h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

"MrFlay's written a play," I said to Gothly. "Ya wanna go and see it?"

"What's it about?" asked Gothly suspiciously.

"It's a modern-day adaptation of Dickens's novel 'Hard Times'."


"Oh," yawned Gothly. "Literature. Dull as ditchwater, then."

"You shouldn't jump to conclusions," I said.

"Well, okay. What's the book like? Is it dull?"

" ...*MrFlay* wrote the play. You *like* MrFlay."

And so it was that I dragged an extremely reluctant Gothly along to see a literary play.

Once there, the first thing I wanted to do was to get a programme. I approached an intimidating group of theatre people, all of whom were eyeing us hungrily, and was immediately pounced on by an elderly woman in a cardigan. "Do you want to buy ten raffle-tickets!" she demanded. "What's your name! What's your phone number!"

She brandished her pen over the stubs as I hurriedly scanned the table behind her for programmes. I couldn't see any. There were too many people in the way. Gothly took up a defensive position behind me and avoided everyone's eye.

"Er, I don't think I *will* have a raffle ticket, thank you," I muttered, backing up the stairs towards the lounge and tripping over Gothly's feet. The woman looked me up and down in open astonishment and disgust. It was a relief to reach the lounge, a haven of soft lighting and softer chairs. We hid up there until the play was about to start, then hurried past the gauntlet of theatre people to our seats.

I had examined the seating arrangement on the internet beforehand, and reserved the best seats, much to the disgruntlement of the people around us. During the play, I watched Gothly out of the corner of my eye, and was pleased to see broad smiles during the funny bits, and expressions of absorbtion and interest throughout the rest. MrFlay had excelled himself in bringing to life a novel which really is as dull as ditchwater.

The actors quickly warmed to their parts. "Are you enjoying it?" I whispered.

"Yeah," replied Gothly: "plenty of eye candy!"

As the play went on, it got increasingly difficult not to treat the action in front of us as though it were real. Every so often, one of the actors would make a rousing speech to the sound of recorded applause, and there'd be a general shifting about among the audience as we all fought the urge to join the clapping and shout, "yeah!" and "Boo!" and "hear, hear!"

One of the actors played a foppish cad called Harthouse, who took a fancy to 'Mrs Bounderby'. When he finally embraced Mrs Bounderby, the woman next to me gasped out loud, and a man near the front actually told the actor off: "she's *married*!" he cried. Luckily, Harthouse showed no sign of having heard.

During the dramatic pause that followed Mrs Bounderby's telling her father about Harthouse, Gothly excitedly inhaled a Malteser and had a furious coughing fit. This set off the whole audience, who appeared not to have realised that they were allowed to cough, and now that they did realise, they were going to make the most of it. I thumped Gothly hard on the back, partly to dislodge the Malteser, and partly out of sheer irritation.

Having been too shy to approach the actors during the interval, I made Gothly hang around with me in the foyer after the play, so I could congratulate them on their performance and maybe name-drop a bit--"I know the man who wrote this play; we're *very* close friends, actually; oh yes, I've known him for years"--and similar lies. That's when I saw the programmes. A whole stack of them, there on the table. Bloody raffle-ticket woman. The theatre emptied. Most of the staff went home, and still we waited. Someone assured me that the cast would be out soon. An icy wind blasted in through the door and our teeth began to chatter. The clock ticked inexorably, reminding us that we really ought to be setting off for the train station. Gothly paced.

Then I peered into the auditorium, and saw them: all the actors, there on the stage, shifting scenery. So I trotted down the aisle towards them--just as they drifted away through a door.

"Excuse me!" I called. The last actress turned her head. "Um," I said, "I just want to congratulate the cast on their excellent performance."

"Oh!" "Thanks very much! I'll let them know." She carried on walking.

I added, "yes, it was a real pleasure.... I'm glad we came...."

"Oh good," she said. "I'm sure they'll be very pleased."

We looked at each other awkwardly for several moments, and then I told her I had a train to catch, and left.

Despite the alleged predisposition against literature, Gothly chattered about the play all the way home: how great the direction had been, how smooth the acting; how light MrFlay's touch had been, how riveting the plot; how appropriate and funny the political references; how interesting the mixed-media approach. There had been a magic trick in the play, in which two clowns swapped identities while trying to kill each other; Gothly took pleasure in explaining to me (with abundant smugness) how it had been done. I retaliated by practising my gurning-faces in the carriage window.

I celebrated the completion of our annual going-out-for-the-evening by playing a cassette of my favourite music, by The Incredible String Band.

O float with me to distant lands, wondrous and fair,
Float with me to distant lands, wondrous and fair,
Ya-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta ta ta ta-ta-ta tao-ao,
Ya-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta ta ta ta-ta-ta ta-a-a-aaoo!

"I understand," snorted Gothly: "sometimes, when I've been looking at a great work of art, *I* feel the need to listen to some crap, too."

"I had examined the seating arrangement on the internet beforehand"

Cunning.

It seems you each enjoyed the evening out in your own ways. I think the hanging around for the cast idea was doomed to failure but you might have fended off the raffle-ticket woman better and found the programmes if you'd had an umbrella ... or simply been blunt about what you wanted and didn't want.

, sounds like a fun evening! You mean the actors were available to talk to during the interval?

That's one of the nicest reviews I've ever had. I do like audiences who join in a bit.

An umbrella might have done the trick. At the time, I was thinking more along the lines of a gun. Now I think they should have got *her* to sell the programmes.

"or simply been blunt about what you wanted and didn't want."

I haven't had much chance to exercise my assertiveness lately, so it's atrophied a bit.

"sounds like a fun evening!"

Yes, we had great fun. It's nice to get out and do stuff. I'd been looking forward to this play for months.

"You mean the actors were available to talk to during the interval?"

Oh yes, some of them were buying drinks at the bar. That's normal, isn't it? I like to talk performers if I've been watching their show. I'm of the understanding that it's the polite thing to do--isn't it?

MrFlay, how nice to see you on one of my threads. We've been arguing about your Mr Bounderby character lately. I found his enunciation a bit hard to follow, but Gothly enjoyed his rapid-fire delivery, as it gave the impression of a man very nervous that he'd be caught out about his past at any moment. I guess the novel gave me a bunch of preconceptions I could have done without.

Great review

Well unless I misunderstand, your "interval" is what we call an "intermission". It occurs between the acts of the play, and the audience is released to the lobby or consession area to stretch and snack and talk for 15 or so minutes. In the US, to my knowledge, the actors are not usually allowed to intermingle with the audience during this time. For one thing they often have to do costume changes and such but also it would detract from the "suspention of disbelief" if the actors were fratrinizing with the audience during the intermission/interval. This tradition would be observed here unless the company or production was very non-traditional.

After the play ends actors will sometimes come out and chat with audience members. Generally this would be after they'd gotten out of costume and make-up, so they end up talking to friends and die-hards like yourselves.

------

So pardon my ignorance, but who is MrFlay? What am I missing? Is the playwrite a friend of yours, SR? Is this MrFlay who's visiting your journal the same person who wrote the play? Has MrFlay wrote other things I should have heard of?

Yes, we are one and the same.

I've written some things, but nothing you *should* have heard of.

I still haven't gotten to a live play yet or show, but I know I'll love em..

Never, ever been to live theater Mv? Lots of cheap, weird/interesting things Way-Off Broadway in NYC. You could arrange to see something when you're there about your card thingie again. The right weird thing could distract you from whatever horror you've experienced at the immigration office!

Oh, and I did look at your PS MrFlay and thougt you must be the writer in question. for responding.

This is true Hellie, will have a look whilst we are there...I don't expect to get time to go to one, as we anticipate waiting in line for 8 hours minimum next Tuesday - at that point I think we shall be wanting to flee the city afterwards.

I've seen Dracula on the TV as showing on broadway...I'd like to see that.. but what I want to do, and actually get around to doing are two different things entirely.

Geo has promised Christmas Carol, I look forward to that!

sounds a fascinating play
I've sometimes intermingled with cast at intervals or after a show but I usually go to plays at festivels or those done by students, amateur productions etc, rarely the theatre *proper*

Mv, I do hope you get to see A Christmas Carol. Seeing a live performance is something everyone ought to do at least once in their lifetime. (Because I say so.) I wish I could afford to do it more than I do.

It sounds as though the American relationship between actors and audiences is pretty similar to the British one, Hellbound. The cast of Hard Times explicitly said they'd be glad to speak to anyone after the show. But we had time and confidence problems.

"Is the playwrite a friend of yours, SR?"

He's a Virtual Friend. I met him here on h2g2. I came across his PS when he first arrived here, and I suspected him of being Steven Fry or someone. I'm a sucker for the MrFlay writing style. MrFlay, you write as though you've redrafted every sentence several times, and chosen each word with loving care. My bookshelves are full of writing of this sort. It bugs me that so many of these writers are obscure while Catherine Cookson's a worldwide bestseller.

B'cat, festivals: are you talking about the Eisteddfod?

Don't go as much as I used too, only seen 1 play this year
Used to go to The Fringe before it was almost entirely comics (I lived in Edinburgh back then), Galway Arts Festivel recently, I also keep an eye out for stuff in small venues like universities or student unions
When I lived in London I worked 5 minutes walk from the South Bank and went to the theatre regularly
The *proper* theatre in Cardiff seems to concentrate on panto and West End shows that are touring the provinces

Odd that the BBC is so desperate for comics when the Fringe is full of them!

Student productions are great, aren't they? Their poverty seems to have a positive effect on their creativity. Our local uni puts on some great outdoor performances every now and again.

Our local theatre is a bit pants, too. The one where we saw Hard Times had much more interesting-looking events booklets.

Speaking of comedy and TV, what is it with the comedy programmes these days? A new series comes on--like Little Britain, say--and has some really good jokes on it, and then the following week, they tell exactly the same jokes. And the week after that, and every consecutive week until the end of the series. What's *that* all about? Bring back the Monty Python crew, I say.

Yes, student performances are more prepared to take risks IMO and do something that may not work
Of course it means you take a risk as well but more often than not its worth it
Haven't watched any TV for over 6 months now and not missing it

Snailrind: thank you for saying that. I'm genuinely touched, you ol' sweetie.

Blackberry: it's often worth seeing what's going on at Chapter, if you're in Cardiff, or at the RWCMD, for high-quality student stuff. But the New Theatre and the Sherman are both rather patchy, as far as I can see.

thanks Mr Flay, I've just got lazy since moving back here from London but I should try and do something with my time off other than sit in front of a computer screen especially since I do that at work as well

You still working nights, B'cat?