Here’s a teaser. Turn up your speakers!
We have music written for the show by Emily Irvine and Joseph Littlefield, which you can hear throughout the trailer.
Long rehearsal yesterday – 14 straight hours with Zoe. Not sick of each other yet. Having a lovely Sunday off, reading the bad Sunday paper, drinking bad coffee, watching bad TV. Have been thinking about the three-year gap that would have meant not being able to produce Under Milk Wood, thanks to the Free Trade Agreement in 2005. Had it been signed in 2002, we wouldn’t have been able to experiment with Dylan Thomas’ writing until 2023 without raising considerably more funds for royalties payable to an estate.
Poster and other pics taken this past weekend.
Ah, first day of rehearsing in the theatre over. Remarkable early mark. Will post the photos we took for the poster soon. Emily Irvine has been whipping up tunes for the new incarnations of Thomas’ songs. Little projections being made of little men walking all over Zoe. Lamps between legs. Scaling ladders and scrambling in straight-jackets.
illustrating milk wood….
much more to come but if you would like to ‘see’ milkwood (and buy your own little slice of llareggubiness) come along to the Addison rd open day on May 16….or to the Eveleigh Artisans market down at Carriageworks on June 6.
So all 89 pages of Under Milk Wood are sloshing about in my head. In order to make room for them I have pushed out all the American state capitals, your name and my immune system. Now the great challenge of making everyone of those glorious characters lovely, in a three dimensional, ‘gosh, that mean lady is so different to the other mean lady’ way begins. I’m equally excited, terrified and manic.
So last week, Zoe came up to the mountains house to learn lines for three days straight. After waking up a couple of times, both of us dreaming of nothing but milk wood words, she’s pretty much got it down.
Down at Mini Ha Ha:
The Reverend Eli Jenkins, busy on his morning calls, stops outside the Welfare Hall to hear Polly Garter as she scrubs the floors for the Mothers’ Union Dance to-night.
Listen to the audio:
http://www.vanessainminiature.com/projectwords/audio/pollyscrubs.mp3
Fishermen grumble to their nets. Nogood Boyo goes out in the dinghy _Zanzibar_, ships the oars, drifts slowly in the dab-filled bay, and, lying on his back in the unbaled water, among crabs’ legs and tangled lines, looks up at the spring sky.
NOGOOD BOYO (Softly, lazily)
I don’t know who’s up there and I don’t care.
Listen to the audio:
http://www.vanessainminiature.com/projectwords/audio/fishing.mp3
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