Cabaret Bastille at Cellspace was almost a smashing good time.
I admit I am disproportionately delighted by parties with costume themes, and there were some glorious vintage and vintage-inspired get-ups at this Litquake event on Thursday. Yvonne Michelle Cordoba (and friend?) performed lovely quasiburlesque and belly dance at intervals.
|Gorgeous vintage getups at the Cabaret Bastille|
A problem was that the entertainment emphasis of the night was on the readings (popular contemporary authors reading the works of the lost-generation greats). Cellspace
is cavernous, and its sound system inadequate for the readings to have been audible to anyone farther than four rows back. Except for Alan Black's bellowing from James Joyce, most of the readings simply didn't register (through no fault of the readers themselves).
Because poor acoustics and absinthe brain-soakage made hearing or comprehending the readings impossible, my friends and I went upstairs to watch "blue films," modern pornography's quaint ancestor. Certain elements haven't changed much in the past 90 years -- same risible plots, same dead-eyed self-loathing. Of course there's more hair, more fat, more sag, more lace bonnets, and more layers of clothing (that the men must pause their boners for longer than is possible without chemical aid) to remove. More »