Simply amazing. For 90 minutes Christopher Plummer has the audience in his palm, directs them to laughter, smiles, applause and wistful memories. By quoting famous authors he spans his life story from his birth on a cold and grey winter night in … only that it wasn’t there, it was somewhere else… through his rebellious years till adolescence to lust and laughter and sorrow to thoughts of demise and death – and I’m scared, I’m scared shitless. It could be his life, but not necessarily has to be. There are almost no anecdotes behind the scenes of his vast theatre or filming life, no sexy tell alls about his private endeavours.
It’s all about the magic of words, of language – and a bit of a farewell to it, too, in this 140 clicks twitter age of ours. It is about the beauty of a phrase, the precise hit of a sarcastic bonmot, the lush drowning in a sequence of melodious patterns that make you feel uplifted, sad, inspired or helpless – just as the author wanted you to.
It was a woman who brought me to drink – and I never had the decency to thank her.
Some say Bacon topped Shakespeare. I say Shakespeare ATE bacon…
It’s incredibly sad that I can’t remember much more of what Plummer used, other than there was Shakespeare, Shaw, Oscar Wilde, Dylan Thomas – whom he knew personally; he was a bystander when Thomas and Richard Burton, another Welsh great, drank and talked away the nights in New York -, all referenced and lovingly quoted and brought together in a symphonic celebration of life and death and living and loving. I wish they’d tape it.
I wish I could see it once more.
PS: fun detail: there was a tiny bat circling the stage – I think it got attracted by Plummer’s incredible voice just like everybody else in the audience! 🙂
PPS: At opening night Val Kilmer was in the audience. Geraint Wyn Davies hosted the after show party. And I was at 42nd Street. not a happy camper 😉