Plays

A few days ago someone wrote in to the Straits Times to complain about her unpleasant experience watching Twelfth Night at the SRT last Saturday. Her gripe was that the audience was so full of rowdy secondary school kids that she could hear nary a word the actors said.

This play being the O-level literature text, I can only guess how many pre-pubescents were forced by their schools into buying tickets. Even so, that writer has my sympathies. Because I was there.

The audience was mainly girls. They were on average 13 years old. To all of them, the world was their oyster. Most of them wore short skirts, some of them wore skanky tops. A few of them just couldn't shut up. One such group was seated behind me. Despite barrages of "Shhhhh" from everyone else, they just kept going on like maniacs. To wit:

Actor enters stage.

One girl:"Eh, tengoh! Macham Oliver Twist!!!!!"

Chorus of screeches and chortles.

They didn't shut up when Aaron Maniam whipped his head round to give them The Glare. They didn't shut up when I growled menacingly at them to do so. I think the only thing that would have shut them up was their own teacher. And what's worse than an absent teacher was the teacher who was present, and did absolutely nothing at all.