Natural Theatre Company tends to specialise in street theatre these days, the type of performance from which unwilling observers can literally walk away. We used to do indoor shows that involved quite a lot of participation for the captive audience. A good performer can usually tell who wants to join in and who is cringing. Some people said we love your shows but we make sure we never sit at the front. So we started to pick on the back row, which was a bit mean.
Despite my propensity for sitting on people’s laps mid-speech, I’d be the one cringing if roles were reversed. And despite giving out all the negative signals I can muster (glaring, shrinking back in seat, crossing arms resolutely across chest, burying head in programme) I’m inevitably picked on.
Anyway, I got my Edinburgh Fringe programme in the post this week. Every year I choose the most cringeworthy items for your delectation, but this year a particularly ghastly theatrical event has caught my eye, one that positively gives me goose pimples of embarrassment just reading about it, let alone attending.
It’s a one-on-one performance called The Pleasure of Being: Washing, Feeding, Holding. The title is a triumph of pretentiousness in itself, but the show involves going to a hotel room on your own, stripping off (pants optional apparently) , being bathed in a luxurious bath, fed white chocolate, wrapped in a fluffy towel and then ‘be cradled in Adrian’s arms for a prolonged period of time.’ Are you throwing up yet?
A review said ‘his giving and enriching energy made me feel perfect and powerful’. Thanks, but no thanks, I reckon I can make myself feel perfect on my own, given enough white chocolate!
Other than that, my choices for the Ralph Award (Ralph as in…) include a modern dance piece about lobotomies (do the dancers move slower and slower?), three different youth productions of Nunsense the Musical, Liberace Live From Heaven starring Bobby Crush and anything with the words ‘powerful drama’ and ‘relationships’ in their potted description (which is nearly everything in the theatre section)
You know, after endless hours of trawling through that gigantic programme, what I really fancy is a nice hot bath and a bit of white chocolate. Do you dare me to buy a ticket?