I WANT MY HOUR BACK

I’m part of a service that offers tickets to Broadway, off-Broadway, and off-off Broadway shows, for a nominal fee. It makes risk-taking almost painless… well almost. I’m under agreement not to slam what I see, it goes against the purpose. So I’ll be as obscure as possible.

Cara and I saw something that was supposed to be scary, and well, since we’re both suffering from colds we thought a bit of entertainment might help things out— I usually go to movies. That’s what we should have done, but once we bought the tickets we were committed. Oh lord was it bad. It was supposed to be scary, suspenseful, about ghosts, unsolved murders, curses, crime and generally creepy stuff, some of my favorite things. It had all the subtlety of an Ed Wood film. Some people have no sense of what’s really scary, I mean disturbing, unsettling. It’s about suggestion, timing, intensity.

This was garbage. People yelling for effect, pointless lighting, miscasting, plot holes, and that discomfort that comes from seeing something really really bad, the kind of thing that makes you embarrassed to be part of because it actually debases and devalues you for the time invested. Nothing washes that taste out of your mouth, not even a post-show so-so organic meal afterwards.