Of course I felt awful. But Dad said it took him the best part of his life to realise that if he wasn't enjoying a book it was not actually compulsory to finish it. What is the point if you are willing the end to come with all your might and the book in question is soul destroying? It is a waste of time. You could be doing something infinitely more pleasurable and fulfilling.
I applied this same logic to a play.
It did make it worse that the first time I walked out of a performance was at the esteemed Globe theatre. BUT, I hasten to add, it was not Shakespeare, which would, of course, be sacrilege. Instead, it was some political drama (if one could call a lot of men sitting around in period clothing voting on matters of Government 'drama' as such) that documented American goings on within state arounf the time of Franklin etc. So it was to be expected really.
I love the Globe, and the whole ambience of the inspirational setting. Even the venue, with all its Shakespeare in Love connections, was not enough to redeem this play. The accents were dire, ranging from caricature hillbilly, to variations of Irish and Scottish (which at least was entertaining in its way) and there was an awful lot of thespian posturing, and placing of cast members within the audience. A frankly terrifying notion, as I was in a constant anticipatory state of dread that they would explode into action right beside me.
And so it was that I left in the interval (I would never be so rude as to leave mid-actorly gesture or speech) for the Tate Modern. Along with half the audience. Alas, poor production company. And for shame at leaving in the middle. I do harbour insecurities about not sticking it through, but really... American politics?
Incidentally, and incomprehensibly, there was a horse brought on a little while into the performance. It added absolutely nothing to, well, anything really. I suppose it was merely there to be talked about later, poor thing. 'Did you see that awful American history lesson masquerading as a production? You know, the one with the horse?'
Animal cruelty at its height- being the mascot for a truly mind-numbingly bad play.
Adds a new understanding to the phrase 'even wild horses couldn't hold me back'. This one couldn't hold me back from the exit point.