Equus

There are so many amazing shows in the West End right now, that it was honestly quite difficult to choose which one show to see while in London. There is The Tempest, starring Patrick Stewart. There is The Lady From Dubuque, starring Maggie Smith. There is Wicked, The Sound of Music, History Boys, etc, etc, etc.

But when I saw Daniel Radcliffe on the tube yesterday morning, I decided to try to get a ticket for the matinee of his show, Equus. I had read some rave reviews of it over the weekend, and I vaguely remembered seeing a G-rated version of this surreal play when I was in college.

Everything fell into place very easily. I was walking up Rupert Avenue from Leceister Square, when I saw the gigantic black and white sign featuring a half-naked Harry Potter and four horse heads beneath his waist. I went inside to the box office and managed to get a stage seat for 9.50 GBP. (About $20 US.) I would be able to see everything, the saleslady assured me. And see everything I did.

About 10 minutes before the show began, the stage seat patrons were taken backstage and seated about 10 feet above the stage around the back of the round space in the Gielgud Theatre. The theater went dark, and the spooky music quieted the audience. A chubby, white-haired man with glasses lit up a cigarette and the show began.

The surreal-ness of Equus hadn't changed much since the production I'd seen probably 12 or 13 years ago, but the acting and the staging in this production were far superior. Quickly, I was so absorbed into the story that I didn't mind or even notice the 2 hour 30 minutes running time.

From the stage seats, I had to lean over the rail to see the stage, and it was kind of uncomfortable, making my feet stiff by intermission time. But the ticket woman had been serious, I could see and hear everything as well as if I'd been in the stalls.



The acting was excellent, with Richard Griffiths playing the mild-mannered doctor and Daniel Radcliffe playing the angst-ridden teenager Alan Strang. The staging was simplistic, with four rectangular blocks that the actors moved around the space, creating new sets simply with the new arrangement of the boxes. The movement of boxes and opening of doors were fluidly incorporated into the actions of the actors so that it was hardly distracting from the show.

There were even horses in the show, which were exquisite. Six fit men dressed in brown suede riding pants and tight long-sleeved t-shirts of the same color wore large silver wire masks with giant eyes protuding from them and oversized horseshoes that gave them an off-balance stance and clacked as they walked around the stage. Their mannerisms gave the distinct feeling of being surrounded by these magnificent beasts.

During the curtain call, veteran actor Griffiths led the cast in bows, by quietly telling Radcliffe and the others which way to bow and when to turn. As the cast made their way off-stage, Radcliffe took the elder actor's hand and gently led him down the step of the elevated stage. It was in these small gestures that you could see that Radcliffe and Griffiths have a pupil-teacher relationship, and it was nice to see the younger actor during a moment of humility.

Now, about the infamous "naked" scene...

A woman from Chicago sat next to me, and she had seen the show on the previous night. The first thing she said to me was that you forget that you're seeing Harry Potter as soon as the show starts and when "the scene" happens, you are so engrossed in the story that you are not paying attention to the leacherous idea of seeing adolescent Harry Potter in the nude.

She was right. The character of Alan Strang is so angry and vulnerable and pitiful, and the acting so impeccable and captivating, that you actually do forget that you're in a theater, seeing a play. You're really watching 17-year-old Strang freak out while the old doctor coaxes him to relive a disturbing memory.
Of course, when the show ended, because I was sitting above the stage, I had a remarkable view of activities backstage, where Radcliffe was getting dressed for the curtain call. At that moment, I suddenly felt extremely leacherous, and I started looking elsewhere around the theater, because I felt very uncomfortable being a 31-year-old woman having a clear view of Harry Potter's bare bottom.