Theatre Review: Happy Days

 The Play: Happy Days by Samuel Beckett

Who's putting this on? The Melbourne Theatre Company

Where? The Southbank Theatre, Southbank

Until: 10 June

Stars: 4 (with a caveat or three). 

Happy Days is a polarising play. 

Samuel Beckett is a polarising playwright. 

Judith Lucy is a polarising performer. 

And because of these statements, you're either going to love this or hate it. 

Oncoming out of tonight's performance, Jay said she found it to be a heap of pretentious tosh. 

I was far more complimentary, but I was prepared going into the play. Jay was not. I'm an English Major with a decent working knowledge of Absurdist Theatre. I'm versed in the works of Samuel Beckett. I've read Beckett's muse, Billy Whitelaw's autobiography, who spends a couple of chapters on this, one of her most famous roles. And I have read, and adored Claire Thomas's The Performance, which is a book which is based around this very play. (A book I highly recommend.)

What do they say about being forewarned is being forearmed? 

I'm glad I was prepared. It greatly heightened my appreciation for the play.

I also remember booking this play talking to another friend who was also sorting out her MTC subscription. This play didn't make her short list. She doesn't like Judith Lucy. 

If you're coming to see Judith Lucy, the comedian, you're not going to find her. 

Also, if you're coming to see a play with a cohesive story, you're not going to find that either. 

What you are going to get is an hour and a half of a middle-aged woman buried up to the chest, talking about her day in no real order, not really saying much - yet saying everything. Winnie (Lucy) is the eternal optimist, despite her predicament. Next to her, she has a bag, in which she has an umbrella, a mirror, a lipstick, a hat and the ominous gun (Was it Chekhov or Ibsen who said if there is a gun on the wall at the start of Act One, it has to go off near the end? It was Chekhov). 

Winnie is married to Willie (Hayden Spencer), of whom we (thankfully) see very little. He has very little to do other than be a useless, and menacing presence in the background, being of no aid to Winnie, who by the end of the play, is buried up to her neck. 

Petra Kalive's direction is firm and assured. Beckett is not easy at the best of times, and she has done a fantastic job ensuring this keeps moving towards the play's crescendo. The set looks like a big ant hill, but that's what's so effective about it. 

And Samuel Beckett's words, written over sixty years ago, are still pertinent and haunting, as Winnie contemplates live, the universe and everything from her chokehold, unable to move, or run. All she can do is sing, or scream - and you wonder about the gun. 

The set of Happy Days, pre-show. 

For me, the standout was Judith Lucy's portrayal of Winnie. It was finely nuanced. From my seat eight rows from the front, I could see every minute detail of her face. She was excellent in this - a real breakway from her comedy persona. She commanded the stage and the script. What she's achieved in this is pretty wonderful. That we're the same age is a little disconcerting. 

This certainly is not a play for everybody. I appreciated the stagecraft, the performance and Beckett's incredibly pertinent and affecting words. But I wouldn't expect many to agree with me. 

(And if you do see this, I highly recommend getting hold of a copy of Claire Thomas' The Performance. It will make you consider the play in a number of other ways.)

Today's song:

Boiled Eggs

 Learned something this week, thanks to one of my favourite TicTokkers. 

Yes, you can learn something by watching TicTok, and I mean, these people start to become your friends when you're home along a lot. 

So, I see a lot of reels from this woman called Miriam. She's an Orthodox Jew who live in New York, a midwife, with a husband and five kids, and she talks about her life and her faith in a gloriously unjudgmental way. I find her interesting. I also like the young British trainspotter, Francis Bourgeois, The Irish Click Click Clapper, Damien Broderick and Josh Godfrey. 

Anyway, Miriam gave out a hack to do with hard boiled eggs, and how to make them easier to peel. 

You know how hard hard-boiled eggs can be to peel. According to Miriam, if you take your eggs, pick them up, get a teaspoon, then give them a soft tap on the point end - tap them until the egg makes a clicking sound. You don't want to break the egg, but you need to hear this click. Once the egg clicks, then boil it up as normal. 

I tried this egg tapping thing. It works.

Trying to find Miriam on YouTube doing the egg tapping thing didn't happen, but I did find another way to shell eggs. You can blow the hard boiled eggs out of their shells. Like this woman.'

The only thing is it doesn't appear to be that hygienic. 

I tried this too. And yes, it works. But I had boiled eggs with my lunch. Wouldn't serve them to anybody else if they were shelled in this way. 

The things you learn on the internet.

Today's song: 

Twelve

 After eight years training with Cleo, Jay and I passed the banner over to Saxon tonight.

New trainer, new regime. 

And okay, he's twelve. He's not really twelve, but when you're training two women old enough to be your Mum (and nearly old enough to be your Nana), we think he looks 12. And he's got the giggle of a twelve-year-old, which is sort of endearing. So, I think I'll be referring to him by his new blog name of Twelve. Besides, Saxon is the name of a hipster. 

But he's trainable, like all good kids. And we like that. It's sort of like when you obtain a new puppy. Both sides need to show their boundaries. 

He's learning what we want in a trainer. Our first ask is to keep us moving at all times. Treat us like a hyperactive five-year-old. Tire us out without breaking us. That's want we want. 

"We're stronger and tougher than you think we are," we told him. 

He tells us to do leg presses - and the other one can rest. The one resting will be doing body weight squats, without being told. To keep moving. 

We did seated rows. An extra weight was added each round of 12. He said ten reps, but we're used to doing twelve. 

We told him repeatedly that we either do twelve or fifteen reps. Not ten. It's twelve. 

He kept asking how many more reps could we do after a round.

"Lots," we said with a smile. 

Chest presses with the dumbbells were next. Again, we were told the one not doing the reps could rest. Nah. We found a barbell and did some light bicep curls. And he amped up the weights, because we could still do more. 

"We're not tiring ours chests," was our retort, "May as well work the arms."

After this, hamstring curls, on a machine we've not used in years. Again, instead of resting, the other did tricep dips.

"Gotta even up the arms."

"You two are machines," he told us.

"Yep. Don't forget it. "

A round of abs. One armed Farmer's Walks for Jay, weighted Dead Bugs for me.

And we were done. 

It's cool working out with somebody new. I love surprising people. 

It's also validating to know that we're stronger and fitter than we think we are. 

I look forward to kicking some fitness goals. 

Onwards, I say. 

Today's song:

The Plan

The appointment was made early in the day. Before work. Get it over and done with. Well, that was the theory. 

I got up on time, fed the cat, showered, dressed and was out the door by 7.45. 

The appointment was made for 8 a.m. 

There's something about knowing that you're going to end up a wreck when you go into an appointment. Accepting that I need a mental health plan has been a big deal, not that there is any stigma in asking for help, nor seeking it. 

I'm very thankful I've got a doctor I like and trust. 

I arrived on time. A few minutes later she called me in. And after a few checks and questions about how other things are going - blood pressure (coming down), if the sleeping tablets she gave me for my Darwin trips didn't make me sleepwalk (No - all good), and a chat about the dietician (who I can claim a few sessions with Medicare - yay), we got on with the appointment at hand. 

The Mental Health Plan. 

What got me most was that it's been nearly 20 years since I last sought treatment for my mental health. It still feels like it was last year.  That time round, it was intensive hypnotherapy. My therapist at the time was brilliant, and thorough, and he helped set me on my way. He instilled me with a lot of tools to manage the depression patches that come round once or twice a year. The trick, for me, is to acknowledge them, then take a lot of care of myself and I tend to turn around pretty quickly. 

This time, it's different. It's not depression that's kicking me, but anxiety. 

So, we had a good chat about things. 

She was kind. She listened. 

See, this is the thing about being a high-functioning woman, you know how to mask the symptoms - I've been doing this for thirty years. The fact that I've had difficulty getting into a pump class because the number of people and the loud music get to me. That I'm waking up at 2 in the morning and panicking about all sorts of things that I have little control over is not usual but has thankfully abated a bit thanks to lavender oil and melatonin. That I've been avoiding going out. That the mix the naturopath gives me for my blood pressure is full of herbs to treat anxiety and that works better than any medication she gives me.... It's all adding up. 

This is on top of the childhood trauma which, though dealt with in the last session of therapy has come back to haunt me. 

And did I mention my father died at 55? Intellectually I know I have none of the same medical issues he had going on. I know my grandmother lived to 104.  But on a strange and deep level, this too is kicking at my soul. 

Oh yes, and there's a good possibility I fall into the realms of the ADHD spectrum. 

So yeah, I'm currently one big existential crisis who's just keeping my head above water. 

At least I'm still functioning. Better to embark on this journey when you're not a foetal-positioned puddle on the floor. 

We filled in the forms. Went through the motions. Most things are fine. Some things are not. Concentration is fleeting. See, shiny thing... My moods are up and down. Sleep has been problematic. There are occasional dark thoughts, not that I'd act on them, but you have to admit to having them now and then. More a what's the point question rather than an 'I'm over it' statement. 

She asked about support and family. Well, they're over in Adelaide. I talk to my mother once a week, my sisters ever few months (though we see each other on Facebook.) It's always been like that. 

A partner? No. Never had one. She raised an eyebrow, knowing my gynae history. I see people. I go out with people. I've had lovers. But they're not the people you do the food shopping with, or get a mortgage with, or who are obligated to pick you up from the hospital and love your cat with a fervour that matches your own. 

Friends. Yes, I have them too, but I don't want to worry them with this stuff. They have their own families and lives. It wrecks me to have to ask friends to mind my cat when I'm away. I've always been hyper-independent. It's conditioning from a very young age. (And another ADHD trait.)

We've decided to go the psychologist route first, get an assessment, while being open to seeing a psychiatrist if the need requires. 

I left 45 minutes later with the mental health plan in my bag and a list of psychology practices to look into to find somebody to help me through this.

I acted on my first impulse and rather than go straight home I went and got a coffee. I then bought two donuts, because if you've just exposed yourself in such a way, you can find some solace in a donut. Self-soothing through food. See, I recognised it, and acted.  There is something calming about the mixture of sugar and fat. 

Next thing, over lunchtime, I started looking into the psychologists' websites and immediately became overwhelmed. It felt a bit like Tinder for shrinks. 

A few email queries were sent, and I'm aware it could take a few weeks to get into see somebody. But it's a start. Baby steps. 

And in the meantime, I'm concentrating on being kind to myself. This probably won't be a quick fix. There's work to be done. 

Onwards, I say. 

Today's song:

Would anybody like a cat?

I wish I could talk cat. 

I don't get them at all.

There's a bit to unpack in his behaviour today. 

I worked from home, so there was no guilt trip which I likes to lay on when he realises that I'm going to the office. 

At 9 a.m. I was sitting down at my computer, about to start work. 

He starts baying at my knee. 

I give him a couple of treats. He's been fed, so he shouldn't need too many. But he keeps coming back for more. 

I try playing with him for a couple of minutes. He loves his stick and ribbons and jumping all over the place. 

He keeps coming back for more. 

There's the Monday team meeting. He attends. He says goodbye by sticking his arse in the camera. 

This went on until midday, when I opened the door to the spare room and let him at it. 

15 minutes later he was asleep in the reading chair, curled up in a ball. 

Seriously, cats! Who'd have 'em?

Tonight, we went back into battle mode over who has rights to my office chair. 

Seriously, I love this critter. I think he doesn't mind me. But God he's a pain some days. 

Today's song:

Movie Review: Gaurdians of the Galaxy Volume III

 Movie Number 22 of 2023

The Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Volume III

The Cinema: Hoyts Victoria Gardens

Stars: 4

Hand on heart, my favourite Marvel creations are the Guardians of the Galaxy. They're fun, they're funny, their quirky and they are a family, and there's a lot of action - what more could you want in a film? 

Well, Guardians of the Galaxy Volume III does not disappoint - but it's a bit different to the other two films. 

Firstly, it's a bit more heartfelt. It's also a little bit darker. 

I won't be putting spoilers in this review, but will mention some activities from the other two films.

At the end of the second film, we see the Golden People being lead by Ayesha (Elizabeth Debicki) being rather angry that the Guardians defeated them. So, it's payback time. Ayesha sends her son, Adam Warlock (Will Poulter playing the ultimate Mummy's boy) to fix some things. He's just a bit dangerous.

Compounding this, a new baddie, The High Evolutionary (played masterfully by Chukwudi Iwuji) who wants to get his hands on Rocket Racoon (voiced by Bradley Cooper). Rocket, it comes to pass, was one of the High Evolutionary's creations, and we get a lot of the back story of this over the film. 

And then there's dear old Starlord , or Peter Quill (Chris Pratt) to his mates. He's still mourning the loss of Gamora (Zoe Saldana) from when Thanos killed her in Avengers: Infinity Wars, however, Gamora has come back, but remembers nothing of their relationship. Her sister, Nebula (Karen Gillen), seems to be doing a bit better, holding the fort and keeping Drax (Dave Bautista), Groot (voiced by Vin Diesel) and Mantis (Pom Klementieff). Oh, and Kraglin (Sean Gunn) is back, still trying to master Yondu's whistling arrow. 

If you haven't seen the first two films this won't make sense, however, I went along with Barney, the Units and Teddie. Teddie hasn't seen the first two films and she really enjoyed it. As for the Units, they gave the film an eight out of ten, which for two grunting thirteen-year-olds is pretty goood. 

So, that's the starting point. As with all Guardians of the Galaxy films there's a lot of action - lots and lots of action. What this one has above and beyond is a heart-rending back story, as we find out just how Rocket became Rocket. I loved this bit. It's touching - so touching that this comes with a take some tissues warning. Then again, I cried when Yondu died. 

James Gunn's writing and direction are spot on as always. And, of course, the music is great, but they've graduated from the seventies and moved on to the nineties and naughties music. And yes, Starlord's walkman is still around, but we see the emergence of the iPod too. 

And lastly, there are some fabulous cameos in this. Some of them, if you blink, you'll miss them - link Kevin Bacon and Sylvester Stallone, but they are there. 

I'm a Marvel nut and I love Guardians of the Galaxy part three. I now have to get Teddie around so she can catch up and see the others. 

This is great fun, with a heart. 

Today's song: 

Sunday Stealing: Songs

 It's Coronation Night, and because of this I've got the telecast playing in the background. King Charles is our Head of State, rightly or wrongly (I blame John Howard for this. We might be a republic if it wasn't for his arsing around. ). The British do pomp and circumstance very well - although I doubt I'm going to have to wait another lifetime to see another coronation. At 74, we'll be lucky to get 20 years out of him. 

A pot of pumpkin, sweet potato and chick pea soup is cooking on the stove. Yes, Americans. Pumpkin and sweet potatoes make a decent savoury dish. And to the Brits reading this, no, pumpkin is not just food for pigs. 

Anyway, on with the questions, brought to you by Bev at Sunday Stealing. 

1. A song with a food name.

Peaches, by The Presidents of the United States. This is a great song to sing badly. 

This is not to be confused with the artist, Peaches song F*ck the Pain Away - which I like a lot too. But that is not about food. 

2.  A song with an animal in it

Little Lion Man by Mumford and sons. I love this song. It reminds me of a friend who's learning the banjo. But it's just a great song. 

3.  A song about a bird

Blackbird by The Beatles. Is there any better Beatles song? This is up there. Off the White Album. 

4.  A song about a dog

Black Dog by Led Zeppelin.  Not that this is about a dog, but it has the word Dog in the title. 

5. A song mentioning a cat.

There are far too many songs mentioning cats, but I love this one by Elton John. I mean, what do they mean about a Honky Cat? Does it smell?

6. A song listing a character from Wizard of Oz.

Oh, a hard one. But we have this song about a Lion... which gets stuck in your head. You can thank me later. Wimohweh...  No self-respecting lion would sleep through this. 

7. A late night driving song. 

If I'm driving late at night I try and listen to something a bit edgy and loud with a beat. Something I can sing along to.  The Pixies are great or late night drives, as are The Pogues and AC/DC. And remember, Shane McGowan is still alive somehow. Must have the same genes as Keith Richards from The Rolling Stones. 

8.  A song from a movie

I watched The Breakfast Club a few weeks ago. You can't hear this song without thinking about the film. This was a hard choice for me. I could have put the whole of the soundtrack to Grosse Point Blank in here. Love both of these films. (Simple Minds, Don't You Forget About Me).

9. A guilty pleasure song

Please don't tell anybody I love this song. Love, love, love it. I have fond memories of rolling into Apollo Bay in a convertible with this blaring over the radio. (The Blood Hound Gang - The Discovery Channel Song).

10. A song about friends

There's so many songs about friends to choose from. But I like this one. (Bill Withers, Lean on Me)

11. A song that is about summertime

This song might not be about summer per se, but if I think of a song about Summer, this is it. It reminds me of the beach, playing beach cricket and swimming at Silver Sands beach. It's a very Australian song.  (Dragon, April Sun in Cuba).

12. A song that needs to be played more on the radio

We have a radio station at our local Coles Supermarket, which plays all sorts of amazing songs while you do your shopping. You often see people singing along. I would love to hear this over Coles Radio. It would be funny. IYKYK.  Here's a link to the Wikipedia page. Look at the section marked "Call and Response. You are Australian if you do not do this, they might take your passport away. It's in our genes. Here's a link to what happens live. Any self-respecting Australian has to sing the call and response. As I said, it's genetic. (The Angels, Am I Ever Going to See Your Face Again).

13.  A song about drugs or alcohol

This is my ringtone. Not many people know that this is about Anthony Keidis' struggles. (Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Under the Bridge).

14. A song you would sing at karaoke

I don't think I'd ever sing karaoke again, but I'd probably do something like this - because it's short. And nobody knows the lyrics anyway. :)  (Blur, Song 2)

15. A song from year you were born in

I never knew this came out in 1968 - well the original did. Gotta love her. (Aretha Franklin, Think)

Today's song: