I went to see a play this week. This is highly unusual.
The play was called, appropriately, “What To Do When You Hate All Your Friends,” and though one would think that title alone would attract me, the real reason I went is because my friend Carrie was in it. It was a guy who hates all of his friends (hence the title) who falls in with a a ridiculous type-A click that has a systematic and ongoing ranking system for all of their interpersonal relationships. Cattiness ensues.
I enjoyed the play quite a bit, though that premise requires a suspension of disbelief, either that anybody would ever want to be friends with this group of yahoos after high school or that anybody would actually act in this way. It had a dark, misanthropic world view, and it was refreshing to see one that wasn’t very similar to my own.
It also made me think about why I am not a play person. I miss the editing, the framing, the composition. It’s hard for me to do without the close-ups, the quiet moments, the punctuation of music. I find it very hard to envision a story without these things.
Well, that’s fine. There’s no money in theater anyway.