I won’t deny that I loved it. I really did. I loved it from the bottom of my soppy little romance loving heart. Of course, I also won’t deny that some of it was truly awful. Because that’s true as well. Whatever it may have lacked in style, it certainly made up for in humour and overall sweetness. I would have sat through anything for that one scene at the end. It was so sweet. And yeah, this is going to be about sweetness and adorability far more than it will focus on style or technique or anything that actual theatre critics care about.

I actually hated George for the first half. He was rather flat, entirely unimpressive, and hardly a romantic hero. The second half more than made up for that. He displayed a depth of character which quite frankly astounded me, and some of his speeches were really quite eloquent. And he maybe wasn’t quite so unimpressive.

I’m not sure that I was terribly impressed by his father’s little speech though. I’m not a big believer in fate, and he wouldn’t have convinced me. I’m actually slightly worried about the fact that he convinced Lucy.

In other news, I thought that the violets were admirably done, and that the kiss went on for far too long. I thought the kisses in general weren’t very well done; they were either one extreme or the other. The first one I’ll give them because she’s shocked, he probably can’t believe she hasn’t shapes him yet, and it emphasised how one moment can seem to last forever. The second was awful for a multitude of reasons: she is engaged to another man, which makes him despicable; it is clumsy beyond belief (not that I have any experience but still); and, it was totally inappropriate. Does that count? Maybe.

The third kiss she talked for the first couple of seconds. Again, I’m no expert, but I’m fairly certain you don’t do that.

The final kiss was adorable and I don’t really have anything to say against it, which distresses me far more than is necessary.

Wow. I just wrote an entire paragraph on theatrical kissing. Now there’s something I never expected to write.

Grand Circle seats, while usually crappy, do have their benefits. Namely that I don’t have to see things I don’t want to see. Such as three naked men running across the stage.

Yeah. That was an experience. I wasn’t sure how exactly they were going to have that scene, but I want expecting that! Not in a million years. Bath appears to have redefined short:

Short? Sure…short.

It made it even funnier though later on in the play:

“Have you seen him yet?”


And far too much of him at that.

Those seats truly were a blessing in disguise. I so pity the people in the stalls.

I don’t think I really need to say anything more.

Despite all of my complaining, I did genuinely enjoy it, and if I don’t really want to see it again any time soon, I will definitely be looking up the film, in the hope that it will be equally entertaining.

One last thing:

Afterwards, as we all filed out into the corridor, a certain English teacher was remarking on the various portrayals of love inside the play. That I could have coped with. It was what came next which drove me into insanity. (Of course it isn’t as though I had giggled my way through the love confession (is that the right word? (I’ve been having romance troubles of late-I cannot watch someone confessing their love for another without finding it inexplicably hilarious)). No, that definitely didn’t happen).

There are some things which you never want to hear your teacher say.

Mark but this flea…