Transcript of an Internal Monologue
That Took Place from 7:55pm to 9:00pm on Friday, March 24,
During a Performance of Medea at Tulane University
I am so looking forward to this. When was I here last? Dancing at Lughnasa? That was ages ago. I never thought I’d enjoy Irish theatre, but–omigod, look who it is! And over there! It’s like old home week around here–and some homes are older than others….
Holy crap, sweetie! Did you get lost on your way to the hooker convention? What the hell were you thinking when you left the house? Seriously: with tits that big, there’s no need to advertise…. I have a high threshold for raunch and sleaze, but somehow, you’ve managed to cross it.
Okay, there go the house lights–better shut up. I’m talking to you, booze breath, right in front of me. Try consuming the scotch after the show next time….
Hmmm, the shadow puppet thing is kinda interesting. Not sold on the alleged music, but I’m sure some undergrad put it together, so whatevs. Maybe it’s what the alternative kids are listening to these days. Whatever happened to the Cocteau Twins? Did Liz Frasier just give up?
Damn, this is a serious blackout. That stage is awfully high–I hope they put down enough glowtape. Me, I’d fall right off, ’cause I have the worst night vision in the–oh, there we go…. They must be the chorus. Greek chorus, Kabuki style. Not exactly the most original thing I’ve ever seen, but I’ll let it go.
Why are they shouting?
I can’t believe it: they’re still shouting.
Why. The. Hell. Are. They. Shouting?!? I thought this hotshot director was all about Suzuki method and crap, but you coulda fooled me. Where’s the nuance? I mean, didn’t he see War of the Worlds? Wasn’t he paying attention?
Note to director: if you’re gonna be all hardcore and angsty with people shouting and shit, you can’t have actors with lateral lisps. Wendy from South Park as Greek chorus? Not effective. … I can only hope that things get better once the action starts.
Medea in barbarian attire. Well, isn’t that original? Still, she has an interesting look to her. Of course, that’s probably more to do with her bone structure than–OMIGOD! Now, why is SHE shouting? Are they going to keep this up for the whole show?
What the hell is going on with the showgirl-in-a-wheelchair routine?
Okay, now they’re just being ridiculous. Everyone is shouting. Is this some kind of a joke? Are we supposed to take them seriously? They don’t even know what they’re saying! They’re like a bunch of Ethel Mermans, standing downstage center and belting tunes…. Someone needs to tell that schmuck of a director that just because he’s really into body control and stuff doesn’t mean he can skip the text of the play. The play is worth nothing if it doesn’t tell me a goddamn story! … And really: how can a play have a climax if all the actors start of screaming? Where can they possibly build to?
For goddess’ sake, bitch: just kill the fucking children and ride off in your little dragon chariot. Now. Please.
I’m tempted to stand up and shout, “She’s in the attic!”, but I don’t think many people would get the joke.
Oh, thank you. Thank you, goddess. It’s over. Thank you. My eardrums couldn’t take another minute. I hate each and every one of you on that stage. I mean, I understand you’re undergrads and all, but at some point during the rehearsal process, one of you should have stood up and said, “This is a load of crap!” …But of course, I hate your director even more.
Good, I’m not alone: I can tell from the post-show chatter that I’m not the only one who feels as though an hour has been stolen from my life. Where’s the goddamn bar?
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