Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Monday, April 04, 2005

Jesus Christ!

The moment the Pope died, the Wife and I were enjoying a white wine spritzer during the interval of an Am Dram version of Jesus Christ Superstar. Rather aptly.

Well, it was very modern. Very forward thinking, all polo-necks and shouting; I think they were one step away from calling him 'Pontius Pilates'. And I'm not sure of the use of shopping trollies on stage... I kept thinking 'would Dame Olivier approve?' But it was nice to see Sainsbury's getting a credit in the laser-printed brochure.

But the highlight of the performance for me was when some woman got told off very loudly for using a flash camera to snap at their child mid-song, and then they spent the rest of the performance sheepishly looking around at other people in the audience who were then going 'Look! That's 'er who used the flash camera!' Of which there were two: myself of course, and a rather lovely woman in a caftan across the way. Oh, how I envied Caftan Woman - she was almost within touching distance of the dancers.

Although she was only partly lucky in this respect as there was only one of the dancers I'd have given the time of night to, and you know how 'picky' I am. I think this, not sets or production values, highlights that ultimate difference between am-dram and proper productions. Here, in the whizzy West End, you're spoiled for choice for limber boy-totty. It's a veritable smorgasbord of talent. Down in the conservative wilds of middle England, I was left with one gentleman to whom I kept thinking 'Yeah, put your leg above your head again and I may drop my hankie at you at the after-show party'.

Ah, yes. The after-show party. It turns out that what am-dram actors like only second best to performing is getting together and talking through their own performance, scene by scene in minute detail. "Oh, there was one terrible moment when I went on stage in my leper's costume and I still had lipstick on!" shrilled one member of the ensemble. I nodded along like a bladder on a stick, thinking how it was obviously the complete downfall of civilisation as she clearly did.

"But then - then inspiration hit me!" she added. "I ended up just curling my lips around my teeth, like a desiccated corpse! I thought that would be particularly leper-like..."

She got nods and a round of applause for that. In all truth, we couldn't even see her face, let alone her rather tarty lipstick.

Hilariously, the whole thing did have the air of a Doctor Who convention, were people obsessed over the most minute detail with like-minded people attired in a similar way. And in a complete parallel, while all this going on, I missed the otheram-dram goings and doings of actual Doctor Who on Saturday night. Although, as the Wife cheerfully pointed out, "Never mind, it's not the end of the world or anything, is it?"

He got a slap for that.

But, you know, I'm still humming the songs from the show, though. Grr.


CyberPete said...

Yeah now that he died, you recon we can sign up for Popestars?

rohin said...

ran across your blog through another site. it is utterly fabulous! i HEART it immensely. and the gorgeous hunks on the sidebar are a PLUS.

hope to become a regular reader of your curious words.

JohnXIV said...

Lord Lloyd-Webber has a unique talent for writing tunes that lodge themselves in your head . . . it's like he has a gun that shoots medicrity instead of bullets.