Reviews of (IN)STABILITY Feb 4, 2011

by Jessica

Reviews of (IN)STABILITY are just starting to come out. Check them out:

"World premiere of (IN)STABILITY: Balance, silence, noise" - Seattlest

"You Can't Make Budraitis Up" - The SunBreak

"Review: Budraitis solo show at On the Boards poses many questions but answers very few" - Seattle Times

"Review: Paul Budraitis asks us to connect to achieve (In)Stability at OTB." - Seattle Gay Scene

We'll keep updating as they're posted throughout the weekend!

TAGS
Paul Budraitis / theater

Comments

(IN)STABILITY...my after-thoughts

Good morning, Sean.So, did I tell you that I would have more to say about the show as time passed and it sank in a bit?  I was right!  It's definitely a show that gets one thinking.  And talking.  And realizing:  the human experience is so universal.  I mean, how many moments did I have last night where I thought, "I've been there"?  Walking past that person who clearly needs to be connected with, but allowing the censor in my head to keep me from connecting.  Having a full-blown relationship with someone I've only taken a look at on public transportation.  Recognizing how a "shift" can redefine a moment, or a lifetime.  There were moments last night when I felt so uncomfortable, afraid that I might be called upon to contribute an answer, which had me trying to think up the perfect answer, only to realize that no such thing exists.  There were moments when I was angry, wondering why I was being shouted at, "Should you be doing this right now?" and wondering what it was that I was doing and realizing that what I was doing was letting my thoughts drift away from the present moment and should I be drifting?  No, I should be focused, I should be ABLE to focus, it's why I refuse to get a "smart" phone because I don't want to be taken away from the present moment, and yet here I was as an audience member being taken away from the present moment by my own drifting thoughts and fears of getting things right and...isn't that what Life is all about?  Those things which distract us and bring us together, those moments of surprise, when a glimpse of a figure on a street invokes fear or lust or sadness for what never was or what will never be.  My thoughts were bouncing around throughout the show, which makes me angry as an audience member because I want to give the performers my complete attention, knowing how much they are putting into creating this experience for me.  But is it ever possible to be truly present for an hour twenty, let alone a minute twenty?  I was angry at times, I was uncomfortable at times, I was distracted at times, and I was riding on top of all of it, because I was given no choice, I was given no time to let anything sink in, I was shifted from one moment to the next to the next again before I could let my mind catch up to the experience, and it was overwhelming, and it was upsetting, and it was one of the most human experiences I've had in a long time.  We are nothing.  We are everything.  We are.  All of us.  No matter how interesting or mundane our stories may be.  They are universal.  We all long for a pure human connection, yet we are all so afraid of opening ourselves to such a connection.  Eye contact frightens us.  Direct speech antagonizes us.  We long for those shifts away from connection, those stand-up moments that allow us to catch our breath, that feel safer somehow, even when the house lights are shining on us, we layer humor into our lives as a buffer, we magnify sound to remove intimacy, and when we strip it all away, when we just sit face each other and speaking directly to one another and look into each other's eyes, we are naked.  Glaringly so.  Which is, deep down, what we long for, in so many ways.  And we run from it.I'm writing without thinking, so forgive any confusing bits.  Though, hell, you directed that piece, you helped bring in the confusion.  So I'm sure my rambling is welcome, somewhat.  And I'm not going to dare re-read and revise this shit, so it is as it is.I am always impressed with you as a director, Sean Ryan.  I don't remember the name of it, but I remember seeing a piece you directed in the Fireplace Theatre at Emerson, and I remember thinking, wow, he's a student.  I remember the Emma Goldman piece, and I was jealous that Caroline had a piece to bring to you.  I saw "Another You" at the Public in New York, I saw it only because I saw your name attached to it, and you were as much a part of that piece for me as the performer.  You have a way of bringing out the best in your actors, of daring them to believe that they are so much bigger and bolder than they dare to believe.  Last night, I was dazzled by your use of space and light and sound (and I know you had some killer designers to collaborate with, but you were all over that design, weren't you?), I was never allowed to settle in, I was always being shifted to a new rhythm, a new volume, a new tone.  That's you.  You see story-telling in a much broader way than most directors I've known, you allow the story to live in all of the elements on stage.  What you did with this show, it's beautiful.  And haunting.  And frustrating.  Which is, I think, what this show was about.  At least, that's what it was about for me.And that's it from me.  Phew!

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