April 2nd, 2007
Why is this blog item different from every other blog item?
Well, first of all, I'm writing it at the home of our friends the Millers, who are about to serve a sumptuous Passover feast.
Also, their computer (which I'm working on now) has one of those wiggly, ergonomically correct keyboards -- which is kind of freaking me out: it's like trying to type while your hands are drunk (possibly from Manischewitz).
And finally, in honor of my people's historic exodus, I am trying to make this item entirely leavening-free.
So here goes:
Tonight's show (at 7:30) features an interview with one of my favorite actors, Delroy Lindo, whose work I admired long before I learned that he lives here in the Bay Area. Lindo's intensity and intelligence always come through, even in monosyllabic action films, though where he really gets to shine is in movies of substance -- like The Cider House Rules, Malcolm X, or (most recently) the delightful dramedy Wondrous Oblivion. After a childhood in England and Canada, he received his acting training at A.C.T. in San Francisco, and eventually gained prominence with Broadway roles in "Master Harold" ... and the Boys and Joe Turner's Come and Gone.
Now he's directing -- and in our neck of the woods, too! His production of Tanya Barfield's powerful, complex play Blue Door begins previews at the Berkeley Rep on Friday and opens on April 11. (I wasn't looking at the computer screen as I was typing that last bit, and on this wiggly keyboard it initially came out as "'k'gsd fl;kg'ks dflgskz 'z'''''k"!) Based on my reading of the script, I'm anticipating that Blue Door -- a multi-generational meditation on history and identity, performed by only two actors -- will be quite a tour de force. If you go catch it at the Rep, maybe I'll see you there!
For now, however, I'm going to start heading toward the Passover table. There's a gefilte fish coming this way with a mean glint in his eye, and I'd better take care of this situation before it gets out of hand. ...
Entry Filed under: tv episodes