When we first started getting hanging out together and then started dating, Jeff and I saw some concerts, musicals, and a lot of films. More recently, though, I’d been feeling guilty because I felt like my schedule–hospital visits, home visits, work–had been preventing us from going out at all. But we seem to be getting back into a bit of a cultural groove.
After having planned earlier to see Arena Stage’s production of Shakespeare in Hollywood, circumstances seemed to make it unlikely. Last Friday, however, on a somewhat spur-of-the-minute decision earlier in the day to purchase same-day half-price tickets, we had dinner on the waterfront and then saw the play, which I found very funny and enjoyable. I was surprised to overhear a 20- or 30-something man after the performance say that it “the most ribald play he’d ever seen.” Since I found the sexual humor in the play no more bawdy than Shakespeare’s own work, I found myself wondering if the young man’s previous cultural experience had peaked with Disney on Ice.
And tonight we have tickets to Ballet Boyz, a very intriguing-sounding troupe from the George Piper Dances dance company out of London, principally comprised of two male dancers formerly with the Royal Ballet.
Should be fun. As the Washington Post notes:
When they fly into Washington Tuesday for their area debut at Lisner Auditorium under the auspices of the Washington Performing Arts Society, Trevitt and Nunn will have video cameras in tow. For along with their envelope-pushing program choices–which include William Forsythe’s tensile “Steptext,” British choreographer Russell Maliphant’s male duet “Torsion” and New York City Ballet resident choreographer Christopher Wheeldon’s contemporary yet classical “Mesmerics”–the two also have a knack for filmmaking. They carry cameras everywhere on tour, in rehearsal, in airports and restaurants, making short films that they intersperse between the performed pieces. These video diaries might offer a glimpse of rehearsal, of life backstage, of their idiosyncratic impressions of living on the road or, as Trevitt, 34, says with a hint of wink, “a night out with the showgirls in D.C.”