Caroline or Change, and chocolate
Wednesday night I ate at a little Mexican place before going to the theatre. Next to me were two young actors talking trade. I asked them what is the best thing to see in the West End. They both said Caroline or Change. My Steering Committee meeting Thursday night was unexpectedly canceled, due to low attendance (half the members are traveling) so I got a last-minute ticket. Only 25 pounds in the stalls, just the right distance from the stage. I paid 20 pounds for yesterday's show and was in the front seat of the first-level circle. I do lead a charmed life.
CoC is about an African American maid in Louisiana who is 39 and trapped by circumstance--four kids and not much in the way of opportunity. Her knees hurt, she works in the basement of a house in Louisiana--effectively underwater--where the heat is intolerable, especially when the dryer is running. Her teenage daughter shifts between contempt for her--for accepting her lot--and empathy for her. Her daughter is keen to challenge the status quo while Caroline is afraid of--change. It's a muscial by Tony Kushner (Angels in America). Two topical references: a Confederate statue is tumbled and Kennedy is shot.
I was frustrated by the parts where I couldn't make out the lyrics--more often than I would have liked. And I wasn't keen on the ending. But I adored the trio of women who show up throughout the play to explicate Caroline's lot.
One of the pivotal scenes is when the little boy in the house where Caroline works says something horribly racist to her and Caroline says something about Jews being incinerated. The Jewish boy is angry at her for not being more friendly to him (he's lost his mother and his father is emotionally AWOL). And Caroline is too tired and resentful to offer much grace to him. But they each cross a line and she's the adult. She sings a powerful song about not giving in to hate.
While on the topic of strong black women, here is a mural in a chocolate shop.
There are two such chocolate shops on Brick Lane. I love that black women are celebrated here because a lot of women in the Ivory Coast would pick cacao beans--so why should they be invisible? The shop is usually closed when I go by, so I've only seen the shutters:
But Friday at lunch time I stole up Brick Lane to go inside and buy some chocolate.
I think it's a good thing I don't live near Brick Lane.
Feb. 28 and March 1