THE END OF THE THREESOME

11 January 2016

Today we saw the last of the three shows for the weekend.  This one was Big Fish, a musical based on the Tim Burton movie of a few years back.  I wasn't sure how I felt about it at intermission, but the second act kind of brought it all together and in the end I liked it.  It was certainly a tour de force for actor Darryl Strohl-DeHerrera, who played Edward Bloom, the character about whom the play was written.  He is in nearly every scene and handled it adroitly.

But I needed something to put it in perspective, so I came home and got the Netflix DVD of the Tim Burton movie.  I watched about the first half of it and figured I now was in a better position to write what I had to write.

So, to recap, we drove 30 minutes to Sacramento, sat through a 2+ hour show, drove 30 minutes home and then I watched an hour of the 2 hour movie...and I was to write a "capsule" review, which is only 50 words.  It was impossible to get it all in, but what I ended up with was

In trying to make peace with his dying father, his now-adult son attempts to make sense of the fantastical stories he heard all throughout his childhood. This energetic musical, based on the Tim Burton movie is a spectacle, involving a witch, a giant, a mermaid, a circus, and, of course, a big fish.

Hardly seems worth it...except I did enjoy the show.  Maybe I'll write a "real" review for Bitter Hack for what it's worth.

We drove directly from Sacramento to Atria, where we were meeting Ned and Marta to have dinner with my mother and hear about Ned & Marta's Jamaica experiences that did NOT make it to his Facebook journal.  I called her on the way to the show to tell her we were coming, but that didn't help.  She was not in her apartment when Ned and Marta got there and I found all of them sitting in the lobby. 

It was clear she was disoriented and not with it.  At one point she asked us to all stop talking for a minute so she could collect herself.  She asked frequently where her purse was (she never takes it to the dining room) and asked who was going to pay for the meal.  Ned dominated the conversation and she would interrupt him to talk about his grey hair.

When we returned to the apartment, the jacket she had worn to the doctors twice last week was hanging over a chair and she asked if we knew whose it was.  When I told her it was hers and that she had just worn it two days ago, she got angry and said she had never seen it in her life.  I whisked it away and hung it up in her closet, but I won't be surprised if it is gone the next time she has to wear something warm to go outside.

While we visited a bit before leaving, she zoned out completely, read the newspaper and put nail polish on her nails and never so much as looked up at any of us. I wish there were a way to prepare her for guests, but even if you tell her 15 minutes ahead of time, she has forgotten by the time they get there and is flustered, confused, and disoriented.

How to feel old:  someone on Facebook asked people to post links to their favorite songs.  I chose a YouTube video of John Denver singing "Grandma's Feather Bed," which is a nice bouncy, upbeat country song.  The original writer wrote: