STAGE: Matthew Bourne's Romeo & Juliet

George and I went to the ballet tonight, thanks to Center Theatre Group's Digital Stage program. Matthew Bourne’s choreography never fails to be breathtaking, and when combined with a creative reimagining of Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet set to Prokofiev’s dramatic score, the result is riveting. Two very talented and very young dancers, Cordelia Braithwaite and Paris Fitzpatrick, bring to life the star-crossed lovers. Their dance duets are charged with passion and energy, with effortless gravity-defying moves that make you wonder whether there aren’t hidden strings. Their fluidity is amazing, and in one remarkable scene they carry off their pas de deux in a prolonged lip-locked kiss. The tale is made contemporary, and reset in some kind of mental institution with an abusive guard, and it is a darker more twisted version of the classic tragedy. But the beauty of the music and the movement captivates with hope for the young lovers right up to their doomed end.

Christen Lost Too Soon

Today I mourn the loss of Christen Smith Herman, who was a good friend through junior high and high school. We bonded in French class, and in high school, I remember a tree well where Christen, Pat Ruffino, and I would always meet at recess and lunch, more comfortable being with each other than at any of the more popular lunch tables. She was a vegetarian and into yoga decades before those were as cool and widespread as they are now. I think her fandom of George Harrison may have lead her to Ram Dass and Paramahansa Yogananda, her love of music flowing naturally into an Indian spirituality that I think she came to authentically and just found herself in tune with. I remember her carrying around “Be Here Now”, and her teaching me how to draw an “om” (which we used to decorate our yellow Pee-Chee folders that were ubiquitous in our day). I remember that she would always look carefully before sitting down at the tree well because she valued life, even insects, and didn’t want to accidentally squash any ants. She had a brilliant smile and wore it often. She played guitar and had a beautiful mezzo-soprano voice. Her voice and passion for music would become a career, singing in the St. John’s Cathedral Choir, and joining a trio called Voxfire who sang medieval music (Hildegard of Bingen!). We lost touch after high school but loosely reconnected about 20 years ago. I probably saw her a half-dozen times, a few times intentionally, and a few times just bumping into each other (which happens more often around Los Angeles than one might expect). We once literally bumped into each other at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, as we were both looking up in amazement at its awesome heights. And thanks to social media, we were able to keep a sense of what each other was up to. I got to know her first and second husbands and watch her two kids grow up through her posts (though I did get to meet all of them in real life at least once). I’d been enjoying her artistic eye capturing the beauty of the San Juan Islands, where she had moved a few years ago. I had been planning to visit her last July on the way to an Alaska cruise, but Covid canceled those plans. And now we may reschedule that trip next year, but she won’t be there to visit. It’s hard to believe she’s gone so suddenly and too soon. My heart goes out to Paul, Kaija, Peter, and Martin. Their loss is unfathomable, but I’m glad her husband and children had the opportunity to bring her home and be with her as she passed.