Boxing Day, 2009. South side of the Thames. London, England.I'm standing in the pit, front row, of the Globe Theatre. I feel as if I've been transported back 400 years, and William Shakespeare might actually show up at any minute.
Of course, the real Globe Theatre burned down in 1613, and then was rebuilt, and then demolished by the Puritans in 1644. The theatre I'm standing in is a replica built nearby the original site and as closely as possible to the original dimensions.
I've come to see a farce, a pantomime of sorts, in the style of the day. As I stand in the pit and look up to the open sky, and then to the three rows of tiers behind me filled to capacity, I can't quite believe I'm here. For twenty-three years I' ve talked about this theatre, I've taught plays that were performed in this theatre, I've had pictures and cardboard replicas of this theatre set up around my classroom. But now I'm in the centre of it, and it's as real as can be.
The show begins. The players are magical and bigger than life and they're traipsing about through the pit and up on the stage. They throw bits of bread at us and we respond. I'm reminded of the day less than a month ago when my own 2D class had a hoot throwing oranges at their fellow classmates at the front of the room who were acting as Chorus from Romeo and Juliet. Those kids that day captured the intimacy (albeit messy) that live theatre can be.
The play is a dog's breakfast of spoofs and mime and music and laughter. The actors are in outrageous costumes and are less than a foot away from those of us in the pit. Their spit shoots out over my head. They play off our laughter and our calls and our groans, and we reward them with grins as wide as the grey sky above us. I look around me and I see grown men and women with such childhood joy plastered all over their faces, and I know I look exactly the same way.
I can't remember the last time I felt such unadulterated JOY. This is theatre.
Later that night, my husband and I went to see Phantom of the Opera in London's West end. It was perfect, and a spectacle--and lifeless.
Not one single moment of it came even close to those two magical hours standing in the pit at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre.
Of course, the real Globe Theatre burned down in 1613, and then was rebuilt, and then demolished by the Puritans in 1644. The theatre I'm standing in is a replica built nearby the original site and as closely as possible to the original dimensions.
I've come to see a farce, a pantomime of sorts, in the style of the day. As I stand in the pit and look up to the open sky, and then to the three rows of tiers behind me filled to capacity, I can't quite believe I'm here. For twenty-three years I' ve talked about this theatre, I've taught plays that were performed in this theatre, I've had pictures and cardboard replicas of this theatre set up around my classroom. But now I'm in the centre of it, and it's as real as can be.
The show begins. The players are magical and bigger than life and they're traipsing about through the pit and up on the stage. They throw bits of bread at us and we respond. I'm reminded of the day less than a month ago when my own 2D class had a hoot throwing oranges at their fellow classmates at the front of the room who were acting as Chorus from Romeo and Juliet. Those kids that day captured the intimacy (albeit messy) that live theatre can be.
The play is a dog's breakfast of spoofs and mime and music and laughter. The actors are in outrageous costumes and are less than a foot away from those of us in the pit. Their spit shoots out over my head. They play off our laughter and our calls and our groans, and we reward them with grins as wide as the grey sky above us. I look around me and I see grown men and women with such childhood joy plastered all over their faces, and I know I look exactly the same way.
I can't remember the last time I felt such unadulterated JOY. This is theatre.
Later that night, my husband and I went to see Phantom of the Opera in London's West end. It was perfect, and a spectacle--and lifeless.
Not one single moment of it came even close to those two magical hours standing in the pit at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre.
Live theatre can be fun to view, but it is even more fun to participate. be it as part of the cast or Stage Crew, or even the audience themselves. I find it sad that the Phantom of the Opera didn't turn out well. I've always enjoyed the story, and the dvd version my family owns is marvelous.
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