Word: awkwardness
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Peter Weil's production of this play at the Ex is an outstanding job, easily the equal of the best Loeb mainstage production this year. The text is difficult to handle with its superabundance of scientific and psychological material, and the translation is at least awkward in many instances. Weil's success in evident in the continuity of which distinguish the play. Careful and demanding directing is manifest in the scenes with the main characters, the father, his wife Laura, and the nurse, Marguerita, in the sculptured interaction built on the electric variety of human nature. The production...
What does not hang well in this Blood Knot is the awkward handling of the asides and soliloquies that reveal the brothers' fears about color: Zachariah's awakening to the constraints his blackness will impose and Morris's guilt for passing as white. That apartheid distorts their lives is evident when they panic at Ethel's proposed visit, but the symbolic ballet of their hatred for each other's color seems a detached, out-of-joint afterthought to the play...
...they splashed down and as they emerged from the bobbing spaceship they call Gumdrop. As the Guadalcanal moved to within 100 yards of the spacecraft, TV cameras on the deck zoomed in to show Astronauts David Scott, Russell Schweickart and James McDivitt tumbling into inflated rubber rafts-a surprisingly awkward operation after the precise maneuvers and sophisticated procedure of the space flight...
...also raises some problems. Although the actors enjoy the liberty that Cooper gives them, it puts them in an awkward position. For if they manage to get as fully into character as Cooper wants them to, to get their guts into the play, and if they are able to build up a high enough energy level to sustain the play (as they have in rehearsals early this week), they remain uncomfortably burdened with the play itself. Their onstage exuberance has at times been so great that it has totally swamped the action of the plot...
...tall and her hair was long and smooth--a light shade of brown. She had French blood, but her soft voice whispered the South. It was slightly dry and fell mighty easy on the ear. Her walk was a little awkward; she was young and protected. I liked that, because I had reached the point where I could prize someone who didn't know what I was going to say before I said it, someone to talk to who would surprise with her reactions--because she was innocent. Maybe I could tell her a little of what was waiting...