Le Roi Se Meurt--Exit the King

Okay, full disclosure: The first big acting role I had at Tufts, oh so back in the day, was the king in Ionesco’s, Exit the King.

I also performed it some, in the original French, in French Theatre class.

And, I once had lunch with Ionesco and his wife in a lovely apartment in Paris, in the 1980’s. They were both short and M. Ionesco was still bitter over Hollywood’s rendition of Rhinoceros. Tant pis!

So, I am one of these well-acquainted Ionesco, Exit the King guys.

Listen up: Geoffrey Rush should have cut that dang script the way we cut it in college: lop off about a third of it, get rid of intermission, and let that king go ape shit and die, quick!

It’s a hard play. The same beat is played over and over again. Characters do not develop. And it isn’t even really that absurd---more like a fanciful Death of Ivan Ilyich—A fine book.

It does have much to say about vanity and blindness.

You know, when I had lunch with Ionesco, I had this feeling that he was misunderstood for a reason.

Now, the actors were all splendid. Physical. Staged well enough. All that.

But pushing yourself through the paces---the same paces---over and over again. It has more of a hypnotic effect than a theatrical one.

But that’s just me.

At today’s performance, there was quite a standing ovation.