Went to the theater last night, and watched a play that was so tantalizingly almost good.
Like, right at the cusp of goodness. Intermittently moving, and then very much not, teasing the watcher with the possibility of what it might have been had the playwright cut about twenty minutes of unnecessary, jarring, peculiar choices. It'd be a genuine exploration of loss, relationship, and the power of our connection to place, and then suddenly, SINGING! Let's all march around and CHANT LINES TOGETHER! Here's a SEMICOHERENT MONOLOGUE! Is this suddenly MAGICAL REALISM or have I just had a stroke BECAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS GOING ON!
All of which the cast poured themselves into with as much gusto as one can.
As the stagelights faded, we gave it hearty applause. "They just tried so hard," said Rache.
One hopes, at the end of things, standing before the Maker, that there's a similar generosity. "You just tried so hard."
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