The bar / café was fairly crowded. Helen had to visit the toilet, and since there was a bench just there, that was where we did most of our waiting. Until we heard that a queue was forming in the bar, so said we'd better join it. What with the crush, and the waiter constantly excusing himself to pass through the queue in one direction or another, serving people who were eating, it was a relief when the queue started to move and we were let into the theatre. This was the "little" space, as opposed to the "large", where I was last time.
You cross the stage area to get to the seating, which is bench style, upholstered. Comfy enough, but causes a few aches after a while. I was rather glad when the person beside me didn't return after the interval, and I had more room to stretch out. The set is intriguing..
.. lots of paraphernalia hung on the walls, and on shelves: it would be fascinating to pore through the old bits and bobs. Not only that, but shelves were also hung from the ceiling, and contained mysterious glass bottles. To finish the piece, musical instruments were hung from the walls at the back. I knew from the show notes that Holmes plays the violin in the show, but that wasn't all that was back there..
This is a Sherlock Holmes mystery, and while I'm sure I've heard the story before, I didn't remember any of it - so that's fine. To begin with, you wonder whether you're in the right place, as smoke obscures the back of the stage and a parched couple draw into view, lying on the ground. A father and daughter, they are rescued by members of an unspecified religious sect, later revealed to be Mormons. The action then switches to Baker Street, where we meet Dr. Watson, the narrator, who is seeking a room in London and applies to share a flat with Holmes, being shown in by the landlady, Mrs. Hudson. He meets Holmes, takes the room, and, learning that Holmes is a sometime detective for the police, convinces him to take a strange murder case that the police write to him about, with no evident marks on the body. And we're off!
It's a cracking yarn, terrifically acted. The story switches back and forth between Baker Street and Utah, the stories coming together at the end. Clever stage lighting helps both to emphasise different parts of the stage, and to convey a mood. Most of the actors play a role in each story, but the changeover is seamless. Slight costume changes, an accent change, changes in gait and mannerisms - and off they go. It's actually quite easy to believe there are two distinct sets of characters. Oh, and one other thing. Those musical instruments? All cast members play something! The first person to pick up a fiddle isn't Holmes, it's Mrs. Hudson! And whenever a mood is to be conveyed - such as unease, for instance - you'll find one of them, just offstage, on the violin.
It was witty, and fast-paced, and the story was gripping. I loved it, and anyone with an interest in Sherlock Holmes probably will too. Runs until Saturday week. It didn't sell out tonight, but it was quite full - and I would beware weekends, which are probably busier. WhatsOnStage has a £15 ticket offer, which I was too late to avail of. But I do recommend this show.
Minor gripes - I had to try three cubicles at the interval before I found one with toilet paper. Also, the show was five minutes longer than advertised on the website, and started 10 minutes late - this meant that, although we had planned to eat out, Helen decided it would be a bit tight for her to make a train at a reasonable hour, and we skipped it and went straight home. She scuttled off at Waterloo, just in time to make a nice early train, and I continued to Piccadilly, where I changed to the Piccadilly Line, glad to leave behind a yelling group of women. Instead, on the Piccadilly platform, I had a loud group of young men - sounded Italian.
Alighting at Earl's Court, I headed for Tesco and bought something to eat. Which included those Tesco Finest potatoes in goose fat. I gave them five minutes longer tonight, which improved them. Next time, I'll try them at 35 minutes.
Tomorrow night, I'm booked to see Therese Raquin, by Émile Zola, at the Finborough Theatre, which has the distinction of being the only theatre within walking distance of my place. This has been selling out, and this performance was the first I could manage to get a ticket for! Mind you, it is a small venue. With all the sold-out shows, it's ages since I've been there! And on Saturday - once I've signed for the delivery I arranged for that day - is the rescheduled performance by La Meute, whose injured performer has, apparently, recovered.
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