Kill Them All!: **** for splatter “Duchess”

The fourth production I saw would have been next in line for a review because it is thematically and aesthetically linked to “Oedipus”, being a more imaginative contemporary re-write of another Sophocles tragedy: “The Other Place” at the National Theatre, with great Pub food on the South Bank opposite St. Paul’s beforehand and G&T at the bar afterwards: perfect evening!

 

(So, we already knew the 21st century version of Antigone before all that other shit happened to her. As was to be expected, she only got “worse”!)

 

In principle, I found this “Antigone” rewrite much more convincing than “Oedipus”, and they succeeded in making me enter the “other place” I totally refuse to enter in real life: the place of perpetual despair one only leaves through the back door (= suicide). It was a long walk, much longer than the one and a half hours it actually took, but in the end I came to understand the obnoxious Antigone who refuses to lead a pointless, shallow life by “getting over” the past and who doesn’t tolerate the rest of the family living a lie. Even though – apart from the grieving - this is an existential theme for me as well, I won’t write anything more about it. Sometimes there isn’t that much to report BECAUSE it was so convincing. So, another **** experience – like the one I will be writing about instead: “The Duchess of Malfi” at the Trafalgar Theatre with Jodie Whitaker in the leading role (and a stellar cast at her side.)

 

Watching the contemporary version of this rather weird play was a hoot. (We were in the front row, and therefore my second greatest “live on the stage” experience, in retrospect, was actually Jodie Whitaker, but there is not much to tell. She was totally present and perfect and beautiful – the way only great actors can be beautiful because every last bit of them – down to their big toe! – makes sense. This effect seems to be enhanced by the stage, as if they are STILL a bit bigger than I remember them.) I left the theatre very well satisfied but totally devoid of feelings or any thoughts about what might be the point of taking this play to the stage one more time. Two hours later, when I got back to my hotel room, it suddenly all “came together”, and I realized that I had had a singular experience of the kind I could ONLY have in the theatre and wasn’t aware I WANTED to have in the first place.

 

(**** for the EXPERIENCE, as the production had a few minor flaws – like the music which was rather unprofessional. But I totally appreciated their knowing exactly what they were doing AND kind of letting it get out of hand!)

 

I usually never read the reviews before seeing something because I like to be surprised, but this time Claudia sent me a few links. They were all bad. After having seen it, we were asking ourselves if the critics had seen the same production because it had been so obvious and straightforward what they wanted to achieve, and it totally worked. It might not make everybody feel good, though, but no critic ever talks about their feelings. Or morality, for that matter, and this might be a bit of a problem in this case because the play is a revenge tragedy – which means that it is about REVENGE. And revenge – though strictly speaking morally incorrect – is all about FEELINGS, like fear and distress, and basic instincts - all these emotions we were so well taught NOT to have or to suppress. The whole point of this production, in my opinion, was to finally take the revenge in “revenge tragedy” seriously.

 

An important clue to understanding what had happened with me and my feelings was Claudia mentioning that “Hamlet” is also a “revenge tragedy”. It reinforced my recurring impression that “Hamlet” is the most overrated play ever written because it is a bit of everything, so that everybody can make of it what THEY like. So, among other things, it is a mediocre revenge tragedy, whereas “The Duchess” is a really good one. No more and no less. - Everybody who knows the first thing about revenge – and, frankly, I think that everybody does! – knows that it is NOT a dish best eaten cold. It is best consumed scalding hot, preferably within hours after the irreparable injustice has been done. In this case it might actually be therapeutic. In “Hamlet” it happens right at the end when everybody has long gone to sleep or got entangled in another storyline, so that nobody still cares about the old codger having been murdered – IF they ever did!

 

“The Duchess” focuses on the revenge – which is totally justified and even necessary because the extent of male dominance and unrestrained abuse of power doesn’t ALLOW a better solution. And only small adjustments had to be made to make this feel totally contemporary! “Kill them all” is in fact a Tarantinoesque solution, and not very subtle, but who says that Tarantino isn’t right about SOMETHING? “Inglorious Bastards” is in fact one of about three films about the Third Reich I ever watched, and I totally loved it because of the “happy” ending! And I am certain that billions of people had exactly the same thought I had when this idiot failed to kill Trump, even though they’d never admit it. It is a bit hard to face it – probably because “we” (= the female and the “good” part of the population) are still losing - that, for centuries, we are fighting a battle against a dominant minority who’s only excuse for supremacy is that they have a bit MISSING!

 

So there was little subtlety – or intellectual challenge – but, in the end, it was exactly what a tragedy is supposed to be: CATHARTIC. (Of course I am in a privileged position for watching in this case, and I’d have loved to have the take of a MAN after seeing it … wouldn’t have been much use, presumably, because they never talk about their feelings!)

 

There WAS a bit of subtlety at the end – and hope! – because the life of the remaining child gets entrusted to the killer Bosola who is correctly identified by the women as the only male still standing who has a thread of humanity left. But, basically, REVENGE!!! If you want it but are a bit squeamish about blood or actually pulling a trigger, there is a smarter solution. Just put all these men together in a room and give them a gun. Be assured: they’ll sort themselves out!

 

The truth about the truth: **** for relevant “Oedipus” update

My second London theatre event took place on October the 30th at the Wyndham Theatre, in the most uncomfortable seat I have ever sat in for such a length of time. Mercifully, like “Macbeth”, it was a concise affair, a slimmed down contemporary run through of the old myth. Oedipus, a charismatic politician, is waiting for the election results in the bosom of his perfect family, but his own eagerness to discover the truth about his past turns out to be his undoing … Sounds like a smashing idea!

 

Unexpectedly – and here I come to the missing star, or rather the one star more than it actually deserved! – it didn’t really work. In this case, my rating is less fair and more subjective than the one for “Macbeth” because the production as such was mediocre, but it will be explained!

 

The promise of a complete contemporary rewrite reminded me of the superb “Phaedra” with Janet McTeer, but it didn’t come close. There was nothing wrong with the idea, on the contrary, and some of the sub-plot was great too – like the unhappy teenage Antigone with whom the gleaming image sits uncomfortably. But apart from the main protagonists, Oedipus and Jocasta, there wasn’t really a reason for most of these people to be there. That Oedipus and Jocasta turned out much more convincing was mostly due to the actors. This time I had been looking forward to seeing TWO of my favourites live on the stage for the first time: Mark Strong and Leslie Manville. Leslie Manville I have seen on NTatHome a few times – she is very busy on the stage. She was as great as she always is, but not really a surprise. Mark Strong I have only seen in “A View from the Bridge” which was praised – I think he even got an Olivier award for that! – but I didn’t find it that special. Seeing him live on the stage, though, blew me away.

 

Talking with my friend later, we agreed that it is really difficult to make this play work as what it is – apart from this exemplary tragedy: a great thriller where the dreaded revelation should be ANTICIPATED all the time but not already known. As it is, everybody knows everything about Oedipus’ past, which makes it really difficult to tell his story in an interesting way. Nonetheless it should be possible. A more imaginative rewrite would have drawn us in notwithstanding, fascinated by the PROCESS of the truth being revealed and fearful for the characters facing the subsequent horrors. This kind of thing happened only once to me - when I saw these teenage boys sitting at the table, knowing that, very soon, they would have to realize that their father is also their brother and their mother also their grandmother. Felt like the world being turned upside down … but it was just a glimpse of what could be done with this play.

 

There is basically one reason why the update worked in the end. Mark Strong. I already had him down as an actor with an uncanny understanding of extreme characters and predicaments, still he surprised me. As I wasn’t exactly spellbound by the action most of time, I observed myself watching, and that was interesting. I just love Leslie Manville. She is one of these actors, like Toby Jones, I just cannot look away from because they are such a joy to watch. There is so much variety in what they are doing, so many different little things going on ALL AT THE SAME TIME. So, even when they were both on the stage, I was looking at Leslie Manville, that is, I had consciously to look away from her and look at Mark Strong. This irked me a bit but not much because I noticed that I didn’t miss anything when I wasn’t looking at him. He was still PRESENT and kind of radiating meaning, even when he wasn’t doing anything. There was only one other time I remember something like this happening: in the spectacular production of “No Man’s Land” with Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart, where Ian McKellen is talking all the time and Patrick Stewart is sitting in his chair, just watching him, expressing his absolute disgust with this human being without saying a word or moving a muscle of his face. I have been lucky to be able to stream it recently, years after seeing it in the Cinema, because I didn’t remember how incredibly good Ian McKellen was in this. I think that is actually the best, most nuanced and humane, performance I have ever seen of him – even better than his great Lear. Still, I only remembered Patrick Stewart, the one actor I thought could actually play a chair and I would want to watch him for two hours. Now there are two.

 

(I just devised the shortest play ever, named “Chairs”. No dialogue, just Patrick Stewart and Mark Strong sitting in chairs and staring at each other. More of a performance, though, as I reckon after about ten minutes they’d spontaneously combust or something because of the energy they’d create.)

 

So, even though I wasn’t always watching, I had this crystal-clear notion, almost from the beginning, what is wrong with Oedipus – even though there is nothing wrong with him. (See below!) Afterwards, thinking about this extraordinary effect his acting had on me - more than once but never like this – I explained it by the observation that, even though he is physically so recognizable - GREAT body, by the way! – there is virtually no trace of the human being Mark Strong left in the characters he is playing. It appears to me that most actors use personal content – physical or emotional expressions, personal experience and so on – very successfully to “build” their characters. (Successfully because these bits, getting into a different context, are totally transformed and instrumentalized. I even like these recognizable bits, most of the time, but with actors I favour I am always looking forward to seeing them play a character that is totally “unlike them”.) Mark Strong is the only actor I know who doesn’t seem to do that, to a point that it is inexplicable to me. And the effect of this superhuman clearness seemed enhanced on the stage. Other actors, like Leslie Manville, always seem to be their own (great) size. (Being so tall probably helps? I didn’t even NOTICE before that he is tall!)

 

So, this “Oedipus” looks like the Mark Strong show? In retrospect, it certainly was. This should have been a weakness of the production, but it wasn’t really, which explains the four star experience. The reason is that the existential bit in “Oedipus” – the experience I was so pleased to have, and the truth I would have wanted so much NOT to learn – is located in the lead character and was transmitted by the actor with maximum impact. Oedipus really is one of the good guys, a politician after our own heart, somebody who cares. In particular about the truth. So much in fact that – against the advice of his experienced campaign manager! – he persists on looking into his own past. So perfect, charismatic, attractive … though maybe a bit naïve and self-centred? There certainly are these little warning “blips” at the back of our minds almost from the beginning. Nonetheless, he is “like us” – or rather as we would WANT to see us. Of course we are always telling the truth – the people that are lying twice (or 200 times, statistics differ!) in 24 hours are certainly not us! OF COURSE we want to know the truth, no matter what. We are even actively searching for the truth, about the world, about our own lives … At least I am.

 

Actually, it’s a strange thing about the truth because I was kind of aware that I was kidding myself. It was this well-known Greek tragedy, though, and Mark Strong’s Oedipus, that enabled me to nail THE TRUTH ABOUT THE TRUTH once and for all. When Oedipus is looking for the truth, he is looking for something he already knows (= that there is nothing fishy about his descent!), something he will be able to control when he knows the specifics. Something that will make the doubts and the threat to his career go away. What he will find is exactly the opposite. And sharing his own belief that he is such a great guy makes it easier for “us” to see that we are exactly the same: good people who consider the truth to be important and living a lie not sustainable. What we are actually doing, though, when we are looking for the truth, is to look for the facts that fit our own world view and how we see ourselves. Never – not ever! – are we looking for the facts that threaten our beliefs!

 

Don’t get me wrong: looking for the “truth” is an important activity which should be more wide-spread than it actually is. It makes us review and affirm our values and beliefs and act good and productively on an everyday scale. But, at least occasionally, we should listen to the annoying teenagers, like Antigone, whose brains are still flexible enough and whose beliefs not settled enough to spot the chinks in the perfect surface. We should be AWARE that what we are looking for, important as it may be, IS NOT THE TRUTH.

 

The truth - and there I was thrilled to find how close we still are to the ancient Greeks! – is what we cannot know, what we don’t want to know. What would destroy us, if we knew it. Globally, I am kind of aware of the threats – or like to believe so! - but please, spare me the details! Do we really want to KNOW if it will be one and a half degrees until the end of the century, or two and half, or even more …? And what FATE dealt us – the things we don’t know about our past, or have conveniently forgotten? What really awaits us in the future? What our end will be …

 

THE TRUTH? PLEASE, SPARE ME!!!

The Time is Free: ***** for breakthrough “Macbeth”

For once I had been completely sure that my blog was finally dead, but the 2024 theatre season in London revived it – and me. I practically feel compelled to write reviews for at least three of the four productions I have seen.

 

The first one on the 28th of October after we arrived for four days of theatre, too many books at Foyles, sensational food, and a tour of Roman Londinium. On the first evening we walked from the St Giles Hotel to the Harold Pinter Theatre – which location I was quite astonished to have remembered correctly, probably because I had had such a great experience there already, seeing “Uncle Vanya” with Toby Jones and Richard Armitage “before Covid”.

 

Even though it had been hyped, my expectations hadn’t been that high, apart from being thrilled about finally seeing David Tennant live on the stage. His Macbeth was indeed the immediate reason for the five stars because this time what I thought could never happen, happened: I finally felt as if I was seeing ALL of Macbeth – in the same way I saw all of Lady Macbeth when Indira Varma played her – even though it was not literally true. Actually, the whole play got off a bit slow, and many of the great psychological moments pre-assassination were kind of left out. Nonetheless it felt complete and perfect and entirely satisfying. Some, very few, actors are just able to do that with Shakespeare. The flipside is that I don’t really remember anything about his performance apart from “Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow …” which was genuinely shattering. And that OF COURSE – even though PTSD appears to have been an issue - his MACBETH DOESN’T GO MAD! (“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow …” was the ultimate proof why this is such a rubbish idea. We need him to appear sane when he says it.) As I am so dissatisfied with my recollection in detail, I just WANT TO SEE THIS AGAIN! It’s very likely, though, that I’ll get a chance in the cinema – where it will probably turn out quite different. And after that almost certainly streaming on NTatHome. (Indira Varma is now streaming!) It really was this once in a lifetime event.

 

Strangely, I remember Cush Jumbo’s Lady Macbeth better, even though she felt a bit underwhelming in comparison – and with Indira Varma in mind. I think that is because I kept asking myself what she was doing, whereas in David Tennant’s case that was just obvious. In retrospect, I think that she did great, doing the right things at the right time with great precision and a minimum of “fuzz”. In her case I also wish my recollection to be more complete, but I noticed a few significant moments which I put to mind. On the whole, she took most of the responsibility for making the Macbeths appear as a couple, in her own words by showing the soft side of Lady Macbeth – which came through not really loud but certainly clear enough.

 

Both their efforts, though, might have fallen on barren ground, hadn’t the whole concept and execution of the production been so successful. Strictly speaking, the production would only have gotten four stars from me because it started out a bit weak. This weakness, though, was more than compensated by the outcome: For the first time, “Macbeth” didn’t feel anti-climactic. And I think this was not quite unintended because loosing most of the psychological “ballast” leading to the murder made it kind of run smoothly towards the end. The remake of my own “Macbeth” – and the failure of the DocX production - recently made me even more aware of how crucial timing is for this play – which entails making decisions and dropping stuff! - and they addressed this issue utterly successfully. I put this down as the main reason that the shortest production of “Macbeth” I have ever seen felt like the most complete, probably because I didn’t “drop out” way before the end. They really made me see this play with new eyes, and, even more so, HEAR it with new ears. It is very fitting that one of the most interesting quotes I picked up from Shakespeare about theatre then and now is from “Macbeth”: the one about the actor who “struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is HEARD no more.” Theatre at the time was at least as much heard as seen, and the Webster team took this up on an entirely new level. It was an utterly innovative and technically extremely complex thing they did there, and it totally worked. (More below.) The effect of finally not losing my thread in “Macbeth” was, in short, that I arrived at my favourite quote right at the end – which I didn’t even know was my favourite quote! – finally understanding why I liked it so much and what it means:

 

THE TIME IS FREE.

 

It is about this absolute best moment in history where the slate is wiped clean and there is a chance to make a new start.

 

I bought Max Webster’s edition of the play in the National Theatre’s bookshop, and I am glad I did, even though I will never look at the text. (The mutilations the text suffered because of the fear that people don’t understand Shakespeare anymore were the worst I have had to endure so far. In my opinion, this is a misconception. One always understands Shakespeare ON THE STAGE, even though one doesn’t understand every word. On the other hand, I am probably not “people” when it comes to “Macbeth”…) But I did read the interviews and rehearsal diary, and this was extremely helpful, way beyond a better understanding of how this production worked technically. There is also a lot about PTSD and child loss, which, in my opinion, is irrelevant and misleading when it comes to understanding the play but may be vital for the actors to make their characters feel contemporary. Fortunately, there weren’t any traces of it left on the stage. The reason why reading the interviews turned out crucial for me was actually the first thing Max Webster wrote about what the play means for him – not even in his own words but quoting the psychologist James Hillman. And what he writes here is EXACTLY what the play means for me and what I had tried to explain to myself unsuccessfully over – as it feels – hundreds and hundreds of pages of writing:

 

"Suppose we entertain the idea that the world is in extremis, suffering an acute, and perhaps fatal, disorder at the edge of extinction. Then I would claim that what the world needs right now is radical and original extremes of feeling and thinking in order for its crisis to be met WITH EQUAL INTENSITY."

 

Presently, I am totally at a loss about what “the world” needs, but this is exactly WHAT I NEED. I don’t know where this absolute urge comes from to know the truth at any cost, and – more ambitiously but also more importantly – kind of formulate an ADEQUATE EMOTIONAL RESPONSE. And why I can only satisfy this urge in a fictional context. To see the state of our world reflected through the media only crushes me. It is certainly important for me to know what is happening, but emotionally it just kills me and makes me unable to be me and to respond. There are so many things I LOVE about the theatre, but there is exactly one thing I NEED, and it’s THIS. And I am gratified and impressed beyond words that somebody had the same intuition about what to do with this play and was able to make it work.

 

Therefore: five stars, no matter what!

 

That was the general praise, now to the amazing details:

 

REMEMBER THE PORTER!

 

Even though I would never have thought of losing it, the porter’s monologue has always appeared to me to be one of the least important bits of the play on a contemporary stage. Nonetheless there was this sentence at the end that got stuck like a pin at the back of my mind because of the blatant, yet not understood, ambiguity. I only saw this done once, but I always felt that it should be spoken to the audience: “I pray you, remember the porter!”

 

In this production, they made sure we would because, to my utter surprise, they inserted a disproportionately long porter’s scene into this concise, fast and consistent presentation of the play that totally broke it aesthetically, with the text completely rewritten, leaving out all the sexual bits that only make for cheap laughs, and instead making the porter – literally! - crash through the fourth wall, engage annoyingly with the audience and make us aware that we already knew who this “other devil” is. That is an amazing example how context changes – currently we have a choice between Trump and Putin - and that it is still totally possible to do what Elizabethan actors must have done. More than possible, you have to rewrite these scenes, if you want them to work as they did at the time. (Shakespeare gave us a clear indication, by the way, by writing most of the bits in verse = these are the bits you DON’T change under any circumstance!!! (or only if you have a really good reason to), and some in prose = these are the bits you are very welcome to change, or HAVE TO change, as in this case.) And this is the reason why the porter’s scene is the first specific bit I wanted to praise. In fact, I have thought a lot about this scene and noticed a lot of important input Shakespeare has written into it, but had no idea how to realize this on the stage. In this case, the scene was not just a provocative or entertaining interruption, it became a pivotal point in the play where the audience’s own context got activated and with it OUR OWN fears, frustrations and anger. From this point on, “we” are in the boat, and the journey through chaos and disaster becomes our own, so that we may genuinely FEEL it when, at the end, the time is free again. I am now absolutely certain that this is the effect the scene was meant to achieve, and I have NEVER before seen it used in this way.

 

TIMELESS SCOTTISHNESS AND CLEAR CONTRASTS

 

Of course, before doing what I just did, I should have described the production aesthetically, which I will attempt now.

 

The stage set was just a raised empty stage with a glass screen at the back behind which the actors and musicians – in full view! – performed text and sounds which were brought to the audience directly over the earphones, whereas the action went on in front, with the actors also being plugged in. (I had been sceptical about this, just because I couldn’t imagine it. The effect was amazing!) There was virtually no contrast in the lighting or scene, just a dark background, and the costumes of the actors were uniformly charcoal kilts, black boots, grey knitted jumpers and beautiful silver swords. This extreme simplicity induced a total sense of timelessness and concentration on what is going on, and the few exceptions instantly took on meaning. In my recollection there were exactly three: The porter’s scene, with daylight lighting, the realistic effect of which I described above. The contrast of light breaking through the glass screen at the end when the time is free again. Great contrast because one becomes aware only THEN that it had been dark all the time! And Lady Macbeth’s milky white dress which – though, theoretically, it might have been solely an aesthetic choice - immediately took on meaning. (Especially with the traditional green dress in mind! Just one small detail of many where I noticed that decades of (mis)understanding “Macbeth” went into this production and clear decisions were made as a result.)

 

I also totally approved of the TIMELESSNESS – which I had recently discarded in favour of a strictly contemporary production. But it’s just the ideal way not to create unnecessary technical problems and keep things simple where they already are complex. There is so much less risk of taking semantic ballast on board that one doesn’t want. Utmost simplicity, clear contrasts, clear message – perfect!

 

The only context that was introduced very decisively but also very cleverly was the SCOTTISHNESS, immediately realized through the costumes and the music. The complete cast was Scottish as well, apart from Lady Macbeth, which apparently also was intended, though, in my opinion, rather unnecessary. (Nonetheless, the more I think about it, the more I like the feeling of Lady Macbeth standing out like a sore thumb because this character has been a challenge from the beginning and still is, whereas Macbeth works great just as the average male. In my opinion, every production has to rise to this challenge, and very few I saw did.) I realized that I totally approved of the Scottishness, if it is done in this TIMELESS way. More than approved, as I recently discovered “Macbeth” as a “history”. I just dreaded realistic kilts and historic folklore. And when only some of the actors have a Scottish accent, this totally breaks the illusion.

 

INSTRUMENTS OF DARKNESS The greatest single aesthetical achievement, though, that was at the same time totally semantic, was the way the supernatural world was presented exclusively through what we hear. I can’t go into details here because there is so much of it, but I was really, really thrilled about the weird sisters. I could never have imagined that “only” hearing them would make them so much more real, believable, and influential. Having them injected directly into the brain, one doesn’t even ask anymore who they might be and what they might be on about. It’s just obvious.

 

And even though this is almost impossible, I was more gratified still that all these spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, all the bloody and invisible hands and multiple instruments of darkness that Shakespeare took such pains to introduce THROUGH OUR EARS finally came on the stage and FINALLY made this play complete. They were suddenly there, and exactly in the place where they have to go and where they originate: OUR BRAINS. Of course, life could be simpler and the world a better place if we were all rational and reasonably happy, free of trauma and psychological defects, immune to collective scaremongering and dangerous fantasies, but it just isn’t. These days, we only have to plug ourselves in to Google to get the universal horror and collective psychosis uploaded directly on our phones. What this does to the unformed mind is the social experiment we are currently going through. I think until this point I didn’t WANT to realize how completely “Macbeth” is about the world as it is, not as it should be.

 

THE BIGGER PICTURE The unique approach to the spiritual world is a good introduction to the single most important achievement of this production. That it somehow never lost sight of the bigger picture, as addressed above. This pleased me infinitely, of course, as I had recently come to the conclusion that tragedy in “Macbeth” ultimately isn’t about individuals but about “the great scheme of things”, even though in “Shakespeare” that should never be a contradiction. Personal drama and global catastrophe are just going on simultaneously. They are two sides of the same coin. It is exactly the point that everybody is convinced that their own fate is so important that it is easier to imagine the “frame of things (to) disjoint” and the world to go down the drain than their own little world to end, whereas, in the great scheme of things, they are just pawns that greater forces use to play with. But to do this SIMULTANEOUSLY on the stage, to make us see the woods through the trees, is the ultimate challenge. There was individual tragedy in the way Macbeth just can’t take the death of his wife who has silently left their relationship long ago without him noticing. There was real personal chemistry, real drama in this relationship. There was genuine humanity when Lady Macbeth is the one to visit Lady Macduff – which shows efficiently why she cannot go with what her husband is doing anymore and “drops out”. There certainly was this focus on the domestic tragedy, but there were also always other people PRESENT on the stage – not just standing there, which is so important in Shakespeare - every single one wrapped up in their individual fate. (And, of course, the porter blundering in to upset it all!)

 

Individuals, society, the spiritual world, everything there on the stage AT THE SAME TIME, never clogging anything else up, permanently contributing to the universal catastrophe. And all of it over in two hours. Just: WOW!