Tuesday, April 17, 2012

The extraordinary privilege tonight of seeing The Strange Undoing of Prudencia Hart at its mothership venue, the Ghillie Dhu, with a pack of 65 students from Telford in the audience.

The hall seats about 80 or 90 maybe, cabaret style. And it only dawned on me at the interval that I, in my dotage, was in the distinct minority. As the place was packed with The Young, a handful of their tutors and a sparse scattering of the general public.

I've tried to see this show four times.

When it first came to Edinburgh early last year. I let down everyone by being too late to get tickets.

I failed to get advance tickets last Fringe and queued up x2 times for returns. Failed both times despite long hot waits.

I tried to lure people down to the dark Border lands to see it. Only to discover tickets didn't and didn't and didn't go on sale.

And then - huzzah! - x2 precious extra dates added for Cari Silver's venue of shame. The Ghillie Dhu.

All worth the wait. The show bore all the hallmarks of. Pause. Davie Greig at his best.

Cracking music. Stupendously natural acting. And they must have been hauling this show round the provinces for getting on for a year and a half now. A magic site-specific enough to delight me staging. And a deliciously effervescent story.

A getting on for perfect production.

The Young were transfixed. I was torn between being transfixed by the show. And being transfixed by The Young being transfixed by the show.

And at the final bars of - well, I won't tell you what - let's just say the final song, The Young went nuts.

Standing ovations all round.

Just so.


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