Last night we went to the great Guthrie Theater in Minneapolis to see M Butterfly. Prior to the play we had dinner with friends.
What an evening. I loved it all. Oh, except for the play!
What's with me and plays these days? Unless it's funny or inspirational or full of music or all of the above - and I'm sitting really close to the stage, I have a tough time sitting through plays.
As you know, M Butterfly is a (sort of) true story of a French diplomat in China who falls for a Chinese opera diva who's actually a man but the French diplomat doesn't find that out until 20 years into their affair.
Well, alrighty then!
Actuality, the play isn't on trial. Since opening on Broadway in 1988 staring John Lithgow and B. D .Wong (Law & Order, SVU) it's had tremendous critical acclaim.
So it's not the play. It's me. I found it depressing. I thought both characters were selfish and of course, the diplomat was clueless.
But then one of the points of the play is that tall, white, Western males ARE clueless.
I told the others on the way home how, when I'm in Florida without Dave, I've taken to going to dinner with friends, then when they get up to go to the play I get up and go home.
Am I getting old or what?
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