A Night At The Theatre

I saw a production of Shakespeare in the park yesterday evening. Specifically, it was at Griffith Park here in Los Angeles. A good friend tipped me off to it, and I was not about to pass up some culture outdoors for free. I tore myself away from some terribly compelling stuff going on around my computer and got on the train to my friend's place, from which we would head off to the park after fortifying ourselves with snacks.

The play was well attended, and the whole affair was run in a smooth, professional fashion. I feared that people might not be especially well behaved, particularly if they had been as successful in transgressing the policy against liquor as we had, but I found that everyone was about as eager to see the play without interruption as we were. The night went unmarred, and we were able to have ourselves a fine time.

The play was Macbeth, which I had middling success in remembering to call the Scottish play while we were in the difficult-to-define confines of the performance space. They performed a fairly brisk version running some two hours and ten minutes with an intermission after a bit more than an hour. All the key stuff seemed to be there, not that I'm such a student of it all that I'd notice anything but the worst of omissions.

When it was done with I was entirely pleased. We all had a good time, but I was alone in the group in feeling compelled to volunteer a donation to the theater company who'd put on the show. I know I would have felt badly if I hadn't made at least a token donation (and indeed a token one was all I could manage). I like to think that I can call myself a patron of the arts. I just hope they don't track me down looking for more.