Friday Fearta

Because our wallets and livers could not stand the wreckage of another friday night (and because larians planned it as a surprise) we headed off down to Macclesfield. Macclesfield is a sweet enough place; it has markets and restaurants, pubs and clubs, terraced cottages and cobbled streets, industrial estates and antique shops. What it doesn't have is a local cinema, which may be why the local theatre gets so much custom.

Friday night and the place is packed. Three times I've been here, and it's always the same. The sponsors are Macc businesses, the audience is made up of people who live nearby, and bums on seats never seem lacking, from the local yoof to the mayor, the occasional pensioner posse and lots of, well, just people really. The whole thing's a community dream, a nicely fitted up little theatre (called, unsurprisingly, The Little Theatre) which houses the efforts of Macclesfield Amateur Dramatics Society to full house audiences on a regular basis. It's all a bit strange. Maybe they sacrifice non-locals to an effigy of Dagon down in the cellar at the end of each run, because otherwise, I just don't understand all this keenness and good behaviour.*

MADS has been around since 1947, and the town has had amateur theatricals since the 1920s. The usual sins of Ayckbourn et al get trotted out regularly, but they try other things too.
They tried another thing last night: 'The Haunting of Hill House.'


( The Play's the thing... )

Still, a fun evening out. It left me looking at the stage and thinking, how do you frighten an audience? How do you unsettle them? Assume that you could hack out some of the more churning dialogue from something like Equus,** and you could really make the audience feel. But Equus and its ilk might not suit the Macc audience. This might be a spurious judgement as they've supported such edifying attempts as Anna Karenina, so they don't balk at 'heavy' stuff, but no, I don't see horse mutilation winning any fans. Shock and anger are easy. Real fear is delicate and rare, and it grows in a setting that seems small while having lots of resource. I would like to see such a play.

And today? I am at half way stage in my work. The flaws are too complicated for me to discuss. Last night, I had strange dreams of being a muse/dancer connected to the Yellow King. I ran and I ran...

And I am positively not going to discuss Interflora or Mothers Day flowers at all.

* You can take the girl out of London...

** No 'little torches shining in the dim cave of the psyche', if it can possibly be avoided.