Beowulf on stilts...

At lunchtime I went to see the Ottawa Stilt Union put on a performance of Beowulf.

Beowulf is a guilty pleasure of mine. I fell in love with it after discovering Tolkien at 15, and have read every translation I can find - though I haven't read all of the Seamus Heaney one yet. I've never read the original. Yup, sadly... all my cultivated history geekishness, all my love of archaic languages, and the only word of Anglo-Saxon I actually know is Hwaet¹.

So. Beowulf. They performed it on the grass outside Tabaret Hall at Ottawa U, in the heat and blazing sunshine. I had a drink, and a hot dog, and some popcorn, but no hat. My skin is now pink.

It was worth it, though.

The only person in the show not on stilts was the narrator, played by Amanda Klaman, who told the story like a bard of old, but in modern colloquial language: how the hero Bewulf gained eternal fame by kicking the ass of the monster Grendel and his mother - who for the purpose of this show was named Mary, and dressed rather like Miss Havesham. If Miss Havesham should happen to be a ravening Anglo-Saxon monster. On stilts.

No one else had dialogue except for shouts, cheers and roars, though they all had battle-helms. They did battle on stilts, swam on stilts, slept their drunken stupor in the mead-hall on stilts, and devoured each other on stilts. Way cool. The accompanying music was mostly percussion; it was a highlight of the show.

The dragon was quie spectacular too.

I took pictures, and with any luck will be able to post them this evening.

~ ~ ~

Addendum: just because I can, and it suits the train of thought, I can't resist posting the poem Beowulf vs. Godzilla by Tom Weller³, which I always think is one of the funniest things I have ever read, right up there with Phelim O'LiamRoe's tennis match, and the Wall Scene in A Midsummer Night's Dream. I like to reread it on a regular basis.

Meanehwael, baccat meaddehaele / monstaer lurccen
Fulle few too many drincce / hie luccen for fyht.
Den Hreorfneorhtthhwr / son of Hrwaerowthheororthwyl
Aesccen aewful jeork / to steop outsyd
Phud! Bashe! Crasch! Beoom! / De bigge gye
Eallum his bon brak / byt his nose offe
Wicced Godsylla / waeld on his asse
Monstaer moppe fleor wyth / eallum men in halle
Beowulf in bacceroome / fonecall bemaccen waes
Hearen sound of ruccus / saed "Hwaet the helle?"
Graben sheold strang / ond swich-blaed shcharp
Stond feorth to fyht / the grimlic foe
"Me," Godsylla saed / "Mac the minsemete."
Heoro cwyc geten heold / with faemed half-nelson
Ond flyng him lic frisbe / bac to fen
Beowulf belly up / to meadehalle bar
Saed "Ne foe beaten / mie faersom cung-fu."
Eorderen cocca-colha / yce-cold, the reol thyng.

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¹ Since maaseru is seriously allergic to Beowulf in any form, due to a remarkable lapse of taste on her part, I have been known to sneak up on her and whisper "Hwaet" at unexpected moments. I like living dangerously.


² It's enough to further inspire me on the "heatwave" challenge on tw100.


³ In Culture Made Stupid. And hey - that makes this a real footnote! With citation and everything!

Thunderstorm...

A beautiful, amazing thunderstorm out there. I can hardly see across the street... the wind is wild and suddenly there's no light in the sky. Gorgeous.

FIC: Torchwood (drabble) - "Loving the Alien"

Title: Loving the Alien
Characters: Jack/Doctor
Challenge: David Bowie Song Titles
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine, no claims, all property of the BBC.
Notes: Cross-posted to my LJ and tw100.

( Loving the Alien )