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I should have posted this in August, when we went, but I was too disappointed, and exhausted.
But someone I know has said they're headed to see it, so I thought it was time to post.
At the end of August, after Raglan, Robert and I had a random day in the city, and we passed the theatre showing War Horse. I'd wanted to attend since last Christmas but at that time found tickets were booked through til February, so it got put off.
Now, walking in, I could get tickets for the same week, and a selection of seats. WTH, I thought, it'll round out our summer holiday.
I'd watched the documentary about the War Horse production avidly before it opened in London - the intricacy of the 'puppets' amazed me, and I was intrigued by the mechanics of it, and the learning to make these devices turn into creatures on stage.
So ;ater that week, we had dinner at our favourite Chinese restaurant and headed to the theatre.
And we walked out at intermission, something I've never done before.
But I was so unhappy, and so irritated, that it overcame my inner frugalness that was bitching about the 'wasted' cost of the tickets.
Some of the issues were with the production. The lead actor was an utterly unconvincing teenager; I realise we have to suspend disbelief, but I guess I need help to do so.
The production overall was very 'shouty': it sounded like the actors weren't confident that their voices would reach everyone in the theatre and they had to raise the volume, but didn't have the skill to do it without shouting. So everyone's lines seemed over-loud, even those that were supposed to be low.
To confuse matters the lead singer of the musical pieces between acts was mic'ed, so his voice carried loudly over the audience. After getting accustomed to the shoutiness, hearing a lead singer clearly was a shock. It felt like they were trapped between two approaches - to mic or not to mic - and had decided to do both.
BUT...then the chorus was not mic'ed. Go figure.
The pacing was poor: it felt like the whole production was rushing to meet a deadline that everyone felt late for. There were no pauses, no moments of silence to let a line sink in.
But what broke it for me, and the reason I walked out, was the plot: that it was the story of a teenager from an alcoholic home who tries to care for a horse, that becomes a pawn in a dysfunctional family.
Now, lots of people come from dysfunctional families, and lots of people have experience with alcoholic families, and the kinds of abusive, manipulative, and enabling behaviour that happen in those families aren't unusual.
But I could not stomach having it feature as the fulcrum around which the family turned: that the father was a drunk, the mother an enabler ('he doesn't mean it; you don't know what he's been through; he was the one who stayed home to keep the farm going'), the father's brother and family prone to taking advantage of the father's weaknesses ('we'll just offer him a drink or two before bargaining'), the son and the horse suffering the consequences of these manipulations ('you'll do it or I'll shoot him now').
There was nothing glorious, heartwarming, or encouraging about it. It was a methodical exposure of what a broken family looks like, when you live in a culture that doesn't divorce, or worse, when a family 'chooses' to put up with the abuse 'for the sake of the family'.
What was weirdest to me was that I felt like I was the only one who noticed it.
The theatre was full of kids, ranging from young-ish to early teens, I think. There was a tween or teen next to me, with a younger sister further down. And as the lights went up for intermission I heard her say 'it's magical, it's just amazing'.
And I felt like screaming, 'Can't you see he should get out? Get the fuck out, now, now NOW! Don't play these fucking games with an animal's life. LEAVE. There's no fixing this family, no way at all. ANYTHING is better than becoming a pawn. Just GO. GET OUT.'
But I didn't.
When the lights went up, I could see from Robert's posture he wasn't enjoying it much, but was resigned. And I thought, why put up with this? paying money isn't enough reason to be subjected to a show that is upsetting and bothering you.
One usher said goodbye, as we walked out against the flow of attendees hurrying back into the theatre at the end of intermission. He didn't look surprised. 'Not enjoying it?' It must happen.
It's possibly my own fault, for not finding out more about the plot. But I had about as much information I usually have before deciding to watch a movie, probably more - I'd seen the ads, read the highlights of the reviews (uniformly glowing), and seen the documentary.
What struck me is that nowhere in any review, in any personal observation (one of my colleagues at work went, and said it was brilliant, though it was a weepie), in any promotion, was there any discussion of the alcoholic brokenness at the core of the story. Not a whisper, not a hint.
So either lots of people just don't notice it - it's a fairly conventional literary device for introducing conflict and drama - or it doesn't bother them.
I honestly cannot tell you how it ends (though historically, I can tell you the horses don't win the First World War), because I walked out.
I can tell you that I would not recommend it, as a way to see amazing theatrical effects.
Watch the documentary about the making of War Horse. There's loads of it on YouTube, and you get to see the mechanics of it up close, and it's very informative.
But it's poor entertainment.
But someone I know has said they're headed to see it, so I thought it was time to post.
At the end of August, after Raglan, Robert and I had a random day in the city, and we passed the theatre showing War Horse. I'd wanted to attend since last Christmas but at that time found tickets were booked through til February, so it got put off.
Now, walking in, I could get tickets for the same week, and a selection of seats. WTH, I thought, it'll round out our summer holiday.
I'd watched the documentary about the War Horse production avidly before it opened in London - the intricacy of the 'puppets' amazed me, and I was intrigued by the mechanics of it, and the learning to make these devices turn into creatures on stage.
So ;ater that week, we had dinner at our favourite Chinese restaurant and headed to the theatre.
And we walked out at intermission, something I've never done before.
But I was so unhappy, and so irritated, that it overcame my inner frugalness that was bitching about the 'wasted' cost of the tickets.
Some of the issues were with the production. The lead actor was an utterly unconvincing teenager; I realise we have to suspend disbelief, but I guess I need help to do so.
The production overall was very 'shouty': it sounded like the actors weren't confident that their voices would reach everyone in the theatre and they had to raise the volume, but didn't have the skill to do it without shouting. So everyone's lines seemed over-loud, even those that were supposed to be low.
To confuse matters the lead singer of the musical pieces between acts was mic'ed, so his voice carried loudly over the audience. After getting accustomed to the shoutiness, hearing a lead singer clearly was a shock. It felt like they were trapped between two approaches - to mic or not to mic - and had decided to do both.
BUT...then the chorus was not mic'ed. Go figure.
The pacing was poor: it felt like the whole production was rushing to meet a deadline that everyone felt late for. There were no pauses, no moments of silence to let a line sink in.
But what broke it for me, and the reason I walked out, was the plot: that it was the story of a teenager from an alcoholic home who tries to care for a horse, that becomes a pawn in a dysfunctional family.
Now, lots of people come from dysfunctional families, and lots of people have experience with alcoholic families, and the kinds of abusive, manipulative, and enabling behaviour that happen in those families aren't unusual.
But I could not stomach having it feature as the fulcrum around which the family turned: that the father was a drunk, the mother an enabler ('he doesn't mean it; you don't know what he's been through; he was the one who stayed home to keep the farm going'), the father's brother and family prone to taking advantage of the father's weaknesses ('we'll just offer him a drink or two before bargaining'), the son and the horse suffering the consequences of these manipulations ('you'll do it or I'll shoot him now').
There was nothing glorious, heartwarming, or encouraging about it. It was a methodical exposure of what a broken family looks like, when you live in a culture that doesn't divorce, or worse, when a family 'chooses' to put up with the abuse 'for the sake of the family'.
What was weirdest to me was that I felt like I was the only one who noticed it.
The theatre was full of kids, ranging from young-ish to early teens, I think. There was a tween or teen next to me, with a younger sister further down. And as the lights went up for intermission I heard her say 'it's magical, it's just amazing'.
And I felt like screaming, 'Can't you see he should get out? Get the fuck out, now, now NOW! Don't play these fucking games with an animal's life. LEAVE. There's no fixing this family, no way at all. ANYTHING is better than becoming a pawn. Just GO. GET OUT.'
But I didn't.
When the lights went up, I could see from Robert's posture he wasn't enjoying it much, but was resigned. And I thought, why put up with this? paying money isn't enough reason to be subjected to a show that is upsetting and bothering you.
One usher said goodbye, as we walked out against the flow of attendees hurrying back into the theatre at the end of intermission. He didn't look surprised. 'Not enjoying it?' It must happen.
It's possibly my own fault, for not finding out more about the plot. But I had about as much information I usually have before deciding to watch a movie, probably more - I'd seen the ads, read the highlights of the reviews (uniformly glowing), and seen the documentary.
What struck me is that nowhere in any review, in any personal observation (one of my colleagues at work went, and said it was brilliant, though it was a weepie), in any promotion, was there any discussion of the alcoholic brokenness at the core of the story. Not a whisper, not a hint.
So either lots of people just don't notice it - it's a fairly conventional literary device for introducing conflict and drama - or it doesn't bother them.
I honestly cannot tell you how it ends (though historically, I can tell you the horses don't win the First World War), because I walked out.
I can tell you that I would not recommend it, as a way to see amazing theatrical effects.
Watch the documentary about the making of War Horse. There's loads of it on YouTube, and you get to see the mechanics of it up close, and it's very informative.
But it's poor entertainment.
