The Pledge
Phenomenal Performance At ‘The Forgotten’ Premiere
London: Royce’s “The Forgotten” gave everything that performances could offer. Helmed by a strong and captivating script with an interesting plotline to follow, the set of the play was a remarkable longshot in terms of artistic grandeur.
The plotline left nothing to be desired; it was a quick succession of well-flowing scenes, nailing emotional engagement. The play took the viewer through an emotional journey, quite akin to a rollercoaster. The dialogues were succinct, efficient yet quite expressive, a combination that is not the easiest feat to achieve. Yet they managed to do so and boy, did it work in their favour. The soundtrack went hand in hand, complimenting the story and the acting effortlessly, especially in the scenes of intense sentiment and drama.
The drama, the suspense and the emotions were exceptionally conveyed by the stellar cast. Though a strong script and production certainly did help, the acting elevated the play to another level altogether. Every person on stage, regardless of the role they played, bounced off of each other’s energies, bringing up the overall enthusiasm of the theatre.
It would be unfair not to recognise the dedication and effort put in by the lead actor Henry Larson, commanding immediate and immense attention to every second of his performance. His portrayal of the character was exceptionally life-like, considering the plethora of vibrant and contrasting emotions he was expected to deliver. His remarkable skill-set stood out all the way to the final act of the play, which people think puts him in the ranks of Sergeant Hans Evans, if not much higher. The execution scene stands out as one of the most memorable and moving scenes in recent theatre history. He stayed true to the depiction of the execution, up until the character’s final breath.
The detective put down his drink and scanned the room. His gaze moved from the clipping on the wall to the “stage” under it, where the barkeep was polishing the counter. “Its all a marketing stunt”, he thought, scoffing at the idea of interior décor being a homage to the town’s theatre scene.
“If they really wanted to pay homage,’’ he muttered, “ they shouldn’t have let the theatre go bankrupt in the first place.”
“That I agree with.”
Sitting on the end of the L-shaped table was the owner of the voice that spoke. He moved towards the detective, motioning to ask if it’s alright to sit down next to him. The latter nodded, figuring that he didn’t have anything else to do at present.
“Come here often?” the stranger asked.
“Well”, the detective started, “more or less. You’re not from around here, aren’t you?”
“ ’fraid not. Just a theatre buff dropping in. Heard it was the 50th anniversary of this theatre?”
The detective replied in the affirmative. “Aye, it is. This place was the heart and soul of our town.”
“What happened?”
“That”, he said, pointing towards the same clipping he was reading. “That was the downfall of it all.”
The stranger, with his curiosity now aroused, beckoned him to speak more.
“Why is that? Was the play that bad?”
Shaking his head, the detective said, “No. On the contrary, it was too real.”
Confusion was now strewn across the stranger’s face, and with his eyebrows creased, he asked “I don’t understand. How is that possible?”
“Check that out. The execution scene they’re talking about there? It drew a standing ovation from the crowd for its portrayal. Henry Larson played it like it was real. Or so we thought. Because right after the curtains closed, it was found that…”
“That he’d actually died?” the stranger finished his sentence.
“Yes. His neck had been snapped from the contraction. The way his eyes rolled wasn’t acting, and neither was his tongue coming out. I was the detective assigned to the case.”
This greatly piqued the stranger’s interest.
“What did you find?”
“Well, upon inspection of the scene, I realized that the rope which was supposed to hold up his neck was cut short in production. He was to land on his toes on the platform, hidden from the audience. That was the plan throughout rehearsals. And yet, during the fateful performance, the rope was short by just enough, a few centimetres, for him to die.
‘The fraying on the rope was evident enough. And that began the whole scandal.”
The detective became morose and ordered another drink. As he took a swig, his mind did what it had been doing for the past few years: recount the entire investigation, checking for chinks in the armour of the suspects that he couldn’t see. So when the stranger probed him further, he was only glad to speak out his thoughts.
“I’m not sure you can be of any help here,’’ he started.
“Try me.”
“Well, alright. See if you can spot something that I missed.”
The detective began narrating.
‘As I was about the leave the theatre, I got called backstage. There he was, sprawled on the ground, dead as a dodo. Thus, began the investigation. After the usual interrogation over the next few days, one thing became evident. Of all the suspects we had, four topped the list, owing to their proximity and their motives.”
The stranger was now engrossed. Not caring for his beer turning warm, he asked,
“Who were they?”
“Well, the first was the production manager. A curious chap, that. His enmity with the lead was public knowledge and the malfunction naturally made him number one on our list.”
