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Then I looked outside. It was evening, almost dark. The beers kept arriving. The fat woman who owned the bar and her boyfriend were friendly. I went outside once to fight somebody. It wasn't a good fight. We were both too drunk and there were large potholes in the asphalt surface of the parking lot that made our footing difficult. We quit I awakened much later in an upholstered red booth at the back of the bar. I got up and looked around. Everybody was gone. The clock said I tried the door, it was locked.

I went behind the bar and got myself a bottle of beer, opened it, came back and sat down. Then I went and got myself a cigar and a bag of chips. I finished my beer, got up and found a bottle of vodka, one of scotch and sat down again. I mixed them with water; I smoked cigars, and ate beef jerky, chips, and hard-boiled eggs. I drank until 5 a. I cleaned the bar then, put everything away, went to the door, let myself out.

As I did I saw a police car approach. They drove along slowly behind me as I walked. After a block they pulled up alongside. An officer stuck his head out. I went up on the porch, rang the bell. There was no answer. I rang again, several times. Finally the door opened. My mother and father stood there in their pajamas and robes.

You don't have any money! You're drunk! My Son is a Drunk! His eyebrows were wild, his face puffed and flushed with sleep. My mother screamed. My father lunged toward me. He pressed down, forcing me to bend at the waist. He was trying to force me to my knees. It was a perfect shot. He staggered back all the way across the room and sat down on the couch. I followed him over. I heard my mother. You Hit Your Father! I turned to look at her. She got the other side of my face. Blood was running down my neck, was soaking my shirt, pants, shoes, the rug. She lowered her hands and stared at me. I walked back to the bedroom thinking, I better find myself a job.

Then I took the newspaper and turned to the Help Wanted section. My face hurt; I was still sick. I circled some ads, shaved as best I could, took a few aspirin, dressed, and walked over to the Boulevard. I put my thumb out. The cars went by. Then a car stopped. I got in. We'd gone to Los Angeles City College together. What happened to your face? Timmy, I need a drink. We went in and he ordered two bottles of beer. I know a good bar in Inglewood.

We can go there. We went in and the old lady looked up from her newspaper: "Hank, don't you go getting Timmy drunk. It was Hawaiian decor, crowded. A man was on the phone: "You got to have somebody come get the truck. I'm too drunk to drive. Yes, I know I've lost the goddamned job, just come and get the truck! His conversation was O. A young blonde was glancing over and showing me leg. Timmy talked on and on. He talked about City College: how we kept wine bottles in our locker; about Popoff and his wooden guns; about Popoff and his real guns; about how we shot the bottom out of a boat in Westlake Park and sank; about the time the students went on strike in the college gym The drinks kept coming.

The young blonde girl left with someone else. The juke box played. Timmy talked on. It was getting dark. We were 86'd, walked down the street looking for another bar. It was 10 p. We could hardly stand up. The street was full of cars. A mortuary, like a colonial mansion, with floodlights, and a wide white staircase leading up to the porch. Timmy and I went about halfway up the staircase. Then I carefully stretched him out on a step. I straightened his legs and put his arms neatly down by his sides. Then I stretched out in a similar position on the step below Timmy.

I was alone. It was just getting light. It was cold. I was in my shirtsleeves. I tried to think. I got up from the hard bunk, went to the window. It was barred. There was the Pacific Ocean. Somehow I was in Malibu. The jailor came along about an hour later, banging metal dishes and trays. He passed my breakfast through to me. I sat down and ate, listening to the ocean. Forty-five minutes later I was taken outside. There was a gang of men standing handcuffed together on one long chain. I walked to the end and held out my hands. The guard said, "Not you. Two officers put me in a squad car and we drove off.

We reached Culver City and parked in back of the courthouse. One of the policemen got out with me. We walked to the back way and sat down in the front row of the courtroom. The cop took the cuffs off. I didn't see Timmy anywhere. There was the usual long wait for the judge. My case was second. Ten days or thirty dollars. The policemen took me downstairs, sat me in the back of the squad car. It was the worst traffic jam in the history of the City of Inglewood. County jail. As we left his eyes were moist. It seemed they knew one of the policemen who had asked him, "Mr.

Chinaski, what is your son doing here? To think, my own son in prison. He drove off. He was still weeping. A thing like this could kill your mother. You mean you'd dare drink right after getting out of jail for intoxication? We drove in silence. The manager was a tall ugly man with no ass. He always told me whenever he fucked his wife the night before. Get that Williams Brothers order first.

I stayed until then and moved out right afterwards. I couldn't afford the rates at home. I found a rooming house near my job. Moving wasn't hard. I only owned enough to half fill a suitcase Mama Strader was my landlady, a dyed redhead with a good figure, many gold teeth, and an aged boyfriend.

She called me into the kitchen the first morning and said she'd pour me a whiskey if I would go out back and feed the chickens. I did and then I sat in the kitchen drinking with Mama and her boyfriend, Al. I was an hour late for work. The second night there was a knock on my door. It was a fat woman in her mid-forties. She held a bottle of wine. I hear you listening to that good music all the time.

I thought I'd bring you a drink. She had on a loose green smock, and after a few wines she started showing me her legs. Martha told me her story. She was a whore. She made the bars off and on. Her main source of income was the owner of a department store. I go into his store and take anything I want. The salespeople don't bother me. He's told them to leave me alone. He doesn't want his wife to know I'm a better fuck than she is. She wasn't so hot. Soon she had the smock up around her waist and was waving her behind in my face.

The pink panties had a large hole over the right cheek. Then off came the smock and she was just in her panties. Next the panties were on the floor by the smock and she was doing a grind. Her triangle of cunt hair was almost hidden by her dangling, bouncing stomach. Sweat was making her mascara run. Suddenly her eyes narrowed.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed. She leapt on me before I could move. Her open mouth was pressed on mine. It tasted of spit and onions and stale wine and I imagined the sperm of four hundred men. She pushed her tongue into my mouth. It was thick with saliva, I gagged and pushed her off. She fell on her knees, tore open my zipper, and in a second my soft packer was in her mouth. She sucked and bobbed.

Martha had a small yellow ribbon in her short grey hair. There were warts and big brown moles on her neck and cheeks. My penis rose; she groaned, bit me. I screamed, grabbed her by the hair, pulled her off. I stood in the center of the room wounded and terrified. They were playing a Mahler Symphony on the radio.

Before I could move she was down on her knees and on me again. She gripped my balls mercilessly with both of her hands. Her mouth opened, she had me; her head bobbed, sucked, jerked. Giving my balls a tremendous yank while almost biting my packer in half she forced me to the floor. Sucking sounds filled the room as my radio played Mahler. I felt as if I were being eaten by a pitiless animal.

My pecker rose, covered with spittle and blood. The sight of it threw her into a frenzy. I felt as if I was being eaten alive. If I come, I thought desperately, I'll never forgive myself. As I reached down to try to yank her off by the hair, she clutched my balls again and squeezed them without pity. Her teeth scissored midpoint on my penis as if to slice me in two. I screamed, let go of her hair, fell back. Her head bobbed remorselessly. I was certain the sucking could be heard all over the roominghouse. She persisted with inhuman fury. I began to come. It was like sucking the insides out of a trapped snake.

Her fury was mixed with madness; she sucked at that sperm, gurgling it into her throat. She continued to bob and suck. It's over! It was as if she had been turned into an enormous all-devouring mouth. She continued to suck and bob. She went on, on. This time she got it like a vanilla malt through a straw. I collapsed. She rose and began dressing herself. She sang: "When a New York baby says goodnight - it's early in the morning goodnight, sweetheart - it's early in the morning - goodnight, sweetheart - milkman's on his way home I quit my job, took out a map of the United States and looked it over.

I decided on New York City. I took five pints of whiskey in my suitcase on the bus with me. Whenever somebody sat next to me and began talking I pulled out a pint and took a long drink. I got there. I walked out into the street with my old suitcase. It was evening. The people swarmed up out of the subways. Like insects, faceless, mad, they rushed upon me, into and around me, with much intensity.

They spun and pushed each other; they made horrible sounds. I stood back in a doorway and finished the last pint. Then I walked along, pushed, elbowed, until I saw a vacancy sign on Third Avenue. The manager was an old Jewish woman. My husband runs the tailor shop across the street. Come with me. I went with her across the street. Try the coat on. It fits You want to try the pants?

I went out for a bottle of wine. When I got back I locked the door, undressed, made ready for my first real night's sleep in some time. I got into bed, opened the bottle, worked the pillow into a hard knot behind my back, took a deep breath, and sat in the dark looking out of the window. It was the first time I had been alone for five days. I was a man who thrived on solitude; without it I was like another man without food or water. Each day without solitude weakened me. I took no pride in my solitude; but I was dependent on it. The darkness of the room was like sunlight to me.

I took a drink of wine. Suddenly the room filled with light. There was a clatter and a roar. The El ran level with the window of my room. A subway train had stopped there. I looked out into a row of New York faces who looked back. The train lingered, then pulled away. It was dark. Then the room filled again with light. Again I looked into the faces. It was like a vision of hell repeated again and again. Each new trainload of faces was more ugly, demented and cruel than the last.

I drank the wine. It continued: darkness, then light; light, then darkness. I finished the wine and went out for more. I came back, undressed, got back in bed. The arrival and departure of the faces continued; I felt I was having a vision. I was being visited by hundreds of devils that the Devil Himself couldn't tolerate. I drank more wine. Finally I got up and took my new suit out of the closet. I slipped into the coat. It was a tight fit. The coat seemed smaller than when I was in the tailor shop.

Suddenly there was a ripping sound. The coat had split open straight up the back. I took what remained of the coat off. I still had the pants. I worked my legs into them. There were buttons in the front instead of a zipper; as I tried to fasten them, the seam split in the seat. I reached in from behind and felt my shorts. Then I got drunk for two days. I moved out of my room and into Greenwich Village. One day I read in Walter Winchell's column that O. Henry used to do all of his writing at a table in some famous writers' bar.

I found the bar and went in looking for what? It was noon. I was the only patron despite Winchell's column. There I stood alone with a large mirror, the bar, and the bartender. I waited for an explanation. I mumbled something about O. Henry and left. There was a sign in the window: Help Wanted. A man with a thin mustache smiled at me. I filled out the form. A painter, you know? I've run out of money. Can't sell the stuff. Maybe you'll be famous after you're dead. I told him that I liked night work.

He said that I could begin in the subway. I met them down inside the subway where the cars were parked. I was given an armful of cardboard posters and a small metal instrument that looked like a can opener. We all climbed in one of the parked cars. He jumped up on the dusty seats, began walking along ripping out old posters with his can opener. So that's how those things get up there, I thought. People put them there. Each poster was held by two metal strips which had to be removed to get the new poster in. The strips were springtight and curved to fit the contour of the wall.

They let me try it. The metal strips resisted my efforts. They wouldn't budge. The sharp edges cut my hands as I worked. I began to bleed. For each poster you took out there was a new poster to replace it. Each one took forever. It was endless. You new in New York? Woman wanted to fuck me last night. I said, 'No, baby, nothing doing.

I told her I'd do it if she gave me five bucks. It takes five bucks worth of steak to replace that jizz. She offered me a can of Campbell's mushroom soup. The two old men climbed off the back, began to walk toward the next subway ear parked about fifty feet up the track. We were forty feet above the ground with nothing but railroad ties to walk on. I saw it wouldn't be any trouble at all for a body to slip through and fall to the ground below.

I climbed out of the subway car and slowly started stepping from tie to tie, can opener in one hand, cardboard posters in the other. A subway car filled with passengers pulled up; the lights from the train showed the way. The train moved off; I was in total darkness. I could neither see the ties nor the spaces between them. I waited. The two old guys hollered from the next car: "Come on!

We got a lot of work to do! I can't see! Step by step I went forward, slowly. When I reached the next ear I put the posters on the floor and sat down. My legs were weak. How do I get out of here? But you gotta cross a lotta tracks, you gotta watch for trains. It's the gold rail. It looks like gold. You'll see it. The two old men watched me. The gold rail was there. I stepped very high over that. Then I half-ran half-fell down the stairway. There was a bar across the street.

I was given a dirty white apron and heavy canvas gloves. The gloves were burned and had holes in them. I could see my fingers peeking through. I was given instructions by a toothless elf with a film over his left eye; the film was whiteand- green with spidery blue lines. He had been on the job nineteen years. I advanced to my post. A whistle blew and the machinery leaped into action. Dog biscuits began to move. The dough was stamped into shape and then placed on heavy metal screens with iron edges.

I grabbed a screen, placed it in the oven behind me. I turned. There was the next screen. There was no way to slow them down. The only time they stopped was when something snagged the machinery. It didn't happen often. When it did, the Elf got it going quickly. The flames of the oven leaped fifteen feet high. The inside of the oven was like a ferris wheel. Each ledge held twelve screens. When the oven man me had filled a ledge he kicked a lever which turned the wheel one notch, bringing down the next empty ledge. The screens were heavy.

ANGEL AIR RECORDS, THE COURAGE OF THE “MUSIC HERITAGE”: INTERVIEW WITH PETER PuRNELL

Lifting one screen could tire a man. If you thought about doing it for eight hours, lifting hundreds of screens, you'd never make it. Green biscuits, red biscuits, yellow biscuits, brown biscuits, purple biscuits, blue biscuits, vitamin biscuits, vegetable biscuits. On such jobs men become tired. They experience a weariness beyond fatigue. They say mad, brilliant things. Out of my head, I cussed and talked and cracked jokes and sang. Hell boils with laughter. Even the Elf laughed at me. I worked for several weeks.

Bukowski-Factotum

I came in drunk each night. It didn't matter; I had the job nobody wanted. After an hour at the oven I was sober. My hands were blistered and burned. Each day I sat aching in my room pricking my blisters with pins I first sterilized with matches. One night I was drunker than usual. I refused to punch in.

The Elf was in trauma. Then I let him go. The nearest bar was fifty years old. You could smell the odor of urine, shit and vomit of a half century as it came up through the floor into the bar from the restrooms below. It was in the afternoon. Two men were fighting in the center of the bar. The guy to the right of me said his name was Danny. To the left, he said his name was Jim. Danny had a cigarette in his mouth, end glowing. An empty beerbottle looped through the air. It missed his cigarette and nose, fractionally. He didn't move or look around, tapped the ashes of his cigarette into a tray.

Come that close again, you got a fight on your hands! There were women in there, a few housewives, fat and a bit stupid, and two or three ladies who had fallen on hard times. As I sat there one girl got up and left with a man. She was back in five minutes. How do you do it? Another jumped up to try her. I gotta have some! Helen was back in five minutes. An old geezer with a big belly walked up. And a bottle of beer while I'm waiting. A shot of whiskey appeared.

I drank it down. Another appeared. A young fellow of about twentyfour came down from the end of the bar. Billy-Boy had married the owner of the bar. She was forty-five. He brought me two buckets, some suds, rags and sponges. I took the blinds down, removed the slats, and began. I cut my hands several times on the edges of the metal slats. The soapy water burned.

The patrons of the bar turned to look at my work. I took down another set of blinds, pulled out the slats. I beat Jim at the pinball machine for a quarter, then emptied the buckets in the crapper and got fresh water. The second set went slower. My hands collected more cuts. I doubt that those blinds had been cleaned in ten years. I won another quarter at the pinball then Billy-Boy hollered at me to go back to work.

Helen walked by on her way to the women's crapper. Will that cover? If you can still stand up, then you can have it for nothing! All you people hear that? I drank it and went to work. I drove myself on. After a number of whiskeys I had the three sets of blinds up and shining. The party room. There were three more windows, three more sets of blinds.

I pulled the slats out, put them on a table and stared at them. Jim stopped on his way to the crapper. He began cleaning the blinds. When I got back one of the girls was taking down a set of blinds. A few minutes later there were four or five people back there talking and laughing, even Helen.

They were all working on the blinds. Soon nearly everybody in the bar was back there. I worked in two more whiskeys. Finally the blinds were finished and hanging. It hadn't taken very long. They sparkled. Billy-Boy came in: "I don't have to pay you. We moved to the bar. After the last one I looked around. Helen had slipped out. Helen had lied. Just like a bitch, I thought, afraid of the long hard ride I got up and walked back to my roominghouse. The moonlight was bright. My footsteps echoed in the empty street and it sounded as if somebody was following me. I looked around.

I was mistaken. I was quite alone. Louis it was very cold, about to snow, and I found a room in a nice clean place, a room on the second floor, in the back. It was early evening and I was having one of my depressive fits so I went to bed early and somehow managed to sleep. When I awakened in the morning it was very cold.

I was shivering uncontrollably. I got up and found that one of the windows was open. I closed the window and went back to bed. I began to feel nauseated. I managed to sleep another hour, then awakened. I got up, dressed, barely made it to the hall bathroom and vomited. I undressed and got back into bed. Soon there was a knock on the door. I didn't answer. The knocking continued. One was a bit on the fat side but scrubbed, shining, in a flowery pink dress.

She had a kind face. The other wore a wide tight belt that accentuated her very good figure. Her hair was long, dark, and she had a cute nose; she wore high heels, had perfect legs, and wore a white low cut blouse. Her eyes were dark brown, very dark, and they kept looking at me, amused, very amused. Are you sick? But it's nothing serious, I'm sure.

An open window. Downing, the landlady, is making you some soup. Hilda remained where she was, pink and scrubbed and blushing. Gertrude pivoted back and forth on her very high heels. He has the most beautiful hands. You can see that he has never worked. Downing, knocked. She was large and pleasant. I imagined that her husband was dead and that she was religious. She carried a large bowl of beef broth, holding it high in the air. I could see the steam rising. I took the bowl. We exchanged pleasantries. Yes, her husband was dead.

She was very religious. There were crackers, plus salt and pepper. Downing looked at both of the girls. We hope you get well soon. And I hope the girls haven't bothered you too much? She liked that. Downing left the door open. Hilda managed one last blush, gave me the tiniest smile, then left. Gertrude remained. She watched me spoon the broth in. All this Her buttocks moved under her tight black skirt; her legs were golden. At the doorway she stopped and turned, rested her dark eyes on me once again, held me. I was transfixed, glowing.

The moment she felt my response she tossed her head and laughed. She had a lovely neck, and all that dark hair. She walked off down the hall, leaving the door ajar. I took the salt and pepper, seasoned the broth, broke thecrackers into it, and spooned it into my illness. Even during World War II when there was supposed to be a manpower shortage there were four or five applicants for each job. At least for the menial jobs. We waited with our application forms filled out. Draft status? Last job? Last jobs?

Why did you leave? I had filled out so many job forms that long ago I had memorized the right answers. Having gotten out of bed quite late that morning I was the last to be called. A bald man with strange tufts of hair over each ear interviewed me. And I'm halfway through a novel. What's it about? You mean, for instance, it's about cancer? Why do you want to work in a ladies' dress shop?

He handed it back. The walls were painted yellow. We packed our ladies' dresses into oblong cardboard boxes about three feet long and a foot or a foot and a half wide. A certain skill was needed in folding each dress so that it did not become creased in the carton. To prevent this we used cardboard fillers and tissue, and were given careful instructions. The U. Mail was used for out of town deliveries. Per Bartlett, autore tra le altre di Leggi…. Siamo nella New York City del Fred, giovane scrittore, incontra Holly Leggi….

Siamo nel e, durante un weekend di Leggi…. Come tutti sapete, Daniel Day Lewis ha battuto tutti i record vincendo il terzo Oscar come miglior attore con la sua meravigliosa interpretazione del presidente americano Lincoln. Complimenti a lui, a Spielberg, Leggi…. Un prigioniero o un agente segreto? Un amante o uno stupratore? Un camaleonte o un Leggi…. Catherine ha 27 Leggi…. Il drammaturgo e scrittore tedesco Jakob Arjouni ci ha lasciati il 17 gennaio scorso.

Aveva solo 48 anni ed era malato di tumore al pancreas. Arjouni aveva 21 anni quando scrisse il Leggi…. A powerful and hypnotic drama: ottime le critiche di Peter Brown e di tutta la critica inglese per la nuova produzione di The Judas Kiss di David Hare, in scena a Londra Leggi…. La commedia, scritta e andata in scena nel Leggi…. Costellazioni parla della relazione uomo-donna, ispirandosi alle idee della teoria del caos. In Leggi….

Non dimenticate di visitare regolarmente la nostra sezione dei libri! Constellations ha avuto infatti un grande successo di pubblico e di critica, leggete Leggi…. Eppure, The River di Jez Butterworth, sembra esserci riuscito. Le critiche inglesi uscite dopo la prima mondiale del Royal Court sono tutte assolutamente Leggi…. Veniteci a trovare! Dal 27 dicembre al Leggi…. The most glorious comedy on the planet Daily Mail, March Of all the feel-good shows in London, this is the funniest.

The Happy Leggi…. Rifuggendo da un mondo che rifiuta, Robin trova Leggi…. Qui sotto il trailer del libro da cui Leggi…. A remote cabin on the cliffs, a man and a woman, and a moonless night. Two Plays, two audiences, two theatres… one cast! Si tratta, a tutti gli effetti, di due commedie distinte, Leggi….

Una versione contemporanea del grande classico di Euripide ad opera di Mike Bartlett, una prima mondiale densa di aspettative. Julia era una ragazza prodigio, veniva chiamata little Miss Mozart, musicista di grande talento che inspiegabilmente si suicida. Il padre, Joe, non Leggi…. La commedia di Leggi…. Una farsa delirante e irresistibile Leggi…. Via Dolorosa non Leggi…. Si sono da poco concluse con grande successo di pubblico e critica le repliche al Royal Court della commedia Love, Love, Love di Mike Bartlett.

La commedia spazia dagli anni sessanta ai Leggi…. Buone le critiche per lo spettacolo che ha debuttato lo scorso 24 maggio a New York, My Children! My Africa! Lo spettacolo, scritto nel poco dopo la fine Leggi…. La Spagna degli Ottanta, nel periodo del Leggi…. Come potete leggere nella precedente notizia, Once ha vinto ben tre Outer Critics Circle awards; ma i premi non si fermano qui: sono stati resi noti i vincitori dei Drama League Awards Leggi…. Nel , ha esordito come attore e coautore dello spettacolo Beyond the Fringe e nel , Leggi….

Hector, il professore di inglese e Leggi…. Lo scorso 17 Aprile sarebbe stato il compleanno del grandissimo Thornton Wilder! La Leggi…. Stasera Ovulo, la commedia briosa e intelligente scritta da Carlotta Clerici e vincitrice del Premio Calandra come miglior spettacolo e migliore interprete! Tre gli spettacoli che questa Leggi…. Dello spettacolo, con la regia Leggi…. Vi Leggi…. La commedia spazia Leggi…. Per foto e per maggiori informazioni Leggi…. Ci siamo quasi! Con Nino Leggi….

Il libretto di questa nuova opera musicale, diretta da John Carne e che si preannuncia Leggi…. Diretto da Leggi…. Se Tim Crouch ci aveva abituati al suo teatro di provocazione, che a molti ha dato fastidio per esempio col suo ormai famoso The Author che trattava temi scomodi e scabrosi, con Leggi…. La famosa commedia di Alan Bennett, drammaturgo e sceneggiatore amatissimo in patria e autore del clamoroso successo The History Leggi….

Sono entrambe aspiranti suicidi. Sono giovani, belle e intelligenti, e, come gran parte delle donne giovani, belle e intelligenti, naturalmente… single! Una produzione del Donmar Warehouse, in scena fino al prossimo 31 dicembre! Ci siamo, ci siamo quasi! Il prossimo 14 novembre debutta al prestigioso teatro Almeida il divertente Reasons to be Pretty di Neil LaBute, diretto dallo stesso autore.

I teatri di Londra hanno finalmente annunciato i cartelloni della loro nuova stagione! Jamie e Dee hanno 17 anni e sono entrambe in prigione. Le due ragazze, di bassa estrazione Leggi…. Potete godervi qui una divertente intervista Leggi…. Sono quasi tentato di dichiarare che senza Pinter, La Morte e la Fanciulla non sarebbe esistito nella sua forma attuale. Il Leggi…. Adesso questo inedito, Leggi…. Vi ricordate il film, The Hole? Poteva mancare la versione Leggi….


  1. Das Wohngeld - Ein Ratgeber (German Edition).
  2. Mega by eternautafumetti - Issuu.
  3. La haine de la parole (LIENS QUI LIBER) (French Edition).
  4. ANGEL AIR RECORDS, IL CORAGGIO DELLA TRADIZIONE: INTERVISTA CON PETER PURNELL?

Ha forse bisogno di presentazioni, Agatha Christie? Chi di noi non ha letto, almeno una volta nella vita e con Leggi…. Questa prima produzione, diretta da Leggi…. Enda Walsh is one of the most dazzling wordsmiths of contemporary theatre. Due Leggi…. Uno spettacolo straordinario, una produzione davvero impeccabile e intelligente che ha suscitato Leggi…. Siamo molto addolorati per la recente scomparsa di una grande collega, Flavia Danesi Tolnay. Ma Leggi…. Bellissime critiche e grande successo di pubblico a un mese dal debutto dello storico revival Chicken Soup With Barley!

Siete al mare in Liguria? Anthony Neilson ci ha abituati ad una drammaturgia incentrata sul disagio psichico. Ha poi debuttato lo scorso anno a Broadway, dopo lo Leggi…. Protagonisti Leggi…. Una rivisitazione tutta personale del capolavoro goldoniano Il servo di due padroni. Attendiamo il suo debutto per potervi dare Leggi…. Pubblico e critica sono concordi nel decretare il successo di Love, Love, Love la commedia di Mike Bartlett — giovane e promettente drammaturgo britannico.

La commedia spazia dagli anni sessanta ai giorni Leggi…. I Drama Desk Awards sono stati finalmente celebrati lo scorso 23 maggio: Che dire? Il premio Nobel per la letteratura ci Leggi…. The kettle boils in as the fascists are marching. Tea is brewed in , with disillusion in the air at the end of the war. Twenty years on, in , as Leggi…. Sono state rese note le nomination ai prossimi Tony Awards, e siamo orgogliosi di annunciare che tra i candidati ci sono: — Jerusalem di Jez Butterworth come Best New Play e non Leggi….

Come vi avevamo annunciato, ha debuttato lo scorso 2 aprile Jerusalem, del britannico Jez Butterworth, a Broadway. Al bordo di una piscina vuota, quattro Leggi…. Quando William Mastrosimone scrive una storia, ama attingere dalle sue esperienze personali e dalle persone che incontra nella vita reale. Il capolavoro assoluto di David Auburn, Proof — La formula sta per andare in scena a Londra al Greenwich Playhouse, dal prossimo 3 Maggio: Catherine sta per compiere 25 anni e la Leggi….

Julia era una ragazza prodigio, veniva chiamata little Miss Mozart, musicista di grande talento che inspiegabilmente si Leggi…. La stagione si apre con la prima mondiale di My City Leggi…. Spirito Leggi…. La commedia era Leggi…. Sono state rese note le nominations del 35esimo premio Laurence Olivier! Cari Amici, Recentemente, leggendo il link di Repubblica ho appreso che Natalia Koliada e Nikolai Khalezin ora si trovano in serio pericolo. Dopo la manifestazione contro il presidente eletto bielorusso Lukashenko, ho Leggi….

Gli spettacoli riprenderanno nello Leggi…. Acclamatissima da pubblico e critica, Leggi…. La seconda parte del dramma epico Angels in America ritorna, portata in scena da Ferdinando Bruni ed Elio de Capitani. La compagnia dissidente bielorussa che, con lo spettacolo di stasera, chiude le sue performances in italia vi ricordiamo che sono stati la settimana scorsa al Teatro Franco Parenti di Milano, e dal Leggi…. Una Leggi….

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Evviva, evviva! Un capolavoro, anzi due, dal genio Leggi…. Licia Maglietta porta Alan Bennett a Milano. Al Teatro Franco Parenti di Milano, fino al 5 dicembre! Lo struggente film del diretto da Pedro Leggi…. Anna Bolena, la vita di una grande eroina inglese — vista, tradizionalmente, sia come la bella e virtuosa vittima di un marito tiranno, sia come una riformatrice ambiziosa e assetata di potere.

Tre coppie separate, tre uomini e tre donne. Uno dei maggiori successi Leggi…. La nuova, clamorosa, opera di Martin Sherman ha finalmente debuttato lo scorso 12 ottobre a Londra. Nei panni del miliardario uno straordinario Robert Lindsay! Gli ultimi sette anni di vita del ricco Leggi…. Dicono dello spettacolo: This is a rare Leggi…. Noi vi Leggi…. Siamo felici che adesso sia tornato ad essere un uomo libero e che si Leggi…. Una deliziosa casa di campagna nei dintorni di Londra. Un fine settimana di luglio del Leggi….

Anche Google ha festeggiato i anni dalla nascita di Agatha Christie, lo scorso 15 settembre. Non avevamo dubbi, pubblico e critica non si sono risparmiati nel manifestare il loro apprezzamento per Leggi…. Si comincia con una nuova produzione di Angels in America, il capolavoro epico di Leggi….

Prossimamente qui… su queste pagine… il programma del Fringe Festival ! Restate sintonizzati…. Riparte il pluripremiato spettacolo di Carlotta Clerici interpretato da Antonella Questa. Le prossime date estive saranno: 24 Giugno: Teatro F. Lo potrete vedere prossimamente dal vivo nel bellissimo monologo teatrale candidato Leggi…. Nel aveva solo 19 anni quando Polly Stenham sconvolgeva il mondo del teatro con la sua prima commedia, That Face, grazie alla quale ricevette la nomination per il premio Olivier, vinse Leggi….

Finalmente va in scena la seconda parte, Perestroika, sempre ambientata nella New York febbrile Leggi…. Lo spettacolo ha debuttato in prima nazionale al Festival di Todi e Leggi…. Il successo della piece tratta da La Sensale Leggi…. In un antico porto isolano, sette vecchie — madri Leggi…. Questa divertentissima comedy of manners del Leggi…. Claudio Santamaria torna sul palcoscenico, e lo fa con uno spettacolo difficile e ambizioso: La Notte poco prima della Foresta.

Non sta dalla parte della morte. E la morte Leggi…. Sono state annunciate le nominations ai prossimi Laurence Olivier Awards! Lo spettacolo ha debuttato per la prima volta a New York nel con Leggi…. Con la macchina in panne, Traps cerca aiuto e lo trova in un gruppo di Leggi….

Scritta nel da Tom Leggi…. La Roundabout Company ha annunciato il cast completo per il nuovo revival prossimamente in scena a Broadway di Present Laughter, con Victor Garber diretto da Nicholas Martin.


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  • Present Laughter da noi, Il Leggi…. I have the choice to continue. I have the choice to stop. Noi spettatori siamo sempre responsabili, siamo complici di cosa viene o non viene visto sulla scena. E anche se chiudiamo Leggi…. Dopo il clamoroso successo ottenuto a Sydney dove hanno dovuto estendere le repliche fino al 3 ottobre! Sia il Leggi…. Bella la regia, azzeccate Leggi…. In uno sperduto paese della Pampa argentina, siamo negli anni Trenta, si svolgono le vite di Leggi….

    Diretto da Nicholas Hytner, si vocifera Leggi…. Visto per voi: fondi bianchi, accecanti, su cui si staglia la montagna nera di cemento che inghiotte Winnie. Stasera Ovulo, commedia briosa e intelligente con Antonella Questa e scritta da Leggi…. E menomale che non ci Leggi…. Biglietti esauriti a Londra per la Wallace Shawn Season, la rassegna dedicata al grande autore americano.

    Ma niente paura: gli spettacoli e le letture verranno prorogati di ben due settimane per consentire Leggi…. Oggi vogliamo parlarvi della Fondazione Europea Robert F. La RFK Foundation organizzazione non profit nata nel a Roma per sostenere la lotta per i diritti umani a livello internazionale. Iniziativa principale della Robert F. Sono state finalmente rese note le opere candidate ai Tony Awards ! Alle persone che hanno perso una casa e tutto quello che avevano, alle persone che hanno perso familiari Leggi….

    Ecco come la commedia — Leggi…. Grande successo per la prima mondiale del nuovo lavoro del premio Pulizer Sam Shepard. Dal Signore degli Anelli ai palcoscenici della Capitale spagnola: per Viggo Mortensen e la bella e brava attrice catalana Ariadna Gil stanno per cominciare le prove di Purgatorio. La commedia, ispirata dal sito Leggi…. Interpretato dallo stesso Alessandro Gassman e Leggi…. Ci siamo! La vicenda ruota attorno al personaggio di Garry Essendine, attore di successo, carismatico e bizzarro, mentre si prepara ad affrontare Leggi….

    Siamo nella New York del , una giuria popolare composta da dodici uomini, di Leggi…. Dal 7 ottobre al 2 Novembre in scena al Teatro Manzoni di Milano. Thornton Wilder scrittore, saggista, drammaturgo e sceneggiatore americano, nato a Madison Wisconsin il 17 Aprile e morto nel La piece, rappresentata a lungo negli USA, ha conosciuto una versione cinematografica sotto la regia Leggi….

    Ma fervono Leggi…. La soprano con una Leggi…. Si sa, il teatro a Londra non chiude mai per ferie! Come non amare il musical? In scena al Vitoria Palace Leggi…. Nasce dalla follia Leggi….

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    I suoi adattamenti sono ripetutamente rappresentanti in Inghilterra in produzioni di ogni livello. Tra Leggi…. La produzione del National Theatre continua il suo tour in Gran Bretagna: questo mese sono in Leggi…. Londra, capitale del teatro europeo offre spettacoli per tutti i gusti. Due classici intramontabili, per gli amanti del brivido: lo splendido horror The Woman in Black di Stephen Mallatratt, dal romanzo di Leggi…. Con Leggi…. La Reverie Leggi…. Questo classico della Leggi…. Finalmente sono in vendita i biglietti per God of Carnage di Yasmina Reza. Il dramma o Leggi….

    Smettila di piangere, Penelope, di Anglio, Puget e Leggi…. Per informazioni si rimanda a www. La trasposizione teatrale di sceneggiature cinematografiche sembra andare molto di moda al West End. Find out more or adjust your settings. This website uses cookies so that we can provide you with the best user experience possible. Cookie information is stored in your browser and performs functions such as recognising you when you return to our website and helping our team to understand which sections of the website you find most interesting and useful.

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