|I always enjoy watching the play when the lights come on in the house.|
The crowd was probably near capacity tonight. Clumps of people stood at the windows watching the action inside, the imploding lives of characters who have run out of options and can't leave their crappy house, the characters who have to relive this story over and over again for an eight-hour stretch, the characters who have to utter the same heinous lines, unable--according to the rules--to add or subtract a word.
Today, I noticed a fresh baked pan of brownies on the counter, the Duncan Hines mix had been used.
I saw a character say one of his lines while chewing a piece of Halloween candy. (In the script, the characters feel compelled to decorate--however garishly--for every holiday so as to better "fit in" in what we assume is their lower middle class housing development.
Yesterday, I watched a character lop off two words, finding himself unable to repeat one of these sentences again
I really got to know the script.
At promptly 9:00 pm the lights in the house went dark. The play was done for the day and really done. I would not be going back. S and I milled around for a little.
While doing so, I ran into one of the actors from the other cast (their are two that take turns performing). I told him how much the play had started to mean to me, how much it began to be woven into the fabric of my own life. He was visibly touched--unless he was just acting.
I'm assuming this week will be one of withdrawal for me. It might get a little painful.
|The actors finally get to break the 4th wall. The director is on the left.|