Cheesy Theatre
Off to the Old Vic (que endless mental repitition of punk classic 'is Vic there' in head all day) to see 'the Philidelphia Story'. Not, as Lou thought when she bought the tickets, the story of popular swing band leader Glen Miller or even a story about soft cheese, but the play based on the film based on the play (well, a play then, that was made into a film), about a society wedding.
The play was filmed and made famous with Cary Grant playing CK Dexter haven 'You had no understanding of my deep and holy thirst', Jimmy Stewart 'With the rich and powerful, always a little patience' and Katherine Hepburn 'Dexter, don't tell me you've forsaken your beloved whisky and whisky?'.
This play had Kevin Spacey in it. Always interesting to see a movie star on stage. The other actors were good, but he just illuminated the stage. It may have had something, in fact it may have had quite a LOT to do with his costume being several shades brighter than every other bloke's, as they were mostly in evening dress and indistinguishable from one another.
This issue of being indistinguishable was partly due to location. Seeing live performances in Edinburgh, you're normally in a venue that, for the rest of the year, is a broom cupboard and so are close enough to the actors to smell the naked stage-fright. In a London theatre, in the circle, you need the Hubble telescope just to see them.
Not that the people in the expensive seats were having a better time of it. Apparently every time the actors moved to the back of the stage, they were lost to sight to the people in the front row!
It was an interesting crowd. The usual set of people out for an evening, a sprinkling of people that go to the theatre the same way we go to bars and a lot of tourists.
There is a rumour that the Old Vic is close to closing and that Kevin Spacey stepped in as artistic director to extend its life. But it's old, and tired, and the seats are too small. Maybe it's just had its day.
The play itself was okay, but not as good as the film. My enjoyment was tempered by my feeling like hell. A rogue sandwich or bad pint had seen me locked in the loo for most of the afternoon and, while I as feeling better in the evening, my body decided that this was a good time to sweat, a lot. Naturally this was eased by being in the circle seats of a hot theatre. I clung on to my little bottle of water and hoped like hell that my bottom would behave itself. Nothing quite like a cataclysmic attack of something that feels like amoebic dysentery to kick off the weekend.
There were mutterings that perhaps the state of my health might be connected to the amount I drink. Nonsense, I drink enough to stay healthy, if anything, I drink more than enough to maintain a robust constitution!
The play was filmed and made famous with Cary Grant playing CK Dexter haven 'You had no understanding of my deep and holy thirst', Jimmy Stewart 'With the rich and powerful, always a little patience' and Katherine Hepburn 'Dexter, don't tell me you've forsaken your beloved whisky and whisky?'.
This play had Kevin Spacey in it. Always interesting to see a movie star on stage. The other actors were good, but he just illuminated the stage. It may have had something, in fact it may have had quite a LOT to do with his costume being several shades brighter than every other bloke's, as they were mostly in evening dress and indistinguishable from one another.
This issue of being indistinguishable was partly due to location. Seeing live performances in Edinburgh, you're normally in a venue that, for the rest of the year, is a broom cupboard and so are close enough to the actors to smell the naked stage-fright. In a London theatre, in the circle, you need the Hubble telescope just to see them.
Not that the people in the expensive seats were having a better time of it. Apparently every time the actors moved to the back of the stage, they were lost to sight to the people in the front row!
It was an interesting crowd. The usual set of people out for an evening, a sprinkling of people that go to the theatre the same way we go to bars and a lot of tourists.
There is a rumour that the Old Vic is close to closing and that Kevin Spacey stepped in as artistic director to extend its life. But it's old, and tired, and the seats are too small. Maybe it's just had its day.
The play itself was okay, but not as good as the film. My enjoyment was tempered by my feeling like hell. A rogue sandwich or bad pint had seen me locked in the loo for most of the afternoon and, while I as feeling better in the evening, my body decided that this was a good time to sweat, a lot. Naturally this was eased by being in the circle seats of a hot theatre. I clung on to my little bottle of water and hoped like hell that my bottom would behave itself. Nothing quite like a cataclysmic attack of something that feels like amoebic dysentery to kick off the weekend.
There were mutterings that perhaps the state of my health might be connected to the amount I drink. Nonsense, I drink enough to stay healthy, if anything, I drink more than enough to maintain a robust constitution!
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