Tuesday, December 13, 2011
A first night and a funeral
I went to a funeral today. Annie Garven was an old friend of Susie's, fiercely feminist in those early days but a good friend to me too. Passionate and kind, a hugely intelligent individual it was always a pleasure to be with.
She died suddenly, falling down a tenement stair: someone I wanted to get to know better again and see more of,.
But didn't. And now it's too late.
So I at least wanted to be there to say farewell.
It was a beautiful service.
Her beautiful sister Jane had gone to the Poetry Library to choose a poem, and chose Jackie Kay''s profoundly moving "Fiere Good Nicht".
On the way, she happened to meet Jackie Kay herself. She went up to her and explained what she was doing and Jackie Kay very generously agreed to record herself reading the poem for the ceremony.
A beautiful poem. A lovely gesture. A piece of magic serendipity of a kind I always associated with Annie herself.
She had that kind of magic to her.
And the Loud and Proud choir she belonged to sang a beautiful arrangement of Tennyson's "crossing the bar" which made me weep but brought me comfort at the same time, and also David Paul Jones exquisite arrangement of "Auld Lang Syne", using the original words ("for auld Lang syne my jo") which Susie loved and always insisted we sing correctly, and I loved her for that, so she was there at the funeral too.
Afterwards I walked down the beautiful old railway path close by under the gentle winter sunshine and found myself loving life.
Loving life in all it's beauty and sorrow.
Which somehow helped put into perspective all the intensity of the first night of TREE OF KNOWLEDGE and the reviews which have started coming out, and are good, but not as good as I would like them to be.
So I discover, yet again, that my appetite for praise is disconcertingly limitless, and resolve, yet again, to take no notice of reviews which I know perfectly well, yet again, are really not helpful for me to read.
But which I know, yet again, I will read anyway.
None of which makes any difference to my fierce pride in the play.
She died suddenly, falling down a tenement stair: someone I wanted to get to know better again and see more of,.
But didn't. And now it's too late.
So I at least wanted to be there to say farewell.
It was a beautiful service.
Her beautiful sister Jane had gone to the Poetry Library to choose a poem, and chose Jackie Kay''s profoundly moving "Fiere Good Nicht".
On the way, she happened to meet Jackie Kay herself. She went up to her and explained what she was doing and Jackie Kay very generously agreed to record herself reading the poem for the ceremony.
A beautiful poem. A lovely gesture. A piece of magic serendipity of a kind I always associated with Annie herself.
She had that kind of magic to her.
And the Loud and Proud choir she belonged to sang a beautiful arrangement of Tennyson's "crossing the bar" which made me weep but brought me comfort at the same time, and also David Paul Jones exquisite arrangement of "Auld Lang Syne", using the original words ("for auld Lang syne my jo") which Susie loved and always insisted we sing correctly, and I loved her for that, so she was there at the funeral too.
Afterwards I walked down the beautiful old railway path close by under the gentle winter sunshine and found myself loving life.
Loving life in all it's beauty and sorrow.
Which somehow helped put into perspective all the intensity of the first night of TREE OF KNOWLEDGE and the reviews which have started coming out, and are good, but not as good as I would like them to be.
So I discover, yet again, that my appetite for praise is disconcertingly limitless, and resolve, yet again, to take no notice of reviews which I know perfectly well, yet again, are really not helpful for me to read.
But which I know, yet again, I will read anyway.
None of which makes any difference to my fierce pride in the play.
Labels: funeral, pride, reviews
Friday, March 26, 2010
My plan today was to think about reviews.
But I'm tired.
I did the final revision of the script, sent it off to my agent, and to someone who might possibly translate the play into Japanese, gave each cast member a copy of the published text (Nick Hern Books) saw the show, had some lovely conversations afterwards.
And now I'm tired.
So what I have to say about reviews must wait.
And there are so many of them!
Not just the press, but the online ones, too.
It's sad that so many of the online ones mimic the worst aspect of traditional press one - written in haste, without giving themselves the time and the space to think in depth, and - worst of all - aping the ridiculous and arbitrary star rating system.
But the whole point of writing online in that it gives you the opportunity to do something different.
I stumbled across one that does:
http://glasgowtheatre.blogspot.com/2010/03/every-one.html
and I would commend it.
The remarkable thing about this show, though, has been that I have received so much positive response from all kinds of different sources.
Sometimes from people writing out of the blue.
Like this one:
"Dear Jo Clifford,
I work at Samuel French's Theatre Bookshop and I read your play Every One today. I was just contacting you really to say thank you very much for writing such a great and moving play. I read the new plays when they come in because I like to know what we have in the shop but yours is the only one I have read that has provoked any kind of reaction in me or moved me so much.
I have only read the play so have not had the fortune of seeing it performed so can only imagine the staging and impact it must have.
After reading it I just felt I had to contact you, it had that much of an effect on me.
So once again, thank you "
That means more than all the five star reviews in the world.
But I'm tired.
I did the final revision of the script, sent it off to my agent, and to someone who might possibly translate the play into Japanese, gave each cast member a copy of the published text (Nick Hern Books) saw the show, had some lovely conversations afterwards.
And now I'm tired.
So what I have to say about reviews must wait.
And there are so many of them!
Not just the press, but the online ones, too.
It's sad that so many of the online ones mimic the worst aspect of traditional press one - written in haste, without giving themselves the time and the space to think in depth, and - worst of all - aping the ridiculous and arbitrary star rating system.
But the whole point of writing online in that it gives you the opportunity to do something different.
I stumbled across one that does:
http://glasgowtheatre.blogspot.com/2010/03/every-one.html
and I would commend it.
The remarkable thing about this show, though, has been that I have received so much positive response from all kinds of different sources.
Sometimes from people writing out of the blue.
Like this one:
"Dear Jo Clifford,
I work at Samuel French's Theatre Bookshop and I read your play Every One today. I was just contacting you really to say thank you very much for writing such a great and moving play. I read the new plays when they come in because I like to know what we have in the shop but yours is the only one I have read that has provoked any kind of reaction in me or moved me so much.
I have only read the play so have not had the fortune of seeing it performed so can only imagine the staging and impact it must have.
After reading it I just felt I had to contact you, it had that much of an effect on me.
So once again, thank you "
That means more than all the five star reviews in the world.
Labels: reviews
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