в мире.
отчет и ревью не влезли в пост, читать в каментах (без перевода)
Показ 301 в Торонто и Q&A. 19 марта 2003
тут moveforever.diary.ru/p168707215.htm повторно постить не буду, хотя там так и недовыложены ее же фотки с мероприятия этого, сделанные до того, как прибыли Хэл и Рэнди, позже остальных, потому что были заняты на съемках
Чтение JT Leroy в Питтсбурге.
читать дальшеPictures of Randy at the JT Leroy Reading
Warhol Museum - Pittsburgh, PA
April 18, 2003
After all the glitz and media attention at the JT Leroy event in NYC the night before, it was a breath of fresh air to have a low-key evening on Friday night in Pittsburgh. Randy, who seemed to be very much at ease, read 3 separate passages from 3 separate JT Leroy stories. He was introduced as a long-time friend of the author and the enthusiasm with which he read was obvious.
In contrast to the night before, cameras were allowed in the theater, and I took advantage of that fact. I'm not a great photographer, but my close proximity to the stage (second row) made it easy to get some decent shots of Randy. I apologise for the fact that the microphone is in front of Randy's face in some of the shots, but they were too good not to share. I hope you-all enjoy the photos as much as I enjoyed getting them.
фотки здесь есть все gallery.kinnetiks.net/thumbnails.php?album=320
еще она записала там аудио, но у меня комп в нерабочем состоянии, так что... впрочем качества оно сильно не ахти.
То, что оставила фандому Cathy Madden. Фотки все в общем известные (в этой части которые), только обычно не особо известно, что это именно ее.
Ну и отчеты и ревью. Отчет о поездке в НЙ на Deviant я перевела, опуская отрывки не относящиеся к спектаклю и рэнди (если где накосячено, дайте знать)
'A Letter From Ethel Kennedy. Май 2002
DEVIANT, август 2002
Toronto Q&A, март 2003
JT Leroy Reading, Питтсбург, апрель 2003.
DEVIANT, август 2002
On Friday, August 23, Saturday, August 24 and Sunday, August 25, 2002, I was back in New York, to see Randy in his latest play, Deviant. Here are some pictures we took after the performances, as well as my highly-subjective review of the play.
В пятницу 23-го августа, субботу 24-го и воскресенье 25-го я снова была в Нью-Йорке, чтобы увидеть Рэнди в его последнем спектакле, Deviant. Здесь некотороые фотографии, которые мы сделали после спектаклей, а также мое очень субъективное ревью.
This is a picture of Randy and me outside the theater Sunday afternoon. Maybe the reason he's always so nice to me is that I make him feel tall.: )
Это фото Рэнди и меня у театра в воскресенье днем. Возможно, причина по которой он всегда так мил со мной, что рядом со мной он чувствует себя высоким : )
This is a picture of my daughter, Desiree, and Randy, taken outside the theater on Friday night. She's about 5'7" and they're practically the same height.
Это фото моей дочери Desiree и Рэнди, сделано у театра в пятницу вечером. Она около 5'7 дюймов и они практически одного роста.
Смотреть и читать дальшеThese next 4 pictures were taken during the curtain call on Sunday. My daughter turned the flash off on her camera and we got lucky.
Следующие 4 фото сделаны во время выхода актеров на поклон в воскресенье. Моя дочь выключила вспышку и нам повезло.
The cast acknowledges the audience and the playwright. Randy is looking after the guinea pig.: )
Актеры приветствуют аудиторию и драматурга. Рэнди присматривает за морской свинкой. : )
The cast is all smiles as they bask in the glow of a very appreciative audience.
Актеры улыбаются, наслаждаясь своим успехом.
A little bit closer shot of Randy, looking adorable.
Чуть более крупный снимок Рэнди, выглядящего очаровательно.
This picture always makes me laugh because it looks like Randy is ogling the girl on the platform.: ) In reality, he's turning to leave the stage and she just happens to be standing there.
Эта фотография всегда вызывает у меня смех, потому что на ней кажется, что Рэнди кокетничает с девушкой на платформе. : ) На самом деле он поворачивается, чтобы покинуть сцену, а она просто стоит там.
These next 3 pictures were taken during a photo session, which took place after the Sunday afternoon performance. They are supposed to be re-enacting scenes from the play.
Три следующих фото сделаны во время фотосессии, которая состоялась после дневного воскресного спектакля. Там должны были быть повторены сцены из спектакля.
This is a re-enactment of the scene where Marshall (Randy) sees the Carrotfucker for the first time.
Это воссоздание сцены в которой Marshall (Рэнди) в первый раз видит Carrotfucker.
Another picture of Randy with the inhabitants of the fetish club.
Еще одно фото Рэнди с обитателями фетиш-клуба.
I'm not sure what Randy is looking at, but he doesn't look happy. Maybe this was when the guinea pig bit him.: )
Не уверена на что смотрит Рэнди, но он не выглядит счастливым. Может это тогда, когда морская свинка укусила его.: )
These last 4 pictures were taken outside the theater after the Sunday performance. It's a small street but I think you can get an idea of what Randy has to deal with when he's surrounded by fans.
Эти последние 4 фотографии сделаны у театра после воскресного спектакля. Это маленькая улица (маленький театр), но, думаю, вы получите представление с чем Рэнди приходится иметь дело, когда он окружен фанатами.
Posing for pictures...
Позируя для фото...
Trying to concentrate when several people are calling your name at once...
Пытаясь сосредоточиться, когда несколько человек одновременно окликают тебя по имени...
The utmost patience and grace under adverse conditions...
Предельное спокойствие и вежливость в неблагоприятных условиях...
Just one more autograph...
Еще один автограф
My review of 'Deviant' (без перевода)
читать дальшеDeviant
a highly subjective review
Before I share my thoughts about ‘Deviant’, I have a confession to make: I had some serious second (and third and fourth and fifth) thoughts about this play. Even after I’d bought my tickets and made the plane and hotel reservations, I was wondering how I would react to it. I’m not in my twenties any more - hell, I’m not even in my thirties. While I consider myself the most liberal and open-minded forty-something woman I know, a play about bizarre sexual fetishes didn’t exactly seem like an evening of light entertainment. It sounded shocking, and I hope I’ve retained the ability to be shocked. Certainly, not as easily as I could have been shocked twenty-five years ago but, if a person loses his or her capacity to be shocked, they risk becoming so jaded that nothing excites them any more. I still enjoy being excited.
In the end, the determining factor was Randy Harrison. I’ve often said I’d pay to see him stand on a bare stage and read the telephone book. Granted, ‘Deviant’ was a far cry from the Yellow Pages. By the time I strolled into the Kraine Theater on Friday night, August 23rd, I’d read several reviews and gotten emails from a couple of friends who’d seen it. I was calm. I was collected. I was ready for anything they threw at me.
Or so I thought.
Yes, ‘Deviant’ disturbed me, but not in totally bad way.
I can almost see your questioning looks. How, you ask, can a disturbance be anything but a negative experience?
According to dictionary.com, to disturb is to ‘move deeply’. The connotation is neither positive nor negative. Another definition of disturb is ‘to break up or destroy the tranquillity or settled state of’. What is more settled in most of us than our sexual identity? The way we perceive ourselves and our partners affects how we deal with everyone else. While we may discover new things that turn us on and, at the same time, we realise that some of the old tried-and-true things don’t do it for us any more, our basic perception of what is and isn’t sexy changes little.
‘Deviant’ challenged many of the things I’d thought were un-challenge-able: what is (and isn’t) sexy and why something turns one person on and another person off.
As we enter the theater, most of the cast is already onstage. Everyone, with the exception of one female, is paired up, participating in various manifestations of bdsm behaviour. It’s all pretty vanilla, as sexual perversion goes. A young man enters and everyone immediately recognises him as a ‘real’ perv. Which he is. Is it paranoia when everyone really *is* looking at you? Ariel Brooke does a good job as the de facto narrator, relating the ground rules to Marshall (Randy Harrison).
Marshall has little time for conversation. He’s here to find a partner, but not just anyone. He’s looking for a woman with a ‘dead-eye look’. Someone who is ‘almost gone’. He approaches a girl who’s enjoying a special moment with a carrot; we only ever know her as ‘Carrotfucker’. Marshall sees, in her, the qualities he needs and offers her money to come home with him. She won’t have to fuck him, he assures her. He’s never fucked a human, he later tells her. She agrees and they leave together.
For those of you who have only ever seen Randy as Justin Taylor on Queer as Folk, this was a departure for him. There was no Justin in Marshall, not even a little bit. Marshall was judgmental, while eschewing the right of others to judge him. His statement to Carrotfucker: ‘Don’t look at me like *I’m* the strange one,’ is Marshall in nutshell. He was controlling and overbearing and, at the same time, pathetic and very sad. He’d suicide-proofed his apartment, getting rid of Drano, extension cords, long tube socks and he retained bars on his windows, despite living on the second floor. Even though it was never said, I got the idea that he was a solitary soul; his most loyal companion was the ‘Fucking Guilt’ that he carried with him at all times. He was driven, by his obsession, to participate in an activity that he knew to be wrong, but was unable to stop himself from doing.
The main complaint I have about ‘Deviant’ is that we never got to truly understand where Marshall’s fascination with crushing came from. He recreated an idyllic scene, supposedly from his childhood, in which he watched his parents having sex on a carpet of bugs, and then he said it never happened. We were treated to the complete backstory of how the Carrotfucker came to be capable of copulating only with carrots. Not dildos or cucumbers - just carrots. It was a sad story of trying to de-flower herself so she could have sex with the most popular boy in school, Steve Patrey, played cockily by Jason Lopez. Marshall’s formative years are never dealt with and I think the story suffers because of it.
Another interesting thing I noticed was in the ‘wrestling match’ between Fucking Guilt and Lust. It occurs in the context of Marshall’s fantasy life. When he masturbates, Marshall confesses that he pictures his head on the body of a bug. He looks up to see a large high heel shoe descending toward him, intent to quashing him like a… well, like the bug that he imagines himself to be. He doesn’t know the identity of the woman attached to the shoe and he doesn’t care. All he cares about is that the shoe presses down on him, pushing his intestines up and out his throat and down and out his ass. He is a second away from orgasm when he’s overcome by…
Fucking Guilt.
In the midst of this serious scene about how it feels to be trampled, the match between Fucking Guilt and Lust is a silly and much-needed comedic change-of-pace. As I watched this scene, I wondered if it was a coincidence that Fucking Guilt was played by a female and Lust was played by a male. I might call it misogynistic if the playwright was a man, but it was written by a woman. Still, it was curious.
By the way, the wrestling match was a draw. It was very well choreographed by Jim Cairl, who played several parts, including Louie the Loser, Marshall’s dad and the guy who called the phone sex line and wanted to talk about cars.
Marshall listens, politely, as the Carrotfucker relates her life’s story but we get the idea that he only pretends to be interested. She’s there to do what he’s already paid her to do. He starts off slowly, with a worm. Unless, he says, she has a special place in her heart for worms. If so, they can start with something else. Despite being disgusted, she agrees to trample the worm. Marshall hands her a pair of red high heel shoes. Her observation that the heels are covered by guts and blood isn’t even acknowledged as Marshall gets everything ready. He loving touches the shoes, then her feet, before helping her put them on.
He doesn’t want her to kill the worm immediately. He gets excited as he watches her playing with it with the heel of her shoe. At his command, she stomps the worm repeatedly, while he watches, enthralled. She’s camping it up, showing him some skin as she performs her task. He looks at her in disgust. ‘I’m not interested in your face,’ he tells her. She says she’s just trying to make it good for herself. At the mention that she’s having fun, Marshall is emboldened. He pulls more money out of his pocket and drops it on the floor. He then reaches into a cage and pulls out a guinea pig.
I think this is the minute that the tone of the play changes from kinky to dangerous. The girl is obviously disgusted by what Marshall wants her to do. She tries to tell him, but he’s not listening. He’s given her more money and he honestly doesn’t think there’s any difference between trampling a worm or a guinea pig. She tries to leave, but he stops her. Realising the change in his demeanour, she agrees. He turns away to get things ready and she makes a break for the door. This has obviously happened to him before, and he’s ready for it. He grabs her. She struggles. He slaps her, hard, knocking her to the floor, unconscious.
Marshall wants - needs - someone to help him complete what he’s started. If he can’t get the girl to co-operate, he’ll call someone who will, for $2.99 a minute. He tells the phone sex operator that the girl won’t fulfill her end of the bargain. She wants to talk to the girl but she’s unconscious. It’s obvious that, because Marshall can’t get her to talk on the phone, the operator doesn’t believe there *is* a girl there. Maybe she thinks Marshall has one of those blow-up dolls. She tells Marshall to show his ‘girl’ how it feels to be trampled, and he does. In the very brief final scene between Marshall and the Carrotfucker, he seems to have lost the last vestige of humanity that he’s been clinging to.
That scene was very difficult to watch, even after I’d seen it once or twice. I won’t describe, in great detail, how Marshall kills the girl, but that’s what happens. If you want the whole scene described, email me and I’ll tell you. There are two more phone sex monologues after that scene, in which Marshall sits quietly by the body of the Carrotfucker, trying to deal with what he’d just done.
Everyone in the cast is wonderful and it’s obvious that they’re having a great time. Before Friday night’s performance, I met the mother of one of the cast members. Barbara’s daughter, Emily Parker, played Fucking Guilt, Marshall’s mom, Kelly Stirrup and the phone sex operator who talked about cars, and she was very good. Sara Trachtenberg (who played Stephanie Prushinski and the phone sex girl who talked about the puppy), Melanie Warner (who played the phone sex operator whose foot had been cut off) and Fred Urfer (who played Lust and the phone sex guys who talked about wounds and the puppy) were all marvelous. They played several roles, sometimes changing from one character to another on the stage. Another favourite of mine was Rob DeRosa, who played the Satanfucker. That character was crazy and funny and totally off-the-wall, certainly one of the comedic highlights of the play.
The anonymous female lead, known only to us as the Carrotfucker was played, amazingly, by Marci Adilman. Her portrayal of a woman who had taken a long and unhappy road to where she was in life was, at the same time, fascinating and sad. If she hated humans, as she said, why was she in a fetish club, surrounded by lots of sweating humans? She also said she hated herself, and that she was afraid she’d accidentally kill herself and everyone would think she did it on purpose. She certainly didn’t seem to care that she was engaging in very risky behaviour - leaving a sex club with a man you don’t know, but who paid you $200 to go home with him isn’t rational behaviour. Still, Randy and Marci worked very well together. They went to high school together in Atlanta and they acted together before he went to CCM and she went to NYU. I’d love to see them together again on stage.
But the #1 attraction of the play, for me, was the reason I traveled 1400 miles to search for a tiny theater in the East Village of NYC on a hot August weekend: Randy Harrison. This is the second play I’ve seen him in and he just keeps getting better and better. I’ve heard a few criticisms of the play, and his portrayal of Marshall. First of all, I couldn’t disagree more that he did little beyond reciting his lines. His performance was understated and touching and heartbreaking. He played a man who was a prisoner of his sexual obsession; for him, there was no way out of his self-imposed prison. The fanfic writer in me wants to know what happens to Marshall next - will he be arrested for murder? Will he be judged insane? Will he spend the rest of his life in an asylum? The fact that I even care what happens to Marshall is due to the amazing job Randy did of bringing the character to life.
The one-act play is very short - only about an hour long - but there’s a great deal to keep your eyes glued to the stage. There’s also a great deal to make you think about long after the play is over. I’m sure different people got different things out of it. There were those who were simply disgusted by Randy’s character and what he did. Then there were others, like me, who saw a deeper meaning. As a matter of fact, I’m still trying to understand what *I* took away from it. Maybe the most important thing I got was the folly of judging people. We have no idea what someone has endured during his or her lifetime and it’s not fair to expect them to conform to our idea of what’s right and what’s wrong. It ‘disturbed’ my rather complacent view of what’s acceptable sexual behaviour, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Everyone needs to be shaken up a little every once in a while.
What I Did on my Summer Vacation - our trip to NY to see Randy Harrison in ‘Deviant’ in August 2002 (на английском)
читать дальшеWhen we left NY in May 2002, after having spent 3 wonderful days being tourists and seeing Randy’s NY stage debut in ‘A Letter from Ethel Kennedy’, I was already looking forward to going back in 2003 to see him again. Little did I know that his next stage appearance would be a mere three and a half months later, in August.
The name of the play he was in was called ‘Deviant’ and it was part of the NYC Fringe Festival, a seventeen-day extravaganza of plays, one-person shows and other avante garde theater held in the East Village every August. ‘Deviant’ was billed as a look into the weird world of sexual fetishes and phone sex. It sounded risky. Okay, it sounded downright scary, but it was Randy, after all.
I tried to make arrangements to go on the first weekend that the play was on but it didn’t work out. I had to settle for the final two performances: August 23rd and 25th. My daughter was working and couldn’t take more than two days off this time around. We didn’t have time to drive, like we had last time, so we flew.
So, we headed north very early on Friday morning. When we arrived at LaGuardia, we went out to find a taxi to the city. Just outside, a young, cute guy approached us and asked if we needed a cab. We said yes. He asked where we were going and we told him. He said he had a car and would take us, if we didn’t mind sharing with someone else. His ‘car’ was a limousine. We looked at each other and agreed. As we sat in the car and waited for the other passengers, I had this flash of us being strangled and thrown into the East River, but he seemed okay.
It was a neat trip into the city. The other passengers were from Kentucky and they were staying in Times Square. We went to their hotel first and then to ours. I’d found this cute little gay bed and breakfast on West 14th Street, in Greenwich Village. It turned out to be an ideal location for us, close to everything we wanted to see.
After checking in and dragging our suitcases up 3 flights of very steep stairs, it was time to go out. My daughter is a huge hockey fan and she’d heard that there’s a tour of Madison Square Garden. We started out walking from 14th Street to 35th Street, and made it in about half an hour. It was a neat tour, lasting about an hour. Afterwards, we had lunch in the restaurant for season ticket holders, called Play By Play.
From Madison Square Garden, we walked up to 40th Street and 8th Avenue, across the street from the Port Authority Bus Terminal. Desiree had gotten a tattoo when we were in NY last May and she was ready to get another one. She chose another Egyptian symbol - I can’t remember what it’s called - for her left ankle. I’d had this weird idea about getting a tattoo as well, but I wasn’t totally sure. While Desi was in the other room, I looked at all the art on the walls. When she got finished, I still hadn’t made up my mind. She told me not to get anything unless I was sure, which I wasn’t. We told the guys that we were going down to the ATM at the store next door and that we had to talk about what I wanted.
We did go down and get some money out of the ATM, but we didn’t go back upstairs to the tattoo parlor. I was still waffling about what I wanted and where I wanted it, so we bought a couple of six-packs of sodas and took a cab back to the hotel.
We chilled out for a couple of hours before I couldn’t take it any more and we left for the theater. It would have been a long walk, so we took a cab. The Kraine Theater is very small, without any kind of sign to identify itself. The door was open and there were several people sitting on the steps, so we figured that was where we were headed. It was too early to go over there so we stopped at a bar across the street, called East Fourth Street Bar. We sat outside and had a drink and an order of mozzarella sticks and watched the people across the street.
It was a little after 8 when we paid the bill and walked across the street. There were 2 long lines meandering down the front stairs of the building. One was to pick up tickets from will call and the other was to get in the theater once you had your tickets. We got in line in front of a middle-aged lady who told us that her sister was in the other line, so they could get better seats. Desi went over and got in line behind the sister. The lady turned out to be the mother of one of the cast members. Her daughter, Emily Parker, was one of the best actors in the play, IMO. I told her that we’d come from SC and she said, ‘I bet I know who *you* came to see!’ She told me that Randy was a sweet person and the cast loved working with him. She also told me that Randy was concerned about stalkers, and she *did* use the word ‘stalker’. She said he couldn’t understand it; all he wanted to do was work on the play. It was obvious that Barbara, as the mother of a young stage actor, was upset by what she was telling me.
I asked Barbara why Randy had gotten the part in this play. She said he went to high school with one of the girls in the company, but she couldn’t remember which one. I found out later that Randy’s former classmate was Marci Adilman, the female lead. Sometime during that time, while we were waiting to pick up our tickets, another lady walked up and started talking to Barbara. Barbara told her that I had come from SC to see the play and she was delighted. I told her that ‘Deviant’ had been a very hot topic on several of the mailing lists I’m on and she almost couldn’t believe it. Desi told me, later on, that she was the author of the play, Sophie Rand.
It was about this time when I found out that, because ‘Deviant’ had sold out its entire run, they had added an additional performance on Saturday night at 11pm. Of course, I was going to be there, if I could get a ticket. I had my first viewing of the play to get through before I had to worry about Saturday night. I have to confess that I had butterflies in my stomach as we made our way up the stairs and into the theater.
My review of ‘Deviant’ is posted elsewhere on this site, so I won’t go into many details about the play. Suffice to say that I thought Randy was phenomenal. He just keeps getting better every time I see him. I have no idea what attracts him to characters that seem to be nothing like Justin Taylor - maybe that’s their main attraction. I don’t know. All I know is that I was mesmerised by Marshall and his plight.
Of course, the play didn’t last nearly long enough - only about an hour. We made our way out of the tiny theater and back out to the street, to wait for Randy’s appearance. I should mention watching him enter the theater before the play. Apparently, there’s only one way into the theater and that’s through the front door. We were standing on the stairs, waiting for the box office to open, when the cast filed in right beside us. Randy is dressed in his everyday clothes with a cap on his head and shoved way down over his eyes. If he thought he was fooling anyone, he was wrong. Each time he entered the theater, someone around me would say to his or her companion, ‘That was Randy Harrison. Did you see him?’ It was almost like a pact was formed between Randy and his fans: we would pretend we didn’t recognise him and he wouldn’t question it. I was in a position to speak to him every time, but I didn’t. He was on the way to work and it would have been unforgivable to disturb him.
So, we’re standing outside the theater. It’s hard to tell how many people are there to see Randy and how many are there visiting with other members of the cast. Desi had informed me that she wanted a picture with Randy, if we could get it. When he came down the steps, there were several people speaking to him at once. I’m sure people were asking him for autographs but I didn’t. I stepped up and told him that we had come from SC to see him back in May, and now we were back. He looked at me very briefly and smiled one of those million-watt smiles. ‘I remember,’ he said, and I believed him. I asked if we could have a picture and he said, ‘sure’. Desi was a little bit hesitant and I couldn’t back up very far because of the crowd but we got the picture. We both told him how great he was. Again, he smilingly acknowledged us and we backed away, allowing someone else to have their moment with him. When he walked away, a few minutes later, he was followed down the street by a couple of guys. I found out, later, that they were security people hired by the production company to look after him.
After our moment with Randy, I ran into a friend of mine from one of the Yahoo groups. I’d looked for Polina before the play but couldn’t find her. We walked up to the next street corner and talked for a while and then we started walking home. Despite sore feet and blisters, we managed to walk all the way back to 14th Street, to our hotel. It took us over an hour to make the journey and we talked about all kinds of QAF stuff, as well as other stuff. I had an extra ticket to the Sunday afternoon show and I invited her to come, but she already had plans. It was almost midnight when we bid good night to our friend at the front door of the hotel.
Saturday dawned gray and wet. The forecast was for rain all day, but we didn’t care. A little bit of rain wasn’t going to deter us from our touristic duties. We took a cab to Rockefeller Center, where we took pictures of the NBC studios. One of those double-decker tour buses stopped on a street corner and we were asked if we’d like to buy a tour that went all over the southern part of the island. We couldn’t think of a good reason not to, so we paid the man and climbed on.
Times Square is a crazy place from any angle. From the top of a tour bus, we could see everything. It was raining lightly but not enough to make us want to go downstairs. We traveled from Times Square to Greenwich Village, Soho, Chinatown, Little Italy and by Ground Zero to Battery Park, where we got off. We stopped to look at The Sphere, from the site of the World Trade Center, and we walked over and took pictures of the ferries. Desi bought a pair of ‘Oakley’ sunglasses from a guy in the park and we each bought a hat to keep the rain off our faces. We spent a few minutes there and caught the bus back up to Central Park.
We got off the bus again at the Plaza Hotel. On our last trip, I’d tried to talk Desi into going into the Plaza, but she wouldn’t go. This time, we had to go to the bathroom, and I convinced her that we’d find one in the hotel. I wanted us to eat lunch at The Palm Court restaurant, but they had a dress code and we had on jeans. Maybe next time… We walked out of the Plaza and sat down on a bench at the south end of Central Park. I told Desi that I’d made up my mind about the tattoo; I asked if she’d go back to the tattoo parlor with me. She said yes and we caught a cab back to the Port Authority Bus Terminal.
I chose a very small tattoo, a spider web, which I wanted on the top of my right foot. There was supposed to be some pale blue shading, but I didn’t want it. It’s basically only the outline of the spider web. I realise it’s somewhat silly for a woman in her late forties to get a tattoo, but I don’t care. I’ve wanted one for years and watching my daughter getting her two made me realise how much I really wanted one. The tattoo was the object of much discussion amongst some of my co-workers when I returned home.
Our next order of business was a tour of Ground Zero. We’d signed up for the same tour in May but, due to inclement weather, we had to take a driving tour rather than a walking tour. We arrived at the southeast corner of Broadway and Chambers Street at about 4:30, half an hour early. We met up with our old friend, Gary. He told us that a film crew from Holland would be following us and asked if we minded. We told him no. He had to go and to a short interview with them and we found a drugstore so we could buy Desi a poncho because the rain was getting harder.
When we got back across the street to where Gary was, the Dutch news guy asked if we’d mind answering a few questions. I assured him that we weren’t ‘typical New Yorkers’ and he said that was okay. They wanted to talk to ‘ordinary Americans’ about 9/11. He asked us several questions about why we were there, why we felt the need to visit Ground Zero, did we think it was morbid to visit the site and what we thought we would get out of the experience. We answered all the questions as best we could and I hope we didn’t sound like idiots. I tried to portray the feeling that all of us are Americans and we feel as much a part of what happened as the people who lived in the shadow of the WTC. Desi related the stories of friends of hers who were supposed to be in the towers on the morning of the attack, and whom they couldn’t locate until the next day. I asked the reporter if the people in Europe thought it was morbid to visit the site and he said no. He said we made some good points and he thanked us for our candor. During the tour, the camera focused on Desi’s face a number of times; she has a very mobile face and her reactions to what she was seeing was worth a thousand words of commentary.
We were in a somber mood as we walked around what used to be the World Trade Center that rainy Saturday afternoon. I kept thinking of the Stevie Ray Vaughn song, ‘The Sky is Crying’. There’s really nothing left to see there - just some cranes and other construction equipment in a big hole in the ground. Despite the fact that there was a mob of people around, the silence was stifling. I don’t know what the other people were thinking and feeling, but I silenced by the weight of the emotions that are focused on that location. I’m glad I got to walk down there and pay my respects, but I don’t think I want to do it again.
We exited the tour a little early because of the rain. We caught a cab back to our hotel. We hadn’t eaten anything all day except for a pretzel and a small bag of goldfish. We found a lovely little family restaurant down the street from the hotel and we had a great dinner, complete with chocolate ice cream for dessert. We walked back to the hotel and crashed for about an hour, until it was time to start out for the theater again.
It was a little before 10 when I put my shoes back on and prepared to leave. Desi had a really bad headache and didn’t want to go. I made sure she didn’t mind staying by herself and I made my decision to go alone. I wasn’t totally comfortable with walking around in the Village at 10pm on a Saturday night, but I was going to see Randy, no matter what. I have no idea what possessed me to walk, rather than taking a cab, but I decided to walk as far as I could; if I got tired or felt unsafe, I’d take a cab the rest of the way.
Far from feeling unsafe, I was fascinated by the Village after dark. The walk consisted of 15 blocks east, from 8th Avenue to 3rd Avenue (1 avenue block is equivalent to 3 street blocks) and then 10 blocks south, from 14th Street to 4th Street. I passed by some characters, including a young man peeing on the street - he was mortified when he turned around and saw me.
It only took me about half an hour to get to the theater. I found my friend, Barbara, standing in line inside the theater. We’d gotten online Saturday morning and tried to buy tickets to the Saturday night performance but, according to the Ticketweb site, there were no tickets. So, I’d walked 25 blocks to the theater, without a ticket to the play. I asked Barbara if she had an extra ticket but she didn’t even have a ticket for herself. We were delighted to learn, when the box office opened, that there were some tickets available.
The Saturday night performance wasn’t sold out but there were only about 10 vacant seats, this in a theater that had a capacity of less than 100 seats. Desi and I sat in the same place both times we were there, second row on the far left-hand side. On Saturday night, I sat in the third row toward the right-hand side. All of the action that’s set in Marshall’s apartment takes place on the right-hand side of the stage as you’re looking at it. I’d watched the show Friday for plot; the Saturday and Sunday viewings consisted totally of watching Randy. What a treat to be able to follow his every move and expression.
I thought the Saturday night crowd was more animated than the Friday night crowd. I found out, later, that the cast thought we were all asleep on Saturday night.
As much as I enjoyed the performance, the best moment of the night happened afterwards. For some reason, there was no one waiting on Randy after the show, except me. I was standing on the street at the bottom of the stairs when he came out. He was walking with Marci, his friend from high school and the girl his character kills during the play. I had my camera ready but I didn’t look in the viewfinder; instead, I watched him walk down the stairs. There were 2 guys standing near me; he walked over and shook hands with one of them, thanking him for coming. After a very brief conversation, he started walking down the street. He had on a gray t-shirt and jeans, I think. He had on the ever-present cap and the backpack on his back. Because it had been raining all day, he had a large, red umbrella. He didn’t carry it, though; it was slung on his back, leaving both his hands free. I stood there, next to a parking meter, and watched him walk slowly down the street. He looked around once or twice and he seemed to be in no hurry whatever. There were no fans yelling his name, no camera flashes in his face as he strolled down the street. I watched him until he turned the corner and then I went to the other corner and caught a cab to the hotel.
I’ve wondered, from time to time, why I let Randy walk away from me, rather than running after him and speaking to him. It would have been just the two of us and I would have had the opportunity to have a one-on-one conversation with him. Yes, I sometimes regret not speaking to him, but I think that what I saw was more amazing than if I had. I got to see Randy being himself and enjoying a moment of solitude in a city that he really loves. IMO, that was pretty special.
Sunday morning was bright and sunny and warm, the opposite of what Saturday was. The play didn’t start until 1:45, but we left the hotel a little after 12. We walked down the street, enjoying the view of lots of firemen at the scene of a fire down the street. We found a Baskins Robbins and had ice cream, before resuming our walk. We arrived at the theater early and went over to ‘our place’ - the East Fourth Street Bar, to have another drink.
At about 1:30, we walked over to the theater and picked up our tickets. The walk up the stairs had become a familiar one, but I still had butterflies when I heard the music and saw the inhabitants of the ‘Beat My Guest’ fetish club, who were already on stage. On third viewing, the play was no less devastating to me, maybe because I knew it was the last time I’d see it.
Desi had an idea to turn off the flash in her camera and take photos of the curtain call. She could have taken pictures during the play itself and no one would have known, but she didn’t do that. It wouldn’t have been right and it never occurred to either of us to try. After the curtain call, a short, blond lady walked to the stage and asked everyone to stick around for a minute because they wanted some shots. I assume they were for a scrapbook, but I’m not sure. Several people remained in the audience, at least 10 or 12 people, and most of them had cameras. I walked over to the center of the audience and started snapping pictures and several of them came out pretty good.
We were finally told that we had to go outside, where there was a larger crowd milling around. Once again, it was impossible to tell who was waiting for Randy. When he came out, accompanied by Marci again, he looked a little jittery. I’m sure he was tired after the late show Saturday night. I guess we should have left him alone but we didn’t. Yes, there were some ‘fans’ there that I wanted to slap, but I hope the positive experiences he gets from the majority of his fans makes a more lasting impression on him than the stupid, crazy and dangerous ones do. I stepped up and asked for an autograph and he said, ‘hello again,’ to me. I asked if I could have a picture - I always ask, I don’t assume - and he said yes. Desi got a quick picture of us and we both paused long enough to thank him and tell him how great we thought he was. We got one last, beautiful smile before we walked away. In the midst of all the craziness, he’s still a sweet and polite young man.
As we walked across the street, a man stopped us and asked us what was going on over there. I said it was just a play. I know better than to talk about Randy to someone who doesn’t know who he is.
We had plans to meet a friend of Desi’s at a restaurant on McDougal Street, near Bleecker Street, at 4:30. It was only about 3, so we decided to walk. My map reading still isn’t what it should be and we walked 2 blocks before I realised we were going the wrong way. We reversed our course, walking past the theater once more. Randy was gone, so it didn’t seem like the same place it had been 10 minutes earlier.
We walked west on 4th Street, stopping in Washington Square Park long enough to take some pictures and watch an impromptu ‘show’. The rest of the trip, south on McDougal, was uneventful. We were about half an hour early and we found a place to sit, on the street and watch the people walk by. I’ve said before that the Village is my favourite place in NYC to spend time in. There seems to be more of a community there and something is always going on.
Desi’s friend, Caroline, arrived at about 4:30 and we went inside the restaurant, Monte’s. It was one of those little Italian restaurants like you see on tv, with the white tablecloths and the waiters all dressed up, with wonderful Italian accents. The food was incredible and we had a lovely time. Afterwards, we walked around and looked in the shops for an hour or so. It was about 8 when Caroline had to go home and we caught a cab back to our hotel.
Sunday night was spent in packing and getting ready to leave very early Monday morning. We called the same car service that had brought us in on Friday and he was there to pick us up at 7. As we looked out the windows of the car, looking at the buildings and reading the street signs, we didn’t want to leave. Desi never wants to leave NY and I’m finding it increasingly hard not to be incredibly sad when it’s time to go back to SC. Desi has always wanted to live there and, who knows? Maybe we’ll end up there one of these days.
As for this particular vacation, it was over too soon. We got one last look at the island of Manhattan as our airplane climbed over the city on Monday morning. We both knew we’d be back.
Что я делала на летних каникулах - наше путешествие в НЙ, чтобы увидеть Рэнди Харрисона в Deviant, август 2002. (перевод отчета, за исключением отрывков не касающихся спектакля и рэнди)
читать дальшеКогда мы покинули НЙ в мае 2002, проведя три чудесных дня туристами и посмотрев Рэнди в его дебюте на нью-йоркской сцене в A Letter from Ethel Kennedy, я уже предвкушала, как вернусь туда в 2003-ем, чтобы увидеть его снова. Я не знала, что его следующее появление на сцене состоится всего лишь три с половиной месяца спустя, в августе
............
(пятница)
Мы порасслаблялись (в отеле) пару часов, прежде чем я не выдержала, и мы отправились в театр. Идти бы пришлось долго, и мы взяли такси. Kraine Theater очень маленький и на нем даже нет вывесок. Дверь была открыта и несколько человек сидели на ступенях, ак что мы сообразили, что это то место, куда нам надо. Было еще слишком рано и мы пошли в бар через дорогу. Сели снаружи, взяли напитки и палочки из моцареллы и смотрели на людей на противоположной стороне улицы.
Было начало девятого, когда мы расплатились и пошли обратно к театру. Перед зданием было две длинные очереди. Одна чтобы забрать забронированные билеты, вторая – чтобы после этого войти в театр. Мы оказались в очереди перед женщиной, которая сказала нам, что ее сестра стоит во второй очереди, так что они смогут сесть на места получше. Дези пошла и встала за сестрой этой женщины. Женщина оказалась матерью одной из актрис спектакля. (Ее дочь, Эмили Паркер, была одной из лучших исполнительниц спектакля, имхо.) Я рассказала ей что мы приехали из Южной Каролины и она ответила: « Могу поспорить, что знаю, на кого вы приехали посмотреть!» Она сказала мне, что Рэнди очень приятный человек и всем актерам нравится работать с ним. Еще она сказала, что Рэнди озабочен насчет преследователей, и она действительно употребила слово преследователи. Она сказала, что он не может этого понять; все, чего он хочет – это работать над спектаклем. Было очевидно, что Барбара, как мать молодой актрисы, была огорчена тем, о чем рассказывала мне.
Я спросила Барбару почему Рэнди получил роль в этом спектакле. Она сказала, что он учился в школе вместе с одной из участниц, но не могла вспомнить с какой именно. Позднее я выяснила, что бывшая одноклассница Рэнди – это Марси Адилман, исполняющая главную роль. В какой-то момент, пока мы там стояли, подошла еще одна женщина и заговорила с Барбарой. Барбара сказала ей, что я приехала из Южной Каролины, чтобы посмотреть пьесу, и она обрадовалась. Я сказала ей, что Deviant очень активно обсуждается в некоторых интернет-группах, которые я посещаю, и она едва могла поверить в это. Позже Дези сказала мне, что это была автор пьесы Софи Рэнд.
Примерно в это же время я обнаружила, что поскольку все билеты на Deviant распроданы, был добавлен дополнительный спектакль в субботу в 11 вечера. Конечно я собиралась попасть на него, если смогу взять билет. Но мне еще предстояло впервые увидеть спектакль, прежде чем я должна буду беспокоиться о субботнем вечере. Должна признаться, что у меня в животе порхали бабочки, когда мы поднимались по лестнице к двери театра.
Я выложила свое ревью спектакля, поэтому не буду сильно вдаваться в подробности пьесы. Достаточно сказать, я думаю, что Рэнди был феноменален. Он становится лучше с каждым разом, что я вижу его. Я понятия не имею, что привлекло его в персонаже, но он кажется не имеет ничего общего с Джастином Тейлором – возможно, главным образом это и привлекло. Не знаю. Все, что я знаю, что была заворожена Маршаллом.
Конечно, пьеса не слишком длинная – она шла всего около часа. Мы вышли из крошечного театра на улицу и стали ждать появления Рэнди. Надо упомянуть, что я видела, как он входил в театр перед спектаклем. Определенно, в театре только один вход, через парадную дверь. Мы стояли на лестнице, ожидая открытия билетной кассы, когда актеры появились прямо позади нас. Рэнди был одет в его обычную одежду с кепкой надвинутой на глаза. Если он думал, что ему удастся одурачить кого-нибудь и остаться незамеченным, он ошибался. Каждый раз (все дни), когда он входил в театр кто-нибудь рядом со мной сообщал своему спутнику или спутнице: «Это был Рэнди Харрисон. Вы видели его?». Это было почти как заключенный пакт между Рэнди и его фанатами: мы притворяемся, что не узнали его, а он не сомневается в этом. Каждый раз у меня была возможность заговорить с ним, но я этого не сделала. Он шел работать, и было бы непростительно беспокоить его.
Итак, мы стояли у театра. Трудно сказать, сколько человек пришло, чтобы увидеть Рэнди, а сколько были ради других участников спектакля. Дези сказала мне, что хочет сфотографироваться вместе с Рэнди, если получится. Когда он вышел на лестницу, несколько человек заговорили с ним разом. Люди просили его дать автографы, но я не стала делать этого. Я поднялась и сказала ему, что мы приезжали из Южной Каролины в мае, чтобы увидеть его, и вот теперь вернулись. Он взглянул на меня и улыбнулся своей миллион-ваттной улыбкой, и сказал «Я помню», и я ему поверила. Я спросила, можем ли мы сфотографироваться, и он ответил «конечно». Дэйзи немного застеснялась, а я не могла из-за толпы отойти на нужное расстояние, но мы все же сделали фото. Мы обе сказали Рэнди, что он был великолепен. Он признательно улыбнулся, и мы отошли, позволяя другим пообщаться с ним. Когда он уходил несколькими минутами позже, за ним последовали двое молодых людей. Потом я узнала, что это были охранники, нанятые компанией для него.
…………….
(суббота)
Было почти 10 вечера, когда я снова надела ботинки и собралась уходить (из отеля). У Дези была сильная головная боль, и она не захотела пойти со мной. Я удостоверилась, что она не против остаться одна и решила все-таки идти. Не очень уютно разгуливать по Village в десять вечера, но я намеревалась увидеть Рэнди несмотря ни на что. Понятия не имею, почему собралась идти пешком, а не взять такси, но решила, что пройду сколько смогу, а если устану или начну бояться, то поймаю такси и доеду остаток пути.
У меня заняло около получаса чтобы дойти до театра. Внутри я нашла Барбару, стоящую в очереди. Утром, я пыталась купить билеты онлайн на субботний вечер, но, согласно сайту, продающему билеты – билетов не было. Так что я прошла 25 кварталов до театра не имея билета на спектакль. Я спросила Барбару, нет ли у нее лишнего, но у нее даже не было для себя. Мы были рады узнать, когда касса открылась, что билеты еще есть.
Субботний вечерний спектакль не был распродан, но оставалось только около 10-и свободных мест, в театре имеющем менее ста мест. Мы с Дези оба раза, что были здесь, сидели в одной и той же части зала, слева на втором ряду, но в субботу вечером я оказалась справа на третьем ряду. Все действие, что происходит дома у Маршалла, происходит на правой стороне сцены. В пятницу я следила за сюжетом пьесы, в субботу и воскресенье мое внимание было целиком приковано к Рэнди. Какое же это удовольствие, иметь возможность наблюдать за каждым его движением и выражением лица.
Как ни сильно я наслаждалась спектаклем, лучший момент вечера был после окончания. По какой-то причине никто не ждал Рэнди после спектакля кроме меня. Я стояла на улице у подножия лестницы когда он вышел. Он был с Марси, своей школьной подругой и девушкой, чью героиню его персонаж убивает в пьесе. Камера у меня была наготове, но я не взглянула в видоискатель, вместо этого смотрела, как он спускается по лестнице. Рядом со мной стояли два парня, он подошел, поздоровался с одним из них за руку, поблагодарил его за то, что пришел. После очень краткого разговора он стал уходить. На нем была серая футболка и джинсы, думаю. Вечная кепка и рюкзак на спине. Поскольку весь день шел дождь, у него был большой красный зонтик, но он не нес его в руках, а зонт висел у него за спиной, оставляя обе его руки свободными. Я стояла там, рядом со счетчиком за парковку и смотрела, как он медленно идет по улице. Он раз или два посмотрел по сторонам, и казалось, что он не торопится. Не было фанатов, выкрикивающих его имя, не было вспышек фотоаппаратов в лицо. Я смотрела на него до тех пор, пока он не повернул за угол, и только тогда, дойдя до другого угла, поймала такси и поехала в отель.
Я гадала время от времени, почему позволила Рэнди уйти вместо того, чтобы побежать за ним и поговорить. Там не было никого кроме нас, и у меня была возможность пообщаться с ним один на один. Да, иногда я сожалею, что не заговорила с ним, но думаю то, что я видела, было еще более восхитительным. Мне удалось увидеть просто Рэнди, таким, какой он есть и наслаждающимся уединенным моментом в городе, который он так любит. Думаю, это мало с чем можно сравнить.
………….
(воскресенье)
Около часу тридцати мы пришли в театр и забрали наши билеты. Лестница уже стала знакомой, но я все еще чувствовала бабочек в животе, когда слышала музыку и видела обитателей ‘Beat My Guest’ фетиш-клуба, которые уже были на сцене. При третьем просмотре пьеса подействовала на меня не меньше, возможно оттого, что я знала, что вижу ее в последний раз.
Дези пришла в голову идея отключить вспышку и сделать фотографии, когда в конце актеры выйдут на поклон. Она могла бы снимать и во время действия, и никто бы не заметил, но она не сделала этого. Это было бы неправильно и ни одной из нас даже не пришло в голову. После окончания спектакля невысокая светловолосая женщина подошла к сцене и попросила всех (актеров) задержаться на минуту, потому что надо было сделать снимки. Я предполагаю, что для памятного альбома, но не уверена. Из зрителей в зале оставались несколько человек, десять или двенадцать, и у большинства из них были камеры. Я встала в центре и стала снимать, и несколько кадров вышли довольно хорошо.
Наконец, нам сказали, что мы должны выйти на улицу, где столпилось много народу. И опять было невозможно определить, кто из них ждал Рэнди. Когда он вышел снова в сопровождении Марси, он выглядел немного нервно. Уверена, он был уставшим после позднего субботнего спектакля. Полагаю, нам следовало оставить его в покое, но мы этого не сделали. Да, там были некоторые «фанаты», которых мне хотелось пристукнуть, но я надеюсь, что положительный опыт, который он получил от общения с большинством своих фанатов оставит более длительное впечатление, чем от встречи с глупыми, чокнутыми и опасными. Я подошла и попросила автограф, и он сказал мне «привет снова». Я спросила, можно ли сфотографироваться, я всегда спрашиваю, не предполагаю, и он ответил, что да. Дези быстро сделала снимок. Мы поблагодарили его и сказали, что думаем, что он был великолепен и получили последнюю прекрасную улыбку прежде, чем ушли. Посреди всего этого сумасшествия, он остается милым и воспитанным молодым человеком.
'A Letter From Ethel Kennedy. Май 2002.
Pictures from our trip to see Randy's NY stage debut in
'A Letter From Ethel Kennedy' in May 2002.
смотреть фото и читать дальшеOn Friday, May 10, 2002, and Saturday, May 11, 2002, my daughter, Desiree, and I attended performances of 'A Letter From Ethel Kennedy' at the MCC Theater in Manhattan. This was a particularly special occasion for me, because this play marked Randy Harrison's New York stage debut. A complete account of my 'close encounter' with a wonderfully talented young man is chronicled below, complete with pictures we took on Saturday night. I've also written a highly-subjective review of the play.
Randy with a very happy fan. This was taken by my daughter, Desiree.
Рэнди с очень счастливой фанаткой. Это было снято моей дочерью Desiree.
This photograph is a little out of focus because my hands were shaking. I felt like a teenager when I saw Randy.
Это фото немного не в фокусе, потому что у меня тряслись руки. Я чувствую себя тинэйджером, когда вижу Рэнди.
Another not-so-great photo, taken by me. Randy was concentrating on signing while half a dozen people were trying to talk to him.
Еще одно не слишком удачное фото, сделанное мной. Рэнди сосредоточен на подписывании (автографа), в то время как полдюжины человек пытаются говорить с нним.
Here's another photo of Randy with a fan. When he's talking to you or looking at you, you feel like the only person in the world.
Еще одно фото Рэнди с фанаткой. Когда он говорит с тобой или смотрит на тебя, ты чувствуешь себя единственным человеком в мире.
отчет и ревью не влезли в пост, читать в каментах (без перевода)
Показ 301 в Торонто и Q&A. 19 марта 2003
тут moveforever.diary.ru/p168707215.htm повторно постить не буду, хотя там так и недовыложены ее же фотки с мероприятия этого, сделанные до того, как прибыли Хэл и Рэнди, позже остальных, потому что были заняты на съемках
Чтение JT Leroy в Питтсбурге.
читать дальшеPictures of Randy at the JT Leroy Reading
Warhol Museum - Pittsburgh, PA
April 18, 2003
After all the glitz and media attention at the JT Leroy event in NYC the night before, it was a breath of fresh air to have a low-key evening on Friday night in Pittsburgh. Randy, who seemed to be very much at ease, read 3 separate passages from 3 separate JT Leroy stories. He was introduced as a long-time friend of the author and the enthusiasm with which he read was obvious.
In contrast to the night before, cameras were allowed in the theater, and I took advantage of that fact. I'm not a great photographer, but my close proximity to the stage (second row) made it easy to get some decent shots of Randy. I apologise for the fact that the microphone is in front of Randy's face in some of the shots, but they were too good not to share. I hope you-all enjoy the photos as much as I enjoyed getting them.
фотки здесь есть все gallery.kinnetiks.net/thumbnails.php?album=320
еще она записала там аудио, но у меня комп в нерабочем состоянии, так что... впрочем качества оно сильно не ахти.
@темы: Рэнди фото
-
-
28.12.2012 в 11:31What I Did On My Spring Vacation: a rather verbose account of our trip to NY to see Randy's play (Отчет о поездке на английском)
читать дальше
-
-
28.12.2012 в 11:32My review of 'A Letter From Ethel Kennedy'
читать дальше
-
-
28.12.2012 в 11:37-
-
28.12.2012 в 11:46Этот пост как будто новогодний подарок - неожиданный и немного из "детства" -)))
Прочла пока только подписи под фото - необыкновенная искренность и восторг:
... чувствую себя тинэйджером, когда вижу Рэнди.
... когда он говорит с тобой или смотрит на тебя, ты чувствуешь себя единственным человеком в мире.
Спасибо !
С наступающим и всех благ в Новом Году !
-
-
28.12.2012 в 13:50-
-
28.12.2012 в 14:37пожалуйста
Очень много интересной информации, собраться бы с силами и по уму перевести....
ну, авось
frosi,
пожалуйста
enika_benika, Ого! Столько информации!
ага, хватает
и на здоровье
-
-
28.12.2012 в 16:47-
-
28.12.2012 в 18:56Я вот только одного не понимаю, вот она так любила Рэнди, была в фэндоме, ездила на спектакли и все? Прошел интерес? Сейчас ничего не слышно от нее?
читать дальше
-
-
28.12.2012 в 21:22на здоровье
yurkina,
пожалуйста, очень рада, что интересно
Я вот только одного не понимаю, вот она так любила Рэнди, была в фэндоме, ездила на спектакли и все? Прошел интерес? Сейчас ничего не слышно от нее?
ну, это ж наверное естественный процесс, один из нормальных вариантов, во всяком случае... их ведь достаточно много таких, у кого прошло...
я ее "наследие" знаю по 2006-ой год включительно, а дальше (если не путаю) - уже все
про сейчас могу сказать, что она любит бейсбол)
-
-
28.12.2012 в 21:28По аналогии я лет через пять полюблю хоккей какой-нибудь
-
-
28.12.2012 в 21:40-
-
28.12.2012 в 21:57-
-
28.12.2012 в 22:02-
-
29.12.2012 в 12:54-
-
30.12.2012 в 16:14рада, юль, и пожалуйста