Foxy

Last weekend, with picture perfect weather, IronMan and I headed for Niagara-On-The-Lake for some wine (he can’t drink wine, so I was drinking for two), a picnic and a spot of theatre. I have never been very good at sticking to a budget, but with the impending trip to France next year, I have tried. But when I discovered that The Little Foxes was on at the Shaw this, I had to make and exception.

This Lillian Hellman play was made into a splendid movie in 1941 and starred Bette Davis. As I settled into my seat at the Royal George Theatre I was impressed by the set. The staircase was there, the piano and the period furniture was all as I had hoped for. But how were they going to make a set change for the dinner party, and what about the scenes at the bank? Panic began to set in as the play started.

I quickly discovered that there was to be one set and that some of the more dramatic parts were implied to have taken place elsewhere, while the dialogue moved into the Hubbard’s living room. I was mildly disappointed when Regina made her way on stage – while Laurie Paton did a good job, she was no Bette. But then, who is? Oscar over delivered some of his lines here and there but Sharry Flett did a good Birdie. Poor thing. I know how she feels with those awful headaches.

At intermission, I delivered a somewhat backhanded compliment to IronMan by saying he was the best looking one in the theatre. Given that there were about 20 years between us and the next youngest patron, he took it with a grain of salt. I was quick to point out two cute ushers, and that elevated my remark to least a compliment level. Or at least you could see it from there.

I have to say I was surprised at the “advanced” years of the audience. I thought people that age would all be home tucked in bed at the hour of 8:00. Or perhaps waiting outside the local diner waiting for it to open and offer its early bird special. I guess they wanted a stroll down memory lane and a set from 1900 was just the ticket. The house was packed and I guess that is the important thing.

Play over, we headed to our hotel for some well deserved slumber – N-O-T-L is not known for its nightlife. The following morning we had a YUMMY brunch at The Queen’s Landing. Feeling a bit like Regina, I scanned the room and was disappointed at the standard of dress some people adopted. Really, an Iron Maiden t-shirt at brunch? At the Queen’s Landing? Really? Oh my.

I tucked into my omelet and discussed the idea of producing a line of Iron Man dishes to sell down in Lake Placid next year. They have everything from pens to backpacks, so why not eat your Wheaties out of a bowl with the Iron Man symbol at the bottom. “Isn’t that a girl on your dish”. (That one is for CJ and Dollhouse Girls).

All round, it was a fabulous weekend. If you get the chance, see the play. But if you miss it, definitely watch the movie (I have it if you want to borrow) – it is fabulous.