Play: Dark Vanilla Jungle

It brightened up around lunchtime, but went dull again, and while the weather was decent, it was overcast, and not conducive to outdoors activities. So I decided to go to Dark Vanilla Jungle, as I'd been considering. I hadn't booked, and had a glance at the website as I was preparing to go out. Was I glad I did! Firstly, showtime was an hour later than I'd thought, so just as well I saved myself rushing. Secondly, there were only two tickets left.. I booked one fairly rapidly!

It also occurred to me that I now had time to eat before I left. Problem was, I was planning to cook Tesco Finest roast potatoes in goose fat, which the instructions say take at least 55 minutes. Not feasible. I finally decided to just put them in with the chicken, which takes 25 minutes, and take my chances. Hey, if they weren't cooked, I needn't eat them. Well folks, I am here to tell you that 55 minutes is way too long for them - they come out pretty much burnt to a crisp. They're much better after 25 minutes, although 30 would probably be ideal.

Now, I don't often get to the Soho Theatre, and I thought I'd better revise the route. This time, instead of walking from Piccadilly Circus, Google Maps suggested I take the Tube to Leicester Square and walk from there. I've considered that route before, but given that the Tube journey is slightly longer (although the walk is about the same length), I decided against it. This time, however, dreading the crowds around Piccadilly Circus and down Shaftesbury Avenue, I thought seriously about it. When I checked the route, I saw I already knew most of it - just head for the Curzon Soho, as I often have, bear left, and it's the second street on the right. Easy!

Let me tell you, it was a lot less stressful than coming from Piccadilly Circus. Must go that way in future! It's much less crowded. The worst part was the final stretch, along Dean Street - but that's always bad, with crowds taking over the pavements as they cluster outside, or queue for, bars and clubs. So passing pedestrians are forced into the road. Anyway, I panted my way to the box office with minutes to spare - which is better than I normally do, here - and gave him my surname and postcode. He handed me my ticket, advising me to go straight up - latecomers would not be admitted. Considering that I knew this was on the top floor - and that's a lot of stairs, with the lift not working (hasn't been in ages now) - I really appreciated that sentiment, yes I did.

The stairs aren't bad, but if you're headed to the top floor, you'll be quite winded by the time you get there. I was quite relieved to see a queue ahead of me on the stairs as I neared the top, giving me an excuse to lean against the banister. And so we filed into the small room, with the poor lady tearing our tickets having to say exactly the same to each person - no readmittance, turn off your phone. I was near the end of the queue, so just took a seat on the front row, it was easier (seating is unassigned at this theatre). I noticed that, despite all but one seat having been sold, there were a few empty seats - people who couldn't make it, I guess.

And so, in a nondescript sort of a way, the show began, with a young woman entering timidly, closing the door behind her. I initially thought it was an audience member, returning late from the toilet - until she made her cautious, apologetic way to centre-stage. This was the young lady - apparently also in Game of Thrones, though I don't watch it - who was to hold our attention for the next hour and 20 minutes, without an interval.

I have seen good plays before, often in this very room. The last time I saw a play this good was at the beginning of February, when there was a Beckett trilogy in town - also a one-woman show, as it happens. This play is astounding. The story is brilliantly told, and the casting is superb - she really makes this part her own. It's the story of a badly abused girl. But it starts out nice and chatty. She engages audience members, looking them directly in the face, coming right up to the front row. She's funny, she's sweet. But after a bit, she starts to flip to aggression, without warning. And just as suddenly, it's like it never happened. And, in random snatches, random snippets of her life, a horrific story unfolds.

It is brilliantly described. You can really visualise some scenes - the ones in particular that stay with me are those where she's wandering down the highway, alone, having suffered one trauma or another - and she discovers she's without her shopping bags. "Must have left them in the car park." It's always the more banal scenes that stay with you. An interesting facet of the story for me was that the character's mother is supposed to have been from Tuamgraney, originally - well, that's not far from where I'm from! Hell, I was there last Thursday.. I should add at this point that she speaks with an English accent when representing the main character, but slips effortlessly into a brogue when playing her mother.

And my, but she earns her pay. She spends 80 minutes tearing around the room, acting her heart out, literally going into a fit at one point. You can see the sweat pouring from her from halfway through. After her fit on the floor, she leaves behind a pool of sweat. You're so close to the action, too. It's visceral. It's gruelling. It's possibly the best thing on right now. And we breathed a collective sigh of relief when it was over. But that's just because we lived and breathed this story with the girl in the denims, sweating on stage. HIGHLY recommended. Runs until Sunday week. Probably safer to book.

To round off what was an excellent evening, I decided to come back by Piccadilly Circus, and the busker was playing Hallelujah. Ahh.. oh, and it's been a very feline day too. Not only did I look out the window this evening to see all of three cats on the back garden fence, but at least two of them were definitely newcomers. And on my way home, I saw two more being let out of the Hotel Boka. Can't say whether they were guests or employees..

Tomorrow is the Sherlock Holmes play, A Study in Scarlet, at the Southwark Playhouse. Unfortunately, after I'd already booked, an offer became available for that show - but what can you do? Friday is Therese Raquin, an Émile Zola play running at the Finborough Theatre. And, with the acrobat recovered, apparently, I managed to get my booking for La Meute at the Roundhouse rescheduled for Saturday..