Dear Galileo’s Daughter at the Theatre on San Pedro Square,
We need to talk.
This isn’t going to be easy. It’s not going to workout. For us I mean. Oh, don’t look at me that way. You’re a nice play, and one day, some audience member out there is really going to like you. I mean love you. Probably a lot. And you will love them back, But, that audience member isn’t me. You see that’s the thing…
It’s not you, it’s me.
You’re nice enough to look at with your heavy metaphorical set design, it’s not that. And, I know your actors are totally committed and acting the best they can, exactly the way the director and playwright probably want them too. And with two of your actors not speaking English as a first language, I’m in awe, really. I mean, that’s got to be super difficult. It’s commendable even. And, I even found myself humming some of the new age celestial time-warp type music during all your many, many onstage costume changes, but, that doesn’t mean that it’s going to workout between us.
We come from two totally different backgrounds.
It’s fundamentally broken, you and I. You come from that free-spirited, abstract, interpretive dance kind of space that pits God and Science and History against each other in an experimental, static and bizarre, actor’s warmup kind of way. I like more of a linear plot I guess. A play without giant black angel wings and huge wooden crucifixes. A play without silly voices and large platform shoes that just don’t seem to have a purpose. I just can’t get on that crazy train Galileo’s Daughter. That’s not my truth. And we have to be true to ourselves. Don’t we? You said that a lot last night. I mean I got that much. So I think you probably agree, you wouldn’t want me denying the truth. Not to you and not to myself. And the truth is…
I need a break.
While we’re putting everything out there, I should also let you know that your 90 minutes without an intermission, was just too much. Maybe it’s generational. I’ll take the blame. But, for the love of all things holy, is it too much to ask for a breather from the onslaught of WTF does it all mean moments so I can at least attempt to sort out the layers? I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I let my emotions get the best of me. I had such hopes you see. You seemed so great. Maybe that’s the problem. I just kept comparing you to other plays I’ve seen and my expectations sabotaged me. No matter. It is what it is.
I probably should have told you to your face.
Breaking up with a play online, is admittedly a bit cowardly. I never wanted to be the bad guy. Please don’t be mad. I’m certainly going to come back to your theatre. I mean, I don’t hold it against you. It’s not personal, you understand? I know when I give you 1 out of 5 jewels on the tiara, you won’t fall apart. You are strong. I know you’ll be just fine. And, like I said, someone is going to come into the theatre this last weekend of your run and be so moved by your content and presentation. And, you will probably thank me for letting you go.
Best of Luck,
The Princess
Artsalot 