Occasionally, we all need a quick shot of perspective to remind us that life really isn’t as bad as it could be. For me, that came yesterday, when I met Joe D’Ambrosio.
Joe, from Ohio, was speaking at the autumn conference of LifeLines, about his experience of spending 22 years on death row for a crime he didn’t commit. He was finally exonerated and released in 2010, and his lack of resentment and anger against the people who put him in prison – and still believe him to be guilty – is amazing.
With Joe was Father Neil Kookoothe, a priest who’s also a qualified lawyer and nurse, who agreed to help Joe prove his innocence when nobody else would. Not surprisingly, the two men are incredibly close friends, and although they make quite the comedy double act, it’s obvious how much they mean to each other.
If Neil had refused to help Joe, it’s likely he wouldn’t be alive today, and almost certainly wouldn’t be free, and this, more than anything I heard yesterday, really made me think. I hope I’ll never be in a position where someone needs that kind of decision from me – but if I am, I hope I’ll make the right choice.
In case that’s a bit serious for anyone, in other news, this week I got accepted as a blogger for a theatre website. Hurrah!
Joe D’Ambrosio (sitting) and Father Neil Kookoothe (at the lectern)
The other day, our local pub quiz had a round on the TV show, Friends. As we raced towards a perfect score of 10/10, it briefly occurred to me that I probably should have got out more during my 20s. But then I figured, Friends was brilliant, so who cares?
Apparently we’re coming up to the 20th anniversary of the first ever episode. This makes me feel very old (you know Ross’s son Ben would be 19 now – whaaat?). But it’s also brought back some great memories of what has to be one of my favourite TV shows of all time.
Even after the series finished in 2004, British TV channel E4 continued to broadcast it several times a day, every day, for another seven years. It was always on at about 7 p.m., when my housemates and I were arriving home from work, so it naturally became our dinner-time viewing (well, unless Batman was on – but that’s another story). After a while, not only had I seen every episode several times, I could quote most of the dialogue, and whatever happened in my life, could usually be heard saying, ‘It’s like that time in Friends, when…’
I started trying to list my favourite Friends moments, but it was taking too long, and I kept remembering new ones. I didn’t want to leave anything good out, so I asked for help on Facebook. Here’s what we came up with between us:
1. Pivot!
Episode: The One With the Cop
Ross, Rachel and Chandler try to move a sofa, with limited success. No matter how many times I move house, or buy furniture, I don’t think it’ll ever actually be possible for me to move a sofa without shouting ‘Pivot!’
2. Unagi (contributed by Ioana)
Episode: The One With Unagi
‘Ah… salmon skin roll.’ Not a type of eel, but a sense of total awareness. So you’re always ready when someone yells ‘DANGER!’ – or you fancy sushi.
3. Rachel’s cat
Episode: The One With the Ball
Is it a snake? A chicken? A minion of the Antichrist? Or just inside out? One thing we can all agree on – ‘it’s not a cat!’
4. Monica and Ross tell on each other (contributed by Andrea)
Episode: The One Where Ross Got High
Some of my favourite episodes involve Ross and Monica’s family history. This is a great example, which I’d totally forgotten about. Chandler finds out Monica’s parents don’t like him, because Ross told them he smoked pot in college. This leads to a lot of secrets being revealed in a very short time.
Incidentally, this episode also featured another of my favourite moments – Rachel’s ‘traditional English trifle’. What do you get when you make half a trifle and half a shepherds pie? A dessert that tastes like feet, apparently.
5. Miss Chanandler Bong
Episode: The One With The Embryos
Note to self: never bet your apartment on a ‘how well do you know your friends’ quiz, especially if you don’t know what one of them does for a living. Life was so much simpler once Chandler quit his mysterious job as a ‘transponster’ (‘that’s not even a word!!’) and got into advertising instead.
6. When Ross is fine (contributed by Helen)
Episode: The One Where Ross Is Fine
You know when Ross really isn’t fine, because his voice gets all high and squeaky. My favourite bit of this episode is the little flamenco move that goes with the margaritas.
7. The flashbacks
Episode: Various
Between fat Monica, Rachel’s old nose, Ross’s keyboard and Chandler’s little toe, the flashbacks were brilliant and gave us all hope that however hopeless we might have been as teenagers, one day we’d end up living in a huge apartment in New York, working in our ideal job and meeting the man of our dreams across the hall. Hmm – still waiting…
8. Joey’s Jewish audition (contributed by Safia)
Episode: The One With Ross and Monica’s Cousin
When Joey’s meant to be Jewish (if you know what I mean), but isn’t, so Monica has to get creative. What could go wrong?
Well, this:
9. Ross’s rage
Episode: The One With Ross’s Sandwich
‘My sandwich? MY SANDWICH?!’ I work in an office with a communal kitchen, and as in every workplace, sometimes people’s food disappears. Next time someone steals my lunch, I’m totally reacting like this. Never has a man having a breakdown been so hilarious.
10. Joey’s foam finger (contributed by Katie)
Episode: The One Where Everyone Is Late
When the gang all try to come up with excuses for being late to Thanksgiving Dinner, to appease Monica, Chandler and ‘the vein’. Joey’s foam finger enrages Ross (‘for the love of God, take it off!’) but my personal highlight in this episode has to be the floating heads.
I know there are loads of great Friends moments I haven’t mentioned – babies, weddings, Phoebe’s music, Chandler’s sarcasm, Joey’s adorable stupidity – so please feel free to add your own, either here, or head over to the Facebook page to join the discussion. And thanks to everyone who contributed to this post 🙂
Also, this ‘which Friends character are you‘ quiz is fun – although I’m not sure it’s very accurate. I got Monica, and I’ve always thought I was more of a Chandler. But I do have certain obsessive tendencies, so maybe there’s something in it…?
I’ve just got home from another theatre trip, this time to see Twelve Angry Men, which, sadly, closes in a few days – otherwise I’d recommend that you all go and see it. It was an early birthday present from my sisters, and it was so brilliant that I’m writing this review now, when I should probably be going to bed like a normal person.
The play is about a jury in 1950s America, as they try to reach a unanimous verdict in the case of a teenage boy accused of murdering his father. What seems to be an open and shut case soon turns out to be much more complicated than it appears. While eleven of the men come into the room ready and willing to pass a guilty verdict, one, while by no means convinced of the boy’s innocence, nonetheless requests that they take the time to consider their decision, since a guilty verdict will condemn the prisoner to execution in the electric chair.
You might think that twelve men in a room talking would be boring. Not at all – although I will say that if you prefer your theatre with action and/or lots of singing and dancing, this may not be to your taste. The deliberations of the jury reveal more about the men themselves than about the boy they’re judging, who we never see; they’ve all brought their own prejudices and emotional baggage into the room with them, and allow these to impact on the decisions they make. The result is a tension so great that, far from being bored, I ended up on the edge of my seat, and, rather embarrassingly, jumped a mile at one point when there was a sudden clap of thunder on stage.
In a play with no set changes, there was one ingenious touch – the jury table, which begins end-on to the audience, with the foreman at the far end, rotates little by little throughout the performance, but so subtly that you never notice it until you suddenly realise things look a bit different. I think I spotted it moving once in the first half; I didn’t notice it at all in the second. In the same way, the mood and position of those sat around the table shifts little by little, and it’s not until the men stop arguing and take a vote that they, or we, realise the impact of that shift.
This is a play that I think is going to stay with me for some time. Firstly, it’s because it’s a subject that interests me; I feel very strongly about the death penalty and don’t believe it’s ever the right thing to do, but particularly when there’s even a moment’s doubt over the guilt of the person involved. Twelve Angry Men is set in the 1950s but the attitudes of those men when they walk into the room (perfectly summed up by the juror who wants to make the deliberations quick because he has tickets for a baseball game later that evening) are probably just as relevant today. We all lead busy lives, and it’s easy to make quick snap judgments without thinking through the consequences. In the play, the result of this carelessness is a boy losing his life, but even trivial decisions can be damaging if we don’t take the time to give them proper consideration.
I don’t think this play is just about the legal system or the death penalty, although it certainly highlights many issues with both. It’s about humanity and courage, and the importance of standing up for what you believe, even if nobody will stand with you. That one juror, faced with the hostility of the other eleven, could have caved and gone along with their verdict. The fact that he didn’t was inspiring and humbling, and provided a fascinating and incredibly thought-provoking evening.
Now I did promise one angry woman, so here’s my little rant to finish: when did people stop knowing how to behave in the theatre? I mean seriously, you’ve paid good money to be there, could you not sit still and shut up for a couple of hours? My acting career began and ended with a few Christmas nativities at school, but I love the theatre and call me weird but I believe if actors are on stage, the least we can do is show some respect and pay attention.
Tonight, there were the people behind me, who decided to have a chat in the middle of the first half, and the couple next to my sister, who spent the whole evening fidgeting even though the seats were incredibly loud and creaky. And then there were the group in the front row, who were content to stand and continue their conversation long after the announcement that the play was about to begin, and eventually had to be asked to sit down by an usher. Who has to be asked to sit down at the theatre? That’s what you DO at the theatre!
And… breathe.
I’d like to finish my rant with a nod to Kevin Spacey, who last week told a theatre-goer whose phone rang in the middle of his performance (really?! you couldn’t turn your phone off?) that if they didn’t answer it, he would. Mr Spacey, I salute you.
Happy Thanksgiving to any readers in the States. Or indeed not in the States – you don’t have to be American to stop every now and again to reflect on the things you’re thankful for.
But I’m always doing that; it’s kind of the whole point of this blog. And I’m slightly worried that you’re all starting to think I’m one of those people who’s constantly, irritatingly happy – so to dispel that myth, and because I like to be different, I’m going to take this one day to talk about all the things that drive me nuts.
Starting with the biggie – chewing gum. I don’t get chewing gum as an idea; it’s sort of food, but not really, and when you’re finished with it you have to find somewhere to get rid of it. And for some reason, a lot of people find it impossible to chew it quietly, or with their mouths closed. Why is that? Does it taste better that way? Personally I’ve never found gum tastes of much at all but maybe I’ve been doing it wrong.
People who write things like, ‘Feeling blue’ on Facebook. I’ve no problem with that in itself, everyone’s entitled to write what they like. But don’t write that you’re feeling blue and then when people ask what’s wrong, say ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ If you don’t want to talk about it, don’t talk about it.
Spelling mistakes where there shouldn’t be. I know I can be quite fussy about this, and have in the past been known to reject guys on dating sites because of a few misplaced apostrophes. But the thing that really bothers me is mistakes that should have been picked up, like on adverts or posters. Or CVs – I do a lot of recruitment at work and can’t forgive errors on job applications. That’s what spell check’s for. And if you can’t be bothered to put the effort in on your application, why should I hire you?
The way whenever I go to a gig I end up standing behind either the tallest man in the world, or a couple who can’t keep their hands off each other. The last gig I went to, I ended up behind a tall couple, which was just beyond a joke, really.
Andrew Castle. For those who don’t know, Andrew Castle is a former tennis player turned TV presenter, who now commentates on tennis matches. And I can’t stand him, to the point where any time he opens his mouth I assume he’s talking rubbish, whether he is or not. From discussing this with colleagues, it seems everyone has someone they irrationally hate. Have a think about it and you’ll probably find you’ve got one too. Chances are, you always refer to them by their full name, for some reason. Sorry, Andrew Castle.
Slow people. There’s nothing more frustrating than trying to get somewhere when you’ve got someone wandering along in front of you. Every time you try and get round them they veer across and get in your way again. And then they stop dead to have a look around and you run right into them. And then you end up apologising to them, because you’re British and that’s what you do.
And finally – well, until next Thanksgiving anyway – charity collectors who use emotional blackmail. For the most part, I have no issue with these guys, although I’m still not about to hand over my bank account details to a stranger in the street. But what I really hate is when they try and guilt me into it. I once got caught by a guy who worked for one of the environmental charities. When I told him I wasn’t giving him any money, he accused me of not caring about the planet, which funnily enough, didn’t make me change my mind. Unfortunately the person I was meeting was running late, so the charity guy and I then ended up standing there for about ten minutes glaring at each other in hostile silence until they arrived.
There. That feels better.
And now, just in case you think I’ve been too grumpy, here’s a picture of two otters who love each other.
Bringing you independent, honest, experienced reviews of current theatre shows. We believe theatre is something truly magical and can be enjoyed by everyone.
Happy Things 