And Now, To Work

[Weekends start Thursday night. At least, mine have been doing so lately. Last weekend is a blur, one I'm just as happy hasn't resolved itself in my memory. This one just past was more active, less harmful, weirder, and just plain better:]

[Thursday night: Saw 28 Days Later, I think at about the same time RuPaul did. I'd seen the first 15 minutes of it in February on our flight to London, but the sound was wonky on that particular channel of Virgin's amazing menu of entertainment. (Fly Virgin Atlantic, avoid inflight boredom.) From what I did see back then, I knew we were in for a wild, unsettling ride.]

[Friday: Work, then Korean barbecue at the excellent Brothers on Geary with Andrew and Jackie, some new friends with whom we've been spending a lot of time lately. Andrew's family is Korean, so he guided us thru the many little dishes and several big ones, cooked bulgogi (thinly sliced beef and pork) on the built-in table grill, and generally shed his cynical demeanor for a little genuine ethnic pride.]

[After dinner, we found it necessary to head back to the apartment and assault ourselves with the recent muddled remake of Swept Away. The problem isn't, contrary to what you probably read, that Madonna's a bad actress. No actor could have made sense of this material, girl. What was Guy Ritchie trying to do, exactly? I've seen this bloke's entire oeuvre, and I begin to think he has no idea what word "theme" means. Random, disturbing, and crazy. (His BMW commercial, also starring his wife, was brilliant; any time M-word is filmed being herself - Desperately Seeking Susan, Evita, and the Benz advert - it works just fine. Used to be one-note actors made a fine living doing what suited them...)]

[Saturday: restful day becomes a rerun of last weekend's blur. Fun, but summer decadence is beginning to wear on me just a bit.]

[Yesterday was the kicker, and I hope what will be the beginning of a theatre-going trend. While Theatre Rhinoceros's fare isn't Euripides, Cocksucker: A Love Story wasn't the prurient excuse to ogle nudity often staged by gay thespians hereabouts. Yes, there was hunky male bareness, but it wasn't gratuitous. It had a theme (hear that, Mr. Ritchie?); although the Clinton-Lewinsky devices already felt dated, sex addiction and its ramifications are always good for a spin on the boards.]

[Next theatre experience: Wigfield on Wednesday at Theatre on the Square, starring Amy Sedaris. Yes, formerly of Strangers With Candy; yes, David's sister; yes, brilliant. The blur clarifies.]

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