I desperately wanted to see the Public Theater’s production of Twelfth Night, one of the few Shakespeare comedies I truly love (well, except for the B plot, but never mind), but it never worked out. The thing only played for a few short weeks, and bad weather, out-of-town travel, health issues, rotten luck, and a few bad gambles all conspired against me.
The production was so popular that you had to begin queuing before dawn to even have a chance of obtaining tickets (I arrived at 6:15 one morning and was too late), and I never won the jackpot in the “virtual queue” online either. And now it’s closed, and I’m still pouting about it, and I have nothing to write about. I suppose I could watch Trevor Nunn’s film adapation again (Imogen Stubbs, Helena Bonham Carter, Nigel Hawthorne, Ben Kingsley, Imelda Staunton—great cast), but it’s not the same. So sad! And now what am I going to write about? I turned down the chance to see Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen with Sean, Stephen, and Andy. Maybe that was a bad call after all. (Ha! No, it wasn’t.)
In conclusion: Shakespeare in the Park needs longer seasons. That is all.
Much Review About Nothing 