So, if sold out shows mean amazing performances and empty shows mean shitty ones, what does it mean when a show only has a mediocre attendance? Should I take it that it's only a mediocre show? Should I assume that people were busy on that particular day at that particular time and weren't able to come?
Take Dream, Brother for example. It was being performed in a small venue, the same venue as Paperboy in fact (and I learned my lesson this time and drove around rather than parking at the top of VG) and there was a fair number of people waiting outside to file into the room. Not enough to fill the venue completely, but enough to reassure us that the play wouldn't be an utter disaster.
So how was the play? Was it mediocre? Brilliant, but under-appreciated? Terrible, but well advertised? Apparently that would depend on the person that you spoke to.
I find it amazing how different people have different views on plays. As Natasha and I walked to the car after the play was over, I overheard the woman in front of us complaining to her husband.
“Absolutely awful,” she announced. “There were so many loose ends. What the hell was happening? Just terrible.” I practically glared after her and fumed as I made my way to the car. Once the doors were shut and no one else could hear me, I vented about what I had overheard.
Natasha and I completely agreed – Dream, Brother was certainly not the best play that we had seen at Fest, but it was also far from the worst. It was done on budget and you could tell – from the small venue to the simplistic props. That isn't to say that shows that are done on budget can't be good – look at London Road! But they'd had a number of runs before Fest and at Fest itself over the years, and had grown to the point where they could sell out a big theatre. Dream, Brother was not yet at the point where they could sell out a small one.
The idea behind the play is a complex one. It looks at two relationships – one between a young man and woman that is acted out from their first date to their marriage and beyond; the other explained to the audience by a man, seen on the sidelines of the first relationship and an integral character in himself. As the relationships start coming together in a single story, as the man explaining his story starts popping up in more important roles in the other couple's life, the dynamic of the play changes completely. By the end of the play, the couple and the man's stories have been so delicately interwoven, that it is impossible to separate the two relationships.
I can see how the woman left the play feeling that there were loose ends. However, I appreciated the loose ends that were left – I liked that not everything fit neatly into a little box that could be packed away in the mind. I found that Dream, Brother left me questioning life, questioning relationships and questioning reality. I thought that it was a beautiful representation of madness, and I think that it is one of the plays that I would see again if I could.
But then again... that's just my opinion.
No comments:
Post a Comment