Who is Jeu Jeu la Foille? She is the one who makes a mess, Vicky is the one who cleans it up. Jeu Jeu is a mixture of sassiness and fragility. She will tell you all of her secrets, but lie about her past. She is a broken down chanteuse, she's had a glittering career, and now she wants to reveal the darker side of show-business. She's jaded, she's reached the end of her tether, her youthful looks are fading, but she's comfortable with her body. She's sexy without being sexualised. She plays with danger. She loves word play, she lives for rhyme and rhythm. She's finally come to terms with the way she looks, having feared for most her life that she was ugly. There is an element of the narcissist in her, she stared too long at herself and lost the very thing that was unique and wonderful about her. She's governed by the moon, the moon intimidates her, but she swims in it's romanticism. She feels fear, doubt and guilt, but never shame. She is reborn every springtime, she was born on April 1st. Winter always feels to long for her, but she can never wait for summer to be over. She looks at life through the bottom of an ashtray. She like a single malt whiskey, complex and layered. Maybe she stings or burns if you aren't used to her. She's an acquired taste. Has she had a frontal lobotomy? Is she considering one? Is Tom Waits having a dream about her?
When I started writing Frontal Lobotomy, I was asked the question Who is Tom Waits to me? I wrote down all of the things he was to me, and from that came the poem 'Late Night Conversation' that I perform in the show. Sometimes when I read that poem in preparation for a show I get a little bit tearful. I think about how it will sound when Tom Waits is no longer with us - will I have to change it? Over last Christmas I experienced a lot of fear and self-doubt over the show, I couldn't believe how well it done so far, and was terrified that I wasn't good enough. A successful musician friend I explained this to the other night asked me why I had written the show, I could've thought of something profound, or worthy, or gone into a long monologue on my creative process, but instead I chose to be simple and honest 'I just really love Tom Waits.' It's safe to say that I've got my mojo back now, but Winter felt long this year. I've started working with a director, my good friend Simon Nader (I checked that he wouldn't mind me using his name here). We went to university together, saw each other only a handful of times in the intermittent 20 years, and then were reunited at the Edinburgh Fringe last year - where Frontal Lobotomy debuted. Simon saw the show a number of times at the Fringe, and was a huge help and encouragement to me there and since. I think we probably have quite contrasting tastes when it comes to theatre, and our training pathways were considerably different, and I know he'll really help me as he already loves the show and sees it's potential. Having worked a little bit with Simon before my performance on April 8th in London, I can already see how much I've taken for granted in my vocal delivery. Both Simon and the friends who saw the show on Saturday commented on how well I moved, the slow movement being really tantalising and full of tension, but allowing time for all of the words to be digested. The trouble is the many of the poems and stories are coming out flat or monotone, the feedback was that I'm not yet living the words fully, there is room for much more variation and play - the key word was play. The show is endearing, it's sweet, and very strange. Feedback on my performance is the cheeky confidence and strong presence I exude - this is definitely Jeu Jeu, not Vicky.
The doctor writing a letter - recording in a dictaphone to Jeu Jeu
Haiku's are composed of 3 lines, each a phrase. The first line typically has 5 syllables, second line has 7 and the 3rd and last line repeats another 5. Seasonal reference - two ideas brought together. Cutting word
Dear Jeu Jeu la Foille
Doctor Walter Freeman here
How are you feeling?
Maybe you feel strange
Maybe you feel null and void
It's necessary
This operation
Can I come visit you soon
Perhaps there's success
When I started writing Frontal Lobotomy, I was asked the question Who is Tom Waits to me? I wrote down all of the things he was to me, and from that came the poem 'Late Night Conversation' that I perform in the show. Sometimes when I read that poem in preparation for a show I get a little bit tearful. I think about how it will sound when Tom Waits is no longer with us - will I have to change it? Over last Christmas I experienced a lot of fear and self-doubt over the show, I couldn't believe how well it done so far, and was terrified that I wasn't good enough. A successful musician friend I explained this to the other night asked me why I had written the show, I could've thought of something profound, or worthy, or gone into a long monologue on my creative process, but instead I chose to be simple and honest 'I just really love Tom Waits.' It's safe to say that I've got my mojo back now, but Winter felt long this year. I've started working with a director, my good friend Simon Nader (I checked that he wouldn't mind me using his name here). We went to university together, saw each other only a handful of times in the intermittent 20 years, and then were reunited at the Edinburgh Fringe last year - where Frontal Lobotomy debuted. Simon saw the show a number of times at the Fringe, and was a huge help and encouragement to me there and since. I think we probably have quite contrasting tastes when it comes to theatre, and our training pathways were considerably different, and I know he'll really help me as he already loves the show and sees it's potential. Having worked a little bit with Simon before my performance on April 8th in London, I can already see how much I've taken for granted in my vocal delivery. Both Simon and the friends who saw the show on Saturday commented on how well I moved, the slow movement being really tantalising and full of tension, but allowing time for all of the words to be digested. The trouble is the many of the poems and stories are coming out flat or monotone, the feedback was that I'm not yet living the words fully, there is room for much more variation and play - the key word was play. The show is endearing, it's sweet, and very strange. Feedback on my performance is the cheeky confidence and strong presence I exude - this is definitely Jeu Jeu, not Vicky.
The doctor writing a letter - recording in a dictaphone to Jeu Jeu
Haiku's are composed of 3 lines, each a phrase. The first line typically has 5 syllables, second line has 7 and the 3rd and last line repeats another 5. Seasonal reference - two ideas brought together. Cutting word
Dear Jeu Jeu la Foille
Doctor Walter Freeman here
How are you feeling?
Maybe you feel strange
Maybe you feel null and void
It's necessary
This operation
Can I come visit you soon
Perhaps there's success
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