Order Soon Van
Creativity starves insanity
Mere Mass gives way to pews with Jews commemorating the Holocaust to take in two wandering close to St Mary's Cathedral. Deathly somber air and acoustics bouncing ad infinitum making clarity a mumble.
Ten minutes or more and the man who lends his booklet disappears, never to return and never to know if he wants the booklet back. Shortly after a survivor recalls the horror and stress of the times, a quick sneak back outside to continue on the call.
On a short cue assignment, tickets to the night's session of Speedy Mustard spend much of their time being nonexistent. No name or idea of what's going on it seems. No tickets mean no assignment and no assignment means another walk back through the chaotically cut roads of King Cross.
Minutes later and the tickets, after a few abstractions and enunciations on name and representation, appear. Timing is perfect with a survey dipping into the black box and a walk around the streets to kill time makes for a few close car crashes.
Speedy Mustard is that special kind of quirky that relies a lot on the belief and faith in an audience to be kind and accepting of the slightest turn. Seeing no signs of rampant spotlighting, the chance to fall asleep occurs at a point intuitively before the lights appear in the hopes of the performance. From the slumber, the humour and wit is apparent, leaving little to the black wall with a fine cut in phrase and execution.
Damage is done and the hurt of it all questions how much of the second night's audience are in the know. They are far, far too ahead of Marty Murphy for a fresh mind to comprehend.
Soon Van - Saturday, 29 April 2006 - 15:37
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