Tuesday, August 29, 2017
M744 Ebook Get Free Ebook Danny and the Deep Blue Sea An Apache Dance by John Patrick Shanley
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Book by John Patrick Shanley
- Sales Rank: #528564 in Books
- Brand: Brand: Dramatists Play Service, Inc.
- Published on: 1984-10-01
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 7.50" h x 5.25" w x .25" l, .10 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
- 40 pages
- Used Book in Good Condition
Most helpful customer reviews
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
This is a brilliant play, written by a dark
By Bret
This is a brilliant play, written by a dark, clever playwright. This moment in time for two lost, desperate, crazed souls will capture your attention and hold it. I wish there were more to read about Danny and Roberta.
17 of 20 people found the following review helpful.
Danny and the Deep Blue Sea
By Gina Ewing
In this time of politically correct language and the sexes being afraid to speak for fear of being accused of sexual harrassment, Danny and the Deep Blue Sea is crudely refreshing, if not humbling. Danny and Roberta are the kinds of people that the BMW and Lexus set pass, with out the slightest awareness of the lives some people lead. Danny and Roberta both struggle with their demons and on this one night, in which the play takes place, they hold an emotional exorsism. Both emotionally handicaped, both blunt, almost vulgar in their use of the english language, find each other and begin to heal the wounds...in their own way. For one night, a porch light becomes the moon, two people beyond innocence become innocent again, and both find a few hours of unconditional love. J. Shanley doesnt make Danny and Roberta overnight, insightful psychologist. He lets them use their insticts,---guts. They touch each other because they are not fancy people. They are simple and the answers to their healing are simple.
4 of 4 people found the following review helpful.
One of my all-time favorite plays!
By Drama Mama
I love this play. Its a wonderful showcase piece for actors as well since it only has two characters. Its raw, brutal, funny, sweet and both characters are wonderfully flawed and lovable in their unique ways. As with all John Patrick Shanley plays, the characters are richly full of "stuff" that makes actors want to play them.
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Friday, March 10, 2017
Dropping my Sketchbook into the Sea
Dropping my Sketchbook into the Sea
[by Lynne Chapman, from Sheffield, UK, on location at Robin Hoods Bay]
When ever we visit Robin Hoods Bay, I always get excited by the shadow shapes created on the cliffs, because of the extreme erosion all along that section of coast. It makes for an interestingly ragged skyline too, where the top and edges sink and crumble. At this time of year, its pretty quiet too, just a few dog-walkers in big coats. As I came to the end of my painting, it started to spit with rain. A big cloud was looming, so I retreated back to civilisation for a warming pot of tea and a sandwich.
After lunch, things brightened up, but I had to battle increasingly strong winds, trying to snatch the sketchbook from my hand, especially as I couldnt resist folding my concertina out so I could work across 3 pages at a time. The disaster struck when I was half way through a painting at the very end of one of my 2 metre long books (I was trying to fill up the final concertina I did in China). While I was waiting for the paint to dry, I thought Id start another sketch, so I carefully wedged the drying book between my rucksack and the boulder I was sitting on, and got out a new sketchbook.
I had just made the first paint mark, when a particularly violent gust of wind bashed me from behind. I just managed to keep hold of the book in my hand, but the wedged sketchbook wasnt so lucky. Plus, the leverage of the wind against the book toppled my rucksack forward from the rock. To my horror, both book and rucksack landed in the deep rock pool.
Panic. The trouble was, my hands were full and anything I put down would be flung down the beach in the still crazy wind. I sacrificed the rucksack to the water and managed to grab one end of the sketchbook as it went in, whisking it out again really fast. I was left trying to juggle the madly-flapping, dripping concertina, a loaded paintbrush and paint-filled pallet, as well as the other sketchbook. The wet sketchbook was trying to rip itself in half. Paint, sea and sand were going everywhere.
I yelled HELP! HELP!!!
It was very lucky for me that John was not far along the beach, poking around, looking for fossils. He leapt to the rescue. He yanked the rucksack out of the water with and then took the wet sketchbook off me. Miraculously, the bulk of the work was unharmed: amazing, given it was all watercolour or watercolour pencil sketches. Some of the paint on the final sketch had still been wet when it was dunked though, so that image got partially washed away, as you can see above.
I was never able to finish it off though, because of what happened next...
While John chivalrously stood holding out the length of unfolded, wet sketchbook, to dry in the wind, I finished off the other painting Id just started. This is it above: you can see the moment of the drama recorded in the sharp ochre line which runs up into the sky on the far right.
We were just breathing a sigh of relief. The sketchbook was saved, as was the phone, which I had forgotten was in the submerged rucksack, and Id finished off my painting without quite freezing solid. Then I looked round. The sea had been coming in behind me. The very second I realised how close the water was, it swirled around the boulder I was sitting on and covered my boots!
The panic, the scrambling with paint, sea, sand, rucksack and sketches, trying to lift everything out of the advancing water with our hands already full of my sketchbooks, was an almost exact replica of the first time, except there were two of us yelling this time. We avoided a repeat of the sketchbook dunking, but it was a close thing.
Back on terra-firma, I had to wash sand out of my palette and paint off my face. I was crunching sand between my teeth for the next hour (from putting the brush into my mouth that Id previously poked into the sand. Duh). We retreated to the house to warm up. No lasting harm done. Phew.
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