Dramatic exit

Today was a day of theatre.  Actually, it's been something of a week of theatre, as I went to see the very good House of Games at the Almeida on Monday.

But today was all about Birdsong at the Comedy Theatre at Piccadilly.  I don't know whose bright idea it was to equate a gory war story with a theatre whose name conjures up images of laughter... but actually, unfortunately, they weren't far wrong.

By coincidence, I read Birdsong earlier this year, whilst I was in New York.  To be honest, I didn't really enjoy it.  Parts of it I found well-written, and the war scenes were so vividly horrific that I had to glance away from the page from time to time.  But it wasn't one of those books that held me captive.  Some of that may be New York's fault - vying for my attention in the way it does, the novel was never likely to win... but I found it had too many characters, none of whom I really liked, but I did like the twist at the end (which I shan't give away here).

So, off to see Birdsong with some friends.  To say that it reminded me of a sixth form play is perhaps to do injustice to most sixth formers.  A more literal interpretation would be hard to come by.  The narrator would "read" his diary, direct to the audience; in the background, actors would mime out what he was saying, and often the backdrop would display a photograph of whatever he was talking about, in case we were so stupid we hadn't quite worked it out for ourselves.  My favourite moment was this exchange:

Stephen:  Stretchers!  We need a stretcher!

Stretcher bearers: Stretchers coming through (carrying a stretcher)

Photographic backdrop: wartime stretcher bearers.  Genius.

Other favourite moments included Stephen saying to a nurse, "I'm alive!  I'm alive!  Do you know it?  I'm alive?"

She didn't, unfortunately, reply, "Yes, yes, I was aware of that.  I am a medical professional.  They kind of covered off these things on day one of nursing college."

My all time favourite moment though was when the French peasant (with a Bristolian accent - presumably to show she was a peasant) said, "War's a difficult thing".  All we needed was Baldrick adding his "ting a ling a ling", and we'd have had the full Blackadder experience.

At one point a young soldier, about to go and do battle with Germans, turns the gun on himself.  I couldn't help myself.  "Missed!" I said to my friend.  We got inappropriate giggles.

We couldn't bear it.  We left at the second interval - a list of Somme casualties slowly scrolling up the stage for 5 minutes.  A prissy couple of old ladies said to us, "It hasn't finished you know," as we exited.  "No," I said, "but I think we've had all we can take."

Uncle Trevor, you've let the family name down with this one.  Though it did give me a chance to storm out of the theatre.  Admittedly, storming is harder when you have a fit of the giggles.