No picnic on this occasion as we did not want to walk from Waterloo to Leicester Square. Which meant that we were able to make a rare use of the steps directly down from the overground platforms at Waterloo to the underground concourse. Quite a lot of walking involved and I am not sure that it actually saves any time, but we got there.
A plus was that we came across the handrail illustrated, just like those we used to have in what used to be the Treasury building opening onto Parliament Street, aka GOGGS. No idea how the bends were made a hundred years ago, but I do have an idea that it would be very expensive to make them now.
Onto the tube, where yet again, I was offered a seat by a young lady.
Onto the Salisbury, which we thought was rather crowded, but an Australian gentleman at the bar assured me that it was nothing. Nothing like a proper bar, down under. In any event, service was fast enough, with a bonus being that a theatrical looking gentleman gave up his seat so that I could sit with BH. Perhaps he too was about to be sitting down for an evening performance and wanted to keep his circulation going as long as possible. His wife, however, had no such concerns and remained seated.
We were then reminded how florid Wyndham's was inside - and we rather liked it.
I thought that the set had been designed by the same chap who had done 'An Inspector Calls', with lots of dark corners, angles and fake perspective. See reference 1. But then again, maybe not, because although the inspector had run at Wyndham's for a long time, a long time ago, we actually saw it at the Playhouse, by the north end of Hungerford Bridge. One feature of the fake perspective was that a bookcase at the back of the set looked improbably tall, until someone stood next to it and you realised that it was not very tall at all.
Most of the cast spoke quite quickly which meant that one had to concentrate to catch what they were saying, what with the US accents (presumably put on for the occasion) and slang. But this did not stop the show lasting a little over three hours (excluding interval) which was more than an hour too long for BH and less than an hour too long for me. Unusually, it was the second half which seemed too long, rather than the first half, with my usual experience being that I, or the show, pick up steam in the second half. Maybe the double shot of whisky usually taken in the interval helps me along - but omitted on this occasion in favour of an ice cream for BH. An ice cream from a very grumpy ice cream girl, who completely failed to warm to attempts to be pleasant. Perhaps she was on minimum wages on a zero hours contract?
Apart from being too long, leaving one wondering how on earth they could keep up, it was a good show, albeit one which reflected the US taste for sweaty dramas about dysfunctional families. Irons was well cast as a once successful actor and made full use of his smoking rights, getting through bits of several cigars in the course of the evening, enough to amount to something of a habit given that he does it every evening. I think he inhales and one supposes that he is a smoker. Oddly, I did not smell cigars; odd because in the street I can a lighted cigar from a fair distance, say fifty yards if the wind is right.
There were plenty of good lines, funny lines in a black humoured way, liberally sprinkled through both halves.
Mention in dispatches for Jessica Regan as Cathleen, who did a splendid job on the sort of jolly but hopeless maid which the O'Neill family could run to.
We were pleased to just catch the 2309 from Waterloo. Half an hour can seem a long time at that time of night, especially in the winter. One might be tempted to take on drink.
Back home, reading Wikipedia, we find that the play was based pretty closely on O'Neill's own family. With the family home being called Monte Cristo for the role which made his father's money.
Reference 1: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2017/02/the-inspector-calls-again.html.
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