"Beautiful: The Carole King Musical" in the West End: It's Just Prettyby Randi / April 14, 2015
Yes that is signed by Imelda!
After a 40-year absence from the West End, one of the most important American musicals is finally back. And it’s the best musical currently playing in this town that favors its straight plays. Imelda Staunton takes on the iconic (beyond iconic) role of Mamma Rose, and it’s not like anyone ever doubted her abilities or anything, but she kills it. And I’m not just saying that because she would make me write the rest of this blog with my own blood if I said anything bad about her like she did to Harry.
Having been spoiled by the greatest diva Patti LuPone as Mamma Rose in only the past decade, I had very high expectations for Imelda. Hell, Patti LuPone’s mere existence has given me high expectations for every facet of life, from dinner parties to toothbrushing. No one can try to rival Patti’s goddamn beautiful brassy voice on the big singing numbers; she LuPWNs everyone. But Imelda didn’t have to give us a big diva voice to effectively show us her crazy. While I did find myself yearning to listen to Patti’s cast recording later, Imelda’s acting, especially in her ballsiest moments, was off the charts impressive. Very often, I was transported to their world in the 1920s and ‘30s, forgetting that I was watching an actress I’ve adored for so long and sometimes forgetting to blink.
In case you don’t know, “Gypsy” tells the story of Rose, the original awful pushy stage mother whose name has become synonymous with awful pushy stage mothers, who will do anything to make her daughter a star. At first, she focuses her life and all of her being on June, the talented daughter, while pushing Louise, the not-so, to the side. (Or to the chorus as one of the boys in June’s act.) The family along with random boys (named after the towns they were picked up in, I love that) travel the country for years and years to perform at vaudeville halls for whatever they can get. June finally has enough when she’s at some grown-up age (they never really are sure of how old they are), and she and the boy that Louise had a crush on, Tulsa, elope. Poor Louise. Rose switches her focus to her remaining daughter, vowing to talent her up and make her a star. However, vaudeville is dying, and when their shitty act gets accidentally booked at a burlesque hall, everything changes. Louise almost accidentally finds her kind-of-creepy calling in a world where she doesn’t need or want her mother around anymore, and Rose realizes that her entire life was spent pushing her girls to stardom when obviously she just wanted fame for herself and never got it. So sad but so crazy.
Lots of important people say that “Gypsy” is the greatest American musical. I think it’s one of the most important, and definitely Rose is one of if not the most important female characters in the canon, but the show is not the best. It’s great, but there’s so much clutter – I had forgotten how much of the show is the stupid kids’ act. Oh my goodness! Baby June & Her Newsboys! Extra Extra! Look at the headline! Dainty June & Her Farmboys! Oh my god it gets ANNOYING. 70% of the first act is the kids performing. And 60% of Act II is the grow-up kids act with Louise as the star. We hear the act’s one song about 90 times, and then of course we hear “Let Me Entertain You” 99 times. I could sense my husband starting to hulk out when it literally became a stress test gone insane. Luckily, the parts that aren’t the kids performances are superb. It’s so funny, that the dramatic arc of the family dynamic is classic and brilliant, while the majority of the show, the pacing, the structure, is all these dumb kids. Once you make it through that, though, you are rewarded with some of the most compelling musical numbers ever. “Some People”, “Everything’s Coming Up Roses”, and “Rose’s Turn” are of course the big three, the core of Rose’s performance that all need to be absolutely nailed, and Imelda nailed them. I never knew she could sing at all, and I was blown away by how it wasn’t even singing, it was just a continuation of her character.
So many of the other smaller songs are equally memorable and beautiful. We have “Small World”, “Together Wherever We Go”, “If Mama Was Married”, the latter of which gives us our one and only glimpse into the sister relationship and it always makes me want to see more of that. you wonder how much Rose created a divide between the girls and whether they could have bonded over complaining about her if given the chance to be friends. Although I suppose when June secretly marries the boy Louise had a crush on, the relationship is beyond strained.
Speaking of Tulsa, man that is such a good role for an up and coming young man. You show off your dancing and a little singing for like, 10 minutes, and then you are gone for the rest of the show. I love how subtle Louise’s falling for him is. It increases the emotional heft of her performance to feel that you’ve sensed a secret longing of someone onstage without overtly being told as such, like you form a connection with Louise and thus feel for her even more. The 2008 Broadway revival (Patti’s) spoiled me with Laura Benanti, who showed Louise’s emotional journey so subtly and exquisitely that she set the bar insanely high for future Gypsies. Also, her moos, as one of Dainty June’s farm animals, cannot be beat. (“Mu MOO mu moo.” She deserved a Tony just for that. It cracks me up.) Lara Pulver, the West End’s Gypsy, does a fine job in showing us Louise’s journey, and her voice is beautiful. My favorite moment of hers was her “Little Lamb”, a song I always forget about, but it’s really lovely and moving while being so so simple. But there’s nothing to Pulver’s performance that we aren’t explicitly shown, no deeper emotional levels or subtlety. I felt at times (as I so often do here) that her focus on keeping her American accent in check hindered her ability to fully be in character and show us more to Louise. Like, Gypsy Rose Lee isn’t some woodland sprite who lives a life of joy surrounded by singing butterflies, but that’s what she would have us believe at the end of this, that she was finally sincerely happy. There was no necessary edge to this proclamation of happiness, no bite undercutting it. And we need that.
The role of Herbie, Rose’s longtime, long-suffering partner, is equally important, and Peter Davison was very good, although he sounded eerily close to Gene Hackman’s chain-smoking tobacco magnate in “Heartbreakers”. However, he seemed almost too strong to be hurt by Rose, and when he finally finally leaves her for good, you are not upset because you are just happy for him! Yay Herbie! Run don’t walk and so on! I think that scene is supposed to be a bit more crushing though. When Herbie seems weaker, it is, because it’s easier to see that he really does love Rose for some reason. But this Herbie was a little too normal, and there’s no normal in “Gypsy”.
After such a remarkable night, the ending left me kind of confused and cold. In the 2008 revival and in the versions I’m more familiar with, the ‘reconciliation’ between Rose and Louise is tentative, to say the least. I always thought the point was that Louise despised Rose or at least blamed her for everything terrible that has befallen the family, and for her private anguish. I remember Laura Benanti’s Louise laughing at Rose’s dream and the tension between the two still being fo’ serious. Rose is left kind of pathetically dragging behind. Here, instead, they seemed to fully make up, with Pulver’s Louise being like ‘Dude I’m SO happy there is NOTHING I’m hiding in my talk about happiness, just pure joy!’ and the last shot should have been Rose tripping-running to catch up to her star of a daughter (that was such a shockingly good image, like Rose was scurrying still to chase stardom), but instead the last shot is Louise putting her arm around her mother when she does catch up! What is that! There’s no happy mother-daughter ending in “Gypsy”! I was quite taken aback by this type of forgiveness-filled ending to what should be a wretched, regret-filled end for Rose. It’s much more dramatic and moving if there’s no forgiveness (like in life!). It an unfortunate final minute or so to two hours of splendid theatre, so it’s okay. Imelda’s performance is so unbelievable, it’s a must-see. It’s kind of hilarious that the Olivier Awards occurred only a few nights before this show opened, because the fact that there is anyone else, male of female, lead or supporting, performing on the West End and supposedly giving an award-worthy performance while Imelda is living and breathing this role is kind of ridiculous.
OH. There’s a live puppy. So it’s worth seeing for that. PUPPIEEEEEE!
AUDIENCE: Oh dammit. I mean. PEOPLE. You’d think the audience at “Gypsy” would be well-behaved. For the most part, they were okay…but they talked during the overtures. And I don’t mean people behind me were whispering and I could shush them easily (I mean, they were and I did, but that’s not the point.) EVERYONE in the whole theatre was talking at regular volume during the overture. And especially when it is so rare to be treated to the full overture nowadays (or even to have one in shows at all), that is a crying shame. (And it literally almost made me cry, it’s so frustrating.) People apparently thought it was just like ‘sit-down’ music and that the show didn’t start yet. Ughhhhahhhh the overture sets the tone of the show! It has begun, you ingrates! It happened at the start of Act II as well, with the shorter interlude still being too long for our audience to stay quiet. What is wrong with people? It actually got to the point where I was thisclose to standing up and yelling “SHUT YOUR DAMN FACEHOLES!” But I haven’t quite figured out when that is the less disturbing/more helpful action to take in a crap situation like that. One day, I hope to have the courage to actually do it. Actually, if we’re hoping for stuff, I hope for people to stop acting like idiots in the theatre, how about that.
In case you don’t know, “Gypsy” tells the story of Rose, the original awful pushy stage mother whose name has become synonymous with awful pushy stage mothers, who will do anything to make her daughter a star. At first, she focuses her life and all of her being on June, the talented daughter, while pushing Louise, the not-so, to the side. (Or to the chorus as one of the boys in June’s act.) The family along with random boys (named after the towns they were picked up in, I love that) travel the country for years and years to perform at vaudeville halls for whatever they can get. June finally has enough when she’s at some grown-up age (they never really are sure of how old they are), and she and the boy that Louise had a crush on, Tulsa, elope. Poor Louise. Rose switches her focus to her remaining daughter, vowing to talent her up and make her a star. However, vaudeville is dying, and when their shitty act gets accidentally booked at a burlesque hall, everything changes. Louise almost accidentally finds her kind-of-creepy calling in a world where she doesn’t need or want her mother around anymore, and Rose realizes that her entire life was spent pushing her girls to stardom when obviously she just wanted fame for herself and never got it. So sad but so crazy.
Lots of important people say that “Gypsy” is the greatest American musical. I think it’s one of the most important, and definitely Rose is one of if not the most important female characters in the canon, but the show is not the best. It’s great, but there’s so much clutter – I had forgotten how much of the show is the stupid kids’ act. Oh my goodness! Baby June & Her Newsboys! Extra Extra! Look at the headline! Dainty June & Her Farmboys! Oh my god it gets ANNOYING. 70% of the first act is the kids performing. And 60% of Act II is the grow-up kids act with Louise as the star. We hear the act’s one song about 90 times, and then of course we hear “Let Me Entertain You” 99 times. I could sense my husband starting to hulk out when it literally became a stress test gone insane. Luckily, the parts that aren’t the kids performances are superb. It’s so funny, that the dramatic arc of the family dynamic is classic and brilliant, while the majority of the show, the pacing, the structure, is all these dumb kids. Once you make it through that, though, you are rewarded with some of the most compelling musical numbers ever. “Some People”, “Everything’s Coming Up Roses”, and “Rose’s Turn” are of course the big three, the core of Rose’s performance that all need to be absolutely nailed, and Imelda nailed them. I never knew she could sing at all, and I was blown away by how it wasn’t even singing, it was just a continuation of her character.
So many of the other smaller songs are equally memorable and beautiful. We have “Small World”, “Together Wherever We Go”, “If Mama Was Married”, the latter of which gives us our one and only glimpse into the sister relationship and it always makes me want to see more of that. you wonder how much Rose created a divide between the girls and whether they could have bonded over complaining about her if given the chance to be friends. Although I suppose when June secretly marries the boy Louise had a crush on, the relationship is beyond strained.
Speaking of Tulsa, man that is such a good role for an up and coming young man. You show off your dancing and a little singing for like, 10 minutes, and then you are gone for the rest of the show. I love how subtle Louise’s falling for him is. It increases the emotional heft of her performance to feel that you’ve sensed a secret longing of someone onstage without overtly being told as such, like you form a connection with Louise and thus feel for her even more. The 2008 Broadway revival (Patti’s) spoiled me with Laura Benanti, who showed Louise’s emotional journey so subtly and exquisitely that she set the bar insanely high for future Gypsies. Also, her moos, as one of Dainty June’s farm animals, cannot be beat. (“Mu MOO mu moo.” She deserved a Tony just for that. It cracks me up.) Lara Pulver, the West End’s Gypsy, does a fine job in showing us Louise’s journey, and her voice is beautiful. My favorite moment of hers was her “Little Lamb”, a song I always forget about, but it’s really lovely and moving while being so so simple. But there’s nothing to Pulver’s performance that we aren’t explicitly shown, no deeper emotional levels or subtlety. I felt at times (as I so often do here) that her focus on keeping her American accent in check hindered her ability to fully be in character and show us more to Louise. Like, Gypsy Rose Lee isn’t some woodland sprite who lives a life of joy surrounded by singing butterflies, but that’s what she would have us believe at the end of this, that she was finally sincerely happy. There was no necessary edge to this proclamation of happiness, no bite undercutting it. And we need that.
The role of Herbie, Rose’s longtime, long-suffering partner, is equally important, and Peter Davison was very good, although he sounded eerily close to Gene Hackman’s chain-smoking tobacco magnate in “Heartbreakers”. However, he seemed almost too strong to be hurt by Rose, and when he finally finally leaves her for good, you are not upset because you are just happy for him! Yay Herbie! Run don’t walk and so on! I think that scene is supposed to be a bit more crushing though. When Herbie seems weaker, it is, because it’s easier to see that he really does love Rose for some reason. But this Herbie was a little too normal, and there’s no normal in “Gypsy”.
After such a remarkable night, the ending left me kind of confused and cold. In the 2008 revival and in the versions I’m more familiar with, the ‘reconciliation’ between Rose and Louise is tentative, to say the least. I always thought the point was that Louise despised Rose or at least blamed her for everything terrible that has befallen the family, and for her private anguish. I remember Laura Benanti’s Louise laughing at Rose’s dream and the tension between the two still being fo’ serious. Rose is left kind of pathetically dragging behind. Here, instead, they seemed to fully make up, with Pulver’s Louise being like ‘Dude I’m SO happy there is NOTHING I’m hiding in my talk about happiness, just pure joy!’ and the last shot should have been Rose tripping-running to catch up to her star of a daughter (that was such a shockingly good image, like Rose was scurrying still to chase stardom), but instead the last shot is Louise putting her arm around her mother when she does catch up! What is that! There’s no happy mother-daughter ending in “Gypsy”! I was quite taken aback by this type of forgiveness-filled ending to what should be a wretched, regret-filled end for Rose. It’s much more dramatic and moving if there’s no forgiveness (like in life!). It an unfortunate final minute or so to two hours of splendid theatre, so it’s okay. Imelda’s performance is so unbelievable, it’s a must-see. It’s kind of hilarious that the Olivier Awards occurred only a few nights before this show opened, because the fact that there is anyone else, male of female, lead or supporting, performing on the West End and supposedly giving an award-worthy performance while Imelda is living and breathing this role is kind of ridiculous.
OH. There’s a live puppy. So it’s worth seeing for that. PUPPIEEEEEE!
AUDIENCE: Oh dammit. I mean. PEOPLE. You’d think the audience at “Gypsy” would be well-behaved. For the most part, they were okay…but they talked during the overtures. And I don’t mean people behind me were whispering and I could shush them easily (I mean, they were and I did, but that’s not the point.) EVERYONE in the whole theatre was talking at regular volume during the overture. And especially when it is so rare to be treated to the full overture nowadays (or even to have one in shows at all), that is a crying shame. (And it literally almost made me cry, it’s so frustrating.) People apparently thought it was just like ‘sit-down’ music and that the show didn’t start yet. Ughhhhahhhh the overture sets the tone of the show! It has begun, you ingrates! It happened at the start of Act II as well, with the shorter interlude still being too long for our audience to stay quiet. What is wrong with people? It actually got to the point where I was thisclose to standing up and yelling “SHUT YOUR DAMN FACEHOLES!” But I haven’t quite figured out when that is the less disturbing/more helpful action to take in a crap situation like that. One day, I hope to have the courage to actually do it. Actually, if we’re hoping for stuff, I hope for people to stop acting like idiots in the theatre, how about that.
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Translations at the National Theatre: Harrowing Tale of Ireland & England
Man alive, if you didn’t hate England after last week’s election, you definitely will after seeing Translations, the classic play by Brian Friel that is basically the stage version of the quote “You be careful out among them English.” (The actual quote is ‘the English’ but most people remember it as ‘them English’ because it’s so much better.) Translations tells of the folk who run and attend a hedge school in the Irish community of Baile Beag in 1833. They seem to be having a grand old time learning and living their lives, until the English military comes in supposedly to map their area and record the right translations of the farm-county names. But you can’t trust the English, as they come to know, and as the ‘translations’ become ‘renaming’ their locales, and as ‘renaming’ becomes, well, executing English military control. With well realized characters and a captivating style and story, Translations is a fantastic show and this revival could not be better.
So, your first question first: a hedge school (according to our friend wikipedia because I never heard the term before) was a small informal (and I guess illegal?) school that secretly educated kids from ‘non-conforming faiths’ (catholic and presby/anything but Anglican). They generally provided rudimentary primary school education for children – historians estimate for up to 400,000 students by the 1820s. Sometimes, they provided a higher level of education, and our hedge school run by Manus (Seamus O’Hara) and Hugh (Ciaran Hinds, heyyyy) seemed a mix of both: their students shout out the Greek or Latin etymologies of words used in regular conversation, they quote the Aeneid and the Odyssey, they talk of Greek mythology like they are friends with the gods (and at least our loony old man student Jimmy Jack (Dermot Crowley) believed he was), but then they also work on their times tables. So a general school of all things, and eventually, because of the damn English, a school of hard knocks?
When the English arrive with their mapmaking plan, their translator for the local language is Owen (Fra Fee, one of the best names), Hugh’s son and Manus’s brother, back after years establishing himself in the big cities. Owen doesn’t seem to mind erasing interesting old Irish names, with histories that locals like to share with each other so someone remembers, for English-friendly boring shit like White Plains and River Cross or whatever bullshit they came up with to replace like Billarendy Kragger. While he seems to be missing any respect for where he came from in his desire to change/better himself and his country, his partner in mapcrime, Lieutenant Yolland (Jack Bardoe), has a well-meaning but overly romanticized notion of ‘loving’ Ireland and the language, and the two surprising positions make for interesting subtle conflict. I also loved the subtle showing of the students feeling inferior and uneducated in front of the Englishmen since they couldn’t speak English, despite their ability to talk about the Greek gods and Latin poets and word origins like its nothing and despite the Englishmen’s inability to even recognize a Latin phrase. How did this assumption that English people are smarter begin? That’s some white nonsense.
Making for not so subtle conflict is the romance between the Lootellan and Maire, my hair twin, who always seemed destined to marry Manus but things a-change when the English come a-courting. Unforch for all, the Lootellan goes missing, and his military buddies, like all military buddies, are not happy and so they threaten increasing amounts of action/crime/murder until he is found, the gd fascists. The rapid development of drama and terror in act two is alarming, especially since it so worryingly relates to those in power today. The final image is so harrowing, earning a rare ‘faaaaak’ from me in the blackout before curtain call.
But aside from the distress of connecting the action to our crumbling society, Translations is terrific theatre. All the acting was strong, and some of my favorites I didn’t even mention yet (like the mute-but-working-on-it Sarah, played by Liadan Dunlea). With perfect timing, there was so much unexpected humor, and laugh-out-loud moments with the back-and-forth translations. The world they created was full, absorbing, and epic-feeling right off the bat, and it felt important, especially in trying to understand English history. I feel like this is the show for Irish people who felt overlooked by The Ferryman.
INFORMATION
Unfortunately, this ends its run tomorrow, December 18. but there are tickets available for tonight and tomorrow night so hop to it.
This is playing in the Olivier theatre inside the National Theatre (there are a few theatres in there).
DO NOT bring bags bigger than like a sheet of paper? About? Or they give you shit and might make you check it. Luckily I remembered and brought a little bag.
Act one is one hour and 20 minutes. Act two is under an hour and the 7:30pm curtain ended at 10:05pm.
There are toilets on the mezzanine level between the stalls doors level and the circle doors level, and these are always crowded because the people going up to the circle don’t realize that there are more toilets once you enter the circle doors and it’s awesomeeee. If you know. which I do. I also think the circle is better for this theatre because it’s a GD BARN (enormous) and you get a better view. Also if you sit in the front row of the circle your view begins at the tip of the stage, which is incredible for my blood pressure because it means you can’t see anyone in the stalls using their phones, the English bastards.
Also at one end of the circle bar now there’s a water machine for filling your bottles or cups! Whee! The line for that at the interval was longer than the bar line which like good for the world but bad for me.
Indecent at the Menier: A Glorious and Wrenching Jewish Triumph
It’s a special Theatre Tuesday! because last week’s Theatre Thursday was actually Yom Kippur so we were offline because as this show teaches you Judaism is important and deserves respect!
I’ve been complaining about how Jewishness is treated on London stages for as long as I can remember, and I know some of you are sick of it. Thankfully for you clowns, this week’s show, the new UK production of Paula Vogel’s Indecent at the Menier Chocolate Factory, tells its heart-breaking, full-bodied Jewish tale with respect for its subject matter and the people represented. Not that one show solves an endemic problem, but I cried through the whole thing and not just at the sad parts. At the fact that a Jewish story was being treated lovingly, and with actual Jewish people involved, onstage and offstage, (Joey Tribbiani voice:) IN LONDON! This beautiful production of the Tony-winning Broadway hit is nearly two hours long with no intermission — which as you know means I had to pee horribly for half the show (and true to form I got a UTI in post) — and I still loved it. That’s as much love I can send a show, truly.
Indecent treats a narrowly defined and unassuming subject — the lifespan of a Yiddish play from inception through celebration and on to suppression — on an epic scale. Sholem Asch’s God of Vengeance is the (real) work, and we see a troupe of actors (well, various troupes, in various plays-within-plays, don’t think about it too hard too too hard) tell the story of Asch’s writing of the play, the first reading of it, the first production, and onto worldwide fame…and then censorship of it on Broadway, of all places. Asch’s play tells of a young Jewish girl whose father runs a brothel, and the girl falls in love with one of the prostitutes, and the girls’ father gets like, so mad. Likewise, people in the real world were equally displeased, Jews and goys alike. Two women in love! Jewish people treated as complicated living breathing beings and not paragons of perfection! The horror!
God of Vengeance was ahead of its time, but luckily a few people believed in it, recognizing its art and beauty and how tenderly it treated the central love story, and they helped make it happen. (Believing in art is necessary!) People like my man Lemmel (Finbar Lynch), a man who was at the very first reading of the play in someone’s living room, and was with it all the way through its Euro tour, to NYC, and back to Europe just in time to perform it in a ghetto attic in hushed tones. Yeah, this play gets to the Holocaust, and you might be like ‘ugh we get it the Holocaust’ but the Holocaust was a really big deal (“remember that we suffered!”)! Going in, I was most excited to see American queen Alexandra Silber and Molly Osbourne (double Tzeitels!) playing various actresses playing the lovers, and they were as great as I expected, but Lemmel was the one who really grabbed our hearts and broke them. His love for God of Vengeance and for the love story in that play is the real heart of this play. Like I thought the love story in GOV might be the central emotional core of Indecent but it’s really Lemmel’s love for the GOV love story that was the real one all along. The real good place was the friends we made along the way. Finbar was so good, and not just because you know how I feel about small old Jewish men (I don’t think he is Jewish but he is now on the official list of goyim who are allowed to play Jews) who make me sad, like Eli Wallach in The Holiday, oh man. So good. Right at those heartstrings.
Several times during the show, I thought hmm maybe this bit isn’t totally necessary, maybe like 10-15 minutes could be cut, like the Berlin cabaret scene that makes you feel like when you watch R-rated movies with your parents. But this is hundo p one of those shows that upon reflection you realize were masterfully set. Rebecca Taichman’s compassionate and thoughtful direction treats the piece so kindly and with such care that that’s its own piece of art. (And I’m not just saying that because I especially enjoyed all the Yiddish projected on the backdrop, proving you can learn from using Duolingo (I was so proud of how much I could read and understand.)) All the moving parts, all the various characters the actors portray prove to be necessary to show GOV’s trajectory as a parallel to the history of Jews during this time period. They’re all the puzzle pieces necessary to put the story of this underlying play together, and you know like not all puzzle pieces are the dogs’ faces but you still need the ones that make the grass and trees and stuff to make it all complete. Yes I have done one puzzle in the past 20 years and it was of a dog. No I don’t enjoy puzzles.
From the Lodz section onwards, my crying was real bad. The audience was so quiet, and I was so nervous that I would do my choking-hiccupping crying loud enough to disrupt the theatre so I had to do the Joey-thinking-about-Chandler thing and distract myself a little bit and the only thing that I could think of (because it was still relevant subject matter, at least) was the Crazy Ex Girlfriend song I quoted above, ‘Remember that we Suffered”, so while I was crying outwardly at Lemmel my dude, in my head I was going “The sweet and the bitter/Remember that we suffered/Streisand and Hitler/Remember that we suffered/Spielberg and Hitler/Remember that we suffered/Have we mentioned Hitler? I’m just saying that we suffered!” It’s the best song. Anyway. The impact of seeing the words ‘an impossibly long line’ projected again towards the end broke me, absolutely broke me. It was brilliant and powerful writing and also so mean, because I was wearing two masks and it’s really hard to cry with two masks.
I knew from friends who had seen it on Bway that ‘the rain scene’, when you finally get to see what everyone had been talking about the whole time, was the most beautiful and emotional part, but I didn’t even imagine what the context would be. That aspect — who is imagining that scene and why — is something that I will both treasure and be haunted by.
Above all, it was glorious to see (during the high holidays no less) a play about Jewish people and Jewish subject matter actually performed and created by Jewish people. And in London! It’s a 5782 miracle! I hope it’s a sign of permanent change, although the fact that the Guardian review of this play felt it at all appropriate to say ‘hey you know who else is a Jew, Philip Roth!” as a way to shoehorn in yet another message about their view of the Israel conversation (that’s def what they were doing, btw) shows how much work this place still has to do.
But I digress, like the Guardian writer. This play will stick with me, and I’m sure many other audience members, as a paradigm of caring, protected, heartfelt, authentic theatre-making. I’m so grateful that this was well done, so grateful to the people involved for giving Jews one little corner of respite in a year filled with disrespect and other shit.
INFORMATION
Indecent plays at the Menier Chocolate Factory (not a chocolate factory) until November 27. I recommend you get tickets and if you’d like to get me one too I would go again (the NHS loves giving me antibx).
The Menier asks audience members to wear masks, but like every other theatre, it doesn’t have a mandate. So other people don’t have wear one and many won’t, although this crowd was better about it than at any other theatre we’ve been to recently.
Toilets are down the stairs in the restaurant part of the cafe, so if you will have to run at the end, you want to sit near the aisles, because the rows are suuuuper long, all the way across the theatre jawns.
I don’t know if any of the cast are stage-dooring because I didn’t try, because we are in a pandemic.
