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About half an hour into the performance of Stomp, a deafeningly loud, dusty, wet,
celebration of the power of vibration, my 6 year old daughter turned to me and said, "I want
to see this again." Another twenty minutes later, she said, "I am laughing so hard, I am almost crying."
In the car on the way home, it was after 11 p.m. by then, way past bedtime, she said, "I want to see Stomp again now."
Well, I answered, the performers must be exhausted by now. I'll bet they've gone home to rest for tomorrow's performance. My daughter replied, "Then I want to go back tomorrow."
I can come up with no single word to classify Stomp. We sat in the very front row and I can attest to the fact that by rhythmically banging on found objects, the cast was able to make the building and everything in it, down to the marrow of our bones, shake. And, not always with laughter, sometimes it was with the sheer volume of noise. But we did indeed laugh a lot.
We coughed some too. (By strumming on the stage with brooms and brushes, the performers succeeded in raising a good deal of dust.)
We adults were astonished at the power of any human imagination that could construct and implement this complex, rhythmic extravaganza.
Our kids just wanted to experience it again and again.
P.S. (May 1, 2002: More than one year later....) My daughter, now seven, just read this report. And she insists that I add the following:
The best part about Stomp is that they threw water on our heads during the performance.
Marines Memorial Theatre