But, as the old adage goes, if there's a will...there's a way.
Let's back up a bit, though. I've gotten a few questions about this Benedict Cumberbatch. For starters, who is he? At this point, most people are familiar with the 39- year- old British actor, but for those of you who need to catch up, this next section is for you. I've circled him in some of his appearances below.
Cumberbatch's meme-worthy photobomb at the Oscars.
My personal favorite role of his: Sherlock Holmes, in BBC's Sherlock.
Of course, he was also the voice of Smaug in the Hobbit movies, but he's harder to spot. Besides the fact that he is a dragon, of course.
Not to mention that he was the timeless villain Khan in the Star Trek remake.
Everybody on the same page, now? Okay. Good. Now on to the story about how all this happened. See, it all began with Kat.
Sorry to throw you under the bus, here, Kat, but my story begins with yours, and you know it.
My flatmate Kat had gone on a Monday to see if she could snag a return ticket to see Benedict Cumberbatch in Hamlet at the Barbican Theatre. Now, a return ticket is when someone buys their ticket in advance, but for some reason or another, cannot attend the show. Then, the ticket office refunds the original customer and offers to that ticket at the original price, wherever it is in the theatre, to those waiting in the return ticket cue.
Kat had arrived at the cue at 6:05 p.m. for the 7:15 show. She waited in the cue for a while until she was offered a £15 ticket to stand at the back. Because the original buyer had decided not to attend the show they had bought the ticket for (that Monday), Kat got to take their place.
Still with me? Great!
Now, Kat had made some pretty crazy posts on Facebook, in all caps, I may add, about being able to see, and meet, the glorious entity that is Benedict Cumberbatch. Excited, I waited for her to arrive back at the flat where I immediately cornered her, grilling her for all the details. I won't spoil her story for you; you can read it here, on her London blog.
Waiting until Wednesday, my friends Amy, Kalli, Shannon, and I decided to give this a shot for ourselves. As I had class until 5 p.m., the other three went ahead to the Barbican theatre so they could join the cue at 4:30.
My trip after school to join them was long, grey, and soggy. It was also the first time that I rode the tube solo. I only got lost once, but that was just as I arrived at the Barbican tube station. After consulting a map, I set myself on the correct course once more. I found the theatre (it's actually an entire performing arts center, as I found out later), and entered the cue next to my friends at 5:45. There were two people ahead of us at that point.
We waited for a while, trying to hang on to hope as each minute until the show started slipped away. I was praying feverishly, Oh God, please please please let me see Benedict Cumberbatch! I wanted this so much. And that last sentence was an understatement, by the way.
Then, Shannon was offered a ticket in the third row. For free, I may add. That opportunity just doesn't come walking up the block every day.
Kalli then accepted a £40 ticket to sit in the second circle, high in the balcony. She saw that ticket floating by, and grabbed it.
Amy and I were left in the cue. While we got first say on the next tickets to open, we had to give them up, due to expense. There were only 15 minutes to go before Hamlet started. Our hope was fading fast. Then,
BAM. A MIRACLE HAPPENED.
Another kind soul offered Amy and I a ticket for free. As a couple more expensive tickets had opened up, we struck a deal. Amy would collect the free ticket, for the third row from the stage, and would help me with the bill for the second, way more expensive ticket, for the sixth row, and buy my dinner to boot.
I was almost sobbing with joy as I hurried to buy a playbill and take a last minute bathroom stop. I was going to see Benedict Cumberbatch. I was going to see Benedict Cumberbatch!
A quick selfie after I got the "golden" ticket!
And, there, in Barbican theatre, as the show began, I saw him. Benedict FREAKING Cumberbatch, sitting peacefully on the stage, reading a book.
Now, this was no ordinary production of William Shakespeare's Hamlet. This was the story of Hamlet, as set in the 1930s. The characters wore semi-modern costumes, and carried guns. I highly enjoyed it.
Of course, Benedict Cumberbatch brought himself fully into the character of Hamlet. The Prince of Denmark, was not only a little crazy, but on the snarky side as well. For most of the first half of the show, he was dressed in a toy soldier's uniform, beating a drum, dancing on tables, and pretending to shoot imaginary enemies from a toy castle.
The other characters went through some transformations as well. Orphelia was a photographer, and after she went mad, she drug around a trunk of her photographs. Horatio was a backpacking hipster. The backdrop, set in part of the castle (the lighting and props were adjusted to show different locations of the story), also reflected not only the scene, but the state of Hamlet's mind. As his madness grew, white cracks spiderwebbed all down the walls, transforming into menacing demons as his rage grew.
And then, in the best part ever, right before intermission, the stage exploded. Every door leading onstage flew open, and with a thunderous crack, rubble flew in, shimmering and blasted everywhere, until it settled to the ground for the second act.
The production was magnificent, the cast talented, and, roused on by a speech by Cumberbatch at the curtain call, everyone donated to the migrant crisis currently affecting Europe.
Then to the stage door. To the stage door we flew! It was time to meet the man himself. Shannon and I managed to squeeze into the second row of fans behind the gate, where we could catch him to sign our playbills. We waited for what seemed like a couple thousand years in the cold, congradulating other cast members as they exited. I even got to high-five the actors who played Rosencrantz and Laertes!
A scream. He was coming our way! Shannon and I experimented with the flash on our phones while we waited for him to make his way down to us. Then, a head of dark, curly hair popped into my field of vision, I tensed, waiting. I heard his voice, a few seconds later, his face came into view.
Here he comes!
I poked my playbill out between a pair of shoulders and waited as patiently as I could. Not long after, I felt a gentle tug. I poked my head between the shoulders. Benedict Cumberbatch was signing my program! Now, he may be a celebrity and all, but my mother taught me my manners too well.
"Hey, thank you so much for signing this."
"Oh, no problem at all." Benedict Cumberbatch's voice was weary, but I think he appreciated the gratitude. As he handed my playbill back to me, I caught a quick grin on his lips, and for a split second, we locked gazes, his fair baby blues meeting my deep browns.
Benedict Cumberbatch smiled at me.
I am not kidding when I say that I did a happy dance in the streets all the way back to the Barbican tube station.
Cumberbatch doing the deed.
The next morning, was my broadcasting class' field trip to the BBC. My first three thoughs?
1. Why am I up this early?
2. I'm going to the BBC!
3. I ACTUALLY MET BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH.
I am still reeling that I got the opportunity, and so grateful for the experience. When I think about it, I still feel little happy fuzzies inside.
The signature.
