Yesterday I had a Shakespeare Festival Hangover. Man, I was miserable. Head aching, bones creaking, sleep the only cure...
It all started when the Texas Shakespeare Festival season rolled around, and my mom and I, bless our hearts, just have an addiction that can't be stopped. We've gone enough years now that we actually get confused remembering which time we saw what; P thinks (and I agree) that we should get an honorary guild membership for our dedication; unfortunately, it doesn't quite work that way.
Although we'd originally planned to see only one show this weekend, a minor reaction from my dad was all it took to add another. Lest you be confused about the nature of the reaction, allow me to explain. Mom and I had already decided to see the evening performance of Much Ado About Nothing, which, thanks to K. Branagh and E. Thompson, is one of our favorite plays. But when Mom mentioned the fact to Dad, accompanied by the off-hand remark that the matinee performance was Man of La Mancha, and we weren't so interested in that one. . . well, then came the, "Aw, really? I'd like to see Man of La Mancha!" (paraphrased - that sounds way to Leave-It-to-Beaver to be what my dad really said. . .) Anyway, that's the point at which Mom decided, Two plays it is! And when she told me about it, I was quick to agree.
Come to find out, Man of La Mancha was really the better of the two. It's not that the TSF's Much Ado was bad, so to speak - just that we're used to it one way, and somehow it loses its charm otherwise. The truth is, Much Ado really isn't a great play - sorry Will - and there aren't many ways to make up for its misogynistic tendencies, and, well, how do you add meaning to a plot made out of nothing? Of course, we all know that Kenneth and Emma figured a way around that, and if you haven't been pricked to see their Much Ado yet, let this be the pin. But I should say that TSF did as good a job as might be hoped. . . yet I can't help but add that if I had directed it, I think I'd have left off with the serious romance and really punctuated the slapstick. It's no coincidence that Dogberry (Mr. Malaprop himself) stole the show - when Shakespeare isn't doing life crises, he's making incredibly funny comedy. But I guess it's hard to pick up on that, sometimes (and goodness knows that the traditional Kilgore audiences really wouldn't approve of half his humor).
So back to La Mancha. This is a show that needs to be seen in a small theatre. I've seen it in the biggest auditorium in Arkansas, and that was no good at all. But this performance was something else altogether. I went in wondering why this play continued to receive so much attention (the only thing I remembered from the first time I saw it was that it was just plain boring - oh, and that a friend of mine played a horse), but by intermission, I couldn't believe that I'd forgotten so much about it. It's funny and chock-full of songs with great lyrics ("But...I LIKE him..." and "To each his Dulcinea"), and best of all, the theme is really worth hearing. And the TSF did an excellent job of communicating that idea about believing in the Impossible Dream, even in the face of death. I get tear-y just thinking about it.
But then again, I shouldn't be surprised. After all, this is what addictions are made of - truly satisfying stuff. And as far as I'm concerned, the TSF is worth the habit. No wonder they're going to the Olympics.
It all started when the Texas Shakespeare Festival season rolled around, and my mom and I, bless our hearts, just have an addiction that can't be stopped. We've gone enough years now that we actually get confused remembering which time we saw what; P thinks (and I agree) that we should get an honorary guild membership for our dedication; unfortunately, it doesn't quite work that way.
Although we'd originally planned to see only one show this weekend, a minor reaction from my dad was all it took to add another. Lest you be confused about the nature of the reaction, allow me to explain. Mom and I had already decided to see the evening performance of Much Ado About Nothing, which, thanks to K. Branagh and E. Thompson, is one of our favorite plays. But when Mom mentioned the fact to Dad, accompanied by the off-hand remark that the matinee performance was Man of La Mancha, and we weren't so interested in that one. . . well, then came the, "Aw, really? I'd like to see Man of La Mancha!" (paraphrased - that sounds way to Leave-It-to-Beaver to be what my dad really said. . .) Anyway, that's the point at which Mom decided, Two plays it is! And when she told me about it, I was quick to agree.
Come to find out, Man of La Mancha was really the better of the two. It's not that the TSF's Much Ado was bad, so to speak - just that we're used to it one way, and somehow it loses its charm otherwise. The truth is, Much Ado really isn't a great play - sorry Will - and there aren't many ways to make up for its misogynistic tendencies, and, well, how do you add meaning to a plot made out of nothing? Of course, we all know that Kenneth and Emma figured a way around that, and if you haven't been pricked to see their Much Ado yet, let this be the pin. But I should say that TSF did as good a job as might be hoped. . . yet I can't help but add that if I had directed it, I think I'd have left off with the serious romance and really punctuated the slapstick. It's no coincidence that Dogberry (Mr. Malaprop himself) stole the show - when Shakespeare isn't doing life crises, he's making incredibly funny comedy. But I guess it's hard to pick up on that, sometimes (and goodness knows that the traditional Kilgore audiences really wouldn't approve of half his humor).
So back to La Mancha. This is a show that needs to be seen in a small theatre. I've seen it in the biggest auditorium in Arkansas, and that was no good at all. But this performance was something else altogether. I went in wondering why this play continued to receive so much attention (the only thing I remembered from the first time I saw it was that it was just plain boring - oh, and that a friend of mine played a horse), but by intermission, I couldn't believe that I'd forgotten so much about it. It's funny and chock-full of songs with great lyrics ("But...I LIKE him..." and "To each his Dulcinea"), and best of all, the theme is really worth hearing. And the TSF did an excellent job of communicating that idea about believing in the Impossible Dream, even in the face of death. I get tear-y just thinking about it.
But then again, I shouldn't be surprised. After all, this is what addictions are made of - truly satisfying stuff. And as far as I'm concerned, the TSF is worth the habit. No wonder they're going to the Olympics.
Good to know that La Mancha doesn't HAVE to be boring. I was right there with you for the one in AR....
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