Wednesday, July 16, 2008

The first thing I did when the plane landed in Los Angeles was switch my Blackberry back to the US network.  I immediately get a message saying, "Welcome to Iceland . Dial + 1 and the number for United States, and 345 for the city code." Sort of makes you wonder. 

I'm back home and feel very disoriented.  Still sort of feels like I was sent home.  There was nothing complete about the experience in London.  As I was packing up last night to leave there were clothes I never had a chance to wear.  Opening night and my BBC Television interview were the only times I needed to dress up.  I thought there would be many more interviews before we were done.

On the plane I watched the Maltese Falcon, again.  It is one of my all time favorites. This time I saw something I had never seen before.  When the Falcon is delivered to Spade's apartment it is wrapped in newspaper, cotton and cloth tied with twine.  Gutman excitedly cuts the twine and peels away the packing tossing it all over the table to reveal the black bird. He scrapes it with a knife to discover it is made of lead, not gold and jewels.  The very next shot is a master of everyone standing around the table looking at the falcon. There is no wrapping, the paper and cloth have disappeared from the apartment. The table is completely bare except for the "dingus". Never noticed  it before don't know why I did this time.  Now it will be the only thing I'll notice in that scene from now on. 

Very tired. It may be early evening here in LA, but in my body it is about 5:00am.
As you were,
Jay

1 comment:

  1. I can't say how incredibly disappointed I am that your London run has come to an end. You don't know me. I don't know you. A few years ago, after a long and grueling time after my son was born, my wife suggested I take the day and head into Manhattan to see your show. I went in, only to find that it had closed...quite literally....the day before.

    When I heard that you'd had a chance to take the show to London I was sure it would fly there. The business of show business is a dark one. The business of any art is a dark one. I've worked in the book publishing business, and am now a performer myself (magician, we're a dime a dozen), but that's what I've come to learn. Even here, at the lowest common denominator all the way up to such talent as yourself, the business is unforgiving.

    I hope you find a place where your show not only has a chance to live and breath, but thrive. And I hope to get a chance to see it. I've read just about everything I could about it, and it sounds wonderful, thrilling, hilarious, silly and magical.

    Keep the faith. Keep the magic. Stay alive, if only to prove the naysayers wrong.

    --Tony Gangi
    tonygangi@yahoo.com

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