Some Theatre

Made it through another week of pseudochefing and in the middle of it wrote a story about a new theatre company called Alchemy. They asked me along to their opening night performance of Some Voices. Not often a new independent theatre opens up in Sydney. It's a cool little space and I hope it does well.

The play was about schizophrenia, and it was exactly the kind of theatre I like. Convincing performances, laugh out loud moments, and really thought provoking.

It was a small crowd consisting mainly of industry people and friends. I think they like to keep the opening night performance a little low key to ease cast and crew into it, iron out wrinkles etc.

Anyway, I offered to review the play as well as just come along to check the place out, and I'm still a bit of a noob at this sort of thing (meaning that I've done plenty but a part of me will always be a little surprised that I am doing it). Especially when I see others in the audience who pull out a notepad and pen. I don't do that. I've always just trusted my memory and gut reaction to the performance. Later I'll look at the program to confirm details, but really, taking notes? Don't you risk missing something? Some people get really obvious about it too. They make a minor production out of settling into their seat with their critic's notepad and pen poised in a very theatre critic way. They may as well wear a T shirt telling us they are a theatre critic.

One such guy was sitting beside me and I swear I've bever seen someone scribble with such intensity. He spent as much time writing as he did watching, and it was starting to really bug me. At intermission I asked The Dreaded One if she had noticed him and she said no, so when we filed back inside I said, "Pssst. Dreaded One, look at him now. Don't be obvious, I'm just going to lean back a little, you lean forward a little and have a look."

We pulled of this little manouvre like the pros we are.

"He's writing in his notebook now," The Dreaded One told me.

"I know," I whispered back.

"But nothing is happening yet. The second act hasn't even started."

"I know. He's a freak."

It really started to bother me to the extent that I was very tempted to lean over and say "Do you mind?" in an intimidating manner, or at least get up and move in an intimidating manner, but the play's power won out and pulled me right back in there. Very good writing by Joe Penhall. Want to check out more of his stuff.

After the play we milled around in the bar area and discussed the play, and the Alchemy person I'd interviewed came across to chat and ask what I thought etc (I swear I have out of body moments when this kind of thing happens, like this is just me and she's performed all over the world and has started up a new theatre company and she's asking for my opinion and listening as though it's important), and who should wander over but uberfreaky review guy. I do something with my eyes to indicate to The Dreaded One that THAT'S HIM! IT'S HIM! HE'S THE GUY! And then the Alchemy person introduces him to me as the play's director. We shake hands and swap pleasantries and he seems like a really down to earth and nice guy, not the least bit freaky.

"It makes sense now," I told the guy. "You were sitting next to me taking all these notes, and I was wondering what the hell kind of weirdo reviewer takes sooo many notes. I take back everything I thought about you."

Man did he tip his head back and enjoy a belly laugh. I think I accidentally made a good impression and left them thinking that I have a clue. Little do they know, I'm just me, rebel without a clue.