The reviewer here and I must have come to the theatre from different worlds, different universes perhaps.
She found little or no action in She Was My Brother by Julie Jensen, playing now at Borderlands. She’d have much preferred The Indiana 500 or Die Hard 10--a motorcycle ride across high hurtles or rafting down the Colorado--all glorious adventures indeed.
She Was My Brother offered something else entirely. Another world, another era, another pace, an alternate view of reality. That night in the theatre provided a journey not possible today in real life, possible for only the most privileged in the late 19th century.
On that stage the audience actually saw and heard white people listening to an Indian. White people with ears, something many Indians did not think possible.
We in the audience had to wonder if our world could have been different if we had listened more often, listened better. Wondered what a world without gender prejudice would have been like. A world where whites learned from Indians and Indians learned about whites rather than the way things went down.
In the theatre that night we saw a young man and a middle-aged woman change more in one scene each than we’d ever seen on the stage. We saw three characters who knew how to love. And who were able to show their love.
At the end we were not dry eyed and we could not keep to our seats. We stood, clapped and felt deep gratitude.
Recent Comments
She found little or no action in She Was My Brother by Julie Jensen, playing now at Borderlands. She’d have much preferred The Indiana 500 or Die Hard 10--a motorcycle ride across high hurtles or rafting down the Colorado--all glorious adventures indeed.
She Was My Brother offered something else entirely. Another world, another era, another pace, an alternate view of reality. That night in the theatre provided a journey not possible today in real life, possible for only the most privileged in the late 19th century.
On that stage the audience actually saw and heard white people listening to an Indian. White people with ears, something many Indians did not think possible.
We in the audience had to wonder if our world could have been different if we had listened more often, listened better. Wondered what a world without gender prejudice would have been like. A world where whites learned from Indians and Indians learned about whites rather than the way things went down.
In the theatre that night we saw a young man and a middle-aged woman change more in one scene each than we’d ever seen on the stage. We saw three characters who knew how to love. And who were able to show their love.
At the end we were not dry eyed and we could not keep to our seats. We stood, clapped and felt deep gratitude.