We live in neighboring buildings. Me and Emily in Paris. Well, “in London”. In Barcelona 🙂
Sounds like I’m in another dimension, doesn’t it?…
I came to see the play Barcelona, which brought… Emily in Paris to London. I mean Lily Collins.
And she’s not the only star of the play. She’s acting alongside Álvaro Morte, the sexy Spaniard many know as the Professor from Money Heist.
For both, this is their debut in London’s West End, and from what I see on social media, they’re both very excited about it.
The play is running for just a few weeks (October 21-January 11), so I hurried to grab my ticket as early as August! A good enough reason to return, for the thousandth time, to London at the end of November.
Just like last time, when I chose to see Plaza Suite with Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick (an experience I wrote about here), I started reading a bit about the play, fearing I might not understand everything they say in English. “At least I’ll know the story”, I told myself…
At midnight, an American tourist goes home with an attractive Spaniard for a carefree one-night stand. However, things take a turn as their dialogue brings unexpected emotions to the surface. I read that “Barcelona is a captivating thriller that keeps the audience in suspense – exploring the fantasy of who we pretend to be versus the truth of who we really are”. Okay… Didn’t learn much. But that intrigued me even more! And the autograph hunting was an experience in itself, one I can’t wait to tell you about!
BARCELONA THE PLAY
Don’t ask me why, but I ended up seeing the play twice, just a few days apart!
I had a ticket for a Monday evening. But four days earlier, in an attempt to stop wasting money in London’s shops, I stopped by the theater’s ticket office and asked if they had a ticket for that very evening. “Yes, we have one returned ticket, a deluxe package”, the gentleman at the counter told me.
Oh dear, do I really need deluxe?? Fine, fine, I took the ticket because, as they say, “don’t waste money on silly things, spend it on deluxe tickets for the kids” 🙂
Right after that, this board was placed in front of the theater, confirming that I had indeed bought the last available ticket.
In the evening, I arrive on time, a bit awkward with my deluxe ticket, not knowing what to do with it. I show it at the bar in the lobby, and suddenly I am handed a bottle of champagne (not just any champagne, but Moët), a program booklet, and an ice cream! All included in the price of the deluxe ticket.
Alright, I can handle the ice cream, but what on earth am I supposed to do with so much champagne?! Especially since I ended up with a glass too. (You’re allowed to take them into the theater, and you’re allowed to consume them during the show, but as I’m always fidgety, I don’t want to risk knocking over the glass or the bottle during the performance.)
So here I am, going to one of the theater’s bars and starting to sip the champagne. One sip, two, three… Wow, I can feel the bubbles dancing in my head. Then I remember I have some salted popcorn with me. I quickly take them out and start munching furiously, hoping the food would help my brain process the alcohol.
Unbelievable! For someone who can gulp down half a liter of soda in no time, this 375ml bottle of champagne seams like a barrel of alcohol! It just wouldn’t end!
I take another sip. Then I start imagining scenarios: what if, during the play, I suddenly stand up from my seat and start singing?? What if I laugh hysterically when it’s actually a sad moment??… And other dramatic scenarios that ultimately make me abandon that fancy champagne at the bar.
I enter the theater. It’s so small! And the stage is so tiny!
I’m in a theater that opened in 1892, where legendary productions with famous names have been performed.
I have a seat in row 5. The deluxe one 🙂 And on top of that, I got lucky: no one shows up for the seats in front of me!
To my right, two women. Clearly, they don’t share my champagne dilemma, as they’re happily clutching their bottles and glasses, sipping away…
There’s an eerie music playing in the theater. On the walls of the set, ghostly silhouettes of women are dancing.
I check my phone 100 times to make sure it’s turned off, that I don’t have any alarms set. This is my constant stress at every show. Especially since, in the over 60 musicals I’ve attended, I’ve never heard a single phone go off.
I like the play. I like the writing, and I like the two actors. Lily speaks so fast and with a slight lisp at times that I miss a few jokes, the ones most of the audience laughs at. The woman next to me laughs heartily. Could it be from all the champagne she drank?… When it’s time to cry (because, yes, there are moments for that too), she cries – I can hear her slurping her snot.
The play takes you suddenly through different, unexpected emotions. When I see it the second time, I already feel like an expert (in my head) because I know what’s coming… And I enjoy it even more because I understand more of it.
It’s great to see a good play multiple times. The audience is different. The first time, when the two protagonists entered the stage, the entire room broke into thunderous applause. Cheers even. The second time, no one applauded – they simply let them act out the lines.
At both performances, I had fantastic seats. Row 5 and row 3 – close enough to see the tears glistening in their eyes. And that little tic of hers, which annoyed me in Emily in Paris at first, only for me to later realize it adds a unique charm: that uneven blink with her eyes, a bit crooked, I don’t know how to describe it… And I recognized her “cat-like playfulness” from the series, along with some of her adorably desperate moments.
Some flamenco chords can be heard. Or, as she calls it in the play, flamingo 🙂
The play has more humor than I expected. A man sitting behind me laughs loudly at every funny moment, and he laughs so long that I miss the next lines – ugh. That was during the first performance when the audience as a whole seemed more enthusiastic. The second time, I think there were more foreigners in the room…
The ending (I won’t spoil it for you, in case you go see it) left the audience delighted, applauding joyfully the performance. Two rounds of bows, and that’s it – we gather our things and leave.
As everyone was leaving, a song playing in the background piqued the curiosity of many of us. Proof? Some people opened Shazam to find out what it was. No chance, though, with the background noise of a crowd leaving the theater. I had an idea: I rushed to the back of the stalls, to the sound mixer, and asked the woman there what song it was. Guess what – others followed me, curious as well. The woman kindly let us take photos of the playlist to identify the song in question.
So cool! Clearly, it stirred something in us, for so many of us to wonder what it was, after just a few dozen seconds of listening.
LILY COLLINS AUTOGRAPH. ÁLVARO MORTE AUTOGRAPH.
And so begins… the autograph telenovela. Don’t be surprised if, as you’re reading this, I’m still there, holding out my program booklet over the crowd.
Let me tell you: I looked into whether the two actors come out for autographs. They do. It’s never a sure thing, but apparently, so far, they’ve always come out. Great! I tell myself I’ll be there, program booklet in hand, on the day I go to see the play, but I also have a big advantage over the other spectators: I’m practically Lily Collins and Álvaro Morte’s neighbor. We live wall-to-wall, so to speak.
The hotel where I’m staying is right next to the theater!
So, on the first evening, coming back from the city and seeing a few people gathered behind a fence, I join them, thinking: “I’ll queue up, doesn’t matter what they’re handing out”.
Soon, the audience starts coming out, and the area fills with people eager to see the protagonists, take pictures with them, and get an autograph.
I, the “outlaw” – since this spot is meant for those who’ve just seen the play – stand there like a heron, refusing to give up the prime position I accidentally secured.
We’re split into two groups, separated by a limousine that’s probably waiting for the two stars.
Two guys acting as bodyguards give us instructions: we’ll be allowed to film or take photos, we can ask for autographs, but under no circumstances can we request selfies. Absolutely not.
“Behind the barriers!” they keep shouting, as both the theatergoers and curious passersby stop in the street, blocking traffic. They scold those who didn’t attend the play and are causing trouble. I feel a bit guilty myself, but only halfway – after all, I have a ticket for the performance in a few days. And I am their neighbor, let’s not forget 🙂
We wait… It starts to rain lightly. Umbrellas are opened, hoods are put on. We all shiver, shifting from one foot to the other.
Even the theater’s bodyguard got bored and is leaning against a wall. The driver of the car doesn’t even stick his nose out into the rain. He stays quietly at the wheel, occasionally turning off the engine.
After half an hour of waiting, Álvaro comes out. Charming, cheerful, he strikes up a conversation with everyone, especially with the Spaniards in the crowd, who feel more important because they’re ‘one of his’.
We’re not allowed to take selfies, but we all try to snap them quickly anyway…
Mine came out like a madman fleeing on horseback! Oh, and how beautifully he had looked at my camera, and how I had my hair beautifully straightened 🙂
Álvaro signs program booklets, chats a little with this one and that one, then leaves on foot, accompanied by one of the security guys. I can’t see how far he goes because I’m pressed up against the fence.
I wait… Like all the others. And I look at what on earth I managed to film:
Some passersby, who are going about their business, don’t know what to do when they reach the theater and see us all piled up together. Should they pass or not? The guys wave them through. Nothing can be blocked: neither the street nor the sidewalk. So, they pass quietly.
Some of them, though, feel like joking: they pretend to be celebrities and start performing for the crowd: “Thank you, thank you”, waving their hands royally. Or they send kisses like an idol to a fan. Or shout, amusedly, “No picture, please!” 🙂 Each according to their inspiration.
After half an hour, Lily Collins shows up. Petite, hidden under a cap and a long brown trench coat, wearing red sneakers. She first walks toward the other fence, then comes over to us. I film her, since I have nothing for her to sign…
The next day, pure luck, nothing else! In the middle of the day, when I return to the hotel to drop off some bags, I see a crowd gathered in the same spot.
I look at my watch. It’s 4:30 PM, the time when the afternoon performance ends (on Wednesdays and Saturdays, there are performances both at lunch and in the evening).
And what do you think I do? I stop, of course!
There’s no fence, no car, because the stars don’t leave the theater.
We wait for them to come out, organized in a crowd right in front of the ‘alley’ between the theater and my hotel.
Things unfold exactly as they did the previous evening: after half an hour, he comes out, heading toward my side, cheerful, communicative; after an hour, she comes out, wearing the same outfit as yesterday, and first goes to the neighboring group. Polite, cat-like. Well, so I’ve learned their schedule and their reflexes…
Thursday is, finally, my first official day as a fan, haha. It’s the day with the luxury ticket.
After the play, I go out and settle in the same spot as before. Now I have the program booklet, I can get autographs.
The same two security guards give us the same briefing, using the same jokes. Well, what else can they have in their portfolio… The same car is waiting for her, but this time, the driver has come out to joke on the sidewalk too. It seems they enjoy all of us staring at them. They’re in the spotlight!
A Spanish couple is waiting for Álvaro. But when they hear from the security guards that they aren’t allowed to take selfies, they leave.
Next to me, some people are already yawning. If it’s like the previous times, well, they’ll even have time to take a nap.
It’s exactly like before. In fact, Lily shows up after an hour and 3 minutes! They both keep their habits: he on the right, she on the left. Ok, next time I’ll switch sides, see how it is over there 🙂 And I’ll try not to stand out, so the bodyguards don’t grab me and throw me across the street.
Álvaro, just as charming and friendly, stops by each person to sign. Even though we’re all ready with markers and pens, the security guard hands him one that supposedly shows up well on the black cover.
It doesn’t show up at all. In the dark outside, I can’t even tell where he signed, I’m searching through it from cover to cover. Next time, they should let me handle the organization: I’ll bring white markers or make some “autograph-friendly” program booklets!
The girl standing shoulder to shoulder with me boldly asks him to accept a selfie, and he agrees. I try to take one quickly, but it’s still a fail!
He has no problem with our requests, but Lily does.
When asked for a selfie, she blames the security guard and refuses.
She gives autographs to those with program booklets at the fence, then the guard quickly takes her, up into the car, and off she goes.
AUTOGRAPHS. AGAIN…
Four days later, after seeing the play for the second time, I go out relaxed for autographs – the fourth time! – and go, this time, to the other side.
You’d think I’m a masochist for coming to wait for the two of them again, given that they don’t change the times they leave the theater. But I enjoy observing the crowd, hearing the comments, and seeing them again.
I hide behind a few people, afraid the bodyguards might recognize me and say, ‘We know you!’
‘Well, yes’, I’d say, ‘I’m Dana Mladin from the Stars’ School, Romania!’ 🙂 🙂 🙂
‘What did you just say?!? What school, madam? Maybe you went to the fence-jumping school, because we’ve seen you three times already!’
Today’s group is quieter. Lots of foreigners, from what I hear them talking. I also spot two Romanians, as well as two Moldovan girls. They’re all making plans on how to pose with the two of them, some filming, some taking pictures.
Álvaro comes out just like the previous days, after half an hour. Today, he seems more open to accepting selfies, which are so forbidden by the two security guards.
This time, I manage to get one too, yuhuuu!!!
Just now, when I’m neither washed nor styled, and I’ve already gained a few hundred grams! I wanted to tell him: ‘Hey, Álvaro, you should know that I’m actually a diva, I just came incognito today.’
Knowing that ‘Emily’ doesn’t appear until half an hour later, I step out of the crowd and follow Álvaro, curious to see if he’s staying nearby. He walks calmly along the sidewalk, with a young lady, probably someone from the crew. They keep walking toward Covent Garden, at a leisurely pace, among passersby who don’t bat an eye at them. I think how cool it must be to be a celebrity and still be able to stroll peacefully through a city like London, without the stress of being grabbed by fans in the street!
At some point, I leave them be, because I’m not the stalker type…
I head back to the theater, as it’s getting close to the time Lily Collins will come out. I’m already thinking I could write a PhD thesis on The Habits of Celebrities at Autograph Sessions…
Lily surprises me: she comes out 3 minutes earlier than on the other nights!
She keeps her direction, but this time I’ve switched sides, so she reaches me quickly. The bodyguard is worse today: he lets her sign a few programs for us, then quickly flutters her through the crowd and puts her in the car.
Many are upset that after all that waiting, they were left high and dry.
I’m proud of the idea to get their signatures today on a page inside the program booklet.
And that’s it.
I notice how quickly the crowd disperses. We all go our separate ways (I just take two steps to the hotel), losing ourselves in anonymity, while they hide their celebrity under a cap or behind a tinted car window. Tomorrow, they’ll be back in the spotlight, admired, adored.
I won’t be here tomorrow, I’m afraid I’d end up back at the fan fence. And I’d be writing to you, asking you to throw oranges over the fence to me in prison, because I’m sure they would’ve locked me up for harassment or something…
