Exit stage left

We’d seen this poster in the bar we have coffee in, and we worked out it was an amateur dramatics group who were touring the region with their play. When the landlady saw us looking at it she asked if we would be going? We strongly believe in supporting and being part of our community, so we decided it would be just the ticket, and maybe a great way to practise listening to french in a safe, and fun, environment too. After all, what could possibly go wrong?

Sunday afternoon arrived, and although we were both a little tired, and probably would have settled for a cosy night in, we set off for the café early to grab a coffee before the show. We were hoping to get a drink before going to buy our tickets, but unfortunately none of the bars were open. A quick walk past the theatre showed that the hall was quite empty as well, so we had a little stroll around the town, then wandered back to the theatre hoping things may have warmed up. There were now quite a few people waiting to buy their tickets, which meant we could go in and quietly choose a couple of seats without drawing too much attention to ourselves. We joined the queue and were soon inside. As we entered the hall we saw the landlady, who was organising where people should sit. She saw us, and shouted across the room, ‘Les Anglais !’ So much for a quiet entry.

The ticket clerk asked if we had reserved seats, and I was about to reply no, when the rapidly approaching landlady said, ‘Bien sûr’, so apparently we had. Brian paid our 16 euros, and the landlady ushered us to some prime seats three rows from the front, worryingly just behind the seats marked ‘VIP’. We had planned to sit at the back, just in case the whole thing seemed too much, and we could slip out if needed, but we were now feeling very important, if a little closed in.

The theatre started to fill up, in fact it was soon positively full. There were people sitting all around us on newly brought in chairs, that had been found in the back, behind the stage. We were definitely here now for the duration.

We sat patiently, waiting for things to commence. By the time the show was ready to start the VIP seats in front of us were still empty. Suddenly there was a big hubbub, and lots of hand shaking and kissing, as our missing guests arrived. We had no idea who the people were, causing such a commotion and keeping us all waiting, but the Mayor and his party probably wondered who we were too.

The lights were dimmed, the music started, and on stage the landlady from the café bar appeared. She was brilliant in a cleaning lady roll, and she really came alive up on stage. Everyone who had been involved in selling tickets, seating the audience, and getting more chairs were all seen on stage at some point throughout the play.

We were trying extremely hard to understand what was being said, and follow what was clearly a very chaotic and comedic play. The audience were in hysterics, and I was just laughing at the audience laughing; I think Brian thought I understood more than I did. After the show we compared notes, and I actually think Brian had got way more of the story than me. We’d pieced together a very peculiar plot of illicit drugs, women of the night, an adulterous husband, a policeman under the influence, and a wife who’d accidentally put the cat in the washing machine. A typical French farce we guessed.

After the second act, when we had been sitting down for two hours, struggling to understand and getting a bit fidgety, the landlady appeared on stage dressed in a teddy bear onesie. She recited a short dialogue, and the lights went up. Everyone - well we thought everyone - started to leave.  We made a dash for it, to avoid the crowd of some two hundred people or so driving out of the market square. Once we got outside though it became apparent that it was just a cigarette break. ‘What shall we do?’ I asked Brian. ‘Honestly, I’m not sure I can go another hour, I think this must be our cue to leave’.

We jumped in the car and started for home. It had certainly been an interesting afternoon, and the play was probably brilliantly written, if only we could have followed it, but we’d done our bit, given it a good go, and felt it was okay to quit there. I think the saying is ‘Exit stage left.’