Daily Archives: April 24, 2013

Dancing Armitage: ‘All Arms & Legs,’ Yet Poetry in Motion

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Crystal Chandlyre put together this special video highlighting Richard dancing in rehearsals for “Cats” back in 1994-95.  You get to see the same dance sequence from two different vantage points and both in and out of costume with Crystal giving some cues as to when and where to look for RA.

Of course, as she says, once you’ve spotted him, you somehow don’t miss him again (even with the less-than-perfect quality of old video footage).

I love watching him dance. That tall, lean, muscular frame, the former gangly teen transformed into a graceful swan–a big man who never somehow takes up too much space. I know he grew dissatisfied with his career as a dancer and choreographer in musical theatre for various reasons, but as I have said before, it wasn’t from any lack of talent, surely.

And musical theatre’s loss was definitely our gain as admirers of a versatile, expressive, nuanced actor.

His dance training and experience shine through in so many of his acting performances, from Lucas’s cat-like stealth to Porter’s balletic grace with a weapon to Thorin’s amazing spins in combat–Armitage the dancer still captures our attention and commands our admiration and respect.

What a bundle of talent that man is. Bravo!!  And thank you, Crystal, for putting this together.

It’s gonna be alright, Jack. Really, it is.

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Happiness is a warm, boisterous puppy. But what is it when you take the puppy’s mama away in a big carrier before dawn breaks and leave him behind?

Difficult.

Seabee, due to travel to Montgomery to be spayed today.  went into the borrowed Pet Porter without a hitch–such a sweet, trusting dog that one is!

But, oh–little Jack. His wiggly puppy body grew very still as he looked up at the carrier in the back of the Jeep, and then at me. Was it just my imagination in overdrive, or was there something accusatory in those beautiful, soft brown puppy eyes?

He didn’t whimper or bark or make any noise. He didn’t try to chew on my pajama legs.  Quietly, tail drooping in a most uncharacteristic way, Seabee’s son padded back onto the deck with his uncle Rascal, who soon made himself scarce. Rascal wasn’t taking any chances, it seems.

I brought out food. Jack ate as I sat there and talked to him and tried to explain it all once again. I know. He’s a dog, and just a puppy at that. Still, I feel compelled to try.

To ease my own heart as much as his.

It’s gonna be OK, Jack. Really it is. Just a few hours and you’ll see your mom again.

“Sigh*

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