Showing posts with label Gulbenkian Theatre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gulbenkian Theatre. Show all posts

Tuesday, 7 April 2015

Complete History of Comedy, Reduced Shakespeare Company

Excuse me while I blow the dust off my screen. 

I don't think I have ever gone so long without a blog post since I first started!  A combination of 2 of the busiest weeks at work in my annual work cycle directly followed by a temperature of 101.66F and a seriously nasty bout of suspected gastroenteritis, play week for Charley's Aunt, the in-laws visiting for the Easter weekend and a bit of bloggers block (I have had absolutely no creative inspiration at all recently, it seems to have all been diverted into areas which actually pay my bills, sorry) has meant a whole host of draft posts just sitting in my planner, filled with pictures and absolutely no end material.

Oops

I'm back now though so let's start to catch up!  The 3 week gap does mean that a few of these events happened a little while ago...sorry...this won't exactly be real time blogging for a bit, but we have to start somewhere!

As I mentioned, Charley's Aunt has now finished, so I get my evenings back.  Whoohoo!  At least for the time being.  We are actually doing The Complete Works of Shakespeare (Reduced) next, with RV in the directors chair, so, as part of his very serious 'research' (and not an excuse for a jolly to the theatre at all) he suggested we head up to the Gulbenkian to see The Reduced Shakespeare Company perform The Complete History of Comedy. 
For purely serious research purposes you understand.

So it was on the 1st March (I said there was a bit of a backlog), on a Sunday evening before the start of the working week, a large group of us dutifully filed into the Gulbenkian to take our seats and be entertained with a rip roaring stomp through comedy through the ages.
I have had the absolute pleasure of seeing The Reduced Shakespeare Company twice before, once when I was about 15 and watched them perform The Complete Works Of Shakespeare (Abridged) and once in my early twenties when I watched them perform the Bible (Abridged).

Both times I have been doubled over in my seat, completely helpless and crying with laughter, desperately clutching my stomach to try and alleviate the laughter cramps that are shooting across my abdomen.

For those of you who haven't heard of them (seriously, where have you been?!) they are the company that perform all 37 of Shakespeare's plays in 97 minutes, including Hamlet 3 times.  Once of which is backwards.  They are a three man troupe that dart in and out of roles with slick brevity, using a cap or a moustache to convey a change.  The stage was littered with roosters and scarves, caps and swords by the time they had finished in previous shows. 
Originally from California, the RSC have an impressive comedy pedigree, boasting the longest running comedy show in London, 7 stage shows, 2 television specials and numerous radio pieces that have been heard the world over.  Other tours include Western Civilisation (Abridged), Sports (Abridged), America (Abridged), Books (Abridged)....you get the idea.  If something has a long, complicated history with a huge amount of material to cover, The Reduced Shakespeare Company will roll their sleeves up and have at it with gusto.
The Complete History of Comedy took us on an irreverent ride through, well, the Complete History of Comedy.  They poked fun at the high brow and the low, from the Ancient Greeks (hello Aristophanes) to Shakespeare, chicken crossing the road jokes, Moliere, mimes and clowns, Vaudeville, Chaplin and Chekov (whom I have never thought of as funny!) as the three actors desperately search for the missing chapter on The Art of Comedy that has been lost to time.  In doing so, they take us through every chapter of the book, acting out the principles of comedy and how they have shaped the genre.  They interact with the audience, dragging audience members onto the stage and exchanging banter with people.
I think covering specific comics is one of the disadvantages of a show like this.  Comedy, and what people find funny is intensely personal.  For example, I have never found Moliere or Chekov, or even Chaplin to be funny, and unfortunately, having their plays and sketches acted out by a troop of comedians still doesn't make them funny for me.  There were parts that I did guffaw at, and the audience was definitely tickled by the show, but in comparison to their other productions, it just didn't engender the same continuously cackling reaction in me that I was expecting, and that was a shame.  The funniest joke for me involved Abraham Lincoln and the phrase 'too soon?'.
As we left, we did discuss whether they were now running out of ideas, and whether or not the same format just wasn't as fresh as it used to be.

What the Reduced Shakespeare Company are know and revered for is their impudent, breathless, quick fire routines that is choreographed to a frenetic pace that leaves you gasping for breath.  The very thing that makes us want to emulate them, and terrified about even trying to do so.  'Comedy', for me, was missing that edge, that fire and punch. 

Would I see the Reduced Shakespeare Company again?  Absolutely, in a heart beat and I would recommend that everyone tries to see them at least once.

Would I see 'Comedy' again?  I'm not sure.  I felt that, out of all the shows I have seen by the RSC, this was the weakest by far.  It was pleasant and perfectly nice, it just didn't leave tears of joy running down my cheeks like their other shows did.
 
If you like (or hate!) what you have read, please do let me know in the comments below or slap me with a cheeky follow, or say Hi to me on my Facebook group or Twitter or Instagram!

Wednesday, 29 October 2014

The House of Bernarda Alba

Next week I take to the Gulbenkian stage with a host of other fantastic women (and a couple of men as well, unusually for this show) for our Autumn production. 
This one has been a long time coming, with a longer rehearsal period than we are used to, but the results of that are really showing!
The House of Bernada Alba, by Lorca, is a 1930's Spanish play, written during the Spanish Civil War when groups of women were starting to question their traditional roles within the household and there was a thirst to throw off the shackles of repression that was endemic throughout rural Spanish culture of the time, a rising movement that was forced into submission when Mussolini invaded Spain.  Lorca was a passionate advocate of theatre as a motivator for social action, and the ideas and ideologies expressed by the more rebellious characters in Bernada Alba, coupled with his own outspoken liberal views and lifestyle, were enough to get him assassinated.  He did not live to see the play performed. 
The House of Bernada Alba was first performed in 1945.  It has since been performed hundreds of times around the world, is studied by school children, acts as a social commentary on rural Spanish life in the 1930's and has been adapted for film and television.
It is an incredibly powerful and intense play, a far cry for the lighthearted and gay Hay Fever by Noel Coward we performed over the summer, but this is one of the joys of amateur theatre - you really get the opportunity to try out your hand at pretty much any genre and we explore all areas of the craft.
We auditioned way back in June for our parts, and I was delighted to be cast as Amelia, the middle sister in the household.  Sally, our Director, has worked incredibly hard with us to draw out our own, individual characters (as the sisters can have a bit of a tendency to blur in the play if you are not careful) and it is this intensive style of rehearsal that has led to a very strong production.
This is a more stylized version than most, with the traditional Spanish elements being used as a reference point rather than dictating the feel of the play.  Costumes, for example, have no particular time period to reference but instead look as though they could be from anytime.  The colour scheme as well is pure black and silver - no other colour is allowed to bleed through, except for Adela's iconic green dress and Maria Josefa's tattered and pathetic wedding gown.
We have also been incredibly lucky to have our very own set of musicians.  Greg, from Green Diesel, has composed an original score for us which permeates through the play.  There are no sound effects, no pre-programmed music cues.  All the sound and music is live, played from the musicians sat amongst the audience or created by the actors voices.  This soundtrack gives the production the oppressive weight of a thunderstorm brewing on the horizon and is extremely atmospheric.  I've heard the music about 30 times now and know the play inside out, but last night, when we had the full set of musicians for the first time, and the action was punctuated by the drum and the guitar and the discordant bass, I felt the hairs on my arms and on the back of my neck rise as though triggered by electricity.  Good lord it was spine tinglingly effective!
As with any production, we have become close as a cast, especially given the fact that we have had a number of drop outs, including having to recast Adela at very short notice (Amy rose to the challenge and was off book before the rest of us, much to our shame!).  One of side-effects of being incredibly cruel and bitchy to each other on stage means that off stage, more often than not we are giggly and affectionate with each other.  There's only so much tearing of each other's hair you can do before you start to feel bad, even if it is only acting.
The amount of physicality this play has demanded has been quite high.  We see women being beaten by walking sticks, pulling each other's hair out, pushing and shoving each other, slapping each other and being dragged around by ropes.  It explores the darkest, most vindictive sides of female nature. 
The play itself is very intense, dark and repressive.  Modern days audiences may find it hard to relate to some of the ideologies expressed by the more traditional characters, with their comments about loose morals, women without men, class and the role of a woman in society, duty and obedience, but it was these very ideologies that Lorca was starting to question and could see being challenged in the world around him.  Lorca, as a homosexual, had an sympathy for oppressed groups, and he expanded this to include women.  Although he was in no way a feminist, in a peculiar way, this is possibly one of the most feminist plays I have ever encountered. 
One of the major challenges has been finding moments of lightness in amongst the oppression and repression of the play, and breaking up the constant tension that pervades through the language.  Our challenge has been to find pauses, snapshots of love and affection between the sisters and their mother.  These moments are few and far between but this makes them all the more important, and as a group we refused to believe that an entire family could only feel hatred for each other. 
We have steered away from the traditional image of The House of Bernada in other ways as well.  It is rare, very rare to have men cast in the production as they are referred to in the script, but never seen.  We have broken that and have a couple of fine gentlemen involved in a variety of roles!  Just wait until you hear them sing! 
We also never leave the stage - when not involved in a scene we hover on the edges, just outside of the light and we watch.  We stand and judge, condemning the action silently and having sentence passed on us in turn by the townsfolk around who add to the claustrophobia.  No matter what we do or how much we squirm, we cannot escape the critical eyes.
This play has been a long time coming - three nights a week, give or take, for three months, but I feel that we have a really impressive show on our hands now.
We have two more rehearsals this week, one on Thursday night and one on Saturday morning, then it is time to go to Wye on Sunday to load the van.  We get into the theatre on Monday, ready for build, and then it is curtain up for the first time on Thursday.
Wish us broken legs please!

If you want to buy a ticket, they are on sale at the Gulbenkian Theatre.  Shows are the 6th-8th November at 7.30pm.

Photo credit:  Les Gordon, from a (non costume) rehearsal

If you like (or hate!) what you have read, please do let me know in the comments below or slap me with a cheeky follow, or say Hi to me on my facebook group or twitter!


Monday, 20 October 2014

Glyndebourne @ The Marlowe

Do you fantasise about opera?  Do you have visions of stately evenings in sweeping taffeta ball gowns, midnight satin gloves caressing your arms to your elbows and gleaming jewels the value of a king’s ransom clasped about your throat as you sip vintage 1928 Krug from antique crystal glasses as the sun sets over the Seine?
Don Pasquale, Festival 2013, Photo: Clive Barda
Or are you like me, and you dream of opera that is fresh and exciting, accessible and vibrant but does not compromise on quality, performed by one of the greatest opera houses in the world? Opera that leaves you giddy for more, that trail blazes for a theatre genre that has a reputation for being elitist and stuffy?
Hippolyte et Aricie, Festival 2013.  Photo: Bill Cooper.
Sounds much more fun my way doesn’t it?  If you agree, then I have something that you may be interested in….
Glyndebourne, founded in the 1930’s by John and Audrey Christie, has just started its Autumn Tour and is coming to the Marlowe Theatre from the 4th-8th November with three different productions.  The Turn of the Screw is based on the Henry James novel, and the other two are hot off the press from the Glyndebourne Summer Festival; La traviata (the Fallen Woman) and the lesser known La finta giardiniera, an opera buffa by Mozart that was first produced two weeks before his 19th birthday.  
La traviata, Tour 2014
You just know that Mozart was the kind of kid that made everyone else feel bad about their life accomplishments when in conversation with him.  Can you imagine?  You: “What did you do this weekend? I didn’t die from cholera and drank a lot of gin.  Mozart: “Well done, that’s really impressive!  Me?  Oh I just composed an entire opera”.  Makes you go a little green around the gills, doesn’t it.
Glyndebourne’s name is synonymous with British opera.  Based in Sussex, Glyndebourne perform to 150,000 people every year over the course of about 120 performances.  Glyndebourne’s motto for 80 years (happy 80th by the way!) has been ‘not the best we can do but the best that can be done anywhere’ and this vision can be seen and felt throughout every element of their work.  I bet you didn’t know, for example, that Glyndebourne founded The Edinburgh Festival in 1947 with productions of Un ballo in maschere and Ariadne auf Naxos.
The Glyndebourne Summer Festival allows people the opportunity to fall in love with opera under the stars, picnicking in evening dress.  Their tours take them all over the world, performing live in opera houses and having their productions screened in cinemas from Tokyo to New York.  Their education programme makes opera relevant to everyday life, with their work with schools, young composers, youth opera and supporting individuals with dementia and their carers. 
They are also environmentally conscious, even having their very own wind turbine!
In layman’s terms; it’s the kind of organisation that gives you the warming feel good squishy’s inside.
Glyndebourne are proud of what they have achieved, but they are also savvy enough not to rest on their laurels, no matter how impressive those laurels are.  In their words, they are an institution, not a museum and they are propelled by their sense of adventure.  They take risks, they tackle materials in new ways, they take operas that are lesser known and underperformed (like La finta giardiniera) and newly commissioned and debuts them like young socialites at the Crillon Ball in front of expectant audiences.  It can also act as a launching pad for the careers of young directors and actors, operatic and theatrical alike, allowing them the chance to let their creativity explode onto the Glyndebourne stage.
Hänsel und Gretel Tour 2013.  Photo: Robbie Jack
Something that is really important to Glyndebourne (and quite rare in the arts world today) is their financial independence.  They are a registered charity and, whilst receiving some support (which they are grateful for) from the Arts Council for the Tour and their educational work, they are basically financially self-sufficient, funded through box office sales and members and supporters.  This is what allows Glyndebourne to be creative and original – they are free to be themselves and also have the luxury of extensive preparation and rehearsal periods, all of which translates to excellence in performance.
L'enfant et les sortilèges, Festival 2012.  Photo: Simon Annand
Glyndebourne is also trying to dispel the myth that opera is too expensive for people on average salaries.  Of course, you can still fork out nearly £200 for a really superb seat and experience, but you can also pay £10 for standing room or £30 if you are under 30 on one of their under-30’s nights (there were a lot of 30’s in that sentence).  Tour tickets obviously vary from theatre to theatre but can start from as little as £15.  If you are still not convinced, you can always pop to the cinema and watch one of their live screenings for the price of a regular cinema ticket. 
Opera is no longer exclusive and elitist.  It is for everyone, and everyone should experience opera live at least once in their lives.

Tickets are currently on sale for the three highly acclaimed productions at the Marlowe Theatre, ticket prices vary from £29-£60pp (concessions available, booking fee applies)

In addition you can catch a screening of The Cunning Little Vixen at The Gulbenkian Theatre on the 2nd November.
The Cunning Little Vixen Festival 2012. Photo: Bill Cooper
I'll be going to see La finta giardiniera, so keep your eyes peeled for the post in the near future!


If you like (or hate!) what you have read, please do let me know in the comments below or slap me with a cheeky follow, or say Hi to me on my Facebook group or Twitter or Instagram!

*This is a sponsored post, and I want to thank Glyndebourne for their support of Miscriant and being such a joy to work with!*

Tuesday, 22 July 2014

Hay Fever

Thank you for the "bless you" you just bestowed upon me, but I don't actually mean that sort of Hay Fever.  I'm incredibly lucky in that I have never suffered from it - touch wood - and seeing how miserable it makes some of my friends and family, I'm quite happy living life without it.

I'm not talking about the Hay Fever that makes you miserable.  I'm talking about the Hay Fever that makes you happy!  1920's bohemian farce happy!
I promise you, the audience at least was laughing.

Hay Fever is a Noel Coward play and the latest offering from the Canterbury Players vault.  We performed it in June and, joy of joys, all I had to do for a change was take some pictures!  I was not involved at all.  The Demon Gin was though - this was her directorial debut and I personally think she handled it spiffingly.  Her severely depleted gin supplies may tell a different story.
Steve was heavily involved though - he, along with Derek and Nick, managed to build us one of the best sets I think we have seen in a while.  It looked spectacular, even if it was a slightly more rushed job than normal due to a let down with the company we thought we could rent a set off.  The finished product was spectacular though and in my humble opinion, much better than the one we would have hired.  For starters, it had the right number of entrances and exits needed (5 in total).
So Hay Fever?  Ready for the picture story book as is now traditional on this blog?
At the country pile mansion of the dreadfully bohemian Bliss family, events are starting to get a bit chaotic.  Sorel and Simon, the grown up children of the family, are squabbling as normal and during the course of their discussion realise that both of them have invited guests to stay for the weekend.  A fight breaks out over whose guest gets to stay in the Japanese Room.
During the course of their argument, which is interjected with lots of affectionate phrases, dramatic outbursts and reasonable discourse, we learn that Sorel has a desire to better herself, to make guests feel welcome and that she feels that their family is odd.  We get a glimpse into the workings of the family - the conversation is flighty, never staying on one subject for very long and the outbursts are melodramatic exaggerations.
During the course of the conversation, Judith, the matriarch of the Bliss family enters.  If the children are melodramatic, Judith is insufferable with her absent-minded theatricality.  She is a retired stage actress who longs to return to her doting audiences (the fact that they haven't written begging her to come back is a particularly sore point).
Upon learning that their mother has also invited a guest for the weekend, a heated argument breaks out amongst the three, over the individuals who have been invited and who gets to sleep in the Japanese room.
The noise causes the father, David to enter the room.  David is a novelist who is working on his latest book.  He learns what all the hullabaloo is about, drinks his tea and calmly informs his wife and children that he has invited a sweet, but rather stupid flapper to the house for the weekend so he can study her.
She will be sleeping in the Japanese room and on that bombshell, leaves the rest of the family to process the news and anticipate the looming weekend of horror they each imagine in front of them.  After the children's tantrums Judith admonishes that they must all be "very brave".
Judith announces that she has decided to return to the theatre, possibly reviving one of her old hits, Love's Whirlwind, despite the fact that it is a dreadful play.  She, Sorel and Simon amuse themselves by acting out a melodramatic passage from the play, beginning with the words "Is this a game?  Yes, and a game that must be played to the end!".
These few lines are repeated throughout the play, to the utter bewilderment of their guests.  Just as they are in full swing they are interrupted, much to the anger of Simon and Sorel, by the arrival of Sandy Tyrell.  A sportsman and a big fan of Judith's, he is her guest for the weekend.  Simon and Sorel leave to get ready for the arrival of their guests, but not before being incredibly rude to Sandy.
Alone with Sandy, Judith flirts with him outrageously while he hangs on her every word.  His bubble is somewhat bursts after a passing comment that her husband is not actually dead as he had thought but instead upstairs and writing his novel.
Myra is the next guest to arrive.  A younger rival of Judith's and very vampish, she has been invited to stay by Simon.  She clearly has little time for the particular quirks and foibles of the Bliss family and imparts a few pointed jibes in Judith's direction. Upon her arrival Judith goes into the garden with Sandy.  Myra, alone with Simon, blows hot and cold with him, first leading him on then announcing that she recently had dinner with another man.  Simon reacts like a child, following tantrums with fawning adoration. 
The last to arrive are Richard, a diplomat and Sorel's guest and Jackie, David's guest.  Upon their arrival Simon drags Myra out into the garden, leaving both Richard and Jackie alone in the parlour as they await their hosts. 
The waiting is painful as the two make excruciatingly polite small talk with each other.  There is clearly an intelligence gap between the two.  The pauses between them become longer as they fight for things to stay.  At one point Judith breezes through the room, picks up a sun hat and breezes back out again, humming slightly, without acknowledging either of the two guests sitting awkwardly.  Finally it occurs to them to ring a bell for assistance as they have seen no one.  They ring the bell and wait expectantly, staring at it.  No one comes.
Eventually Sorel comes running downstairs, full of remorse at the fact that Richard has been kept waiting.  She reluctantly shows Jackie the way to David's writing room, then sits and attempts to entertain Richard.  She is full of nervous energy and cannot stick with one idea long enough to see it through.  Richard, whilst a little bemused by the situation, is gracious and clearly fascinated with her.
After Richard has politely fetched the luggage in for all the guests ('assisted' by a relatively inept and over enthusiastic Sorel), the remainder of the guests and the Bliss family join Sorel and Richard in the parlour for afternoon tea.
Conversation is again stilted and awkward amongst the entire party, with Richard and Myra frequently starting new topics of conversation at the same moment as each other and then both falling quiet.  The scene ends in total, agonizingly awkward silence.
The next scene is the same day, following dinner.  The family insists that everyone needs to join in a parlour game, a variety of charades where one person must guess the adverb being acted out by the others.  Sorel volunteers to guess but the Bliss family become frustrated when the guests appear to be incapable of performing to their standards.
As the game breaks up, tempers fare and arguments break out amongst the Bliss's and some of their guests.  Simon drags Jackie out into the garden, Sorel drags Sandy into the library and David, after arguing with Judith, pointedly invites Myra for a walk outside.  She accepts with a triumphant glance thrown back at Judith and swaggers out into the garden with David.
Left alone with Richard, who is awkwardly attempting to ignore everything he has just witnessed, Judith turns her attentions to him.  She flirts with him, sings for him and admires his cigarette case.  He is clearly infatuated and kisses her quickly.
Judith reacts as though she has been shot, screeching out the effect that this will have on David and acting as though she and Richard have been conducting a long, sordid affair.  She completely takes Richard aback when she starts to talk about breaking the news to David.
She orders Richard to wait for her in the Summer House so she can talk to her husband.  Richard quickly leaves, at which point Judith immediately calms down and with a smile on her face, heads to the library.  There, a second screech is ripped from her throat as she discovers Sorel and Sandy kissing.  Judith launches into another melodramatic tirade and then graciously 'gives' Sandy to Sorel.  Sorel, clearly playing along with her mother's histrionics, accepts as graciously whilst Sandy is hard pushed to get a word in edgeways.
Judith leaves and Sorel explains to Sandy that it is all just play acting - that everyone in the house has to play up to Mother.  Much relieved that he is not actually engaged to Sorel, Sandy takes her back into the library.
David and Myra enter from the garden, David delighted that he has found such a pair of willing ears in Myra.  Myra confesses to him that the only reason she accepted Simon's invitation to come to the house was because she knew that David would be here.  The two flirt, argue and then kiss, at which point Judith enters.
Judith, naturally, has an extreme, overly dramatic reaction to what she sees.  She acts the martyr, clearly reveling in the role and releases David from all his obligations to her.  A delighted David promises that she will continue to receive 50% of all his profits and exclaims that he and Myra are now free to marry.  A clearly alarmed Myra trys to halt the rapidly escalating events in front of her, but, like Sandy before her, cannot get a word in edgeways.
The only thing that saves Myra is the dramatic entrance by Simon, who comes running in from the garden violently and announces that he and Jackie are engaged, followed by an extremely shell-shocked looking Jackie.
Sorel and Sandy come running back in from the library, Judith enters yet another bout of theatrics and complete pandemonium breaks out.  In the midst of it all, Richard comes back from the garden and, utterly confused by what he sees happening in front of him, asks 'Is this a game?'.  Simon, Sorel and Judith immediately seize on this and launch into the scene from Love's Whirlwind that they were playing out earlier, to the absolute bafflement of their guests whilst David laughs uproariously.  The scene ends.

The next morning a very nervous Sandy creeps down the stairs, clearly desperate not to wake any members of the family.  He serves himself some breakfast and gulps the food down as quickly as possible.  Upon hearing a noise, he grab a slice of toast and runs into the library.
A cool, calm and collected Jackie walks down the stairs.  She serves herself some food, takes her seat at the table, and promptly bursts into tears.  Upon hearing her cry, Sandy comes out of the library.  He learns that Jackie has no idea what happened last night.  She was walking in the garden with Simon, he suddenly kissed her out of the blue then went running into the house announcing that they were engaged, something she fervently hopes isn't the case.  They talk about how crazy the entire family is and how utterly miserable they both are staying here.  Jackie slept in the Japanese room and hated it as the bed was Japanese style on the floor and she had nightmares about the dragons on the wall.  Sandy gets an attack of the hiccups and Jackie attempts to help him cure them with various techniques.  Upon hearing footsteps, they both retreat to the Library with a cup of coffee that Sandy needs to drink from the wrong side of.
Richard is the next to come downstairs.  He checks the barometer on the wall and accidentally knocks it down.  He hides it under the chaise.  He is joined by Myra, who is the most calm and collected of the four guests, but still anxious to leave.  Jackie and Sandy come out of the Library after breaking a coffee cup much to the ire of Clara, the much put-upon house maid (previously Judith's dresser in the theatre).  Clara informs the party that they have missed the first train and that there wasn't another one for a good few hours.  Sandy notes that he has his motor car with him and agrees to drive them all back to London immediately.  They all go upstairs to pack.
Judith comes down. Clara hands her the Sunday papers and she begins reading aloud to Sorel what the gossip columns have to say about her.  Simon shares his most recent drawing with his mother and sister, and then David enters, brandishing his finished novel and offers to read them the final chapter.
Just before David sits down, Sandy comes running down the stairs, pauses when he sees the family and then runs out of the front door.  Judith remarks that she 'seems to know that boy's face'.  The rest of the family shrug off the occurrence and turn their attention to David who begins reading aloud.  Immediately a full scale argument breaks out over a minor geography detail of Paris and its accuracy within David's novel.  Insults are hurled at each other, with David exclaiming that the children's behaviour is so dreadful he is not even sure if they are his.
The family are so engrossed in their argument that they don't notice the four guests sneaking down the stairs and running out of the front door.  The sound of the door slamming shut, an engine starting and a car driving away finally alerts them to the fact that their guests have all gone.
After Sorel notes that they didn't say goodbye, Judith comments 'How rude' and David adds that 'people really do behave in the most extraordinary manner these days'.  The Bliss' return happily to David manuscript, with David making the geographical amendment to please Judith, and Judith announcing to David that she is returning to the theatre, to the delight of the rest of her family.  They are clearly content in their everyday family life. 
If you like (or hate!) what you have read, please do let me know in the comments below or slap me with a cheeky follow, or say Hi to me on my facebook group or twitter!