Feb. 21st, 2006

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On Saturday, I went to see a play called "The Lieutenant of Inishmore" at the Atlantic Theatre. Written by Martin McDonagh, it is a very black comedy about a splinter group of a splinter group of the IRA -- and at the end, there was so much fake blood and body parts strewn around the stage that some people stayed behind to watch the cleanup. Really -- there were several times where somebody got shot, a squib went off and an actor got sprayed with red stuff; there were two fake dead cats (and one obviously healthy real one), and several fake bodies that got sawed into during the last act. Most of the people there -- it was a matinee, so a lot of ladies past the age of retirement -- wouldn't have been caught dead watching a movie that had one quarter of that amount of gore, and I saw several cover their eyes during much of the second half. Hell, I had to drop my eyes occasionally.

Before the played started, my mother asked me what it was about; I hadn't done any research about it (we have a subscription at the Atlantic, which is why we were there), but I'd seen one of McDonagh's other plays and thought it was extremely good. And this was very funny in parts, and extremely well written and acted. But gawd -- what a gorefest....


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