It was another day for theatrical outings. My roommate Chuck has decided to make a more concerted effort to take advantage of the opportunities that are provided to him in NYC. So in an effort to do this he decided that he would get me tickets to the theatre for my birthday. (It’s April 12. Shop early. It takes a while for mail to get to Iowa.) So tonight we attended Edward Scissorhands, Matthew Bournes’ new stage adaptation of the Tim Burton movie.
I saw Matthew Bournes’ Swan Lake here in New York many years ago and loved it. It had all male swan dancers and was very homoerotic. It was incredibly moving and I have to admit that I cried at the end. Tonight’s performance although not as moving was still an amazing night. The show was great. The mixture of ballet and modern dance worked incredibly well. And before you guys start getting bored, there were no girls in tutus on point. In fact, in one scene, several of the dancers were shirtless at a backyard barbecue and they were hot, hot, hot!
The ballet is very faithful to the movie and tells the story quite nicely. My roommate and I were talking at intermission about whether we would be able to follow the plot if we hadn’t seen the movie. We both agreed it would be easy, since the story was so clearly told through dance. I should also add that the scenery and lighting were near perfect. There are things I might have done differently but they didn’t hire me so I guess we’ll never know.
Now for the shitty part of the evening. Chuck and I had just found our seats when the people in the row behind us arrived. It was two women, a man and two VERY small children. One of the kids was about 3.5 and the other was about 6. They were far to young to be at this show and it was quickly made apparent. If my chair was kicked once during the show it was kicked a million times. In fact during Act 2 it was a constant. The 6 year old wanted to go to sleep and couldn’t get comfortable so he kicked and kicked. The 3.5 year old little girl cried through most of Act 1 because it was scary. She said over and over “I don’t like this.” It was cute the first time. And the icing on the cake. The 6 year old was sick. He had the most disgusting, hacking cough you have ever heard. It was bad in Act 1 and was intolerable in Act 2. It sounded like he was going to lose a lung, and he must have been coughing up the most unsightly stuff from the sounds he was making.
My roommate and I spent most of the evening making snide little glances at each other, hoping that one of the parents would realize that this might have been a mistake and take them out. But that was not to be. They stayed for the whole show. Kicking and Coughing. UGH. It makes me glad that I am not a parent. Of course I would have had the good sense to stay home with my sick child and give my tickets to Ur-Spo. But as everyone knows especially in Arkansas, gays don’t make good parents so I guess we’ll never know.