Tango's Diary

Fandom meme

2008-05-13T21:10:39Z

*cue Tom Lehrer*...Tango got it from stefanie_bean, who got it from sparklybee, who gave it to...

My fandoms:

The one who seduced you and fucked you over and broke your heart in a million pieces and laughed about it: Can't think of any fandom I'm that bitter about. Good start, no?

The old flame you don't see very often any more but whom you still really enjoy getting together with for a few drinks and maybe a pleasant nostalgic romp in the sheets: The Beatles. I went through a major beatlemaniac phase at the age of 11 or so, and although I recovered, I'm still deeply fond of their music, and I treasure the memories of being a total fangirl. :D

The mysterious dark gothy one with whom you used to sit up talking until 3 a.m. at weird coffeehouses and with whom you were quite smitten until you realized he really was fucking crazy: Greek mythology. I was fanatical about it as a kid, ever since I read the ubiquitous and exceptionally well-researched Russian book on Greek and Roman mythology (Kun's "Myths and Legends"). I didn't really get over it, but I did eventually learn a bit more about the history rather than the mythology, which provided something of a reality check.

The one you spent a whole weekend in bed with and who drank up all your liquor, and whom you'd still really like to fuck again although you're relieved he doesn't actually live in town: Bazhov's "Malachite Casket", "Mistress of the Copper Mountain" and other stories -- a series of interconnected folk tales centered on the artisans of the Ural mountains, written in the 19th century. I had it *bad* for this book for years, again as a child, and in a fit of nostalgia located it in my university library in Sydney last year and re-read it. And the terrible thing is, it still pulls me in after all these years. I suppose these days it would be described as magic realism: naturalistic, dark, gorgeous and occasionally terrifying stories set in the mundanity of 19th century Russian countryside.

The steady: "Xena" of course, and I guess also POTO, though "Xena" is somehow much closer to my heart; it's the one I know all the way through and love despite (or because) of all its faults. It's not just the "steady", it's pretty much marrying your high school sweetheart. POTO is fun and beautiful and incredibly interesting because of its setting and connections to all kinds of other things I love (ballet, impressionism, theatricality), but I don't "love it for itself" like I do "Xena".

The ex: "Lois and Clark". I loved it madly, it ended, I was sad, I got over it.

The alluring stranger whom you've flirted with at parties but have never gotten really serious with: Leroux's "Phantom". It has a lot going for it as a fandom, but ultimately it just doesn't push the right buttons for me. Ditto "House" -- maybe if there was a Cuddy/House relationship involved, I could swing in that direction... but these days the writing is just too transparent anyway, you can see what the writers are doing from a mile off. Being able to see the bones of the framework is a major turnoff for me; I want to be able to suspend my disbelief.

The one you hang out with and have vague fantasies about maybe having a thing with but ultimately you're just good buddies 'cause the friendship is there but the chemistry ain't: The BBC "Robin Hood" series -- the Guy/Marion ship just didn't sail for me, but the show was fun to watch. Shame it's over.

The one your friends keep introducing you to and who seems like a hell of a cool guy except it's never really gone anywhere: "Harry Potter". Everyone is into it, and I really enjoy the books, but it doesn't make me a true fan. I do enjoy discussing it, though.

The one who's slept with all your friends, and you keep looking at him and thinking, "Him? How the hell did he land all these cool babes?": Anime. All of it, the whole genre. I just lack the gene for comprehending what the hell is going on and why I should care. At best it looks pretty, at worst it creeps me out.

The one your friend has fallen for like a ton of bricks and whom she keeps babbling to you about on the phone for hours, and you'd be happy for her except you just know it's going to end badly: Philip Pullman's "His Dark Materials". Cathy (LadyKate) fell in love with the first book, couldn't stop gushing, and then gave me the books as a present. I started reading, and realised that this was going to be one of those Idea Novels, where the writer ultimately sacrifices character and plot for the sake of his pet agenda. By that stage Cathy had cooled off on the series as well, so my lack of enthusiasm didn't test our friendship too sorely :D.

Carlotta vs Christine

2008-04-26T01:44:08Z

All this talk in the other thread about POTO made me nostalgic, so I started digging through youtube... And found the perfect combination. (And also the perfect explanation why I prefer the film version). Since my LJ is turning into a video collection anyway, I figured I'd share.

Sarah Brightman, "Think of Me" (or else...):

Emmy Rossum, "Think of Me":

Nabbed from Fictionreader

2008-04-23T20:15:27Z

POTO meets American Idol (or vice versa) -- fictionreader has the videos.

My thoughts:

1) ALW saying "Imagine I'm a beautiful 17 year old girl" conjures some seriously disturbing images. :D

2) MOTN, no matter how beautifully sung, will never be a great song. (Discuss. :D)

3) "Think of Me" as a boyband anthem -- well, Cleolinda did call it an "overwritten pop ballad" in "POTO in 15 minutes"... ALW doesn't look impressed, but that's probably because he's come to see the truth of this. But hey, if Elvis could turn opera into rock-n-roll, turning musical theatre into boyband material should be a piece of cake!

4) And once again I have a warm fuzzy appreciation of just how deeply I love the film version of these songs.

Pesach food special

2008-04-22T22:46:52Z

Continuing the recipe-dump. It's Pesach at the moment (aka Passover). Traditionally, this means having a seder: a ritual meal for the first and second night of the eight-day holiday. That's always fun, but it really doesn't work without lots of family around... So, this year I have contended myself with chicken soup and matzah kugel. I don't just make these on Passover, but they are genuine gold-standard traditional dishes, and the best part is that they are really, really easy to make.

Matzah kugel (known in Russian as babka or zapekanka) is one of those things people make into complicated dishes -- when in fact, this is a perfect example of less being more. It's a sort of cross between an omelette and a pancake, and can be served any way you like: hot or cold, savoury or sweet, with fillings or with condiments or with nothing at all. It goes really well with chicken soup. It also goes really well with nutella, though not necessarily at the same time. :D You can use it as stuffing for chicken; you can make it as individual little pancakes, or you can do what I do and have it exactly as it is.

Matzah Kugel (serves 2-3):

6 sheets matzah
3 eggs
1/4 tsp salt
boiling water (1/2 cup or thereabouts, depends on how dry the matzah is)

Break matzah into rough 1-inch pieces into a bowl, pour a bit of boiling water over this and shake the bowl around until all the pieces are damp. Cover the bowl with a plate and leave for a couple of minutes to allow the water to be absorbed. Meanwhile beat the eggs in another bowl with the salt. Heat a frypan (ideally a shallow non-stick one with a lid) to medium, optionally with a bit of oil. Add eggs to the softened matzah, mix, and pour the mixture into the frypan. Turn the heat down to medium-low, and cook, covered, for at least 10 mins. After this time, the bottom will be golden and the sides should look set, a bit like a pancake, though the middle will still be wet. Here's the fun part: flipping it. If you have a very wide spatula, you could use that (carefully), or just slide the whole thing from the frypan onto a large dinner plate. With both hands, flip plate over so that the matzah flops onto the frypan wet side down. (If this is difficult, use the spatula to hold the kugel in place as you turn the plate over the pan). Leave it alone for another 5 mins, after which you won't be able to help yourself and will continuously check if it's brown yet. Don't be tempted to turn up the heat, you'll just get soggy matzah in a burnt shell. When it's nicely browned, slide it onto a plate and serve. Enjoy!

I've posted the chicken soup before in the soup post, but here it is again for safekeeping:

Chicken Soup
Cut chicken into sections (6 pieces or so, or just use thigh/drumstick portions), remove skin and excess fat, rinse and put into a pot with cold water, one whole onion, one halved carrot, and salt. Set it to high heat; just before it boils (15 mins or so), skim the brown crud that rises to the top. The idea is to have a completely clear broth. As soon as it boils, turn it down and simmer another 20-30 mins, no more. Then turn off the heat, add chopped dill and parsley, and allow to sit, covered, for 5-10 mins. To serve, put a few tablespoons of cooked egg noodles or any pasta into a bowl, and ladle broth over that. Add some of the cooked carrot, onion and chicken as desired (but I usually skip all that). You can replace the noodles with any cooked grain (buckwheat is perfect, rice is okay too), or a broken-up sheet of matzah (yum), or croutons, or just serve the broth in a cup with some crackers or toast.

Time for an ad break

2008-04-13T12:30:18Z

"Unfortunately, without your favourite warrior..." :D Brilliant!

POTO vid

2008-04-08T21:20:38Z

One of the most inventive fan videos I've encountered -- I wish more video artists had the creativity to use footage from elsewhere. Now if only this had been the "Moonlight Sonata"... :D

Buckwheat FAQ

2008-04-04T21:20:06Z

I could write about how I went to Amsterdam on the weekend (on the bus... 12 hours each way...) or how my computer at work has been reborn as a Linux box (... which, compared to XP, feels like I now have to do everything backwards and in high heels) -- buuuuut both of these require brain power, and that is something I currently lack.

So, instead, here is yet another cooking post -- and it's not even for dessert. Well, not entirely. :D I did promise a few people that I'd explain how to cook buckwheat, so here goes.

BUCKWHEAT FAQ

Q. What on earth is buckwheat?
A. It's a yummy berry, or nut, or fruit, that masquerades as a grain - buckwheat grains are actually called 'groats'. It's not wheat, has nothing whatsoever to do with wheat, and is even completely suitable for gluten-intolerant people. No, I don't know why they called it that, either...

Q. What does it taste like?
A. Like -- buckwheat. You can make it savoury or sweet, though it has a strong nutty, smoky flavour of its own.

Q. How do I eat it?
A. Enthusiastically, and with a spoon. :D You can use it as you would rice for a side dish, especially with meat or poultry, or you can eat it for breakfast instead of cereal or porridge. I like to zap cooked buckwheat in the microwave with a bit of milk and then eat it with a spoonful of sweetened condensed milk. It also works well as a stuffing for vegetables, instead of brown rice.

Q. Where do I buy it?
A. Depending on where you live, there might be several options to try: the wholefoods section of a supermarket (ie where you buy nuts and seeds), a dedicated health food store, or -- generally the cheapest and easiest option -- an eastern European or Chinese grocery store. Not all Asian groceries have it, but every eastern European one will.

Q. So how do I cook it?
A. Same as any other grain (think rice) -- the only difference being that buckwheat is much better if you roast it first. You could buy it pre-roasted (which looks dark brown instead of pale pink-brown), but the flavour is not as good.

To cook it, you'll need a heavy pan, or at least one with a heavy base. Buckwheat is cooked in water at a ratio of about 1:2 (1 cup buckwheat to just over 2 cups water), though you could use more water if you want to it to turn porridgy.

1. Wash the buckwheat to get rid of any impurities: measure it out into the pan, add enough cold water to cover, swirl it around a bit, and drain completely. You can skip this if the buckwheat looks very clean, in which case you can go straight to step 3.

2. Dry it: place on the hob and turn the heat to medium-low. Spread the buckwheat around the pan and leave to dry for a while -- do not be tempted to stir it, it's just going to crumble into flour if you do.

3. After about 10 mins of this, or when the groats no longer stick to one another, add a little olive oil (1 tsp per cup dry buckwheat is usually plenty), and shake it around the pan a bit to coat. If some of the groats are stuck, you can scrape them off with a spoon, but it's easier just to leave them to dry for another minute or two, after which they usually come off. Leave to roast, stirring occasionally, until the colour changes to an even, deep brown. This will take about 15 mins; you can skip it altogether if you don't have time, but it's 15 mins well spent.

4. Add boiling water (twice the volume of buckwheat, or a little more), and stir once to make sure nothing is stuck to the pan. Cover and cook until the water is fully absorbed, 20 mins or so. There is no need to add salt or anything else.

5. When the water is all gone, taste the buckwheat to make sure it's fully cooked -- if it's still a bit crunchy, add another 1/3 cup water, stir, cover and cook for another few mins until the water is absorbed. Turn off the heat and add 1-2 tblsp (salted) butter or margarine. If you use unsalted butter, add a bit of salt as well. Stir in with a fork, fluffing the groats as you go.

6. Ta-daaa! BUCKWHEAT! :D

Poppyseeds, joy of

2008-03-24T18:42:43Z

It may be called the Easter long weekend, but this year it was also Purim, which has what I think is the best holiday food ever: hamentaschen!

Since I promised to make some food-related posts a while back and then never delivered anything except soup, I figured now is the time to share a recipe. Besides, sharing food is a Purim tradition (for reasons that seem obscure to me, but who needs a reason, really?), so think of this as my virtual food-sharing.

Hamentaschen, for those not in the know, are triangular shells of sweet pastry, traditionally filled with poppyseed. You can, of course fill them with anything you like, from nutella to cheese, but none of these things will approach the yumminess that is the genuine article. Also, there are many variations of the dough recipe floating around cyberspace, ranging from cookie dough to yeast-based dough to phyllo pastry... While all this can be accomplished with varying degrees of success, it's still simpler and much, much nicer to make them the traditional way.

Here is what they look like -- this is an old photo of mine, this year's batch are prettier, but I currently don't have any way of getting my photos off the camera and onto the computer, so you'll just have to take my word for it.

I tend to make these in quantity, because it's a pity to put in all this effort and not have enough hamentaschen to feed an army at the end. They keep well, so it's really not a problem to have them sitting around for a few days. This recipe makes about 80 hamentaschen, more or less depending on how large you make them and how thin you roll out the pastry.

Recipe:

4 1/2 cups flour + 1/2 cup extra for rolling out
5 tsp. baking powder (technically you don't need this if you roll out the dough thin enough)
2/3 tsp. salt
1 cup sugar
12 tbsp. melted butter (about 100 g I think)
2 eggs
1 1/4 cups milk

1. Place a small saucepan on the hob, add butter and let it melt over a low heat, giving it a stir occasionally. Or zap it in a microwave. The butter, that is. Not the saucepan.

2. Meanwhile, combine flour+sugar+salt+baking powder in a large mixing bowl.

3. Make a well in the centre, add the butter, stir it in until it disappears (no need to rub it into the flour; this isn't shortcrust pastry).

4. Beat the eggs with a fork, slowly add to the flour mixture, and mix thoroughly. I use a hand-held mixer with kneading hooks, but you can use a wooden spoon (and elbow grease).

5. Add milk slowly while mixing, so that the dough starts to come together. When it's still a bit sticky but reasonably solid, cover the bowl and set aside.

6. Make the filling of your choice: for this quantity of dough, I make both of the filling types below, one batch of each.

Poppyseed filling: into the saucepan you used for melting butter, add another 2 tbsp butter, 1 cup poppyseeds (if you can grind them, great, if not, it still works fine), 1/2 cup milk, 1/4 cup sugar, 2 tbspn honey, 1/2 cup chopped walnuts, 1/3 cup raisins. Cook over low heat 20 mins or until thick. Pour into a bowl to cool slightly. Stir in 1/2 tsp vanilla (optional). I like to stick a blender into this and chop it up once it's off the heat, but you don't have to, it works either way.

Prune filling: in a small saucepan, combine 2 tbsp butter, 1/2 cup sugar, 1/4 cup poppyseeds, 1 cup chopped pitted prunes (or prunes from 1 x 400 g can, drained and pitted), 2/3 cup milk. Add more milk if the prunes are dry. Cook over low heat until thick, cool and add 1 tsp vanilla.

7. On a floured board, roll out the dough as thin as you can. You can do this between sheets of baking paper if you like, but the dough is pretty easy to handle so there is really no need.

(Somewhere around now would be a good idea to set the oven to preheat to 180 degrees C.)

8. Using an upside-down cup, cut out circles. Combine the offcuts, break into 1-inch lumps and roll out each one into another circle (or add them to the remaining dough to be rolled out again).

9. Using two teaspoons, place 1 tsp of filling into the centre of each circle. Moisten the edges of each circle (dip fingers into a bit of water and run around the edge). Raise three sides up to the centre and pinch together to form a triangle, leaving a small hole in the centre.

10. Optional: lightly beat an egg in a small bowl with a couple of tablespoons of water. Baste each pastry with egg wash before baking (using a brush, or a piece of baking paper).

11. Bake on a lined biscuit tray in a preheated oven at 180 degrees C until golden brown (~25 minutes).

Geographically yours

2008-03-17T23:13:26Z

Hilarious (and unfortunately short!) "All I Ask Of You" parody by the multitalented amateur actress/singer Amy Walker.

Her other clips are worth a look too, actually -- everything from St Joan, to 21 accents in 2 mins (the Russian one is spot-on, the Sydney one less so), through to Ursula from "The Little Mermaid". :D

Superwoman

2008-03-08T17:28:05Z

I found out today that my ballet teacher is six months pregnant. None of us in the class even noticed -- but more importantly, she can do all that when she's pregnant?! I don't know how many classes a week she teaches, but it's a lot, several a day, including the weekends. And I saw her perform recently. And looks amazing. And and and... six months!!

Frailty, thy name is ... something other than woman, clearly.

Happy Women's Day to those who celebrate it. *walks off, shaking head in wonder*

Wheat from chaff

2008-03-03T01:07:50Z

Thanks to oblomskaya for finding this little gem:

REVERENT QUIZZES

Quizzes on things that really matter: like can you tell great art from the scribbles of an ape? Or how about Dickens from the "worst writer in history"?

In answer to the latter -- I couldn't. In fact I think I got about 2 right (they are all appalling!). And even more sadly, the quiz author's anaylsis shows I'm far from alone... My childhood hatred of Dickens now has a pseudo-scientific basis. Ha.

I did far better on the art questions and the furniture ones. I'm sure that says something important about me. Or about Dickens. :D

Best POTO joke ever

2008-02-29T23:25:13Z

From a Russian POTO forum (excuse my translation; original by Karis):

Christine wakes up at night in the cellar of the Opera House.
"Angel, I'm cold!"
The Phantom reluctantly tears himself away from his music, goes and gets her a blanket.
Half an hour later: "I'm cold!"
The Phantom manages to find two more blankets.
Christine: "I'm cold!!"
The Phantom brings all the covers he can lay his hands on, and returns to his composing.
Christine: "You know, when I was little, on cold nights, my late mother would warm me with the heat of her own body..."
The Phantom: "It's five in the morning! I've had a hard day! I'm not going to the cemetery right now to dig up your mother!!"

Кристина просыпается ночью в подвале:
- Ангел Музыки, мне холодно!
П.О. с неохотой отрывается от нот, и приносит ее одеяло.
Спустя еще полчаса: - Мне холодно!!
П.О. , тащит еще 2 одеяла.
Кристина: - Мне холодно!!!
П.О. притащил все, чем можно накрыться и сел писать дальше.
Кристина: - А вот когда я была маленькая, холодными ночами, покойная мама
грела меня теплом своего тела…
П.О.: - Сейчас пять утра! У меня был трудный день! Я не пойду на кладбище откапывать твою маму!

Russian feminism, joys of

2008-02-14T21:44:47Z

Valentine's Day seems like a perfect occasion to remember the victims of the gender-equality struggle. *Bows head* And on that note...

If you ever wanted to learn all there is to know about gender relations in Russia, and understand why feminism there has been short-circuited for a century, you could hope for no better find than the following terrible poem. A Russian girl recently posted this (in translation) on the Lucy Lawless fan list, apparently because she believes it's "beautiful". The author, discovered by ladykate63, is one Natalia Shevchenko, whoever she may be.

It's not just the cliches and triteness that are so awful, it's the sentiments: the ridiculous mystification of femininity (did you know God chose women? what for, may I ask?), the idea that a woman is always suffering and enduring and working her butt off while the man goes around doing whatever men do, and that this is as it must be, and there is virtue in all this.

The translation I saw on the forum was incomprehensible, so here's a translation I made. It was a painful exercise to translate this rubbish, so I fear the English is a bit better than the original deserves... I kept veering into parody, because it's hard to write this with a straight face. :D Actually, there is a 'male chauvinist response' to this floating around the net, but that's quite deliberately tongue-in-cheek, whereas this (sad to say) is not. There is also a different translation of this by LadyKate.

Read it and weep...

I am a woman, and that means an actress,
Who hides a hundred faces and a thousand roles.
I am a woman, and that means an empress,
Beloved of all the princes of the earth.

I am a woman, and that means a scapegoat
Who's known the taste of many a bitter hurt,
I am a woman, and that means a desert,
That will devour you in its blazing heat.

I am a woman, I am strong - I must be,
Since life is struggle... But, do not forget,
I am a woman, aching-tender, gentle,
Yet I am woman, and that means I'm Fate!

I am a woman, a bright burst of passion,
Yet mine must be endurance and hard work,
I am a woman: I'm the joy untreasured,
The chance at happiness, and all that never was.

I am a woman, dangerous by nature,
Within me ice and fire live as one.
I am a woman, beauty that is ageless,
Eternal from the maiden to the crone.

I am a woman; every road you walk on
Brings you to me, to me and not to Rome.
I am a woman, and divinely chosen --
Though by the same God's hand divinely cursed.

Я - женщина, и, значит, я – актриса,
Во мне сто лиц и тысяча ролей.
Я - женщина, и, значит, я - царица,
Возлюбленная всех земных царей.

Я - женщина, и, значит, я - рабыня,
Познавшая солёный вкус обид.
Я - женщина, и, значит, я - пустыня,
Которая тебя испепелит.

Я - женщина, сильна я поневоле,
Но, знаешь, даже если жизнь – борьба…
Я - женщина, я слабая до боли,
Я - женщина, и, значит, я - судьба!

Я - женщина, я просто вспышка страсти,
Но мой удел - терпение и труд.
Я - женщина, я - то большое счастье,
Которое совсем не берегут…

Я – женщина, и этим я опасна,
Огонь и лёд на век во мне одной.
Я - женщина, и, значит, я прекрасна
С младенчества до старости седой.

Я - женщина, и, значит, все дороги
Ведут - ко мне, а не в какой-то Рим…
Я - женщина, я - избранная Богом,
Хотя уже наказанная Им…

POTO video

2008-02-09T17:44:23Z

Ah, yes. That most unusual of occurrences - finding a POTO video I like! And I like this one very much indeed. Nothing like a bit of hyperbole, angst and drug metaphors to get to the heart of the sort of E/C I dig. The hallucinogenic effects are particularly apposite. :D (The same author also has some other nice videos, worth checking out.)

That Tom Cruise video

2008-01-21T21:46:16Z

So, I finally saw the infamous Tom Cruise Scientology video -- and you know what? I don't understand why everyone feels they have the right to bag him out for what is a video just like any other religious video I've ever seen, and probably less weird than most.

Replace the terminology with your cult/religion/group of choice, or even some political movements, and you will undoubtedly see what I mean. Substitute the Bible for KSW, unbeliever for SP, and tell me you've never heard a religious video claim that their particular stream of their particular religion is special, and compels people to "make a difference" and "stop at an accident and help".

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a fan of Tom Cruise and I couldn't care less about Scientology. But I find it darkly funny that far fewer people dare to say these things out loud about what they perceive as a legitimate religious movement, or political party, versus what they perceive to be a cult.

Perhaps it's being brought up under the remnants of Russian communism, but I remember all too well the people mouthing similar feelings about Marxism-Leninism. And, dare I say it, it doesn't sound all that different now when they talk about Putin.

You can't have it both ways. If you think Cruise with his er, religious persuasion is off his rocker, then you have to extend the same degree of (in)tolerance to virtually every religious movement and quite a few secular ones into the bargain. And the reverse is also true -- if you want others to treat your religious beliefs with respect, or at least tolerance, then you have no right to apply a double standard to someone else's.

Oh lookee, another outbreak of Toxic Fan Sydnrome

2008-01-19T19:47:22Z

Turns out it's not just poor old Lucy Lawless who has been a victim of what I propose should be termed the Toxic Fan Syndrome (TFS). Symptoms to look out for are a pathological belief that the object of one's affection owes one something (an autograph, a date, money...) and an unshakeable belief in one's own power to terminate the uncooperative object's career by claiming to leave the fandom. Check out TFS in action at Emmy Rossum's fansite, in response to some new photos of a Dragonball conference she did. A typical example:

"[She] looks awful and the movie is still a silly choice. I am glad so many fans at fan.com dropped away and here,too. I am sorely disappointed in her and her people. She has let us down too many times. Marnie wrote a great posting at fan.com but I agree with everyone who has left. It is too late as far as I am concerned. She could care less about anything but her small movies, small career, small BF and small mgt. Small life. She does not care about her fans unless she sells something. Really sorry she is like ES said. Or she changed a lot. Either way. Her BF can have her. He may be all she has. Bye."

Heh. Where have I heard this before? Oh yes: "Now let it be war upon you both! Mwahahahaha!!"

(In case you're wondering, no, I don't normally frequent her fansite, let alone the comment threads. I'm just intrigued by fan pathology. :D)

Mite of Solo news

2008-01-17T23:22:28Z

I have finally managed to locate a copy of the research book I need for "Solo", and it's even in my local library! Woo-hoo. Now, to find the time to use it...

Whoa!

2008-01-14T00:58:09Z

After catching the last 20 mins of POTO on TV this evening (much to B's dismay -- he wanted the football), I decided to find out what the film cast is currently up to. In the process, I stumbled on this:

Little Emmy, all grown up

That, ladies and gentlemen, was Emmy Rossum singing "All I Ask Of You" at a charity event for some kids (followed by all of them singing Somewhere Over The Rainbow). And despite the terrible quality of the recording, I have to admit I was stunned -- she's amazing! She has always had a strong lower register (which instantly won me over in POTO), but now she soars up to the high notes, too -- as madradish always said, it was just a matter of her voice maturing. Ha! Wonder if ALW has heard it yet? :D

Anyway, inspired by this, I went and found the videos for her recent Christmas release, and managed to locate a couple of other live recordings, of Holy Night and Merry Little Christmas. Yep, the girl can sing! There is also a studio version of the former floating around on YouTube.

But the best of the lot, I think, is her version of Carol of the Bells, recorded in the same style as her album. Little as I usually care for Christmas music, this one is a very rare exception.

Enjoy! :)

Mirror, mirror

2008-01-13T02:10:54Z

As girlie and ridiculous as it is fun -- Marie Claire's virtual makeover.

You can mess with one of the default photos, or if you register, you can upload a photo of yourself or some other unfortunate victim, and try on various (mostly subtle) make-up and (not-so-subtle) hair modifications. It actually works surprisingly well -- reminds me of being 13 and experimenting with unfortunate eyeshadow colours. :D

And while we're talking veggies...

2008-01-12T01:19:49Z

I have a sizeable quantity of leeks courtesy of the veggie box delivery this week. Does anyone have an Ultimate Best-Ever Leek Recipe that uses at least 3-4 large leeks? Not soup, though, as I have plenty at the moment. And preferably not the obvious, ie roasting it or adding to mashed potato.

(For bonus points, if you manage to include swede, parsnips and/or beetroot in your suggestions I would be particularly grateful -- that's the other stuff in my veggie box at the moment.)

Soup

2008-01-11T17:35:36Z

Here's the promised food stuff. I figured I'd kick things off with the basics: soup, as cooked in Russia. Obviously, I can't speak for all Russians, and others with more experience should feel free to correct me -- I'm sure crybaby or oblomskaya know far more than I do -- but this is how things are done in my family. Keep in mind that this isn't "traditional Russian" cooking, in the sense of how things were done 200 years ago, but just what I'd expect from a regular homecooked meal.

First, a few basics. When it comes to Russian soups, there's a few things to remember:

1) Forget the blender. Russian soup, with very few exceptions, has recognisable pieces of recognisable vegetables etc suspended in their stock. You have no idea how long it took my mother to discard this rule in order to cook pumpkin soup (a thoroughly non-Russian dish).

2) With the exception of borsch, which Russians mysteriously insist is not soup at all, there is no precooking. Not even for onion.

3) Russian soups have a distinct identity. Resist the temptation to throw in everything you have in the fridge. (Substitutions are possible, but this makes a new recipe -- try the original before doing anything exotic.)

4) The same goes for seasoning: parsley and dill are all you need. Add them at the very end, *after* the heat has been turned off.

5) Cream does not belong in any Russian soup I know of, but sour cream belongs in many. Add it to individual bowls after serving, don't ever add it to the whole pot. In some cases, noodles, rice or egg are added to a bowl first and then the soup ladled over it -- this depends on the actual recipe.

The most basic technique is as follows: bring water to boil, add finely chopped onion and carrot (this is the soup base), boil them for a while while you dice the potato, add the potato and whatever else goes into the particular soup you're making and then cook until potato is done. Add a handful of chopped dill and/or parsley and serve with or without sour cream.

With that in mind, here's a good example: brussel sprout soup. When I was little, I used to think brussel sprouts were a treat (doll-sized cabbages, how cool is that!), and I'm convinced that the reason I loved them was because mum only ever served them in this yummy soup.

Mum's Brussel Sprout Soup

1 onion, diced small (1/2 cm cubes -- don't grate or process)
1 large carrot, diced small
500 g brussel sprouts, any damaged outer leaves removed
1 large potato, diced (1 cm cubes, bigger than the carrot, but not too big)
1/3 - 1/2 cup egg noodles, broken into smallish bits if long
1 tbsp fresh dill, finely chopped
1/2 tsp whole black peppercorns
salt
sour cream, to serve

In a 2 litre pot, bring about 1.8 L of water to the boil. (Some of the water can be replaced with chicken stock - I sometimes add a single cube of chicken stock to just under 2 L of soup.) Add onion and carrot, allow to boil for 10 mins or so while you dice the potato. Add potato and brussel sprouts, throw in the peppercorns, cover and simmer for another 15 mins. Add noodles and about 1/2 to 2/3 tbsp salt -- taste to make sure it's enough. Simmer another 10 mins or until the potato chunks can be easily cut with the edge of a spoon. Remove from heat, add dill, and allow to sit for at least 5 min. When serving, make sure to ladle from the bottom so that everyone gets some noodles/vegies/stock. Pass around the sour cream to let everyone serve themselves a dollop into their bowl (1/2 to 1 tbsp is usual, depending on personal preference).

Variations:

Classic vegetable soup -- replace brussel sprouts with green cabbage cut in narrow strips; add 1 cup green peas (frozen okay) 5 min before the end of the cooking time. Serve with sour cream.

Mushroom soup -- replace brussel sprouts with fresh sliced mushrooms. Serve with sour cream.

Spinach soup -- omit the peppercorns, replace brussel sprouts with fresh or frozen spinach, replace noodles with 2 tbsp semolina (added at the same time as the potato). Add juice of 1 lemon. When serving, crush 1/2 hard-boiled egg into each bowl and ladle hot soup over it. Add 1 tbsp fresh parsley in addition to the dill. Serve with sour cream as above.

Fish soup -- replace noodles with 1/3 cup rice (added at the same time as the potato), add 1 x 400 g can salmon (or equivalent in fresh salmon) and 1 cup finely chopped celery at the same time as the potato. Add 1 tbsp parsley in addition to the dill. Serve as is, without sour cream.

She lives! She lives!

2008-01-05T23:56:04Z

Ah, it's good to be back! After a few months of crazy real life offline, I'm finally re-emerging. In what is a sort of new-year tradition, or at least a first-post-in-ages tradition, this will be in point form. That way I don't feel quite so overwhelmed by all the random things I feel like posting.

And for the first item on the agenda:

1) Happy New Year to everyone who (for some bizarre reason) happens to be still reading this! Hope you had an excellent break, if you were fortunate enough to have had one.

Now for the randomness:

2) This year, "A Solo For The Living" shall live again. I don't believe in karma, but if I did, I must have accumulated a record amount of the bad-nasty-evil kind in the months since I stopped updating Solo. I sincerely hope I will finally be able to finish it, job and stuff notwithstanding. It hasn't yet caused the kind of emotional meltdown that my first novel-length fic, "Fortuna's Champion", did back when it was stalled, and I'm determined that I won't let it get to that stage. So there. I've finally made a promise (vague as it is ;) ) and you may hold me to it.

3) I'm heartily sick of this climate. Who would've thought it could be foggy and freezing (literally, below 0) at the same time? I've never before appreciated what a 'consumptive' air is, but six months of living in what is essentially a marshland has given me a nasty cough and a newfound appreciation of why even the Romans packed up and left the place in disgust. If only it would snow... The funny thing is, when I went to Paris recently (true, there are definite advantages to living here!), we emerged from the channel tunnel and suddenly, instead of awful London greyness, the sky was a crisp blue and there was brilliant sunlight! Everyone in the carriage gasped and started laughing.

4) A while ago I actually purchased Emmy Rossum's album. :D In my defence, I will add that it was 3 pounds from Amazon, delivered. And you know what? I like it. I like that she didn't go and make a look-at-me vocal album of stock favourites, and I like the 'ambient pop' style (makes excellent background music for ironing, for example :D). It lacks a certain professional polish, and it sorely lacks humour, but that's because the girl is too young to be cynical and too sheltered not to take herself seriously. I'm sure life will eventually see to that.

5) Last year I did hardly any reading, especially in the second half (for obvious reasons). Hopefully this year that will change...

6) Has anyone seen "P.S. I love you", and is it as dismal as it looks from the trailer? Rotten tomatoes gives it the lowest score I've ever seen -- 21%. Oh dear.

7) Not having my parents nearby has finally forced me to learn to cook all those things I normally couldn't be bothered with, from borsch to piroshki. Consequently I'm accumulating all kinds of recipes. Anyone up for a regular recipe-swapping column/post?

8) That's enough. Really. :D

Eeeeeeeee!

2007-10-31T00:44:34Z

Colleen McCullough has a new novel in the "Masters of Rome" series! I thought it was all done, and since her eyesight is failing, I hardly dared to expect her to continue the series -- but she has!

For those not in the know, these are the best historical novels ever, covering the entire history of the Roman Republic in vivid, glorious detail, with a proper bibiliography and clearly outlining the parts that are fictionalised from the historical material. I owe all my interest in reading historical fiction (and dabbling in writing it) to these books. And everything I know about Rome, I know first and foremost thanks to Colleen McCullough and her amazing scholarship.

In the process of discovering this, I also found out that she is a neuroscientist, and founded the department of neurophysiology at the Royal North Shore hospital in Sydney, and did 10 years of research before moving into writing. And all that before the 1970s! I am officially inspired.

Oh, and I've met her -- alas before I'd read her books -- while I was working at the Sydney Writers' Festival. But all I got to do was mind her suitcase. :D

Another POTO post

2007-10-17T21:54:59Z

I'll make it snappy, I promise.

A friend of mine and I went to see POTO in London, with the same cast again, in my case. We had seats right up the front this time, and loved it. You feel part of the show there, with the proscenium literally around you, and the chandelier whooshing past, and it's exhilarating. The level of detail, even that close, is unbelievable -- the satyrs on the proscenium arch have *jewels in their decorations*! (Yes, they are plastic, but come on, it's theatre.) And the tassels and various bits and bobs of costumes are fun to study. Also I was pleasantly surprised that the make-up didn't look too exaggerated, and didn't break the illusion even when the Phantom's mask is off. You could just see the mics, but it didn't bother me at all. The flares were freaky, and the rush of heat from the 'flames' as the Phantom disappears in Masquerade had the whole front row attempt to back into our row -- quite funny, but also very full-on.

The one drawback of sitting so close and off to one side is that some dialogue-style scenes are difficult to observe closely -- one or other of the characters tends to be half-turned away. The effect it has is to change my perspective on charactersiation somewhat. For one thing, I liked Raoul a lot more -- because this time I was close enough to observe his heated exchange with Mme Giry during "Primadonna", and generally more of the scenes where he is a background presence. For another, I didn't feel quite as keenly for the Phantom, perhaps partly because I was too busy ogling the scenery. :D Also Christine sounded a little less 'cockney', but she still conveyed the impression of being a wolf in sheep's clothing (my friend concurred, so I have some external corroboration now).

Random thoughts, more notes to self than anything else:

- Christine's cape in AIAOY is green, not red, because she is thinking of/fearing death and murder - not love.
- Don Juan Triumphant has the line 'poor fool hasn't got a chance' (is it my imagination, or is it 'poor thing' in the film?) Anyway, seems to me it mirrors the 'poor fool' of Il Muto (the cuckolded husband having the last laugh, etc).
- Madame Giry sounds genuinely happy at the Masquerade, when they all think they are rid of the Phantom at last (though on what grounds, I still don't know).
- Christine yelling at the tomb in the cemetery scene still makes me laugh. I know what she's trying to achieve with the notion of singing to the Phantom as much as her father, but at the same time it's completely hilarious moment to have a temper tantrum. Or maybe it's just me. :D

Anyway, as Monsieur Camembert sing - 'a good time was had by all'.

Extra special bonus feature: POTO in a lot more than 15 mins

2007-09-17T02:09:10Z

Not the most original of ideas, but once I started I had to see it through. This is pretty much my impression of the show, albeit in a somewhat... shall we say, heightened, form. Heightened, and just leeetle bit condensed. :D

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing and nobody. This is for entertainment purposes only; keep out of reach of children, throw away uneaten portion after seven days.

SUMMARY: The Phantom of the Opera. Inspired by the West End show I saw (reviewed in posts below) and by Cleolinda's Movies in 15 minutes parodies.

RATING: G, unless you're really sheltered. And then, still G -- innocence is a liability.

How do you like them apples?
by Tango (yes, these things do happen)

AUCTION
It was a dark and stormy night – the kind of night when all Paris goes bargain-basement shopping for vintage theatre props.

AUCTIONEER:
And yet another piece of junk – sold! To Rrraaooolle, Vicomte de Chagny. *Portentous pause* Remember that name, Audience. Now, who wants this mouldy poster and a serving tray, complete with tastefully finished set of matched human skulls? The ideal accompaniment to any tea party!

Raoul restrains himself, but someone else succumbs.

AUCTIONEER:
And now for the piece de resistance! A barrel organ… shaped like a monkey!

BUYERS:
Whatever.

AUCTIONEER:
In Persian robes! Playing the cymbals!!

BUYERS:
Meh.

AUCTIONEER:
Found rotting in the vaults of the theatre! In the lowest, dampest, most unpleasant basement you can imagine!

BUYERS:
Ohhh! But wait – wasn’t the basement trashed by the mob thirty years ago?

AUCTIONEER:
Er… The mob didn’t want this one.

MONKEY:
*moves around a bit to the sound of the synthesiser* (Translation: God damn it, I am the Genie, er, the Phantom of the Barrel Organ! Trapped in here for decades and still they deny me!)

MME GIRY:
Oh very well. Give it here.

MONKEY/PHANTOM:
(Hmm, if I just wriggle a bit more, perhaps I can use my telekinetic powers of evil to convince Chagny to buy me and take me to Christine’s grave! At last I shall be reunited with my beloved!)

RAOUL:
I guess I could---

AUCTIONEER:
SOLD! To Rrrraoul! *shoves monkey aside* He’s all yours.

RAOUL:
God damn my eBay addiction. Oi! Give that here.

The assistant, who had been about to add the monkey to Raoul’s other impulse purchases, returns it to him.

RAOUL:
Infernal creature! Twenty years from now you’ll still be playing on all our graves!

MONKEY/PHANTOM:
(That’s right, and now you will believe you must take me to her grave!)

AUCTIONEER:
…blah blah blah chandelier blah blah blah ELECTRIC LIGHT!

A storm of neon tubing erupts behind the auctioneer. The consequences of wiring a faulty gas appliance for electricity rupture the fabric of space-time, and we are transported thirty years into the past. Raoul, the monkey, and all other participants are instantaneously reduced to ashes.

AUDIENCE:
*gapes in awe as the set assembles itself around them, complete with plastic chandelier dangling over their heads*

MUSIC:
Ddadadaadummm! Bam bam wham bam! KAZAAM!

AUDIENCE:
*enthusiastic applause*

CARLOTTA:
*unintelligible, but enthusiastic singing at a corpseless head*

AUDIENCE:
*enthusiastic applause*

CHORUS:
Remember that mouldy poster from Hannibal? Well, YOU’RE ALL IN IT!

AUDIENCE:
*enthusiastic applause*

CHORUS:
Really! And now – with feasting and dancing and props, we will all celebrate whatever it is Carlotta is singing about to the bloodied head!

PIANGI:
Rrrrrrrrrrromaaaaa!

LEFEVRE:
Here are your new managers. Love them as you never loved me. Toodles!

NEW MANAGERS:
This is soooo cool!

GIRY:
Out of my way, infidels! *thumps cane in manner of Moses bringing water forth from a rock* Christine, how nice of you to join us, a mere two hours into full dress rehearsal!

CHRISTINE:
*does a couple of steps on pointe* Ouch.

MANAGERS:
Who’s the chick wearing the exact same wig as every other ballet girl, but in a darker colour?

GIRY:
Christine. Isn’t she lovely? And she comes with her very own hairbrush and limited edition gift certificate! Smile when you’re spoken to, Christine.

CHRISTINE:
*smile*

Meg draws Christine out of the spotlight, smiling charmingly at the managers.

MANAGERS:
Hey, isn’t there an awesome song for what’s her name in Act something or other? How about it, Carlotta?

CARLOTTA:
There sure is, darling boy, and it goes with my verrrry sexy dance of the seven veils – want to see?

ANDRE:
Yes yes yes!

*Carlotta sings and flirts with managers, drawing a long veil behind her*

FIRMIN:
Only one veil, though.

CARLOTTA:
Budget cuts.

Just as Carlotta hits her stride, the backdrop collapses, to much general screaming at the 120 decibel level. Sound system squeaks pitifully; chandelier gives a plastic thunk or two in warning.

CARLOTTA:
I’m so outta here.

PIANGI:
Wait for me!

MANAGERS:
Bugger. So! Who wants to sing Carlotta’s role tonight?

REYER:
Ahaha, Monsieur Lefevre didn’t mention one teensy weensy problem. Carlotta is the only singer we’ve got. Had got. Gotten.

MANAGERS:
One singer?! Is this or is this not an opera house?!

GIRY:
Budget cuts. You’ll need to make some too, if you’re to keep paying twenty grand to the Phantom for venue hire.

MANAGERS:
Who? What?! Why?!! HOW?!!

MEG:
Christine can sing it.

MANAGERS:
Her? She can’t even dance!

MEG:
That’s because she spends all her time singing.

GIRY:
Let her sing, or bad things will happen. Expensive bad things, involving lighting fixtures.

CHANDELIER:
*twunks ominously*

MANAGERS:
All right. Two bars, that’s all she gets.

CHRISTINE:
But I don’t think I can…

GIRY:
Resistance is futile! *Thumps cane*

Christine bursts into song. After the first verse she’s into it, after the second she has remembered that primadonnas get their own dressing room, chocolates, poodles, and male visitors after midnight. Giry and the dressers pin her into Carlotta’s costume, which improbably fits her, and she prances onto the stage before a phantom audience, waving her scarf around joyfully.

CHRISTINE:
Thank you, thank you very much! Really, you’re too too kind! How sweet of you to keep applauding my genius!

RAOUL (in his box):
Christine! What good work, I would have never recognised her with the new nose!

CHRISTINE:
Thank you, thank you very much!

The show is finished. Giry congratulates Christine, chastises the ballet girls, and we adjourn to Christine’s dressing room and the ballet practice room -- both, at the same time. Those with and interest in ballet can look to the left, those with an interest in perving on girls in their dressing rooms can look to the right. The Audience pretends to look to the left.

CHRISTINE:
I don’t know why I’m so scared. But I am. And that makes me angry!

VOICE/PHANTOM:
I don’t know why I’m so angry. But I am! And that makes me scared.

RAOUL:
Lotte! Long time no see. *tickles her*

CHRISTINE:
Sweetums! Honeycakes! Love of my life!

RAOUL:
How about dinner?

CHRISTINE:
Okay!

RAOUL:
I promise, I won’t keep you up late.

CHRISTINE (crestfallen):
You won’t?

VOICE/PHANTOM:
Enough of that. We have work to do!

CHRISTINE:
Right. Sorry. Forgot myself there. So…?

Mirror opens; Christine steps through. The scene changes to show a series of ramps up and down the stage; Christine and the Phantom travel along them, until Christine is left behind.

PHANTOM:
Oh crap. Forgot the girl. *goes back, takes her hand, and drags her to the boat*

CHRISTINE:
Now really, this is absurd! I am missing a perfectly good dinner for … ohhh!

She has noticed the misty lake and magic candles rising from it.

CHRISTINE:
Neat.

PHANTOM:
Yeah. Wait till you see my boat.

CHRISTINE:
You mean the one stuck on that candelabra over there?

PHANTOM:
Damn that Buquet, he promised he had fixed it! Oh well, on with the show!

The Phantom sings. Christine attempts to kiss him, but is repeatedly rebuffed.

CHRISTINE:
You do realise it’s not just dinner that I’m missing out on? A bit of cooperation would be nice!

PHANTOM:
I knew you would appreciate the tortured strains of my music! I put my whole soul, my life, my very being into this opera, Christine, and only you can sing it! Imagine it, you will be dressed in this charming number by Chanel which you can see demonstrated here on my handmade dressmaker’s dummy…

DUMMY:
Ta-daa!!

CHRISTINE:
*faints, mostly from hunger*

PHANTOM:
Hmm. Perhaps tomorrow then. Here, sleep on this cold damp floor for a while.

CHRISTINE:
I bet Raoul is eating prawns, and asparagus with hollandaise sauce, and chocolate… *falls asleep*

While she sleeps, we are treated to a little horror show by Buquet, who shows no sign of remorse for not having fixed the boat.

BUQUET:
Parchment, I say! Yellow parchment!

BALLET GIRLS:
AAAARGGH!

GIRY:
Keep your hands at the level of your eyes, and off my merchandise, errr – students.

And now back to the lair.

PHANTOM:
*lost in composing*

CHRISTINE:
*wakes up*

LIGHTS:
*blush a suggestive golden hue*

CHRISTINE:
Hmm… Wasn’t there supposed to be a boat?

PHANTOM:
*lost in composing*

CHRISTINE:
…and a – man?

PHANTOM:
*lost in composing*

CHRISTINE:
Hey, are you my secret admirer? Are you going to bring me chocolates and poodles and visit me after midnight in my dressing-room? And who are you, anyway?

She yanks off his mask in delighted anticipation.

PHANTOM:
AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!

CHRISTINE:
Oh shit.

PHANTOM:
This is the worst day of what passes for my miserable, twisted, stunted, cold, lonely, woefully incomplete LIFE! And now you must share it with me!

CHRISTINE:
Um. Sorry? *passes him the mask*

PHANTOM:
*puts on mask sulkily*

CHRISTINE:
Can we eat now?

PHANTOM:
No! It’s time to return.

Meanwhile, in the managers’ office...

ANDRE (or FIRMIN):
According to the media, we’re the most successful management team ever.

FIRMIN (or ANDRE):
Yeah! Except we used to have one singer…

ANDRE (or FIRMIN):
… and now we don’t have any. Plus, we’re a dancer short.

FIRMIN:
How do we explain that to the investors?

ANDRE (or FIRMIN):
Budget cuts?

CARLOTTA:
*arrives in state, accompanied by Piangi and followed by her entire entourage*

FIRMIN (or ANDRE):
Well, that’s the singer shortage sorted.

ANDRE (or FIRMIN):
Pity she’s the expensive one, though.

CARLOTTA:
I am not here to sing! I am here to file a harassment suit against whoever sent me this – this – this Howler!

PHANTOM’S NOTE:
*makes musical threats of extortion*

RAOUL:
*arrives in a state*

CARLOTTA:
A-ha! It was the Vicomte, Christine’s lover!

RAOUL:
Me?! It’s these two monsters who have imprisoned her under their wings!

MANAGERS:
Us?!

ALL:
*Compare notes*

GIRY:
Christine came this morning by return of post.

MANAGERS:
Haha, we’re in luck! You’re history, Carlotta! Bring in the younger, cheaper, prettier model!

GIRY:
I sent her home.

MANAGERS:
What?!

MEG:
She needed rest.

RAOUL:
Oh god! She has been deflowered! Debased! Debauched! Never again will she sing…

GIRY:
Oh yes she will. Tonight, and tomorrow night, and every night to the end of time! Thus speaketh the Phantom. *bangs cane*

MANAGERS:
You mean this – this Phantom, he wants her to sing?

GIRY:
Oh yes. Tonight and tomorrow night and---

MANAGERS:
Carlotta, darling! Diva! Light of our collective lives! Forgive us! Return!

CARLOTTA:
That’s more like it.

Premiere of Il Muto. Mozart is spinning in his grave, much like the Phantom is currently doing in his lair. Christine is stuck in the silent role.

MOZART-ESQUE CAST:
*pantomime for three sopranos and a man with horns*

MANAGERS:
This is soooooooo cool. We get a box and everything. Say, how come it was free? I thought we had a sell-out show!

RAOUL:
Quiet, you’re missing the best bit.

CHRISTINE:
*pretends to smooch Carlotta*

AUDIENCE:
*laughter of approval*

PHANTOM:
Who sat in my box?! Who ate all my porridge?!

MANAGERS:
*gulp*

CARLOTTA:
*croak*

GIRY:
Told you so.

PHANTOM:
Oh and also? You’re a stagehand short! Mwahahaha! MWAHAHAHA! MWAH! Hey, wait a minute, Christine! Where do you think you’re going?

MANAGERS:
Did he just blow us a kiss?

CHRISTINE:
To the roof, Raoul!

RAOUL:
To the roof!

PHANTOM:
To the roof!

AUDIENCE:
To the roof!

MANAGERS:
Sit. Down. It’s called – uh – postmodernism. That’s right. What you have experienced was not a the dangling corpse of an inebriated carpenter interrupting a ballet, but a clever comment on the false sense of security man creates for himself by the—

Meanwhile on the roof.

CHRISTINE:
And I am telling *you*, he’s real! I’ve been there! I’ve seen ‘im!

RAOUL:
Oh Christine! Where is your careful elocution?

CHRISTINE:
I always revert to my peasant origins under pressure, you of all people ought to know that, Monsieur Childhood Sweetheart.

RAOUL:
Oh. Peasant you say? Uh – you know, I don’t think my parents will be too happy about…

CHRISTINE:
Say you LOVE me! Or else!

RAOUL:
But, Christine, I really…

CHRISTINE:
*kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiss*

RAOUL:
Christine, I lo-o-o-o-ve you…

CHRISTINE:
Right. Bring your best horses and a mink stole, six pm sharp.

RAOUL:
And then you’ll be beside me, and I can – you know – we can …

CHRISTINE:
Every night.

RAOUL:
Promise?

CHRISTINE:
Cross my heart and hope to die.

PHANTOM:
Take that, world! *crashes chandelier*

...Six months later.

MASQUERADE CROWD LED BY FIGURE OF A MONKEY PLAYING THE CYMBALS:
*psychedelic prance*

CHRISTINE:
Look, your future bride!

RAOUL:
May I remind you that I’ve been *looking* for six months, it’s now Halloween, and we are we still here. Why, Christine? Why?

CHRISTINE:
Because I’m worth it.

ALL:
*mad waltz*

PHANTOM:
Greetings, earthlings.

ALL:
*stop and stare*

PHANTOM:
I come bearing gifts. Well, one. But it’s really, really good, I promise, I spent all this time writing it and even though you cannot possibly appreciate the tortured strains of my twisted soul that have been ripped from my very spirit, I will condescend to let you stage this anyway, for a very reasonable fee of only 20,000 francs a month, fees and charges apply.

CHRISTINE:
Is there a part for me?

RAOUL:
Hey!

PHANTOM:
What is this cheap jewellery in your cleavage? Never mind, I need you for pages 14 through 23, and again from 25 to 80, then again---

CHRISTINE:
Fourteen?! And what happens in the first 13 pages?

PHANTOM:
That’s the overture.

CHRISTINE:
Hmph. Not interested.

PHANTOM:
I don’t recall asking you. You will sing for meeeeee!

He vanishes in a blinding flash of light.

AUDIENCE:
*rapid blinking*

RAOUL:
Madame Giry! What do you know about all this?

GIRY:
Nothing. Except, this one time, in freak camp, there was a keeper who didn’t lock his cell and his freak escaped.

RAOUL:
And…?

GIRY:
And let that be a lesson to you: keep your eyes on your freaks and your hand at the level of your eyes!

RAOUL:
I … see.

GIRY:
Thus speaketh the Phantom. *sweeps past*

RAOUL:
*scratches head* You mean, we need to cage our freak… Oh! Eureka! Haha! I have it!

Back in the managers’ office.

CHRISTINE:
Nope. Sorry. No way Jose. Not doing it.

MANAGERS:
But Miss whatever your name is! This is our chance to plug a 20,000 franc hole in our budget!

RAOUL:
Just think, Christine – one number in his horrid opera, and then we’re free! Flying as far as we can!

CHRISTINE:
Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to pay my respects to my father. Who, you may remember, is dead.

ALL:
*respectful silence*

CHRISTINE:
And don’t think about following me!

At the cemetery. Christine is throwing things at the tomb of her father.

CHRISTINE:
All those wasted years! All that training! And for what?! For what, I ask you, when all I get is a lousy cubic zirconium and only one single mink stole and 13 pages of overture!

PHANTOM:
Wandering child, so lost, so helpless…

CHRISTINE:
I hope you’re here to apologise.

PHANTOM:
Yearning for my guidance…

RAOUL:
There she is, talking to herself again! Right, Christine, I’m taking you home to bed.

CHRISTINE:
Bed?

PHANTOM:
Just you wait till you see this opera.

Rehearsal for Don Juan.

PIANO:
*plays by itself*

SINGERS:
*sing by themselves*

PHANTOM (exhausted):
Right, that does it. Next time I’m building a puppet theatre.

Premiere of Don Juan Triumphant.

CHIEF OF POLICE:
Have you secured the premises? Cordoned off the perimeter? Barred all the doors?

POLICEMEN:
Yessir.

MANAGERS and RAOUL:
Perfect! Bring in the audience!

CHIEF OF POLICE:
Um – how?

AUDIENCE:
No worries, we’re already here.

PHANTOM:
Me too!

POLICEMAN:
He’s here! *shoots a stagehand*

MANAGERS:
Hey! They don’t grow on trees, you know!

RAOUL:
As this theatre’s only surviving sponsor, I object to the wanton destruction of employees. And besides, you’ll spook Christine and then she’ll pull out, and then where would we be?

PHANTOM:
In a sealed, locked theatre with meeeeeee!!!!!! MWAHAHAHAHA!!

OVERTURE:
*Screech! Wheeeeaaaiiiinee! Squeaaaaaak!*

AUDIENCE:
The Phantom was Shostakovich?

PIANGI (as DON JUAN):
Blah blah cross-dressing blah blah forget myself and LAUGH!

CHRISTINE (as AMINTA):
I will sing, but I will not enjoy it.

PHANTOM (as DON JUAN):
Yes you will.

CHRISTINE:
*tries to bite into an apple*

PHANTOM:
*snatches apple away*

CHRISTINE:
Hey!

PHANTOM:
Sing first. Eat later. Always been my motto.

CHRISTINE:
Well, that explains it!

PHANTOM:
Meaning?

CHRISTINE:
An apple a day, and you might have been perfectly fine!

PHANTOM:
I am perfectly fine now! I am singing in my own beloved opera, born from the tortured strains of my very soul, why wouldn’t I be fine? Anyway, here, have a drink, it’ll calm your nerves before the big event.

CHRISTINE:
Ha. It’s you who should be drinking, Erik.

PHANTOM:
Did you just call me – Oh. Oh, my.

CHRISTINE:
*feels him up from behind*

PHANTOM:
Can I have that drink now?

CHRISTINE:
Sorry, time’s a-wasting! *yanks off his mask*

MASK:
*thwack!*

AUDIENCE:
Ohhh! Wow!

PHANTOM:
Why, Christine? WHYYYYYYYY?

CHRISTINE:
You know, I’m not sure…

They drag each other off the stage, kicking and screaming.

RAOUL:
Wait for me!

GIRY:
Keep your hand at the level of your eyes!

RAOUL:
Thanks. Thanks, that’s real helpful. And convincing. NOT!

GIRY:
Thus speaketh the Phantom! *thumps cane*

RAOUL:
Ah well, that completely changes things. Here goes nothing! *Raises hands to the level of his eyes, and jumps into lake*

LAKE:
*gulp*

AUDIENCE:
*gasp*

MANAGERS:
Did she just drown our only source of cashflow?! And is that…

BALLET GIRLS:
Piangi! He’s been strangled!

MEG:
The Phantom of the Opera! AAAAAAAARGGGH!

MANAGERS:
We’re ruined!

Meanwhile in the coldest, dampest, most unpleasant basement you can possibly imagine…

PHANTOM:
My precious, irreplaceable, agonisingly soul-searing opera! *strokes pages of score, which for some reason are back in his lair* Never again shall it have a chance to see the light of day, no never again, never… Whoa.

CHRISTINE:
*storms onstage, wearing the Wedding Dress from the doll*

PHANTOM:
Don’t forget the ring. The Vicomte paid good money for it.

DRESSMAKER’S DUMMY:
Never have I been this humiliated in my life. Dismembered and practically naked!

AUDIENCE:
Well, at least it’s wasn’t inflatable…

CHRISTINE:
You, you – you… You don’t just look like this! You *are* like this! All the way through to your sick, twisted, miserable soul!

PHANTOM:
Well, hello and welcome to the program! And you know what? It really, really sucks! Oh look, here’s your little friend.

RAOUL:
*emerges from lake* Hey, is that my ring?

PHANTOM:
Monsieur, you are dripping on my carpet.

RAOUL:
Oh, sorry.

PUNJAB LASSO:
Wheeee!

RAOUL:
*strangled sound*

PHANTOM:
Gotcha. (To Christine) Continue, do. You were saying – my twisted soul?

CHRISTINE:
You’re mad!

PHANTOM:
C’est moi.

CHRISTINE:
Pitiful!

PHANTOM:
Oh yes.

CHRISTINE:
Deformed!

PHANTOM:
So my mother told me.

CHRISTINE:
A clinging, desperate creature of darkness!

PHANTOM:
This is doing nothing for my self-esteem. Choose: him, or me! A difficult choice, I know, but surely you are capable of –

CHRISTINE:
*smoooooch*

PHANTOM:
Oh. Oh, my…

CHRISTINE:
*hug*

PHANTOM:
…God—

CHRISTINE:
*censored*

PHANTOM:
—ddess.

CHRISTINE:
I know.

PHANTOM:
You – me – it – they – was that? – whoa.

CHRISTINE:
…Yeah.

RAOUL:
Hey! People!

CHRISTINE (to the PHANTOM):
I’m still going to leave, you know.

PHANTOM (dazed):
Uh-huh.

CHRISTINE:
And I’m taking Raoul.

PHANTOM:
Uh-huh.

CHRISTINE:
And keeping the dress.

PHANTOM:
Sure thing…

CHRISTINE:
Well – thanks for everything.

PHANTOM:
Yeah. *touches cheek* Did you really just…?

RAOUL:
Excuse me!

PHANTOM:
Oh yeah. *breaks noose holding Raoul*

RAOUL:
Thanks.

PHANTOM:
Don’t mention it. I mean that. Don’t even think about betraying the secrets you know – of the Angel in Hell!

RAOUL:
What secrets, the freakshow thing?

CHRISTINE:
Freakshow?

PHANTOM:
GO! Go now! AND LEAVE ME!

CHRISTINE:
A little melodramatic, don’t you think?

MOB IN THE DISTANCE:
Kill the beast!

PHANTOM:
Get out! Scoot! Shoo!

CHRISTINE:
But…

MOB GETTING CLOSER:
Crucify him, crucify him!

PHANTOM:
Out, out, out! Clear the set, do you hear me?

CHRISTINE:
Well, okay… If you insist.

The happy couple depart.

PHANTOM:
*sob*

BARREL ORGAN IN THE SHAPE OF A MONKEY:
*hug*

A split second later…

CHRISTINE:
Hey, you wanna keep the ring? Raoul says he’ll buy me a bigger one.

PHANTOM:
Oh. Thanks. I guess.

CHRISTINE:
Well – cheers. Thank you for, you know, the music… For giving it to me…

RING:
*sparkle sadly*

PHANTOM:
Christine, I love you…

CHRISTINE:
It’s just the afterglow.

PHANTOM:
I love you…

CHRISTINE:
I’ll come visit. Bring you apples.

PHANTOM:
I love you…

CHRISTINE:
Lots of apples.

PHANTOM:
*Sigh*

CHRISTINE:
*Sigh*

RAOUL (from boat):
Can we keep the monkey?

PHANTOM and CHRISTINE:
NO!

Raoul:
*Sigh*

They leave. The Phantom covers himself in his cloak and disappears, just as the mob arrives on the scene. There is a long, sad pause. Meg throws back the cloak to find the Phantom’s chair empty. All that remains is a scrap of white on the floor, which Meg picks up reverently, and holds up to the single, intense spotlight…

MEG:
Mother? Can I keep the mask?!