Nov. 21st, 2015

riontel: (safari)
The universe evidently decided that leaving me in London with no glasses at the most inopportune moment was wrong. I was amply compensated today. Not only did I have my glasses but I was also occupying the best seat in the house, right in the front row, when Alex Hurt dropped his pants during Dada Woof Papa Hot.
The stage in Lincoln Center Theater is designed in such a way that I quite literally ended up with some usually private male parts staring me right in the face. I was impressed, which is more than can be said about the dude on my left, who was clearly dragged to the theater by his wife. He might have been jealous, Alex Hurt certainly has nothing to be ashamed of.

The play itself, though ridiculously named, was very good, hitting the funny and serious notes just right, thanks to a very good writing job by Peter Parnell. I would have expected the acting to be a bit smoother and less over the top by this point in the production. It seemed like some of the actors were trying to project up to the gallery, which LCT doesn't have. It got better as it went on, so maybe they just needed to warm up. Despite that little nitpick, I really recommend the play with its unusual take on the universally compelling topic of marriage and kids.

Small tip: the play goes for an hour and forty minutes with no intermissions, drinking a full cup of tea right before is NOT a good idea.

I also saw Hand to God recently. It's finishing its run on Broadway and moving to London and I say good riddance. The only thing I liked about it was Sarah Stiles's performance and her character Jessica. Everything else was ridiculous, moralizing, and, above all else, boring, which is a cardinal sin.


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