We're big fans of The Thick of It in this house, and as mentioned in my last post they were recently filming the fourth season. As such I thought that Peter Capaldi's run in The Ladykillers had ended. [Some background- The Ladykillers is an adaptation of the Ealing comedy being performed in London, which is 3-4 hours from here by train. Far too far for me to consider normally.] I was good, I didn't intentionally look into it, or google the show or anything. Then a friend on Twitter retweeted that it was actually closing on Saturday and that there were some tickets on sale at a reduced price.
If you're not part of a fandom you might never have felt that creeping grip of "gotta do it, gotta do it" excitement that such news brings, but it's a bit intoxicating and, considering my health, a bit frightening. I decided to go, I was feeling better than I had in a while and it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Then overnight my health crashed and I started to panic. I wanted to go but I couldn't go alone any more. Thankfully a dear friend was willing to join the insanity and less than 24 hours before the matinee show we had tickets and a plan.
Getting to London was the first trial, since it involved a bus and two trains, none of which I cope that well on. Sitting for long periods for me can be worse than standing and going through tunnels is horrible since I can't correct the pressure in my ears. There was the fun of getting from St Pancreas Station to Shaftesbury Avenue. I can't travel by underground any more, they give me flashbacks to 15th June 1996, so we ended up walking/limping the 2 miles from the station to the theatre, including a brief detour caused by the giant gold Freddie Mercury statue on Oxford Street. We arrived 30 minutes before the show started and managed to squeeze through the press of people to our seats. Aisle seats are great on one hand because you can actually stretch your legs out, but less great when you have to keep standing up to let people pass whilst juggling a cane, program and drinks.
In terms of the cast, Peter Capaldi as Professor Marcus was the reason I wanted to go, but the entire ensemble was amazing. Sherlock's Stephen Wight was brilliant as the drug-addled Harry and had some fantastically well timed moments of slapstick comedy. James Fleet was adorable and charming as Major Countney. The big surprise for me was Ben Miller. I've always been a fan of the Armstrong and Miller Show, and I stuck with Primeval because he was so good as James Lester, but his performance as the psychotic Romanian with an irrational fear of little old ladies was spot on. In terms of skill Marcia Warren's portrayal of Mrs Wilberforce was a lesson in itself, maintaining the stooped and shuffling movements of an elderly person whilst managing half of a slapstick routine clearly took a huge amount of work.
One of the major themes of the physical comedy was that Mrs Wilberforce was constantly standing on Professor Marcus' scarf, and we heard some people complaining during interval that some of those moments looked a little bit forced. I've study acting, and the friend that was with me is a drama degree student, and the concentration necessary to hit a mark, get lines right, step on a moving strip of fabric that you CANNOT LOOK AT and not accidentally kill your co-star, is extraordinary. There are going to be occasions when one actor or another has to make an adjustment for the performance to continue to flow and if it's something tied around one actors neck, you have to be a bit careful with it. Seriously, if you're going to complain about tiny things like that in a live show, then go home and watch TV where they can do a hundred takes, that you don't have to see, to get it right.
Overall the best non-musical comedy I've seen in a decade, two and a half hours of solid laughter, thrills, spills, robbery and murder. As I mentioned before the show closed on Saturday, but if you ever see a production being staged near you I urge you to go and see it.
One of the major issues with having a chronic condition is the long term effect of your actions. You can tell people that something will hurt or that it'll exhaust you but unless you've lived with it, or with a loved one who has it, the true effects can be hard to explain. We got home 15 hours after we left, having walked four miles across London and back, spent seven hours on trains and buses, stood in the cold for two hours and laughed in an over heated room for two and half hours. In that time I was unable to eat anything substantial (two biscuits) or take any of my pain medication. To paraphrase Robert Downey Junior's Sherlock Holmes - in summary: back spasming; left shoulder, hand & hip dislocated; right hand swollen due to cane use; broken rib bruised by laughing too much. Physical recovery: 6 weeks. Full psychological recovery: 6 months. Ability to function as a human being: neutralised.
Was it worth it? Yes. Would I do it again any time soon? No. But then I said that after the Gary Numan debacle. *shrug*
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