I've been seeing plays like a mad man (insane person, not incredibly suave and hip business person). I haven't been this exposed to that culture for years, and I guess it's working for me. I enjoy it. Whatever. It sort of makes me miss it, miss the thrill of walking on stage, taking on something other than self, convincing an entire audience that there is no possible way you can be anything other than what you tell them you are, all while you are safe behind an invisible wall.
I really missed it last night, when I saw three days of rain at the Apollo. *TEASER* It stars James McAvoy. And with that bit o' information, hold on while I wax philosophic for the next couple paragraphs.
The play was fantastic. It was technically brilliant, using a relatively sparse set design that served as the perfect space to inhabit two ages, both the modern day and 1960. But it was the lighting that carried me away. The action was all set within a loft type apartment, with huge windows completely making up one side. They shone light through those in such a way that it looked utterly natural, which is some tough stuff. Very impressive. Along with that, the manipulation of the character's shadows were obviously examined closely, with their movements precisely located so that the size and location of shadow added to the plot perfectly. Beautiful!
And then there was the acting. The other two actors were fine, and held their own, but McAvoy was why people were there, and deservedly so. As Walker/Ned, he proved that he could navigate a stage just as well, if not better than, a movie set. His characters were so different, one tortured and possibly mad, plagued by self-doubt, and the other still possessing doubt, but doubt that came through a debilitating stutter and a quiet demeanor. Both were engrossing, and he was mesmerizing to watch. I got a little choked up at the end, and that does not happen to me.
And then I had the best fangirl moment ever. One of the girls in our group wanted to wait for McAvoy at the stage door, so we huddled and waited for him. We stood there with a huge group of the most polite, calm women you've ever seen. Even when he came out of the theatre, there was no pushing or shoving or that ever-annoying shrieking that usually accompanies these sorts of things. Just people courteously waiting for him to sign their ticket. Which he did, every single person's that was waiting. I love it when people are just as nice and adorable as you always hoped they were, and he lived up to expectations. In fact, we even talked a little while he was signing my ticket. Cue nostaligic memory music and cut to the script!
Me: I loved you in Macbeth.
James (in Scottish accent): Thanks. You might want to watch out where you say that name though, we are outside a theatre. (Gives a wry half smile, signs ticket)
Me: (swoons, but just a little) Oh sorry, I mean the Scottish play.
James: Technically the Scottish TV show. (hands me ticket, may or may not wink).