Fuck You, Andrew Lloyd Webber
Seriously, fuck you
Imagine you’re a cast or crew member working on a musical. You’re an actor, singing yourself hoarse seven to eight times a week, dancing under hot stage lights, then going home to drink a nice glass of apple cider vinegar and soak your feet in an Epsom salt bath. You’re the stage manager, running around to make sure that everything and everyone is in order right up until the curtain rises. You’re a stage manager making last-minute costume alterations. You’re a swing going into your first rehearsal eight hours before the show. You’re a lighting/sound tech keeping track ready to fix a faulty mic or spotlight at a moment’s notice. Whatever your role, you put your heart and soul into this show.
Now imagine that you’ve found out that your show is closing and you’re out of a job via social media.
And then imagine that your millionaire boss tells you and your cast/crew members (in a letter delivered by a third party) that this show, the one you’ve worked so hard on, was nothing more than a “costly mistake.” Just to rub salt in the wound.
But hey! You don’t have to imagine it. Because that’s exactly what Andrew Lloyd Webber just did.
Cinderella, ALW’s revamped, not-like-the-other-girls-esque interpretation of the classic fairy tale ended its West End run on June…
