An Evening of Thunder

It was back to Stardust last night for a special presentation of Gift of the Magi, a performance brought to us by local marionette troupe Thunder Hag. The experience at Stardust is never an unpleasant one, and the morale this particular evening was amplified by the anticipation of the oncoming folk art performance, regardless of the dismal atmosphere induced by the gloominess outside.

The play had been postponed briefly while the troupe tried to recollect themselves after being chased out of their intended venue for the performance (the parking lot) and the secondary location was a considerable compromise in contrast to the breathing room offered by the troupe’s first choice in stage. Yet ever faithful to their art, the marionette team assembled themselves in front of the expansive collection of DVDs synonymous with the Stardust Lounge instead.

The steady drizzle wasn’t offering anyone much of a choice, so grudgingly everyone in attendance piled inside- including the local growers present to offer their wares at Stardust’s weekly Farmer’s Market- and reluctantly everyone submitted to a mutual unease due to the level of intimacy at which we were all commingling. As soon as I stepped in, I found myself completely submerged in the overlapping of voices, aromas and additional perceptual textures. It was a little stifling.

But a few minutes of slinking around the table corners of vendors propounding cartons of eggs from free-range hens and locally-produced vegan chocolate was enough to encourage a sense of camaraderie, primarily because, in truth, the nature of this event was underscored by a virtue of humanity among both the performers and the attendees. Also partially because the space necessitated us to put forth at least a meager effort to be neighborly.

Incidentally I bumped into Brian Feldman who was looking a little more limber and seemed to be in much higher spirits than he had been during our most recent encounter. I got the chance to ask him the questions I’d been pondering since we last met. For example, what was the worst part about being stuffed inside a skillcrane for sixteen hours? After a moment of reflection, Feldman admitted that the worst facet of the experience was a tie between the tediousness of the endeavor and the inability to visit the bathroom.

The performance was a brief one, but the intricacy of the set design, the fully embodied energy of the cast, and the intrigue of the questions raised by the play and left to the interpretation of the audience imparted nothing less than a warm satisfaction resonating among us, in the fashion that only a genuinely soulful performance can really do.