We had not been to the National Cultural Centre for a ‘few mornings’ so last week Friday’s outing to see Puppy Love was to be a treat. At least that’s what we thought. We could not be more wrong.
Just to set the record straight before we go any further, there was nothing wrong with the play or the cast. The storyline was intriguing and Oliver and his colleagues did justice to it.
The first damper of the evening was when the ticket attendant/usher at the door refused entry to a gentleman wearing black khaki pants. She said they were jeans and violated the dress code. They looked fine to us and the man wore dress shoes with them, but he did not demur. He peacefully retrieved his ticket and left to change.
Inside the theatre we saw at least two men who must have slipped in through the back door or at least passed by another ticket attendant. One wore khaki-coloured khaki pants; the other’s ‘shirt’ was so obviously a v-necked t-shirt as not to be missed. But maybe they were special guests.
As we took our seats, we observed that the theatre was not as cool as we remembered and thought that maybe they had turned on the AC late. However, as more patrons poured in and as the night wore on it grew progressively warmer to the point where it was slightly uncomfortable. So we revised our opinion: the AC was probably not working.
To compound it, the vicious vector that has overtaken the city was also present – in droves. We are not sure if they were invited; if they texted to win tickets; or if they just ‘poped’ the show. We are sure they violated all the codes in place at the NCC. They did not dress up; they wore that same old black thing they wear everywhere they go. They sang and danced while the play was in progress. And they ate and drank in the theatre and that’s a big no-no. We could hear them singing; it was annoying. We could see them dancing around in front of us. And gosh! Could we feel them?! They nipped at our arms and legs and whenever possible they drank their fill of our blood. The mosquitoes were truly a nuisance! So much so that we wonder if some of those moves Oliver did on stage weren’t to shake off the mosquitoes as much as to shake his booty.
To crown it all off, as we boxed and brushed at the mosquitoes, the loose seats of the chairs shifted with us. The arms of at least two chairs in the row where we were seated fell off several times, hitting the floor with a bang. We truly had not realized that the NCC had become so shabby. Someone needs to implement a theatre code for the building. There’re only so many times you can grin nervously when you or your fellow patron almost falls off a chair and having a rusty nail (or screw) head poking out of the arm of your chair assault your arm is no joke. Nothing cultural about that.
We would like to end this column with some advice for the patron in E row in the balcony who won one of the gate prizes on Friday night. If someone gives you a free ticket for a show where you had to compete to win tickets, keep it to yourself; especially if the person works at the host company. Your tactlessness could have cost your friend her job. For all we know it did. By the by, we did not text to win our tickets either. We got them from someone who won and then could not attend because he had other commitments. Perfectly legitimate. But if we had won one of those hampers we would not have gone on stage at the NCC and said so. Next time lady, if there is a next time for you, think before you speak. (thescene@stabroeknews.com)