Saturday, January 8, 2011


Is my last day of being seventeen.  Tomorrow I will wake up and be a grownup.  Good lord.
Last night my darling brother and I went to see the Blue Flower at the ART.  I cried; he shushed me.  We have the perfect relationship.  But really, the play was incredible.  It starts in the Belle Époque and continues into 1955, and follows these four friends - two art students, a brilliant scientist, a cabaret singer... and then (spoilers) they all die.  Hence the crying, I guess.
Most of it took place in the Interwar period, partially in World War I, and it deals with this concept of a continent with severe PTSD.  They sing (oh yeah, it's a musical) about nightmares of gas masks under their beds, about the Weimar Republic where they planned to colour the grey and blood-soaked world of No Man's Land with new ideas and new forms of government.  They were going to get it all right this time.  Yeah.  That didn't go so well.
I love the history of WWI and the Interwar period.  I am convinced that this is because I like Virginia Woolf, but it just is heart-wrenching in a way that not much else is.  I remember reading All Quiet on the Western Front in maybe seventh grade, and then in Film last year we watched Kubrick's Paths of Glory - a film about French soldiers in the trenches.  Generally, WWI is glossed over in most history classes - in US history we spent exactly a day on WWI - but this play didn't gloss over much.  Tonight is its last night in Boston, but if you can manage to see it at some point, do so.  I promise you won't regret it.

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