War is...well, you know

Journey’s End takes place in the trenches of the First World War. First produced in 1928, this play, just like in almost every theatrical war before and since, men bitch and laugh and cry and die. Saying Journey’s End is relevant to our present war in Iraq is redundant. Journey’s End is relevant, it’s just time that has no meaning. And maybe that’s the built-in flaw of the current, very earnest and exceptionally performed Broadway production. Not much is new in the theater of war, whether it is Iraq or Broadway. We’ve seen the movies. We’ve seen the television shows and documentaries. Carnage at Anteitum and Thermopylae and Vietnam is pretty much identical to the carnage in the trenches of Saint-Wherever-We-Are in Journey’s End. I’m not saying I wasn’t moved by the play…actually, I was mush.

Due to “lack of interest” (reportedly many performances filled only about 25% of the seats) this production is scheduled to close on June 10th and, frankly, that’s what got me off my ass to go. The reviews were universal raves and a “must see,” etc. so I felt I should hie myself to the trenches. It’s quite likely Journey’s End will win several Tony Awards this year and deservedly so. Nonetheless, people stayed away in droves and it took a closing notice to goose attendance (the matinee yesterday was almost full). I’m glad I saw it but a good dose of sugar from Mary Poppins afterwards might have been just the double bill in which I should have indulged. Or maybe I should have just traipsed over to the lower east side and gotten something pierced to take away the pain.