Shakespeare under the pouring rain

Last night's performance of Twelfth Night was, well, soggy. It was ominous when we got there, dark clouds, sprinkles, the sound of thunder in the distance. Before 8:00 we were treated to a light show by mother nature. By 8:00 it was pouring rain. I have a very hard time understanding the reasoning behind the decision to go on with the show nonetheless. How can one deny the pouring rain? The senses offered the most reliable proof in this case. One good thing: I had initially decided to wear a white shirt, but my I switched to a dark color at the last minute.

I stayed until intermission. The rain policy is that once you've seen half the show, you've essentially seen the entire show, so if they call it after intermission you're out of luck. I threw my ticket stub away with my soggy program only to find out that probably ten minutes after I left they called it and offered to exchange tickets. Phooey on that because even though it was pouring rain, I was laughing out loud, especially at Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Wonderful, wonderful actor. And Susan and Becky, the players did a wonderful job playing with all the sexual undertones, and I'm sure it only gets better in the second half. But alas, I probably won't be getting to see the second half. Oh, and Malvolio was high-larious with his new hobby of smiling for his lady. I can only imagine him in his yellow stockings.

The players did do a nice job with their references to "the elements" and such. I guess they never did get to the song with the famous line, "the rain, it raineth every day."