Judgy much?

You know that thing about books and covers?

I went to see that production of Talk Radio on Sunday afternoon. My play buddy and I simultaneously had the “Thank heaven it’s in the daylight” moment as we drove into the area where the show was. Not the sort of area you want to be driving around while female at night. During weekdays, I’m sure it’s a bustling warehouse area. On the weekends? Mildly post-apocalyptic.

We finally found the place. Luckily, they called themselves the Green Zone. And it’s quite apropos. It’s this giant detached garage with three loading doors, painted a kicky shade of Kelly green. Also apropos because the neighborhood looked mildly Baghdad-ish, complete with the Iraq Museum of Antiquities next door. It was this giant, fenced-in parking lot with all of these big brass and iron statues in different states of disintegration. The kind of pieces you’d buy for your garden, if you’ve got a modest acre plot. Big horses in mid-gallop. Weeping Greek ladies. Longhorn cattle. A large male torso that has rather unfortunate bits missing (head, limbs, other accessories). Well. Unfortunate for him. Anatomically correct it would be a rather intimidating bit of bric-a-brac to have around the manse. It was very large. The parking lot for the theater was also fenced. Chain link is never a good sign for your personal security.

We went in, past the grindingly institutional lobby, the size of a bathroom stall, and right into a really well built theater. Blink, blink. Did we just teleport? Because this isn’t the theater that was inside the building we just entered. That theater was 20 folding chairs and Ikea track lighting used for spotlights. This TARDIS of a theater was spacious, well equipped, and adequately seated (though at the 80 minute mark, I started to get a raging case of church pew butt – wiggle, wiggle, wiggle). Huh. Who knew? I’ve had several experiences here in Dallas where the plucky, let’s put on a show chutzpah is supposed to make up for crap surroundings. And that’s, frankly, what I was expecting here. Not so, Doubting Thomasina. Not so.

Happily, the show was up to snuff too. I can tolerate a bad show in a good space, but bear grudges about a good show in a bad space. (Arbitrary, but I’m okay with that.) But this was a good show in a good place. Nothing to complain about. I’d recommend going to this or any other play at the Green Zone. Though I, myself, won’t be doing a night show. Unless I make friends with a new play buddy who’s a green beret.