Is the West End the Best End?

I am back in the States and three thousand miles away from the West End so, by definition, my theatre reviews should come to an end. However, while abroad, my interest in theatre writing was sparked, and now I cannot bear to stop. So, I have decided to continue critiquing the theatre I see, regardless of location, while also commenting on various aspects of theatre and art. And what better place to start than with a comparison of the two theatrical capitals of the world?

Since I grew up in suburban Massachusetts, attending professional theatrical productions was a rare treat. I have always been jealous of kids who grew up in or around New York City, the ones who talked constantly of all the Broadway productions to which their parents had taken them. For me, a professional production would be a birthday present, a big ordeal; thus, my expertise and interest in all things Broadway comes primarily from soundtracks and video clips, in addition to the occasional show. Once I moved to Boston for school, I was able to see more professional pieces, mainly when Broadway tours made their way through the city, but for someone who claims to thrive on everything theatre related, I really have not done as well as I should. So when I decided to study abroad in London, I promised myself I would make the most of the trip and see as much theatre in the West End as I possibly could!

Often, Broadway and the West End are mentioned within the same breath, twins across the Atlantic. Both London and New York are known for their theatre scenes and proudly promote the quality of their productions. The city centers are filled with theatres, posters, and flashing lights; dark nights are lit up by the marquees of the musicals and plays. Productions start in one city and make their way to the other, well known actors are routinely seen in both locations, and soundtracks are made from each cast. The two are incredibly comparable, but having experienced both, I can accurately say that theatre life in London and New York each has its own personality.

New York is so incredibly fast paced and Broadway is quite condensed. All the theatres are in the same place, which creates a sort of theatrical community. Every other person on the street is a working actor or a wannabe actor, and everyone else is a theatre supporter. There is a sense of camaraderie in the Big Apple: everyone is in it together, or at least against it together. London is just as busy, but less condensed. The West End refers to a much larger area, so there are only a few theatres on each street. You cannot simply stroll from theatre to theatre unless you have a good amount of time to spare, so its best to know where exactly you are going. Theatre is prevalent, but it’s spread out. If this were a competition, I would give Broadway a point here.

Another difference: it’s quite a bit easier to explore the West End on a budget, since there are student prices or rush tickets offered at most, if not all, theatres. In New York, a select few lucky individuals win the ticket lottery and can purchase tickets at a reduced rate, but the odds of being chosen are almost as unlikely as winning the actual lottery! In my time in London, I was only turned away once, because the entire performance was sold out, not because there were no student prices available. At most, I paid twenty five pounds for a ticket in the West End. This all being said, I do not mean to sound critical of New York. Alternatively, I see the two cities as different theatrical experiences. Seeing a Broadway production is a treat; it is something you splurge on and something you cherish. The West End is more about theatre for everyone, making productions more accessible. It’s a hard choice, but I’d say this one goes to the West End.

Besides those major differences, there are smaller, less substantial variations. Programs do not come free in London. You have to pay 4-6 pounds, which, added to the price of the ticket, seems high, just to know the cast list! The programs are much more detailed, with pictures and bios, but I was disappointed not to be able to collect programs of the shows I attended while there. One for New York. Also, actors seem a bit more humble in London, only taking a single bow, compared to the three encores, multiple bows, and guaranteed standing ovation in New York. Have to give that one to London.

Really, each city has its strengths and weaknesses, but I think their similarities are more important than their differences. Both are vibrant and exciting cities that offer the best theatrical productions in the world and a visit to either is an amazing opportunity. After finally having the ability to live in a city where theatre is not only prevalent, but abundant, I now appreciate how important it is to see theatre whenever given the chance. Whether it be Broadway or West End productions, touring companies, or community theatre pieces, theatre is such an incredible way to stay connected to the world. Now that I am back in Boston, I am going to be much more dedicated to the theatre scene in my own city, and try to see as much as possible.

So, until the next curtain call,

Alex

“Someone Who’ll Watch Over Me” All the Way From London

“Sweeney Todd” would have been a nice note on which to end. It was grand and impressive, filled with big names and incredible vocalists. And more than anything, it was as stereotypical London as a show can get with its cockney accents, meat pies, and constant references to the city. But instead of ending my theatrical run there, in my last few days in London, I ventured into an area that I regret not paying more attention to during my stay: off-West End theatre. As it turns out, the off-West End theatre scene is incredibly vibrant, offering a huge range of new and interesting pieces. Sure, the theatres seat far less people and I do not recognize the actors’ names, but the quality of the work is just as powerful and stunning as the more professional productions. Although I still believe the West End is the best end, I am absolutely going to explore productions in lesser known theatres the next time I find myself in London.

For my final London production, I saw “Someone Who’ll Watch Over Me”, a play written by Irish dramatist Frank McGuinness. It is about three individuals: an Englishman, an Irishman, and an American, all who have been taken hostage for unknown reasons in Lebanon and are jailed in the same cell. The three men struggle with their own personal issues, as well as with nationalistic differences and stereotypes. The piece deals with an extremely dark and controversial subject; however, the play manages to include quite a bit of humor, while still remaining honest. Although I questioned the realness of the writing at the very beginning (cultural stereotypes were used a bit excessively), it took me only a few minutes to become invested in the characters and their stories. Few plays cause me to both laugh out loud and cry actual tears, but this piece was very powerful and I was incredibly touched by what I saw.

The production, staged at the Southwark Theatre, was directed by Jessica Swale. The stage was a large, square platform which acted as the prison cell and included sparse props: just a radiator, blankets, a crate, and the chains to which the prisoners were attached. The lighting was fairly murky and misty, giving the impression that the men were indeed in a dark cell and setting a somber mood, regardless of how comedic the action became. In between each scene, intensely bright lights would shine directly into the audience, in what I assume to have been an attempt to make the audience feel both uncomfortable and extremely aware of themselves and their surroundings. Although I did not enjoy that aspect at the time, I now believe it was a very strong and effective choice. The production was simple, so the attention was focused primarily on the actors, which was absolutely where it belonged.

The three actors in this production had fantastic chemistry and obviously understood the people they were portraying to a tee. The three characters and actors were as different as they could be, which provided for an entertaining story. The Englishman was played by Robin Soans, a hilarious, uptight old gentleman. At first, I had trouble believing the part, as I thought the character needed to show more emotion, but after my London friends explained to me that keeping feelings inside was in fact the British way, I grew to enjoy the performer and his quirks. The American man was played by Joseph Timms, who was absolutely adorable and played the optimistic Adam so convincingly that I rooted for him from the start. When he told a humorous story, I was the first to laugh; when he cried, I was the first to shed a tear on his behalf. I was a big fan. His American accent wasn’t bad either, though a word or two gave him away! That being said, I imagine that I was the only American in the audience; thus, the only one to notice. Finally, the Irishman was played by Billy Carter, by far the most impressive of the three. The range of emotions that Carter produced was astonishing, and the moment where he talked about his father and was so true to his character that he cried real, honest tears left me shaking. All three of these actors were talented, but what made this production something special was the chemistry between them. Their relationships seemed so real and believable, and my heart broke time and again as they each faced their struggles. They did a beautiful job.

Unfortunately, this production was not running for a very long amount of time, and since I took too much time reviewing it, the piece has already closed. It is such a shame that it was not staying for longer, because it was such a powerful and beautiful piece. We looked at many options when trying to figure out what off-West End production we wanted to see and even though, as an audience member, I tend to prefer more comedic plays, I kept coming back to this one. And I am so thankful that we did choose to see this production, because it was one of the most moving pieces I have seen in London. It may not have been as grand and technically impressive as the West End productions, but it had the heart. And it captured mine!

I am sad to say that this will be the last review of a West End (or off-West End!) production as my time in London is over. This has truly been the best five months of my life and having the opportunity to be immersed in such a rich theatrical and cultural atmosphere is something for which I will be forever grateful. I have learned so much this semester and have seen and experienced so many new things. In the past five months, I have visited eight different countries, tried endless amounts of new cuisine, seen an outrageous amount of theatre, participated in some theatre of my own, and met some of the best people I have ever had the honor to know. I have experienced so many new things, people, and places, but the greatest part of this semester was undoubtedly the friends I made. I miss them everyday. In my life, I will visit lots of places and meet tons of people, but London will always have my heart!

I have also had a wonderful experience with West End Best End. Most people do not get the opportunity to see a single production in the West End, nevermind thirteen! I am so very thankful for what this semester has done for me and have truly loved every minute of it. I cannot bear the idea of saying goodbye to West End Best End, nor has my desire to write about theatre been fulfilled; thus, I am planning on continuing to write about theatrical productions I see, my internship at a professional theatre in Boston, and any musings about the theatrical world that may cross my mind. I can’t give up now, I’m far too invested! So, I am going to continue to write about the area of life about which I am most passionate as I experience it all over the world, but in my heart, the West End will always be the Best End.

Until the next curtain call,

Alex

“Sweeney Todd” Makes a Haunting Impact

I am unabashedly and wholeheartedly a Stephen Sondheim fan. His music is difficult and odd and at times incredibly dissonant, but I think the work he does is genius. The way he can meld intense harmonies and tongue twisting lyrics, resulting in powerful and challenging ensemble pieces, is absolutely brilliant. I first fell in love with Sondheim during my sophomore year of high school, when our theatre department put on “Into the Woods” as our spring musical. 

For those who are not familiar, “Into the Woods” intwines the stories of Little Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel, Cinderella, and Jack and the Beanstalk through the means of an invented storyline about a Baker and his Wife. The first act follows the outline of a standard fairy tale. The second act is incredibly sinister, showing what happens “after happily ever after”. And the entire musical showcases some of the most challenging and intensive musical pieces that I have ever heard.

After auditions, I assumed that if anything, I had a shot at Cinderella, since I tend to play the damsel in distress kinds of roles, but in a surprising twist, I was cast as the Baker’s Wife, which remains my favorite role to date. That show was one of my fondest memories of high school, as I had a wonderful time playing with all of my silly friends and exploring one of the best parts I have ever had the honor to play. Sondheim is incredibly ambitious for a high school theatre company, especially one without a substantial music program, but I believe we did a fairly good job. It was a fun two months!

The most lasting impact that experience had on me, however, was my unwavering admiration of Sondheim’s music. I adore the beautiful melodies, the complex harmonies, the striking lyrics. As a rule, I tend to find Sondheim shows more engaging, more challenging to those who watch. They have intricate plot lines (such as in “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum”), complicated ensemble numbers (such as in “Company”), and heartbreaking standards (such as in “A Little Night Music”).  In my opinion, Sondheim cannot be beat. 

Last week, I had my first opportunity to see a Sondheim show while in London, and it was perhaps one of the most haunting experiences I have had while here. The Adelphi Theatre presented “Sweeney Todd” with Michael Ball and Imelda Staunton, two of the most talented performers I have seen. I am a fan of both Ball and Staunton, from Ball’s history in the West End, particularly in “Les Miserables”, and from Staunton’s run as Professor Umbridge in the Harry Potter films. Even if “Sweeney Todd”, one of Sondheim’s darkest and most exciting musicals, was not enough of a draw, I would have done anything to see these two performers. 

And they did not disappoint. Michael Ball was a stunning Sweeney, with unmatchable vocals and an eerie persona. He has notoriously played kinder roles, such as Marius in “Les Miserables”, and physically, he appears quite approachable. However, he used this look to his advantage. Instead of playing Sweeney hardened and angry, he played him slightly crazed, turning his kind eyes into unstable ones. He was so amazingly powerful, especially in his ballad “Epiphany”, when he leered over the audience on an extended platform, coming up close and personal with those watching. Personally, I was most excited to see Imelda Staunton. I knew she was going to be incredible, and she surpassed my expectations. Staunton was the funniest, silliest Mrs. Lovett I have ever seen, which was a nice change. She made the character unbelievably real, while also providing much of the entertainment. “The Worst Pies in London”, the song that introduces her character, was laugh out loud hilarious, and I was pleasantly surprised by the power and expertise in her vocals. I was overwhelmed by how incredible these two performers were. 

The ensemble matched the talent of the show’s protagonists one hundred percent. The harmonies in this show are incredibly difficult, demanding ensemble members with huge ranges and the ability to sing in tight, dissonant tones. The quintet that sings “The Letter” literally sent chills down my spine. A lot of credit also goes towards the orchestra, which played the complicated and demanding melodies with ease. The ensemble numbers were arguably the best in the show.

Regrettably, those were the only performers that wowed me. I think it must have been because the protagonists were so unmatchably brilliant, but I was disappointing by the supporting cast. Johanna and Anthony are notoriously boring roles, and this cast did not do anything to amend that issue (though they were both beautiful). Toby, though physically perfect for the role, since he looked like a Pinnochio doll, seemed uncomfortable while singing “Not While I’m Around”, one of my favorite songs from the musical. And the Judge was unmemorable. Of all the supporting roles, I was most impressed by the Beadle, who had a surprisingly powerful and melodic voice. Honestly, these performers were probably very talented and in any other production would have stood out, but when presented next to Ball and Staunton, they did not match up. 

Physically, the production was remarkable. The set was elaborate and effortless, with a massive rotating centerpiece that showcased both Sweeney’s barber shop and the dungeon below. I have never been one to notice lighting effects, but I was astounded by how realistic the sun shining in from the windows above looked. Costumes were perfectly appropriate, while maintaining a level of uniqueness, as the era was changed to the 1930s/1940s. The time change was so effective that I did not even notice the switch until halfway through the production. The special effects were incredible, with (SPOILER ALERT, but not really) bodies that fell through the floor and throat slashing that made me cringe. Everything was misty and dark, giving the production a spooky air of mystery. It absolutely put me in the right mindset.

This production was, deep breath, ladies and gentleman, probably the best show I have seen while in London. I may have said that before, but this show has substantially outshone the rest. The leads were everything I dreamed and more, keeping me on the edge of my seat and with a constant feeling of bewilderment and anticipation. The ensemble produced breathtaking harmonies, filling the room with Sondheim’s haunting music. And the production itself was so realistic and stunning that I felt as if I was in the barbershop myself. I don’t know how much longer Ball and Staunton will stay in these roles, so I’d recommend seeing this one as soon as possible.

Now, with my Sondheim obsession restored, I’m off to listen to the soundtrack of “Merrily We Roll Along”. Brilliant.

Until the next curtain call,

Alex

Animal Stories Make Me Cry: “War Horse”

Let me start off by saying that I absolutely hate movies and plays about animals. I think it may have stemmed from the fairly unknown 1995 film Fluke about the man who passes away, reincarnates as a chocolate lab, and is adopted by the family he left behind; a truly devastating concept for a movie, especially as an eight year old. After this particular scarring, which took place during this one of our weekly family movie nights, I vetoed any film about pets for the rest of my childhood. I don’t know what makes animal movies sadder than the rest, but as soon as the protagonist is introduced as a golden retriever or a good natured seal at the local aquarium, you know that something tragic is in the cards. I can handle violence and tragedy in most movies, but when a pup has to go to the veterinarian for emergency surgery or is abruptly separated from his little boy owner, I lose all ability to differentiate from real life and fiction.

Thus, it is no surprise that a play which centers around a horse who is lovingly raised by a young boy and is subsequently ripped away from him to be sent to war did not immediately appeal to me. But “War Horse” is huge right now and I knew the piece was impressive, both from its five wins in the 2011 Tony Awards and from its extreme popularity here in London, which has made it impossible to get affordable tickets less than two months in advance. So when my parents booked their flights to London and expressed interest in seeing some West End performances, “War Horse” jumped to the forefront of my mind, mainly because of its UK notoriety, and a little because of my inability to afford tickets on my own.

This was also the perfect show to bring my parents to because both of them could appreciate it, and for very different reasons. My father, who is not quite the theatre connoisseur that both my mother and I claim to be, was interested primarily in the historical aspects of the story. The play takes place during World War One, and follows the UK’s involvement throughout the war. It is an incredibly intelligent piece, which appeals to my father’s shrewd and academic mind. My mother tends to look at theatre from a directorial standpoint; thus, this piece appealed to her for the shear technical brilliance and aesthetic beauty of it. As for me, I was interested in seeing whether or not this play deserves all the fuss it has been receiving, so I put on a brave face and went to my first animal centered West End production.

“War Horse”, which was based on a novel by Michael Morpurgo and adapted for the stage by Nick Stafford, tells of relationship between a boy and his horse throughout World War One, which rips the two apart. The story itself is incredibly moving, but what sets this piece apart from any other tale about owner and pet is how the animals are physically represented. “War Horse” uses “Lion King”-like puppetry to portray the horses, with three actors controlling the creatures’ movements. The horse is physically represented as a large horse skeleton, and the actors stand within it, with one moving the horse’s head, one controlling its front legs and breathing motions, and the last in charge of its hind legs and tail.

The puppetry is undoubtedly the reason to see the show. The three actors move together in such harmony and with such elegance that it takes only a moment to forget that there is not a real horse running across the stage. In one of the classes I took this semester, we explored puppetry and the precision needed to make the puppet come to life. A living creature’s motions are so subtle, so slight, and to make an inanimate object appear to have life is an incredibly challenging task. Obviously, these actors did their homework, as I became quite invested in this creature, believing wholeheartedly that a horse was onstage in front of me. The “horse choreography” was designed by Toby Sedgwick, clearly a brilliant man.

The horses were obviously meant to be the star of the production, as everything else was fairly simple. There was no elaborate set depicting a farmhouse or a battlefield; instead, they were represented by a single door and actors holding rods for fences, or by changing lights and sound effects. Everyone in the show was incredibly present and focused, especially those who portrayed animals, and honesty came with their simplicity. I believe these actors became the animal, just as another actor would immerse himself in a human character. The realness of these creatures is difficult to describe with words; this puppetry is truly an art.

Although the horses undoubtedly stole the show, the human actors held their own as well. Albert, the young man who risks his life to find his horse, was played by Jack Holden, and was adorable. I think a lot of actors struggle when playing parts that are substantially younger than they are, since it is difficult to remember what being that age is like, and Holden was no exception. Even though Albert is sixteen, Holden started off playing him much younger, acting fairly over-the-top; however, as the character matured and was faced with more challenging situations, Holden delivered the role with honesty and earnest. He was able to create an incredible relationship not only with a non-human being, but with a puppet, and one that was believable and emotional. Another standout for me was Rachel Sanders, who played Albert’s mother. She was hilarious and powerful, and you could feel her moments of anguish in the pit of your stomach. She gave a brilliant performance.

The whole production was visually beautiful. The blocking was so fluid and smooth that I feel compelled to call it choreography. Each moment was planned so that the production was effortless. For example, in one war scene, the stage was littered with bodies. At the end of the scene, these dead bodies rolled seamlessly from their positions strewn about the stage to a spot where they all controlled one of the horses as it began to gallop. Everything was natural, but also artistic and intentional. The production moved as if it were a dance, though it was still completely realistic. This balance between art and naturalism is not an easy one to achieve, and that is a testament to the show’s directors, Marianne Elliot and Tom Morris.

I have two critiques, and they are true nitpicking. Firstly, the production chose not to use microphones, which is a choice I do not understand. Although for the most part I could hear everyone on stage, there were moments that lacked clarity. Other times, the sound effects or background music overpowered the actors, and I lost entire lines. I would have liked to hear everything! Secondly, and this is a critique of the show’s writing rather than this specific performance, some of the piece is performed in different languages, which I did not feel achieved its goal. As the horse travels to different countries in the war (specifically Germany and France), those languages are used. And although it is not for substantial amounts of the piece, it was enough that I questioned what was happening. Had it been a line or two, I would have been alright with it, but there were entire conversations that I could not understand because I don’t speak German. I understand that using the other languages creates a realness, and I do think that was the goal of the writing, but I believe it was less effective since most of the audience could not follow the action. With the exception of these two critiques, both of which are simple requests for clarity, the production was practically perfect.

I have not been converted to a lover of all productions animal based, especially since I spent most of the second act a quivering, sobbing mess, but I really enjoyed this play. I am now convinced that it is worthy of all the commotion. The acting was sensational and the simplicity of the set and lights was beautiful. But more than anything, this play deserves recognition for the brilliance of the puppetry. This production figured out a way to bring life to the non-living and to accurately convey the animalistic strength and grace for which horses are known. It was absolutely genius.

I suppose that’s the answer then. Just include remarkable, unmatchable physical representations of the animals, and I’m hooked! Maybe that’s the secret to my learning how to separate real life and fiction. Or perhaps this one is just the exception.

Until the next curtain call,

Alex 

Parents and “Matilda”, Making Me Feel Six

I am in the final throws of my jet-setting, globe-trotting month of travel, spending the last week in and out of London with none other than my lovely parents who have come to visit me! This three and a half months has been the longest I have ever been away from my family, which has been surprisingly difficult. I have never been one of those kids who gets embarrassed by their parents or is anxious to get away; rather, I believe I have the best parents in the world. They have always been incredibly supportive of me, encouraging me to pursue my interests and explore what I love, and we get along very well. The more time I spend with them, the more I realize that not only do I like them as parents, but I like them as people!

This holiday has been the first time I have spent an extended amount of time with my parents and not my sisters. Thus, it is really the first time I have truly been considered an adult and a contemporary. Exploring London and playing tourist with my parents has been extremely enjoyable. Since we are in MY city, I have been the go to guide of tourist attractions, restaurants, and most importantly, pubs! We spent two days earlier this week in Edinburgh, touring the castles and the mediocre amateur comedy scene, and are currently en route to our final destination (and the last stop on my European tour): Paris once again! But in between these trips, I took my parents to one part of London that I have grown quite familiar with: the West End.

I inherited my love of theatre from my mother. She is, coincidentally, an Emerson alum, and is now a director and professor of theatre. She really taught me everything I know about the theatrical world, both in an artistic sense and in a critical way. I would say she is the reason I go into performances ready to discuss, praise, and critique. My father, on the other hand, enjoys theatre because of the overwhelming presence it has in his life. He would much prefer a football game to a Broadway show, but he enjoys a performance every once in awhile.

Hoping to satisfy the interests of both, we saw two productions yesterday: “Matilda the Musical” at the Cambridge Theatre during the day and “WarHorse” at night. For now, I’ll comment on the former. As I have previously mentioned, my love of theatre originated from musicals. And that is a love I share with my mother. As soon as I heard that “Matilda” had been made into a musical, my interest was peaked. With my dark eyes, pale cheeks, and bobbed hair, five-year-old Alex felt quite connected to Mara Wilson and her portrayal in the 1996 film version of Rohl Dahl’s novel. And since it was such a large part of my childhood, I knew the best person to see the show with was my mother.

For those whose youths were not as influenced by Matilda as mine, the story is as follows: a brilliant little girl, who is mistreated by her superficial, slimy, uncaring parents, constantly defies expectations with her incredible intelligence and insight. At school, she is finally given a chance to explore her talents, though she must escape the reign of the terrifying, children-hating principal Miss Trunchbull. Along with the help of loving Miss Honey and Matilda’s new found magic powers, she tries to achieve justice and happiness for all.

Similar to my experience in “Billy Elliot”, I was blown away by the talent of the protagonist. Matilda was played by Eleanor Worthington Cox, an incredibly adorable little girl who was very likable, while constantly staying true to her character. Her songs were enjoyable, but her talent was primarily evident in the more dramatic scenes, where she portrayed Matilda’s innocence and kindness genuinely. The show’s children’s ensemble was brilliant, performing fairly elaborate choreography with ease, while also providing most of the show’s humor. I am always impressed by such large amounts of talent in young, less experienced performers.

The show itself is very cleverly written, while aligning with Dahl’s original novel. It stayed true to many of the infamous scenes of the book and movie, as challenging to produce as they may have been. For example (slight spoiler here), there is a scene in the film where Trunchbull takes a little girl by the pigtails and swings her around, tossing her a large distance. I was sure this scene was going to be rewritten or simply removed for the stage, but surprisingly enough, it was included and done remarkably. Trunchbull actually took the child (whose pigtails were attached to a safety harness, I am sure) and swung her around the stage by her hair. I actually sat with my jaw dropped for a solid five minutes, shocked by the brilliance of the stunt. Cleverness like this was evident in lyrics and staging throughout the show, which is both a testament to the piece’s adapter Dennis Kelly, lyricist Tim Minchin, and director Matthew Warchus.

There are a few changes to the plot, the main one being the addition of a story about an acrobat and an escape artist that Matilda tells throughout the musical. Although I generally dislike when seemingly unnecessary additions are made to well known pieces, I thought this element was beautifully written and incredibly touching, especially since actors portrayed the two roles and acted as Matilda’s substitute family throughout. This was a truly lovely addition.

Upon entering the theatre, I was immediately struck by the grandeur of the set. The entire stage and proscenium arch were covered in hundreds of toy wooden blocks of various sizes and colors. I would like to comment on the set and costumes of the performance, because I believe these elements were undoubtedly a standout. There were a remarkable amount of costumes and wigs, even for ensemble members with quick on and off roles. I cannot imagine what the backstage area must have looked like! The sets were incredibly elaborate, with moving blocks, desks rising from the floor, and a beautiful library with shelves rising to the ceiling. Rob Howell designed both sets and costume, and deserves a substantial amount of recognition for his art.

That all being said, I have two major critiques of the show. Firstly, although the show is based on a children’s book, I do think a level of realness is necessary. This production had a few moments of excess, where I was overwhelmed by the amount happening in front of me. For example, I had difficulty following the opening number because the lyrics, choreography, costumes, and general movement were so excessive and complicated. I didn’t know where to look! Most characters were presented as caricatures, which is entertaining, but lacks an honesty. The best example of this could be found in the portrayal of Miss Trunchbull. The role was brilliantly cast as a man (since she should be a large, masculine, overwhelming force), but was portrayed as an over-the-top gay man rather than a scary, manly woman. Personally, I did not think she came across as a villain at all because she was so hilariously goofy. In the book and the film, the character is absolutely terrifying, but in this production, Trunchbull was the source of most of the laughs. The actor was very enjoyable to watch, but I do not think the character’s evilness was illustrated due to the amount of focus on making her a caricature.

My second critique is not of this particular production, but of the writing. A substantial part of the book and film is Matilda’s discovery that she can move objects with her mind. In the film, there are climactic scenes where she controls rooms full of objects, standing in the midst of a spectacle of objects whirling about. Based on the rest of the special effects and stunts, there is no doubt in my mind that similar scenes could have been produced in this production. But in the play, her magic is not introduced until the last twenty minutes of the show, and is only shown by her knocking over a cup. The final scene, where Matilda uses her powers to frighten Trunchbull away, was toned down as well, and seemed rather rushed. It appeared to me as if the playwright spent so much time exploring Matilda’s family relationships and her hopes and thoughts that he forgot about this crucial plot point and squeezed them in right at the end. I would have liked a bit more exploration into that aspect of the story.

Whenever I see a play that was made from a movie or a book, I am skeptical. It is difficult to find the middle ground of creating a unique and interesting product while also staying true to the original. I do think that, despite the few discrepancies, “Matilda” had a very nice transition from screen to stage. The musical is incredibly clever, and this production was stunning to watch. It kept the same plot and included classic moments from the original, but it also added some scenes which were actually effective. I think this show is perfect for kids, as well as anyone who has the same Matilda nostalgia as I do. Honestly, watching the little girl fly around by her pigtails alone was worth the price of the ticket!

As my parents and I munch on croissants and macaroons on the lawns of the Eiffel Tower, I will collect my thoughts about the second production we saw last night, but for now, this will have to do.

Until the next curtain call,

Alex

Venturing Out Once Again: J’adore “Cyrano de Bergerac”

Unquestionably, when one studies abroad, they are expected to travel. In the States, everything is so far away, so hard to get to. But in Europe, new and exciting countries are just a short train ride away! I have entered that stage of my semester; thus, my theatre reviews have been scarce. It is hard to find time to attend West End productions while you are jetting from country to country. I have spent the past few weeks eating gelato by the gallons in Rome, lounging on the beach and avoiding street merchants in Barcelona, and, most recently, wandering starstruck through the beautiful avenues of Paris.

I have wanted to travel my whole life, but no place has sparked my interest and longing quite like Paris. As stereotypical as it may seem, I dreamed of strolling down the Champs Elysees, eating macaroons in a small cafe along the Seine, and picnicing beside the Eiffel Tower. Paris is the city of love, and I was heartsick over it. So, with London simply being a hop, skip, and a jump from the city of my dreams, I made the decision to travel to Paris for my birthday. And what a birthday it was! I spent four days in awe: exploring, daydreaming, and eating everything in sight.

As I have previously mentioned, my knowledge of the French language is slight. I know enough to ask for directions or to order a pain au chocolate, but I cannot hold a true conversation. For that reason, and because of my experience in Brussels, I did not seek out theatre in Paris. But as it always does, theatre found me. While waiting for the Metro (which has nothing on the Tube, believe you me), we stood near a collage of theatre advertisements, and one stood out: “Cyrano de Bergerac”.

For my entire childhood, I was, as my mother would say, a musical theatre muffin. It was not until my last years of high school that I was really drawn to the seriousness of straight theatre, the passion and realness found in true acting. My senior year of high school, I was cast as my first lead in a play: Roxanne in “Cyrano de Bergerac”. I have incredible memories of the show, as it was the first time I truly lost myself in a character, breaking down in the middle of the scene. The show is written so poetically and honestly, and thus, it is one of my favorite plays written.

As soon as I saw the advertisement, I knew I had to see the piece. Not only for the sake of my lacking blog, but as an opportunity to reminisce about one of my favorite productions. So last night, I made my way to “Cyrano de Bergerac” at the Théâtre Espace Marais. The plan was that my friends, who were not as set on seeing a play in a language they did not speak, would drop me off at the theatre, and I would have a lovely night immersed in the beauty of Edmond Rostand. Of course, it was not that easy. Trying to find the venue was no simple task, and no matter how many times I asked, “Ou est le théâtre?”, no one could help me. The night resolved as dramatically as always, with me discovering the theatre’s whereabouts, running through the streets of Paris at top speed, and being swiftly ushered to a seat, two minutes before the production’s start.

The theatre was tiny. The seats were organized in a half circle around a small stage with two levels, and there was only room for about 50 audience members. Unfortunately, there were only ten of us there. I am not sure if the show was in previews, or if the promotions director was on vacation, but the theatre was empty. As a performer, I know how devastating it is when the house is not completely full, but to have so few people almost makes it not worth it. But the show must go on, despite how many are watching.

The show did not start off well. Technically, the show was minimalistic, and I did not feel as if that was a conscious choice. There was no set at all, with a simple black stage and scaffolding on which the cast climbed. The lights were random, sometimes leaving actors performing in shadow, or suggesting a big change when the scene was still continuing. The worst aspect of the production was the prerecorded music that was inappropriately played at the most random moments, then cutting out quickly and leaving the stage in silence. It was incredibly distracting and unnecessary. The technical aspects were disappointing, especially as someone who could not speak the language, and thus, relied on the visual.

Everything else about the production, however, was lovely. It was an incredibly experimental and stylized version of “Cyrano de Bergerac”, which made it very interesting to watch. The show calls for a cast of 15-20, with seven lead roles and lots of cameos. This production used six actors total. Other than the actor playing Cyrano, all of the performers played multiple roles, switching their costumes, wigs, and mannerisms to differentiate, sometimes within seconds. Even the single female actress, who primarily played Roxanne, would come onstage as a soldier or another small role, and take on the new character convincingly. I have absolutely no idea how they managed it or what the backstage area must have looked like, because the actors would completely change their costumes and wigs (which were stunningly beautiful) within moments, and come onstage with an entirely new personality. I was very impressed with the variety of characters presented, and I never had trouble figuring out who was who, even with the language barrier.

“Cyrano de Bergerac” is about an infamous swordsman, poet, and town hero who is renown for all of his great features, especially his giant nose. He is in love with his best friend Roxanne, but will not pursue her because he is convinced he is too ugly to be loved. She then falls for Christian, a handsome, but dim-witted soldier. Cyrano, only wanting happiness for Roxanne, writes letters to her from Christian and advises him what to say when speaking to her, thus, wooing Roxanne through another man. The acting was supremely over-the-top and exaggerated, which usually drives me nuts, but these actors were so dedicated to the style that it worked. Looking at it from a director’s standpoint, I think all of the minor characters work better when performed in an over-the-top fashion, but it is necessary to reign in Cyrano, Roxanne, and Christian so that there is a realness and an honesty to the story.

The actor who played Cyrano was brilliant. It is an incredibly challenging role, as a balance of confidence, vulnerability, and pride are necessary, in addition to a knack for sword-fighting and long winded speeches. This actor never went over-the-top and made Cyrano honest and likable, even in his more stubborn moments. The actor who played Christian did it well, though it is undoubtedly a boring role. He did prove, however, that it was the character and not the actor who was dull, as he came to life in his other cameo roles. Above all, he was beautiful, and that’s really all that Christian needs to be. Roxanne was hilarious and obviously a very versatile actor, but she did not reign in the exaggerated acting, even in the second half of the show, which gets much more serious. She had one aspect of the role down, but could use some work on the more sympathetic parts. The other three actors, who played the rest of the roles, proved the most hilarious and adaptable of all. I really enjoyed watching them morph from character to character!

This is now the second show I have watched in another language. I still cannot speak French, but “Cyrano” was an entirely different experience because of my background with it. I was amazed how much I remembered and thus, how much I followed. Even though I could not understand word for word, I was reminded of how beautiful the poetry is, brought back to a time where the language hit me so hard that I was brought to tears. I wish more than ten people had been in the audience, because this one resonated. The production was extremely entertaining, but I loved this night not as much because of this portrayal, but because of the play and the story itself. It is such a beautifully written piece, and it will always hold a place in my heart.

I still have another week or so of being a world traveler, but then I will settle down in London for awhile, at which point I will be such a familiar face in the West End that the actors will start to know me by name! But until then, I will explore theatre all over Europe, since I clearly do not know how to escape it. Au revior, mes amis!

Until the next curtain call,

Alex

Let’s Be “Blood Brothers”? Yeah, I’d Rather Not.

As a rule, I would not consider myself to be an indecisive person. I have no trouble picking a favorite movie, color, or flavor of ice cream. I can figure out what I want to order at a restaurant in just a few minutes. And I tend to formulate an opinion of someone within the first day or so I meet them. Because of this determination, if you will, I tend to be the one of my friends to make the plans when we go out. When everyone else will say, “Well, I don’t care, what do you want to do?” I’ll just tell them! I know exactly what I would like to do with my time, so if no one else has an opinion, I’ll pick something. I know what I want and I know what I like, and that has done pretty well for me thus far.

My decisiveness tends to continue when it comes to seeing theatre. I can always pinpoint areas that need improvement in shows I enjoy, or acknowledge glimmers of promise in shows of which I am not as fond, but for the most part I have a strong judgment of like or dislike. Since theatre is something I love so dearly, my opinion is usually positive, especially when it is a professional production. I love theatre, so when a play is performed in a seasoned way, I like it. I think West End Best End is a solid example of that, since I have generally enjoyed every production I’ve seen thus far.

Last week I saw the first production that I straight out disliked, and I was disappointed about feeling as such since it was one of the shows I was most excited to see. Back in high school, my school participated in a drama festival, at which I was introduced to many plays I’d never seen before. One of these was “Blood Brothers”. The story is heartbreakingly beautiful, and I really enjoyed this school’s production, as amateur as it was. So when I found out that it was actually a musical, and one playing in the West End no less, I was anxious to see it!

I do not regret going, because I always enjoy seeing shows I have never seen before, but I will never seek out a production again, nor am I particularly interested in ever auditioning for it myself. “Blood Brothers” is playing at the Phoenix Theater, where it has been for over twenty-one years. I am shocked it has stayed so long.

The show tackles the concept of nature v. nurture, as it follows two twin brothers, separated at birth. One, Mickey, is raised by his biological mother who struggles to get by and lives paycheck to paycheck. The other, Eddie, has been adopted by an extremely well-off couple and is given the best education and home life. The two meet first when they are seven and forge a connection that stays with them throughout the rest of their supremely tumultuous lives.

My biggest problem with the show is the music. The musical debuted in 1983 and had I not known that fact prior to attending, I could have easily guessed it. The show does not take place in the eighties, nor is it the eighties now, and yet the music is painfully, stereotypically eighties, complete with chimes, saxophone solos, and futuristic sound effects incorporated into the instrumentals. Every song was a power ballad, and it got old fast. It was also quite repetitive, which had me and my friends inventing drinking games rather than enjoy the music. The actors sang well, but the score is incredibly simple, so no one was particularly impressive. Maybe I’m expecting too much at this point, but there were no “wow” moments, which was disappointing. I tend to judge the music of shows I’m not familiar with by whether or not I’d want to sing any of the songs or play them on Standing Room Only, and I’m not interested in hearing any of these songs again.

The rest of my issues with the show were specifically with this production. Mickey and Eddie are supposed to be played by two young, twenty-something male actors who look like they could be related. They are challenging roles because the actors have to play the boys at age seven, fourteen, eighteen, and twenty-four, so it requires a good sense of character development. The actor who played Eddie was perfect for the role, and I quite enjoyed his performance. But the actor who played Mickey, if I had to guess, was about forty years old, which honestly made it a lot less believable. The two did not look like they could be brothers, the relationship between Mickey and the 20 year old actress playing opposite him was awkward, and when he was at the character’s oldest, he seemed like a middle aged man standing next to his teenage son, not a brother next to his twin. He was very talented, but his age and appearance were incredibly distancing for me.

Past that, I feel like I’m getting picky. The stage combat was laughable, with caresses instead of slaps, and obvious pauses while a character would turn and catch a punch or a weapon. The Narrator role, which is odd to begin with, was directed melodramatically, with him throwing set pieces into the wings and planting his feet in a ridiculous stance. And the final moment of the show, which is an epically tragic climax, was horribly choreographed. I was told by many friends that I would be sobbing at the end, but it was so unclear and unrealistic that I found myself wiping away tears from laughter instead of sadness. I left the show very disappointed.

Like I said before, I can always find positive elements even in the most unimpressive of shows. The main character, Mrs. Johnstone (the twins’ mother), was incredibly talented, and based on the show’s website, the actress wasn’t even initially meant to play the role. Vivienne Carlyle was very consistent and powerful throughout, though she looked younger than Mickey, even when he was playing a seven year old. The sets were beautiful, especially in the transition from a city scene to the country. Some characters, like Eddie and Linda (Mickey’s love interest) were aged very naturally, even though others lacked believability. And the cast was obviously invested; they believed in what they were presenting and acted with honesty, which I respect.

I think that the musical is incredibly dated. The story is stunning and, based on my experiences, I believe it would have much more success as a play, because the music is where it’s lacking. The rest of my critique comes strictly from this particular production. Maybe it’s from twenty years running in the same place, and it’s time to retire. Regardless, I do think there is promise of something good here, but it was not obvious this time around.

This would not be high on my list of recommendations, unless you are looking to party, in which case, take a sip every time they mention Marilyn Monroe.

Until the next curtain call, which I’m sure will be much more appreciated,
Alex

A Reflection: “I Love You Because” There Are Too Many Reasons to List

Admittedly, I’ve been a bit absent from the theatre scene. I have been slacking on my duties of reporting on the West End world, and for that, I apologize. But I did have a good reason! I was putting on a musical of my own. Now, I know it isn’t quite the West End, but it was an incredible experience, and a substantial part of my semester here, so I thought I would write a special West End Best End review and reflect upon my experience in “I Love You Because” at Queen Mary University in London.

“I Love You Because” is not a very well known musical; in fact, it was only off-Broadway for about a year. But because of my Standing Room Only experience, which has introduced me to a great deal of little, unknown gems, I was quite familiar with it before arriving. It’s billed as a modern retelling of Pride and Prejudice, but I don’t think that’s an accurate description at all. What it’s really about is four crazy, obnoxious, lovable characters trying to find love in New York City. And it’s one of the funniest shows I’ve ever been in.

I found out about auditions the day of, which was great because it didn’t give me any time to get nervous. Instead, I prepared one of the songs from the show (I admit it, I cheated and used my radio experience to my advantage), and jumped right in. Based on auditions, I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to get the part. I left fairly uncertain, thinking I was at a disadvantage being brand new to the theatre company, going against actors who had already made a name for themselves at the school. But a few days later I was notified that I had received a callback, and happily made my way to the gathering of 25 or so people, all competing for the same six roles.

Again, I was afraid of how my new girl status would affect my chances, as well as the fact that I was the only American in the room, but overall I felt much more confident than at auditions. I was asked to sing “Even Though”, a song I knew well and loved performing, so I was pleased. After hours of reading the same scenes over and over again, listening to everyone belt out the same few songs, and answering the same “how do I say it in American?” questions, I was told right then and there that the directors wanted me to be their Marcy! I was absolutely shocked and thrilled, until they made me stay another hour late into the night to keep reading with everyone else.

The rehearsal process was amazing. I immediately fell in love with the part, the show, and the cast. The six of us really clicked, and I believe we produced a truly magnificent show. I played Marcy, a flighty, fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants, never-orders-the-same-thing-twice, optimistic photographer, who sets out to find Mr. Wrong so that he can set her up to meet the man of her dreams. Then she meets Austin, a stuffed-shirt, pencil-pushing, rule-following, rigid-yet-romantic greeting card writer looking to get over his ex-girlfriend, and they immediately butt heads. But through the bickering, they begin to question the legitimacy of the concept of “Mr. (or Ms.) Right”.

Marcy was one of the most enjoyable parts I’ve ever played. She was silly and funny, and sang hilarious duets and heartbreaking ballads. “Just Not Now”, a quiet, emotional piece about not being ready for love, is my favorite song that I have ever performed. I loved playing this character, and have since actually adopted some of her mannerisms, and definitely her clothing choices. Sam Whyte played Austin, and I came to realize that a more perfect casting has never been made. Sam had the sarcastic humor paired with the likability necessary so that he appealed to anyone and everyone in the audience. But it was really his voice that made him stand out. Austin is one of the most vocally demanding roles I’ve ever encountered, and Sam sang the multiple show-stopping tracks like they were no trouble at all. “Goodbye”, a song that I never really listened to on the soundtrack, would send goosebumps down my arms anytime Sam sang it. He was a wonderful leading man.

Marcy and Austin are balanced by Marcy’s rule-following, all-knowing, yet adventurous best friend Diana and by Austin’s lady-loving, pick-up-line-spouting, snuggly brother Jeff, the two of whom get into some trouble of their own when they realize that the friends with benefits concept isn’t always the most logical. Diana was played by Izzi Richardson, who was lovely and professional, hilarious and subtle. She has the one “patter song” of the show, and performed it effortlessly, in an accent that wasn’t her own, no less. She’s also my best friend, so that relationship was easy to recreate! Mike Pickering played Jeff and was able to mold this slimy player of a character into the most adorable and lovable of the show, while stealing almost every laugh. The two were hilarious in the song “We’re Just Friends” (as they belted harmonies whilst throwing their clothes around the stage), and heartbreakingly beautiful in “Marcy’s Yours”. This was some good casting.

Finally, Rachel Lennie and Conor Carroll played NYC Woman and Man, who acted as every other character in the show. Although some of the parts were quite small, Rachel and Conor undeniably stole the show. The two were brilliantly hilarious, and their characters were so incredibly distinct. If I had been in the audience, I don’t think I would have watched anybody else!

I think the six of us really worked well together, especially in instances where we were all singing at the same time. “But I Do”, with haunting four part harmonies, was by far the highlight of the show, leaving much of the audience (and myself!) in tears. And the final song of the show, which shares the musical’s title, was incredibly heartfelt, albeit a bit cheesy. I think our music director, Caitlin Foley, deserves a shout out, because she melded us into harmonic brilliance. We worked hard to get there, but the show’s strength definitely came by way of the music, and she is entitled to as much, if not more, credit than those of us singing. This girl knows what she’s doing, and I owe a lot to her.

The show was directed by Rob Jopson, Maggie Schroeder, and Ben Hudson, and I have so much gratitude towards all of them. We worked so hard on this production: trying out things that worked and didn’t work, doing exercises to define characters, exploring different motives. And I believe it was an excellent show because of the work we did. I don’t think anyone would argue that we all put our hearts and souls into this production.

I didn’t see the show, and I obviously had a lot more invested in it than any audience member, so I cannot objectively comment on the final product. I don’t know how it came across to someone who had never seen it before. But I am so incredibly proud of what we produced, and I personally think it was impressive, funny, and memorable. I’m so grateful for this experience, and I learned a lot from it. I’m disappointed it’s over, because I really connected to the role and to the cast, but I’m so happy I had an opportunity to perform while in the UK, and to leave my own little mark on the London theatre scene.

And now I’m off to see more shows, I promise!

Until the next curtain call,

Alex

Familiar Faces in “All New People”

I have never been particularly starstruck. When I went to Los Angeles for the first time this summer, I jokingly scoured the streets for familiar faces (and found Nathan Fillion, score!), but I never obsessed over celebrities as a kid or lined my bedroom wall with posters of boy bands. Maybe it’s because I’m a performer myself, but I’ve generally seen actors as people who are artists, rather than otherworldly creatures. However, the few chances I’ve had to get up close and personal with famous folk have proven that I, like everyone else, become a huge dork when socializing with the stars.

Previously, the closest I’ve gotten to interacting with celebrities was through my radio show, Standing Room Only. Since becoming the host last year, I have had a few opportunities to interview fairly big Broadway names. My first was a phone interview with Liz Callaway, of “Baby” and “Miss Saigon”, for which I had about fifteen minutes to prepare. She was incredibly kind and patient, though I was so nervous that the twenty minute interview lasted about ten. My second was with Gavin Creel, who is currently a big name on Broadway, having received Tony nominations for both “Thoroughly Modern Millie” and the revival of “Hair”. He was so wonderfully down to earth, and when I later went to see his show in Boston, he recognized me and gave me a hug, which meant I was in the clouds for days.And finally, the interaction of which I am the most proud was with the incredible Joanna Gleason, most known for her Tony award winning performance in “Into the Woods”. I played the same role as she did when I was in high school, and thus, my jaw was on the floor from the moment she walked in the room. She was incredibly impressive and professional, though she did have a few diva moments, as I assume most Tony winners do. It was absolutely an honor to meet her.

I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunities Standing Room Only has given me, because these performers have made their way down a road which I want to go. After my initial disbelief at their presence, I was able to see that they are real people who have worked inconceivably hard to get where they are. It revived my desire for success.

This week, I had another encounter with someone whom I never thought I’d get a chance to meet. I met Zach Braff, the amazing actor most known for Scrubs and Garden State. I have seen all episodes of Scrubs, and loved every moment, so when I found out that Braff had written a play that was debuting in London, I bought tickets as soon as they went on sale. And, man, am I glad I did.

“All New People” is about a man (played by Braff) who has hit rock bottom. But right before he is about to kill himself, he meets three absolutely ridiculous individuals who try to change his mind. The show is hilarious and witty and intelligent, leaving me very impressed by Braff’s writing ability. He wrote himself into the straight man role, so it was really the other three characters that shone. Eve Myles (known for her work on BBC’s “Torchwood” and “Dr. Who”) played an eccentric British real estate agent, desperate to make a sale and get a green card. In my opinion, Myles was the most dynamic of the actors, delivering both laugh out loud lines and monologues that glued you to your seat. She was adorable and energetic. Paul Hilton played a druggie fireman who had some of the raunchiest lines and was fairly unlikeable. Despite the roughness of his character, I do think he won over the hearts of the audience in the end. And finally, Susannah Fielding played a ditzy escort, hired to cheer up Braff’s character, and she delivered her dumb blonde lines with humor and sincerity. Against Braff’s serious, heartbreaking character (who did deliver a moment of wit here and there), the three really came to life. It was truly an all-star cast, with no weak link to be found.

The show was directed by Peter DuBois, who also directed the production of “Sons of the Prophet” that brought Joanna Gleason to my radio show. Having seen a production of his before, I wasn’t surprised by how fluid it was. DuBois obviously knows to balance intense moments with subtle ones, how to channel characters’ reactions so that each has their own style of humor. He has a unique way of directing, but one that is extremely effective, especially in its timing, both comedic and moving.

The set was incredible, particularly in its detail. The show takes place entirely in a Long Island beach house in the dead of winter. The room was beautiful and realistic, and every detail was considered: there were board games on the shelves, discarded cigarettes in the ash tray, half full cartons of food in the refrigerator, which was only opened once or twice. The sky outside the windows changed as the day stretched on, and realistic snow fell outside onto what appeared to be a deck complete with a jacuzzi. At one point, a character creates a hole in the ceiling, and it appeared so realistic, with insulation dust falling and everything, that I questioned whether something had gone wrong. It was stunning.

My one critique is that the show is incredibly foul. The play is obviously directed at a younger crowd, with lots of current, youthful references throughout, and constant mentioning of drugs and sex. I went with a friend, so I wasn’t turned off by the language; however, I would have been extremely self-conscious had I attended with my father or grandmother or younger sister. But even with the language, the writing was incredibly hilarious, and I found myself laughing aloud quite often.

After the show, I booked it to the stage door, where Zach Braff greeted his audience. I was surprised by how kind he was, taking time with each fan, allowing pictures to be taken, stories to be told, posters to be shoved in his face, ready to be signed. I was thrilled and nervous to meet him, and of course was a complete dork when I finally did, delivering some silly comment about taking him out for drinks later. He laughed in response, but I haven’t given up hope yet.

I won’t lie; I bought tickets primarily so that I’d have the chance to meet Zach Braff. However, I’m really glad I did because of the quality of the show. It was funny and engaging, and the cast was so incredibly talented. Though meeting my future husband wasn’t so bad either. I definitely recommend going, and when you do, tell Zach I say hi.

Until the next curtain call,

Alex

“Qui Est Monsieur Schmitt?” Où suis-je? Que disent-ils?

I deviated, and I saw a show that wasn’t in the West End. I almost feel like I cheated! But part of the study abroad experience is travel, and the thespian in me could not resist an opportunity to see a show while in another country. So this is a special edition of West End Best End, since the play I will be reviewing was actually in Brussels.

Apparently, UK school systems feel that the month long Easter holiday is not nearly enough time for vacation, so in the middle of February we are given a week without classes. Last minute, I decided to embark on a journey to Brussels, Belgium, allured by the prospect of waffles, chocolates, and sprouts. My friend Kelley and I, severely underprepared, made our way to the European Union capital, where we instantly got lost among the winding, multi-named streets. This was a trip of firsts for me: first time staying in a hostel (overall fairly nice, though we cursed the early wake-up calls), first time in a part of Europe that wasn’t the UK, and first time in a country where English was incredibly sparse.

Kelley and I realized upon arrival that English was not among the most commonly spoken languages in this country, and that we would have to rely heavily on my high school level French. Luckily, I knew the words that mattered: “le chocolat”, “du vin”, and “le théâtre”. Overall, we had a nice time exploring the city, admiring the beautiful palace-like buildings, browsing chocolate shop upon chocolate shop, meeting French friends (who laughed at my accent), and exploring various museums (favorites were the Magritte Museum and the Chocolate Museum). That being said, we chose a fairly uneventful time to visit the city, and thus had more spare time than we were anticipating.

Then we stumbled upon a theatre that was promoting their comedy “Qui Est Monsieur Schmitt?” (or for you non-Partisans, “Who Is Mister Schmitt?”). In spite of our paltry French, we decided to broaden our horizons and buy tickets, to the astonishment of the French speaking woman in the box office with whom we struggled to make conversation.  I am very pleased we made the decision to go, because it was a very professional and impressive production and there wasn’t much else going on, though I do think it would have made much greater an impression had I been able to speak the language.

“Qui Est Monsieur Schmitt?” begins with a couple at the dinner table who are interrupted by a phone ringing. This is particularly puzzling, since they do not have phone service. The person calling is looking for a Mr. Schmitt, and the man politely informs the caller that he has the wrong number. From there, things get progressively stranger as the couple realizes the paintings on the wall are different, the clothing in their closets are different, and they cannot get out of the apartment. They are visited by a variety of people (including a policeman and therapist), all of whom are convinced they are Mr. and Mrs. Schmitt. For the entire piece, the couple struggles with identity and tries to figure out who they really are.

I imagine that the show was hilarious. Much of the comedy was physical, which I appreciated, but there was also a great amount of wit. I could tell that jokes were being made throughout, both by the actors’ inflection and the audience’s reaction, but unfortunately couldn’t follow everything. Without being able to understand what was going on, it got fairly repetitive. The policeman and the doctor each came back two or three times, but I couldn’t tell how their visits differed. I tried my best to understand what they were saying, but could really only catch phrases. I missed most of the comedy, but I still found myself laughing aloud at a few of the more physical moments.

The director, Bernard Cognaux, made a good amount of physical choices which, as someone who couldn’t understand what the actors were saying, I appreciated all the more. For example, the play opened with the couple eating dinner, and no one spoke for a solid 5-10 minutes. Instead, the audience watched them eat and nonverbally interact. At one moment, “Mr. Schmitt” reached out his hand and hovered it over a space on the table until his wife realized she hadn’t brought out the bread basket and ran to get it from the kitchen. I thought it was a brilliant way to introduce his character and to illustrate the kind of relationship the two had. The play closed in a very similar manner, which I found to be very effective.

The part that was most entertaining for me was the set. It was technically brilliant, but in so subtle a way that many people missed it. The show was set in the couple’s apartment, with a large bookshelf, a couch, and paintings on the walls. Throughout the show, as the couple became convinced they were these other people, the set moved; however, it moved inch by inch so that the movement was completely unnoticeable. But by the end, when (SPOILER ALERT) they had adopted the roles of Mr. and Mrs. Schmitt, the entire set was a few feet to the left so that it looked like an entirely different room. The subtlety was genius. Once or twice in the midst of the show, I thought the set was changing, but convinced myself I was seeing things, until Kelley noticed it too. The apartment changed along with the mindsets of the characters.

I had a really nice time exploring Brussels, experiencing another European city, though admittedly, I’m glad to be back in a country where people understand what I’m saying. “Qui Est Monsieur Schmitt” was a wonderful show, I think. I would love to see it again, but this time in English. It looked like it was great, but I missed too much to get the full experience.

That all being said, if you speak French, you might want to seek it out. As for me, I’m ready to venture back into the West End, where I can appreciate more than just the set.

Until the next curtain call,

Alex