Please switch off your…
19th June 2011
In this day and age, you’d expect the next word to be mobile followed by phones. Especially given the context: the O2 arena for a performance of the Royal Ballet’s Romeo and Juliet. Indeed, the PA did make that announcement, along with the “flash photography is prohibited” (which of course, was ignored by numerous people and is a separate rant.)
Twenty minutes into the first act, I had (in my head) altered the phrase to: Please switch off your babies. Yes. Really. Someone in their wisdom thought it was a good idea to take a babe in arms to the Royal Ballet. In the baby’s defence, it didn’t scream, but it did have a cold so couldn’t breathe easily and sounded like a little pig snuffling, grunting and whimpering about two feet from my head.
It added a new dimension to Prokofiev’s score, percussion of a piggy kind that had probably never been heard before in its 76 years. However, I wouldn’t recommend it. By the time Romeo had set eyes on Juliet after gatecrashing the Capulet’s house, I’d scanned available seating for a move at the end of the act. As Juliet fell in love with Romeo, I’d located my seat for the post interval performance.
As the lights went down for Act II, the orchestra whisked me away, piggy free and powerful. The lack of intimacy at the O2 diluted the visual impact massively, but it was still a great production and I’ll never cease to be amazed at the ability of top ballet dancers. Perhaps the snuffling baby will grow up to be one after its early exposure to dance, or maybe it should have been at home with a babysitter.
Twenty minutes into the first act, I had (in my head) altered the phrase to: Please switch off your babies. Yes. Really. Someone in their wisdom thought it was a good idea to take a babe in arms to the Royal Ballet. In the baby’s defence, it didn’t scream, but it did have a cold so couldn’t breathe easily and sounded like a little pig snuffling, grunting and whimpering about two feet from my head.
It added a new dimension to Prokofiev’s score, percussion of a piggy kind that had probably never been heard before in its 76 years. However, I wouldn’t recommend it. By the time Romeo had set eyes on Juliet after gatecrashing the Capulet’s house, I’d scanned available seating for a move at the end of the act. As Juliet fell in love with Romeo, I’d located my seat for the post interval performance.
As the lights went down for Act II, the orchestra whisked me away, piggy free and powerful. The lack of intimacy at the O2 diluted the visual impact massively, but it was still a great production and I’ll never cease to be amazed at the ability of top ballet dancers. Perhaps the snuffling baby will grow up to be one after its early exposure to dance, or maybe it should have been at home with a babysitter.