Eight hours of my life gone. I will never have those eight hours back. I thought that I was only giving up seven hours. This is not how it played out. Yesterday, yesterday afternoon and yesterday evening I sat through the performance of "Gatz." Although by the last hour I found myself being jerked awake time and again by my perpetual nodding off, slightly reminiscent of what college is like, I am thankful that I chose to go. It was a theater experience unique unto itself, brilliantly performed with a wonderful set and an amazing execution of story and character, albeit seven plus hours long.

It was really quite fascinating to watch how they pulled it off, a hugely difficult task of adapting a whole novel verbatim to the stage, and doing it effectively. But they did. And it was great! I will admit that when I first read the TBA handbook and the preview for Gatz said, " A man picks up an old copy of The Great Gatsby and starts reading it... and never stops," I was like, "What! That is the worst idea ever. Talk about signing up for a punishing experience." Alas, I quite enjoyed myself and lived to tell the tale.

After the show reached it's end, as I was walking out of the theater, I was not so exhausted as expected and I had an internal urge to talk of all things Gatsby, especially the death of the American dream. I like that theme. No matter what you can never reach it, whatever it may be. What a great ending, “Tomorrow we will run faster, stretch our arms out father… so we beat on, boats against the current, born back ceaselessly into the past.”

posted by noelle