Terrible experience at the National Theatre

After work today I skipped down to the South Bank. The English were all out in their summer gear. Not a jacket or a brolly in sight. I scowled at the lot of them, and headed into the giant cement legomonster that is the National Theatre. I collected the tickets and found a nice glass of Sauvignon Blanc at the bar. My mood got even better when the pinstriped one arrived, swinging his red man-brolly, complete with glossy wooden handle.

The play, The Royal Hunt of the Sun, is listed on the National’s site as ‘…the clash between two cultures leaves thousands of unarmed Inca troops slaughteres and sparks and intense battles of wills between the sun-god and his captor…’ You can see this in full at www.nationaltheatre.org.uk. It was like a badly animated cartoon. The ten pounds I’d paid for my (extremely good) seat seemed an exorbitant amount to have to sit through it. Simplistic, unsophisticated, completely cringeworthy dramatisation. The Inca god spoke in a similar style to Ken Brannagh’s Benedict in Much Ado about Nothing, diguising himself from Beatrice at the masque.

The pin-striped one and I made our exit at the interval and wandered up the bank, delighted that we’d escaped safely.

Next time I decide I want culture, am so picking up Jilly Cooper’s ‘Wicked.’ You can find it on amazon.com by searching for Jilly Cooper, legend.

3 thoughts on “Terrible experience at the National Theatre”

  1. Perhaps the poor quality of the production was divine retribution for your scowling at potentially innocent English people.

    As for Jilly Cooper…

  2. As the newly entitled “pin striped one” I can vouch for the awfulness of “The Royal Hunt of the Sun”. Rarely has such a combination of awful casting, unconvincing acting and ridiculous dancing (yes dancing) come together to steal me of an hour and a half of my life.

    Thankfully we left at the interval, Sheila had to be persuaded not to flee earlier, finding consolation in pasta, pizza and wine.

    However, if you are a big fan of costumes that look like they have emerged from a particularly badly supervised nursery school project and revel in character development so unnuanced you think there must be an ironic under-current you are missing (afraid not) then this may be the play for you.

Comments are closed.