The Great Gatsby Chapter Three…

David Belasco 

BORN: July 25th 1853 (San Fransisco, America) —Died : May 14th 1931

David Belasco was born in San Francisco, Calif, on July 22, 1853. He was educated in a monastery, which may have prompted the quasi-clerical garb he wore in later life—a style that earned him the name “the Bishop of Broadway.” He fled the monastery and joined a circus. By the age of 12 he was an actor on the San Francisco stage and had begun writing plays. In the following few years he joined companies barnstorming through the mining camps. In Virginia City, Nev., he served as secretary to Dion Boucicault, who inspired Belasco to try playwriting again. From 1873 to 1881 he was associated with several San Francisco theaters. His first play to attract attention was a collaborative effort with James A. Herne, Hearts of Oak. At 29 Belasco left for New York City, having acted more than 170 roles and written or adapted more than 100 plays.

His first position in New York was as a stagemanager of the Madison Square Theater. In 1886 he became dissatisfied and joined the Frohmans as stage manager and house playwright. In 1890 he became an independent producer; his first real success was his own The Heart of Maryland, a melodrama inspired by the poem “Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight.” Belasco took unknowns and turned them into stars. The first of these, Leslie Carter, had suffered through a sensational divorce. Penniless, a social outcast, she came to Belasco, who trained her and then stared her in Maryland. It played for three seasons and was then taken to London.

During the 1890s the Theatrical Syndicate gained control of the theatrical world and people who refused to join found themselves with no theaters. In Washington, D.C., Belasco was forced to rent the barnlike Convention Hall, leaky roof and all, for his production of Andrea with Carter. During the fourth act there was a violent rainstorm, and the audience observed the play from under their umbrellas. In 1902 Belasco gained control of the Republic Theater in New York. In 1906 he began work on a new building on West 44th Street, which eventually became the Belasco Theater.

In addition to Carter, Belasco elevated David Warfield (a vaudeville entertainer), Lenore Ulric, Frances Starr, and Blanche Bates to stardom. Most of these stars had natural ability, but Belasco was also a master at handling publicity campaigns. Certainly Carter’s past was in part responsible for her success. Belasco also preferred to work with unknown playwrights. He collaborated with John Luther Long to write Andrea, Madam Butterfly, and Darling of the Gods; and with Henry C. DeMille on Lord Chumley and The Wife, among others. Madam Butterfly and Belasco’s own The Girl of the Golden West were later adapted as the librettos for the Puccini operas.

Belasco claimed to have been associated with the production of nearly 400 plays, most of them written or adapted by himself; but his writing, in a time when Ibsen, Strindberg, and Chekhov were introducing realism, remained filled with sensational melodrama or maudlin sentiment. His plays have almost no lasting value. His advances in realism were in technical aspects of theater; his settings were correct to minute detail, for and not recreate a specific setting he preferred to buy it and then move it on stage. He particularly excelled in spectacular effect and in amazing mechanical contrivances. In lighting, he pioneered the use of colour silks and gelatin slides, loving to create “real” sunsets. Also, in a day when productions were hurriedly put together, Belasco took time to perfect his work; even his most severe critics admit a “tidiness” not often found on the American stage. He excelled in creating a mood and tension in his crowd and mob scenes. Moreover, whatever was seen on stage was Belasco and the other artists were the instruments of his will. He died in New York on May 14, 1931.

The Great Gatsby Chapter Two…

  • Explore one way that Fitzgerald presents ‘illusion’ in this chapter, you need to use evidence to support your idea

Illusion is shown throughout different ways in chapter two and one of them is that Myrtle changes her dress before the party begins. This is because Myrtle is a lower class person who tries to look like an upper class person by wearing an “elaborate afternoon dress of coloured chiffon”. Myrtle also has a secret affair with Tom Buchanan, although she already has a hard-working husband: Wilson.The reason that  Myrtle is attracted to Tom  because of his status and wealth, which Wilson does not have.To Myrtle, status and money is more important because she is desperate to improve her life.This is an illusion because Myrtle and Tom both use each other to get away from their real lives and stay with each other for bit to see what their lives could potentially be like, although they both know that it is never going to become reality for them because their relationship is built on materialism. Another illusion that is shown in chapter 2 is “The eyes of Doctor T. J. Ellenburg are blue and gigantic — their irises are one yard high.” Tom, Gatsby, Daisy and all the other rich people are tricked into thinking that the sign is watching how much money they make because the eyes symbolise the growing commercialism of America. Life in America in 1920’s was all about making money,  as shown by the wealth of people like Tom.This is an illusion because they compare this billboard to god. Where as the truth is ‘gods’ empty eyes are used to represent him watching over people who have abandoned their spiritual values to achieve material wealth and status.

The Great Gatsby Chapter One…

  • What was the advice given to Nick by his father? How, do you suppose, this makes him a good person to tell this story?

The advice that Nick’s father gave him is …”Whenever you feel like criticising anyone… just remember that all the people in this world have not had the same advantages that you’ve had.”This makes him a good person to tell the story because he is less judgmental than everybody else.

  • How is West Egg different from East Egg? Which do you think you would rather live in and why?

West Egg is ‘new’ money and East Egg is ‘old’ money; meaning that the people who live in East Egg inherited their money and people who live in West Egg earned their money.I would rather live in the East Egg because that way I would have already inherited my money and being a female in that century it would be better to live in the ‘old’ area.

  • If you were going to pick one colour to connect with Daisy Buchanan, what colour would it be? Explain your reasoning.

I would pick white because she is ,bland, fake, she is lacking in true friends, happiness and the real meaning of life. All of Daisy’s relationships  are based on the idea of wealth and class  but not personality or who the other person truly is. I would also pick white because white isn’t actually a colour it is a tone and Daisy isn’t real, she is fake.

  • We find out that Tom has “some woman in New York.” What unflattering feature of Jordan Baker’s personality is revealed in this scene?

She is noisy, needs to know what is going on and likes to get in on the gossip. 

  • The green light that Gatsby is staring at will become an important symbol in the book. What symbolic associations do you connect to the colour green?

The colour green represents hope.It represents Gatsby’s thoughts because he still has hope to find Daisy and fall in love with her and be happy together. Green can also represent growth, harmony and balance. When Gatsby looks at the green light it symbolises growth for him, and how much he has changed and improved  since he was young.

Winter/Summer at Lake Wanaka

WINTER:

A bitter breeze makes its way down the lake until it reaches the shoreline. Looking towards Ruby Island I feel an algid whip hit my face, sending shivers through my spine. An astonishment of nippy air gives me goose bumps causing my arm hairs to stick up like soldiers, ready to scuffle away the bitterness. I saunter towards the end of the wharf, clinching my fists tightly in my pockets to keep the coolness of the air from crawling up my arms. With every step I take, I can feel my feet sliding beneath me from the metal wiring that covers the hard wooden surface. Being very cautious trying not slip into the ferocious wavy water I take a peek at what is beneath. The waves no longer look inviting like were six months ago. Instead, they look sharp and snappy enough to freeze a soul. Scanning the rugged surface of the lake, something catches my eye.

Alone, in the distance I notice a colourless, lifeless piece of foam that rocks over the waves, tussling to stay afloat. It wants attention. Battling to get noticed by the teenagers that once spent their summer days plunging into the water. Instead, they briskly walk by and get a rapid glimpse of what summer looked like. A reminder of the hot blazing days that are gone. Birds overtake the pontoon and make nests to get cosy for the remaining dark winter days that are to come. It is the treasure chest that locks away the summer memories until it comes around again. 

I look around and all that is visible are towering snow-capped mountains reaching for crystals twirling to the flax covered ground. Leaving a thick blanket, snowflakes flutter to the bottom covering the medallion dead grass that is hiding beneath. In the distance, clusters of gloomy clouds overhang mountains. Caliginous, muted colours fill the air from the haze of the sky reflecting on the surface of the water.

A storm is approaching.

SUMMER:

A swarm of blazing air swoops through the islands making its way to the lakefront. Looking towards the array of boats an icy splash of water strikes my face, sending a coolness through my body. A refreshing breeze pirouettes around me. For a moment, I forget about the sun’s blazing rays that are tardily roasting my skin. I scamper to the end of the wharf, each of the scorching wires burning my feet with every stride I take. 

Calming waves roll up on the shore and wrap around people’s feet inviting them to dash and dive in. Sticky, searing, sweat splashes off of me as I do not hesitate to leap into the thawed puddle of snow that is surrounded by mountains. As I am scrutinising the tranquil water I can’t help but notice the arms and legs scrambling through the body of aqua, that only has their mind-set on one thing: the pontoon. Groups of teenagers pile on and spend their whole day springing into the water until the sun tucks in behind the horizon. Already overflowing with dozens of people, the birds no longer nest at the pontoon.Instead, they dance in the draping Willows. Its dull, chiffon coloured surface burns my eyes from the reflection of the sun’s rays that are slowly fading away into the distance.

Bare, colossal mountains loom in the distance as they soar up through the candyfloss clouds. Sultry weather devours the rug of sleet, leaving the thawed snow trickling down the steep edgy cliffs. No longer covered, the dry, fawn flax is all that is visible as it lies over the rugged mountain face.

A mirror of scintillating blue and canary, paint a picture on the flat, glass lake.

The hot blistering days have arrived.

 

 

 

 



 

 

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Chris Waugh