Adventuring in London

I took myself on a date yesterday, and went to wander London alone. The Oxford Tube (a popular coach company that runs between Oxford and London, with buses leaving every 10-20 minutes throughout the day) had given out 1 pound vouchers at Freshers Fair (an event that will probably require a post of its own -- basically, a HUGE university club fair). An amazing deal, since tickets are normally about 13 pounds for students. The voucher was about to expire, and I had just finished an amazingly stressful week, so I decided to take a break and explore.

(the V&A courtyard)

As tradition dictates (my own tradition, not necessarily the tradition of humanity at large), I started off at Leicester square (after spending two hours reading Virginia Woolf on the bus) and visited the wonderful half-price ticket stands. Most shows were sold out for the day (I had been hoping to see Rain Man, with Josh Hartnett), so I ended up caving, and getting a ground floor ticket to Zorro -- a new show about (you guessed it!) that amazing hero in the black mask.

I then bought myself some coffee (a significant and necessary component for any adventure), and sat on a bench to enjoy.

Then off to the Victoria and Albert Museum, which had been highly recommended by my brother and sister in law. There I saw real samurai armor (Brendan and Thany -- how cool am I?), and an amazing display of fashion development. I also sat by a fountain in a central courtyard, enjoying the gorgeous architecture of the building, and the strange sensation of solitude.

(the V&A courtyard)

And then on to Zorro. What to even say? The stage was amazing. The lighting magnificent. They obviously had a large budget, and a talented artistic director. Some scenes were exquisitely blocked [blocking refers to position and movement on the stage], and visually stunning. So it had a lot of potential. Unfortunately, the acting, singing, and general story line were not very good. Which was hugely unfortunate, given the amazingness of what they were dealing with (how can anyone beat Zorro for style?).

But the dancing! The dancing may have redeemed it regardless. Everything that was true and heartfelt in the entire show was conveyed through the dancing. They weren't just good dancers, they WERE dancers. Movement was in their souls. It was the way they conveyed hate and love and experience and freedom. Dancing was life, and joy, and pain, and reality. It was community and it was power. (And by dancing, I mean that strange and beautiful realm of Spanish dancing, which captured my heart one summer in Minnesota).

I especially loved how dance became synonymous with resistance, especially for the women. They had no power to physically fight injustice, but they could dance. So they did. In one scene, three men are sentenced to death by hanging, and their wives (joined by women from the town) dance their protest, and their pain, beneath the scaffolding. The raw power of this scene, and the wordless vocals used in mourning (reminding me of Beowulf -- hair torn, crying to high heaven), could have made this a phenomenal show. But the creators kept trying to wrestle the script back into a traditional lyric-filled musical format. Which made a bizarre combination of eerie, primal emotion, and broadway-ish cheese.

However, the curtain call was so energetic and passion-filled they had the audience dancing in the aisles. And I was almost tempted to give in, and give them a standing ovation regardless (here's some footage from the experience). Alas, integrity must be upheld.

But the sword-fighting was INTENSE. =)