Level Four Lockdown: Day Seventeen
Curfew. 8 p.m.
Mood: A touch glum.
I approached the shredder with a sense of sadness. In my hand, three tickets.
A ticket for 10 October to see As You Like It at the Sumner. A ticket for something called Girls and Boys for 21 November at the Fairfax,and one ticket for Sunshine Super Girl for 12 December at the Sumner. These are the last three tickets for this year's Melbourne Theatre Company run.
Since March, there has been no theatre. With everything closed because of the coronavirus lockdowns, live theatre has stopped. Yes, you can find a bit of theatre on the television. I'm hoping, once the curfew is lifted, that I'll be able to go to a friend's house and finally see Hamilton.
For the last ten or so years, I've been an MTC subscriber. I love theatre. I love the spectacle. I love the costumes. I love the white knuckle ride of the actors as they go through their paces. I enjoy looking at the staging of the productions.
Okay, I just love the theatre.
But this year, there has been precious little theatre. There's been no extra Shakespeare's (though there was an okay Hamlet in the Botanical Gardens in February. There's no sneaky trips to the Bell, snagging a late ticket to see what they are up to. There's no questioning the production values or casting choices. There's not repeating the lines of these marvellous plays in my head.
Then again, when you think about it, Shakespeare regularly saw the theatres closed because of the plague.
The crappest thing about this virus is how it has decimated the arts. Live productions have suffered the most - with no bailouts to help the performers, the tech staff, the casuals, and everybody else who contributes to the whole experience.
The theatres are closed. Gone with it the funding which ticket sales and patronages provide. Who knows when we will see the inside of a theatre again.
The email from the MTC came through today. There will be no productions for the rest of the year.
I understand.
But this should be the time I'm pouring over the yearly catalogue of plays, wondering what I will be seeing, wondering what will be delighting me, challenging me, enthralling me - or just pissing me off - yeah, that happens too.
Instead, I'm slowly feeding my unused, redundant tickets into my shredder. I feel like I am wontonly blaspheming. It feels like the theatre gods are weeping too.
This is my first year without Shakespeare in probably 35 years.
I am in mourning.
I'm hitting myself up with Andrew Scott playing Hamlet. Oh to see this back again, live, with an audience - as it should be.
Today's Song:
Today's Song:
Curfew. 8 p.m.
Mood: A touch glum.
I approached the shredder with a sense of sadness. In my hand, three tickets.
A ticket for 10 October to see As You Like It at the Sumner. A ticket for something called Girls and Boys for 21 November at the Fairfax,and one ticket for Sunshine Super Girl for 12 December at the Sumner. These are the last three tickets for this year's Melbourne Theatre Company run.
Since March, there has been no theatre. With everything closed because of the coronavirus lockdowns, live theatre has stopped. Yes, you can find a bit of theatre on the television. I'm hoping, once the curfew is lifted, that I'll be able to go to a friend's house and finally see Hamilton.
For the last ten or so years, I've been an MTC subscriber. I love theatre. I love the spectacle. I love the costumes. I love the white knuckle ride of the actors as they go through their paces. I enjoy looking at the staging of the productions.
Okay, I just love the theatre.
But this year, there has been precious little theatre. There's been no extra Shakespeare's (though there was an okay Hamlet in the Botanical Gardens in February. There's no sneaky trips to the Bell, snagging a late ticket to see what they are up to. There's no questioning the production values or casting choices. There's not repeating the lines of these marvellous plays in my head.
Then again, when you think about it, Shakespeare regularly saw the theatres closed because of the plague.
The crappest thing about this virus is how it has decimated the arts. Live productions have suffered the most - with no bailouts to help the performers, the tech staff, the casuals, and everybody else who contributes to the whole experience.
The theatres are closed. Gone with it the funding which ticket sales and patronages provide. Who knows when we will see the inside of a theatre again.
The email from the MTC came through today. There will be no productions for the rest of the year.
I understand.
But this should be the time I'm pouring over the yearly catalogue of plays, wondering what I will be seeing, wondering what will be delighting me, challenging me, enthralling me - or just pissing me off - yeah, that happens too.
Instead, I'm slowly feeding my unused, redundant tickets into my shredder. I feel like I am wontonly blaspheming. It feels like the theatre gods are weeping too.
This is my first year without Shakespeare in probably 35 years.
I am in mourning.
I'm hitting myself up with Andrew Scott playing Hamlet. Oh to see this back again, live, with an audience - as it should be.
Today's Song:
Today's Song:
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