I’ve had a really long two weeks at work. Last night, I had finally gotten out from under, and was truly exhausted. But last night my roommate’s play was opening, so, instead of heading home for a long rest, I set off into the bowels of the city to the off-off-off Broadway premiere of [play name deleted].
Oh, my fucking god - you call that a play?!! A meaningless plot, puerile writing, absurdism for absurdism’s sake. I mean, it was utter shit. There was not one thing I enjoyed about my utterly wasted two hours - and, given the skimpy outfits the actresses wore, that’s saying a lot.
Next time, I’ll go home and fall asleep watching a show featuring a talking cat. Compared to the crap that unspewed before my eyes last night, a talking cat makes sense.
I think I’ve seen that play. Was it about a doctor? Did this really annoying “wacky and crazy as hell” shit that was painfully preditable keep happening? Did Sigmund Freud pop up out of nowhere? If so, I found it just as terrible and annoying as you did.
Last play I let a friend rope me into seeing was a “reinterpretation” of A Christmas Carole. It was called (and this should have been my first warning) It’s Christmas, Carol! Urgh. One of the leading actors apparently thought he was doing traditional Greek tragedy, because before any of his lines, he would turn to face the audience, take two steps forward, and gesticulate comically while droning on about God knows what. The sole enjoyment I had during that performance was from a stick of gum I found in my pocket. Goes to show that you don’t get anymore off-broadway than Humboldt County, California.
