The play Shaw vs Tunney is based on a book (The Prizefighter and the Playwright), written by one of Tunney’s sons, about the friendship between George Bernard Shaw and world heavyweight boxing champion Gene Tunney.
I have seen and liked one of the playwright Doug Post’s other efforts (see previous blog regarding Forty-Two Stories). So it pains me to say that this play should have been named Shaw and Tunney vs Audience. Both Shaw and Tunney are fascinating people, but instead of Six Characters in Search of an Author, this seemed like three characters in search of a play (Tunney’s wife Polly is the third character).
This was a Remy Bumppo Theater Company production. The name Remy Bumppo is a combination of the names of one of the founders’ cat (in turn named after Remy Martin cognac) and another’s black Labrador (named for Natty Bumppo, of the Leatherstocking Tales).
The cat theme found its way into the play, when Shaw, in discussing his failing health, said to Tunney: “When the cat leaves the room, he may never see me alive again.” This made me think of Schrödinger’s cat, except, instead of the cat being dead and alive at the same time until the box is opened, it’s Shaw being dead and alive until the cat returns to the room and the play being dead and alive until you see it.
Throughout the play, Shaw refers to himself as GBS. At first, because of his heavy Irish accent, I thought he was saying GPS, which made perfect sense to me as the play seemed to be in need of direction.
My suggestion is that if you’re interested in something Shaw-related, head to New York to see the revival of My Fair Lady at Lincoln Center.
Just as I was about to enter the zoo, I encountered three staff members trying to recycle (see photo of one staffer with a telltale blue container) a snapping turtle that apparently had escaped captivity. He wasn’t hard to run down – he was, after all, a turtle – but bringing him to justice proved to be a little more difficult. I learned two lessons – it’s easier if, unlike in the photo, the open end of the container is facing the deserter and be sure to protect your hands when handling a snapping turtle (the unseen staff were procuring thick gloves to aid in the eventual arrest).
It’s not everyday that you get invited to a birthday party at a glass blowing studio (great idea). My uncle had done glass blowing as a hobby for years, but he was a scientist with expertise in combustion, so I took no comfort from his experience.