It worked a charm - we flew back, and I could set out in a relaxed manner. It was a scorcher of an evening, as it had been a scorching day - the kind of day where your own skin is too hot, you know? I needed a train to connect to the Victoria Line - one to Vauxhall was the next that I could make. And boy, was I glad to get a seat - both on train and Tube.
Oxford Street was its usual nightmare of slow-moving tourists.. perhaps worse than usual, in the baking heat. Anyway, I was in plenty of time to join the others in the bar in the lobby of the theatre, where the Man had a couple of tables reserved. We sat, we chatted, we drank - when the announcement came to head upstairs for the show, a number of members made a bolt for it. And then there were those of us that didn't. Hey, you know, it's all very well wanting to get there early and all, but - as per a discussion I had earlier in the day - it ain't always necessary!
Well, we did make it in time, and took our seats in the Upstairs. It would be the Upstairs. Practically every time I get to Soho Theatre, I end up in the Upstairs, up all those flights of stairs to the topmost theatre. At least it was deliciously cool. Unusually, seating for this production is in the round - circling a pretty bare stage, a kind of plinth in the middle, a sofa on one side. Some seating at the edges is meant for performers, as became obvious when one audience member was asked to move his bag under his chair, out of the way.. of an actor, of course.
Fury, the show is called - 70 minutes, no interval. Five actors: one a single mother of two boys, one the neighbour in the flat overhead. The others play multiple roles. This is the most intense show I've seen in a long time. It's the story of a young woman who made some unwise choices (who hasn't?) and suffers for them - time and time again. The whole focus is on her, all the other characters seen through her eyes. As things get worse for her, the audience is riveted on her - a terrific performance by Sarah Ridgeway. The fury of the title is hers - and in the end, is turned in the only direction left to her..
Other characters are underdeveloped - stereotyped, or just outlined. But this is one woman's very personal story: as stated in one line, "someone needs to make a decision". Is everything her fault? Is it the fault of people who think they know her "type"? Who's to blame - and why? A very thought-provoking piece, utterly engrossing. Recommended. Runs until 30th - booking also recommended, it was sold out tonight, I think. On a Monday.
Unusually, we stayed in the lobby bar afterwards - it's a while since we've done that. Well, it is convenient, and wasn't busy, for once..
And - as often happens in Southwark Playhouse, as someone remarked - the actors came out to the bar afterwards, too. But we left them in peace, tonight.
I made sure to go home via Waterloo, which has a distinct theme these days, owing to its appearance in a certain film:
The 139 got me there (from Haymarket), the 77 from there to home - once I'd found the stop, and with alarms that wouldn't turn off and must have annoyed the driver no end.
Now, tomorrow, Ken's Events (and one of his subsidiary groups: London Art, Comedy & Culture Lovers) are off to something interesting - the London Philharmonic is playing a free concert in Canada Square Park. Free picnic mats will, apparently, be distributed, and it's supposed to be a scorcher of a day. Perfect combination, in fact! Ken, mind you, is charging £2 to go with him - so I'll schlep along independently, thanks v much.
On Wednesday, the Man with the Hat..
..is off to Top Secret again: and so am I. And on Thursday, I got a cheap ticket to a magic show; Champions of Magic is showing in Logan Hall. Mind you, I'd just booked the thing when I got an email from ShowFilmFirst, offering free tickets..!
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