Your Humble Blogger hasn’t written here about the reviews of Pyggie, three of which have come out and been positive. I suspect we are going to get one more, possibly two, but it’s also possible that there won’t be any more. Still, three positive reviews is three positive reviews, and one is in a newspaper with a circulation of thirty thousand, and one is in a newspaper with a circulation of more than fifty thousand (wow! that surprises me), so, you know, not bad. I won’t link to them here, as that for some reason busts my pseudonymyty sense, but I suspect Gentle Readers in the area have sufficient Google Skillz to find them should they be interested.
The thing about the reviews from my point of view is that they haven’t been effusive about me personally. Two of them don’t mention me at all, in fact, and the third says I am “lively” and that I am not old enough to be Eliza’s father, and suggests that Rich Alfie should be “eliminated altogether”. The reviewer also uses the word “hilarious” to describe the part, although that seems to me aimed more at Shaw than at me, but still, the word is connected to my performance, so that’s all right.
Now, I’m in a supporting part here. There isn’t any particular reason for a reviewer to say anything about me, and given the limitations of newspapers, there is a reason to leave out anything you can. And you may think that as long as nobody says anything nasty about me, I should be happy—after all, as a supporting actor, it is my job to support the story, not to draw attention away from it. Still, I am enough of an egotist to want to see a reviewer say “A highlight of the show was…”
I oughtn’t sulk, and in fact I am not sulking as much as it sounds like I am. The important thing about reviews is not the personal affirmation, but the butts in seats. These reviews should help with butts in seats. So that’s all right.
Tolerabimus quod tolerare debemus,
-Vardibidian.