Lots of folks would agree that good mime is hard to find. (Perhaps even more people -- especially those who have seen "Shakes the Clown" -- would argue that "good mime" is a contradiction in terms). Well, it's even harder to find one now.
I admit to having had many laughs over bad mimes, and I fully expect to have more in the future. But today I mourn the passing of THE good mime, Marcel Marceau.
My first year of college, an assignment required that I attend Mr. Marceau's one-night-only performance on our campus, and write a review that would comprise a not-insignificant portion of my grade for that term. I sat in the packed house that night expecting to watch some kind of goofball try to act his way out of an invisible box.
That's not what I saw. Instead, I saw touching, amazing, genuine artistry. I made a good grade on the review I wrote, but sitting here fifteen years later, the performance is difficult to describe. I vividly remember watching his assistants, who often did little more than elegantly display a banner bearing the title of the next sketch, and realizing that my years of dance training had not qualified me to even hold a sign for this man.
Mr. Marceau was more than an entertainer. During the Holocaust, as his own father died in Auschwitz, he joined the French Resistance and worked to protect Jewish children. An AP story included his own reflection on that mission: "Among those kids was maybe an Einstein, a Mozart, somebody who (would have) found a cancer drug. That is why we have a great responsibility. Let us love one another."
Adieu... 1923-2007
Lots of folks would agree that good mime is hard to find. (Perhaps even more people -- especially those who have seen "Shakes the Clown" -- would argue that "good mime" is a contradiction in terms). Well, it's even harder to find one now.
My first year of college, an assignment required that I attend Mr. Marceau's one-night-only performance on our campus, and write a review that would comprise a not-insignificant portion of my grade for that term. I sat in the packed house that night expecting to watch some kind of goofball try to act his way out of an invisible box.
That's not what I saw. Instead, I saw touching, amazing, genuine artistry. I made a good grade on the review I wrote, but sitting here fifteen years later, the performance is difficult to describe. I vividly remember watching his assistants, who often did little more than elegantly display a banner bearing the title of the next sketch, and realizing that my years of dance training had not qualified me to even hold a sign for this man.
Mr. Marceau was more than an entertainer. During the Holocaust, as his own father died in Auschwitz, he joined the French Resistance and worked to protect Jewish children. An AP story included his own reflection on that mission: "Among those kids was maybe an Einstein, a Mozart, somebody who (would have) found a cancer drug. That is why we have a great responsibility. Let us love one another."
Let us love one another.
Sep 24, 2007 2:41:50 PM | Commentary
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