The Framework Blog captures all things worth mentioning that I lay my eyes on, concerning television, films and books. When possible I will use facts and spice it with humour and fiction. That was the intention.
Now beware dear readers... for it all went hilariously wrong!
** "Offbeat hilarious!" ** "RA tingles & laughs" ** "True to the characters! " ** "The fiction is great. Keep it up!" **
"All is left is my name!! We will burn together!! I will rip your sketch!!"
Wednesday 23 July 2014 eve I went to see The Crucible play at the Old Vic.
The audience was very diverse. Gushing women were not the majority!
It was a crowd every theatre owner would have liked to see.
My preparations were appalling. Following the daily aftertweets, finding that Arthur Miller interview "it will all happen again" re. the 'fingerpointing' and me skimming John Proctor bits in the play. Decided not to read the whole text. Then lured in British media the sentiment of celebrities turning to be perverts as in: 'Can we put celebrities on a pedestal anymore?', Richard mentioning in interview that age of girl has been raised and age of JP been lowered in play. Me again wondering if fangirling was wise in the first place and whether I should spent money seeing a play abroad.
Then in Dutch media was shocking news of a plane crash with nearly 200 Dutch people dead, which swept my closely knitted nation of 17 million people (just as many as inhabitants of NYC) into mourning, anger and disbelief for the impossibility to get access to the crash site and removal of the bodies. Politicians, even worldwide, started fingerpointing to whoever was responsible for the mis*sile. The question 'Who was responsible for sending a civil aircraft across a warzone in the first place?' was not asked. It affected my anticipation of going and finding my flight rather tricky, not rationally, but from the heart. Decided to defy that sentiment and rejoice in my unique chance to see Richard in this play.
Then found myself in a gloomy theatre, with burned walls and dusty cloths hanging over the balconies, mulling in severe damps of steaming herbs and aluminium foil 'ashes' with 'a silence rising around me, an impeding and invisible wash of dulled vibrations between us, like a endless moaning musical note through which we could not hear or speak anymore, it was sadness, purely mournful, deadening'. I welled up during curtain changes of my associations with that plane crash site and was in survival mode during the play, because I did jump in a plane after all.
Then there was this burden that thousands of you could not be here with me. Therefore I wanted to keep the memory alive of this acting party Old Vic throwed with a skilled cast and crew.
Here's to sketching.
I had a shamefully good seat G13, Stalls, middle aisle, second row!!
I should add here sketch of his piercing, disapproving stare into the audience, at my height and place!
(I stared back! Might have unsettled him. Sorry, wasn't helping ye).
That was the opening scene with all the chairs.
It started with Richard standing near the front row, on the left of me, within 3 metres.
His face blocked by his upright collar. I rather see his face so I can hear him better.
He wore a dark coat and thin clothed trousers.
Proctor is listening to male villagers (Parris, Giles?).
Richard walked towards the steps and stopped within two metres of me, towering over.
He has hammer toes (sorry Richard, I wore open sandals with my Angeline Lilly feet).
Now that we are acquainted, we better carry on...
Proctor came home with a ri*fle, which was not bended for safety (that worried me).
His wife had already filled this undeep, grey basin with water - which was on the floor (not table).
Richard sighed (hope it wasn't: here we go again), sank onto his knees,
crossed his arms and pulled his dark blue/gray shirt over his head (dramatic),
then ducked like a dog to his drinking bowl. He washed his face with his hands,
his underarms in alignment with the floor.
Then came upwards and turned his chest away to his left side.
His bum was sticking out and later he repeated this 'bum-up' at the other side of the floor.
So I had a good view up his bum (was that necessary?)
This Wash happened within 3-4 metres of me. :)
OMG! Richard and a whip! This happened so fast, it must be an anger outburst.
Proctor is angry at his maid Mary Warren. He took the whip from behind one of the colons seen left.
I think he was slamming his fists on the table.
Then Proctor runs around the table and lashes the whip three times, while shouting!
Richard has enormous long legs and big feet and takes gigantic steps like
John Cleese, so I found it funny, but also impressing! (phew!)
My Mum made this sketch, to show that costumes weren't that soberly designed.
The End Kiss
After the trial, Proctor gives Elizabeth one final kiss.
A very long kiss, prolonged with grief and passion, which I could see in Richard's back.
The two kissers did a full turn, by making tiny steps in the round.
Audience members all around had a good view!
Even Hawthorpe(?) stepped aside!
(Makes me think they do read comments in tweets and reviews).
I haven't read The Crucible yet, because I wanted to upload these sketches first. I fear reading the play will trigger more images (which I will have to draw possibly).
Oh, and, ...
Despite my fangirly remarks, I found the acting truely worthwile to travel abroad!
This Wednesday evening 23rd July 2014 I saw The Crucible at Old Vic Theatre in London.
I went to see it with my 76 year old Mum, as a neutral commentator of acting and as an travel companion for my 5 day London trip. (Last time she was there was 50 years ago.)
As someone mentioned to me online, I must be aware to be very Lucky, as thousands would have loved to be in my seat. (Note to you, I would be very Lucky if only half of you would send me one pound to help me pay this trip). So I felt the burden responsibility and kept my eyes open for your sakes.
How can I help you? How can I stand out? Writing just another review with a rehassle of the same words (Miller, Salem, school assignment, intense, play in the round) is best to be avoided. Thus popped in the thought to give you impressions by drawings/sketches/jottings! Those will have to be scanned, so please come back here. Because of uploading troubles with large pictures, I will break this into more blogposts - and start with the last bit.
When in Rome, erm, when in London, we just had to do the SDE. That SD thing brings out the worst in tourists like us. Although it all went very civilised, with a security guard, if you don't show pro-active eagerness, you won't get your autogramm or picture. Mum offered to take pictures and went all papperazzi-mode and me standing ready with my signable programme and The Crucible book I bought at Harrods one hour before.
(fair use of pictures please, copyright @VioletsTFB)
(no commercial re-use of pictures without permission)
This man was genuinely surprised that we came from Holland to see this play.
I said: "It was one of the best and I've seen a lot!"
He signed my Miller book.
She signed my programme and looked me straight in the eyes
when I said "You were very evil". She thanked me.
Others just fled.
Or came over.
He knew where to sign my programme: in his text.
Tituba had to go back to Barbados, no time to sign.
Then the movie star whirled by, shadowed by his security guard.
Of 30 people, he just took 4-5 pictures and didn't even finish the line.
He never looked anyone into the eyes, so I found him under my nose.
He scribbled my programme and my Crucible book.
Did I see him slightly raise his eyebrows?
Fans looking at Mr. A.
"Did you just take a picture of me?", the girl on the left asked us.
End of SDE
I had a Dutch gift, which I handed to the guard afterwards.
He took it indoors, repeatedly saying "He already left". I said: "Tomorrow is fine."
Later I recalled to have seen a huge container indoors next to exit. He wouldn't, would he?! :O :)
So much for celebrity lifestyle then.
Then we went back to the Underground around 23hr30 to catch a train to our hotel in Bloomsbury.
You can say the SDE was handled too fast, but we were back at the hotel before 00hr00.
Last trains leave at midnight, in case you need this information.
Behind the scenes at The Framework Blog Headquarters we had a hick-up in staffing this blog. The one we gave a green card for dancing n*ked in the woods, refused to post further by lack of inspiration. We call it laziness. A woman with a respected name in posting funny scriblets, deprived you, respected citizen of RA*blah, near Sa*lem. We deny we've let it run out of hands, by letting her tweet witchedly. The defamed woman was forced to defend herself in court. Before you blame us of labelling, we are saint enough to keep this not out of the press and yet we are patronizing enough to let her hang in ashed moralities.
S T A T E M E N T
Adressed at the county folk of Ignorance, Indifference and Prejustice.
"I was shocked to notice I came under scrutiny.
People of 'our little community' starting to label me: She is not a professional RA Blogger. My initial defense:
I know where you’re getting at, but in fear of needing your consultation, I have a different journey in RL now and avoid this subject on my blog, because it could branch out into talk about ‘other fan behaviours’ or ‘ideal fan behaviour’ or defending my own ‘fan behaviour, which I’m doing now as I type and is more defined as ‘following’ and as such a nice parallel universe to be in. Sorry for not interacting as much!
‘one of them’
And another defense:
Yet, I developed one heck of a twitter addiction #RichardArmitage :D I asked my advisors for consultancy: My reps tell me I should issue a mea culpa on my blog about this subject soon… and post more functional sexy pictures of RA! Then I got back-upped by an anonimous friend: Received a comment from one ‘Anonymous’. Mentions to read about my plans. Mentions that my blog is one of the sanest. Mentions to avoid it all together. Denies I’m The One. (etc.) Then the gossip came: I saw a name I don’t know — violetsframework — and wondered “Who’s she? What’s the mea culpa about?” I pasted “violetsframework” into Google, saw it’s linked with something called “Fellowship of The Beard,” laughed my ass off and proceeded to, “Yup, she’s one of us.” Didn’t even click through. Don’t need to. Not wondering about that “mea culpa” any more. She’s a fangirl. I’m a fangirl. That’s all I need to know. Next pretty picture of RA?
Then the verdict came: Btw, Violet is one of the funniest damn people in the fandom. I wish more people knew it!!
This business of fangirl blogging is not an easy business. It's fickle and you get kicked out very easily if you don't keep up with the implied rules of it.
Fangirl version: post, re-post, blog, tumbrl, twitter, fb body and acting parts within 2 minutes. Fanboy version: talk armour and CGI. 'We' don't talk about that, so we don't know you.
Insider version: damned if they don't and damned if they do. Spill! We treat it with care.
Dubious version: go down on me, if you want to get your statistics up again. Come again?
But never, ever, ever erm, talk about (his/yours) private life. That's 90% of our conversation.
Online media storms wrecked our little community every time they came in with multiple tornadoes bashing our n*ked dances in the woods, caused by:
The weirdos witches of the Internet. They will name you!
While others noticed a shift towards accepting one-selves as 'The Others'.
Like that film with Nicole Kidman wherein a family lives in a house and discover strangers have moved in, until said family finds out that they themselves are the others (ghosts).
I can raise the alarm by saying everyone is subject of labelling, namecalling or stereotyping. If you feel you're unlike most, then you can put yourself 'under scrutiny' by 'judges ', but I promiss you, in the end you will remain a 'good (wo)man. Thank you!
The people in the fandom only know about my fangirling and that is enough for me.
We meet in different countries, at night, at day, and we use alter egos.
This fangirling is an open secret to our inner circle, but that's about it. No-one should out others, by association, discussion or gossip. You're fan policing!
It's been 4 years of blogging and about 5 years of following Mr. A's career when I will see him acting on stage in July.
I know what I am selling.
- Copycat! - Don't start me on Cats! - The musical? You know it's coming back to London, even for just 12 weeks? - TA DA! OK, but I ignore Cats, or I have to talk about my private life.
'Again this blogpost contained a lot of BS (bon sense)'. Steal from the best: RA Frenzy.
Doing my homework on The Crucible. We've read it! Feel like I am in school again. What's wrong with Armitage Studies?
P.S. I will admit my weakness for lacking to post The Hobbit review and thoughts on the Hamlet reading. The tavern scene was the best of all Thorin scenes, though he is not bad in other scenes. Was distracted by his dwarf hands, not fitting his face and posture.
The Hamlet reading, great, but my mind plays games with me and I can't listen without a visual image, thus would love to see Mr. A playing in The Crucible.
My yearly posted stats in April will be posted in next post.
And yes, I'm going. Not out of RA duty (yeah, you like that, huh?:). It's that I like good acting.
In the meantime, go to @VioletsTFB on Twitter and Violet Dutchblogger on Faceb**k.
Full title: Four Years In: Not A Professional RA Blogger.
Image: Promotion Poster of The Crucible play at The Old Vic Theatre, London