I Can't Believe Back to the Future Won the Olivierby Randi / May 31, 2022Jerusalem with Mark Rylance: Biggest of Star Turns in Pertinent AF Play
It’s Theatre Thursday! We haven’t done one of these in ages, oops! I saw this months ago but I forgot! Today’s show is Jerusalem, playing at London’s Apollo Theatre until August 7.
Earlier this year (whatever year this is), husbo said to me ‘oh hey, you saw Jerusalem on Broadway with Mark Rylance, right? Was it good? What was it about?’ and I replied ‘uh…I know for sure it was NOT about actual Jerusalem?’ I know I saw it because I had a stage door picture with Mackenzie Crook, who I only really appreciated back then because he was a Pirate ghost, but I couldn’t remember anything else. That we’re talking about a play I saw more than 10 years ago had nothing to do with my complete lack of memory about what the show was about; I just didn’t appreciate it back then (Schmidt voice: YOUTHS.), although of course I appreciated how incredible Rylance was. Now that I’m old? wise?…no, BRITISH and living in England, I get what all the fuss is about. Jerusalem is engaging and provocative, and Rylance is only getting better with age.
So what IS it about? I remembered enough to tell myself I shouldn’t be worried about Jew-hatred-fueled protests outside the theatre (my expectations for a certain other show coming in the fall is another story), since the Jerusalem of the title is more about William Blake’s fabled glory of a green and promised land, that being the old mythologized England past. We meet a man named ‘Rooster’ Johnny Byron (Rooster is his nickname but that’s the order he always gives his name in, Arifa) who is essentially a squatter living in an RV in the woods (IN A VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER) and about to be evicted because well he’s not paying for those woods and they want him out so the yuppies in the new builds have a clean view. Rooster would be my absolute nightmare of a neighbor, literally the worst imaginable save for the teenagers partying with him all night, teens are worse (YOUTHS!). See they have parties in these woods, which fine you do you, but if I can hear your music at 2am I will curse your existence and wish for your name to be stricken from the book of life. I’m pretty sure I’m aligning myself with the gentrifying villains in the play but we’re all about honesty here hey.
Despite expectations, Rylance makes Rooster JB a sympathetic character, right from the start, (how much do I adore Rylance’s signature cute little whisper boy voice that he sometimes does, you know what I mean, it’s so good, let me count the ways). Here’s this middle-aged-if -we’re-being-generous man, all puffed-chest bravado and lack of showers, partying with teenagers and giving them whatever drugs they want. That last part is bad, yes, but we learn that he’s really just giving these kids a safe place to be that they aren’t finding elsewhere, not even (or in some cases, especially not even) at home. So even though it’s cringey and illegal it’s also nice and thoughtful! Is he a good witch or a bad witch? Audiences can surely interpret either way, but my view was very much ‘good witch except everything is coming across wrong’.
We see Rooster over the course of a day, St. George’s Day, where there’s a local festival. As we meet the local gang that hangs around him – we can’t really call them friends – it feels like real time, not just because it’s 3 hours long. The time flies by, like you’re at the party yourself, or if you’re me like you’re watching other people at the party you would never want to be at and that’s how you want it. It’s REALLY funny at times, especially in the first act, but as the drama builds, it gets legit harrowing too. You fear for RJB even as you make Chrissy-Tiegen-Golden-Globes-yikes-face at some of his choices.
As the story intensifies, the aura of the mythology and sense of old magic shows itself as an important part of the story. One I can’t explain or understand, really, except in that vague theatrical sense that makes you feel all you need to know, the way you know a play is achieving what it wanted. Rylance holds all the various aspects – the legends and lore, the sad sack bad father, the man trying to protect some poor kids, the insanely bad decisions – together in that compelling and heartfelt way of his. He’s a real Snape, where arguments about his true character run the gamut and people can disagree reasonably. I didn’t actually read the books.
Seeing it now that I can understand the problems with modern England and how it’s falling apart and how my electric bills are honestly criminal adds so much depth to the show. Before I thought it was a great look at class conflicts that seemed very universal, that could be picked up and set in any number of locales. And that’s still true, but the Englishness of it all makes it particularly sharp. That sense of mythology about what the country once was like is so layered, because you could just roll your eyes and say ‘it wasn’t ACTUALLY like that’ (I won’t say her name again), or you could realize the fact that no, the ‘good old days’ never really were how they’re remembered, is exactly the point. It says so much about humanity – do we ever really change, or grow, or improve our society by e.g. evicting the squatter in the woods giving drugs to kids? What if he’s the only one trying? Or something like that. Oh also ogres, real or not? What a great question for a play to leave you thinking about.
INFORMATION
Jerusalem is 3 hours, 2 acts. One regular 15-20 minute interval and then a 5 minute ‘pause’.
Best seat in the house is G1 in the stalls because it’s RIGHT on the aisle RIGHT next to the stairs leading up to the too-small women’s bathroom, yesss. Perfect for that second interval that isn’t truly an interval. (I overheard a man asking an usher, ‘hey, babes, why is this second interval just a baby baby pause, why not give us 10 minutes instead of 5 so we could all piss ourselves?’ and the usher was like ‘oh we tried having two regular intervals but it was just way too long, people were rioting’ and like, seriously, dears, 5 extra minutes is not gonna be a drop in this 3 hours bucket, and the people are rioting more about not having pissin time.
The only bad thing about sitting so close/in the stalls is that it is a verrrrrry smoky show. I had terrible contact lens headaches from my eyes breathing in all their smoke and was wrecked for a while after. I am going to renew my campaign for theatres to behave like the rest of polite society and stop allowing smoking, it makes no sense and is completely unnecessary. If you can’t show me you’re cool in another way then you aren’t cool! or whatever you’re going for.
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“Electra” at the Old Vic Will Do Some Serious Messing With Your Head
Crazy Eyes Ghostface Killah
Through Dec. 20. If in London, you must see this. It’s f-ing nuts but Scott Thomas is a must-see.
When it comes to Greek tragedies, I always assume the main character is going to die at the end. But while some important people do indeed die, spoiler, Electra lives, and nothing unexpected happens at all. So this was almost like a feel-good Greek tragedy!
When it comes to Greek tragedies, I always assume the main character is going to die at the end. But while some important people do indeed die, spoiler, Electra lives, and nothing unexpected happens at all. So this was almost like a feel-good Greek tragedy!
Okay that’s not entirely true. “Electra”, the Sophocles version, not the Euripides, though I imagine they are pretty much identical because TRUE HISTORY, is currently playing at the Old Vic in London and starring the fabulous miraculous sort-of-French wonder Kristin Scott Thomas. “Electra” is a f-ing madhouse of a depressing story, and here, played by an unrecognizable, balls-to-the-wall crazy and fully committed KST, it will tear you apart emotionally and leave you not knowing how to think or feel about anything. (Or just this.) But it’s actually predictable and almost tame compared to other ancient works of its ilk, especially because everything Electra prays for and sets out to do actually happens.
In that regard, the show is kind of boring. Who wants straightforward Greek tragedies! I expected more plot twists. More shocking murderings. It’s actually the background story that’s dramatic, not anything we learn during the 100 minutes of drama. So, if you are familiar with this play, seeing it presents you with more of an emotional roller coaster just in the character of Electra.
Are you familiar with the story? It is indeed nuts. We begin our scene in ancient Mycenae, which the characters here pronounce “my-see-nee” and I have always said “my-sen-eye” so already up is down and black is white. Agamemnon, the king of Mycenae and/or Argos, both of which are said at times and ancient scholars think could have been the same region, but British people don’t care because they hear ‘Argos’ and titter amongst themselves thinking about their beloved discount home goods shoppe, anyway, Agamemnon was killed by his wife Clytemnestra and her lover Aegisthus. I KNOW. This was actually years ago, and now Clytty and ThroatPhlegm are inhabiting Aggy’s home as King and Queen of Mycergos, with some of their children. Electra long refuses to act as a member of Aegisthus’s household, so she looks and acts more like a servant. Their son and Electra’s stars, moon, sky, and whole universe Orestes was exiled, from fear of his revenging his father, and has been missing for years. Electra has spent these years pretty much squatting in the dirt outside and praying for Orestes’s return.
In that regard, the show is kind of boring. Who wants straightforward Greek tragedies! I expected more plot twists. More shocking murderings. It’s actually the background story that’s dramatic, not anything we learn during the 100 minutes of drama. So, if you are familiar with this play, seeing it presents you with more of an emotional roller coaster just in the character of Electra.
Are you familiar with the story? It is indeed nuts. We begin our scene in ancient Mycenae, which the characters here pronounce “my-see-nee” and I have always said “my-sen-eye” so already up is down and black is white. Agamemnon, the king of Mycenae and/or Argos, both of which are said at times and ancient scholars think could have been the same region, but British people don’t care because they hear ‘Argos’ and titter amongst themselves thinking about their beloved discount home goods shoppe, anyway, Agamemnon was killed by his wife Clytemnestra and her lover Aegisthus. I KNOW. This was actually years ago, and now Clytty and ThroatPhlegm are inhabiting Aggy’s home as King and Queen of Mycergos, with some of their children. Electra long refuses to act as a member of Aegisthus’s household, so she looks and acts more like a servant. Their son and Electra’s stars, moon, sky, and whole universe Orestes was exiled, from fear of his revenging his father, and has been missing for years. Electra has spent these years pretty much squatting in the dirt outside and praying for Orestes’s return.
Power squatting
KST’s inhabiting of Electra occurs not only in her youthful crazy dancing around, dragging her toes along the sand, but also in her squatting. It’s more of an African tribal dancer squat than a weight lifter squat, and on its own it is pretty compelling. She looks like a bug. And a child. It all just works somehow.
If you didn’t know the story before, you start out definitely on Electra’s side. You want her to get her shit together, sure; the physical manifestation of her deteriorating mental stability is pitiful (and astounding). When you learn why she hates her mother so much, you’re like, yeah, okay, I see your point. What do you do if the one parent you have left murdered the other one? That’s pretty much as dark as you can get, psychologically.
But then we meet Clytemnestra herself, who is like a not-as-cool Regina from “Once Upon A Time” (mostly the cleavage), and we learn more of the back story. Ready for the Greek Tragedy Quotient ® to go up a few thousand notches? Clytemnestra killed Agamemnon because Agamemnon killed their daughter. He sacrificed her to win the war or some total b.s. like that, and Clytemnestra believes he did it for his brother Menelaus’s sake, because Menny didn’t have enough children to spare, and Aggy was like “yo bruh I have at least 3 daughters, I can spare at least 1.” Girls be worthless! So now you’re thinking, hold the phone there, Electra – your dad killed your sister, to appease the gods of war and some such b.s., and you didn’t really care? Umm that’s not exactly the sign of a fully functioning mental state. Once we know this much, we feel a little more sympathy for Clytemnestra. Sure, more violence is never the answer to violence, as this cycle usually begets more violence AND causes you to say violence four times in one sentence, but dayum, at least now you kind of get why she wanted to kill her husband. As far as reasons go, it’s a pretty good one.
Of course, the whole cold-hearted first-degree-murdery plotting of the killing argues against her heat-of-passion defense, plus there was the whole adultery aspect and making her lover the new king. So she’s not completely excused by revenge. But it’s not as clear-cut as we once thought. It’s not as simple as Electra wants us to believe.
Okay, so now we know more, the audience is grappling with heavy moral questions, awful people and awful things abound, demanding our attention and demanding to know where our sympathies lie. Clytemnestra’s story pulls at certain sympathies at first, but then she acts like a total crazy power-hungry warlord. Her ‘World of Warcraft’ style gold-plated dress doesn’t help. She’s not all sunshine. Then we have Electra, who has completely lost her shit, who is dancing and power-squatting all over the sandy stage, and is devoted without hesitation to her hatred of her mother and Aegisthus. But the all-encompassing hatred seems oddly fresh, so many years after the tragedy, and we realize it’s out of necessity. Electra needs to hold fast to this hatred to give reason and purpose to her wasted life and wasted mind. She has to commit to the intensity of her mad hatred, or else any doubt that seeps in could make her realize that it was all in vain, her resolute refusal to act as a member of Aegisthus’s house, to care for her own health at all, to live any kind of life. If she let second thoughts in, the strangely strong structure of hatred and revenge would crumble and leave her even more debilitated. This characterization reminded me of “West Side Story”, when Anita tells Maria that Tony killed her brother. Maria can only say (sing) “I have a love and it’s all that I have, Right or wrong what else can I do”, because it was all she had, and if she let the fact that her love killed her brother enter her head, she’d lose her f-ing mind. She, like Electra, makes a survivalist decision to focus on a sort of half-truth rather than let the whole picture screw with their version of reality.
And Kristin Scott Thomas portrays all of this, somehow, almost even without her words. Her physicality alone tells you everything you need to know, how her experiences have rendered her nearly inoperable. You so feel for her that, when her brother Orestes actually returns home to enact the revenge they’ve all been waiting and praying for, you actually wish them well for a moment. Yay Electra and Orestes! Hug it out! Get well! Do your thang! Then you realize that their thang is double homicide and you close one eye as all the bloodshed happens. And then it ends. No seriously, they kill the king and queen and say “Yay revenge! High five!” and then it ends. Good show!
If you didn’t know the story before, you start out definitely on Electra’s side. You want her to get her shit together, sure; the physical manifestation of her deteriorating mental stability is pitiful (and astounding). When you learn why she hates her mother so much, you’re like, yeah, okay, I see your point. What do you do if the one parent you have left murdered the other one? That’s pretty much as dark as you can get, psychologically.
But then we meet Clytemnestra herself, who is like a not-as-cool Regina from “Once Upon A Time” (mostly the cleavage), and we learn more of the back story. Ready for the Greek Tragedy Quotient ® to go up a few thousand notches? Clytemnestra killed Agamemnon because Agamemnon killed their daughter. He sacrificed her to win the war or some total b.s. like that, and Clytemnestra believes he did it for his brother Menelaus’s sake, because Menny didn’t have enough children to spare, and Aggy was like “yo bruh I have at least 3 daughters, I can spare at least 1.” Girls be worthless! So now you’re thinking, hold the phone there, Electra – your dad killed your sister, to appease the gods of war and some such b.s., and you didn’t really care? Umm that’s not exactly the sign of a fully functioning mental state. Once we know this much, we feel a little more sympathy for Clytemnestra. Sure, more violence is never the answer to violence, as this cycle usually begets more violence AND causes you to say violence four times in one sentence, but dayum, at least now you kind of get why she wanted to kill her husband. As far as reasons go, it’s a pretty good one.
Of course, the whole cold-hearted first-degree-murdery plotting of the killing argues against her heat-of-passion defense, plus there was the whole adultery aspect and making her lover the new king. So she’s not completely excused by revenge. But it’s not as clear-cut as we once thought. It’s not as simple as Electra wants us to believe.
Okay, so now we know more, the audience is grappling with heavy moral questions, awful people and awful things abound, demanding our attention and demanding to know where our sympathies lie. Clytemnestra’s story pulls at certain sympathies at first, but then she acts like a total crazy power-hungry warlord. Her ‘World of Warcraft’ style gold-plated dress doesn’t help. She’s not all sunshine. Then we have Electra, who has completely lost her shit, who is dancing and power-squatting all over the sandy stage, and is devoted without hesitation to her hatred of her mother and Aegisthus. But the all-encompassing hatred seems oddly fresh, so many years after the tragedy, and we realize it’s out of necessity. Electra needs to hold fast to this hatred to give reason and purpose to her wasted life and wasted mind. She has to commit to the intensity of her mad hatred, or else any doubt that seeps in could make her realize that it was all in vain, her resolute refusal to act as a member of Aegisthus’s house, to care for her own health at all, to live any kind of life. If she let second thoughts in, the strangely strong structure of hatred and revenge would crumble and leave her even more debilitated. This characterization reminded me of “West Side Story”, when Anita tells Maria that Tony killed her brother. Maria can only say (sing) “I have a love and it’s all that I have, Right or wrong what else can I do”, because it was all she had, and if she let the fact that her love killed her brother enter her head, she’d lose her f-ing mind. She, like Electra, makes a survivalist decision to focus on a sort of half-truth rather than let the whole picture screw with their version of reality.
And Kristin Scott Thomas portrays all of this, somehow, almost even without her words. Her physicality alone tells you everything you need to know, how her experiences have rendered her nearly inoperable. You so feel for her that, when her brother Orestes actually returns home to enact the revenge they’ve all been waiting and praying for, you actually wish them well for a moment. Yay Electra and Orestes! Hug it out! Get well! Do your thang! Then you realize that their thang is double homicide and you close one eye as all the bloodshed happens. And then it ends. No seriously, they kill the king and queen and say “Yay revenge! High five!” and then it ends. Good show!
Home, I’m Darling at the Duke of York: London’s Best New (ish) Play of 2019
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about Home, I’m Darling, which is currently playing on theWest End at the Duke of York theatre.
If this picture looks familiar to you, it’s for a good reason: we looked at the new play Home, I’m Darling only five months ago, when it played London’s National Theatre. Further confusing the rules about what constitutes West End and what doesn’t (and more confusingly, since shows at the National are sometimes eligible for Olivier Awards, what the fork the Olivier eligibility is), this play that I absolutely adored last time around has transferred to the official West End. Funnily enough, I saw the very last performance of this show at the National, and I didn’t realize until the interval that I was at the very first preview performance of this West End run, so even though they were five months apart, I saw back-to-back performances. Usually I would frown upon any public critique of a first preview, since they are supposed to be used for making changes. But I have nothing but praise for this show, so I don’t think they’ll mind. Despite a few changes from the last go round, the show was just as I remembered, except tighter and maybe even more enjoyable.
Home, I’m Darling, the pitch perfect comedy from Laura Wade, is the story of Judy (Katherine Parkinson, perfect as ever) and Johnny (Richard Harrington), a married couple who decides to fully immerse themselves in the ‘50s lifestyle they admire by having Judy stop work to become a housewife. Judy is devoted to cleaning the house with era-appropriate methods, cooking era-appropriate meals, wearing era-appropriate clothes (the costumes are still amazing) and generally letting her husband lead the way. While the concept could easily become cartoony, or fail to connect if audiences (like me) think ‘that’s a bad move, Judy’, the play delves into all the issues around this kind of lifestyle and all the problems people would encounter whether they are fully on board or not, making the story much more thought-provoking and interesting than it’s (incredible) candy-colored set would have you initially guess. Doing this in such a masterful way means the whole ‘50s thing is kind of just a framing device for analyzing a typical marriage and the problems couples face after a certain amount of time. I can’t think of another modern play that explores the intricacies of the relationship between husband and wife in such a compelling way while remaining as entertaining and funny.
As ever, Katherine Parkinson gives a star performance, with every decision and movement the property of Judy, even, I believe, the intriguing tone of her voice and manner of delivery. But my real surprise here was Harrington, who didn’t strike me the last time through as Parkinson did. With the passage of time, he has really come to understand Johnny and make his decisions much more convincing and understandable. Together, the two are flawless.
Excitingly, the rest of the cast is mostly changed, and all the newcomers were giving spot-on performances at the first performance. Judy’s mother, now played by Susan Brown, continues to be the persuasive voice of reason, at least to me, in her quest to end this game of her daughter’s that is wasting her potential. It’s a small role, though the mother does get some great monologues, but Brown makes her presence felt so strongly and does so much with what she has that she seems a much bigger character.
I was upset at first to see that Judy’s friend Fran was recast, because at the National, Fran was played by the only actor of color in the whole cast (Kathryn Drysdale). Being a woman of color gave Fran’s interest in following Judy’s lead as a ‘50s-style housewife even more depth, and could have been enhanced to show her assessment of the role. But the new Fran, Siubhan Harrison, really is fantastic. I’ve only seen her in musicals before, so I was impressed by her performance in this straight play. My absolute favorite small moment of the whole show came from her: when Fran and her husband Marcus (still an entertaining scumbag!) are at Judy and Johnny’s house having tea, and Judy brings out her ridiculous achievement of a cake (which Marcus proclaims the best he has ever had), Judy cuts herself a piece and I noticed she shoved the rest of her slice of the ‘interesting’ cake that Fran brought back onto the serving tray. As everyone kept talking and the focus was elsewhere, Fran looked downward for a second and seemed embarrassed. I found this moment incredible, doing so much in literally one second when we’re not even supposed to be looking at Fran.
Yet everything in this play feels this detailed, from the delightful set (and that Act II change, wonderful) to the accurate costumes to the never-ending ballet of food. I mentioned last time that I’ve never seen so much food in a play before. I think we see Judy preparing all three of Johnny’s daily meals (plus snacks and drinks and dessert) for every day we see. I don’t know how they keep it all straight (and I really hope it doesn’t all go to waste). But every aspect of the play had to be this precise to keep up with the writing, which is engaging and unpredictably captivating. Home, I’m Darling is such an unexpected gem that I can’t help but love.
INFORMATION
Every single other piece about this show annoyingly repeats “for 11 weeks only” so I will give you the actual end date: April 13. Was that so hard, everyone else?
After the run on the West End, the show will be touring the UK, with dates in Bath, Salford, and back to its Welsh home of Theatre Clwyd which no I have no idea how to pronounce, it’s probably like Smith or something.
The show is 2 hours 30 minutes with one interval. Like all West End theatres, the Duke of York is in need of a refurb, especially when it comes to the bathrooms – if you sit in the front right stalls, the closest ladies room is up the stairs in the mezzanine, which is very, very stupid.
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about Home, I’m Darling, which is currently playing on theWest End at the Duke of York theatre.
If this picture looks familiar to you, it’s for a good reason: we looked at the new play Home, I’m Darling only five months ago, when it played London’s National Theatre. Further confusing the rules about what constitutes West End and what doesn’t (and more confusingly, since shows at the National are sometimes eligible for Olivier Awards, what the fork the Olivier eligibility is), this play that I absolutely adored last time around has transferred to the official West End. Funnily enough, I saw the very last performance of this show at the National, and I didn’t realize until the interval that I was at the very first preview performance of this West End run, so even though they were five months apart, I saw back-to-back performances. Usually I would frown upon any public critique of a first preview, since they are supposed to be used for making changes. But I have nothing but praise for this show, so I don’t think they’ll mind. Despite a few changes from the last go round, the show was just as I remembered, except tighter and maybe even more enjoyable.
Home, I’m Darling, the pitch perfect comedy from Laura Wade, is the story of Judy (Katherine Parkinson, perfect as ever) and Johnny (Richard Harrington), a married couple who decides to fully immerse themselves in the ‘50s lifestyle they admire by having Judy stop work to become a housewife. Judy is devoted to cleaning the house with era-appropriate methods, cooking era-appropriate meals, wearing era-appropriate clothes (the costumes are still amazing) and generally letting her husband lead the way. While the concept could easily become cartoony, or fail to connect if audiences (like me) think ‘that’s a bad move, Judy’, the play delves into all the issues around this kind of lifestyle and all the problems people would encounter whether they are fully on board or not, making the story much more thought-provoking and interesting than it’s (incredible) candy-colored set would have you initially guess. Doing this in such a masterful way means the whole ‘50s thing is kind of just a framing device for analyzing a typical marriage and the problems couples face after a certain amount of time. I can’t think of another modern play that explores the intricacies of the relationship between husband and wife in such a compelling way while remaining as entertaining and funny.
As ever, Katherine Parkinson gives a star performance, with every decision and movement the property of Judy, even, I believe, the intriguing tone of her voice and manner of delivery. But my real surprise here was Harrington, who didn’t strike me the last time through as Parkinson did. With the passage of time, he has really come to understand Johnny and make his decisions much more convincing and understandable. Together, the two are flawless.
Excitingly, the rest of the cast is mostly changed, and all the newcomers were giving spot-on performances at the first performance. Judy’s mother, now played by Susan Brown, continues to be the persuasive voice of reason, at least to me, in her quest to end this game of her daughter’s that is wasting her potential. It’s a small role, though the mother does get some great monologues, but Brown makes her presence felt so strongly and does so much with what she has that she seems a much bigger character.
I was upset at first to see that Judy’s friend Fran was recast, because at the National, Fran was played by the only actor of color in the whole cast (Kathryn Drysdale). Being a woman of color gave Fran’s interest in following Judy’s lead as a ‘50s-style housewife even more depth, and could have been enhanced to show her assessment of the role. But the new Fran, Siubhan Harrison, really is fantastic. I’ve only seen her in musicals before, so I was impressed by her performance in this straight play. My absolute favorite small moment of the whole show came from her: when Fran and her husband Marcus (still an entertaining scumbag!) are at Judy and Johnny’s house having tea, and Judy brings out her ridiculous achievement of a cake (which Marcus proclaims the best he has ever had), Judy cuts herself a piece and I noticed she shoved the rest of her slice of the ‘interesting’ cake that Fran brought back onto the serving tray. As everyone kept talking and the focus was elsewhere, Fran looked downward for a second and seemed embarrassed. I found this moment incredible, doing so much in literally one second when we’re not even supposed to be looking at Fran.
Yet everything in this play feels this detailed, from the delightful set (and that Act II change, wonderful) to the accurate costumes to the never-ending ballet of food. I mentioned last time that I’ve never seen so much food in a play before. I think we see Judy preparing all three of Johnny’s daily meals (plus snacks and drinks and dessert) for every day we see. I don’t know how they keep it all straight (and I really hope it doesn’t all go to waste). But every aspect of the play had to be this precise to keep up with the writing, which is engaging and unpredictably captivating. Home, I’m Darling is such an unexpected gem that I can’t help but love.
INFORMATION
Every single other piece about this show annoyingly repeats “for 11 weeks only” so I will give you the actual end date: April 13. Was that so hard, everyone else?
After the run on the West End, the show will be touring the UK, with dates in Bath, Salford, and back to its Welsh home of Theatre Clwyd which no I have no idea how to pronounce, it’s probably like Smith or something.
The show is 2 hours 30 minutes with one interval. Like all West End theatres, the Duke of York is in need of a refurb, especially when it comes to the bathrooms – if you sit in the front right stalls, the closest ladies room is up the stairs in the mezzanine, which is very, very stupid.
1 Comment
Wonderful review! Would love to see it. Oh humanity we will never get it right
Love love your writing
Now go write a play (something’s gotta give)
You are ready !
❤️🎭🎭❤️