Here's a hip new term for you. It seems that Robertson Davies' 1992 novel The Fifth Business (part of the Deptford Trilogy) is becoming all the rage again--specifically the meaning of that cryptic title. The Fifth Business refers to that all important character in a dramatic form that causes all the action to spiral out of control--without realizing it. Thus, you have the four "businesses"--the protagonist (Clinton), the antagonist (Starr), the love interest (Monica) and the figure presiding over the resolution (Hillary). And then you have the "fifth business"; in the Clinton scandal, it would be the secretary who unwittingly gave Monica Lewinsky that first file to deliver to a horny Bill. Look back at a past incident in your life. Or your favorite book on the shelf (Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are the ultimate "fifth business"). It's trendy lingo for your table talk.
THE BITING IRISH
We were invited to a preview performance of Riverdance this past week (now playing at the Wang Theater through Nov. 9). Riverdance is one of those things that everyone instinctively makes fun of without ever having experienced (like Titanic, Melanie Griffith, etc.) But it's an unfair judgment--the dancing is phenomenal. Skipping and clicking across the stage like gazelles, these performers are among the most talented in the world. Riverdance deserves its success. But I worry. See, the dancers can really only last 10-15 minutes at a time because the intensity and energy required for a particular number is excruciating. So the rest of the time is filler--often thuddingly, anachronistic, cliched, diluted filler. At one point, a blues singer launches into almost a mini-opera about liberation from bondage (I confused it for a Civil War hymn at first)--it entirely changes the show's tone. Seconds later, of course, the bouncing Irish return to claim their stage. But the most egregious offense comes a few acts later. A group of African-American dancers saunter onto stage wearing black (get it! get it!) and start to boogie--and I mean exaggerated, highly offensive, stereotypical "boogie-ing"--to the generic beats of a sunglasses-wearing saxophone player. A second later, a group of beautiful blond Irish dancers all wearing white (aha!) enter stage left to start a little friendly competition with these upstarts. It's embarrassing. But the audience ate it up. Even more embarrassing.
Questions, Comments, Complaints?
E-mail schainan@fas