Let me entertain you

I bought my ticket for The Entertainer several weeks ago, so this was definitely my big Friday night out in London. Not that the start was particularly auspicious. I could have kicked myself when I got to the corner of Earls Court Road on my way to The Old Vic, because I had left my London map behind and didn't want to go back for it. My friends all know what a horrible sense of direction I have, so it was dangerous, but I plowed ahead anyway. Imagine my pride when I turned out to have remembered exactly the right Tube station (Waterloo). Not only that, but I was able to spot the theatre, which is Pepto-Bismol pink, from the entrance to the Underground. So I not only managed not to get lost, I did not take one step in the wrong direction.

Maybe I just have a built in homing device for Robert Lindsay. Big fan from Hornblower days, so he's the reason I bought this ticket. To be honest, I was lukewarm on the play. You know -- John Osborne the angry young playwright of the Fifties, kitchen sink drama, Archie Rice not exactly an attractive character, etc.

I could not have been more wrong. I have not seen tons of theatre in my life, but I've seen some, including in London and New York. I've never seen anything more accomplished or enthrallling. Robert Lindsay really is (as I overheard someone in the crowd say as we were leaving) a unique talent. I'm not sure who other than Laurence Olivier has essayed this part, but I can't imagine anyone else besides these two could quite do it justice. He can sing, he can dance, he can do this amazing high wire act of seedy comedy layered with complex undercurrents of dramatic emotion. And yet in many ways he is outdone by the incredible Pam Ferris as Archie's clueless, put-upon wife Phoebe. She's just magnificent and the rest of the cast also holds up well, especially David Baron who recently took over the role of Archie's father.

The theatre -- which is beautiful inside, all white and gold, though apparently crumbling -- was absolutely packed. I'm sure there were plenty of Americans and other visitors but I had the sense the audience was predominately British and somehow very proud of this play (which is an important one) and this production. I had quite a good seat, fourth row back, third in from stage left and it got me into the act, as it were.

In parts of the play, Archie interacts directly with the audience as though it were the audience in his music hall performance. And a very seedy performance it is, too. At several points, he does this business of wiggling his finger around in his trousers pocket, leering, and saying, "You wouldn't think I was sexy, would you, madam?" The first time it happens it goes on for thirty seconds or so and oh, yes he was looking straight at me. No REALLY. I swear on a stack of Bibles. And trying to get a reaction out of me, too. I just managed not to bury my face in my hands but could otherwise only laugh helplessly and turn sixteen shades of pink. It was a peak experience, over too soon. Even without the special attention, I'd have been glad I went, but as it was I truly would not have missed it for the world.

Unfortunately, London is a tale of too many plays and too little time (and money!), but I did get myself a ticket to the farce Boeing Boeing for when I return from Oslo next Monday. I'd have liked to have seen John Simm (from Life on Mars) in Elling and Kris Marshall, Billie Piper and Laurence Fox in Treats. The couple I sat next to at The Old Vic gave me an enthusiastic recommendation for the musical Billy Elliot, so that would have been on my list, too.

Ah, well. Next up, what I did on Saturday -- More unexpected delights.