It's a bit daunting to walk out of a play halfway. Particularly when it's had rave reviews. It is also very liberating when you have been sitting there, fidgeting, wondering how anyone can enjoy this rubbish, let alone laugh, as the people around me were were doing.
But then, I have been walking out of theatres from time to time since the age of nine, when my twelve year old brother gave me a poke in the ribs and said in an all too audible stage whisper "Let's leave this crap" or words to that effect and we rose from the third row of the stalls in the middle of a sickly performance of Hansel and Gretel. (The adult accompanying us could not make it at the last minute and my brother was put in charge.)
This time, the play was Privates on Parade with the illustrious Simon Russell Beale. No better actor treads our boards but this camp, cross-dressing, innuendo laden tale of wartime army entertainment, just did not cut it for me.
I sat out the second half in the bar, reading the program and chatting to the staff who, I discovered have this mad burst of activity in the intervals and at the end and, inbetween, count the takings, restock the bar, play computer games, read their books or talk to the understudies.
My better half stayed to watch the second act and said that it improved, a sentiment shared by the American lady on my left who had told me that she could not make head or tail of it because she could not really understand the English.
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1 comment:
Well done for walking out. I too amd a walker-outer, mainly from musical (or more likely UNmusical) performances. I feel that my memory bank is full enough without having it further cluttered with performances that are better forgotten.
So pleased to hear that the American lady has the problem with our language that I have with hers!
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