The Miraculous Mandarin

EVERYTHING IS PERFECTLY FINE

          Up at 1 for some What's Playing at Symphony Hall. Today we discussed the composer Gustav Mahler. Specifically, we talked about how he was ballin' some lady named Alma and how she had an affair with this guy named Gropius (the name just screams "creeper") and then another short-lived fling with this other guy, Oscar Kokoschka. Oscar, like any sensible person, commissioned a life-size doll of Alma -- see photo. Nightmare fuel.
          I went to the symphony this evening. Again, quite decently placed seats, if a bit far back. There were two pretty okay performances: Berlioz's Roman Carnival and Mozart's Piano Concerto. These were followed by a bizarre contemporary piece (Flute Concerto by Carter) and finally the highlight of my evening: the music from The Miraculous Mandarin, composed by Bela Bartok. Brief synopsis: ruffians convince prostitute to attract men so they can rob them. They throw out an old chap and a shy young guy due to lack of money, and then a Mandarin with "eyes burning with a mysterious fire" walks in. They try to kill him in three or four ways, and all he does is take on a sort of green glow. The hooker, who apparently has a heart of gold, is moved by his passion and -- depending on whose account you subscribe to -- either embraces the Mandarin or gets freaky with it. Anyway, he stops glowing and dies thanks to her act of compassion. Iris, of course, is the Miraculous Mandarin from this point forward.
          We watched an excellent film tonight: Insomnia, that is, the remake starring Al Pacino and Robin Williams. Lauren, Laura, Sean and Ryan all fell victim to sleep and left, leaving only Alaric and I to finish the movie. I highly recommend it if you like police procedurals. I definitely recommend it if you want to see Robin Williams as an unnervingly creepy, uncomfortably believable and distinctly unfunny villain.
          Lastly, Iris: in response to your blog, I have many sharp objects in my room. Your pitiful countermeasures will come to nothing.