Bad Theatre Moves Slowly

Evan has loved every theatre performance at Bella’s school, so I thought it would be great to take him to a professional production.The play premise sounded intriguing. The play was written and directed by women. The blurb mentioned autism. One of the main characters was an orangutan, which I thought would be a draw for my animal-loving grandchildren. So with considerable anticipation, I got tickets for Evan, Bella, Seth, and me tonight. (Cristina’s out of town.)

The play moved like cooling magma. It aimed to teach the audience about autism, but it forgot to be engaging or entertaining. The relationships didn’t work. The actors weren’t listening to each other. The costumes were ill-fitting and ugly. It was S-L-O-W. We were all looking at our watches after half an hour. After thirty-five minutes. Forty. Forty-three. The kids politely stifled their yawns. Evan tried not to fidget in his seat. Bella actually fell asleep in her chair for a stretch. By the time the play reached its climax, with two of the five characters dying, we so longed for release that we wanted them to just die and get it over with, PLEASE. 

As Seth drove me home, he mused, “That’s the kind of play that makes right-wing people want to cut funding for the arts.” True.

At least it was a break from the humiliating farce being performed by the evil immoral bloated vicious orange egomaniac. Zelenskyy showed the world how a person of integrity deals with a bully. I’d say the reputation of the USA hit rock-bottom today. So a bit of well-intentioned but moribund theatre looked good by comparison, and a dog on a glow-stick leash was more interesting than either one.