In my bookshelf of plays, I have a volume so slim that it doesn't even have a spine to print its title on. The play is called "The Fifteen Minute Hamlet," and is indeed a condensed version of "Hamlet" that should, I supposed, take fifteen minutes to perform. It is followed by an encore... apparently a two minute version of Hamlet. Would you like to guess who wrote these oh so brief plays? Well, it was none other than Tom Stoppard. Tonight's performance of Stoppard's "Rock 'n' Roll" ran three hours and five minutes. His play before that was the nine hour snooze fest, "The Coast of Utopia." Does the idea that he wrote such a short play so shame him that he must make up for it by making his new works as long as possible? Does Mr. Stoppard have a fear of editors? Are his directors so enamored with his shelf of awards that they are afraid to cut one precious line from his plays? Well, I don't know the answer to those questions, but I do know one thing: "Rock 'n' Roll" is too darn long. Granted, the play would likely be AT LEAST a half hour shorter, had they cut the very long, very distracting, very boring scene changes. For some reason - I guess to rub in the fact that the play is indeed about rock n roll - at each scene change the curtain comes down, some random rock song is blasted at a volume so loud that it is certainly only meant to wake up theatergoers who would try to say 'Wake me when it's over,' and projected on the curtain - in a different kooky style each time (it's sort of like what a first-time Powerpoint presentation looks like when someone wants to use a different effect on each slide because it's JUST SO COOOOOL) - is every little detail of every song, like who wrote it, who sang it, who played each instrument, where it was recorded, and what label it was released on. Who wants to know this useless information? Certainly not me. But I guess it's true to Stoppard's style of throwing pretentious drivel into his plays that only those holding doctorate degrees in history or philosophy would possibly care about (or understand). Those hideous scene changes are used every few minutes in the first act, making the play feel very choppy. Luckily, there are fewer scene changes in the second. Still, there was a point, I guess around the three hour mark, when the curtain came down, they played a song, and I was certain the play was finally over. I kid you not, when I tell you that I almost burst into tears when the curtain went back up and the actors started on the next scene. I had actually been enjoying the play up to that point, but I had quite simply reached my breaking point and I couldn't take any more of the play. There were only two short scenes left to suffer through, but they absolutely ruined the play for me. Had it ended but five minutes earlier, I would probably say I liked though didn't love the show. I was so excited that while there was some political drivel that I didn't understand, I did think I understood most of what was going on, and was really enjoying Rufus Sewell's brilliant performance as Jan. Granted, I didn't really understand (or care) why Jan was so obsessed with rock n roll - it kind of just seemed like some device Stoppard was using to try to be hip - but the idea of struggling under an evil government's reign is easy enough to understand. And there were some interesting points made about politics in the 60s. HOWEVER, because of those last two scenes, I think I'm going to break out in a cold sweat next time I have to enter a theatre. I don't think I've ever been so happy to leave a theatre or so happy for a show to finally end. When the show didn't end when I thought it would, I think I had visions of sitting in the theatre until 4:30 the next morning, with the play still going on. "Rock 'n' Roll" may not have been nine hours long like "The Coast of Utopia," but it sure felt just as long. Is it so much to ask for 90 minutes no intermission?
On the subject of 90 minutes, no intermission, I went to see Charles Busch's absolutely delightful "Die, Mommie, Die!" the complete opposite of a Tom Stoppard play, if there ever were. 90 minutes of mindless campy fluff. The perfect anecdote to a Stoppard play if there ever were one, ah only if I had seen them in the opposite order. Busch plays diva Angela Arden, and of course one cannot takes one's eyes off of him when he is onstage. He is joined by the always hilarious Kristine Nielsen, who plays the maid, and a few other actors who do (purposeful) campy, over-the-top bad acting oh so well. The play isn't brilliant my any means, but it's a mighty entertaining was to pass an evening.
