That Makes Two

Last night Suzanne and I walked out of our second play in London. In 2.5 years and probably more than 50 plays, we've previously only left "Whistle Down the Wind" (Andrew Llloyd Webber = nightmare). The thing is, it wasn't that it was THAT BAD of a play (never mind the extreme overacting. I mean seriously, you don't need to yell every line. There is something to be said for subtle delivery people) but we really weren't into it. And the saddest part is that it had such a promising title:

Rockn'Roll by Tom Stoppard.

The whole thing was these very short, intense scenes that were heavy on dialogue about communism, socialism, facism, all set against a backdrop of Czechoslovakia and England from 1969 -1990s. (We only made it to the 70s though since we left at intermission). As I was still figuring out whether the scene was taking place in Cambridge or Prague the scene was running away from me and then over. Were the short intense scenes a metaphor for Rock n' Roll I wondered? Just like those 2 minutes of song that say so much? Maybe.

But it was a bit much for a Wednesday night.

The great thing about going to a show with Suz is that at intermission, as I am preparing to start dropping hints that I am not that thrilled but willing to stay if she is having a great time, she looks at me and plainly says, "It's not that great." When we asked how long the second half was (after an hour and 15 minutes for the first half) we were told it was ANOTHER 1.5 hours. The look of horror in Suz's eyes meant I was free to say, "Let's get out of here."I was also reassured by some other theater-goers putting on their coats to not come back.

So that makes two and means I have one more bad theatre experience left to go.