Curtain Call

Witch is dizzy from bowing...

So, we've redone the end of the show. About time. I know the curtain call is way down on the "to do" list, but it was getting just a little embarrassing, straggling on all higgledy-piggledy like Aunt Sally's Ballet Academy annual display. A few half-baked bows to a piece of music that ran out thirty seconds too early was not going to cut it.

After two weeks of this increasingly awkward proceedure, I began to wonder if it would ever get changed, or if the creatives had forgotten about us and we were doomed to a finale of embarrassing entrances and excruciating exits.

I failed to remember one thing: Anthony Van Laast.

The king of the curtain call, the don of the encore, the man who single-handedly invented the megamix (remember Joseph?), Anthony Van Laast is a force to be reckoned with when it comes to the matter of stooping one's head to the merry tune of applause.

We started off in the usual way - ensemble, followed by semi-demis, principals and top turn. Nothing new there. Every West End and Broadway show seems to follow the same pattern these days. We dutifully followed the formula before piling into the wings, relieved at such a quick and painless curtain call.

But what was this? A false exit? Surely not?

We were herded back on stage quicker than Liza to the bar. Round two of the bows. Okay, fair enough, I conceded. The show gets a standing ovation most evenings. Let's not be selfish here.

After the seventh bow, I was beginning to feel a little like a weeble. But surely this must be it now?

Almost.

Just a quick verse of Raise Your Voice, and you're done, said the voice over the God mic.

Okay, a simple reprise. I could handle that. It was the show's signature tune, after all. I wouldn't begrudge them that. But that really must be it. He wouldn't make us do any more. We finished and turned to go.

Onemorebow! screamed the God mic.

I think I did nine bows in total. And that was just me. So, with all the principals, including several for Sheila and Patina, the figure must have surely reached the twenties. Maybe even the thirties.

I'll count tonight. Maybe I'll have a little sweepstake. Answers on a postcard, please...