Brothers Size, Sized Up

I arrived at The Young Vic three minutes past 7:30, out of breath. As I approached the doors to the venue, myself and the people I was with were greeted by a terse woman, a bit harshly informing us that we were late and would have to wait a few minutes to be admitted. Two minutes later, we were scurried in and escorted to our seats, far from the stage. I took in the arena-type theater and prepared for...I didn't know what. This appears to be a recurring theme in my theatrical excursions. The show began rather dramatically with the throwing of red-colored powder as a man drew a giant white circle out of chalk and two others danced around him. Interesting...and I'm still sweating from the change from cold to warm. Once I got over a bit of a language barrier, I began to catch on to the plot. The main character, Oshoosi, is fresh out of prison and apparently still trying to get "back on his feet" (literally and metaphorically). At the beginning of the play, I found myself cringing at every vulgar term and the colloquial use of the infamous "N-word." However, 20 minutes in (or so I'm assuming as I was so enthralled time was not actively considered), the harsh language became commonplace. I'm no longer sweating and am comfortable in my bench seat. While there is much to say about the plot, the theatricality, the acting, the singing, the dancing,  etc., what stuck with me most was the atmosphere, accompanied by the reactions of the fellow theater-goers. The quiet gasps, "oohs," "ahhs," and every noise in between actually added to my experience! The final scene ended with Ogun's narration that the play had come to an end, and I was struck. Directly following however, was the abrupt exclamation of an "wow" from an audience member sitting behind me. Chills crawl across my arms and legs and I found myself devoid of all words except for an echoing "wow" myself. I'd pay that twenty pounds many times over to see Brothers Size again. My experience at the Young Vic was breath-taking.