Author Topic: Anne Hathaway as Fighter Pilot in ‘Grounded’ (the PublicTheater/NYC thru May 24)  (Read 5093 times)

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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http://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/27/theater/anne-hathaways-solo-turn-as-a-fighter-pilot-in-grounded-at-the-public-theater.html


THEATER

Review:
Anne Hathaway
as a Fighter Pilot in
‘Grounded’
at the Public Theater

NYT Critics’ Pick
By CHARLES ISHERWOOD
APRIL 26, 2015





Here’s some unusual tabloid fodder: Anne Hathaway has joined the Air Force!

Well, no, not really. But that Oscar-winning actor gives a fiercely good performance as a cocky pilot raining bombs down on Iraq and Afghanistan in the solo play “Grounded,” by George Brant. Nor is Ms. Hathaway the only A-lister involved in the production, which opened on Sunday at the Public Theater. The show has been staged by Julie Taymor, the Tony-winning film and theater director whose reputation has latterly been somewhat dented by the folly that was “Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark.”

In its comparative simplicity and economy, “Grounded” could be seen as a departure of sorts for both artists. Ms. Hathaway is alone onstage for about 85 minutes, with scarcely a costume change, although Ms. Taymor has provided a sleek, high-tech production surrounding her. And while the material is not new — I reviewed an excellent smaller-scale production last year — Mr. Brant’s play draws a nuanced and haunting portrait of a woman serving in the United States Armed Forces coming under pressure as the human cost of war, for combatants as well as civilians, slowly eats away at her well-armored psyche.

The intriguing irony upon which the play rests is that Ms. Hathaway’s character, who remains unnamed, doesn’t begin to lose her steady grip on the righteousness of her work until she has been plucked from the sky, “the blue” as she calls it, in awe-struck, even worshipful tones. Early in the play, the pilot exudes a brash but not off-putting arrogance. Speaking of the pilot suit she’s earned, she says: “I never wanted to take it off. ... This was who I was now, who I’d become through sweat and brains and guts. This is me.”

She takes pride in just being one of the guys, and Ms. Hathaway, with her hair cropped short, a down-home twang in her voice and a masculine swagger in her stride, does indeed seem to be the kind of gal who would much rather be knocking back beers with her fellow pilots than, say, doing her nails. Home on leave in Wyoming, she’s doing just that (the beer, not the nails) when she meets Eric, the rare man who isn’t put off by her choice of career.

“Most guys don’t like what I do,” she says bluntly, but with a mischievous sense of pleasure. “Feel they’re less of a guy around me. I take the guy spot, and they don’t know where they belong.”

But for Eric, who works in the family hardware store, a woman in macho pilot’s gear is a turn-on. (She agrees to have sex with the suit on, but only once.) And although her life has been bound up in her career — in that ecstatic communion with the sky — soon she finds herself unexpectedly attached. “First time I’m sad leave is over,” she notes. A few weeks later the real (metaphoric) bomb drops: She’s pregnant, and as a result, grounded. Working a desk job. “The pilot’s nightmare,” she says bitterly.

As Ms. Hathaway circles the small stage of the Anspacher Theater, the only real prop on hand is a silver chair that descends (with rather unnecessary spectacle, actually) from the skies. It’s now from the safe, anonymous atmosphere of an armchair in a military facility in Las Vegas that this pilot will be “flying” — without leaving the ground, or getting even a glimpse of blue. She’ll be controlling the drones that are increasingly (and controversially) being used by the United States to wage war in the Middle East.

Our heroine doesn’t exactly leap for joy when she’s enlisted in what she derisively calls the “chair force.” But with a new baby and a new husband, she returns to duty, this time tracking bad guys in Afghanistan, for 12 hours a day, seven days a week. And there are compensations: “I will see my daughter grow up,” she says. “I will kiss my husband good night every night. No tracer fire. ...The threat of death has been removed.”

Those words come to take on a dark significance as the pilot becomes immersed in her new job. For while the threat of danger to herself has certainly evaporated, the responsibility of making life and death choices while waging war from an emotional distance begins to unsettle and unnerve her. “Grounded” implicitly suggests that engaging in combat from a place of relative safety may take just as harsh a psychological toll as traditional deployment.

For the first time we begin to hear hints of doubt and anxiety in Ms. Hathaway’s hitherto confident voice. Suddenly, hands that used to firmly grip the controls of a plane become sweaty on the joystick. With the high-definition video giving a precise picture of the havoc being wrought below, she can see the raw reality of the bomb blasts, as body parts fly up amid the wreckage. She’s also forced to watch American forces as they die, when the drones are required to linger over battle sites, “as one by one their bodies slowly turn the same gray as the sand.”

Some baggy or repetitive passages notwithstanding, Mr. Brant’s writing largely remains taut, terse and concentrated on exposing the fissures that open in the heroine’s confidence and sense of honor. Ms. Taymor and Ms. Hathaway allow the words to remain at the forefront of “Grounded,” even as we are also treated to impressive video displays that show us what the pilot sees as she stares into “the gray” of the desert for hours every day. (Peter Nigrini’s projections play an integral role.) A tilted black glass wall at the back of the stage reflects the action, adding a ghostly dimension to the production that suggests the underside of what the pilot is experiencing: the gradual onset of something akin to post-traumatic stress disorder stealing upon her from behind.

Ms. Hathaway expertly delineates the gradual disintegration of her character’s equilibrium. In a particularly sharp passage, the pilot takes her daughter to the mall and finds herself unusually disturbed by the “little black circle in the corner of the wall,” a surveillance camera that no longer seems a harmless device to her. “There’s always a camera, right? J. C. Penney or Afghanistan. Everything is witnessed.”

The show’s final passages veer into rather too portentous and highfalutin territory, as the pilot stares us down and intones darkly, “You who watch me and think you are safe, know this, know that you are not safe.” Still, the point isn’t an outrageous stretch: “Grounded” has a grimly fresh topicality, with President Obama recently addressing the issue of the dangers of war by drone after an American and an Italian hostage were accidentally killed in a strike in January.

And you get a chill hearing those words spoken by Ms. Hathaway in a voice both harsh and deadened, the eager enthusiasm in her character’s eyes having been extinguished by all those days of staring into the gray anonymity of the deserts, where men, women and even children can die at the push of a button thousands of miles away.



Grounded

By George Brant; directed by Julie Taymor; music and soundscapes by Elliot Goldenthal; sets by Riccardo Hernandez; lighting by Christopher Akerlind; sound by Will Pickens; projections by Peter Nigrini; electronic music by Richard Martinez; production stage manager, Evangeline Rose Whitlock; associate artistic director, Mandy Hackett; associate producer, Maria Goyanes; production executive, Ruth E. Sternberg. Presented by the Public Theater, Oskar Eustis, artistic director; Patrick Willingham, executive director. At the Public Theater, 425 Lafayette Street, at Astor Place, East Village; 212-967-7555, publictheater.org. Through May 24. Running time: 1 hour 25 minutes.

WITH: Anne Hathaway (the Pilot).


www.publictheater.org/


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Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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http://www.theguardian.com/stage/2015/apr/27/grounded-review-anne-hathaway-julie-traymor-public-theater-broadway

Theatre review 4/5 stars
Grounded
Anne Hathaway

goes full throttle in one-woman show
at The Public Theater, New York
Hathaway gives a heightened performance as a drone pilot
and director Julie Taymor turns up all the dials, in a chilling
play about the effects of killing by remote control


By Alexis Soloski
Monday 27 April 2015 11.25 BST


Plane speaking: Anne Hathaway stars in Grounded at the Public theater Photograph: Joan Marcus



The nameless heroine of George Brant’s Grounded  has a schedule many working mothers will recognise. She wakes up, takes her daughter to daycare, goes to her job, comes home, eats dinner with her husband, watches TV and falls asleep. Here’s the twist: the woman is a fighter pilot, and her job entails dropping missiles on military-age males, thousands of miles away. Every day, she sits in a chair at a Nevada airforce base and remotely controls a drone aircraft.

Brant’s monologue, which was seen in Edinburgh in 2013 and off-Broadway in 2014, is back, with a rather more famous figure filling out the flight suit: the Hollywood star Anne Hathaway, who pursued the role after reading a review of an earlier production. She approached Oskar Eustis, the artistic director of the Public theater, and he teamed her with Julie Taymor (of Lion King fame and Spider-Man infamy). This production, unnervingly gorgeous and overwrought, considers the costs of fighting a foreign war from home.




‘Taymor’s command of lighting, sound and projections is unparalleled’ Photograph: Joan Marcus



Hathaway’s pilot wasn’t always a virtual fighter; she flew through several tours in Iraq. She feels most alive, vibrant and whole when she’s up in “the blue”. But after she was grounded by her pregnancy, she went to work with the “chair force”: a group of pilots controlling drones from the safety of BarcaLoungers while staring at a screen at “a world carved out of putty”. So blue has turned to grey. Brant has a stable of metaphors – that blue and that grey, desert sand – and he rides them hard.

You notice these metaphors because Hathaway and Taymor take such pains to materialise and substantiate them, making the figurative literal at every opportunity. As usual, Taymor’s command of lighting, sound and projections is unparalleled. The stage is a raked sand floor, backed by a dark mirror. But on that sand, Taymor conjures up escalators, highways, the Vegas strip, and the statistics and shadows that the pilot sees on her screen. Taymor shows us the blue and the grey and all the shades in between.






Hathaway, too, is at pains to accentuate every syllable. She wouldn’t be the first actor you’d think to cast in such a macho role, and she knows it. This is a consciously chameleonesque performance: movie glamour is exchanged for scraped-back hair and minimal makeup; mid-Atlantic vowels for Wyoming drawl. In the opening moments, Hathaway shows just how hard she’s working to make this character persuasive. But eventually she relaxes into it. Or maybe we relax into her. The script demands a heightened performance, especially as the pilot grows increasingly unstrapped from observable reality, and Hathaway delivers. Monomania is one of her specialties, and she goes full throttle here.

Brant’s play is a small one. Even as the issues it approaches are vital, his theatrical interests are local rather than global, and rightly so. He’s more concerned with the psychological side-effects of remote warfare on this one woman than with a larger discussion of how it alters the military landscape or the world’s vision of the US. It’s up to us to do the extrapolating.

Or it should be. The breadth of the design and the intensity of the performance try to widen out the play in ways that don’t always flatter the script, flattening its ambiguities, underscoring and emphasising symbols and echoes that were already fairly obvious. And yet, the conclusion still chills. Drone aircraft, the play suggests, have removed the threat, for one side at least, of death from war. But at terrible, incalculable cost.

• At the Public theater, New York, until 24 May. Box office: 212-967 7555


"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/review/anne-hathaway-grounded-theater-review-791418



Theater Review
'Grounded'
Anne Hathaway

plays a fighter pilot sidelined after
childbirth to become a drone operator
in this timely single-character play,
directed off-Broadway by Julie Taymor


The Bottom Line
Star power and dazzling stagecraft trump substance


by David Rooney
4/26/2015 7:00 PM PDT


The stage directions in George Brant's intense theatrical monologue, Grounded, call for sound and lighting design to reinforce the mental landscape of the protagonist and feed a growing sense of unease throughout. Director Julie Taymor follows that cue with a densely complex visual and sonic field appropriate to this drama about the disorienting effects of long-distance combat on an American fighter pilot reassigned to drone operation. And Anne Hathaway plays against type with grit and conviction as the tough Iraq veteran steadily unraveling. So why doesn't this impressive production pack more of an emotional wallop?

That's possibly because the technical wizardry and star power expose the limitations of the play. This is a performance piece that focuses on the personal drama of one woman's psychological struggle in the dehumanizing world of joystick warfare, while reflecting only obliquely on its political and moral ramifications. As the surrounding debate grows louder in a week during which news emerged of the collateral deaths of an American and an Italian aid worker in a CIA-authorized drone strike in Pakistan, the play's scope seems suddenly narrower. The Ethan Hawke film Good Kill, which opens next month and focuses on a male pilot going through a similar adjustment process, digs deeper.

However, Grounded certainly doesn't stint on innovative stagecraft, starting with its arresting opening image. On a bare stage covered in rippled sand, against a black mirror that occupies the entire rear wall, Hathaway's unnamed F-16 pilot stands with her back to the audience, wearing a flight suit and helmet. Surrounded by darkness and illuminated by a tight beam of light, she stands beneath a shower of what looks at first like water but as the eye adjusts is revealed to be sand, which bounces right off her.

That flight suit is like a second skin, the pilot explains in direct address, as she shares the rush of being "in the blue." She rains down missiles on desert fortresses, and returns them to particles of sand, getting out of there even before the explosion happens. Adopting a folksy Wyoming accent and a cocky attitude, Hathaway swaggers through the pilot's account of drinks with the boys while on leave. A local named Eric, the rare civilian confident enough to make it past a bunch of drunken Air Force guys to hit on her, impresses with his maneuvers. Three days of wild sex follow, and for the first time, she's sad when leave is over.

"Like some '50s movie. I've got my little woman at home, know who I'm fighting for. All that true corn. True cheese."

The resulting pregnancy gets her moved to a desk job, and despite her skepticism, marriage and motherhood turn out to be OK. But three years later, the urge to be alone in the sky again kicks in. Eric understands. She reports to her commander and learns she will not be reunited with her beloved F-16. Instead, she's assigned to the "chair force," flying drones from behind a video monitor in an air-conditioned trailer in the Nevada desert. She feels it's a punishment for getting pregnant, but her commander assures her, "In one year, the drone will be king."

This setup is related in language both pithy and poetic, as Hathaway establishes an easygoing rapport with the audience, with an underlying tension. Illustrating Taymor's facility for making evocative visuals out of the simplest tricks, the pilot's helmet serves first as her pregnant belly and then as her child. Projection designer Peter Nigrini's video components also help keep the story vivid and the pace brisk, with Hathaway enveloped by a full-floor sonogram, or zipping along the Interstate in the move to Vegas, or wrapped in a kaleidoscope of neon once she gets there.

The assembly of a drone on the tarmac is accompanied by raptor-like blueprint visuals; the pilot reveals that this will be her only direct contact with her $11 million aircraft. She works seven-day stretches of 12-hour shifts, staring at a putty-gray world on the screen. At first she feels the old charge as she eliminates "military-age males," following instructions from a voice in her headset. But when she starts noticing body parts flying in the cloud from an explosion, she slowly begins to come undone. The jarring normality of returning home to her husband and child each night messes with her head, and soon her sleeping daughter starts to look like putty.

Christopher Akerlind's lighting is key in constantly reshaping the pilot's environment with laser-like precision, while Elliot Goldenthal's music and soundscapes summon a world both familiar and alienating. A scene in a shopping mall, for instance, uses video, light and sound elements to riveting effect, showing that few directors marry the theatrical with the cinematic quite like Taymor.

It's easy to see what drew Hathaway to Grounded, and her interest in turn no doubt prompted the Public Theater to stage a play given a well-received New York production only last year. It's choice material for an actor, requiring unerring focus as bravado warps into a god complex before giving way to uneasiness, paranoia and crushing fragility. Becoming invisible awakens the pilot to the human toll of war, and ultimately to the vulnerability of us all in a depersonalized world where "everything is witnessed." The risk of death in combat has been removed, but the threat to sanity remains.

Unlike her captivating work in the Public's Twelfth Night in 2009, Hathaway's movie-star wattage is an impediment to full immersion here. But her performance moves effectively through the play's intensifying stages, balancing control with raw feeling and white-knuckle fear. If the expected visceral gut punch doesn't quite arrive, that might be because Brant's ending seems melodramatic. And perhaps all the directorial pyrotechnics, while making this production unusually dynamic for a solo show, contribute to a certain detachment from the experience being portrayed.


Cast: Anne Hathaway
Director: Julie Taymor
Playwright: George Brant
Set designer: Riccardo Hernandez
Lighting designer: Christopher Akerlind
Sound designer: Will Pickens
Projection designer: Peter Nigrini
Electronic music design: Richard Martinez
Original music & soundscapes: Elliot Goldenthal
Presented by the Public Theater

"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
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Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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http://variety.com/2015/legit/reviews/grounded-review-anne-hathaway-1201480215/

Off Broadway Review:
‘Grounded’
Starring
Anne Hathaway

By Marilyn Stasio
APRIL 26, 2015 | 06:40PM PT





It’s no good pretending that Anne Hathaway is just your typical journeyman actor working on a challenging one-person play. The Academy Award winner is very much the glamorous young movie star in George Brant’s 2012 play, “Grounded,” incongruously cast as a working-class kid from Wyoming who defines herself and finds her joy as an American Air Force fighter pilot.  But with director Julie Taymor (“The Lion King,” “Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark”) fielding the technology to get inside the pilot’s head, Hathaway masterfully navigates her terrifying dive from high-flying heroics to the appalling reality of guiding drones to their soft human targets.

The Public Theater’s intimate Anspacher space proves the ideal staging area for Taymor’s arsenal of pyrotechnics. As designed by Riccardo Hernandez, the stage is covered in clean white sand against a background of velvety blackness. The back wall is no wall at all, but an immense mirror, tilted to reflect the startling image of the Pilot, dressed in a U.S. Air Force flight suit (that she never removes) and positioned with her back to the audience. She stands tall and still in a cone of white light as a stream of sand trickles down her helmet and onto the desert floor.

But while the Pilot’s boots are in the sand, her head is in the clouds. “You are the blue,” she exults. “You are alone in the vastness and you are the blue. Astronauts, they have eternity. But I have color. I have blue.”

Coming down from this literal high, she dispenses with the poetic delivery and swaggers off to a pilots’ bar where she drinks with “my boys” and tells stories about flying, presumably in the same faux-country accent that sounds like nothing ever spoken in Wyoming. It’s really hard to accept this tall, elegant creature as one of the boisterous gang tossing back brewskies at some redneck bar. There’s also considerable awkwardness in the way she picks up some brave guy named Eric who isn’t unmanned by her professional pride and personal arrogance, although his own unglamorous job is working in the family hardware store.

Hathaway starts perking up when the Pilot falls in love, marries Eric and finds herself pregnant. The conflict is agony and the actress lets us see it.   “I want the sky, I want the blue, but I can’t kill her,” she decides, even though the pregnancy means she has to take a desk job, which is every pilot’s nightmare.

In one of the strongest scenes in the play, the Pilot discovers that she has to make huge adjustments when she finally reports back for active duty. She’s been assigned to pilot the brand new, the absolutely latest plane the Air Force has to offer. But this remarkable plane is an unmanned drone, which she will pilot from a chair in a trailer in the middle of the desert.

The extraordinarily expressive lighting design (Christopher Akerlind), sound effects (Will Pickens) and projections (Peter Nigrini) go into overdrive when the Pilot’s new posting takes her and her family to Nevada and Eric gets a job as a blackjack dealer in a Las Vegas casino. Goodbye blue skies, hello neon nights.

The tricky part for both actor and director is the Pilot’s gradual enlightenment about what it actually means to fly a drone. With the barest of stage effects — a straightback chair and a yellow line snaking down the highway — Taymor suggests the mind-numbing experience of driving to a trailer in the middle of the desert every day to sit and stare at gray shapes on a gray screen for 12 hours.

The Pilot’s mental unraveling is also gradual, allowing Hathaway to fall apart gracefully. But once the Pilot’s vision expands, allowing her to make out the human forms in those gray shapes, she finds it harder and harder to think of herself as this godlike creature looking down in righteous judgement from her eye in the sky.

Once that heroic clarity of vision is lost, so is the Pilot. And it’s something of a shock to realize that Hathaway has successfully (and, yes, gracefully) navigated the harrowing transition that so many soldiers go through, from proud hero to haunted ghost.


"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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http://www.vulture.com/2015/04/theater-review-grounder.html

Theater Review:
Anne Hathaway
is On Point in
Grounded
By Jesse Green
April 26, 2015 10:00 p.m.





The question of how to make Americans listen to things they may not want to hear, especially from the stage, is smartly answered by the Public Theater’s production of George Brant’s Grounded. On its own merits, this cautionary tale about our increasing reliance on drone warfare might too easily be ignored, as there isn’t much exterior drama to it. Rather, an unnamed Air Force major simply delivers an 80-minute monologue recounting her downward trajectory (as she sees it) from fighter pilot to operator of UAVs (unmanned aerial vehicles) after an unplanned pregnancy grounds her. Transferred from forward operating positions in Iraqto Creech AFBin the Mojave — from one desert to another — she experiences a moral trade-off that eventually begins to undo her. Yes, she gets to be with her husband and daughter after her 12-hour shift staring at screens each day, but the act of killing becomes so remote as to almost deprive it of meaning. We are meant to understand that the blank check we offer the military in order to protect us is just a more abstract version of the same trade-off.

The combination of Oscar-winning movie star Anne Hathaway and buzz-magnet director Julie Taymor is sure to draw more attention to the timely subject than have any of the play’s three dozen productions around the world since 2013, including a well-reviewed, bare-bones stop in New York last year. Taymor’s direction (to get this out of the way) is disciplined and phenomenal, which is partly a compliment and partly just a description. The audience absorbs the story as a series of phenomena: amazing things happening before its eyes and ears. As designed by Riccardo Hernandez, the set consists of an expanse of rippling sand on the floor of the Anspacher Theater and a reflective black wall behind it; these become the screens on which projection designer Peter Nigrini and lighting designer Christopher Akerlind fill out the inner life of the pilot. This inner life, as painted with the swift, vertiginous — and familiar — strokes of a video game, further implicates ordinary Americans in the moral morass, even when depicting seemingly neutral events like ultrasounds and visits to the mall. It is at the mall, for instance, that the pilot, beginning to question the fairness of her mission, freaks out upon seeing a JCPenney security camera watching her and her daughter from its perch. The play seems to be asking: Are we not all deconditioned to the dehumanization of remote surveillance? Is war just another living-room pastime? (The drone pilots, we are told, spend their shifts in Barcaloungers.)

These questions surely deserve a forum. As Oskar Eustis, the Public’s artistic director, writes in a program note, “Grounded is interested in the psychological impact on the pilots who command drones, but what makes the play important and powerful is the way [Brand’s] Pilot stands in for all of us.” The first part is certainly true; Hathaway gives a credible and wrenching performance of a woman losing it. She’s also enough of an entertainer to vary the monologue, much of it written in somewhat purple prose-poetry, with casual moments and, where possible, dustings of sly humor. You can’t help feeling for her. But the second part of Eustis’s encomium is more problematic. Though the playwright clearly does mean to have the pilot stand in for all of us, the substitution is less than convincing, at least as theater. For one thing, the pilot apparently has emotional problems that predate her work with drones. No more so than any of her male colleagues, presumably, she shows evidence of a kind of induced narcissistic disorder that goes into overdrive when she’s grounded, no longer the “top shit,” and then demoted to the Chair Force, as drone duty is called. If her inherent bravado is meant to reflect the American psyche — our supposed cowboy mentality in world affairs — the comparison is unearned. And a hollow peroration tagged on to the end, directly addressing in second person and Biblical cadence the audience’s complicity, does not redeem as theater an idea that was never dramatized.

What I do find successful in Grounded, aside from the top-notch if eventually wearisome production, is its chilling portrait of future war as just another job scrubbed of its pernicious effects. (The pilot’s husband works as a dealer at the Luxor Hotel & Casino, “cheating people” in another desert’s pyramid.) Its larger implications, to which I’m not unsympathetic, need more thought. As it stands, Grounded seems to set up a false opposition; it asks us to be nostalgic for older forms of decimation. “It would be a different book, The Odyssey, if Odysseus came home every day,” the pilot says. I’m not sure it would be a darker one.

Grounded is at the Public Theater through May 24.


"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline morrobay

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Re: Anne Hathaway as Fighter Pilot in ‘Grounded’
« Reply #5 on: April 29, 2015, 01:03:33 pm »
Thanks so  much for taking the time to research and post.  I really like Anne and had no idea she was doing a play; sounds like she's doing a great job.
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Offline CellarDweller

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  • A city boy's mentality, with a cowboy's soul.
Oh, a chance to get Anne's autograph on my Brokeback book.

;D


Tell him when l come up to him and ask to play the record, l'm gonna say: ''Voulez-vous jouer ce disque?''
'Voulez-vous, will you kiss my dick?'
Will you play my record? One-track mind!