Was at the Aldwych Theatre last night for Top Hat, a reworking of the old Astaire/Rogers film. All Art Deco and 20s-glamour escapism, it was the sort of old-fashioned feel-good stuff that goes down well when times is hard, such as they are now.
I did, of course, greatly enjoy the thing. But my missus is quite keen on pointing out that I'm naturally negative, and she's probably right - there is always something. The audience comprised the usual mix of grey hairs, coach-fulls of tourists, couples and family groups. The sort of decent, normal, working British people that occasionally REALLY BLOODY WELL WIND ME UP! God forbid any group who've gathered in the same place with the specific intention of watching artists who can sing and dance fantastically, should sit quietly and actually watch them do so. Oh no. We had, variously, in descending order of wind-me-upness;
First: mobile phones going off, twice, despite the usual reminder to switch them off. The first one had the bloke fumbling around in the dark, trying to locate the off switch on his own phone, and went on so excruciatingly long that somebody behind him eventually shouted at him to shut it up. The second one was even more unforgivable - directly the intermission happened, vast swathes of the crowd were straight on their mobiles. I can't quite imagine what normal Average Joes and Josephines have going on in their lives that's so utterly crucial and urgent that it can't wait beyond the duration of an evening's entertainment. Clearly one of those secret agents/Prime Ministers/whatever forgot to switch theirs off after said interval, because one went off in the second half right in front of the bloke whose phone had so shamed him not an hour earlier. Evidently this individual learned nothing from the first bloke's humiliation and embarrassment. FUCKWIT!
Second: if you find you're unable to go through an entire hour-and-a-bit of each half of a piece of musical theatre without eating, do try not to bring your sweets in the Noisest, Rustliest Bag In The World™, spend 10 minutes passing them backwards and forwards between your family members, and have taken special care to make sure that each individual sweet within the Noisest, Rustliest Bag In The World™ is then wrapped in extraordinarily loud, crinkly wrappers. That way the people in the three rows behind and in front of you will be able to hear the songs and maybe even some of the dialogue.
Third: once the lights have gone down and the singing begins, the show has fucking started! Shut the fuck up, stop fiddling with the binoculars in the seat in front of you (which will not come out of the holder without a quid going in first) and watch the thing. If even the nice, grey-haired, late-middle-aged lady behind you has to lean forward and tell you to shut up, you must realise you were talking at an inappropriate time. Heed her words.
It was a crying shame because it's difficult to concentrate on what's going on in front of you when you're being distracted by what's going on below, behind and to the left of you.
And relax...
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