The Lion in Winter

It was a cold winter night in New York, when I watched Al Pacino on stage. My brother quoted from a review he came across online and refused to have anything to do with the watching. "The world is divided into two types of people: die hard Al Pacino fans and the rest of us."I belong to the first category and I usually take my fandom very seriously.

So I sat alone in a crowded theater in anticipation and excitement. I usually enjoy plays- the live projection of human life, on a raised platform, cut off as it appears from the audience by a ring of light. I'm usually not disappointed by plays. The stage set up and lighting add to the attraction they hold for me.

I spent the first few minutes struggling with the accents and the cultural references I couldn't catch onto immediately  (snide remarks about stingy Patels not withstanding). Al Pacino looked convincing as the shabby old man, but appeared a bit jaded and played the part with mechanical ease.  The theme was a familiar one of changing times and the young replacing the old. It engaged me and I enjoyed the overall experience, good stage set up, lighting and script. I did not agree with some of the reviews I had read, but then perhaps I am not as discerning and enlightened as those critics.

As I walked towards the exit bracing myself to face the cold wind I felt ecstatic about having seen Al Pacino live in flesh and blood.