Odd

At a loose end this evening, we thought we'd have another go at the art gallery in Fabrezan. We had picked up a brochure of the exhibitions and events, and S found that there was a concert this evening -- songs and poetry by Boris Vian. The last concert we went to there was so terrible that I took the precaution of googling the performers. They seemed plausible -- an actress in musical theatre and a professor at the Conservatoire in Toulouse. So off we went.

Arriving fifteen minutes before the show was due to start, we found the gallery empty except for the artist owner and friends eating takeaway pizza. There were seats and a stage, but no other sign of an imminent show. We had a look around the art (this example is typical of the owner's work) and then sat outside on the steps as a trickle of other people arrived. 

The show started around 25 minutes after the advertised time. We were beckoned inside, and the massive door was swung closed and bolted. Uh-oh. The less I say about the show the better. I won't embarrass the participants by naming them. Even the basics were messed up ... for example they started by reading pieces by Vian from paperback books, and the stage (extra) was so badly lit that the professor was peering at his copy, trying different angles, and complaining that he couldn't see well enough to read it (and evidently didn't know the text well enough to manage without).

Anyway, we were trapped! Luckily it was only an hour long. At the end most of the audience applauded enthusiastically, and my wish for no encore was not fulfilled. Afterwards we jumped up and rushed for the door. A young woman struggled to unbolt it, but finally we burst out into the balmy evening air, not before S had put 10 euros in the hat that was passed round.

Once we were far enough out of earshot, S said judiciously, "It was OK." Me: "Are you kidding? I'm never going to a show there again!"

OK, one upside: I learned of the existence of the ophicleide (the brass instrument on the right hand side of the extra). It's a descendant of the serpent and a forerunner of the tuba, and the professor did play it very competently (certainly better than his "singing"). And S has spent quite a while reading about Boris Vian's life, as the show was certainly not enlightening in that respect.