As always the folks at Zuppa Theatre did well to use the space provided (balcony levels included).
The actors even went as far as to use the exit door to the left of the auditorium to yell out conversations with “other characters”, and on many occasions the actors exited this door to the outside only to present themselves again on the other side (main entrance) of the theatre (out one door and in another – it was like a good old fashion episode of Flintstones with Dino). The interactions conducted out the exit door sent the audience into a tail spins of laughter, and honestly it was probably one of funniest (and clever) things I’ve seen in a while especially given the fact that the first time this play was performed the neighbors called the cops because they thought it was a domestic disturbance. If you happened to be walking by while the play was going on I can’t imagine what you would have thought, but these are the amazingly clever things that make Zuppa Theatre special; you honestly never know what they are going to do next.
“Half way through the first act, I am standing in the lobby waiting for my entrance, when a policeman knocks on the theatre door. He comes in and says, “Did you guys report a domestic disturbance?” “No”, I say, from beneath my bowler hat and holding a pitchfork in my hand just at that moment my cue is called and I have to go on stage. After the show Bonnie, the house manager, tells me that one of the neighbours called the police because our vaudevillian shenanigans sounded and looked like a domestic disturbance. It makes sense because we run in and out of the theatre yelling contemporary sounding phrases like “God have mercy on all of us!” or “On the field of honour!” or “Semyon, you idiot! You’ve got the trace horses all tangled up!”’
