summer Foolishness

Once upon a time, there were three women who planned to attend A Company of Fools' Torchlight Shakespeare presentation of Henry V on Tuesday, August 7.  However, one of the women received the rare opportunity to take a paid vacation, the dates of which happened to include that night.  Then there were two.

So on the evening of August 7, one Julie drove to the other Julie's home to pick her up and head over to a park in Bells Corners.  The two Julies set up their chairs with a prime view of centre stage.  The one Julie spotted her neighborhood friend across the rows and called her over.  The other Julie ran to retrieve a second chair from her car.  They managed to scootch over and squeeze in the friend who shall not be named.  (Her name might have been Phyllis; j'ai oubliée.)  They waited with bated breath:  they were ready to be entertained.

Then came the rain.  The actors waited a few minutes to see if it would let up a bit.  It did let up.  For all of a minute.  Then it started to rain with greater gusto.  When their GPS predicted lightning on its way, the Fools cancelled.  So much for "rain or shine"!  The audience dispersed.  The Julies decided perhaps it had been a wise decision, because their camp chairs made better buckets than seats.

All three women hastened back to the car, where one Julie proceeded to pull out not one, not two, but exactly three garbage bags from the trunk (stowed there weeks before, for another purpose entirely), for all to sit on so the car seats wouldn't be soaked.  She drove the other two home, and then drove home herself.  A soggy, sorry end to what began as a promising evening.

*****

So ten days later I decided to try again.  I'd got the car for the day, and James and I had planned to stop at Hazeldean Mall after I picked him up at work, because a sports store was holding a liquidation sale.  I was looking for new runners for the gym (and possibly weightlifting gloves).  I'd persuaded him we'd go to Henry V at Andrew Haydon Park afterwards.  A friend contacted me, wanting to get out and about at some point over the weekend, so I invited her along.  She'd originally wanted to go to Torchlight Shakespeare with me, and she was interested to look around the sports store.

To make a long story short, I got my runners (no gloves to be had); the three of us had supper at the mall (some stir fry place James likes to frequent for lunch some weekdays); and we passed a lovely evening in the park.  The sun's setting a bit earlier these days, and the evenings are cooler than they were a couple of weeks ago; still, the clouds had golden linings in the coral sunset, and the Ottawa River ran its azure course in the background.  There's also a delightful water fountain along the walking path, and the Nepean Sailing Club was visible in the distance, too.  (The geese and seagulls were a bit intimidating, though, flying so close overhead.  We had to watch not to set up our chairs in goose droppings.)

The actors were accomplished, no doubt.  Yet still there were certain scenes that lagged.  I mean, I think most people would agree that Shakespearean English is difficult to comprehend at the best of times, but doubly so when there's little or no action to convey the meaning.  I pondered how much I had in common with the commoners/"groundlings" of the audience in Shakespeare's day:  I became impatient when Henry sat on a trunk speechifying, but enrapt when the puppets, hobbyhorses, Gumby & Pokey, and tennis balls emerged.  Every audience member was handed a Nerf or Nerf-like tennis ball to fling at the offending French army upon the king's command.

It was fun, and I'm glad we went, although I personally preferred last year's Antony and Cleopatra.  But who can resist the lure of Shakespeare in the great outdoors?  Not me!