I received a phone call early in December from a contact of mine, with the offer of a spare ticket to the exclusive opening night, on 13th December, of a show called It’s a Boy.
So exclusive were the bright young performers, so secretive was their choreography, and so precocious their talent that the cast was whisked away from all interaction with the audience. We were severely warned by the compere that we should not take pictures or videos. Such divas.
The plot was an age old tale of struggle and determination with a joyful denouement. There was many a twist and the odd unexpected jazz number.
An adaptation of the traditional nativity, It’s a Boy replaced the obligatory 3 shepherds and their flock of sheep with a mob of 12 hippies in tie-dye smocks and teatowel headdresses (perhaps they’d had a visit from Gabriel with a weather warning). One of the inn-keepers sported the same humour and gusto as that of the cheery publican from Eastenders (our more popular, modern day nativity; they too have had miracle baby/who-dun-her stories re-told year upon year).
The star of the show quite literally twinkled, twinkled throughout and led three wise men and their not so wise camel-boys to the stable (who needs sat nav??) to be met by a labourer and a worn out young mum who had given birth to a very white-looking, incredibly resilient baby. Even when he was swung round and round by his leg, the baby maintained perfect composure.
Credit must be extended to the writers and their absolute genius composition and humour. Each and every line rhymed with the previous and the next.
The cast was a 30-plus strong team of mixed abilities. Those whose talents fell short quickly made up by singing faster and louder or performing alternative dance moves. Some took to distracting the audience, ensuring that everyone was entertained: waving, crying, nose-picking and, may I add, a few toileting issues.
Technically, Marton Primary School’s It’s a Boy was shaky, disorganised, out of tune and more cues were missed than hit. Many of us have been to a show similar, this year, last year, or anticipate such shows in the future. The School Christmas Nativity; adored by parents, aunties, uncles and grandparents. Detested by all others. It brings me utter joy, sets me on the edge of my seat and leaves on the brink of crying. I wouldn’t change it for anything.
Merry Christmas x
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