Oh Dear, I Just Got Two and a Half Hours Older
Well, I walked out of a show yesterday. I actually sat there with a look of horror and disbelief on my face from the moment it opened. About an hour in I started looking for my pocket knife but couldn't find it. It was only out of respect and empathy for the actors that I didn't walk out before the HOUR AND A HALF of the first act was over.
It almost killed one woman! I kid you not. She and her husband got up to leave in what I thought was mere disgust but as she reached the door she fainted. Naturally our attention shifted to her as a momentary relief from the abomination that was on stage. Then we all filed past her and left her for dead. Except one kind and clever woman who offered her the age old cure-all; a mint. Brilliant. Why the woman didn't accept, I have no idea. Maybe she just wanted to die in peace.
The offending show, my friends, was Ruby's Last Dollar.
A Pork Chop production starring Jacki Weaver, directed by Jeremy Sims, about...oh don't worry.
Now I know why Simsy collapsed in a Kings Cross lane way after opening night. Shame. And probably excruciating pain and emptiness after laying the world's biggest steaming turd in the Sydney Opera House.
It was like a school play in Dubbo. The costumes looked like they had been sewed by Simsy's mum, the sets built by kids in a remand centre, the lights borrowed from a dentist's clinic and designed by a grade three geography teacher and the acting...oh Lord, where do I start?
Well, let's start with the good bit; Jackie. She was actually fine but had nothing to do other than narrate. For Christ's sake, give the woman something to do! The younger version of her was played by someone who shall remain nameless as I'm sure she's a lovely girl, but shall we just say that when she first came on stage she was playing what I thought was a slightly retarded five year old. You know that cringe making acting where they point their toes in (cause all little kids are knock kneed), and speak in a squeaky voice? Well, turns out that she was "only fifteen" at the start of the story!!!!!!! It just went down hill from there.
Peppered with an ensemble of actors who out did the term O.T.T, the final threshold came when a rather tall and lanky old B.F.G was squeezed into one of Mrs. Sims' hand sewn and padded black spider costumes and asked to play the seductive Russian actor on tour with Ruby - the one who was going to pop her cherry. More to the point, we were asked to believe that he was sexy and charming, whilst trying not to laugh out loud. They were bigger than huge and badder than big. I'm telling you, I've seen a lot of bad shows (and a lot of brilliant shows) but this just shocked me. And hurt me. It was like being slapped over the face with a big wet piece of dead, smelly theatre.
I could go on but I won't. The point I'm trying to make is DON'T WASTE YOUR TIME OR MONEY ON THIS ONE FOLKS!!!!!!!!
Do yourself a favour and spend that money on something worthwhile. Even purchasing a red hot poker to stick in your eye - you'd enjoy it more. Thankfully my ticket was free. Am I ungrateful? I did thank my date ten times for taking me. Luckily he hated it too. He's the one who has to call the producer and tell her what he thought as she was really keen to hear his feedback, poor bastard. If anyone has any diplomatic, clever responses let me know, 'cause I couldn't think of any.
Anyway, it's Sunday now, it's raining and I'm being serenaded by the guitar so it's all cool.
Favourite thing today: M.I.A - the girl's got funk. She's like Missy Elliot meets Bollywood.
X
It almost killed one woman! I kid you not. She and her husband got up to leave in what I thought was mere disgust but as she reached the door she fainted. Naturally our attention shifted to her as a momentary relief from the abomination that was on stage. Then we all filed past her and left her for dead. Except one kind and clever woman who offered her the age old cure-all; a mint. Brilliant. Why the woman didn't accept, I have no idea. Maybe she just wanted to die in peace.
The offending show, my friends, was Ruby's Last Dollar.
A Pork Chop production starring Jacki Weaver, directed by Jeremy Sims, about...oh don't worry.
Now I know why Simsy collapsed in a Kings Cross lane way after opening night. Shame. And probably excruciating pain and emptiness after laying the world's biggest steaming turd in the Sydney Opera House.
It was like a school play in Dubbo. The costumes looked like they had been sewed by Simsy's mum, the sets built by kids in a remand centre, the lights borrowed from a dentist's clinic and designed by a grade three geography teacher and the acting...oh Lord, where do I start?
Well, let's start with the good bit; Jackie. She was actually fine but had nothing to do other than narrate. For Christ's sake, give the woman something to do! The younger version of her was played by someone who shall remain nameless as I'm sure she's a lovely girl, but shall we just say that when she first came on stage she was playing what I thought was a slightly retarded five year old. You know that cringe making acting where they point their toes in (cause all little kids are knock kneed), and speak in a squeaky voice? Well, turns out that she was "only fifteen" at the start of the story!!!!!!! It just went down hill from there.
Peppered with an ensemble of actors who out did the term O.T.T, the final threshold came when a rather tall and lanky old B.F.G was squeezed into one of Mrs. Sims' hand sewn and padded black spider costumes and asked to play the seductive Russian actor on tour with Ruby - the one who was going to pop her cherry. More to the point, we were asked to believe that he was sexy and charming, whilst trying not to laugh out loud. They were bigger than huge and badder than big. I'm telling you, I've seen a lot of bad shows (and a lot of brilliant shows) but this just shocked me. And hurt me. It was like being slapped over the face with a big wet piece of dead, smelly theatre.
I could go on but I won't. The point I'm trying to make is DON'T WASTE YOUR TIME OR MONEY ON THIS ONE FOLKS!!!!!!!!
Do yourself a favour and spend that money on something worthwhile. Even purchasing a red hot poker to stick in your eye - you'd enjoy it more. Thankfully my ticket was free. Am I ungrateful? I did thank my date ten times for taking me. Luckily he hated it too. He's the one who has to call the producer and tell her what he thought as she was really keen to hear his feedback, poor bastard. If anyone has any diplomatic, clever responses let me know, 'cause I couldn't think of any.
Anyway, it's Sunday now, it's raining and I'm being serenaded by the guitar so it's all cool.
Favourite thing today: M.I.A - the girl's got funk. She's like Missy Elliot meets Bollywood.
X
posted by Darcy at 4:37 PM
3 Comments:
i await the day when you have your own movie show with great anticipation.
lets have a drink soon.
i like you.
What did I say about FUCKING THEATRE????
Will these people ever fucking learn???
Geez.
and by "movie show", i meant performance arts review show.
*blushes*
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