ashland day 4

This day we had no matinee to attend. Though we had tried to book one, it turned out that the only ones playing were things we had already seen. So we spent the day slightly differently. First we went for breakfast at Morning Glory, a breakfast/lunch house on Siskeyou Boulevard, and then Nico walked back to the motel (about the length of the walk from Southern Oregon University into town) while Philip and David went on into town so David could do some shopping. They ended up driving to Medford, which has a mall, where David the digital camera fiend bought more stuff for the camera. When they came back I (this is Nico writing) was preparing to wash clothes in the motel laundry and to go for a swim in the pool, as the day, while not as hot as Wednesday, was bright and sunny and definitely swimmable. So we did that; I swam, the clothes tumbled, and David sat under a poolside umbrella as he didn't bring a bathing suit ("I didn't think I would be swimming in Oregon..."). Philip made reservations at a French restaurant to mark our last night in Ashland, and at 6:15 we left for town.

The restaurant was called Monet, named after the French impressionist artist and it is located up the hill behind Odus Magoo's not far from the theatres. It is inhabited and run by a real French chef and his American wife, who is the maitresse d' and who seemed to be training almost all of the servers (who while very pleasant were a little fumbly). The walls were covered with Monet reproductions and the dining room was very pleasant. David sat and took pictures and audio files throughout the dinner. When the maitresse came by to tell us about the specials, which she did very well, as though she had learned a monologue and performed it afresh for each new customer, he took several pictures of Philip and me to get clips of the monologue. When his food arrived, which was as appetizing to the eye as it was to the palate (I should be a food critic) he took arial shots of each course. He took shots of Philip and me through his water glass (the result was as impressionistic as Monet's paintings). As we walked over the the theatre he took pictures of trees, flowers, houses.

Thursday - Day Four This day we had no matinee to attend. Though we had tried to book one, it turned out that the only ones playing were things we had already seen. So we spent the day slightly differently. First we went for breakfast at Morning Glory, a breakfast/lunch house on Siskeyou Boulevard, and then Nico walked back to the motel (about the length of the walk from Southern Oregon University into town) while Philip and David went on into town so David could do some shopping. They ended up driving to Medford, which has a mall, where David the digital camera fiend bought more stuff for the camera. When they came back I (this is Nico writing) was preparing to wash clothes in the motel laundry and to go for a swim in the pool, as the day, while not as hot as Wednesday, was bright and sunny and definitely swimmable. So we did that; I swam, the clothes tumbled, and David sat under a poolside umbrella as he didn't bring a bathing suit ("I didn't think I would be swimming in Oregon..."). Philip made reservations at a French restaurant to mark our last night in Ashland, and at 6:15 we left for town. The restaurant was called Monet, named after the French impressionist artist and it is located up the hill behind Odus Magoo's not far from the theatres. It is inhabited and run by a real French chef and his American wife, who is the maitresse d' and who seemed to be training almost all of the servers (who while very pleasant were a little fumbly). The walls were covered with Monet reproductions and the dining room was very pleasant. David sat and took pictures and audio files throughout the dinner. When the maitresse came by to tell us about the specials, which she did very well, as though she had learned a monologue and performed it afresh for each new customer, he took several pictures of Philip and me to get clips of the monologue. When his food arrived, which was as appetizing to the eye as it was to the palate (I should be a food critic) he took arial shots of each course. He took shots of Philip and me through his water glass (the result was as impressionistic as Monet's paintings). As we walked over the the theatre he took pictures of trees, flowers, houses.
Philip's brother David - a rare photograph!	Nico & Philip at Monet
David's dessert	Nico a la Monet - photograph by DJ Burrows
Henry V was enough however to curb any instincts for thespionage. Though it was slow to catch at the beginning (it is the last in a cycle of four plays, the first three of which I studied at university but), by the second scene we were hooked. This was David's first Oregon Shakespeare, and our fifth. The cast was huge, naturally, and included many people we have seen onstage before - such as the man who played Ezra Pound in 'Sailing to Byzantium' as Henry, the man who played the Snake in 'School for Scandal', the one who played the Waterseller in 'The Good Person' (he really got a workout this week, as he was one of the understudies in 'Force of Nature') and the woman, Robin Goodrin Nordli, who was in 'A School for Scandal' and 'Uncle Vanya', and who conducted the workshop for Pearson in 1998, and who played the leads in both 'Tongue of a Bird' and 'Rosmerholm'. She played both the Chorus and a Boy in this play. Henry V is about battle and politics, not about love or magic or tragedy or deceit, and so it was less fanciful in production than most of the Shakespeares we've seen at the festival, more action-oriented. Nevertheless it left us both satisfied and enthralled. The staging was functional, reminding me (though in much grander fashion, as it was in the Bowmer) of the staging in 'Measure for Measure', using scaffolding and drops for scenery. The entire height of the theatre was used, with steel platforms several metres high, where certain characters would stand, either symbolically while the Chorus spoke, or as observers of the action below. The battles were performed in alternating slow motion action and tableaux, far upstage, in front of mirrors, so that the ranks of soldiers doubled. When one man died he used the Shakespearean device of red cloths balled up in a hand and released at the appropriate time. At one point the Boy is killed. The actress, whose identity by now as Chorus/Boy is a little muddled, walks downstage backwards feeding out a long red cloth that spreads out and runs much as the bloths of fabric did in Pericles. Most affecting. David was, in short, blown away. Tomorrow we get up and head to San Francisco.

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Thursday - Day Four