Once 6:00pm rolled around, my classmates and I dashed downstairs and headed to the South Kensington tube station. It's my first time in England, and I'm already enchanted by the sights and sounds around me. At first glance, there are some aspects of London that are similar to back home, and the city almost reminds me of Manhattan or any other downtown area in the U.S.; however, upon a closer look, it's apparent that we're in another, far-away country. There are a plethora of British accents, and I'm sure people can notice we're American by our boisterous mannerisms and different way of speaking. With all the cars driving on the left side of the road, I know I'd definitely get in an accident if I was behind the wheel. I've also noted subtle differences in common phrases. While boarding my U.K. bound flight back in San Diego, I realized that "flight card" meant "boarding pass" when a flight attendant had asked to see mine. Even today, I saw a sign in a store-front window that said "we are recruiting" rather than "we are hiring." In time, I hope to pick up on all these minor differences between British and American dialects.
After a short tube ride, we arrived in the heart of Leicester Square. This area of London was thriving with street performers, lively music, and the hustle and bustle of people making their way around the city on a Friday night. We walked a short distance to the theater and made our way inside as the anticipation built up inside me.
The lights dimmed and a loud voice boomed over the speaker, hyping up the crowd for this unique twist on Shakespeare. A woman appeared decked out in costume and showed the audience exactly how much the sh*tfaced actor had to drink that night; by the look of all the empty bottles of alcohol onstage, I knew that this individual was 100% sh*tfaced. The woman handed a gong and a trumpet to two different audience members, allowing them to play their instrument at any point in the play to signify that the sh*tfaced actor should take another drink.
About 15 minutes into the show, it was clear that the character Jessica was the poor soul chosen that night to get smashed for the audience's amusement. The actress hilariously stumbled around onstage, blurting out innuendos, blatantly claiming she forgot her lines, and calling her co-stars by their real, offstage names. The whole crowd was cackling at Jessica's insane attempts to carry on with the play. My friends and I kept cracking jokes with each other as we observed all the actors trying to keep up with the plot and finish out the act.
When I first signed up for London Rocks, I never imagined a drunken interpretation of Shakespeare would come along with it. Getting Sh*tfaced (or rather watching another woman get sh*tfaced) in Leicester Square was the perfect way to kick off my time in England. This hilarious take on Merchant of Venice brought me back to Chapter Seven of John Berger's Ways of Seeing, in which he describes publicity images being "continually renewed and made up-to-date... [they] refer to the past and always speak of the future." (130) While this play isn't exactly an advertisement, it is a reinvention of a classic performance, one that references the past through a modern window of a drunken spectacle. Judging from the audience's enjoyment of watching and relating to the drunken woman onstage, I'm sure Sh*tfaced Shakespeare will continue to thrive in the heart of London.
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