#go see age of avery in a theatre near you

[mia-ugly]

And I whispered to the void, what would you have of me? And the void whispered back: ...A GOOD OMENS SHOWMANCE AU...

CW: homophobia, mentions of drug use, smoking, alcohol, movie stars that have Fallen. (Thanks @ineffably-effable for your excellent feedback and terrible encouragement.)

“What happened to your coat?”

Crowley hadn’t meant to start out like that.  Had meant to say something really bloody clever, cool even. But those were the first words out of his mouth, dropping like pennies in a well, and fucked if he can take them back now.

Avery Fell looks over at him. He’s got a darting-rabbit sort of gaze, and his blue eyes quickly return to his champagne. Fine, whatever. Most people at the cocktail party have been avoiding Crowley like the Black Death, certain he’s contagious. He’s had a couple of drinks (booze was never his problem) and he’s sure he’s not imagining the disapproving glances that’s earning him as well. Oh no, don’t let Crowley near the punchbowl, he might - trash a set and shag your husband and strangle your kitten and - and -

Do all the wrong things. That’s what he does, right, that’s what all these bastards are waiting for? For him to fuck it all up again and prove once and for all that he doesn’t belong here.

(If he’s being honest with himself, if he’s cutting through to the deep-dark-ugly-truthful heart of things, he probably doesn’t belong here. It’s been ages since he’s been invited to one of these fancy premiere do’s, and he feels overdressed and underdressed and likely to scratch his suit jacket right off  his clammy skin if he doesn’t get a cigarette soon. He doesn’t belong with the beautiful people any more. Lantern-jawed and surly and all black elbows and ribs - he probably never did.)

Oh, right.  He came over here with a purpose: making nice with the cringing vanilla so-and-so to his left. That’s clearly going down like a lead bloody balloon.

“Your coat? Brown leather one -“

“Coat? I - no, I -“

“I’m sure you were wearing one. I was eyeing it up on the carpet like anything.” That much is true. The coat had a very nice cut to it, and despite a ridiculous bit of tartan peeking out of the sleeves, he kind of wanted to touch it.

It looked rather soft.

“Lost it on your way in, did you? One of the paps wrestle it off you to sell online?”

Fell gives him a tight little smile, a please go bother someone else smile, an expression like someone politely snacking on glass. And this, this man is going to be Crowley’s co-star. Crowley’s first real job in nearly fifteen years (the second chance he never thought he’d get, a longshot at redemption) and this is the man he’s going to have to share it with.  Jesus Christ on Toast. Fell can barely look at him.

He’s probably just trying to protect his pretty little image, and Crowley gets it. He’s the ‘wrong sort’ of person to be seen with. Avery Fell stays well out of the press - never involved in any sort of scandal, never getting the bad kind of attention. He only pops up now and then when his latest film is winning an award or when he and his partner are donating huge sums to charity. He’s clearly too good for this world and all the nasty, regular people in it (people like Crowley).  Clearly some sort of flawless bloody angel.

“Look, this will go a lot easier if you pretend you can stand me.” Crowley tosses back the rest of his lager, considers another one. Considers how it would look, whether Beez would hear about it tomorrow (he should have dragged her out to this, spread the misery around.) “I get it, I do. Can’t be seen fraternizing. People might get the wrong idea, right? And I’m sure you’re worried about the series, whether I’ll light the whole thing on fire and bring you down with me, fuck it all up, but -”

“Not at all.” Fell’s wide blue eyes are suddenly intent on Crowley’s face. “And I’d rather you didn’t put words in my mouth.”

Crowley is - staggered. Bowled over. Knocked on his arse (those eyes are really - hellishly blue. He’d thought it was something special effects did.)

Fell’s voice sounds different as well.  Crowley realizes that he hasn’t actually spoken to the man in person before. There was that recent, awkward conference call when the two of them were offered their roles in Warlock (they muttered “congratulations” to each other like aliens learning what words meant) but that was the extent of it.

When he’s not on-screen, Fell’s voice is more musical.  At least Crowley thinks he can hear music. There’s something vibrating around him, some uncanny harmony pressing up against his skin.

“I have every faith in your talent,” Fell continues.  The corner of his mouth curls in a shy grin, and that’s hellish as well.  “Was quite the fan of your - erm, previous work.”

“You - you were?”

Christ, Crowley hopes he isn’t glowing as brightly as he feels, they’ll see him from space. He’s such a fucking idiot - give him a scrap of kindness and he’ll follow you home with his tongue hanging out (and these days, no one ever says much about his previous work. Mostly they ask him if he’s okay. How is he doing? Is he doing okay? Has he tried yoga? How’s yoga going? Is it going okay?)

“Oh, absolutely. That Hanake film - I must have seen it three times in theatres at least. And the Irish co-production, where you played the musician - what was it called? Strings? The ending was simply -“ There is a sudden flood of delight in Fell’s eyes, crinkles forming at the corners. That is a look that Crowley recognizes from the man’s films (the happy films anyway. The nice ones.) Turns out Fell can do that look in real life as well.  

Crowley’s glad his drink is empty because - fuck.

“Well. That’s really - nice.” Nice? Like this man just brought him a casserole -  Crowley’s supposed to be cool, what’s wrong with him?

“It’s the truth.” Fell is still looking at him with those soft-lit eyes, so Crowley finally looks away, hoping it will help his sanity.  He isn’t quite so happy anymore about his empty glass. “I saw you on stage once at Stratford, as well.  Ages ago. You were so talented.”

Crowley doesn’t miss the were in that sentence. Of course it’s were, it’s always were - you were so talented.  You were a star once (it was a long time ago.)

Ages. Lifetimes.

Before the fall.

(“You can’t talk to me like that on my set.  Hey! You fucking primadonna, I don’t care who your parents are, I  should never have -”

“Then you should watch your fucking mouth, maybe -”

“You’ve got some problem with the way I talk? I’ll say whatever I damn well please, if I want to call someone a fucking queer then - “

“Then you better call me that as well. All right? I’m a fucking queer, Hastur, so now what do you have to say-”

“That you’re a bloody mess, Crowley. Jesus Christ - are you high right now? Take your glasses off.”

“Fuck you!”

“Unbelieveable, he’s fucking high right now, get him the fuck off set. Security -”

“No, don’t you - touch me, get your fucking hands off -”)

Ha, good times. Great memories.

It isn’t every day you get your heart broken, shoot up in your trailer, come out to the world in the stupidest way possible, trash a set, get arrested, lose your job, get blacklisted in the industry you love - all in the space of a few hours.

Really, if it wasn’t so life-ruining, it might be kind of impressive (Crowley bites into the meat of his cheek, bites harder and harder, testing the limits of his skin.)

“Are so talented,” Fell amends softly. “Is what I meant,”

It takes Crowley a minute. He slowly unlocks his jaw.  “What?”

“Just - misspoke there. Didn’t want you to think -”

“Hiya, love!” A woman’s voice interrupts them, and Crowley realizes that his pulse is beating dangerously fast, the nattering of a snare drum at the start of a march. He’s glad for the distraction.

“Thank heavens, you made it just in time.” Fell steps forward to give the red-headed newcomer a peck on the cheek.

“Crowley, I don’t believe you’ve officially met my partner, Tracy. Tracy, of course, this is -”

“Anthony Crowley!” Tracy shakes his hand enthusiastically. “I’m a fan, a massive fan. Almost didn’t recognize you without your glasses.”

Tracy’s an overly made-up woman about Fell’s age, with jingling bracelets on each of her wrists, a silk dress that looks more like a dressing gown, and an accent that’s a bit - common. Crowley’s seen her before, but only in the very rare photos of Fell at social events.

Tracy’s louder in person. Shabbier ‘round the edges.

Crowley likes her immediately.

“Such exciting news, the two of you working together. This one won’t shut his mouth about it!” Tracy gestures toward Fell, who presses his lips together. Goes a bit - pink maybe? Nah, probably just the light.  “I’m going to pop to the bar, get myself a G&T before the film starts. I’ll see you gents in - Az, I thought you were wearing that leather jacket tonight. The nice one - did you change your mind?”

“Er, yes.  Bit - warm for it.”

“Warm? Give over. Just getting out of the car, I was freezing my ti-“ She stops talking suddenly, purses her pink-smeared lips. “Um, you know, I’ll just get that drink.”

She heads off to the bar, and Crowley stares at Fell. Silently. After a moment more of that, he raises an eyebrow (it usually does the trick.)

“Igaveitaway.”

It takes Crowley’s temporal lobe a few extra seconds to make that into something sensical.

“You - what?”

“My coat. There was a - the girl outside the theatre. On the corner, with the cardboard sign? Don’t look at me like that - it’s cold out, it’s just going to get colder -“

“You gave your coat away.” How had Crowley not noticed this? “To a - a tramp?”

“Shhhh,” Fell waves his un-cocktailed hand urgently. “Please keep it down. I don’t want anyone to - hear.”

“You - don’t?” This may be the biggest shock of all.

“Then everyone might - talk about it and I - let’s just leave it. Tracy already thinks I’m too soft, and it - doesn’t matter. Please don’t say anything.”

Crowley feels like he can’t get enough air, like maybe he tied his scarf too tightly around his throat. He tugs at it, and Fell looks over in concern.

“My dear, are you all right?”

My dear.

When was the last time anyone called him something so gentle? When was the last time he had a pet name, when - No. Anthony Crowley, stop whatever the fuck you’re doing this absolute second. Stop what you’re thinking as well.

Definitely stop looking at him.

But Crowley does not stop looking. Not that Fell is an astonishing beauty - maybe in a cherubic, middle-aged sort of way, all tight blond curls and flushed cheeks, but he’s more like the idea of person than an actual one.

And he’s not Crowley’s type, not at all.

Fussy as anything.  Straight(ish, let’s be honest, it’s the Arts.)  Taken.

It’s  - ridiculous.

There’s a five minute warning announced over the speakers, and Fell gives Crowley a smile that’s - warmer this time. Still weighed-down with pockets full of stones, but a bit more real. Crowley wonders (a whiskey-sharp thought that has no place in his brain) what it would take for Avery Fell to let his guard down, even for a moment. How much booze, how much time, how little sleep - what could get him to smile at Crowley in an open-book sort of way, spine cracked, pages ruffled.

That’s when Crowley’s jostled by the latest BBC ingenue, well on her way to pissed and wobbling in her stilettos.

“Haha, oh nooo...” the poor thing whimpers as sub-par red wine spills down the front of Crowley’s shirt. “Sssshhhh, okay? Just - I’m so ssssorry.  It’s okay, right?” She wiggles her fingers, pulls up the tiny straps of her dress, and then promptly pisses off with what’s left of her Merlot.

“The fuck,” Crowley hisses to himself, as Fell takes a step toward him.

“Oh, what a disaster.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m all in black, can’t see it -”

“But you’ll be damp for the entire film, hardly pleasant - here, just let me -“ And suddenly Golden-Globe winner Avery Fell has a handkerchief in his hand, and is pressing it to Crowley’s chest, soaking up the worst of it.

Crowley - swallows.  He doesn’t move.

“There you go,” the goddamn angel says softly, “It’s no trouble. We’ll have you fixed right up.”

“Right.” It’s a wonder Crowley can speak. What the fuck is happening? His skin is cold from the air and damp from red wine, but every now and then he can feel the heat of Fell’s palm through the fabric of his shirt.

(You poor, pathetic, touch-starved bastard. Pick up someone at a club and quickly; you’re clearly losing your mind. Again.)

“Better,” Fell says, pulling back. The handkerchief in his hand is now stained purple, like a fistful of violets. Fell’s hand is as well. Crowley wonders (and then immediately wants to lobotomize himself) if the man’s thick fingers would taste like sub-par Merlot.  “I suppose you’ll want to go into the theatre. I’ll wait for Tracy. And - um - we’ll see each other in three months, won’t we?”

“Um. Yep.”

“Expect we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Ha, yeah.”

“I’m so glad we had a chance to chat properly. I was always hoping you’d – well.” Fell stops and - looks away. Swallows. Crowley watches the bob of his throat. “I look forward to working with you.”

Crowley manages a weird, unbalanced smirk (he can feel it tilting on his face, knows what he looks like). He mumbles something unintelligible,  and slinks away. He doesn’t know if he quite gets the ‘slink’ down but he’s feeling a bit off balance (never good for any sort of swagger.)

He finds his seat for the film, and curses himself for getting so caught up in their conversation that he forgot to piss off for a smoke. Now he has to sit through a whole film thinking about it. Damn Fell for - distracting him.

The man in question is currently coming down the row a few in front of Crowley’s, a bit closer to the screen.  His hair catches the light like a halo, making him look more of an angel than ever. Even in the darkness, he seems to notice Crowley staring at him (staring for fuck’s sake) and gives him a precious little wave.

Crowley grimaces, doesn’t wave back (but his hand clenches on the armrest in one desperate spasm, wanting to, wanting to.)

This could be a problem, Crowley thinks, and then thinks better of it. Absolutely bloody not.   He’s being an idiot  (and if he calls Beez later while nursing a tumbler of whiskey and tearing out his hair, “Ringlets, Beez, bloody ringlets, just murder me –I’m not allowed to feel like this about someone with ringlets –” well, he’s an actor. He’s allowed a bit of drama now and then.)

It won’t be a problem, Crowley thinks to himself as the lights go down and the opening credits start (three rows ahead of him and seven seats down, Fell laughs.)

Fuck. 

It could be.

[ramajmedia]

10 Animated Spin-Offs As Good As The Movies They’re Based On

We’re going to be totally blunt here: most cartoon shows based off hit movies are terrible. A quick online search will return numerous examples of this dubious phenomenon, including poorly conceived animated outings from franchises like Star Wars, RoboCop, Planet of the Apes and more.

But not all cartoon series inspired by live-action films are a bust. On the contrary, a select few even live up to the high standard set by their source material – which is especially impressive when you remember that many have been retooled to appeal to a much younger audience! With this in mind, here’s a list of 10 Animated Spin-Offs As Good As The Movies They’re Based On.

RELATED: The 10 Best Animated Series To Binge-Watch, Ranked

10 Star Wars: The Clone Wars

Star Wars fans had been fantasizing about the Clone Wars ever since the legendary conflict was namechecked way back in 1977. However, we only get to witness the beginning and end of the Clone Wars in the prequel trilogy – and it fell to director Dave Filoni and his team to fill in the blanks on the small screen.

Inspired by the wildly popular Clone Wars 2D animated shorts, Star Wars: The Clone Wars got off to a rocky start. Indeed, audiences and critics alike responded negatively to Lucasfilm’s ill-advised decision to repackage the first few episodes as a less-than-stellar theatrical release.

However, those viewers who stuck with The Clone Wars were richly rewarded with an uncommonly sophisticated, surprisingly dark all-ages expansion of the saga’s mythos, which paved the way for equally well-received follow-up Star Wars Rebels.

9 The Real Ghostbusters

Ask anyone who grew up in the late 1980s/early 1990s about The Real Ghostbusters, and chances are they will have very fond memories of this cartoon continuation of the beloved comedy franchise. Despite its more junior target demographic, The Real Ghostbusters perfectly captured the general tone of the movies, and even did a decent job of referencing their continuity – which is rare for animated adaptations then and now.

Sure, the later seasons are a bit too kiddie-oriented (even for a program aimed at children), soft-pedalling the already-restrained spooky elements, while its Slimer-centric sister series is best avoided entirely. But in its prime, The Real Ghostbusters was a top-shelf effort that broadened Ghostbusters’ following – as evidenced by its toy line and tie-in comic book series!

8 Clerks: The Animated Series

When you think of films that would translate well to an animated TV show, Kevin Smith’s black and white indie comedy Clerks isn’t likely to be the first movie that springs to mind. Yet not only did Clerks: The Animated Series happen, it lived up to its critically acclaimed counterpart (and then some!).

Taking advantage of the growing market for “adults only” animation in the early 2000s, Clerks: The Animated Series retains the same raunchy, profanity-laden wit that made the film a surprise hit. At the same time, it also takes advantage of the possibilities provided by animation, weaving in surreal gags that would be near-impossible to pull off in a live-action joint, so it’s a real shame the show was cancelled after one season.

RELATED: 15 Animated Show Episodes Pulled From TV

7 Beetlejuice

On the face of it, Beetlejuice isn’t in the same league as the comedy/horror flick it’s loosely based on. After all, the scares are virtually non-existent, the humor less risqué, and the overall vibe decidedly more mainstream. But what saves this animated series is that, unlike every other entry on this list – with the exception of Star Wars: The Clone Wars, which had input from Star Wars creator George Lucas – Beetlejuice was developed by director Tim Burton himself.

This means that the above changes – along with other major alterations, like reworking the titular poltergeist as a loveable prankster rather than a malevolent pest – were overseen by Burton. As a result, Beetlejuice overcomes its watered-down nature by virtue of being unusually well-thought out, and the cartoon (particularly early in its run) stands out as one of the most delightfully inventive and offbeat kids’ programs of its day.

6 Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventures

 A recurring theme between the animated series featured on this list is that they tend to go off the rails even quicker than regular TV shows – and Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventures is no exception. Things started out well enough; aside from the odd curse word or mature reference, the Bill & Ted movies are almost tailor made for young audiences, so Hanna-Barbera and CBS didn’t need to tinker with the formula for the small screen. But best of all, Keanu Reeves, Alex Winter and George Carlin reprised their big screen roles, adding an extra layer of authenticity to proceedings.

But then Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventures jumped ship to Fox, and everything went terribly, terribly wrong. Sure, the scripts – which leaned into the fun (and educational value) of the franchise’s time travel mechanic – were still solid. But network executives demanded that Reeves, Winter and Carlin be replaced by the cast of its then-upcoming live-action adaptation (which, incidentally, flopped), and without its original stars, Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventures soon fizzled out.

5 Jumanji: The Animated Series

Jumanji: The Animated Series serves as a great reminder that animated spin-offs don’t need to be 100% faithful to their source material to work. And make no mistake: the show deviates drastically from the continuity established in Jumanji in several respects. Indeed, Jumanji: The Animated Series’ basic premise – Alan Parrish is trapped within the eponymous boardgame’s fantasy jungle environment, and siblings Judy and Peter try to rescue him each week – flies in the face of the 1995 blockbuster’s ending.

Yet it’s thanks to these differences that the cartoon manages to live up to (and even outdo) its live-action progenitor, as they make it possible for the creative team to set the show largely inside Jumanji itself. The upshot of this is an increased emphasis on exploration and world-building – which is probably why Jumanji’s two theatrical sequels wound up going down a similar route when re-launching the property!

RELATED: 15 Great Movies That Should Be Turned Into Animated TV Series

4 The Mask

We don’t think we’re saying anything controversial when we argue that The Mask owes more to Tex Avery’s Looney Tunes animated shorts than it does to the Dark Horse Comics series it’s based on. So really, when a tie-in cartoon dropped in 1995, it felt like a logical progression for the franchise – so much so that the Mask’s madcap antics actually seemed better suited to the medium.

Voice artist Rob Paulson deserves a shout-out for his performance in the lead role, as he – alongside the show’s talented team of artists – handles the unenviable task of standing in for comedy icon Jim Carrey about as well as anyone could. Duane Capizzi , the mastermind behind the adaptation, also deserves kudos for preserving as much of the film’s bawdy humor as possible – an episode was even pulled for being too rude for a show aimed at kids!

3 Men In Black: The Series

As much as we all love the Men in Black movies, a large part of their appeal can be attributed solely to Will Smith’s near-superhuman charisma. Strip that away, and all you’re left with is a clever premise and memorable visual effects, both of which are increasingly let down by shoddy screenwriting (seriously: did anyone really enjoy the sequels?).

And yet Smith’s absence is ironically the reason why Men in Black: The Series is such a satisfying animated spin-off. Without the mega-star to rely on, the creative team is forced to focus more on smart scripting, and over the course of MIB: The Series’ four season run, Agents K and J embark on some genuinely mind-bending missions that put much of what we see on the big screen to shame!

2 Ace Ventura: Pet Detective

The Ace Ventura flicks haven’t aged particularly well since arriving in theatres in the mid-90s – and they weren’t exactly masterpieces to begin with. As such, the animated spin-off Ace Venture: Pet Detective didn’t have a high bar to clear in terms of equalling what had come before it.

But credit where credit is due, the Ace Ventura cartoon does a decent job of aping the Jim Carrey comedy vehicles upon which it’s based, despite its younger target demographic. Otherwise, the main reason to revisit the series is to lay eyes on some of Seth MacFarlane’s earliest writing efforts – the Family Guy creator penned a handful of scripts while still a freelance scribe.

1 Star Wars Resistance

Much like Star Wars: The Clone Wars before it, Star Wars Resistance faced an uphill battle for acceptance early on…and depending on who you talk to, it’s a battle the show never fully won. After growing accustomed to the stylized CGI and more mature storytelling that characterized both Clone Wars and Star Wars Rebels, older fans weren’t exactly thrilled with Resistance’s cel-shaded aesthetic and more simplistic plotting.

Still, the series – the first to be set during the Star Wars sequel trilogy – went on to garner positive reviews for its smart approach to all-ages fare and won over more than a few doubters along the way. Further bolstering the revised opinion of Resistance among hardcore devotees is the presence of actors Oscar Isaac and Gwendoline Christie, reprising the roles they originated on the big screen.

NEXT: 10 Best Raunchy Animated Series (According To IMDb)

source https://screenrant.com/animated-spin-offs-good-movies-theyre-based/

[amtopmthoughts]

BACKGROUND STORIES

Annie and Will met in Chicago in 2000? when Annie moved there from SAN FRANCISCO/

Names:

adults:

Elizabeth

Katherine

Claire

Oliver

Amelia

Naomi

Richard

James

Rose

Adrianna

Renn

Lilly

Kids: 

Samantha sam 

Sam

Dylan

William will

Benjamin Ben

Violet vi v

Natalie nat

Olivia liv

Isabella Bella 

Skylar sky

Scarlett

Carson

Naomi

Blake

Nathan Nate

aiden

Alexander Alex

Alexandra Alex lexie

Alexis

Tod:

Haley

Casey

Lilly

Jake

Dylan

Benjamin Ben

Last names: 

Ward

Avery

Williams

Roberts

Lewis

Carson

Carter

Clack

Wilder

Turner

Duncan

Wilson

Harper

Hansen

Tate

Stevens

VIOLET duncan

PARENTS 

Amelia & MATTHEW Duncan

WILLIAM "WILL" Avery 

PARENTS

ANNIE AND RICHARD Avery

FRIENDS

LEXIE STEVENS

LIAM HARPER

SAM TATE

BENJAMIN BEN JOHNSON?

she didn't seem to be from here, this town, this planet. she didn’t look or sound like she was from this time. I loved the way she could sometimes sound like she was ancient of how wise she was. mostly she didn’t even listen to music from this decade and not much from the decade before this one.

she always had a book in her hands, no matter what the genre. she read everything. she liked 80s music and 80s movies and 70s music and 70s movies. she loved musical theatre, surrealism and jazz and her dream was to have a guy throw her hundreds of parties every day in hopes of one day having her attend one and then one day be received by a room full of orchids, her favourite flowers. when she reads this, she’ll get mad at me for saying orchids are her favourite flowers, because “orchids are plants, not flowers”.

truthfully, she loves a lot of things. damn, i never even knew someone who knew so much about so many things. this world was too small for her. when i looked into her eyes I saw all the truths she held inside of her, how secure and sure she was about so many things. but inside, she was also very “doubtful”, like a troubled genius, with a troubled soul and a troubled mind, way ahead of her time. she had a lot of questions, about everything, questions nobody would ask. some because would never dare to do so, others because didn’t even imagine to ask such questions, let alone have them. she was the least ignorant, most aware person I had ever known. she seemed so polished yet so careless, unbothered, effortlessly beautiful. she was amazing. out of this world.

I remember so clearly the first time I ever saw her. I had just arrived in town. It was just like one of those “pictoresc” towns you only see in movies where there’s always “the new kid”, which in this case, was me, and you just know coming in your whole life’s about to change. I wasn’t really brought here against my will but I wasn’t that excited about the idea of moving here either. truth is I hadn’t been keen on felling much in a while. I had been feeling a little numb, to be honest with you. You know when you just feel like you’re getting by but not really living, you’re not able to feel excited about anything you do because you’re not actually doing anything you love. this may be too cliche to even say but she was the one who brought me back, to life.

It was the end of summer, the week before school started

we had just arrived along with the moving trucks’ guys and as soon as we parked the car our front neighbours were outside of what was to become our new home with a fresh baked pie to welcome us. like I said, just like in the movies. 

september had just came, summer was coming to an end and school was about to start, which meant having to make new friends or committing to be an outsider but I wasn’t intending on making an effort to do neither of those things. I was going to go with the flow. 

Hi! You must be the new neighbours. I’m “Claire” and this is my husband “Ethan”. We brought you pie! 

my mom “estendeu” her hand to receive the pie and said - Yes, yes we are. I’m “Annie” and this is “Richard”, my husband, this is will, our son and this is our daughter Olivia.

Hi, Olivia. Will, you must be our son’s age, Benjamin. You know, there’s a diner near by, all the kids in town go there. You should go too. It’s the best place to meet/make people your age/friends. 

Yeah, son, you should go. - my dad told me, patting (on) my shoulder. at the time I didnt ware he was “encouraging” me to go to the place where I’d meet you. I never thanked him, either. 

But, don’t you need me to help you with the moving?

No, no, sweetie. Today we’re only doing the kitchen so we can cook dinner tonight. We’ll take care of the rest later, there’s no rush. Go.

Okay, then…

So I went. My dad helped my mom start to settle in and Olivia played in the backyard. I sat in the car and I took a deep breath before I started the car and then, I drove. It wasn’t hard finding the diner. It was a small town. It was a very cool place, aesthetically pleasing and all. It really looked like the ones from the 50s. I came in and sat at the balcony. Took a look around. The place was really filled with teenagers. Most of them weren’t even seated. They all clearly knew each other but there wasn’t a big enough booth for everyone so they would switch places and be in between tables and engaging in multiple conversations. They all looked so happy and comfortable. I guess what they say about small towns, about everyone knowing each other and everything, really is true.

It didn’t took long until one of the “diners workers” came to me. - You’re new here. Guess you’re the son of the new neighbours.

I smiled. I actually liked how kind of invasive people were here. I preferred to think they were actually interest in being involved in the lives of the people around them rather than think they (are) were just nosy. Either way, I didn’t feel bothered or uncomfortable. I felt good so far. - Yes. Yes I am. How did you know? Besides the fact that it is a small town, there are not many houses for sale here. Only from time to time. And it’s never for long. 

I guess people really like living here, huh? 

Well, why wouldn’t they? This is paradise, honey, you’ll see. You’ll meet the love of your life here.

I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, but who knows… - I smiled again.

How about just a chocolate milkshake, for now? They’re the house specialty/specialty of the house. 

Sure. I’d love one, please. 

Right away. I’m Rose by the way.

Lovely to meet you, Rose, I’m will. - she smiled at me and she turned. She wore a typical pink 50s diner costume as well as all the other workers.

She brought my milkshake and I took another look around. As soon as I looked at the door the most stunning girl I had ever seen walked in. She didn’t look at me even though I was staring at her. (Thank god.) She had long brown hair, the most dazzling eyes, also brown, and was wearing a long white flowy dress with flowers on it. Looking so unbothered, careless and confident. She went in the direction of the other kids tables and greeted everyone.

I turned around, figuring one of them would eventually find creepy that I was staring but then, she came to the balcony.

Hi Rosie, can I have the usual, please?

Hello, violet! Of course. I’ll bring it to the table in a second.

No need, I’ll eat here next to…

I felt like spitting my milkshake all over the place and say “WHAT? ME?” but I didn’t want her first impression of me to be that I was a complete dork so I said “Will”.

Hey, will. You’re the new kid, right? 

Right.

So, what’s your story? 

I don’t really have a story…

Everyone has a story - she almost ran my sentence over with hers

I’d risk saying only in towns like this interest things happen but guess mine is that I lived in “Chicago” and my mom and dad suddenly felt like moving here, so now the 4 of us all live here.

4? 

Yes, I have a younger sister.

I’m sure she’s adorable.

Sometimes.

And why where? I don’t even think “…” is on the map.

she made me chuckle - well, on their honeymoon they had a road trip and they made a wrong turn and ended up here and loved it so much they stayed here the rest of the honeymoon and they’ve been wanted to come back here since then but never did… life I guess… was always in the way

Until now…

Until now.

But wait, a road trip on a honeymoon? That’s the coolest thing.

I chuckled again. - Yes, I think so too. 

By that time she had devoured all her food and somehow managed to look very cute while doing it and continuing to question me

they stayed at a inn by the lake.

the diamond lake inn.

I didn’t really remember the name even though my parents told me about it a million times.

It’s called diamond lake because when the sun reflects on the water, it shines, like diamonds.

this really is a storybook town, it even has 50s inspired diners and everything

In fact, this diner opened in the actual 50s. They were Rosie’s parents and then they died and she started running it. She always worked here helping her parents so she couldn’t sell it when they were gone, even though it hurt her very much. It reminds her (of them very much) very much of them. 

I guess everyone really has a story.

Indeed. That’s what makes us interesting. The things that happen to us, they make us who we are.

You’re very wise.

So I’ve been told. - we were both silent for a second, I guess “digesting” the moment that had just happened. - Well, I have to go now, but you should come on saturday. We’re all going to the lake tomorrow, we’re having a bonfire at night. we’ll eat s’mores and it will be fun. you should come, that way you’ll meet everyone. I’ll introduce you.

Okay, sure, I’ll come.

Great. See you saturday. If not sooner. (she left money on the table), grabbed her purse, said goodbye to everyone and left the diner. 

The sound of the bell on the top of the door that rang when she opened it as she left was stuck in my head and all I got caught up on that “If not sooner”, what did she mean by that? 

There was no way of denying that there was something about that Violet girl. Something very interesting.

On my way home I was thinking about her and I realised she spent an hour asking me all these questions and yet I knew nothing about her. It’s not that I wasn’t interested in finding about her but she didn’t really gave me the chance, she would either in a very subtle way change subject and making that or other question about me or asking question after question. Still somehow the conversation “flew” in such a natural way

Dylan! We’re in the kitchen. - my mother yelled as soon as I opened the front door

I knew where the kitchen was because of course my mom made us all visit the house before we bought it and a couple times after that so we could all give opinions and decide which room would be what and where we’d put things and so on… My mom was very into home decor. Me on the other hand, not so much. My dad was into furniture “handcrafting”, actually, my dad was into everything handmade. My dad built furniture and made ceramic. My mom painted and managed an art gallery back in Chicago where we lived. Olivia, was into every (cartoon) disney cartoon movie ever.

My mom was sold (on the house) because of the location, first of all. My mom wanted to move there ever since her and my dad spent her honeymoon here, but they had to go back because she had still to finish college. She was only in her second year. She was an art major. In the forth and last year of her degree she got offered an internship at a local art gallery while she took her masters degree and got offered a job to work there when she got it. She loved it so much she ended up accepting it. But over the years they just realised they really wanted to live in a calmer, sunnier, warmer place and somehow their minds always went back to that place, that small town they spent their honeymoon in. So one day, they decided it was time, and we came. And here we are.

Second of all, the front porch, the picket fence, the foyer with the skylight and the kitchen nook.

The house had a big foyer with a “clarabóia” which my mom obviously loved. A big (open) kitchen and living room open space. The big kitchen with the island (countertops) were a must so we could have our famous weekly sunday brunches as well as a big couch which would later host our traditional family game nights. It’s not that we spent little time together as a family, we actually spent a lot of time together. My parents were always very present and they worked hard to be the “cool parents”.

She also painted for fun. We always encouraged her to try and sell her paintings but she always said the intention wasn’t to make money out of them, she said their only purpose was to be a way of her expressing/to express herself. Dad never went to college but was one of the most intelligent/smart people I know. He always had the best fatherly advice. He was funny and could “steal” a laugh from my mom even when she was her angriest self . She says that’s why they’re still married after 20 years (and together after 25). My mom is the single most calm, most peaceful person I know. Except when she gets really mad, it doesn’t happen that often, but when it does… man.

Liv was probably the one who was most excited about moving here. She said her colleagues from her school in Chicago weren’t nearly as smart as her. She says she wants to meet people who can match her level. She was only in second grade. 

I got to the kitchen and my mom and dad were making dinner and Olivia was setting the table

So, honey, how was it? Did you make friends already?

I made… one friend… sort of…

Really, who?

A girl… her name is violet.

A girl… named violet… that sounds like trouble, kiddo.

Honey… - my mom said, touching my father’s shoulder

we sat down at the table - anyway, she invited me to go with her and her friends, which is basically every kid in town, to the lake on saturday, they’re having a bonfire and stuff.

Oh, baby, that’s so great! That lake is so beautiful. I’m so happy… You’re going to have so much fun. I feel like we’re going to be very happy here.

We better be, you never “shut” up about this town ever since we sat our buts down in the car when we left.

There was something about this place, don’t act like you didn’t felt it to.

Oh… I know… I had fun in that lake, too…

The next day I woke up to chocolate chip pancakes. Dad’s famous chocolate chip pancakes. Because my dad worked at home, he was the one that always cooked breakfast/he always cooked breakfast.

Special pancakes for a special day. First breakfast in/on our new home. - breakfasts were a big deal in the Avery household. My parents say it’s the most important meal of the day. We loved breakfast. We loved breakfast food. My mom always said breakfast was the most important meal of the day because it set the mood for the entire day, if you started the day eating good you’d have energy to carry you through your day. Also, she always said it was important to start the day with good, positive “vibes” and that’s what we’d get in our home. Rarely ever someone would wake up cranky. In fact, rarely ever someone would be cranky at all. I loved my family. I really did.

Sit down kids. - my mom said while she poured orange juice in our cups.

So, I invited the Johnson’s for dinner tonight. Claire, Ethan and their son, Benjamin. That way you can meet him too, Dylan.

Since you’ve only met that girl yet, that is - my dad intervened

Anyway - my mom resumed her speech - you do know what means, right? - we all looked at her - Come on, guys, you know what it means! The moving guys are coming again today to help us bring the rest of the heavy stuff and move around some of the stuff.

After breakfast we "arranged" the rest of the house and after that we cleaned it. By six, we were done and my mom started cooking. At seven, the Johnson's rang our doorbell. I answered the door.

we brought you another pie. You mother said you liked the one we brought you yesterday. - I actually really did like it.  

Thank you. - I said while I grabbed the pie. 

And this is Benjamin.

Hey... It's Ben.

Nice to meet you/hi, Ben. - I laughed and we shook hands. - come, my parents and my sister are in the kitchen.

My mom was still with her apron on and as she saw the johnson’s come in to the kitchen she "sacudiu" her hands on the (front part of the) apron and she greeted our guests. - hi! I'm sorry, I just finished cooking! .... and you must be Benjamin. - she said while she took her apron off

Hello, mrs. Avery

Dylan, sweetie, why won't you show Ben your room.

Sure.

We went to my room and although I didn't consider myself a shy person I was struggling to find how the hell would I start a conversation with Ben. Finally one of us broke the ice

We're having a sort of gathering on Saturday. We're going to the lake. You should come.

Yeah. I know.

Oh, my mom told you.

No. A girl-Violet- told me.

Violet?

Yes.

You've already met violet? 

Yes.

(She's some girl...)

What do you mean?

It's like, everybody knows her, but nobody really knows her.

Kind of mysterious, huh?

I guess. Guys like it. But I've known her since we were like two so I could never look at her like that.

Do you or did you have a girlfriend back where you’re from?

I was seeing someone, but it wasn't serious. Nothing worth keeping long distance, for sure. You?

Nope. Never had one. Don't intend to. I just want to live my life, enjoy the best years of my life. Girls are trouble. I only intend on getting in trouble with them, not for them to actually give me trouble.

I guess he had a point... thing is I wanted to

“So what are your plans, now?”

“I’m going to keep doing what I have always done. Built furniture. And I’ve been pushing my wife to open her own art gallery for a long time. Now that we’re here it’s a great opportunity for her to do that”

“Yes! You should (definitely) do that. We don’t have any around here. It’d be a great addition (to the town).”

“See?” My dad said looking at my mom.

“Yes, Dylan already told me you spent your honey moon here by mistake and that’s why you ended up moving here but I’d really like to know the whole story, if you don’t mind telling it.”

“Of course we don’t, dear”, my mom said with a smile

I interrupted her. “Of course she doesn’t, she loves telling this story”

My mom gave me a side eye and continued. “So, anyway… We got married really young. Actually, shortly after we met. I had just moved to Chicago for college. I was studying, I believe it was the second night at my dorm and I broke my lamp so, and because I had little to no money, I went to a second hand/antique shop to look for the cheapest one I could find. Will was working there. I don’t really believe in love at first sight so I don’t say it was it but it was pretty close. He was shy but couldn’t stop smiling at me. When I got to my dorm I saw what I quickly figured it was his phone number and called him. We set up to meet the next friday and one month or so later we were moving together to a shoe box apartment. He proposed in december and we were married in may. Neither of us consider ourselves to be religious per say so we went to the city hall and had a small party in Will’s parent’s backyard. In/on my summer break, because we didn’t have any money, didn’t have much time either and thought ourselves to be very adventurous, decided to go on a road trip. Our initial idea was to stop by a bunch of different places, staying at cosy inns, stop by beaches and have lunch and dinner in cute places but on the first day our broke down on the way to our first stop so we had to take it to a car shop to have it fixed. The town ended up being this beautiful place and we ended up loving it and staying until the rest of our honey moon. We stayed at the DIAMOND LAKE INN. Had long swims in the lake, jumped tirelessly from the tyre swig hanged in that big tree and watched every sunset in our bathing suits. It was magical, we wanted to stay forever, but I had to go back for college, obviously. We still back for a couple summers after that but then I was offered a job at the place I was doing this/an internship and I loved what I was doing so I stayed and become harder and harder to come back and when Will was born it got even harder and when we had Olivia it just became impossible so we never came back. Life just got in the way I guess… But then we just decided we didn’t want to push it anymore and just decided to come. We sold the house, (got a good price on it) bought one here and we just came. I wasn’t worried about Olivia, I was actually more afraid because of Will but I think he’ll do/he’s going to be just fine.”

“I told you she loved telling the story… It’s a big story…”

“It’s a beautiful story.”

“Thank you, honey, I think it is, too.” My mom smiled so big. I could tell she was so happy.

(...)

A violet in a field of flowers. (I don't know if that's redundant or just cliche

Maybe Both. - we smiled. - my parents say they named me violet because they fell in love here and violet was the flower my dad picked? and gave my mother when he asked her to marry him. I just think that's a better way of saying I was conceived here

Maybe both. - we smiled again

(...)

Rosie - I told you you'd find love here. - we both smiled

(...)

[vileart]

Fish Dramaturgy: Michael O'Halloran @ Edfringe 2017

Avenue Stage Presents

Fish Food

Long before he was President, he really liked to buy hotels.

It’s 1990 in Boston. Like the Berlin Wall, Joe Bacon’s life has been reduced to rubble. On the day of his father's long-overdue burial at sea, a bizarre interview leads to a job in the basement of the Plaza Court Hotel.  

Celebrity financier Avery Grand (bestselling author of that 1980s classic The Deal Is Everything) has promised a facelift for this faded beauty, but furniture and fine wine are disappearing at an alarming rate.  

Joe finds a ready-made dysfunctional family among his rather unhinged co-workers, who will go to extreme lengths to protect their livelihoods. But will scuttling around town with unmarked bags of cash really help him get ahead

Listings Information: FISH FOOD, by Avenue Stage

Venue: Paradise in The Vault (V29)                     

Dates:  4th – 19th Aug 2017 (not 13th)                  

Times: 11.25, 5th-19th Aug (1 hour)                     

              19.25 on 4th Aug

Tickets: £7.00/£5.00

Box Office: 0131 510 0022

Online: www.avenuestage.org

What was the inspiration for this performance?

In 1989, at the age of 19, I went to work in a hotel in Boston, receiving meat and fish and produce on the loading dock. The hotel was a well-known (if somewhat faded) local institution that had recently been sold to an out-of-town group, and longtime employees were scrambling to keep their jobs. 

In the midst of this, a dashing young financier named Donald Trump blew into town for a visit, and was feted in the Grand Ballroom. I was fascinated not only by his apparently shameless narcissism (his "people" made sure his name was emblazoned on everything, from bottles of spring water to a large whole salmon) but also by the way people deferred to it so readily.

The incident stuck with me, and a year later I made it the centerpiece of a play I wrote for a creative writing class at my local university. The play was given a reading, then promptly placed in a drawer where it lay for more than 25 years. The bizarre political rise of Mr. Trump inspired me to dust it off and see if there was anything interesting in it. Over the course of a year it became "Fish Food." The themes and characters of the current version are completely different, but the core incident -- the disastrous visit of celebrity financier Avery Grand -- remains.  

Is performance still a good space for the public discussion of ideas? 

I have to say yes. I have a blind faith that putting more than ten people in a dark room and focusing their attention on a live performance is good for the individual and for the society. (I also think it's a good thing to sit in a church once a week.) That being said, most performances I go to do not foster a public discussion of ideas -- at best they are beautiful or amusing, at worst ineffective. I think sometimes beauty or amusement are enough.

From time to time, though, something strikes a nerve, and we see how dangerous performance can be. 

This has been the case recently with the Julius Caesar in New York, with the Trump-like figure as Caesar. I haven't seen it, but I was interested to know that in 2017 Shakespeare In The Park can cause abject rage. And while grand public discussion might be rare, more often than not the new plays I see are well worth a private discussion on the subway home. Good writing persists.

How did you become interested in making performance?

I was very quiet at school, but I discovered that I could be loud and confident on the stage. Growing up in the seventies and eighties, you had teachers and an educational system in the US that believed in the value of the arts. We got to try everything. We were taken to see an incredible variety of performances. I played the Duke of Ephesus at the age of 10, in a marvelous purple costume.

I also had an aunt that would take me to the theater. 

In those days Boston was still getting pre-Broadway previews, and I particularly remember seeing Christopher Plummer and Glenda Jackson in Macbeth. I think the production may have been considered a disaster, but I was fascinated. We sat near the front, and the reality of the actors sharing the space with the audience -- divided only by light -- hit home.

Is there any particular approach to the making of the show?

The play (in this version) was conceived as a circular "year in the life" of a young man, where he ends up roughly in the same place he started (if somewhat wiser). The challenge has been to get that feeling of the passage of time between scenes without marking it with obvious exposition. To that end there has been a great deal of revision led by the actors.

Does the show fit with your usual productions?

We perform in a cafe in a neighborhood where theatre-going is not the usual thing. Our audience comes for dinner and a show. Our first goal is to entertain -- to make it seem a worthwhile evening out. We have been (mostly) successful in choosing plays that hold the audience's interest enough that the themes begin to resonate. "Fish Food" certainly strives for that balance. 

What do you hope that the audience will experience?

I hope that audience members will be immersed in the story, amused by the characters, and that they will find beauty in their resilience. I also want those who experienced the era (late 80s, early 90s) to have that pleasure or recognition of an earlier time of their lives.  (I love a good frisson of nostalgia.)

What strategies did you consider towards shaping this audience experience?

We have tried to tell a very personal story in a straightforward and honest way, in the hope that it will resonate. And we tried to write good punch lines.

FISH FOOD, written by Avenue Stage co-founder Michael O’Halloran, is an eccentric ensemble comedy that chronicles a young man’s turbulent entry into the joys and sorrows of the workforce. It has delighted audiences with its quirky characters and its nostalgic look at the fashions and mores of the late eighties.  From shoulder-padded jackets to telephones with cords, FISH FOOD takes us back to an era when talk was cheap and capitalism was (almost) sexy.       

Since 2012, Avenue Stage has produced innovative theatre in a café setting in Dorchester, a working-class neighborhood on the south side of Boston. FISH FOOD, its 6th production, sold out its initial performances in May, and will enjoy a pre-Fringe run at Boston Playwrights’ Theatre in July.

www.avenuestage.org        

from the vileblog http://ift.tt/2skdtFO