So, by the grace of my job, I do get to go to some wonderful events. Yesterday, I was at the announcement of the stage play of Breakfast At Tiffany's which will have Anna Friel in the leading role of Holly GoLightly.
A couple of Chambord and champagne cocktails and all was going well, until they started the speeches. And I suddenly felt like a communist who'd walked into the plans for Adolf Hitler's Beer Hall Putsch.
Now, okay, I'm willing to admit some snobbery on my part, but when you hear people who more or less control the theatre world proving how little they really know about the genre as a whole, and leading on from that how the majority of people are being spoon fed shit from idiots, then it really starts to get your goat.
Speaker number one comes up- the co-producer.
"... and yes, it was me who first put Beckett in the West End, proving that something obscure and contemporary can be appreciated."
Oh yeah... Really? Obscure? The play of which a film was made starring Peter O' Toole?
The play which launched and inspired hundreds upon hundreds of of wonderful cutting edge theatre?
The play that's on curriculum's everywhere?
The play by one of the most famous Irish playwrights of the last centruy?
The play that's over fucking 50 years old? Contemporary?
At this point, I was midly miffed, and wanted to scream at him, "Why not put on 'Blasted' by Sarah Kane and really challenge people to fucking think, you tosser."
But it didn't end there. The writer comes up to speak and says:
"It's an adaptation of the book..."
Right. So no Hollywood ending.
"And as iconic as the film is, we just wanted it to be something different."
Right. So no Hollywood ending.
"And what we want to stress is this is a different entity taken from the book that Capote wrote."
OKAY JEEZ FOR FUCK'S SAKE! We get it- there's no Hollywood ending. Just say to people, "Sorry- there's no teary ending where George Pepard runs off with Audrey Hepburn."
Except, I look around the room at all these gleeful, expectant faces who have absolutely no fucking clue, because no-one's bothered to read it in their lives and I have this niggling thing at the back of my head that knows they'll watch it and be disappointed. Well no- they won't- they'll shell out £40 for their seats and be placated by brainless crap.
"The musical crowd aren't going to be happy because there's only a few songs in it..."
A few? A few? Hell, we all remember Moon River, but when the fuck did Holly GoLightly start singing and dancing around? I think they're getting confused with that other movie that Audrey Hepburn was in.
"..but hopefully people will respect its intelligent" Burn in hell
"...witty..." I really, really want to ask you some challenging questions on theatre right now but I'll keep quiet
"intelligent storyline" You've already said intelligent you brainless fuck
Okay, I am miffed because the area of performance I work in is very niche, but its establishments and institutions like these that make it impossible for live art to thrive. If people could make more informed decisions on what they wanted to see instead of being told 'what theatre is' then I'm sure it would lead to a livelier artistic community with increased diversity.
I'm not trying to be a snob... what annoys me is that these people control the theatre world. They control the money and they control what people see. West End theatre is not really art- it's rehashed ideas with a lot of money behind them. And the sad thing is it continues to be a world of safe bets where no one is challenged.
Added to this, I'm surprised more people aren't angry that they're being treated like a nation of idiots. A nation that can't handle anything too risky or upsetting. And to me it's an insult to our collective intelligence. If people remain unchallenged, things remain the same. How can we ever evolve the arts scene if we're just producing the same stuff en masse?
Something really needs to change.
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I feel Truman Capote gets royally screwed a lot of the time. Breakfast At Tiffany's is probably his most famous work (arguably, next to In Cold Blood), but very few people could tell you the actual plot without using the words 'Audrey Hepburn', 'George Pepard' or 'Moon River'. It's a shame because it's a bloody good little story that takes about 40 minutes to read. It's dark and mysterious and wrenching. Whilst the film is a fantastic film and I have 3 copies and untold amounts of merchandise, it just isn't Breakfast At Tiffany's. I sort of hoped the play would be. The mention of musical numbers makes me think probably not. In the words of dear ol' Truman, "Call girls don't sing!"
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