Page the Allegorical

Stepping through the doors of the Boxmoor Playhouse, reveals nothing unusual , its surfaces only come to life when filled with the milled diversity of staff, audience and performers. Under the auspices of the Piccadilly Dance Orchestra a kind of didactic anachronism fills the room as the creamy swing of pre ww2 music sets up an alternating set of temporal dimensions, converging within and between the several chambers and stage membrane. This strange zonal flux seems through a cultural twist to ad-infinitum, allegorise through an eternal reflection of a scene in Stanely Kubrick's, 'The Shinning'. I say infinite as the allegory is in some way set up by the aforementioned set piece, but is in fact multitudinously reflected in the many anachronisms that occupy the recesses of this situation. As the band plays, the bar lies empty yet tilled by an aging man, and the hall heaves with the bated breath of 200 youthfully challenged, I can imagine the lone demented figure of Jack lurching unnoticed through the crowd, to have his misogynistic madness fuelled further by the voices of his unconscious.
This point is where the allegory comes into being and ceases to be vertical, it splays out the tendrils of sexual definition and draws on the life force of modernity encapsulated the surrounding new town conurbation. The themes that run through The Shinning; male impotence and frustration, phallic imagery, patriarchal role play, social constructs and their attendant forces of prejudice and extreme politics, become noticeably present on the surface topography; in situ and further a field. This is not to say they manifest, but more appropriately simmer under the surface. The band leader as an example seems through his desire to enact past events, to have become a neutered version of his idles, devoid of the lust and presence that encapsulates the band leader in his own decade-dence. The events written onto his surface and refracted anachronistically through the diaphragmatic augmentation, make him appear more as a situation comedy mummies boy than a figure of debauched desire.
It is possible however that this imagery has faded, its vibro strength ailing like the audience that has dredged itself into attendance , a ripple in time that has rebounded the side of the temporal lake so often it has long been superseded by the various other circular waves of the pitter patter of human endeavour. This frustrating inadequacy, this increasing instability in the sexual narrative carries on beyond the gilded royal green walls of the Play House, in the grim dull of pub brawls and the insidious violence behind domesticities closed doors.
This allegory is infinite as nothing is fixed, and time whatever is constructed of will eternally deconstruct/reconstruct what we are made of, ample ammunition against the widening yaw of authenticity.

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