4747/17406
We took our mildly ill daughter to the theatre for the first time today. Well her first time in the audience. She has already experienced the business that twats call show from the other side, as she appeared on stage at the Norwich Playhouse when she was just 40 days old. But this afternoon was her first experience as an audience member and in spite of not being on top form herself, she really enjoyed it and was quite, well-behaved and attentive for the full 55 minute show. We were at the Lyric Hammersmith to see Father Christmas, based on the books by Raymond Briggs. It was a small cast of Father Christmas (playing himself), a puppeteer playing a cat and dog and other assorted parts, a sound effects lady who sat on a raised platform amusingly and slightly snootily providing noises and radio announcements (the highlight of the show was her disdain at being forced to mimic the plop of Father Christmas’ poo falling into a toilet) and an unseen crew member making the various gizmos and extra puppetry work. It was a well oiled machine and Father Christmas looked genuinely knackered as he delivered presents all over the world, perhaps because the Lyric are working these actors hard and they are doing four or five performances a day.
They did a cracking job and it’s an important one too. You might feel like letting your head drop on the third performance of the day, but you have to be aware that the future of theatre rests (partially) on your shoulders. If these kids are going to want to come back again and see the theatre as a fun thing to do, then you have to give them the time of their lives, but the show needs to work on a lot of levels if it is going to keep babies, 6 year olds and parents entertained. So congratulations to all involved as they succeeded. The older kids sitting nearby were loving it and Phoebe, though she is unaware of who Father Christmas is, or indeed what theatre is, followed the action and was rapt, placing a concerned hand on my knee if anything a bit weird happened, enjoying the puppets and noises and the imaginative staging. And I liked the poo jokes and Father Christmas nearly spilling his presents over us and the miraculous appearance of Santa’s sleigh in this tiny studio theatre and just sharing this experience with my family for the first time. The real testament is that Phoebe got through this in spite of her cold and when she wasn’t very well. So kudos to everyone involved.
We had some drinks and over priced nuts afterwards. Christmas has begun.
