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We saw Alan Ayckbourne's play House last night. It's half farce, half marriage-falling-apart. The farce part worked better--it was a little too hard to sympathize with most of the characters.
The gimmick is that it's paired with another play called Garden, to be done in an adjoining theatre with the same actors playing the same roles; this requires very careful timing by all concerned. The problem, in this case, is that Manhattan Theatre Club's production used a much larger theater for House than for Garden, making it difficult to see both. Our organizer, the indefatiguable L., did grab three tickets for the matinee of Garden, so she saw that before she, and we, saw House. Garden apparently is more farce, with lots of physical comedy, and less emotional or other serious content.
A clever conceit, but it's not great art. Though I do now imagine a demented director or producer booking two theatres and doing simultaneous productions of Hamlet and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, but I don't think the timing would work. The Ayckbourne pair were written to fit this precisely, like a jigsaw puzzle.
Afterward we went out for snacks and conversation, meaning it was close to 1 a.m. by the time we got home, medicated the kitty, and fell into bed.
Dunno if I'll make it out for barbecue this afternoon (and after urging![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
agrumer to bring the corn).
The gimmick is that it's paired with another play called Garden, to be done in an adjoining theatre with the same actors playing the same roles; this requires very careful timing by all concerned. The problem, in this case, is that Manhattan Theatre Club's production used a much larger theater for House than for Garden, making it difficult to see both. Our organizer, the indefatiguable L., did grab three tickets for the matinee of Garden, so she saw that before she, and we, saw House. Garden apparently is more farce, with lots of physical comedy, and less emotional or other serious content.
A clever conceit, but it's not great art. Though I do now imagine a demented director or producer booking two theatres and doing simultaneous productions of Hamlet and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, but I don't think the timing would work. The Ayckbourne pair were written to fit this precisely, like a jigsaw puzzle.
Afterward we went out for snacks and conversation, meaning it was close to 1 a.m. by the time we got home, medicated the kitty, and fell into bed.
Dunno if I'll make it out for barbecue this afternoon (and after urging
agrumer to bring the corn).Tags: