The Thaumaturgy Department

(It's dramaturgy, not thaumaturgy.)

Gavin
& Drew
& Kristi
CENTERSTAGE
Baltimore
Maryland
USA

thaumaturg
Main Entry: thau·ma·turg
Pronunciation: \ˈthȯ-mə-ˌtərj\
Function: noun
Etymology: French, from New Latin thaumaturgus, from Greek thaumatourgos working miracles, from thaumat-, thauma miracle + ergon work — more at Theater, Work





The official blog of the Dramaturgy Department at Baltimore's Centerstage. Sometimes we post other things, too. If you're new around here, you can start from the beginning, and explore our posts in chronological order.

For posts related to our current and upcoming shows, click the following links: The Importance of Being Earnest, Around the World in 80 Days, Cyrano. Otherwise, browse around a bit and check out the tags for information on past and future shows, as well as whatever random contemplations and bits o' info might come to pass.

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Tidbit for you (that has existed in a “pending-posting” state for, oh, a while).

In Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac, Roxane’s duenna indicates that Roxane will be able to meet Cyrano after attending church at Saint-Roch. In Roets’ adapatation, Duenna suggests that Roxane will be attending mass at Saint-Germain.

Oh-ho?

Turns out that Saint-Roch didn’t so much exist in 1640, the year of the first four acts of Cyrano (and, you know, Cyrano de Bergerac). Construction didn’t begin until 1653, and wasn’t finished until the 1700s. Saint-Germain, on the other hand…. There are actually a couple of churches in Paris holding the name: Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois and Saint-Germain de Pres. Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois seems our likely candidate, and was well-established by the time 1640 rolled around. In fact, Saint-Germaine l’Auxerrois was fairly favored by the royals.

What’s more, it’s located near the supposed location of Ragueneau’s pastry shop, allowing a logical path for Roxane to take in stopping off to meet Cyrano and discuss her recent crush.

The church in Cyrano did exist. The church in Cyrano de Bergerac…. We-ell, not so much in reality, but we’re dealing with a work of fiction, here, and Rostand had a bit of a field day embellishing on reality. It’s all in the imaginative spirit, gives us more freedom in considering the world of the play (one the rules start to bend and shift, lud knows where one might go), and a reference to, say, a church that didn’t yet exist, isn’t likely to destroy the experience of a production.

Still. Fun to stumble over these things.

-Kristi



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Richelieu's rule remains?

Reading along, working at pinning down this Arras business, when I happened upon the following:

“Richelieu was disgraced in 1643, and he had to yield place as chief minister to Cardinal Mazarin…”

Yeah, all right. If by ‘was disgraced,’ you mean ‘was dead.’

Yes, Mazarin was up after Richelieu. Yes, Richelieu had his times of disgrace. Louis XIII wasn’t exactly thrilled to take him on in the first place (or so seems to be the case), and Richelieu had been out of favor during Louis’ early years.

Right, okay, mistakes happen. Lord knows I’m aware of the fact (And, hey-o, a sad offender). This begs a few questions, though… Was Richelieu so damned set on keeping control of France that he simply couldn’t let go? Was there some sort of ‘even DEATH shall not part us’ drama between Richelieu and France? Did Richelieu become a zombie or otherwise undead being, manipulating France behind the scenes, even as his flesh rotted (leaving some sort of, I don’t know, talking-Richelieu-skeleton)?

And, perhaps most disturbing of all: Does undead!Richelieu rule France to this very day?

Hey, maybe THAT’S why Fogg doesn’t go to Paris… I guess Verne knew what was up. He was uncommonly savvy all around, wasn’t he?

-Kristi



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[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Roxane! [or, if you prefer, Roxanne]

Tango de Roxanne

Inspired by Kristi’s ineffably free-associative set of references and links around Wilde, Verne, Murakami, and more, here is my offering: in honor of the upcoming Cyrano (or rather, more directly, of his eternal beloved, Roxane). However, it’s also taken from Moulin Rouge, which is set in Paris, not only the site of Rostand’s romance but also (despite those dire and dreadful warnings posted elsewhere here on Thaumaturgy) the natural haunts of Monsieur Jules Verne—author of Around the World in 80 Days, currently rehearsing. So there.

Now enjoy, and feel free to dance along. We won’t tell.

-ghw



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Cyrano, meet Munchausen

Since Drew has taken us down the proverbial Rabbit Hole of Méliès films, that provides an interesting intersection for another set of crossover associations with Cyrano de Bergerac: the fabulous, fabular, fabulating Baron Munchausen (or Munchhausen). Both of them longtime favorites of mine, and I’ve always thought the two had much in common as quasi-mythic literary inspirations from real-life originals who were in some respects even more incredible than their fictional manifestations. Both share qualities as tellers of tall-tales, mad monarchs of mendacity, believers in the fantastic, proponents of panache, and (if traditional illustrations like these are to be credited), proud possessors of profile-enhancing probosci. Not to mention both being, at least in imagination, lunar travelers.

Like Don Quixote and others of a small fraternity, they both challenge the omnipotent imperium of Fact, and prod the world of Empiricism that’s been working on purifying itself for centuries. They also challenge our imagination in wildly and eminently theatrical ways, so it’s no surprise that they have lent themselves to adaptation on stage and on screen.

The earliest [Baron Munchausen film] that is still viewed today [is] Georges Méliès’ Baron Munchausen’s Dream [made in 1911]. In fact the film is a titular adaptation only, narratively owing far more to Edwin S. Porter’s The Dream of a Rarebit Fiend (1906), which in turn is adapted from Winsor McCay’s turn-of-the-century comic strip, Dreams of the Rarebit Fiend. This palimpsest of cultural detritus with a topping, or titling, of Munchausen is typical of a number of the adaptations. Indeed, this is one reason why it is beneficial to view the films chronologically; as much as the Munchausen films are bound to their time and place of origin they are also self-propagating and reflexive to earlier versions.

Méliès’ Baron Munchausen’s Dream

This quoted excerpt comes from the admirably comprehensive, and fairly concise, overview provide at: http://www.horschamp.qc.ca/new_offscreen/munchausen.html. Well worth a click-through.

For the original Raspe text, accompanied by some fantastic illustrations, you can go here to read it online: http://bulfinch.englishatheist.org/baron/Baron.html.



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Glossary adventures, hurray!

As a part of this researching-for-Cyrano business, I’ve been pulling together the beginning traces of a glossary. Or something like that. What this means, then, is a lot of basic background, information of the foundation sort, and then the chasing of references major and minute, as picked out of the text. Some of the research-chasing is book-based (books treating the history of France abound, just now), some of it’s web-based, checking one sources against five or ten or fifteen others. All of it can lead down overgrown sidetrails and rabbit-holes and, hey, that’s half the fun of it; never know where the search is going to lead.

Alas and alas, all of this information doesn’t make the final cut of the glossary, or of… Well, of anything seen outside of this so-foggy land known as Dramaturgy. Random facts are shuffled aside, more extensive explanations are trimmed… And all of this is useful, perhaps necessary, because glossaries do seem to be a bit more effective in user-friendly form. Which tends to mean, ah, no fifty-page glossaries (in most cases, thank you).

What of that other information? We-ell, we have it, or someone around here has it, so there’s some personal amusement and enjoyment to be had. Since this thing called tumblr exists, however, figure we could stand to share some of the bits and pieces that come up in the fast-paced thrill of the glossary hunt. This may also give some sense of the veritable web of information (network of groundhog tunnels of information?) that grows out of a single play, the myriad ways in which a play connects to other works and information.

Hence, glossary adventures. Random information (that may or may not make the final cut) whilst searching. And for the first edition of glossary adventures, got just a few for you…

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-According to available account, Cyrano de Bergerac actually did take on a hundred men, killing several and driving away the rest. And in general, he seems to’ve been no stranger to daring deeds. Whether this was heroism, the mark of an hot-blooded and intemperate nature, or compensation for his nose (or whatever cause you might consider) is up for debate.

-Mt. Everest is known as Sagarmatha in Nepali and Chomolungma in Tibetan. The mountain wasn’t called “Everest” until 1865, when it was named after Sir George Everest, a Brit and India’s Surveyor general (prior to that, the English designation had been Peak 15).

-Louis XIV came into the monarchy at the age of four. Oh, and this would’ve been the time of absolutism in France… More on that to come, perhaps, but for the moment just gvie a big “hello!” to Richelieu and friends.

-Homing pigeons have long been used to transport messages, prove their use to this day, and were used by the military as recently as the Vietnam War (I’ve restrained myself from looking further than that for the moment, but feel free to have a go, yourself; the internet is populated with heaps upon heaps of pigeons sites).

-Cyrano references and makes use of the 1640 Siege of Arras. The factual Cyrano de Bergerac did indeed fight at Arras, and was wounded as a result.

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That’ll do for now, any rate. Presumably, these’ll eventually range from the very basic to the “ohhhh-kay” obscure, but I suppose we’ll see about that. Expect further such adventures… Whenever I feel like tossing something on here, really.

-Kristi

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Edit to note… In the original post, I’d typed “Whether this was heroism, the amrk of an hot-blooded and intemperate nature, or compensation for his nose (or whatever cause you might consider) is up for debate.” Okay, well, “amrk” has been changed to “mark.”

However.

This may not stop me from use “amrk” as a word from this point onward. Just for the record. Some typos are meant to be. (And, really, don’t ask me what that means. Just don’t. Mostly because I don’t bloody know.)



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Cyrano, rather dashing in this engraving

Cyrano, rather dashing in this engraving

Another dashing image sans massive shnoz

Another dashing image sans massive shnoz

Practicing penmanship in his nightie?

Practicing penmanship in his nightie?

Some of the many images of the historic Savinien Cyrano de Bergerac, arguably one of the two most famous Gascons to wield a sword in the service of France.

Can you name the other? Put in the notes & comments below!



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It is said that this nose brought death upon more than ten persons; that one could not look upon it, but he must unsheathe; if one looked away, it was worse; and as for speaking of Noses, that was a subject which Cyrano reserved for himself, to do it fitting honor. Curtis Hidden Page (in “Cyrano Bergerac,” found in the 1899 Doubleday and McClure edition of Cyrano de Bergerac’s A Voyage to the Moon)

Tags | cyrano

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For the record… Whether speaking of the factual individual or the fictional character popularized by Edmond Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac is often (I’d say “almost always,” but really, what do I know? “almost always,” according to what I’ve read thus far) described with some variant of the word “swashbuckler.” Or his tale is a swashbuckling tale. So much swash. So many buckles. And all for Cyrano.

I almost want to keep a running tally…

But yes. We’ve got Cyrano coming in January; a bit off in the distance, perhaps, but it’s never too early to start prepping, non? As adaptation by Jo Roets (from, of course, Rostand’s famed play), Cyrano will be performed by three actors (on to play Cyrano, two to play, oh, everyone else) in under an hour. Thing is, the adaptation doesn’t weaken the original. It’s less flowery, sure, but the tightening seems to work quite well in this case. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again… The adaptation suits Cyrano, who is himself less a man of frippery, more prone to direction action, and with a sense of the romantic that never washes out his more intrepid side.

In any case. Apparently, Cyrano goes in for the swashbuckling.

Let us all swashbuckle.

Swashbuckle, swashbuckle, swashbuckle.


Actually, whilst I’m inanely repeating the word, let’s take a look at some very basic definition and etymology links, shall we? I’m not usually one for cutting/pasting like this, so please do forgive me… Just trying to not spend the next several hours mulling this one over.

According to the online Merriam-Webster: a swaggering or daring soldier or adventurer

From the Online Etymology Dictionary: 1560, “blustering, swaggering fighting man” (earlier simply swash, 1549), from swash “fall of a blow” (see swash) + buckler

Swashbuckling (adj.) is attested from 1693. “shield.” The original sense seems to have been “one who makes menacing noises by striking his or an opponent’s shield.”

And I’m not going to chase this any further right now. Partly because, again, I could be at it all night (which isn’t such a bad thing, really), mostly because it’s time to read about the swashbuckler. WHOO.

…swashbuckle.

-Kristi



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