Dress the Dress: After & During Big Dance Theater

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I attended the dress rehearsal of Big Dance Theater’s new production, Alan Smithee Directed This Play: Triple Feature at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. This is some of what happened to me and some of what I heard, as written only while in the Harvey Theater, for 80 minutes of a Tuesday afternoon:

It takes a lot of trust to get into someone’s trunk

Now we’re in the field

Meredith Monk: No

The red dirt roads

The table: yes, Wooster Group everywhere

The hand writing moors us to things

1950s colors

Listen, Emma, you don’t know the first thing about me

Faulkner, Paul & the Russians

It’s always quiet, it’s always dark

I just want a piece of the action

I just want not to go upstairs

Don’t follow me

We all want to make fun of the astronaut lady

It’s just so strange

The sinews on the too-thin arm

The fur that shows off its age by becoming fake

Yes, you’re the poet

No, I am

The glass-plate window                 The stand-off

The body pulled taut

Yes, the signal is busy

Yes, the director looks like hell

The private life, the death

All those colors: what my grandmother kept in her forever closets

Face plant on the table

Beach whale yourself, you fucker

Sorry. Look. I get a little overheated

I have to write a novel next month

No, I mean the month after next

Sticks & more sticks


My bones hurt

My words break

We run down the hill together

Yes, Jill.

These days I put my kerchief on too fast

The scene changes bedevil me

I look after you & all you can think is to paint your toenails red

This is war

This is globalization

Bring me my magazine

As for you — it’s time to water the houseplants

Look out the window//the view from up here…

It’s the whole city, glittering in the movies


European future

You can’t beat the soundtrack

We should be ashamed

but we are not

We are not

Ritual catches us out at the bar

The fake grass so green

The looters leaving not even the hoop earrings in the dead woman’s ear

Go look

Even now she’s in the elevator

The cocktail lounge empty at night

Shaken or stirred?

The hotel guests find themselves again on the parquet floor

How do you propose to live?

The question gets less important every day

(but still it’s so beautiful)

I want something to hold

Keep the ringer off

Darling, again                        save me that last waltz

Where I’m going it’s a long way

by train

by night

Don’t wait up for me

My palm already is against your cheek

You women have it so hard

I don’t know how much I’m going to miss you

I’ll be gone soon enough myself.

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