Off stage: all of the actors in the audience

On the evening of Nov. 18, the Virginia Wesleyan stage was alive with thespians bringing Shakespeare’s “Much Ado about Nothing” to life. Female actresses came into the male roles professionally and executed their lines with precision.

But all the action was not on stage, and neither were all the characters.

The program looked over Brunette with Cell Phone, a supporting character.

Also overlooked was the inconsiderate Door-Slammer who decided to get up and bang the door every time they left the theater.

Also the entire Rude family, Brother, Sister, Mother and Father, who decided to depart during intermission, never to be seen again. While there was a lot of action on stage, most of it came from the audience this evening.

The first from the audience to appear was the Brunette with Cell Phone. She was constantly opening and closing her cell, causing a distracting green glow, obviously a victim of text messaging. Sure, I’m guilty. I glanced at my phone, too, but not every 30 seconds or to send a message. If it was really that important, I don’t understand why she was even there.

Here’s a tip: Save your phone battery; don’t come, and talk to these people face-to-face.

The Door-Slammer played his role perfectly. Each time the play would reach a pinnacle moment, he would exit stage right, and the door would be slammed so hearing the actors would become impossible.

Right on cue-great job.

Moving on to the four-member Rude family: seated down front, their performance was stellar, portraying the most boredom I’ve ever seen this side of a geology class.

Rude Sister was propped against her Rude Mother’s shoulder, asleep, while Rude Brother slipped and shimmied in the seat like there were fire ants eating his shorts.

Rude Father was motionless throughout the first act. Probably since he was supporting the head of Rude Mother, while she took a nap, too. During intermission, the Rude family broke out of the theater, first congregating around the exit, then breaking for the door.

I guess their house was on fire or they left a pot on the stove; it must have been important.

And half of the Extras of the audience must have had to put out a fire, too, or go to a bomb shelter or something, since most of them peaced-out during intermission.

Would you leave a basketball game if your team were losing by 10 points? Probably not. You would cheer the rest of the second half. And hope for things to improve.

From nosebleeds, four rows up, I could see it all. By the second act, the crowd was cut in half.

The left-side theater crowd was depleted dramatically. My section had lost only the Rude family. We still had Brunette with Cell Phone and Door-Slammer.

The other side was down to one row, second from the floor. All the seats were filled, with the exception of one. But only that one row! When I first arrived each row was almost completely full.

All of their grandmoms from out of town all must have flown in for an emergency cookie bake; therefore, they all needed to leave.

I was starting to feel the heat, when our side lost the Door-Slammer. Finally, half-way through the second act, with one final slam, he made his dramatic exit, never to be heard again.

The Brunette with Cell Phone hung in until the end of the two-hour production, surely listening to as much of it as i understood, which wasn’t very much.

Distracted by the audience, I caught a few major parts of the play. I even managed to jot a few notes about standout performances and characters who made the day.

But the cast of horribly rude people stood out most of all. O.K. If you’re not having the best time, you still need to devote these two hours to performers who have sacrificed time to learn lines, directions and songs, and not charge you a cent to watch.

They need your support.