executions.

[warning: there are spoilers here for the play the adding machine -running at the act theatre in seattle through this weekend- & dancer in the dark.]



ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


the death penalty.
dancer in the dark.
and most recently the adding machine.

they evoke so much grief. always disproportionate to the circumstances. and i can't explain it.

i saw the adding machine this weekend and never expected the places it would take me. halfway through the main character is electrocuted. at the top of the scene, his wife of so many harsh words comes to say good bye with a plate of ham and eggs and the first and only tenderness we see from her.

and.

almost immediately i started crying. and crying. and crying. and the tears sped up and i had to hold my breath so the sobs couldn't escape. i didn't want my neighbors {or the actors} to hear my inexplicable monsoon.

the main character, mr. zero, was dead to her already and dead even to the sudden {and sometimes conflicting} gestures of softness she offered.
but the change in her was tragic.
the knowledge of his impending death so present.
her sharp edges blurred.
a few hits of color were added.
and even the conflict about another woman evaporated the moment the men came to take her husband and she fought all the fight in her to reach him.
everything in her hurled against the guard.
to stop them.
or to touch him.
last chance.


it's the final fight for the things we love above all others where our bodies take us places we can't anticipate and even in the face of certain death, failure is not considered and the efforts are never made with an awareness of futility.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

i just just re-watched this last clip of dancer in the dark. again it's these final moments that are about the most tragic thing that i can possibly imagine. i don't think there is any movie or even personal life experience that i have cried as hard for as this last scene.

her last song:

dear gene, of course you are here
and now there's nothing to fear
oooh, i should have known
oooh, i was never alone

this isn't the last song
there is no violin
the choir is so quiet
and no one takes a spin

this is the next-to-last song
and that's all, all
remember what i have said
remember, wrap up the bread
do this, do that, make your bed

this isn't the last song
there is no violin
the choir is quiet
and no-one takes a spin
this is the next-to-last song

and that's all ...





oooooooooooo

and on the other side of this theme, is my own experience from about seven or eight years ago. simultaneously limited and infinite by its location in the dream world.

my father was being killed {the first words i wrote were: put down} by lethal injection and they had already given him the first of the two shots.
i remember the way he was strapped down.
and the colors of the leather and the table and his insane asylum uniform.
and the way he had already begun to fade.
disappearing.
slipping away.
letting go.

the dream ended before he died, but the threat/certainty/despair was not an easy one to shake. nearing a decade later and the aftertaste still lingers.


oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooX....................................................

currently listening to: floating in the fourth - frightened rabbit