Dickinson College Humanities Program in Norwich

In Fox’s “Watching the English” she examines the English use of the word ‘sorry.’ The final conclusion is that English people will say ‘sorry’ even if you bump directly into them. While she is careful to say that this does not necessarily make the English more polite than other cultures, she fails to examine it from a perspective that I consider very important (because I’m soft and easily offended and also quite sensitive.) I, for one, do not particularly appreciate the ‘sorry’ that one receives when one bumps into a passerby. I feel bad, I usually say something like, “oh, no, it’s fine, my bad.” This sentiment, though, is rather ridiculous, because when I turn to tell them it is not a big deal they are long gone and completely oblivious. This is not what offends me though. It is that when someone runs straight into me, I get the same half-hearted sorry! They didn’t mean sorry in the first example, which is fine, but in the second one they clearly don’t mean it either! So here I am, walking to the tube, I’ve got a backpack, my “London A-Z” out, and some bozo comes flying around the end, nearly sending me sprawling, knocking my aviator shades (which, by the way, were designed in Italy) off my head. And what do I get, as this hurried Londoner rushes by? The same little ‘saw-ree’ that Lawrence Taylor would receive , if he, in a cocaine induced rage, blindsided an elderly woman. In the end, all the Brits should truly be sorry for, is that they’re not sorry.

In my home I was raised to be unafraid to go to new places and try new foods, things, etc. Usually that has included going to places that are not necessarily in accordance with my social-economic class in the states. We just bring out our best clothes, proper manners, and the green and we are welcomed in. So I was completely astonished, and baffled in a sense when I experienced firsthand the clear cut class division in London. I particularly felt it when a couple of us went inside Harrod’s, which is perhaps the most expensive store in England.

Harrod’s, if you don’t know much about it, is currently owned by Qatar Investment Authority (QIA) a company whose worth is at $60 Billion. Harrod’s, however, was first founded in 1849 by Charles Henry Harrod making it the oldest and biggest high-end department store still in existence. ( For a more detailed history on Harrod’s visit http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/10103783)

A group of five from my program ventured into Harrod’s after making our way to Hyde Park. The stores geographic location is just a couple blocks away from a little place called Buckingham Palace, perhaps you have heard of it.  The exterior of the Harrod’s building is very palatial, I even wondered if it was a state palace or something of the sort because it flies about 35 flags from around the world on its roof. I was soon corrected by my friend Pat, that the building I was staring at was none other than one of the most exclusive shops in the world. As we walked into this so called Harrod’s it became immediately apparent that this shop was made of money and produces a lot of money. In a sense it reminded me of going into the Belagio and Mandalay Bay hotel’s in Las Vegas, therefore it didn’t impress me so much.  Unlike the Belagio or the Mandalay Bay what became increasingly apparent was the discrimination that occurred by the employees of Harrod’s to people/ customers within the store. I have never before in my life been blatantly ignored like I was last week. The employees literally took one look at me and my clothing and turned away as if I didn’t exist. It felt very odd, horrible, and vicious all rolled into one feeling.  I stopped by the men’s shoes section just to gage the prices within this exclusive store, and to my amazement the simple looking loafer I picked up cost £850, in American terms that’s roughly $1,270 for a pair of shoes. Now if your eyes popped out at that figure do you imagine mine when standing in a room full of those prices? I know I don’t understand the concept of being rich because I have never been rich, but it really sickens me to see such pretentiousness just to show your higher status amongst the community.

So after I had this horrible encounter with wealth I decided to look into just who exactly works in Harrod’s and why do they feel that they have the right to look past me? To my surprise these sales associates win the same exact salary as sales associates in Macy’s or Nordstrom from back home in the states. They win roughly about $24,000 a year.(http://www.harrodscareers.com/page/benefits_and_rewards)  It amazes me that even the people who clearly are not part of that social economic circle feel that they have a granted right to treat others the same way they are treated. If there is one conclusion from this entire experience it is that I will never understand how wealth is equated to respect and the right to abuse people. People who genuinely believe in these two traits have a completely wrong way of looking at life.

While watching 39 Steps, I was particularly struck by the British quality the play. I should first say that I thought that the play was brilliant. It was funny, inviting, featured brilliant directing and acting, and was unlike I had anything I had seen in theatre before.

It was innovative in many ways (at least, to me). The use of intentional mistake, such as the delayed ringing of the telephone, the late entry of the professor, the female hostess having to kick the fireplace to make it roar, etc. endears the viewer to the play, and the cast. With a cast of four, the audience was obviously aware that different characters were played by the same actors – a risky, but in the end, incredibly successful strategy. The talent required and involved in pulling off such a play with only 4 actors made it a hilarious experience, especially when an actor had to play multiple characters in the same scene. Many of the chase scenes, or most of the danger, such as when Hannay is dodging the airplanes, or climbing across bridges, and so on and so forth, always looked silly. The death of the professor, the absurd throwing of the body on to the stage renders a potentially dramatic and tragic scene hilarious. All of the above examples demonstrate the “importance of not being earnest” rule that Fox emphasizes in her text (62). I particularly enjoyed the use of multiple hats, or two sided costumes, which can call into question the legitimacy of character and identity in drama. This risk taking, in my opinion, was really reflective of what Rick was talking about: the greater freedom West-End theatre/directors have, and how it can be used to produce a much more fun play to watch.

The play also featured many staple aspects of British sociological culture, prescribed by Fox in Watching the English. Understatement (see pg. 66) made its most obvious appearance right before intermission: Hannay is shot in the chest, the audience thinks him dead, and his only response: “Booga.” As previously seen in The Merry Wives of Windsor, the poor Scots are again mocked for their accent (which is quite exaggerated, as is the German accent?), reinforcing the British obsession for their own particular accent, as speech is considered “all important” (82). As much of our class has noticed, the overuse of “sorry” in the English lexicon is satirized (following the importance of not being earnest, and the love of hypocrisy) in most notably, the train scene as passengers infinitely apologize. Other staple phrases in the play include “carry on” and “stay calm,” a not-so-distant relative of the ubiquitous “keep calm and carry on.”

Other particularly English qualities of the play include the speech that Hannay is thrust into. With nothing to draw on except creativity, he resorts to a favorite idea of the British: fair play (407). This uniting idea draws applause from the crowd and he pulls it off. Politeness’ importance (407) is also emphasized in the play, where after the fight in the bog, Hannay sincerely says “bless you” to the opponent’s sneeze. The potentially sexy but instead amusingly awkward hotel room scene is reflective not only of how uncomfortable the British are with sex but also the men failing as flirts (327, 328). Though Hannay is handsome with his “brown, wavy hair,” he can’t seal the deal (at least until later).

Well, 39 Steps is clearly influenced by British culture. However, two token aspects of British culture I felt were missing: class and imperialism. Imperialism makes a small appearance right at the beginning, but then is absent, as is class. Perhaps these two issues (specifically Imperialism) would make the play too serious. Or, they could satirize it (again, imperialism), typical of British culture.

Do you think it’d be inappropriate to satirize such a serious breach of human rights, specifically in a comedic manner?

When President Durden asked us whether we had seen any aspects of London that changed our views of what we want from life, I, like many others, thought of the fantastic access to the arts here. This has been manifested for me in all of the free museums and especially in the reasonable prices of theatre tickets on the West End. I came to London knowing that I wanted to go the theatre as much as possible, and I set aside a significant portion of my meager summer earnings (unpaid internship–ouch) for that purpose. I’ve been lucky enough to see five shows in London so far: The Merry Wives of Windsor, Billy Elliot, Bedlam, Les Miserables, and The 39 Steps.  Although I sat in the very back row of the theatre for Les Mis and had a railing in my line of sight during Billy Elliot, I was able to purchase tickets for twenty pounds and twenty-seven pounds, respectively. If I tried to see so many shows, especially big name musicals, in the States, I would probably have no money left, so that’s been really fantastic.

I’m fairly predisposed to like theatre productions (I kind of enjoyed Bedlam, actually), but since hearing Rick Fisher speak I’ve started to evaluate the nature of the shows that I’ve seen differently, especially the two musicals. Les Miserables and Billy Elliot both draw in a lot of tourists, but I had very different reactions to these two shows. Les Mis is an epic show; there’s no other way to say it. It’s full of famous numbers that showcase the performers’ abilities to belt out big choruses and really high notes, one song after another. There are incredible set pieces and dramatic lighting cues up the wazoo. It’s an extremely showy piece. I don’t want to call it glitzy because so much of the drama comes from the violent deaths of various characters, but I think that it’s very aware of what audiences want. This is not a bad thing at all, and it certainly seems to have worked for the production. Personally, though, I found it hard to connect with the emotion of the show because I was just waiting for the next show-stopping number and Rick Fisher’s voice was in the back of my head. I thought that it was indulgent and Hollywood-esque, and once or twice I thought, “So these are a bunch of British actors performing in a show that aks me to glorify France…what?” I had trouble connecting with the show, although I did enjoy it.

Part of my reaction may have stemmed from the fact that I had just seen Billy Elliot, which I absolutely fell in love with. Unlike Les Mis, Billy Elliot doesn’t focus on showstoppers so much. I didn’t feel like it was trying to be anything that it wasn’t–it was a more honest story. Although it doesn’t have the violence of Les Mis, it’s a grittier play because there aren’t gorgeous sets or big songs for performers to belt out. The show focuses more on telling the story at hand, the story of a young boy struggling to be himself amidst the coal strikes in northern Engalnd during the Thatcher era. Because it wasn’t as pretty as Les Mis, I thought that the emotions communicated in Billy Elliot were more raw and easier to conncet with, to the point that I shed some tears during a few points in the performance. 

The honesty that I loved in Billy Elliot was definitely embodied in this afternoon’s performance of The 39 Steps, which I loved.  To work as a spoof, the show had to be completely aware of where it was coming from, and it also couldn’t pretend to be anything bigger than it was. I thought that the show successfully took on not only the Hitchcock movie, but also theatre and Englishness in general. It was almost as though Kate Fox was consulted on the rules of Englishness while the play was being adapted. Think of the two men in the train who were constantly saying, “‘Scuse me, sorry! Sorry, ‘scuse me!”  The entire show was about being able to laugh at oneself and at the national character. Based on Kate Fox’s descriptions, I thought that it was just so English. And we saw it in a beautiful, intimate theatre, which definitely contributed to the atmosphere. I thought that it was hilarious and very well-performed.

So, Les Mis disciples, please don’t hate me because I really enjoyed that show, but I found the emotional and/or comedic honesty of the other two shows more easily accessible.

Gordon Square (personal photo)

The accessibility of art in London has been on my mind lately. This isn’t just because we’ve been going to free art museums a few times a week since we’ve been here, and because we’ve gotten cheap theater tickets to see fabulous productions. Some other reasons to consider commitment to art accessibility as an integral part of London’s identity, for me, include the architecture (I don’t care what A.N. Wilson says), artworks on the Tube, the quality music we hear from auditioned buskers on the street, and, of course, the public parks.

So far in London, I’ve spent time in Regents’ Park (right down the street from us), Kensington Gardens, Hyde Park, St. James’s Park, Gordon Square and Tavistock Square/Peace Park. These spaces are radically different from each other – they range from wide open green fields to carefully manicured gardens to the small squares of Bloomsbury, veritable oases in the midst of the road rage and jackhammers we’ve gotten so used to. When life in the Arran House gets a little crowded, or when museum after museum starts to overwhelm me, I’m finding that a long walk in the park – just me and my iPod – is exactly what I need. And it doesn’t seem like I’m alone in that, either – literally, there are always other people, and when it comes to Regents or St. James, huge crowds of other people, enjoying the parks along with me.

Regents Park (personal photo)

So, yes, parks in London are pretty, and they’re frequent (and museums are big), but I think there’s more to it than that. When we look at these parks in conjunction with the free art museums and cheap theater tickets and Tube murals and buskers, I think a pattern emerges that’s really important to London’s identity: beauty should be accessible and egalitarian. It’s a priority to London’s budget that there should be green spaces and gardens in the middle of the busy city, to give us some relief from the fast pace. I know I appreciate it; it makes London liveable. Queen Victoria recognized this when she opened up Hyde Park to the public – so the laborers would have an escape from the suffocating smog, somewhere pleasant to go. London’s not the Dickensian hell-hole it was during the Victorian era, certainly, but I think the same logic holds today, and I think appreciating London’s public parks are key to appreciating the art and beauty that make this city so special.

St. James's Park (personal photo)

I think that some of my favorite activities we’ve done since we’ve been here have been our day trips to Bath, Oxford, and Stratford.  I don’t think I could ever live in a city permanently; the crowds, the chaos, the push and shove hustle and bustle in London would definitely be too stressful for me to handle on a long term basis.  Driving through the countryside on our way to our destinations was a refreshing break for me, and was much more reminiscent of home than our lives in the city.  Below is a picture I took through the bus window on our way home from Bath.

There are several key differences I have observed between London and the smaller cities of Bath, Oxford, and Stratford.  Let’s begin with visuals.  First is a picture I took from halfway up to the  top of Bath Abbey looking out over Bath.  Next is a picture I took from the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral looking out over London.

Striking difference, isn’t it?  The first major difference I noticed is illustrated by these pictures.  London is extremely chaotic, with Gothic churches next to modern office buildings next to museums next to hotels created in Georgian architecture next to parks with no particular rhyme or reason and  no grid pattern to the streets.  Each of the smaller cities we visited seemed planned.  The streets were laid out in straight lines; coming back from the church to the bus in Stratford we were easily able to just reverse our steps and when John said that the coach was straight down this block, it actually was straight, and the name of the street stayed the same all the way down.  Houses were grouped with houses and businesses with businesses.  You can see this in my photo from Bath – nice rows of houses on the horizon.  Finally, each city seemed to have a unifying theme.  In Bath, it is the distinctively colored Bath Stone.  In Oxford, it is the many colleges.  In Stratford, it is the Tudor architecture and the fact that all the streets, hotels, and pubs are named after something Shakespearean.  (You could argue that that last theme is a bit kitsch, but still, it is a theme.)

You can also see from the pictures that the buildings in Bath are a lot shorter than the buildings in London.  In Bath, the tallest feature is a spire, like it used to be in London.  In London, the skyscrapers on the horizon, each one striving to be taller than the last, demonstrates the individualistic capitalism and commercialism that has touched this city more than others.  Our day trips have reminded me how London truly is the financial and cultural capital of the world, a place which draws people, a place where things always have to be happening.  Bath, Oxford and Stratford seem to be less touched by this globalized commercialism.  I did spot a Ben and Jerry’s in Bath, but I did not see Starbucks and KFC’s on every corner like we do in London.

I think that a slower pace of life and a greater appreciation for people goes hand in hand with the softened touch of commercialism in the smaller cities. I think  a good example of this contrast is seen by comparing busking in Bath and London.  From what I learned from our tour guide in the Bath Abbey, the buskers have their own kind of community.  In Bath, you don’t need a license to perform in the streets, but you are only allowed to stay in the same place for one hour before you have to move 50 metres down the street.  The buskers regulate this themselves; they form their own queues and rotations for different spots throughout the city.  In London, buskers need a license, and they are assigned a specific spot and specific time to perform.  It is doubtful that many of them know each other or even cross paths.  Furthermore, in Bath, people sit around the squares and actually listen to the busker perform for the entire half hour or hour he is there.  In the London Underground, people always hurry right past the performers, barely noticing them.    In the smaller cities, I felt like there were actually people, as opposed to the anonymous mass we have observed in London.

Personally, I prefer the smaller towns and cities to London, but they are not without their disadvantages.  Obviously, there is not as much diversity to be found in the smaller cites, nor are there are many opportunities for arts and museums as there are in London.

A problem with the argument I have made in this post is that the three smaller cities we’ve gone to have also been very touristy cities.  Although I feel as though the observations I have made are accurate,  I recognize that they are limited by the presence of tourists queuing for attractions and buying gifts in gift shops.  I am excited to move to Norwich, a less touristy town and one in which we will actually get to participate in the communitiy, to see if my observations hold true.

A few days ago, I took a stroll through one of London’s finest acres of greenery, St. James Park.   As to be expected with any of London’s parks, St. James was gorgeous.    A quintessentially English garden, St. James consists overgrown grasses, a long serpentine lake and plentiful randomized outcroppings of shrubs, bushes and trees in place of bright flowers and orderly manicured rows of plants typical of the English picturesque movement of the late 18^th Century.

Typically, gardens of the latter variety exist on the continent, where gardens, such as the famous gardens of Versailles and many others, exhibit the ornate, extravagant qualities of brightly coloured flowers placed in neat rows and circles.  The picturesque movement moved away from this doctrine and is seen throughout St. James.  In the park’s overgrown grasses and serpentine lake, a random, natural effect is created emblemizing the picturesque’s primary goal of replicating nature; an upholding of nature’s wilderness and natural beauty over the patterns and uniformity of continental gardens.

This is not to say, however, that St. James is not just as meticulously groomed as the gardens of Versailles.  St. James random look intended to replicate nature is neither easily accomplished nor maintained.  Countless effort goes into St. James Park by its numerous caretakers, as is true with all English gardens.  At the entrance to every one of London’s parks or green squares, there is a key to the garden demonstrating precisely the garden architect’s intent for the park and which areas contain which types of greenery.

However, there is a sense of hypocrisy to the picturesque.  With the effort that goes into making the park look natural, it is still a manmade area and not even the most gifted of garden architects can escape that fact.  St. James’ long winding serpentine lake may appear natural, but if one looks at the banks, they would see the concrete walls that enclose it, blatantly marking it an object of man’s creation.

Perhaps the picturesque quality of St. James and countless other gardens, both public and at the homes of the English, is another example of Kate Fox’s English hypocrisy.  The English seem to enjoy the idea of walking amidst untouched nature and seem willing to ignore the fact that their parks are endlessly manicured to achieve its natural look.  Either way, after spending a glorious afternoon within the park’s beautiful acres, I’m not complaining.

So far we’ve visited several cathedrals and chapels of the Church of England, a Hindu temple, a Sunni mosque, and a synagogue, and as far as I can tell, Christianity seems to be the only dying religion in England. To be fair, I’ve only visited really famous cathedrals and they’re bound to be turned into museums because of their history, but regardless, church attendance in England, belief in a God: way down. I’ve been racking my brain to figure out why, and I think the best I can do is work through a few of the commonalities among all the holy places I’ve seen.

The temple, the mosque, and the synagogue all emphasized their connections to the community and the multi-functionality of their buildings when we visited. In fact, at the mosque, the man we spoke to said “children come to play and then to pray,” suggesting that a multi-purpose building keeps the religion thriving. But at St. Paul’s our tour guide said that prior to the Great Fire, church had become “run down” because it was being used for multiple purposes (markets, dentist, etc), so the argument works in both directions and doesn’t really get us anywhere.

The temple, the mosque, and the synagogue speakers also took extreme pains to emphasize the bridging of religions, especially to Christianity. All three mentioned their interfaith programs between different religions, including the cathedrals (even though none of the chapels or cathedrals made any mention of the other faiths they were connected to and working with). The non-Christian religions also made special efforts to explain their religions in relation to Christianity, in some cases understating differences in favor of finding common ground. I know some people felt this was a defensive move and a watering down, but I understood it as an emphasis on bridging differences. The speakers expected a Christian audience, and each one mentioned Jesus as an important figure, even from Hinduism, which is a non-Abrahamic religion (it doesn’t come from the same branch as the other three). The best explanation I can think of for this is that Christianity, as the official dominant religion, even if it’s unofficially dying, can take itself for granted because of its connection to imperialism. All other faiths must places themselves in coordination with the colonizer, but the Church of England, as an official religion does not have a stake in getting along. It belongs here and need not please anyone else. (I’m speaking in terms of practicality. There are plenty of other more altruistic reasons for getting along.)

All four faiths also emphasize the importance of their religious history, the history of their specific holy building, and their place in it. Weirdly, this seemed to strengthen identity for some, and weaken it for others. Jewish history, as a group in diaspora, is such a uniting force that it allows for an entire Jewish culture and identity that complements the religion. Christian history seems to obscure it. Instead of learning about Christianity at the chapels and cathedrals, we treated it like a museum, viewing artifacts. I again want to attribute this to imperialism. Groups who live under the threat of obliteration hold their roots tighter. Even though the Protestants and Catholics have been intermittently persecuted, Christianity has been associated with England for quite a while, and England is not in danger of going anywhere.

I also noticed that all the non-Christian faiths emphasized the fact that they were not evangelical. While they aim to teach others about their faith, they do not actively convert, while active evangelism is an important part of Christianity (most orthodox sects). It seems like an interesting coincidence that England, an imperial nation that converts other nations to Englishness, would be attracted to a religion that converts followers (Ironically, the opposite seems to be happening). Christianity can easily be transformed into a tool for imperialism. Maybe that perversion coupled with the expectation that it will just always be there is what has caused its downfall.

So the other night a few students and myself went out to grab a quick dinner and a pint following our alumni event, as the “Honey I Shrunk the Salmon Cakes” hors d’oevres could not fill our gullets for the night.  Donned in dapper suits and freshly purchased genuine leather kicks, we set out to find our destination.  Our first interaction with a Brit came in the form of a toothless, homeless woman with dreadlocks.  She approached us, our eyes met with hers and she approached us rather briskly, uttered some kind of local gibberish which we all interpreted to be “do you have any spare change?”.  One student obliged as the rest walked onward, glad to have escaped the incredibly awkward situation.  We came back from it, discussed it a little bit and walked on.  Upon finding the ideal pub, we sat down and sipped on our local brew, chatting and recapping the passing day.  Soon we had our second interaction; a homeless man with a torn shirt asked us for money.  One student offered him a little bit, the man mumbled something to himself, and he slammed the coin back on the table and walked on.  We were shocked, but the madness continued.  A third woman (who was far more well dressed mind you) walked up to us and explained how somehow her inability to get a bus pass meant that one of us had to give her a sip of our beer.  After a bit of debate with her (I gave her the germaholic excuse), she just nodded and walked on.

So what do these 3 interactions mean?  We discussed how the fact that we were all dressed in suits clearly had some impact on the surrounding Brit’s conceptions of our class status, since they seem to value appearance quite a bit in what we have seen so far.  I have to admit we were getting some looks from Brits other than the homeless population while we wandered the streets.  So clearly, we had people convinced we were some sort of businessmen judged by the first look.  Why then was this slew of impoverished people so willing to approach us and ask us for their money?  Maybe it has something to do with the fake politeness we have discussed concerning the Brits.  How far can politeness go though?  Do homeless people only go after the people they think can afford to give away a little money?  It could be that these class systems are so defined but have such big extremes that the lowest of the low may only think to ask the top dogs if they could spare it, sine they can read people so well that they wouldn’t think to ask anyone that wouldn’t afford a few extra pence.  What about the guy who rejected our offer?  He acted as if we were being smug to give him only 10 or 20 pence.  Maybe he had labeled us so that he thought we could afford more.  But then what happens to the idea of fake politeness?  This beggar rejected our offer of money, which wasn’t exactly the most polite of actions.  Don’t even get me started on the girl who only wanted to swipe a sip of our beer.  I can’t imagine that would be a polite thing to even ask.  There is no way that this politeness deal can only work from the top down.  The mystery of the British people continues to unravel…

image from: http://www.google.co.uk/imgres?imgurl=http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt107/1cafekko/soSadohitsasiggy.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.myspace.com/flick024&usg=__psJXwKxdeTiFNn1uwGOk3Uuoj1A=&h=350&w=468&sz=29&hl=en&start=18&sig2=A51TepoGJuwB75NWoPBhRA&zoom=1&tbnid=QhbbtLJlD50lWM:&tbnh=135&tbnw=164&ei=bviPTOSVH8OQjAew0OzpDA&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dcrazy%2Bhomeless%2Bguy%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26rls%3Den%26biw%3D1200%26bih%3D620%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C362&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=901&vpy=253&dur=519&hovh=194&hovw=260&tx=207&ty=102&oei=XviPTKz-HZuR4gbe07WQDQ&esq=2&page=2&ndsp=18&ved=1t:429,r:5,s:18&biw=1200&bih=620

This afternoon we saw a production of “39 Steps” at the Criterion in London.  I had enjoyed the other required play that we had attended (“Merry Wives of Windsor”), but having been in Shakespearean dialogue there were a few things I did not pick up on in the humor of the production.  Not to say the story was excellent and the acting even better, it just didn’t have my sides splitting like I had expected.  Today was a bit different.  I saw things today that I have seen in many aspects of American comedy that I appreciate: raunchy jokes, innapropriate references, slapstick humor, and the ability to laugh at oneself extensively.  The play was incredibly engaging; I thought the use of the stage was executed to a T.  There were all kinds of props flying in and out in a chaotic yet entertaining manner.  My two favorite examples of use of stage had to have been the lamppost/window interaction with Henney and the two “police officers”, as well as the villain’s character looking for a place to sit and having an easy chair whisked onto the stage without warning.

The thing that I want to comment about mostly in terms of comparing this production to British culture is the sheer goofyness of the performance.  It seems like for the most part, Brits are wildly proud of their ability to put on an epic classic play (think Les Miserables or Romeo and Juliet).  Of course there is a decent amount of humor embedded in these plays but not as much goofy physical comedy or simple joking about concerning the very idea of the play.  I came away from the play practically thinking I had watched the twisted offspring of Seinfeld and Dumb & Dumber rolled into one.  In a freshly written script, 39 steps took on a classic Hitchcock film, with a few tweaks.  Ridden with slapstick humor, absurd accents, and quick witted naughty dialogue, 39 Steps appeared to break what the norms of British comedy appear to be.  The actors had the ability to laugh at themselves and the very idea which they were portraying.  Several times in the play, actors would jokingly pause (as written, I’m sure) and correct what was going on around them, chastising the other players for something they didn’t like or something that was seemingly not a part of the production.

Overall, I heard some classmates utter comments like “I don’t want to be snobby, but it was a bit lacking”.  I feel like you have to understand what you are getting into and go in with an open mind when you see a play like this.  I haven’t had much experience with the theater, I admit, but I have to say this play left me both rolling on the floor and very satisfied with the way it was portrayed visually.  For me, this spoke a lot to me about the nature of theater.  You don’t have to put on a 3 hour long, epic performance to please the audience.  I have a brief background in writing comedic stories and brief film screenplays and I know that a joke can kill moreso than a great dramatic performance in some cases.  Just because it’s a small scale production that does not pose some kind of grand theory on life does not mean it was bad.  Take it for what it is: The Superbad of theater.

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