Darlings, sometimes a gift horse should be looked in the mouth. Several weeks ago, this strange woman, whom I had never seen--a witch, or fairy sprite, maybe, as the case may be--walks up to me with two free tickets to this play called "Jerusalem." This was not on my theatrical radar, though I was well aware of it. The London critics acted like it was the Second Coming. So I took the tickets, and Monsieur and I went Friday. And while it was not the three hours--which is how long it is!!!!!!--disaster I was dreading, it was no masterpiece. The performance was better than a play which takes a long time to tell the obvious.
Mark Ryland, in a tour de force role, plays a hedonistic individual who has abandoned social conventions for an indulgent life in a trailer in a British forest primeval, where he hangs out with a bunch of drugged out teens and hangers-on, who think he is great, like J.D. Salinger. Ho hum. They go back and forth in endless diatribes, till we learn how truly screwed up he is.
Couldn't they have done this in two and a half hours, instead of three?
Rylalnd and Company work hard, but to what effect????? The scenes are intense-complete with a fairy sprite that tries to work in the legend of St George and English folklore, but who cares??????????? If the actors were not so skilled this would have been a mess.
Monsieur was not impressed. I was, a little more, darlings, but I cannot in good conscience, recommend this to my girls!!!!!!!!!! Go to 'Priscilla', loves!!!!!!!!!!!
And let me tell you, you TONY Committee bitches, if you give this the Best Play Award, I will kick my foot through the goddamn television!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Kiss my ass, "Jerusalem!" You are trash masquerading as high art, and you don't fool me a bit!
As if I could be fooled, darlings.
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