17 days since my last post. Big number! Big number! Two big! During that time, I’ve written a first draft of a play *drops mic*, survived on coffee and instant noodles, and only read one book. I should have been writing essays, learning Spanish, and reading books relevant to my A-Levels, but it’s okay because not only do I have 24 pages under my belt, but also the ability to sing along to Shakira’s Bicicleta.
I’m also angry because of Emma Rice’s departure from the Globe. This isn’t even my default state of mild irritation, it’s proper ‘I will happily burn stuff for you’ anger. If you didn’t know, Emma Rice is set to leave London’s Globe in April 2018, following only two seasons as artistic director. Apparently, this is due to some bull about lighting, according to the Globe’s board. And! I! Am! Angry!
Before Rice’s appointment, I had no interest in the Globe. In all honesty, I didn’t actually know that you could see plays there – I thought that it was just a museum. Bored the pants off me – I nabbed a free ticket to go on one of the tours, and found a seagull crapping into the Thames more stimulating. The only good thing to come out of the tour was the fact that I caught a glimpse of a Macbeth tech rehearsal and Rice herself. Luckily I then saw Rice’s Dream (a riotous, joyful production with funky music and funky fashion, for crying out loud – go watch it on iPlayer) and the Globe was so much more than just a space. It was alive. Even her appointment itself excited me; there are very few female artistic directors in charge of major theatres, and as someone looking into working in that industry, Emma Rice and her colourful mind is one of my role models. But no. The board have now decided that they’d prefer to pay homage to the puritans and the tourists, charging ridiculous prices to gander at a building and watch a man in tights play a convincing Juliet.
Hey, if they want to return to the 16th Century, maybe they can make prostitution socially acceptable whilst at it, as a back up if the whole theatre director thing doesn’t work out for me.
Prostitution would still probably pay more.
Thanks for putting up with me. I had to post about this, because whenever I go on a theatre-based rant my friends just look at me and back away. I’ll be back to the books tomorrow!