Rory Revisited
Rory Leahy needs a much better introduction than what I gave him in my last post. So -- Rory Intro, Mach 2.
I met him four years ago, when he was a member of the Penny Dreadful Players. To be more exact, I became acquainted with Rory's work, and then a few months later I met the man himself. His work was a terrific introduction. Art not only speaks for itself. If it's good, it says great things about the artist too.
Rory was incredibly prolific. He never let up. He was a theater-dwelling giant who made the stage toss with his words like the Mongol invasion fleet in the monster waves of the typhoon of 1281.
At that time --three/four years ago, not 1281 -- the Penny Dreadful Players were a close-knit group who were constantly writing, and producing, and starring in each other's work. So I saw Rory doing something cool on a pretty regular basis. I saw him in many places and many guises. From a small turn as Blackbeard on the arm of a woman trying to make her ex-boyfriend jealous; to singing Marc Heiden's words about we'll never be receptive to truth because, well, we can't stop staring at teen celebrity hinders; to exploring the origin of evil as a viable personal philosophy in Turok the Inadequate; to exploring what would happen if Byron and Shelley, those Romantics with outsized appetites for life, rose from the grave with, well -- outsized appetites for life; to writing, producing, directing, and starring in full-length barrages of ideas and human conflict, set in the post-Apocalyptic future and in Evanston, Illinois.
Rory's work is verbal and clever. But the clever words aren't in the service of cleverness itself. His plays are densely populated, and almost every character has a lot to say. His dialogue, I think, is born out of a sense that almost everyone has something to say that's worth listening to. Except the mad scientists, of course.
Now, after ages of being trapped in the belly of the U of I, then cutting his way out and charting a raft for Chicago, he's got a crew together. Once again, his voice booms across the waves, strong and sure. Next month he's producing his play Lysistrata 3000. And he's joined us as the newest member of the What Jail Is Like collective. I couldn't be happier.
For all his work, this is one of Rory's first appearances in the online world. Technically, I've got his website only as far as the larval stage. But his weblog is up and wriggling healthily. And he's got the first two scenes of Lysistrata 3000 online. Take a look when you get a chance.
When I used to go see Rory's plays in Champaign/Urbana, I'd know how good they were by how depressed I was after seeing them. How, I would think, can someone ten years younger than me have such poise and grace, and be so far ahead? And, folks, he's still going. Next month, I look forward to being depressed. Just like old times.