ceebeegee | This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.

I just got off the phone with the Hudson Current reporter from last night.She asked me a lot of questions, like would I say there's more music in this production of A Christmas Carol than others I've seen (I said well, there are about 15 pieces in this production but they're not set pieces, they're used in a variety of ways--to comment on the action, to underscore certain themes, to add tension, to prepare the audience--so maybe it will feel like more, or less). She asked about my "take" on the show--I talked about our focus on the language, the authentic (and yet not beaten into the ground) music. She wanted to know about the tablework process--I told her about the early rehearsal, talking about classical technique, studying poetry, hearing the cadences. She also asked if I thought my version had more thpoookiness--I said that I was always interested in ghosts and even as a child, my favorite ghost was Future, with the long creepy robes and talon-like fingers*. I said I took some liberties with the Ghost of the Future--I didn't want to give it away but I tried to add thpoookiness there. She asked why did I think Dickens used the ghosts? I thought about it and said perhaps he was saying that some changes are just too big for us mortals to accomplish on our own--you need supernatural intervention. I mean, he does it all in one night! As she was typing this up (I could hear her typing over the phone) something else occurred to me--I said "actually the very first phrase in the book bears this out." I started reciting it and she joined in--"Marley was dead, to begin with." And at the end of the passage he finishes with "this must be distinctly understood--or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate." So he gets in both worldly, inescapable fact of life and death, and the otherworldly miracle with which the story ends--in the very first passage. Alpha and Omega.

The article should be out on Wednesday.

*I was showing Duncan this picture

of the Ghost of the Future--it kills me. I just love that prissy little finger pointing down--it's so precise and showy. Like he just got a manicure and doesn't want to mess it up.

This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.

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