A local company was brave enough to open a production of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? last weekend, and I attended with trepidation remembering the last time I saw this difficult-to-perform play and wound up exiting at intermission...the first one, as there are two. Yawn.
Well, what a difference from my previous experience! I am not saying that the actors were Taylor and Burton, but they were amazing and I watched their mesmerizing performances with my dropped jaw almost reaching my lap.
I know from my limited stage experience that fisticuffs are carefully choreographed, but when an actor hits the stage with a noisy thud, it's gotta hurt. And there was a lot of physical contact going on among the four actors. The dialogue was equally astounding: shouting, overlapping lines, spit flying, the whole ball of wax... almost too real, with heart wrenching pathos at the play's end. It was so intimate and overpowering, I felt like I was intruding.
The actors must have been totally exhausted after curtain calls. I know I was; and all I had to do was sit there and gape at the human eruption happening in front of me, making the discordant family scenes in my memory bank seem like a visit with The Brady Bunch. Whew.