#english theatre

[alanbates]

the day contemporary theatre peaked with the passive aggressive gay play

[tina-aumont]

This photo is taken in 1978 and shows the actors and actresses from Roy Hart Theatre in Malerargues, the South of France, where the company moved in 1974.

In the bottom part of the stairs we can see a brunette with short hair and great smile who I'm positive it's María Montez II, however in this page (she is labeled with number 36) she is identifyed as Maria Mirren. Can it be possible she was married to a Mirren hence the change of surname?

Anyway, enjoy the photos, more will come very soon!!

[batnbreakfast]

@shippingsincebeforeyouwereborn asked me how my theatre night was and…

… it was okayish?

It was Romance in D at the English Theatre, a play about fortysomething apartment neighbours in Chicago, who strike up a friendship, who’s single parents fall in love with each other, and who end up a couple.

And while I could see the romance between the parents, the leads ending up a couple had me muttering “the straights aren’t alright” under my breath.

“Why?” you might ask.

Because at the end, after +2 hours of absolutely no romantic tension between them, he kisses her (without asking for consent, but I can let that slide because the consent concept has yet to be fully integrated in romance writing), to which she reacts with “I THOUGHT YOU WERE GAY?!?!?”.

His astonished “Why would you think that?” had her list things like “You drink tea!” (Breaking News: UK population mostly queer, PG Tips denying all responsibility, more at ten.), “You take care of your appearance.” [redacted], and other gems.

One can clearly see that she hasn’t figured him in as a potential partner (and that she should have a long, hard look at her prejudices), especially because she’s still distressed by her ex-husband asking her for a divorce the evening right before this scene.

He’s upset, thinks himself a fool for falling in love and kissing her (I’d vote yes on that), but after roughly ten minutes of things happening, she ends up saying something in the vein of:

“Well, now that you kissed me, and you turned out to actually be straight, I think we should give it a go and enter a relationship.”

And I was like *pained bat sounds*.

The straights sure aren’t alright. At least these straights.

[thedrawingduke]

I realized I never posted these here on tumblr! 2020 did unspeakable things to my mind and body…I staggered away from lockdown with a whole pitch of how I would make an animated Cats adaptation. I got the whole thing up here *taps skull*—it would be Very Good. I can’t think about it too much lest I awaken my sleeping obsession…still want to finish Old Deut and Macavity one of these days.

Fun fact: The term "Jellicle Cat" is actually the cats’ mishearing of the term "Dear Little Cat" (this gives me much joy)

@thedrawingduke on Instagram

[ancientsstudies]

[silverystardustt]

At its core, every piece of media we ever have consumed and ever will consume — whether it’s art, music, books, movies — is fundamentally about love, or the lack of it.

it’s an inescapable facet of human life. it could be about the love you have for people in your life, or how much you hate your job, or love your city, but the love is always there.

[welcometogrouchland]

I understand that literature nerd Jason Todd is kind of overblown in fanon compared to it's actual presence in canon (a few issues during his pre (and post?)crisis Robin tenure that highlight it) BUT consider that I think it's hilarious if the unhinged gun toting criminal has strong opinions on poetry

[placeofwonder]

lately: enjoyed my beautiful town in the sun and reviewed two plays for the student magazine, which is a great outlet for the part of my brain that wishes I was still studying humanities

[science-lings]

AU where Phoenix is a drama teacher and Edgeworth is an English teacher and they’re both really weird about Shakespeare

Or

drama teacher!Phoenix and dance teacher! Edgeworth have to work together for a high school play without trying to kill each other (it gets real fuckin close)

[itsacruelsummerwithyou2]

thinking about hamlet with a female laertes. thinking about ophelia having an older sister who warns her off of hamlet not to slut shame, but because she knows how men can be. thinking about laertes as a woman who lacks ophelia’s naivety and gertrude’s chosen apathy, who instead has as much potential for rage and violence as the men she’s surrounded by. thinking about hamlet’s relationship to women and his own masculinity being further complicated by his foil, the character who becomes the mirror to his own grief, the one who ultimately kills him, being a woman. just… thinking about a female laertes.

[tacccalb]

what do i even caption this

[entropy404]

You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal: except my life, except my life, except my life.

William Shakespeare, Hamlet

[strawberryshortpace]

I don’t know what theater kid needs to hear it, but making a mistake (or multiple) on stage is not the end of the world and you don’t suck for it

Brought to you by the fact that today I saw Jeremy Jordan drop something on stage, break character mid song to go ‘woops’, and stumble over multiple lines in an official Broadway Production

[shakespearenews]

Elizabeth Russell was just as fiercely territorial in London, where she maintained a mansion in the upmarket district of Blackfriars. In 1596 the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, the playing company to which William Shakespeare belonged, was facing a crisis. The lease for the land where the acting troupe’s main venue, the Theatre in Shoreditch, stood was about to expire. Facing an uncertain future, the impresario James Burbage, who had created the Theatre, sunk a fortune into a new venture: a playhouse in Blackfriars. It cost a colossal £1,000 to purchase and renovate the property.

Unfortunately for Burbage and the players, the theatre was just over 120 feet from Elizabeth’s doorstep. Neither she nor her neighbours had objected to a previous theatre nearby, which had operated under the guise of a ‘private’ rehearsal space for the queen’s choristers (even though the paying public had attended performances there). But when she discovered that a ‘common playhouse’ was about to open in her elegant neighbourhood she was furious.

Galvanising her local community into action, Elizabeth got up a petition against the opening of the Blackfriars Theatre. Among its 30 signatories were Richard Field, Shakespeare’s first publisher, and Sir George Carey, the playing company’s patron. Neither dared object to Elizabeth’s anti-theatrical uprising.

[unyandere]

Yandere killer x reader who is a Theatre Kid and CAN’T stop making musical references every two seconds

Tw: Theatre kid behaviour (I should know, I’m a theatre kid) songs from Hamilton, Epic:the musical, Six, Heaters, Ride the Ciclone (and maybe other musicals) mention

Maybe some musical references here and there but nothing too big

Other Tw: probably cringy, I feel bad for the Yandere, LOTS of bad English, oh dear you are not ready for this musicals references (I am not tagging the musicals fandoms, I feel like my silly goofiness is too overwhelming today)

Wanna read more unyandered works? Here’s the master post

You shot your photo aaaand… posted!

Now that you thought about it, this was your first post on insta, and it was a photo of you smiling in the theatre awaiting to see the play that would’ve started in just a few moments.

You almost couldn’t contain your excitement, buying the ticket had been a real struggle, but finally you would have been able to see THAT musical.

You were mumbling some of the songs from the musical you heard on Spotify, while trying to calm yourself down.

After a couple of seconds you heard a ping, a notification, from your phone.

The show would have started in less than 10 minutes, but looking at a notification wouldn’t take more than a couple of seconds.

Well, looking at the phone you noticed it was just your childhood friend liking your post.

You smiled at yourself.

On the other hand, your so called childhood friend was… well, he was certainly not well.

Tied up to a chair, beaten up and, oh lord, were those burn marks on his head?!

Yeah, he wasn’t exactly at his best.

But the guy in the same room as him, who, oh so casually, was smoking a cigarette, that so casually happened to be the cause of the burn marks, was someone that could be considered physically well, mentally… let’s just say his therapist had to see another therapist who also needed to see another therapist after that and so on.

The cigarette-smoking-guy was also in a good mood!

Talk about being lucky…

Why? Well, he just found that his muse, his everything, his sweetheart (who didn’t even know him but those are just flimsy details, aren’t they?) was pretty close to where he and his victim were and, on top of that, was oh so cutely looking at a play.

He didn’t really like plays, but if his sweetheart, his everything, his muse liked them… well he could stand to lose a few pounds hours.

Maybe… just maybe… after this job (extorting vital info for a particular company from your friend) (he was really keen on making your friend either disappear or become his accomplice in making you fall in love with himself), he could wash himself, dress up nicely and, maybe, meet you outside the theatre.

And, who knows, maybe he could… dine with you? Oh, how his mind rode off thinking of all the things you two could do together.

It took him ten minutes to recompose himself, ten minutes that he could have used to finish this job earlier.

He almost got angry with himself, but he stopped before: he didn’t have the time for that.

And so he looked at your friend.

“Sooo… how about you tell me those little secrets of yours, then you help me out with this one little-itty-bitty really legal thing and then, on an incredible note, I let you live?” He asked smiling at your friend.

Your friend sighed.

Three hours later you went out of the theatre, feeling refreshed and happy after seeing the whole play.

You knew you would sing those songs in repeat for the next three weeks.

But, as soon as you were outside you saw your childhood friend with… a guy in a black trench that looked like the outlet version of JD from Heaters.

Obviously, you went to your friend to greet them and tell them what a GREAT show you saw and give them a preview on how you would annoy them for the coming weeks.

They looked at you smiled (kinda forcefully?) and introduced to you their new friend telling you that “They were also musicals fans”.

To be honest, that was in no way true, he, the killer and kinda kidnapper on demand, hadn’t seen A musical in his whole life, he just knew some of the most famous titles.

But he did ask your friend to introduce him in a way you would want to talk to him.

And BOY DID THAT WORK.

You grabbed his wrist, your happy-neutral expression becoming more and more crazed-happy the more seconds passed.

“You..” you looked at him, eyes shining “You like musicals?!”

He slowly nodded (he was in an emotion between the most extreme happiness one can feel, the most fear one can feel and the most in love one can feel).

You stopped breathing for a moment.

“OMG! WHATSYOURFAVOURITEMUSICAL?WHATDOYOUSING?YOULOOKLIKEABASSBUTYAKNOWIDONTLIKETOMAKEASSUMPTIONS…DIDYOUSEETHISPLAY?DIDYOULIKETHELASTSONG?IDIDNTREALLYLIKEHOWTHEYEXCLUDEDTHECHORUSBUTICANUNDERSTANDTHESTORYREASONBEHINDITIMEANITOBVIOUSLYISAMETAPHORABOUTTHEPROTAGONISTBEINGABLETOBETHEMSELVESALONEWITHOUTTHENEEDOFANYONETELLINGTHEMWHATTHEYHAVETOBETOBEHAPPYBUTWHATDIDYOUTHINKABOUTTHISDECISION?” You asked, not so calmly.

He didn’t process the question, more precisely, while trying to understand what you were saying his brain went into overload, caused a crisis and collapsed on itself leaving him with one thought: her face was really cute.

“I like your head” he said, not being able to form a decent phrase.

You obviously took the reference (which technically wasn’t there) and laughed.

“Man, you Henry the VIII?” You joked.

He didn’t understand the joke, and neither did he remember anything about Henry the VIII apart from him being called the “Golden Prince” or something, so he thought you were looking at him and complimenting him on his looks.

And he totally had to return a compliment.

But then another person, a girl you knew from drama class, chimed in wanting to ask your thoughts on the play but she was stopped by him (who misinterpreted her wanting to come to you as her trying to attack you)

“Yo, you got a bone to pick?!” He asked her.

You and her looked at each other, then him, then each other again and you both, being both theatre kids obviously, smiled devishly.

“You’ve come so far why now are you pulling on my dick? I’d normally slap your face off, and everyone here could watch, but here’s some advice listen up” you both sang and then took a (extremely melodramatic) breath “BEEYOTCH”

And, yes, you both started little dancing together the choreography.

Nit doing it too much (cuz you know you were still in public) but doing it enough for your friend and mr. Killer and kidnapper on demand to see.

And he… he was confused.

What the hell did you two just do? Why did you two sing? Why were you both moving your hips? What did he say that made you two act like that.

“Why Lord-“ he started but as soon as he said that you two stopped looked at each other and attempted the last part of “The ballad of Jane Doe” (the part with the Why Lord) even though none of you were a soprano so what people heard were two chicken like voices schreeching and hurting everyone’s ears.

And now, now he was regretting his life choices, as he was cursing the fact that he was in love with you and not with, idk, a mentally stable and not socially awkward person.

“You are the-“ before he could even finish the sentence you two chances song, almost reading in each other’s mind with the typical telepathy ability that all theatre kids have once they sell their soul to the devil in exchange for the part they want to be casted as.

“-WORST KIND OF GOOD CAUSE YOU ARE NOT EVEN GREAT! A GREEK WHO REEKS OF FALSE RIGHTEOUSNESS THAT’S WHAT I HATE!!!” You and your drama class classmate sang as one voice as you both exchanged really full of pride stares to one another.

“I-I’m sorry” mumbled the Yandere “I will go to work”

And as soon as he said the word WORK, an ancient almost primal instinct woken up inside you and your classmate.

And you both started singing “The schuyler sisters” from Hamilton

And so, the Yandere pining over you just, quietly, walked away.

Traumatized and comforted by your friend who was also put at discomfort by your… peculiar antics.

[thomascromwelll]

Freya Mavor as Anne Boleyn in The Other Boleyn Girl | Chichester Festival Theatre 2024