Gangs of New York City

Ages ago, we booked tickets to see West Side Story at Sadler’s Wells. It’s a restaging of the 1957 original production.

The critics here have been raving about it. Saying such things as “…if you don’t see another musical this year, make sure you see this one!” So, seriously, how could we possibly miss it?

Of course, I don’t normally go to Sadler’s Wells, seeing as it generally stages ballet and dance but this was a musical…and we all know how much I love musicals.

We went with Amanda and Carlos, who met us at a lovely bistro style restaurant opposite the theatre. Though we were lucky to get there.

Mirinda flagged down a cab in Holborn and told him where we wanted to go. The driver had no idea what she was talking about and I could see her getting angry at him and his lack of understanding.

As everyone knows, London cabbies have to sit the Knowledge and should know every street and every building in the capital but this guy…well, he had no idea where the restaurant was. So, Mirinda then said we wanted to go to Sadler’s Wells.

It’s not some obscure little back alley 50 seater theatre in the middle of nowhere. It’s world renowned, for a start. He had no idea where it was. This was firmly established after countless repetitions of Sadler’s Wells back and forth between the back and front seat.

Eventually, Mirinda asked if he knew Roseberry Avenue. Finally, something he knew. We set off.

We arrived outside the theatre (huge banners lined the front proclaiming that West Side Story was on) and started to get out. He asked where the theatre was (and I thought Mirinda was very short sighted).

We pointed it out and said there, that’s Sadler’s Wells, thinking he may find this information handy in the future. He then turned to us and said “Sadler’s Wells? I thought you said San Miquel!” Yeah, right. Clearly he was just an idiot.

Mind you, this wasn’t the last time I saw this chap. He turned up out the front at the finish of the performance, looking for fares. I know it was him because his cab was grey rather than black and he did a u-turn right in front of us.

That was also not the only mishap of the night as Mirinda decided a better use for her glass of diet coke was to throw it over my lap. Lovely. And sticky. I’m not sure how something that is supposed to be low in sugar can be so sticky, but it was.

So, we had a lovely dinner, entertaining Amanda and Carlos with tales of stupid, half deaf cab drivers and telekinetic glasses of gaseous liquids and then went across the road to the theatre.

One of the things I really like about Carlos is the fact that he favours headgear. A wise man, hoping for the return of the hat to favour and fashion. The thing is, he rather liked my cane, thinking this could be an essential addition to his wardrobe. This made Amanda despair somewhat.

Mind you, it didn’t make her despair quite as much as being called ‘Plastic Amanda’ by her boss. It’s because of her new title, the initials of which are PVC. I thought this was very funny though she wasn’t quite as amused.

Meanwhile, in the theatre we took our seats, and here’s the thing…when I purchased our tickets, Mirinda suggested to Amanda that they may like to come with us. Amanda asked what seats we had booked (so she could book theirs next to us). She then booked two seats.

Except she’d booked the wrong performance. This booking she managed to cancel, subsequently booking the same one we were going to. Alas, she told Mirinda, she couldn’t get the seats right next to us. There would be one person between us. That would be okay, thought Mirinda, we could ask this person to move down a couple of seats.

Except she’d booked the wrong seats. She and Carlos were in the middle of the row while we were on the aisle.

This all makes Amanda sound a bit dumb but, seriously, she isn’t.

And now, the performances.

Absolutely fabulous. I thoroughly enjoyed it. My only critical comment would be for the acting abilities of Tony (Anthony Festa) and Maria (Jessica Soza)…which weren’t exactly obvious. Their singing, however, was faultlessly beautiful. And they looked the part of the star crossed lovers.

The dancing was terrific. The line between gang posing and dancing was suitably blurred. The precision was perfect. While not being an expert, I thought it was excellent.

While I enjoyed every bit of West Side Story, for me, the stage was dominated both artistically and dramatically by Anita (Penelope Armstead-Williams). She thoroughly deserved the extra loud applause and whistles at the curtain call.

It was a wonderful night at the theatre, unspoilt by the fact that Carlos had an empty Oyster card which he tried to use on the bus back to Waterloo.

I left them both on the station (loading the Oyster card) as I jumped on the late train home.

Incidentally, they are off on their much delayed honeymoon tomorrow morning and neither of them have packed yet. Carlos was supposed to pack today but he was distracted by some delicious sausages which he couldn’t bear to leave behind while they journeyed all over the Western United States.