Aussiehalley - Halley Down Under

But I didn't throw a shoe this time

15 big ones, people. Count 'em. 15.

That's 15 shows I've seen in the past approx two weeks through the Fringe Festival. And as anyone who really knows theatre will tell you, it's all about quantity. I mean, I had to take off a few days in there, too, because of Rosh Hashana. (So technically, if we're going by ticketed events, my count goes up to 17, but lets not push that one.) This was some hardcore festival-ing. You needs training for this sort of thing. Luckily, all those years of sitting on my ass, watching television prepared me well for sitting on my ass, watching a stage.

(Attention: Bitch and Moan fest? party of one? your table is ready.)
And through it all, I only had to walk out of one show. It takes a lot for me to walk out of a show. I won't leave if it's only bad. It has to be bad and really offensive. What's neat about a fringe fesival is that they often have some fun, interesting, experimental programs. What you come to expect with that is that you'll see some great stuff, but you'll also see some crap. And there were a few. Crap. Oh the crap I saw. We're talking silently screaming inside my head, "Make it stop! Make it stop! Oh gawd! You guys are awful! For the love of all that is good and holy in the world, stop!" In my head, of course. And I stayed through to the end, because I don't want to be rude. They're not trying to be so bad that I would rather be in the center of a Bush Appreciation Society Toga And Rum Dinner.

The one I left started a half hour late. Just for fun. Then, instead of starting the play, they had a little talent show with a few friends of the production. No problem if the people are entertaining. Or talened. But these, not so much with the singing. And one woman aparently only knew Andrew Lloyd Webber songs. And how to sing them badly. (And wore a stupid shirt, and wouldn't stop pacing, but whatever.) So, fine. I can suffer through. I can tell myself little stories in my head. I can count the number of open bean bag chairs on the floor. I can try to figure out why they wear little white sweater vests in cricket. When the show starts, I begin to wish for the Starlight Express songs to come back. It wasn't just offensive once or twice on the same topic. They managed to be awful on a wide variety of things, thinking they were being funny. No one was laughing.

What sent me over the edge was when they tried to start rhyming in a (scripted) song. And couldn't do it. They tried. It just didn't work. But, like troopers, they kept pushing it. Like trying to stick a bear in a tube top. Not pleasant. I know, one might think that issue would fall under "bad" and not "offensive" - but you must remember that as an English major, I'm allowed to get offended by willful negligence in language use. It's a service we provide, free of charge, to the population. You're welcome.

posted by Halley @ 11:29 PM