Review: I Am My Own Wife
A review by Bradley Troll
A light touch of her pearls, a soft swish of the matronly black apron over the black lace of a modest skirt. She turns a squeaky crank and delicately places the needle to the record as the soft static of an Edison phonograph prepares to tell its symphonic story. Behind her--antiques. Clocks, record players, sideboards... looming just behind the lace scrim screens. And on a table, small representations of these things, lingering memories of the grandeur of her famous museum in Bernlin-Mahlsdorf.
Review: The Rocky Horror Show
A review by Bradley Troll
I was a Sophomore in college the first time I watched the movie version. My best friend Julie brought over this VHS with a big pair of lips on the cover, and she promised that my life would never again be the same. I settled in and watched--determined to find the meaning, understand the symbolism and waited for that moment when every odd thing I was watching would suddenly be explained, make sense. I didn't heed Frank-N-Furter's advice; I didn't simply "give myself over to absolute pleasure." When it ended, I was perplexed. I watched it again the next week, didn't think too hard, and something finally soaked in. Julie was right; my life was never the same.
Review: Opus
A review by Bradley Troll
"At it's best, it's like making love... at it's worst, it's like swallowing Drano." This analogy is used to describe a quartet making music. However, Southern Rep's performance of Opus by Michael Hollinger takes this sentiment beyond the lines of a staff and onto the boards of a stage. A true act of creation, Opus is love, music, and theatre in harrowing harmony.
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