In the one-sentence introduction of "Elegy", it is vaguely Coetzee's "Shame". "Shame" is actually not simple, what is rare is a consistent and dark style, like an elegy - I want to see how this American "Elegy" is sung.
Unexpectedly, the first half has been simple, to get a breast cancer. It is not wrong to compare the lost, reminiscent, but never going back years with the passing of beauty, but. .
I guessed the beginning, but not the end.
I'd rather be the teacher-student love in "Paris, Paris". Or many of them draw on each other - or the old professor's tricks to seduce female students are nothing but these.
There are not many plays that have nothing to do with the hero and heroine, but there are not many.
The role of the old friend started off very well, closely revolving around the story, and later involved the poet's emotional world, trying to prove it, not without branches.
The long-term lover has a lot of scenes, but the timing of the insertion is a bit late, so it seems too concentrated. If it appears at the beginning, at least before the heroine appears, it will dilute her role in the structure and will not overwhelm the guest.
The part about my son is the weirdest. We know what the director wants to say, but this method is a bit simple. On the contrary, in the second half, the image of the old woman in the building opposite the professor, or the mirror image of her original partner, if the son's role is replaced by the original partner, the result may be more compact.
Speaking of which, this play was originally a play for the elderly. The heroine is a delicate rose in white hair. The more white and gray the scale, the more beautiful the red rose appears.
The old friend's drama focuses on the professor, the long-term lover's drama is slightly diluted (she belongs to gray), the son's drama is all given to the original wife, and the heroine's youth is more enthusiastic and charming. What will the scenery be like?
Music is good. The picture could be more lyrical. There's nothing shameful about being provocative.
When the mood is dark, like this time. Winter Christmas, cold bedroom. lonely and old. Nowhere to go, nowhere to go, no home.
Seeing the name of this "Elegy", it doesn't matter what he said.
I could hear it curling up Nana, as if there was nothing, sometimes slowly and sometimes urgently, filling the air.
Whose dirge is this? Yes, nothing else but ourselves, sing a dirge to ourselves.
View more about Elegy reviews
