I’d of course forgotten in the sigh of performance survival, that fragile thing: the teenage ego…and their complete inability to see the connection between effort and eventual grades: so the hugs and smiles were soured by a diva strop (not mine for a change…) that I didn’t have the energy for.
By the end of the school day and a frustrating AS rehearsal I was done: the sort of exhaustion that begs a nap, a take away dinner, an easy to drink wine and a movie you’ve seen endless times before. But this bliss was not to be mine.
C was insisting I come see her Choral Society’s performance of Fiddler on the Roof. My theatre buddy had to stay home with tonsillitis and a sick baby. I begged off, offered ticket money and favours but to Russia I went.
AmDram, especially something like fiddler is so easy to get wrong: the accent can be annoying, Tevye overplayed, the romances saccharine but not this production. I enjoyed the drive through Down and I really enjoyed the performance: a very talented cast skilfully directed to strike that balance between entertainment and poignancy. Something to think about…