Chatterbox

Noises Off (and out of sight)

2012-02-01T21:16:00.005Z

I bought restricted view tickets at the last minute to see Noises Off at The Old Vic, and it was certainly one of my most surreal theatre experiences. Obscured left hand of the stage meant precisely that, with the result that in the second and third acts almost all the main action happened out of our sight.

Strangely, after a while it didn't seem to matter. Each strange noise, thump, gasp, shout, burst of laughter from the audience was a new challenge, and I ended up laughing more than ever. Part radio play, part live performance, it should have been awful, but somehow I had a great time! Thing is, I daren't go back and see it properly in case it isn't as good as I imagined.

Here is one of the scenes I didn't see...

Monumental Engineering

2012-01-01T23:16:00.008Z

We took an afternoon out on the first day of 2012, and here are a couple of photos.

What I love about this is that this could be a church pretty much anywhere, but it isn't. This is the engine hall at the Kew Waterworks, now a museum, where the largest working engine of its type is still put through its paces a few times a year. What I particularly like is that it has been built with such love (my sons say 'over-engineered') with fluting on the columns and the 40 ton weight, together with bright, polished finishing which makes the steam pipes and levers look like a church organ. There might have been lots wrong with the Victorian way of doing things, but they built things beautifully.

Stardust

2011-12-29T13:14:00.022Z

As a pre-Christmas treat we went back to see the great Uncaged Monkeys team at the Hammersmith Apollo on 14th December in A Night of 200 Billion Stars. This was perfect timing, as the day before had been Cern’s moment in the limelight with their hints of the Higgs particle. I was a bit worried that there would be a bit too much repetition from the show we had seen in May, with many of the same names appearing, but this was a whole new geek-fest.

The preshow of music and powerpointy images was suitably interrupted by a computer error message, and then Robin Ince opened the show and performed his compere role beautifully.

Things got off to a good start for me with Simon Singh illustrating how the people that think there are messages encoded in the Bible have misunderstood things a bit. My favourite bit though was when he showed us his own Enigma machine in action, taking it apart to show us how it works, then putting it all back together and doing some more typing, with an explanation of how the codes work and can be broken.

Ben Goldacre had a fairly short and angry slot for this show, talking about publication bias and what he sees as a massive medical scandal. The next big highlight was Adam Rutherford’s video tribute to all of the Space Shuttle missions, played very loudly. I saw one of the shuttle launches in the late 1990s, and it brought back some of the exhilaration I felt then. Here it is – play it loud for best effect.

After the interval we had the twitter Q&A which produced this lovely image of the oldest and geekiest boyband in history

We then got on to Brian Cox who, in honour of the Cern events had ditched his planned lectures to replace them with an explanation of what the findings could mean. This he did admirably, so that at the end I understood what the Higgs particle does, and why it is important. Unfortunately, every time I moved my head from then on, bits of understanding leaked out of my ears, so I’m afraid all I can tell you now is that you need to get Brian to explain it to you, and it will make perfect sense. We also got a skype link with a couple of the scientists in the Cern canteen. Hearing the Hammersmith Apollo applauding scientists was a lovely geeky thrill.

Tim Minchin took the last slot and performed a new song Woody Allen Jesus written for the Jonathon Ross show, then produced Ed Sheeran to sing Prejudice with him

The evening ended with Brian Cox accompanying Tim Minchin to White Wine in the Sun which sent us out feeling suitably mellow. We had a lovely time and it was a joy to find so many other people finding the ideas around science inspiring.

A few days later, there was a mini twitter storm when Tim Minchin’s Woody Allen Jesus song was cut from Jonathon Ross’s Christmas show.

I don’t think that the song was offensive, although not one of his best, and if it was cut to avoid a Daily Mail storm, then ITV was truly cowardly. Coincidentally, but with perfect timing, I happened to be reading Terry Pratchett’s Small Gods over Christmas, and think that maybe he has the right attitude.

Perhaps it is time to relax a bit, so here is Tim Minchin giving a sentimental explanation of why he loves Christmas, accompanied by Prof Brian Cox. Joyful, a bit cheesy and contains no gods unless you count sex-gods.

Jumpy at the Royal Court

2011-11-27T18:24:00.010Z

I knew it was coming so there were no excuses for the fact that this was sold out completely by the time I got around to checking for tickets. The only option was the Monday ticket scrum, where a chunk of the tickets are sold for a song, or more accurately, a tenner. I sat poised at my computer at 9am, frantically clicked the links and after half a dozen failed attempts as someone else got there before me, I ended up with back row balcony tickets. I then had to wait for 20 minutes for the payment system to catch up, but I returned from my internet hunt proudly brandishing my booking reference number. The thrill of the chase without getting cold or wet.

The actual play is a romp through a female mid-life crisis, painfully funny, but with real emotional truth, played expertly by the amazing Tamsin Greig as Hilary. She seems to have funny bones, being able to naturally balance pure, laugh out loud comedy with sensitivity, so that by the end, I really cared about what happened next. Doon Mackichan's comic clowning was a triumph, although, as she showed us tiny hints of something deeper, it made me feel that I would like to see what she could do with something more serious.

Bel Powley, as the teenage daughter Tilly, had the attitude just right and some very sharp lines*, but was a bit one-dimensional, irritatingly shouty all the time. Although, for getting under the skin of what it feels like to be the parent of a bolshy teenager, that may have been the point.

As a study of middle-aged marriage, it felt spot on too, so a bit of a masterclass from April De Angelis in how to do falling-down-funny but meaningful theatre.

Tamsin Greig was undoubtedly the star of the piece, and deservedly so. A dame-in-waiting?

*'What did you wear?' ...(pause for look of dawning horror)....'You didn't wear your jeans?'

One Man, Two Guvnors

2011-09-07T15:16:00.005+01:00

Well I had a bit of a palaver getting the tickets for this, as they were officially sold out, so finding a day when I could get up at 5 to queue for day tickets was a bit tricky. The day finally arrived, I got up well before dawn, logged in to my computer whilst drinking my wake-up coffee to find that a large number of returns had been added to the website. So, if I was prepared to pay four times the day seat price I would be guaranteed a seat and a couple more hours back in bed. Obviously I paid up.

The play is about to transfer to the West End, and deservedly so. It makes full use of its Commedia dell’Arte roots, managing to give everyone a roaringly good time whilst clearly and intelligently pointing out what it is up to. At one point my face ached with laughing, not something that happens often enough at the theatre. James Corden appeared to be thoroughly enjoying himself and Oliver Chris gave him a great double act partner. All the performances were spot on, and the ad libs and improvisation were so seamlessly handled it wasn’t always clear whether they were scripted to appear off the cuff. Clever, whilst making sure no funny bone was left untickled, this was a slick and perfectly executed event from beginning to end.

I can’t leave this without mentioning the brilliant pastiche 60’s music from Grant Olding and ‘The Craze’ and the musical ‘turns’ by the cast, used to smooth each scene change. Oliver Chris’s musical number was perhaps my favourite, although Daniel Rigby’s acoustic chest beating came a very close second.

I bet this will run for years, so probably no need to hurry, but this cast is fantastic so definitely one to catch if you can.

Top Girls

2011-09-07T15:13:00.003+01:00

I didn’t have a clue what was going on in the first act of Top Girls. A Thatcherite career woman (Suranne Jones) having dinner in a swanky 80’s restaurant with a female Pope, Isabella Bird and a range of other historical characters.

Funny and moving as well as bewildering, we hear their stories and learn about their various sacrifices. So, at the first interval we spent some time trying to get to grips with things, despite the poor light and lack of reading glasses which meant I couldn’t cheat by reading the programme. I needn’t have worried as the second and third acts made things crystal clear. Classic political theatre, with the points hammered home, it was still satisfyingly thought provoking, and with great performances from the ensemble cast who each took a range of complementary roles. Written and set in the eighties, the most striking things were sadly, not how much has changed, but how little.

Not one to go for if you are planning an escapist cheery girls night out, but certainly one to make you pause and think a bit. I’d be taking a daughter if I had one, although perhaps, thinking about it, it would be more useful to take my sons.

Much Ado About Nothing

2011-08-01T07:31:00.007+01:00

With a cast like this it really shouldn’t fail, but of course you can never be sure, so I am glad to report that this was a great night out as anticipated.

Not the deepest version I have ever seen, but for laughs, one of the best. The double act of David Tennant and Catherine Tate certainly paid off, and Tennant’s undoubted comic abilities meant that he shone, and probably would have done so regardless of the golf buggy, slapstick and lacy tights. It's also good to see Catherine Tate coming into her own as an actor, and although she has a way to go before the television stereotyping is left behind, I think she has a lot of potential for more serious stuff if she wants it.

There have been a few criticisms, mostly based around the populism of this version, and particularly the verse speaking, where the laughs seem more important than the sense, but I think the purists are missing the point. As one of the original romantic comedies it seems a bit churlish to grumble about a version that focuses on the froth.

That doesn’t mean that the problematic Don John plot wasn’t dealt with head on though. By leaving us in no doubt about what Claudio has seen, the showdown in the church sat better than some other versions, although it still jars a bit. The introduction of a mother for Hero was less effective though. It didn’t really seem to make much difference to me, apart from to make the feeble interventions in the abortive wedding seem even more feeble. It also downgraded the friendship between Beatrice and Hero, which made the ‘kill Claudio’ scene even more unexpected.

But, these are tiny gripes for what was a brilliant example of how to do joyful and fun theatre. ‘Glee does Shakespeare’? Yes. But did it capture the essence of ‘Much Ado About Nothing’? Yes, it did.

Although painfully expensive at £61 per ticket, I think this was actually worth every penny, and the Lily Savage wig and inventive use of paint will keep me going for some time.

Rocket to the Moon

2011-05-30T15:53:00.008+01:00

I have a lovely 'I told you so' glow after seeing Jessica Raine delivering a storming performance as Cleo, opposite Joseph Millson in Rocket to the Moon at the Lyttelton.

Keeley Hawes was replaced by Rendah Heywood for this performance, and although she did well, I think we may have lost some of the extra frisson that the similarities in physical form and apparent fragilities between the two female leads may have brought to the piece.

Millson was totally believable as the man caught between his dreams and reality, and the other characters with their different quiet desperations were all played perfectly. Raine though, caught exactly the mixture of vulnerable but vampish girl/woman, like an early Marilyn Monroe caught between the desires of men and what she wants to become.

Loved it!

The Cherry Orchard

2011-05-30T15:29:00.006+01:00

Despite my best efforts I find it a bit difficult to find the laughs in Chekhov, but decided on the spur of the moment to give the latest version at the Olivier a try, especially as there were front row day seats available.

The production sits a bit out of its time, with telephones and electricity pylons decorating the set, and it sort of brought the play forward to a post revolutionary time, rather than the pre-revolutionary era in which it was written. It helped to create the feeling of a group of people out of synch with their times, floating through the world on a haze of orchards, borrowed money and pale linen.

The text had been brought up to date for this production, and although it occasionally jarred, it did bring the humour to the fore, and clarified the caricatures a bit. The frocks were lovely and I spent quite a few minutes admiring the cut and fabrics, particularly in the overlong scene in the gardens.

Zoe Wanamaker did strike a few classic tragic Chekhovian poses, but overall was quite restrained in the dramatics, focusing instead on the determinedly unworldly partygirl nature of Ranyevskaya. Some favourites were James Laurenson as the brother just making the best of things, and Tim McMullan as a scrounging landowner down on his luck.

Kenneth Cranham stole the show though with the excellent ending.

Uncaged Monkeys

2011-05-30T15:04:00.004+01:00

Completely sold out, even in Basingstoke, this was a bit of a triumphal tour for the forces of science and thinking things through properly. On the bill were the perpetually smiley Prof Brian Cox, Simon Singh, Ben Goldacre and Robin Ince and more. Each presented their party trick lecture, and coupled with a Q&A session, very entertaining it was too, even when Brian Cox used a projection of a Guardian poster to illustrate the miniscule-ness of science funding in the uk.

Being in a room where everyone was in favour of science was a bit like a prayer meeting for atheists and I, for one, would be happy to sign up to this particular cult.

Frankenstein

2011-05-22T13:27:00.005+01:00

I didn't get around to posting this while it was still on, but one of the highlights of my theatre year so far.

I faffed around for ages trying to decide when to go to see this, and which version of the casting to go for, so by the time I made up my mind it was sold out with overnight queues for day tickets.

So, I duly set my alarm and arrived to join the back of the early morning queue, ending up with a standing ticket.

I think I got a good deal though, as from the back you get a full view of the fantastic lighting effects which rippled above the stage, almost like an additional member of the cast. I saw the casting with Jonny Lee Miller as the creature, and Benedict Cumberbatch as Frankenstein. Miller played the role as though electrified and with a real humanity and warmth, struggling to deal with his beastly exterior, whilst Cumberbatch was all cold science. I really wanted to see the opposite casting, to see what each would do with the same role, but sadly it wasn't to be. I hear rumours of a DVD release though, so fingers crossed.

Cause Célèbre

2011-05-22T13:01:00.005+01:00

A slightly odd play, although with excellent staging, Ann-Marie Duff was a mix of fragility and passionate hedonism, playing the woman trapped in a moral quagmire. Full of polar opposites and double standards, it felt like we would be served up a black and white ending, but it all turned out in shades of grey. Based on real events in 1935, the play was first produced in 1977, and at first looks like a period piece, but the moralistic snap judgements by people who know little of the facts seems particularly relevant when we are surrounded by super-injunctions and twitter gossip. So, it made me think and wonder.

Propeller: Richard III

2011-05-22T12:45:00.003+01:00

I just love Propeller. Funny, irreverent, but always on the button, this was a fast and fantastic production in the tiny theatre at The Watermill in Newbury. Packed with ever more dastardly methods of murder, and with a charmingly vicious lead in the form of Richard Clothier as mad, bad Richard III, this was the most entertaining death packed theatre trip I have had in ages. Still on tour, see it if you can..

Completing the set

2011-02-13T16:58:00.010Z

A domestic equivalent of a perfect storm hit my already sporadic blogging and theatre-going last year. Kids' A levels, University applications and departures, followed swiftly by a change of job meant that not only did I not go to the theatre as much, but I wasn’t able to form even semi-coherent thoughts about it.

But I’m back now, and to assuage my completist tendencies I will start with a twitteresque run through of my favourite events of the last 10 months or so

Danton’s Death

Entertaining run through the French Revolution, although Toby Stephens was a bit too ‘Flashheart’ for my liking. Stonking guillotine ending.

La Bete

Mark Rylance appropriately and outrageously stole the show, while David Hyde Pierce balanced him out brilliantly. Great acting which outshone the play.

Tim Minchin and Orchestra at the O2

Fantastic playing with rockstar clichés and some brilliant new songs. I wanted more of the rude and rackety older stuff though.

Hamlet

Rory Kinnear as a very believable, studenty prince with excellent verse speaking. This remains my favourite play *ever*. Ophelia is still a rubbish part though.

Death Trap

A New Years eve treat with Simon Russell Beale. We jumped in all the right places, and laughed throughout. Loved it!

Seasons Greetings

Catherine Tate suitably luscious, making the most of the Abigail’s party overtones, while Mark Gatiss was all witty pathos. And what a treat to find Oli Chris as the male totty!

Treats I am already looking forward to during 2011 are Tennant and Tate in Much Ado , the dream team of Ben Goldacre, Robin Ince, Prof Brian Cox and friends being grumpy about irrationality and excited about science, hopefully followed by some more visits to The Globe, sadly neglected last year.

Up the Students

2010-12-08T18:45:00.003Z

I was on the train on the day of the first student protests, sitting next to two police officers discussing the embarrassment of being outclassed by a bunch of kids, and I think we all saw how they managed to get their own back over the last few weeks.

My kids are now at university studying hard sciences, having been supported through their A levels by EMA, and in earlier years by Tax Credits that meant that I, as a single mum, was able to work a bit less and be able to be there for them when they needed moral and practical support.

The appalling undercutting of all of this good work in the deficit panic is making me very angry. Not just because of the gob-smackingly large sums that students will owe, but mainly because of the attitude that it is only the individual students that benefit from further and higher education so making them pay for it all out of their own pockets. Can it be right that the state withdraws completely from supporting a whole tranche of education? It certainly seems shameful to me.

This has already happened to adult education, which has now become a mainly middle class hobby apart from in some cushioned islands (usually funded by charities or far thinking local authorities - and therefore likely to sink in the current wave of cuts). Our society is richer culturally as well as economically by having people study English literature and history and other ‘soft’ subjects and the attitude that somehow these are second class topics I think diminishes us all. I can predict the Daily Mail outrage in a few years time when history is no longer being taught in schools as there aren't any history graduates.

Yes, there is plenty of scope for restructuring higher education, especially the occupationally relevant topics, but this is just madness.

Of course, there are even worse things going on, not least the demonization of benefit claimants, but somehow this for me just highlights how nasty and narrow things are going to get.

Rant off.

The Power of Yes

2010-04-18T14:24:00.003+01:00

Well I had already seen and enjoyed Enron, so I thought I would balance things up and do a bit of pre-election revision by heading off to see David Hare's take on the financial crisis.

Not really a play, this was more of an illustrated lecture, and some of the people who had clearly paid the full £44 for their seats at a new David Hare play, were understandably a bit miffed! I did wonder if that was why there was no interval - so that they could be sure to have a full house until the end. Leaving that aside, this was a clear explanation of how it came to be that banks got away with such audacious risk taking with our money. It was well done enough that it made me angry in a way that Enron didn't, particularly through highlighting how little has changed.

I thought this was a worthwhile couple of hours. At least it means that my shouting at the telly during the pre-election period is a little more articulate and well informed than usual.

The White Guard

2010-04-18T13:47:00.005+01:00

This was recommended to me on the basis that although it is Russian, is isn't Chekov.

Based on the play by Mikhail Bulgakov, this was a fast moving look at the Russian Revolution played as farce from the perpective of a bourgeois family living in Ukraine. Brilliant set and great ensemble performances, it was much more My Familythan Dr Zhivago, with some nicely paced set pieces. My favourites were the farcical turning points as the characters wave their guns at each other in succession, like something out of Dad's Army as everyone changes sides again and again. Chronicling the shifts of loyalties as various factions take charge then run away in the confusion, it brought to vivid life how difficult it must be to get on with 'normality' in such times, when a failure to pay attention for one moment may lead to being on the wrong side of a gun barrel.

It also had some brilliant explosions - the National Theatre with its permanent armourer has the best explosions in the theatre anyway, but these were good enough to make the whole audience leap in unison and then giggle at themselves. I love it when that happens.

The Little Dog Laughed

2010-04-11T18:34:00.006+01:00

The play is a revival of a Broadway production, with pretty impressive (to me at least) American accents used throughout by the all English cast. This is the story of a gay actor being persuaded that to secure his dream role in a Hollywood movie, the closet of a fake fairytale marriage is a better career choice than a loving gay relationship.

Rupert Friend and Harry Lloyd play the star crossed lovers, Gemma Atherton has the fairly thankless role of the token girlfriend, but all were acted off the stage by Tamsin Greig who appeared to be an unstoppable but persuasive force of nature in the role of devious agent Diane. Like an Iago drawing us into her schemes, she managed to make us admire her daring and manipulations and love her style, even as she ripped the lives of the other characters to shreds to suit the movie industry ideal.

I saw the play in the week that Colin Firth won an Oscar for playing a gay man, but with little sign of a gay man winning an prize for playing a straight leading role, this raises the nasty question of whether Hollywood really does behave like this. Unbelievable, but also scarily believable. I suppose we won't know how accurate this is, unless and until we get a big star brave enough to step up and out.

Vicious, caustic and cynical in the best way, but very, very funny, this was a surprise hit for me. My lasting feeling, apart from a renewed crush on Tamsin Greig and aching ribs from the laughing, was sadness. So, a good job well done I think.

Enron

2010-04-11T18:15:00.004+01:00

It was a bit of a struggle to get discount tickets at the Noel Coward Theatre, so I finally ended up with side balcony tickets for me and the kids. Great view as long as you didn't mind leaning forward to see anything!

The play was a witty dash through the events that led to the Enron collapse, and showing how the seeds of the later global crash were set. With music, dancing and dinosaurs to help us through the story, it certainly kept us paying attention, and it was the clearest explanation I have yet seen on how we got into our current financial mess.

The whole cast was excellent, with Sam West and Tim Piggot-Smith playing the architects of the disaster but with Tom Goodman-Hill stealing the show with his portrayal of Andy Fastow, complete with his barely controlled 'Raptors'.

I had an American sitting next to me and it was interesting to hear his take on the show, as well as his explanations of where all the characters were now. Although overall, I would have preferred him to limit his comments to the interval rather than whispering to me throughout the second half......

A New Jerusalem containing Welshmen, Pacific Islanders and National Treasures

2010-02-11T11:26:00.009Z

A bit of a gap since my last post, and I seem to be missing it much more than I thought I would. Self indulgent rambling seems to be quite addictive – who knew?

So, I have decided to pull up my socks, gird my loins, get into gear, pull myself together and get a grip, along with any other metaphorical whip cracking I can think of. More suggestions for clichéd motivational phrases very welcome.

Theatre trips over the last month or so have been a bit sparse, but with some brilliant moments so I thought I would use this post to bring us all up to speed.

Nation
This National Theatre production, adapted from the Terry Pratchett novel, was quite light, and a bit clichéd, but very enjoyable as a holiday treat. We had arranged an informal tour of the theatres beforehand, an experience which was strangely disorientating, although we absolutely loved standing on the middle of the stage and working out where we were sitting that night. Eating in the staff restaurant was also a bit weird – I’m not sure I can cope with my disbelief being suspended so far as to see the ‘islanders’ knocking back a burger and chips with double tomato sauce beforehand. It was also a bit strange seeing bits of the set, props and costumes being repaired before going on to stage later that evening, but I was both amazed and impressed to see the work that goes on behind the scenes to keep the magic in place at the front of the stage.

The Habit of Art
This latest Alan Bennett play, also at the National, was multi-layered, and excellent in all respects. Frances De La Tour was just perfect, as were Richard Griffith and the rest of the cast, teetering confidently on the edge between comedy and the bleak tragedy underneath. Although I didn’t fall in love with it as I did with The History Boys, I have found it lingering, in that I keep going back over bits of it, seeing it from new angles. It seemed to be an underlining of past work as far as Bennett is concerned, and suggests that perhaps he might be a bit tired of his previous incarnations. The references to The Tempest and Death in Venice certainly make me feel that he is consciously in ‘late works’ mode, and as a result (and perhaps a bit paradoxically) it has made me really interested to see what comes next for our slightly unwilling ‘national treasure’.

Rhod Gilbert and the cat that looked like Nicholas Lyndhurst
This has been touring since Edinburgh last year, so I am a bit late to the party on this one, but the new face of Wales finally arrived at The Anvil in Basingstoke last week. Rhod Gilbert is a master in apparently incoherent rage and this was the best comedy I have seen for some time. Seemingly unstructured angry ramblings, interspersed with confessional discussions with the audience, leading to a masterful dénouement which linked everything together so beautifully I laughed for joy at the neatness of it all.

Jerusalem

Saving the best to last, I finally caught Jez Butterworth’s much praised play this week. With Mark Rylance in the lead role, I was upset to have missed it at the Royal Court last summer, so this West End transfer felt long overdue. This was all I could have wished for. A clever and angry but stormingly funny play, which puts all sorts of Englishness together in a jar, gives them all a good shake and then pulls them all out for minute inspection. We saw bits of Shakespeare and Shakespearian characters, green men and giants, morris dancing, unruly youths, colonels, publicans, prejudice, small mindedness, violence, heroism and bolshy bloodymindedness, all brought together to show the English ambivalence to their own history and sense of national identity.

The play is focused on Johnny ‘Rooster’ Byron, a charismatic, self-mythologising, drug dealing outsider, living in a scruffy caravan in countryside beside a new estate in a Wiltshire village. I wonder how much Jez Butterworth had this particular actor in mind when writing this play though, and whether it will survive new leading men.

Regular readers will probably already know how much I adore Mark Rylance, and this is perhaps his best performance ever, in a role which allowed him to bring aspects of his own back catalogue to add further depth to the character which toys with a range of stories about Englishness. Mark Rylance is regularly referred to as our greatest living theatrical actor and, although that is a huge claim, on this performance I think it is well deserved. Wonderful, wonderful stuff.

Bye to the Tennanth Doctor

2010-01-03T23:36:00.007Z

Well, rather than continuing to ramble on other people's blogs I thought I may as well add my thoughts here about The End of T(ennant)ime Pts 1 and 2. Alongside Hamlet and Outnumbered, it was one of the big events over the holiday that we all sat down as a family to watch.

Although this probably won’t be the top of many favourite episode charts, there were some great moments, enough for me to feel pretty satisfied overall. The best bit was the undercutting of the big build-up to the ‘He Will Knock Four Times’ scary prophesy. Well, he did knock four times, and it was BRILLIANT, taking it all back down to a human scale again.

Overall, there were huge plot holes, completely un-patched and leaking irritating questions all over the place, and the long goodbyes were indeed indulgent, but I didn’t care one tiny bit. This was a big fat sentimental goodbye to this Doctor, his companions and also to Russell T Davies’ version of Who, and it was exemplary in giving us all that was brilliant as well as a bit flaky and irritating about this incarnation.

Finally, I loved the fact that the Ood seemed to be referencing Hamlet, offering to sing him to his sleep (ok, they may not be flights of angels, but it worked for me!).

I will certainly miss David Tennant as the Doctor, and hope he hurries to find something that will keep him popping up on our tv screens, or, even better, gets himself to a theatre near me very quickly.

As for the next Doctor, time will tell whether Matt Smith is a Tom or a Colin Baker, but I’m optimistic….

Darker Shores

2010-01-01T11:49:00.006Z

Watching the first preview night of Darker Shores at Hampstead Theatre was a slightly nail-biting experience. The first night had been delayed as Tom Goodman-Hill had taken over his role from Mark Gatiss just a couple of days earlier, and I was beginning to wonder if all my visits to this theatre were going to be jinxed.

Despite this, all appeared word perfect and, if the pace slipped on occasions and some scenes meandered about a bit, overall this was a very creditable performance. Tom Goodman-Hill did an excellent job playing Professor Gabriel Stokes, a Victorian widower consulting an American spiritualist/potential huckster after a supernatural experience and recruiting him to investigate further in the best tradition of ghost stories. Julian Rhind-Tutt played Tom Beauregard, the American ex-civil war soldier turned ghost-finder, battling his own demons in a performance nicely balanced between bravura showman and troubled war veteran and throwing in a few magic tricks for good measure! The rest of the cast did a brilliant, understated job in holding the whole thing together, leaving the men to get on with the melodrama.

On second viewing, I had a much better seat and the pace had picked up considerably so that the plot whipped along quite nicely. There are fantastic special effects throughout, best appreciated from the stalls, and the final reveal, when we find out what all this is about, was a real treat, particularly as I hadn’t seen it very clearly on the first visit. Despite following the tradition of plays like Women in Black, there is a secular sensibility underwriting it all, giving Gabriel Stokes in particular some great (and funny) lines which mean that for most of the play I was never quite clear whether we are supposed to take it all seriously or not. The slightly uncertain chuckles from the audience seemed to suggest to me that they felt the same way!

The one thing that was missing was the final chiller moment – I think it is there in embryo, but it seemed to get lost in the final scene on both occasions I saw this, and I would love to see it built up a bit more. I’m going again in January, so I’ve got my fingers crossed.

Saying it again

2009-12-04T12:59:00.005Z

As promised, I did manage to get back to see Speaking in Tongues again... twice as it happens. I won some tickets, so took my sons, then went again with a friend.

Seeing plays more than once is always fascinating, watching the performances grow and develop, and how a different audience can change the whole evening. Then, of course, there is my own changing responses, finding that some things still work for me, whilst others lose their shine.

On the second viewing, the co-ordination of the actors had certainly developed much more, and the flow of the speech had reached that comfortable, lyrical stage so I had a great night again.

On the third night though, it was as if they had all gone off the boil a bit. John Simm had altered his playing of the role, as if he was putting less of himself into it, particularly in the second half... and I really missed the notebook that he battled to get out of his pocket on both previous occasions - this time he simply didn't bother. I have read since about Ian Hart's little grumbles about audiences and apparent temper tantrum and I wonder if some of that was contributing to the strange atmosphere?

The audience seemed to still be having a good time though, so maybe it was just me, and three viewings is one too many.

I bet they still haven't found what they're looking for

2009-11-02T20:08:00.008Z

After a little trip to my Blogger account to see if my visitor count has reached double figures, I've spent some time speculating on what exactly would lead you to type the words 'Stalin dancing' into a search engine. And then just what that visitor would feel when they ended up here.

Sorry anyway, whoever you are.

Update: Just done the sensible thing and googled it for myself and found this and this

I love the internet.

Endgame

2009-11-01T17:50:00.007Z

I’ve always put off going to see Endgame on the basis that, as with the heavy end of literature or swimming the channel, you need to work up to it, and I’ve never really felt that I am out of the shallow end of my theatre going. But when I found out that Mark Rylance was appearing as Hamm in the Complicite production at the Duchess Theatre I decided it was worth getting rid of my armbands and going for it.

Actually, I don’t know what I was worried about really. I’m not saying I understood it all, but it appears to me that was part of the point. The cast seemed to me to bring this very stagey piece to life very well, so that, although I was often mystified, it somehow seemed as if we were all in together. I loved the tenderness between Miriam Margolyes and Tom Hickey as Nell and Nagg, and once I had got past Simon McBurney’s clowning (is it supposed to be that cheesy?) I thought he managed the role of Clov very well, trapped in his relationship with Hamm, partly by being the only character with the power of movement.

Mark Rylance was, of course, as absorbing to watch as always, and the absolute centre of the play in all senses. An exceptionally physical actor anyway, it was intriguing how he managed to convey a kind of balletic quality to every movement he made, regardless of the fact that he remained fixed to his wheelchair throughout. He coaxed the humour and pathos out of every possible line and, despite the theatricality of the whole play, managed to avoid it ever feeling forced.

Hamm asks ‘We're not beginning to ... ... mean something?’ Well yes, I think they did, even if only when seen out of the corner of my eye.

Speaking my Language

2009-10-01T14:21:00.005+01:00

All I knew about Speaking in Tongues when I booked our seats was that it had the amazing John Simm to complete a classy cast of Kerry Fox, Ian Hart and Lucy Cohu playing all nine characters.

A fascinating bit of writing, the play circles around the characters and events, playing with language and scenes and using simultaneous and overlapping speech to highlight links and gaps between people. It especially uses rhythm, with pauses and accents to an extent that this could almost have been performance poetry. Reviewers and the programme notes highlight the themes of trust and betrayal, but the main thing that struck me was the swirling circular nature of that rhythm, bringing us back round to the same scenes and words from a slightly different perspective.

The first half looks at two couples teetering on the edge of adultery, and then in the second half focuses on the events seen and mentioned earlier from the viewpoint of the other characters involved, resulting in a sort of complicated six degrees of separation thing, with the only repeated character being John Simm’s Leon. The plotting is so complex I was still sorting it out in my head on the way home, but despite that, there is no neat conclusion, which left a strangely unsettled feeling – something I love! Much better than an ending neatly tied up in a bow.

All of the actors managed their multiple roles very nicely. I saw Ian Hart just a few weeks ago in Three More Sleepless Nights at the Lyttleton; he was excellent in that as well, and this felt like a natural progression. Of course, John Simm is a huge draw and deservedly so. He had the two most diverse characters, and was just as mesmerising but different in both. Despite spending most of his career on screen, his stage energy is just amazing, doing that clever actorly thing of seeming to become the character, rather than ‘acting’.

Despite being a polished and gripping production and one of the most interesting plays I have seen this year, I think it still has scope for more, and I am keen to come back at the end to see how it has developed. I’ve already mentioned the importance of the rhythm and because of that, any tiny false steps and missed or delayed cues are glaringly obvious. I have a feeling that at the end of the run, the actors might have internalised the lines as if they are lyrics, so that they could speak along with it whilst cooking the tea and feeding the cat without missing a beat. If that happens, this will move up into another realm. And I really wouldn’t want to miss that.

A Painful Pleasure

2009-09-27T17:14:00.002+01:00

I wasn’t sure I would enjoy A New World at the Globe, as it sounded a bit worthy, and I was a bit tempted to spend my afternoon browsing around the Thames Festival and overpriced craft stalls, rather than watch a history play over three hours long.

But, I was glad I did keep the appointment, and not just for the sake of my bank balance. Using Benjamin Franklin as a narrator who doesn’t let the little matter of his death stop him talking, the play takes us through Thomas Paine’s involvement in the American War of Independence in the first half, then the French Revolution in the second. The play and performances had a lovely light touch and every time there was any danger of being sunk by words, a suitable song or bit of diversion was thrown in to keep things moving along very nicely. There were a few grumblings in the interval about some merging of characters and events, which passed over my head completely I’m afraid, so I can’t tell you what was missing, but as the programme notes point out that the play was cut down from an original mini-series size, I expect the grumblers were right.

For a matinee, it was a pretty full house and, somehow, a real warmth was generated by the end in that mysterious chemical reaction that sometimes happens at the Globe. As a result, the cast were taken aback by a well deserved third ovation, and reappeared looking slightly dishevelled but chuffed.

The Pitmen Painters

2009-09-13T15:16:00.008+01:00

I finally got to see this last week with my sons.

The first half is a brilliant explanation of what art is about, and could have saved me about a term of lectures on my degree course. I loved the linking of the action to the paintings being projected on the screen. We gulped down our ice-creams in the interval, eager to get back to the second half, where we found our optimism being gently, but carefully and thoroughly, deflated.

The second half is really the history of the gradual decline in impetus of the group, and the failure to move into the mainstream, using the Ashington group and their adventures as metaphors for socialism and class division. Choosing to end the play at the nationalisation of the coal mines made a double underscoring of the point, which was probably unnecessary, but allowed them to end on a stirring song.

On the way out I overheard someone grumbling that the play lost its way in the second half. On the contrary, I think the pitmen painters might have lost their way, but the play didn't.

Troilus and Cressida

2009-09-13T14:44:00.005+01:00

I've had a bit of a run of plays with a Greek theme lately. I don't know whether there are more about at the moment, or whether I have been subconsciously following a theme.

The Globe production was fine with some brilliant moments, but somehow it didn't really coalesce into anything much overall, leaving me with just a pile of unconnected thoughts including:

Trystan Gravelle reminded me of David Essex in Stardust. This is a good thing, as he was playing Achilles as a kind of jaded rock star which worked brilliantly

Troilus (Paul Stocker) looked like a lad I knew at school who was well known for being an irritating berk. I wonder if that's why I didn't like him?

Yay, Patroclus is in this (ok, ok, this was the namesake, rather than the blogging heroine).

Brilliant drumming from the whole company at the end - it made a change from the usual jig

As you can probably tell, I found my mind wandering a bit, not a good sign, although I don't know whether the fault was with the production or me. I actually found myself more interested in the luvvie behind me, trying to talk up his friendship with Matthew Kelly (Pandarus) and then having to hurriedly backtrack when someone asked to be introduced to him.

Phèdre

2009-08-28T19:07:00.010+01:00

A gorgeous set is the first thing that struck me when the curtain rose on Phèdre at the Lyttelton. All golds and blues, I so wanted to step onto the cold stone, find my way to the sandy beach and dabble my toes in the sea that appeared to be just out of view.

Describing the plot in work the next day as a lustful queen attempting to seduce an unwilling stepson, a colleague commented ‘Ah, posh Eastenders then’. And yes, that was exactly what it was.

In places things got slightly over-wrought and a touch overburdened by a couple of long, declamatory speeches. I get a bit impatient with those ‘messenger’ type speeches where all the excitement happens just offstage, and rather than just tell us, the messenger has to act it all out, usually rather badly. This was no exception.

Helen Mirren and Dominic Cooper stood out though in giving performances which, if not exactly naturalistic, worked well within the confines of the play. Helen Mirren’s desperate lust reminded me of so many middle aged women, and Dominic Cooper’s gorgeous disdainfulness was Darcy-like in its straight-backed aloofness. Colin Firth’s Darcy did come to mind on a few occasions as Cooper made use of the tap at the side of the stage. At some points I wondered whether there was a wet t-shirt competition being held just out of sight around the corner on the beach. As a device for reminding us of the character’s need to a) wash himself clean, b) cool himself down, it was very effective. Of course, each time he doused himself there was a palpable rise in female temperature in the room, giving us a little taste of Phèdre's feelings, so maybe that was the real point.

Certainly, the play overall was a feast for the eyes and an intense, if slightly overheated, and just a teensy bit sudsy, enjoyable night out.

Dr Who and his Mum

2009-08-27T13:04:00.003+01:00

I decided it was a sign of my triviality that my thoughts on the casting of Helen at the Globe kept heading back to Dr Who with Paul McGann (the eighth Doctor)as Menelaus and Penny Downie as Helen (last seen by me as Gertrude to David Tennant’s Hamlet). Penny Downie owned the stage from the moment she dashed in, and if there was a lot of unnecessary rushing from one side of the stage to the other, a sign I always think that the director doesn’t have faith in his actors ability to hold the attention of the audience, it didn’t matter because clearly Downie and McGann knew exactly what they were about, and I think I would have been as impressed if they had been rooted to a single spot throughout.

Unlike Alls Well that Ends Well, this really was a fairytale, with a reimagining of the story of Helen of Troy, on the basis that the Helen that ended up in Troy was just a trick of the gods, and that the real Helen instead spent the Trojan Wars in Egypt pining for her husband, making the Trojan Wars a complete waste of time. I particularly liked the way that although the parallel with recent British military adventures was hanging in the air, they left it there, for the audience to take or leave as they chose.

Penny Downie was light, passionate and her Helen felt real, as did McGann's Menelaus. It was a shame that the baddie was straight out of panto, but suprisingly it didn't make that much difference overall. This was a joyous riot, a real treat with a lovely fairytale ending that I was glad to suspend my disbelief for.

The joys of leaping out of your skin

2009-08-27T12:58:00.001+01:00

I went to see Woman in Black as a little midsummer family get-together. I know the story pretty well, as does anyone who has been exposed to the GCSE English syllabus over the last few years, and so I thought I would find the play itself quite dull. In fact, I had an absolute blast with this, finding that familiarity didn’t stop me jumping out of my skin at the appropriate moments, regardless of my clever-clever disdain for the pretty basic plot. It was good to be reminded that good old-fashioned spooky stories are still effective, and I laughed so much my face ached.

A Grimm Fairytale

2009-08-18T13:53:00.004+01:00

All’s Well That Ends Well could sum up the whole day really. We had intended a sunny picnic on the green by the London Eye, but ended up sheltering from torrential rain in the National Theatre café and Pizza Express before heading back to the Olivier for Marianne Elliott’s latest take on Shakespeare.

Fairytale is the big theme and tag line for this production and, although not subtle, the references are clever and well placed, from the heavy red cloak that our heroine puts on when she goes out into the big bad world to the silhouetted fairytale tableaux that introduced the scenes, which reminded me for some reason of French storybooks. The first problem with this play is that the first half is all scene setting, and I did get a bit fed up waiting for the main event, however beautifully the set-up was done. The second half was packed with incident though, all well acted and cleverly staged with not a dull moment. Brilliant stuff. But then came the ending. Of course we did get the fairytale, in that the hard to capture prince was finally captured. The trouble was that by the end of the story marrying off this clever and resourceful woman to such a twit who had failed to recognise her merits seemed more like a tragedy. Suddenly the title felt less like a statement and more like a question. So my applause was for the beautifully spun fairytale with a perfect happy ending, but also for the way in which the nasty realities of life were all so subtly exposed and the fantasy bubble was pricked.

Friends like these

2009-05-29T17:31:00.008+01:00

From the advertising blurb it sounded very God of Carnage – y, so I was keen to take a look, but our visit to Amongst Friends at the Hampstead Theatre was a bit doomed from the start. Firstly the Jubilee line was closed so we had to take a circuitous tube journey, wading through a tide of homeward bound football fans. Then, when we arrived at our seats we found a trio of pensioners complete with walking sticks and hearing aids already installed. Upon investigation, yes, Hampstead Theatre had managed to sell the seats first to me, then again to the interlopers. As they had possession, there were only two seats remaining in the whole theatre, and to wrestle them out of the place altogether would be a bit undignified, we decided to accept the compensatory half time G&Ts and back row of the stalls as a bit of a result overall.. Until the play started that is, when it became apparent that the main theme here was going to be good actors brought to their knees by a dodgy script. We silently willed them to make the best of it, but by the second half it was clear there was nothing that could be done.

So, what was the problem? Well, the biggest issue was the script stuffed with every storyline that could be squeezed in. There was an interesting basic plot of two marriages under strain, and added to this were affairs, death of a (possibly fictional) child, an MP and Iraq scandal, hastily added lines about expenses, violence and crime, nervous breakdowns, drug addiction, blackmail, the angst of the real-wood-flooring classes, the scariness and pathos of the lower classes, ethics of publicity and privacy, agoraphobia, grief, suicide. The really sad thing is that there was an interesting play struggling to get out, but dying for lack of a good editor.

The actors all did a fair job actually… Helen Baxendale was wearing her brittle persona, which was fine for her character, and James Dreyfuss was impressive, with a real stage presence. Vicki Pepperdine did her best but her character was just not believable, irritating rather than catalytic, simplistic and just patronising.

My main feeling at the end was that this was a waste of a great cast, theatre and set. But overall, not a waste of our time, as our fantasy redrafting and editing kept us occupied all the way home.

The Frontline

2009-05-23T14:45:00.005+01:00

The Frontline at the Globe is sold as an edgy piece of theatre, suitable for the young, hip and happening*.

The Globe wasn’t full when I visited, and that always affects the dynamics in this theatre, making it harder to get everyone warmed up . The play is set outside a tube station, and we quickly meet some regular characters, including a hot dog salesman who performs the function of narrator and interpreter at key points. The ‘turn off your phones’ message is delivered as a rap, and the opening scene includes a happy clappy gospel number which, combined with the leaflets being handed out to the groundlings, makes the exhortation to come and be ‘saved’ feel suitably appealing and uncomfortable at the same time. There are some pretty stock characters, the tart with a heart, the young wild lad heading for trouble (actually there are a few of them!) and an aspiring actor using a phone box to make increasingly desperate attempts to get someone to attend his performances. The simultaneous storylines and overlapping speech do a good job of simulating the experience of standing in a busy street corner, catching odd sentences as they come into earshot. This certainly means you have to concentrate but made it more interesting and rewarding when you did actually catch what was being said on the other side of the stage. It reminded me a bit of Market Boy at the National theatre, but the use of the Globe performance space did take things to a new level. This is definitely a play that would be killed dead by a proscenium arch.

The programme includes a mini introduction about British imperialism and it tried hard to discuss the plight of people pitched up in the middle of London as flotsam and jetsom far from families and familiar cultures. Despite the obviousness of the some of the agenda, overall it worked, and the effect was to get me interested and involved so that I did care about the characters and what happened to them.

So, an enjoyable and interesting night out. What also struck me though is that although this play was discussing many themes similar to England People Very Nice, it largely reinforced my own views. This made it quite comfortable and reassuring, and much as that is very nice, it didn’t really challenge me in the same way. Overall, I think that is a bit of a shame.

Another thing that made me really sad was that when about half a dozen young black lads in hoodies wandered in to join the groundlings I immediately thought that they must be part of the cast. Even worse, I was right. Wouldn’t it have been great if I was wrong, and all I had to confront was my own assumptions?

*these choices of phrase may highlight how near (or possibly how far) my own finger is from the pulse of contemporary culture.

Don't know if I would like it if real life was really like this but....

2009-05-08T13:00:00.003+01:00

....I like this anyway.

Thanks to Plattitude

England Person Still Bemused

2009-05-04T09:06:00.007+01:00

Well, I've been mulling it over for a few weeks now, and I'm still no closer to a conclusion on England People Very Nice. So, I've decided just to put my thoughts down anyway.

The play we see is ostensibly written and acted by some immigration detainees awaiting letters to tell them whether they can stay in Britain, and this device is given a little shake every now and then to remind us that this is just a play and an interpretation of events.

The first half consists of a series of short episodes showing waves of immigrants to Bethnal Green being persecuted, falling in love and integrating, with the same actors playing similar characters in each scenario. Racist language and viewpoints are given plenty of airing, as are pretty much any racial or cultural stereotyping you can think of, and this is both unsettling and very funny.

The second half settles down to tell the story of immigration during and after the second world war, using similar devices as during the first half, with another series of cross cultural romances. However, this time the integration is portrayed as stuttering along, and I didn't quite know what to make of that.

Another thing I couldn't quite decide about was the drama workshop feel about some of the scenes, as if the characters and situations had been given to a group of 6th formers in Surrey to see what they could make of it. As the play is ostensibly workshopped by the immigration centre detainees, at one level this could be quite clever. That didn't stop it feeling a bit clunky though.

Does the play use unacceptable stereotypes? Yes. Does it intend to be racist? No. Is it unintentionally racist? I still don't know.

The intention seems to be to show the wider sweep of immigration and how the same pattern of the shock of the new, followed by intermingling, followed by integration and new waves heading out to Redbridge and the suburbs is followed by each succeeding group. I can see that we were supposed to put the various stereotypes in context, and the fact that this often felt very uncomfortable is probably quite important. It felt uncomfortable because many of these stereotypes are still live, but at another level it could equally be misinterpreted as revealing some kind of (quite banal) truth. And therein lies my difficulty. I can quite see how this could be taken as an attack on immigration or on various cultures.

On balance though, although (or perhaps because) the play has plenty of flaws, this was something well worth seeing. It has made me think through my cosy lefty views, and although I have ended up where I started, I have been on an interesting journey.

Three Days of Rain

2009-04-16T12:24:00.004+01:00

I actually went to see England People Very Nice last night, but I'm still digesting it, so in the meantime I thought I'd tell you about Three Days of Rain instead.

This was another play seen on a bit of a whim, and another result for bargain theatre-going, with a balcony ticket bought a day earlier, converted into a circle ticket on the night.

The play is sold as jigsaw puzzle theatre, the audience being required to provide the thought (and presumably the nice padded tray) to put the pieces together. The question then becomes whether this is going to be an impossible 5,000 piecer or one designed for toddlers and clumsy fingers. Actually, although it wasn't anywhere near as tricksy as it thought it was, it was just about complicated enough to feel a mild sense of achievement at working it out.

The play starts with James McAvoy's first character addressing the audience directly in a broad american accent that threw me a bit at the start, but was soon assimilated into everything else going on. The basic structure is that the first half shows three people dealing with the aftermath of their parents' lives, and their attempts to interpret them, whilst the second half shows what actually happened. The dual roles where each actor played both the parent and child was very effective. The main revelation of the second half was easily guessed at, but there were plenty of other little lightbulb moments to keep me interested, and a very satisfying 'Ahhh... so that's it..' moment at the end which caused a little murmered ripple through the audience.

I loved the staging, particularly the curtains of rain, although I kept getting distracted by the puddles, and I thoroughly enjoyed the unpredictibility of some of the props - does the fruit roll about every night I wonder?

A family drama with enough unresolved points to keep me mulling them over for a day or so, and worth seeing for all sorts of reasons despite the critics, but James McAvoy's stammer is worth the price of the ticket by itself.

Not Shock, Just Awe

2009-03-07T09:35:00.008Z

I found myself at the O2 with a couple of hours to kill, and on impulse I decided to be brave and head for the Body World Mirrors of Time exhibition. I have only seen occasional glimpses of Dr Gunther von Hagens’ work on tv and in the press, so although I knew roughly what I was going to see, it was with a fair bit of caution that I walked into the first gallery.

The first sight of the ‘exhibits’ certainly freaked me a little bit. I was interested, but couldn’t bring myself to get too close, so I sort of circled round it for a while in silence (I didn’t bother with the ubiquitous commentary headphones), then decided to move on. The exhibition is designed to take you through every stage of life from conception to decrepitude and death, so the very next room had foetuses of various stages of development. Alongside the flayed and preserved exhibits that provide the instantly recognisable imagery of the exhibition were display cabinets containing various dissected bits and pieces of the human body with explanations about development, growth, health and disease.

I was acclimatised by now, so was able to look much more closely at the main exhibits as I walked around the silent, almost deserted galleries. The corpses are so brightly coloured they could almost be plastic models, apart from the roughness of texture that can be seen on tendons or the ragged edge of a finger or toenail as a reminder that these are real people. The shapes of ears were particularly individual and striking. There was also humour, which rather than feeling grotesque somehow added humanity and warmth, so that far from being a freak show, it became a celebration of the wonders of the body and of being human.

I came out from the exhibition moved and exhilarated, and I am sure that if you are a believer in intelligent design it would have confirmed your views. For me, the experience meant ninety minutes of meditation on the amazing complexities that keep us alive and functioning, and left me with a sense of awe that still hasn’t quite faded.

Dirty Laugh?

2009-03-02T08:05:00.001Z

Is this only funny if you have seen the movie?*

* Thanks to Anna for pointing this out..

On Stalin, Dancing and Ice-cream.

2009-03-01T12:25:00.005Z

I had one of my favourite seats at a preview of Burnt by the Sun at the National Theatre yesterday. The play is set in Russia in 1936 during the Stalinist purges, and Ciaràn Hinds and Rory Kinnear play the two main protagonists, one as a gruff revolutionary soldier, the other as a golden prodigal boy. I have to tell you that there were no surprises in the casting, so I expect you can guess who played which character.

So, back to telling you about my favourite seats. This was a day booking, taking a chance by ringing the box office after the queue at the box office had subsided, but for a tenner I got a seat in the slips. Although the view is slightly restricted I get a individual seat, with tons of space and a balcony to lean over, sharing this little haven with only two other people. It means that I can wriggle, lay my head on my arms, even spread out a tiny picnic if I want to without disturbing a soul. The sense of being in a little haven also means that the others are always happy to chat, which is great for a single theatre goer like myself, and means I get to be nosy about other people’s lives, another of my favourite pastimes. This time it was two friends getting together for a catch-up day, but quite often it is people visiting London from any number of places around the world, telling me about their impressions of the play, London, politics or any number of other things that you just don’t get in conversation on the train or queue at Tescos.

Watching the play, I was slightly distracted as I had heard that there was some concern about the revolving set, due to its weight, and that meant I couldn’t help but watch the sometimes slow scene revolutions with a sense of anticipation that wasn’t quite intended. Also, they need to lose the music at the final blackout – it killed the impact of the final scene and it went on so long it had the whole audience wondering whether there was more to come. So the cast returned on stage to a slightly awkward pause before the applause.

As for the play itself, it was very good, a great evocation of a sort of golden summer before the Great Terror really got going, mixed with a bit of a political thriller and a classic triangle of sexual jealousy.

From the evening overall I can report that that Ciaran Hinds can dance, Rory Kinnear can play the piano, and that Kitkat fingers dipped into vanilla ice-cream are delicious.

England People (not) Very Nice?

2009-02-21T09:06:00.006Z

There is a bit of a fuss developing over England People Very Nice, currently playing at the National Theatre.

I haven't seen it yet, so I don't know whether the objections are valid or not, but one of the protesters is quoted as saying “It [the play] creates new stereotypes about Bangladeshis that I have never heard, that we marry our cousins which is complete rubbish. That is the Pakistanis.”

Is it just me or has he has shot himself in the foot a bit there?

Alternative Realities

2009-02-12T20:25:00.007Z

I started watching Moses Jones purely because of Shaun Parkes who was one of my choices for the next Dr Who. As Matt Smith plays the assistant/sidekick role it is giving me constant reminders of what could have been. Moses Jones is written by Joe Penhall of Landscape with Weapon and Blue/Orange fame so it ought to be good, and on many levels it is. I’m enjoying the plot and the nods to 70’s blaxploitation movies, and there is brilliant acting all round, but I have to say the dialogue is more than a bit flaky, and on more than one occasion it has only been the wonderfulness of the acting that has prevented me from throwing something at the screen. I saw Shaun Parkes as Aaron the Moor at the Globe a couple of years ago, and he was swashbucklingly, joyously evil so that I still chuckle to myself every time I think of it. More of this gorgeous and talented actor please……..

Well, He Did.

2009-01-21T08:11:00.010Z

There seems curiously little to say about the long awaited ceremony yesterday, although for me the best bit was when President Obama fluffed his lines. No feeling of over-rehearsal there.

The event was big, slightly cheesy and very American. But now that feels like a good thing, and because of that the world seems just a tiny bit better this morning.

Do you know who I am?

2009-01-16T09:06:00.007Z

I’m beginning to take it personally. The amount of times I have had to produce not just 'ID', but 'Photo ID' where only a passport or driving licence will do is making me wonder if there is something particularly suspicious about me.

A fair chunk of my work comes through employment agencies, and in the past year I have had to sign forms on numerous occasions to state that I am who I say I am, that I’m entitled to work in the UK, and supply any number of original and photocopy official documents with my photo on them just to pick up a few (quite frankly, nowhere near enough) pounds. Yesterday, regardless of the number of times that I have shown various people in the company my passport, one employment agency sent someone on an 80 mile round trip just so that they could sign yet another form to say that they had seen my original passport themselves… I find myself turning into a Daily Mail cliché, muttering about bureaucracy gone mad.

What do they do about people without passports or driving licences I wonder, now that utility bills are no longer acceptable? Are they excluded from jobs, taking exams, opening bank accounts?

Horror of horrors, I found myself thinking that at least the planned identity card scheme will save all this fuss. Is this part of some master plan to make carrying such a card seem the easy option?

It seems that not only is the road to Hell paved with good intentions, I bet it has tiny irritating steps that make getting there seem a blessed relief.

UPDATE: I still seem to be seething about this, so an article in The Observer came with perfect timing. Much as I prefer grumbling from the sidelines ('Not a joiner' was a constant refrain on my school reports), I might yet be persuaded.

Minus 5 is a Good Thing....

2009-01-11T08:32:00.005Z

....when it makes the roads around Basingstoke look like this.

Hamlet v Hamlet

2009-01-08T20:18:00.002Z

I had already booked to see David Tennant’s Hamlet as a Christmas holiday treat with my sons when my sister asked me to go with her in January. At the time I thought I was being a bit extravagant, but clearly I was just thinking ahead.

The first performance I saw on 30th December had understudy Edward Bennett as Hamlet. The staging was beautifully done. Although my sons have explained to me numerous times how the mirror trick was done in the bedroom scene I still think it was a very impressive effect which glowered over the rest of the play. Patrick Stewart was a sinister but thoughtful Claudius and although I have never really got the hang of Ophelia, Mariah Gale did a great job. Edward Bennett was also a very good Hamlet – there was no sense that he was mouthing the lines or that he wasn’t really in the moment, but there were occasionally glimpses of stage business that were pure examples of Tennant’s style and they highlighted the unspoken gap on the stage. The biggest problem for me though, was how much Edward Bennett resembles Stephen Mangan, physically and vocally, which meant that I kept expecting more laughs than we actually got.

My favourite version of Hamlet has been Mark Rylance’s, played at the Globe for every ounce of black humour and frantic farce that could be dragged out of it, all done without sacrificing a single drop of the tragedy. This version was much more of an ensemble piece and I think the play, and understanding of the other characters, was clearer as a result. I wasn’t sure though if this was just because of the absence of the ‘star’.

I got my chance to check this theory out earlier this week, when I went again with my sister. Tennant undoubtedly shone, from the moment he walked on stage, and I really enjoyed his sharply intelligent approach. It was fascinating to see how a different lead changed the dynamics of the production. It felt faster, probably because Tennant talks quickly, but I was surprised to find that it actually ran 10 minutes longer than the earlier version I had seen (although I suppose they could have had a longer interval … I wasn’t counting, as I was stuck in the usual queue for the ladies). I liked the slightly posh voice he used, which avoided the pitfalls of Dr Who-dom. Another clear difference was in Claudius’ relationship with Hamlet. Bennett’s Hamlet always seemed slightly overwhelmed by Claudius, whereas Tennant’s lightfootedness somehow diminished the power of his stepfather. I’m not sure if either is better, but it certainly made me think more carefully about the power relationships in the play.

Of course, the back injury was on our minds, and it certainly made me wince a bit as he did a one handed press up over Ophelia’s grave, but he seemed pretty much as loose limbed and agile as ever. Until the ovations that is, when we noticed, at the last call, how he was bending his knees when he took his bow…. And was that a bit of a wince when he straightened up? ….. Difficult to tell, but I don’t think I was the only one who noticed, based on the way that the applause stopped quite quickly after that.

Another personal bit of entertainment for me was spotting Andrew Marr telling all passers by that he was waiting for his wife to come out from the ladies and my sister turning to me to say that she thought she knew him from somewhere. It made me feel so much better about the time that I casually said hello to him at the Globe, on the basis that I probably knew him from somewhere and didn’t want to be rude....

Sweeping out the tumbleweed

2008-12-12T08:03:00.007Z

Well, that was a scarily busy few weeks. In the space of one week I moved from the possibility of no work to having more jobs than I know what to do with. When I said yes to all of them, I forgot to calculate in the need to sleep.

I have managed to get to the theatre a few times regardless of all the chaos though...

I saw a couple of the Norman Conquests at the Old Vic, with a wonderful cast bringing what could have been a fairly dated piece right up to date. Stephen Mangan sported a scary beard straight out of Roald Dahl's The Twits for the first half of the run, but returned with a shorn and therefore more expressive face for the rest. I realise that Tom Courtenay sported a beard in his original version of the role, but I didn't get why that mattered in this case - Stephen Mangan was more than capable of blasting any previous actor out of the role, however much of a national treasure they might be. Jessica Hynes, as the put upon sister Annie, balanced comedy and tragedy perfectly - I want to see her on stage more often.

Gethsemane was another great night out, this time at the National. It had a slightly predictable (and perhaps a bit old fashioned) plot, with some caricatures, but Tamsin Greig and Jessica Raine* were worth the price of the ticket twice over as the warring mother and daughter caught up in a battle of principles and politics.

I also finally got around to see War Horse, and I can see why it was such a sell-out. I only managed to get my ticket a day or two before, even though my sons had got theirs on some preferential deal for students months beforehand. A perfect christmas treat, which got a standing ovation - I've never seen that before at a matinee performance, but it felt right.

I've also converted the rest of my household to the genius of Tim Minchin, when we saw him in Southampton in his Ready for This show. I was less impressed with Dylan Moran in Basingstoke though - he kept looking at his watch, and I must admit I felt much the same....

Well, I think I have blown out the cobwebs a bit, even if all I have done is tell you what I did in my (non) holidays.... I haven't even started to dust off my grumbles about telly over the last few weeks, but that will have to wait.

*I'm feeling smug here as it looks like I won't have to buy a hat or eat it.

The Society of Harmonious Fists

2008-11-03T22:36:00.005Z

Well I haven't tried one of these meme things before, but a combination of idle blog-browsing, and the desire for a quick and easy post led me to steal this stolen meme from Billy.

‘Grab the nearest book. Open the book to page 56. Find the fifth sentence. Post the text of the next two to five sentences in your journal/blog along with these instructions. Don’t dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.'

My very nearest book, on the shelf just to the right was The Penguin Dictionary of Modern History.

‘With the connivance of the Government and the active support of the Dowager Empress Tzu Hsi (q.v.), young Chinese enrolled in a secret organisation whose name was translated as ‘The Society of Harmonious Fists’, popularly named the ‘Boxers’. Attacks on converts to Christianity, on missionaries, and on workers on foreign-controlled railways made the European Powers decide to take measures to safeguard their nationals. When reinforcements under Admiral Seymour tried to reach the capital, Peking, they were fired on by the forts at Taku. A Boxer outbreak at once occurred in Peking itself'

I found this strangely satisfying.

The Importance of Being a Spy

2008-10-27T23:22:00.004Z

Well I read Anna’s review of Spyski, and decided it was just the thing for half term with teenagers. Leaving no stone unturned in the search for comedic possibilities, we had genetically modified babies, murdered spies, Russians, British double agents, Chinese baddies, inventive uses for hospital beds and filing cabinets and a wild selection of ludicrous accents, as well as some lovely light little homages to various spy stories. In the tradition of the Reduced Shakespeare Company, or the National Theatre of Brent, it could have been just painfully bad, but instead it turned out to be gloriously silly. At the Lyric Hammersmith until 1st November, I hope it gets a quick revival.

Electric Dreams

2008-10-25T13:09:00.005+01:00

Great news this week that Red Dwarf is to return with the majority of the cast intact, including Kryten, the robot who broke his programming. This was cause for celebration in the Chatterbox household, as our dvds are very well worn, and some new material will be seized upon with much delight. Once we had shared our worries that they will get rid of the wonderful grunginess of the original series we moved onto one of our favourite topics of the moment, which is whether a robot will ever be able to tell a joke that it has created all by itself.

In science fiction, robots are constantly breaking out of their programming to develop independent thought and sometimes a sense of humour, but even in fiction there are very few examples of robots designed with the consciousness and creativity to make a real joke. I certainly can’t think of any evidence of this in the real world, even with the fancy chess-playing computers. Somehow I have difficulty with the idea that Deep Blue, or even one of his cleverer descendents could get the giggles. Maybe that’s my lack of imagination though….

The jury is still out in our house, mainly because we run out of processing power before reaching a conclusion.

While you are thinking about it here’s a bit from an early series of Red Dwarf.

Absolutely bloody fabulous

2008-10-17T13:20:00.009+01:00

Yes, I'm resorting to the lazy blogger's lifeline, a youtube clip, and a chat about what's on the telly.

Life is very hectic at the moment, so a tv programme has to be very special for me to make the effort. Even more so, when you consider that I usually share my viewing with my teenage sons. Beautiful People has really hit the spot though. Based on the book by Simon Doonan and with the wonderful Olivia Coleman as the mum, Debbie, it is about a gay teenager growing up in Reading during the 90's, with the usual comedy complement of idiosyncratic family and friends. What makes the difference though is the amount of really sharp lines which have made us all laugh out loud, mixed with a seriously over-the-top campness. More Malcolm in the Middle than The Wonder Years, we're now half way through the series, but you should still watch it if you can. Here's a clip from episode 2.

Heath Robinson Heaven

2008-10-14T08:04:00.006+01:00

For anyone who likes machines, James May's Big Ideas is a bit of a must see, even if you do have a bit of a problem with some of Mr May's dodgy friends. It gave my geeky heart a huge thrill when this week we saw steel being melted with nothing more than solar power. I don't really care about all the problems with turning this into something that is practical. The mere fact that there are (let's be honest) slightly strange men in deserts doing these sorts of things makes me very happy.

I think James May might find himself thrown out of the petrol head gang if he keeps this up though.

The Odd Shoe Shuffle

2008-10-04T15:13:00.005+01:00

The last time I went out with odd shoes on was 17 years ago, and I had plenty of justification.

I was pregnant with twins so couldn't see my feet

It was dark when I put my shoes on

The shoes were the same style, just different colours

I have just got back from Tesco, where I looked down at my feet beyond the trolley to see this:

On the left, my smart-ish Tesco-suitable boots. On the right, my muddy, baggy and quite frankly a bit leaky gardening boots. I am not pregnant, it wasn't dark, and one is a whole inch higher in the heel than the other. I would be glad of any explanation that doesn't include senility.

On the plus side, I did finish my shopping pretty quickly.

Those Lazy, Hazy Days of ...... Autumn

2008-09-28T10:38:00.007+01:00

I spent yesterday in the garden and it was glorious. Exactly what summer should be. Blue skies, still air, birds, butterflies and bees wandering about their business and the quietness of a sunny afternoon, occasionally broken by a child playing a few houses away, or a training plane puttering across the sky from nearby Blackbushe airport.

The cats seemed as delighted as I was, and spent the whole afternoon drifting around investigating plants and insects, interspersed with lying on their backs gazing dreamily at the vapour trails in the sky.

We have been waiting for days like this all summer, but somehow when one did arrive yesterday it felt so precious that the months of rain and cloud didn't seem to matter.

Three cheers for Indian summers.

A Surfeit of Shakespeare

2008-09-21T11:42:00.010+01:00

Life has been a bit hectic lately, although I have still managed to see three Shakespeare productions in the last few weeks.

The first was the RSC production of The Taming of the Shrew at Stratford, with a surprising and absorbing performance by Michelle Gomez as Katerina. The external play has a modern setting and Christopher Sly is retrieved from a wheelie bin to be treated as a lord and watch the central play which uses seriously over the top elizabethan dress and outrageously hammy acting. He joins in, taking the role of Petruchio after just a few minutes then behaves abominably towards Kate for the rest of the play. Any humour or flirtatiousness is kept well away from the interactions between Kate and Petruchio, all of which are unremittingly grim; although laughter does continue during the first half of the production when I think we aren’t quite sure that he means it… There were a lot of laughs to be had elsewhere throughout, particularly in the first half, and the outrageous accents, and the ever more inventive sexual exploits of Bianca and her beau particularly come to mind.

I was a bit bemused by the change of dress after the interval as the costume gradually became more and more modern, until Bianca’s wedding scene where everyone looked as if they were attending a wedding in 2008. Thinking about it afterwards though, I think it was one of the ways in which the crushing of Kate began to feel so real. The hammy acting gradually diminished through the final acts as well, tightening the pressure, so that by the end, when Lucentio vows that Bianca will obey in just the same way as Kate, it sounds totally believable and not in the least flirtatious or amusing. The reintroduction of the framing plot came as a blessed relief,as the Lady steps in to remove Petruchio from Kate, strip him of his remaining finery and return him to the gutter, whilst Kate picks herself up and leaves with the players

It is the ending though, and the ‘play within a play’ bit which is giving me so much trouble. I have often muttered about the ‘it’s only a play after all’ type of ending, and this is a case in point. The ending makes a lot of sense, establishing the whole misogynistic strand as the fantasy of Christopher Sly. But it also seemed to say is ‘it’s ok, this is just a play and this guy is a creep’. Was this letting us off the hook and making light of Katerina’s subjugation? I still don’t know the answer, but it still has me thinking about it, which is surely the sign of a great piece of theatre.

Whilst I was still mulling this over, I headed over the Globe for a double bill of Timon of Athens, followed by The Merry Wives of Windsor. I hadn’t seen Timon before, and I wonder why this isn’t produced more often. Although it is a bit wordy, this play is right on the button for contemporary issues, as a satire on greed, wealth and what happens when you run out of cash and places to borrow from. I thought of this play a number of times this week as the Lehman Brothers and HBOS debacles unfolded, and I wonder whether the Globe had forseen the extent of the credit crunch when planning their programme for this year. The costume was generally traditional, but with a wonderful twist - all of the company except for Timon and his faithful Steward were wearing capes that looked pretty unremarkable at first, but turned into crow-like wings as soon as an arm was lifted.. A rope mesh had been strung across the heads of the groundlings at roof level, allowing various members of the company to spend time lazily, menacingly, loitering above our heads, watching for an opportunity to swoop and make a killing as weaknesses became apparent.

Simple, but savage and absolutely brilliant. It is playing until 3rd October - See it if you can.

I saw the Merry Wives of Windsor after Timon, and we planned it to be a bit of light relief. It certainly was that, although perhaps the contrast was too great on one day. I found myself groaning a bit at the old jokes before I realised how ridiculous my complaint was. Often described as the first sitcom, it was played with such lightness and a modern sensibility that could easily have fitted into My Family.

Just three plays, but what a range – I reckon this Shakespeare bloke might just have something.

Finally... Elbowed into fashion

2008-09-10T15:29:00.008+01:00

I was chuffed to see that the Mercury Music Prize was won by Elbow, accidentally making me on-trend, as this was the only band on the list that I actually actively like or have seen live. As is the usual way with these things, someone will quickly realise their mistake and Elbow will now plummet rapidly from favour to make way for a band that someone like me couldn't possibly have heard of or liked.

Still, I'm enjoying my moment while it lasts, and I hope they are too.

Afterlife: also featuring acrobats, the Queen, Radiohead and rhyming couplets

2008-08-29T10:35:00.021+01:00

The rainclouds have been presiding over something of a theatrical drought for me this summer, with real life constantly getting in the way.

So, when I had a free evening yesterday I decided to go along to whatever was available at the National Theatre. I ended up with a front row seat at Afterlife . Praise be to Travelex and last minute tickets.

Beforehand, I had a wander around the Press Photographers Year exhibition, which I highly recommend if you can get there by Saturday. Some particular images that stood out for me included the Queen standing glumly under a 1970s style clear plastic umbrella which was clearly specifically chosen to match the royal frock; a photo of Radiohead taking their own photo; a surprisingly hairy Daniel Radcliffe without any clothes; a startling image of a car in the summer floods; and Gordon Brown looking stressed on his way to breakfast.

Afterlife is a biography of Max Reinhardt told through the Everyman plays he instigated at the Salzburg Festival before the Nazis arrived. Nicely staged and well acted, I didn't particularly object to the rhyming couplets that the critics hated so much. Roger Allam did a sterling job as usual, and I thoroughly enjoyed David Schofield's performance as Muller/Death. Poor old Selina Griffiths though, typecast again as Gusti Adler, Reinhardt's PA. She played a similar character in The Smoking Room, and reminds me of Joyce Grenfell as Miss Gossage. But maybe that's just me.

Being in the front row has its advantages, but also brings its own problems: squeaky floorboards on the stage; being able to see the fire exit sign below stage as Reinhardt descends after death; and having to guess what the Nazis were doing when they all pulled a very strange face in unison. I guess that there was a lighting effect to produce scary death heads or something, but it was completely lost on me...

The set was well done, with grand marble steps leading right down to our feet in the front row. It illustrated the grandeur of Reinhardt's productions and lifestyle, and his attempts to break through the fourth wall very well. Whether intentionally or not though, the attempts to reach across the void were all a bit awkward. Comments to the audience, such as 'Madam, your wig is crooked' were greeted with embarrassed laughter and a tiny hint of a groan. This could all be taken as a comment on Reinhardt's style and ultimate failures, but I personally think not. The highlight though was Reinhardt's direction of servants and eventually the whole cast in a perfectly choreographed mime of a dinner being served. Wonderful.

Overall, the play didn't add up to as much as it thought it did, but it was still a perfectly enjoyable night out and I don't really think the critical venom was justified. So, it's worth a look if you can get a discounted seat, as I notice top price seats have now gone up to £41 .... Ouch!

Oh, and on the way in to the theatre I stopped to watch a great dance/acrobatic display in the outdoor performance space. I love the South Bank.

Edewkation, eddication, educashun

2008-08-20T20:37:00.006+01:00

I have been meaning to write something about the TV programme Can’t Read, Can’t Write, which finished a few weeks ago but I can’t seem to get my thoughts down in less than 3.000 words, so I thought it would probably be better not to put you through that particular ordeal.

However, my sons get their GCSE results tomorrow, so I thought I would have my say about exams before I know how they have done.

There are bound to be the usual comments about exams getting easier, but the questions looked pretty similar, and occasionally harder than mine, even if they were put into slightly more accessible language. Teaching is now focused on the test and there is no pussy-footing around with anything much that doesn’t help with exams; so it seems to me that grades are bound to improve on that basis.

Whether it means our children are getting a better education is a completely different question though. I went to a pretty poor comprehensive, a feeder school for the Ford factory down the road. Although I loved my time there, learnt a lot, and did pass my exams, I certainly didn’t get the shiny grades that are expected nowadays. But then exams weren’t necessarily the point in those dim and distant days. I also didn’t get the breadth of knowledge that I wanted – I couldn’t learn Latin or the classics, for example (although my lifespan in the school grounds would probably have been very limited if I had). What is interesting though, is that one of my sons said last week that even with its problems my education had been much broader than his. Overall, I agree with him. That is a bit of a worry really, if a pretty dodgy comprehensive in London in the 1970s produced a more rounded education than that of a highly rated comprehensive in the leafy and wealthy home counties in the 2000s.

My kids will have better grades, and a better knowledge in the narrow range of areas they have studied than I did, but who got a better education is still a difficult question to answer, and a much more interesting one than whether exams are getting easier.

My Day Out

2008-08-08T23:20:00.008+01:00

So, the plan was, head into London by lunchtime, pick up a boat at Westminster pier to take us through and around the Thames Barrier on the water, then on to the Thames Barrier pier, so we could spend an afternoon at the visitor centre learning about a huge great machine that looks like a series of buildings and also have a cup of tea and blueberry muffin in the café. I checked the boat timetable online, and all looked good. After I printed it out I noticed a tiny note at the bottom which said ‘These boats cruise to/from the Thames Barrier, but only stop at Barrier Gardens Pier for pre-booked groups’. Hmmm, surely not? So I rang them, and yes, it is true. If you want to visit the Thames Barrier you cannot visit by boat unless there are 15 of you wanting to do the same thing at the same time. You have to go by car, or have a fiddly and time consuming journey by bus or train. The time involved means that you can’t get up close to the barrier on the water, and visit the visitor centre in the same afternoon (or at least not without scrapping the cup of tea and piece of cake). When I rang the Thames Barrier Visitor Centre they didn’t seem remotely perturbed by this.

We went to the Imperial War Museum instead. Lovely tea and cake.

Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot

2008-07-25T12:10:00.011+01:00

I have said before that we don't see enough of David Calder so I was pleased to find him in Burn Up, even though it turned out to be enjoyable twaddle with a preposterous but suitably swishy plot.

What really set me wondering though is the thought that, however well intentioned, this sort of show might mean that the evidence for global warming (the disaster the heroes are trying to prevent) might also be dismissed as enjoyable twaddle. This came to the fore during the scenes set in a photogenic cold and endangered artic type place. The reason I didn't note where this cold place was supposed to be was that I was distracted with a wide range of simultaneous thoughts including:

Can we get the obligatory sex scene out of the way now so that we can get back to the preposterous plot?

Am I a bad person to laugh at the phrase 'An inconvenient poop' or just lacking in any taste or discrimination?

I wonder if the gas given off by the melting ice really does burn like that?

Jeremy Clarkson will be heading off to this place with his lighter as soon as he hears about this.

What I really want to know though, is whether the facts are soundly based on science or if they have been 'sexed-up' by a little bit or a lot. Clearly these are worst case scenarios as these make the best story, but I would have liked some more information. Perhaps we could have a rolling feed at the bottom of the screen to say things like '...Clearly this is a highly implausible plot device, but the ice really will do that honest!.....' and '....This bit is based on real research and you can find it here...' or that sort of thing anyway.

So, does this sort of enjoyable hokum help the case for doing something about global warming, or hinder it?

I might, of course, be taking it all too seriously. In so many ways anything featuring Rupert Penry-Jones, Bradley Whitford, and Marc Warren has got to be worth watching anyway, so I have series linked it on my skybox regardless.

UPDATE: Well I watched the final episode, and it was still enjoyable hokum. The main result for me is the re-ignition of my love for Bradley Whitford and another bout of mourning for The West Wing.

Uxbridge Odyssey

2008-07-16T20:50:00.005+01:00

Harper Regan is on its final few weeks at the Cottesloe, and I popped in to see it yesterday. Directed by Marianne Elliot (Much Ado in 2006, and Saint Joan last year) and with Lesley Sharp in the lead, I really didn’t want to miss it.

However, when it started I began to get a sinking feeling in my stomach that this was going to be a stagey piece that would never get me involved. The first half, a series of vignettes, beautifully acted but full of oblique language and loaded pauses never really took off as a whole, although it got me thinking very hard, trying to piece together what on earth was going on. Was there a coherent story here at all, was there a family secret lurking, or was it all just a load of nothing? Clearly, I wasn’t the only one, as the foyer in the interval was full of people debating these very points, interspersed with those who had already read reviews and programme notes, and so were ready to drag their more imaginative friends back to what the point was most likely to be.

I returned for the second half thinking that this was going to be thought-provoking but perhaps just a touch worthy. But I was wrong. In the second half the play suddenly took off. I’m not quite sure how they did it, as it gripped me so well that I stopped watching the smoke and mirrors and just settled down to enjoy the ride. The main turning point came, I think, with the two scenes of mothers and daughters which were raw, exhausting and exhilarating to watch. How do actors manage to shout and cry every night without just getting too tired to be bothered?

The final scene was perfectly played, just avoiding sentimentality, and I heard that almost silent sigh from the audience at the final black out which I think means that I wasn’t the only one who was impressed.

Lesley Sharp was just as brilliant as I would have expected, Nick Sidi was a bit of a revelation, but I was blown away by Jessica Raine who hasn’t even left Rada yet, but left me hanging on her every word, move and breath. If she isn’t very, very famous indeed in a few years time I will buy a hat just so I can eat it.

'Skinny Boys in Suits'

2008-07-07T23:43:00.005+01:00

Well, what a rollercoaster ride it has been for those final Dr Who episodes…

I watched them back to back when I returned from holiday, pausing just for a short catching of breath and the tiniest of ‘woo-hoos’ before continuing on to the grand finale of Journey’s End.

Cheesy? Yes. Did it matter? Not one tiny bit.

I was always keen on Catherine Tate as a companion, but I have to say she surpassed all my expectations. It was great to see a really sound buddy relationship on the TARDIS. Another fascinating thing was how similar Tate’s fast talking persona is to Tennant’s – it took this episode for me to really see it though. I wonder if the casting or the plot came first? Woteva, it worked for me.

So, I was really sad to see Donna go home – more so than Rose, who seemed a bit out of place this series, perhaps intentionally…. I got really confused about whether she got her happy ending. On the whole, I think not, although she got a very pretty substitute to play with. Gives the option for lots more complicated reunions in the future though, so all in all quite a smart move I think.

Clever RTD though – just what we needed to clear the decks ready for the start of a new regime. And didn’t he have fun – putting in all the bits you would expect, and having lots of little games, like the Daleks interrupting the brilliantly clichéd Rose and Doctor reunion. Very, very silly, but I liked very much.

I have loved every incarnation of Dr Who that I have ever seen, although I do have a bit of a gap between Peter Davidson and Paul McGann*. So I don’t have much truck with the competition between different incarnations, and tend to lap it up uncritically, whatever I am given, but here is my wish list for the next series anyway.

• Keep with the teatime family drama and up the sci-fi content a bit
• Lets have the Doctor back to his snappy, energetic, fast-talking self, rather than moping about with tears in his eyes.
• Lovely though it all was, I think the Doctor’s heart has been broken enough now – surely a Time Lord will need to hang around with mates for at least an aeon before he will have recovered.
• Bernard Cribbins was great – I’d like to see Wilf as a companion for one of the specials at least
• More running about and pulling levers on complicated Heath Robinson type machinery please.
• Bring back the Master and let us have a little rest from the Daleks

So that I’ve got all my Doctor Who thoughts dealt with in one go, here are my wishes for the next Doctor:
Black : Shaun Parkes**,
Female: Catherine Tate**, Tamsin Greig ** or Ann Marie Duff
Pretty and Talented: Julian Rhind-Tutt, James McAvoy, or John Simm**
Just because he’d be brilliant: Philip Glenister

*Colin what?.... Sylvester who?....lalalala
** Who cares if they have been in the series before?

Intermission

2008-06-25T19:41:00.007+01:00

I'm off on holiday at the weekend to here, 179.52 miles away....

While I am there, I aim to visit this place, 33.55 miles away.....

.....and maybe here, 65.28 miles away......

.....and possibly get my industrial history fix 74.5 miles away.

Whatever did we do before online maps and route planners?

The Sherbet Pips Did Break the Spell a Bit

2008-06-22T14:20:00.010+01:00

Siobhan Redmond is currently playing Titania/Hippolyta in A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Globe.

The production had some lovely touches. The seemingly obligatory doubling of the roles of Oberon/Theseus and Titania/Hippolyta gave us changes in accent - English vowels as the wedding couple, and Scottish as fairy royalty. As the actors are really Scottish, to me at least, it made the fairy characters seem more genuine than their English accented counterparts.

The staging was nicely done, with a deep blue gauze as a backdrop for the scenes in the forest. As we left the magical forest the fairies removed the backdrop by drawing it across the heads of the groundlings. This was a masterful stroke, literally removing a veil from their eyes. I'm not sure the groundlings were as happy as I was though, as they grabbed at vanishing glasses and caps gone astray, and started straightening mussed up hair.

Redmond was striking on stage, with fantastic hair (good enough for its own credits), crackling with energy* and being suitably regal. Of course she is great at doing regal anyway, using it to great comic effect in The Smoking Room. It's impressive what can be done with a suitably raised eyebrow.

I am also pleased to report that the crinkly packets of sweets are gone and the tubs are back, so no irritating crackles at quiet bits. Yay! Although I did manage to drop my whole tub of sherbet pips on the floor to startling effect. Oops. There may still be scope for more redesign on the whole sweetie packaging concept.

*Redmond, not the hair

You say Bevan, I say Beveridge

2008-06-16T22:43:00.009+01:00

GCSE time has been taking its toll in our house.

We had a heated 'debate' this evening over who was really responsible for the introduction of the Welfare State, which actually involved someone stomping off upstairs. Teenagers today eh?

Later, we argued about who had the tv remote, so the smugness didn't last for too long.

Remembrance of Teenage Embarrassment Past

2008-06-08T11:45:00.007+01:00

I've been watching The Inbetweeners which ended last week. I missed the first episode, but quickly got addicted to this little trip down memory lane. It follows the adventures of four nerdy, wannabe cool, sixth form boys as they negotiate growing up and losing their virginity. Part of the charm is that this is not Skins, which I got bored with quite quickly. Yes, the plots were a bit obvious, and the reliance on jokes about teenage boys' main sexual activity were a bit tiring, but it really hit the spot for me in evoking those awkward teenage years.

I watched it with my teenage sons which added a whole new dimension, giving me the opportunity to relive that cold sweat of embarrassment from watching Bouquet of Barbed Wire, or anything referring to sex really, with my parents in the room.

Did I mention it is also funny? The horror of holidays with parents, the awkwardness of first sexual encounters and the humiliations available at Thorpe Park were toe-curlingly explored. Also, a special medal should go to Oriane Messina for her tiny but effective role as a predatory Driving Examiner.

An acquired taste probably, but I liked it.... Best watched with parents or children for the full experience.

As far as carbon goes, I have huge feet

2008-05-31T10:58:00.006+01:00

We have been discussing as a family what we should do to cut our fuel costs (or, should I say, I have been nagging the kids about turning lights and computers off...). This led us to discuss what we should cut back. I find that I have two treasured luxuries that I am prepared to bankrupt myself to maintain - my tumbledrier, and deep hot bubbly baths.

Even worse, I am still, very guiltily, using free plastic bags from Tesco, mainly because otherwise I would have to buy bags to wrap my rubbish in to throw away. This gives me an excuse to show you this Tim Minchin video......

It appears I am an environmental monster.

What do you think I should make my priority to give up?

I grow old, I grow old...

2008-05-19T16:15:00.011+01:00

I went to see David Calder in King Lear at the Globe a few weeks back. It was very good and have been mulling over the experience since. Here are the edited highlights from my mullings….

1. We haven’t seen enough of David Calder since he played Bramwell’s Dad.

2. I couldn’t hear David Calder’s words very clearly at all, but I don’t know whether that is down to his enunciation, the position I was in, or just boring, creeping middle-aged-ness.It didn’t matter that I couldn’t hear the words clearly, David Calder was like a force of nature and even though I hadn’t seen the play before, I think I still got the point

3. I’ve finally stopped thinking of Green Wing every time I see Sally Bretton, although I’d have liked to see Goneril played with the wicked sexiness she had as Kim.

4. The eye-gouging is splendidly gory with groans and eurwrgh sounds from the audience. Brilliant.

5. My first visit of the season reminded me how much I love this theatre for its mix of informality, silliness, and sudden intensity. My favourite place is in the middle gallery on the side, where you can watch the groundlings, usually composed of teenagers, tourists and the small band of determined die-hard regulars, with an occasional razor sharp fashionista refugee from the Donmar. They start off milling about, jostling for the best spots near the stage or finding a wall to lean against, standing with arms crossed, fidgeting, chatting and smirking. Gradually though, they stop fussing over their sweets and cans of lager and by the end there is nothing but intense concentration and quiet.

6. Thinking about quiet, the Globe should go back to selling sweeties in little tubs, rather than the crinkly bags they are using these days.

The main conclusion I draw from all this is that if sweetie packets are starting to make me cross, it’s time to call out my inner teenager by playing a bit of suitably bolshy music really loudly.

Although not so loudly as to upset the neighbours.

Mostly Bollocks, Though Interesting

2008-05-11T11:16:00.005+01:00

I was subjected to a Myers Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) analysis at a training day last week.

My first problem was with the questionnaire which is an either/or tick boxy thing. In most cases I could have chosen either box, depending on my mood at the moment, and the situation I was imagining myself in. For example, did I prefer (a) thinking or (b) feeling? Well BOTH actually.

The result of this dodgy questionnaire is that I was categorised into one of 16 personality types. This brings me to my second problem with the whole thing – the descriptors of the different types read like horoscopes, and actually, I could identify with bits from most of them.

I asked the ‘experts’ what they thought about this and here is a brief summary of our discussion….

Me: Can you explain why the either/or questions are used, rather than trying to elicit more graduated responses?

Expert: Oh, your type are always the ones that query the questionnaire process. I expect you also object to being put into a category when you feel that everyone is unique?’.

Me: Erm…….yes.....

Spot on actually. I thought it best to sit quietly for the rest of the day

The Truth Will Out?

2008-05-04T13:27:00.009+01:00

I’ve just finished reading Bill Bryson’s take on Shakespeare. It is a fairly slim book in the field of Shakespeare scholarship, and this is because he sticks to the FACTS. This is so refreshing I forgave the sloppiness which allowed the same facts to be repeatedly repeated just a few pages apart. Clearly, if he hadn’t done this he wouldn’t have had a book but an article.

I particularly enjoyed his quietly efficient demolition of the 'Shakespeare didn’t write Shakespeare' theories, although it reminded me that Mark Rylance (one of my acting heroes and ex-artistic director of the Globe), based his Chichester Festival play on this very point last year. Although I keep hoping Rylance is being ironic I can’t find any evidence to suggest it – how depressing.

Coincidentally, I also read The Shakespeare Secret, a junky thriller of the Da Vinci Code school this week*. It used a fair number of the authorship theories and added some more of its own for good measure. Although the author had the decency to point out that the theories are speculative nonsense, you had to read the note at the back to find that out, so I’ll bet there are a few more people out there believing there can’t be smoke without fire.

I’m clearly lacking the believer’s gene. This may be because I have also been a civil servant and the experience quickly confirmed my view that any real conspiracy will come to light one way or another, usually through cock-up or someone just not able to resist sharing how clever they have been.

Or am I just missing something really important?

UPDATE: Mark Rylance obviously felt that I needed clarification on his views. Bacon? Bacon?

*I know, I know, and it was just as awful as it sounds. In my defence I didn’t have anything else in the house I hadn’t read, apart from GCSE revision guides on To Kill a Mocking Bird.

Oh Noes

2008-05-03T10:14:00.004+01:00

I was going to add a witty caption but I feel too fed up. Anyone else care to have a try?

UPDATE: No takers then? Well I have to say that the lolcats caption idea seemed appropriate at the time, but given that the 'lol factor' seems to have been one of the reasons for voting for him (See here and here and here) somehow it doesn't seem funny any more.

A Salute to 'Humph'

2008-04-26T10:40:00.008+01:00

I felt the need to record the death of Humphrey Lyttelton yesterday. It probably seems a bit strange but our whole family feels slightly bereft...

My Dad used to go to his Jazz club in London in the 1950s, and continued to follow his career with a remote but affectionate interest.

When I needed a project for my cultural history dissertation, I chose the Beaulieu Jazz Festivals in the late 1950s, and early 1960s (fascinating time with so many cultural influences, but I’ll save that till another time). Humph was at the festivals and the ‘Beaulieu riots’ where a trumpet was stolen, but later returned, and people threw paper plates at the stage*. I read lots of his writings and reminiscences of the time, and grew very fond of this intensely private, wry and astute man, a lovely counterbalance to the ebullience of George Melly, another great character and chronicler of the period.

My 15 year old kids are also a bit sad. They knew him as the quizmaster on I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue, and are wondering if anyone could possibly step into his shoes. I suspect not really … so another inevitable case of the world moving on to the next thing.

So, here is a three minute celebration of Humphrey Lyttelton before the world moves on.

* this was a British festival after all...

The Rise of the Machines

2008-04-18T16:09:00.004+01:00

You may have wondered why the Blue Ball Machine is one of my favoured links over there on the side of this blog.

The reason is that I love machines. Not swishy ipod-y, hi-techy machines which hide all their secrets behind black or silver blank faces, but the machines which really show you that they’re working.

For this reason, I love steam engines, old cars, typewriters, telephones and computers.

I was at Bletchley Park last year, when the Colossus was in full action, and it was a wonderous thing to behold. The kids and I stood for ages, blocking the aisle for less enamoured visitors, asking all sorts of questions, and were finally rewarded with a souvenir piece of tape. Actually the souvenir was irrelevant – all those dials, switches and wheels whizzing about was mesmerising. We also went to see the Bombe which was fully reconstructed at the time but not operating. Again, we interrogated the poor curator until to get rid of us he gave us a broken valve from the machine, and we skipped away happily with our spoils.

I went to the Royal Observatory yesterday, and there it was the wonderful clocks that held me in thrall, industriously clicking their lives away (and mine – sadly!). I have similar trouble when I head to Amberley Working Museum, which is full of obsolete machinery such as telexes and old telephone exchanges, many of which are still working, and if you ask politely you can get to play! And, one of the highlights of our holiday in Northern France last year was visiting the huge glass factory.....

The Blue Ball Machine is about as close as I can get to watching a machine in action when I am sitting at my computer. And as such, it makes me very happy. Does this mean that I am a geek?

God, the Carnage, but is it Art?

2008-04-17T23:39:00.005+01:00

I wasn’t going to write another theatre related post for a while, but I can’t resist telling you about God of Carnage. I had a pretty rotten seat, up in the gods (hah!), but the play was fantastic. The plot is slight in the extreme, but that wasn't really the point. Instead we had a character assassination of recognisable middle class characters, which worked because of the fantastic cast who all acted their socks off, and the great dialogue, cleverly translated (or possibly recrafted?).

Tamsin Greig was wonderful as the repressed wife, but really, singling anyone out would be an injustice to the rest. I have read in some reviews that the playwright (Yasmina Reza) gets upset at the laughter from British audiences, but I don’t know why, the laughter and gasps were because of the savagery.

There aren’t many discounts sadly, so quite an expensive one to do, but if you are, have been , or intend to be, married, middle-class or have children, this is definitely worth a look.

Not one to go to with school gate mums though - might be a bit uncomfortable on the way home....

Never So Good?

2008-04-11T15:03:00.012+01:00

I saw Never So Good at the National this week. With Jeremy Irons and Robert Glenister in leading roles, and written by Howard Brenton, I was expecting something a little fiery. What we got was a perfectly decent biography and history play, taking us through the main formative events of Harold Macmillan’s life. Apart from some flaky American accents the acting was great. I was particularly impressed by the way that there weren’t any corny impressions, instead just sketches of the characters, and that worked very well.

I was less impressed by the clunky ending, where Macmillan directly addresses the audience, reminding them of his autobiography, and (I paraphrase) ‘still available on AbeBooks or search on Google’. Brenton did exactly the same thing with In Extremis (a retelling of Heloise and Abelard) at the Globe in 2006, with another squirmy ending to a very competent play, where Heloise shows a copy of the book, ‘which is still being read today’. This ‘it’s only a play’ stuff is the theatrical equivalent of ‘and then I woke up and it was all a dream’, and it made me quite cross*.

What really bothered me though, was wondering what had happened to the Howard Brenton of The Romans in Britain which got Mary Whitehouse all hot and bothered in the 80s. As a younger writer he had apparently been happy to court controversy, but nowadays, although referencing current hot topics (Iraq in Never So Good, Religious fanaticism in In Extremis) it all seemed very middle of the road stuff.

I was also a bit bemused by the young Macmillan who dogs his older version throughout the play, carping and criticising his prevarications and compromises, egging him on to be braver.. But why was the character there? To fill in Macmillan’s motivations? Move the narrative along? Well it did both, but I still didn’t really get the point. But yesterday it all suddenly fell into place as a result of reading this post. As well as suggesting that Macmillan was haunted by his younger ideals, it made me wonder if the young Macmillan was also a hint to how Brenton feels today after his early notoriety, producing successful but certainly less edgy work, constantly dogged by his youth. And with his younger self still looking over his shoulder, making snidey comments.

If so, I know how he feels. I love my life now, but I still have that stroppy teenager whispering in my ear.

* I'm probably being unfair as Shakespeare did it all the time!

Sing if you're glad you were there

2008-04-05T14:41:00.016+01:00

30 years ago this month was the much celebrated Rock against Racism/Anti-Nazi League march through London, ending in the gig at Victoria Park in Hackney. There has been a bit of reminiscing about this and what amazes me the most is how much people remember. My own memories are hazy in the extreme.

I was a very politically conscious 15 year old at the time, into punk and left wing protest, although my involvement mainly consisted of intense, self-righteous debates with National Front sympathisers at school and in the kitchen at parties; raging at my fairly conservative, bemused, but also broadly sympathetic and tolerant parents; wearing badges and reading the right weekly papers.

I had seen Tom Robinson at the Gants Hill Odeon, but I hadn’t been able to go to any gigs in London until then. So, when the opportunity to do a bit of protesting and get to see some bands arose... well, I would have been mad to say no wouldn’t I? Some of the teachers from school were going, so I persuaded a couple of friends to come with me for the rally and gig in the park. I really can’t remember what I said to my parents, but I don’t remember any arguing about going. Maybe I just said I was going into London for the day with friends and some teachers - who knows? Whatever stratagems I used, I managed to arrange it and eventually we pitched up in plenty of time to meet up as a group beforehand. We had a lovely wander through London, bumping into other friends and various right-on teachers, did a bit of chanting and fist waving, particularly when we went past the ‘tools of oppression’ in Fleet Street, got a bit scared when we had to go past a rival NF march corralled back by the police, but generally had a great day out.

Victoria Park was huge and packed, so we settled ourselves down on the grass at the back, and lazed about. I should point out that I was too vain to wear my glasses when I was 15 and I could hardly even see where the stage was, so distinguishing anyone on it (even when it was Jimmy Pursey and The Clash) was far beyond me. In addition, the sound system was clearly inadequate to the task, so we made an effort to listen when we could (when the wind was blowing in the right direction), but none of this seemed to matter. We were young and in the right. And that was the point really.

Much Ado About.... some brilliant stuff actually.

2008-04-02T19:54:00.006+01:00

Last week I went to see one of the last performances of Much Ado about Nothing at the National, with Zoe Wanamaker and Simon Russell Beale, directed by Nicholas Hyntner. What a beautiful production. I hadn’t ever seen Zoe Wanamaker live before, but she was subtle, light and her performance was note perfect. Simon Russell Beale was just as always, with his slightly idiosyncratic delivery which always makes his performances stand out.

The last Beatrice I saw was Tamsin Greig in the Marianne Elliot production for the RSC in 2006. That had set an incredibly high bar to reach, wiping the floor with the Thomson/Branagh film. Tamsin won an Olivier Award for her performance, leading to one of the best acceptance speeches I have ever seen…

Anyway, to try to compare the two productions is a bit difficult, largely because they were sooooo different.

The RSC production was lush, joyous, vibrant and musical with an absolute riot of optimism, despite the ominous undertones that came from setting it in pre-revolutionary Cuba. Beatrice and Benedick were clearly disappointed in love, but still had hope and energy enough for flirting. The eavesdropping scenes were just magical, using all the comic potential of the bushes to the full. Joseph Millsom was a fresh faced Benedick, pretending to be a curmudgeon.

The production at the National was spare by comparison – It felt to me like a perfect recreation of Tuscan light, with a simple quartered wooden set which moved around for scene changes, and just for the fun of it sometimes. The difference was really in Beatrice and Benedick though. This time they were older and weren’t just disappointed in love. They were also sad, verging on bitter, and had largely given up hope. There was a sweetness and poignancy which undercut the playfulness of the lines. Both leads played their parts to perfection, and I loved the swimming pool eavesdropping. Simon RB splashed in at just the right moment, peeping over the edge and dripping to full comic effect, whilst Zoe Wanamaker worked wonders with her broom and hat props before delivering an exactly timed comic dive into the pool.

I came out dancing from the RSC production and sighing from the NT version. I think I am going to refuse to choose between them.

Bourne to Boogie**

2008-03-26T17:49:00.011Z

I watched Billy Elliot on Sky this week, mainly because my channel-hopping finger was too tired to move. It led me to wonder why ballet routinely fails to show its ‘muscularity’, instead appearing as some airy-fairy undertaking with slips of girls prancing around in net curtains*. I suspect this is partly because it is a bit of a minority interest to see it live, and as a rule it doesn’t translate at all well to tv.

We’re back to my obsession with this live performance thing aren’t we? Although I haven’t seen a huge amount of traditional ballet, those productions I have seen have always been a seriously physical experience, none of which comes across unless you are actually there. The one exception that I can think of is the Matthew Bourne Swan Lake, where you can actually see all those muscles working, even on the telly, and I love, love, love it for the combination of muscles and music.

Of course, this is what is chosen for Billy Elliot. Much as I enjoyed it, I found myself wondering whether it would have been braver to show Billy in a different production, or whether that particular ballet is the only one which doesn’t have a shorthand implication of campness? Of course, this is a nonsense, as the Matthew Bourne version abandons the traditional story for that of a doomed gay love affair. I then got myself tangled up in what this meant for Billy Elliot (are we supposed to take the meaning that ballet is or isn’t just for girls and gays?) and I disappeared in a puff of gender confusion...... Actually, I just went to bed.

*As a small girl, one of my fantasies was to be a ballerina in miles of tulle, despite the fact that I had the co-ordination of a fairy elephant. Nowadays my fantasies would probably involve the male dancers and less prancing.

** I hope that the puns will stop when I 'mature' as a blogger. Until then, sorry!

Glamorous Indie Rock and Roll*

2008-03-13T12:03:00.004Z

I was channel-hopping last weekend and caught a bit of Pop’s 50 Most Annoying Moments. I had my own annoying moment when they stated that politicians claiming to be fans of rock bands is ‘annoying’.

Whilst I wouldn't argue with the basic premise, the reason this was annoying was apparently that David Cameron, Gordon Brown or indeed anyone over 40 wouldn’t like, or even have heard of, the Killers or Arctic Monkeys. I was so incensed I spat out my cocoa and my nightcap fell off.

Clearly the majority of oldies such as myself won’t know about the up and coming bands and trends, or understand the minutiae of what’s in or out for each youth tribe, but the popular end of indie-ish rock, which tends to be the politicians choice, uses the same language of guitar rock and R&B that anyone born after 1940 recognises. When a band makes it big, even those without their finger on the pulse are going to respond. I remember catching the Arctic Monkeys when they played Top of the Pops for the first time. I was cooking, and it was on in the background, but I stopped everything and stood saucepan in hand in the middle of the kitchen, blown away by their energy and freshness – I bought the album (the old fashioned way on CD) the next day. Similarly the Kaiser Chiefs and The Killers are currently my music of choice for dancing to in the kitchen. They are lumbered with the uncool fans of my demographic (which will kill their credibility) simply because they have made it big**. I defy anyone who loved guitar based rock and pop music, whether it be The Clash, The Who or Bruce Springsteen in their youth NOT to enjoy these bands at some level, even if it is just picking out influences and instances of theft.

Spin-doctoring makes any of these ‘my favourite tracks’ exercises suspect, in that no politician in their right mind would produce a list of personal favourites about anything without running it past their PR Advisors, and that IS annoying. I do have a problem with Gordon Brown loving the Arctic Monkeys – I would have thought Snow Patrol would be more his cup of cocoa, but who knows what he, or anyone else listens to in their private moments. Personally, I have an inappropriate secret weakness for Eminem.

Even more annoying is the idea that politicians have to bother with these types of publicity exercise at all. Who cares what they listen to or watch? I don’t care if they share my interests as long as they do their job well enough to ensure that all art forms are encouraged and everyone can follow their own preferences.

* I did think about giving this piece the title ‘It’s All Rock and Roll to Me’, but I thought quoting Billy Joel would probably date me sooooo badly that no-one, including myself, would be able to bring themselves to read it.

** Of course, the fact that I like these bands virtually guarantees that the over-40's will be their *only* fan base

Why oh why?

2008-03-08T21:02:00.004Z

I started this blog because… erm, actually I don’t know why. It seemed that virtually everyone I know in the online world has had a go, some burning bright for a short while, then vanishing in a puff of smoke, others managing to be consistently thought provoking, enjoyable or just plain funny over the long term, and some of these have become an integral part of my day. I didn’t aim to emulate those, as I *do* have some grasp of reality after all, but I thought if I didn’t jump on the bandwagon soon, I never would.

I didn’t have any strategy or policy, and decided I would write about anything that took my fancy. As it turns out, as yet I have felt uncomfortable blogging about anything personal, even though I don’t think anyone I know is reading this. I also haven’t blogged about the political things that make me shout at the telly, or the strange and funny things that happen in my day. Instead, I seem to be using this as an online diary to dump the things I haven’t had an opportunity to say in person or online elsewhere.

So, I suppose it turns out that the aim of this blog is to witter on about things I can’t persuade anyone else to listen to…. Not terribly encouraging, but I suppose according to much of the printed press, that is all blogging is anyway. Although I don’t agree with the criticism that blogging routinely receives, thinking about it, many (although not all) of my favourite blogs are by people who are also professional or published writers of various kinds in their 'real' lives, which suggests that I am making a quality judgement based on a similar criteria. That no one gets paid for the blogs I read also highlights that money doesn't necessarily make an engaging writer, but I think we knew that anyway.

So, it turns out that my blog is the egocentric type, but at least it’s the type that journalists hate, so it’s not all bad.

Boys will be girls will be boys ...

2008-03-04T18:27:00.000Z

Whats on Stage awards were announced last week, and amongst the awards was Propeller's performance of Twelfth Night at The Old Vic. Guardian review here . I had forgotten about this in my review of the year, but I don't know how.

I went to see it with Ms Skeadugenga, and it was a very impressive production indeed. All male, which I think is the best way for this particular play to be cast*, it had some fantastic performances, notably Feste, played by Tony Bell, and Viola, played by Tam Williams.

Tony Bell managed to neatly sidestep all the problems of being a Shakespearian clown, and particularly endeared himself by rebuking the audience with 'keep up' when we were being particularly slow. Apparently he also played a blinding set in the foyer during the interval, although I missed it, being busy with the icecreams.

I remembered Tam Williams as the doomed recruit in The Trench, but here he played a wonderfully well defined girl, managing the whole clever-cleverness of boy plays girl pretending to be boy, without too many coy asides to the audience.

Great stuff, and the award is well deserved.

* thinking about it some more, I would love to see an all female version though. The Globe did some experiments with all female casting a few years ago, and although some reviewers did comment on an air of jolly-hockey-sticks, it was still a good idea - pity I missed it.

Being Human

2008-02-21T17:06:00.005Z

Just a quick rant.

I watched Being Human last night by accident and loved it. Dark, and with the perfect mix of domesticity and monsters and a large dash of slacker comedy sensibility. It felt like a pilot, and I was looking forward to the next episode.

But, I read today that it was a 'one-off drama', and that the pretty mediocre Phoo Action (aiming at the yoof market) from last week is the one from this batch that got the commission.

If this is correct, there is no justice......

Ah.... right...... as you were then.

Report from the front line

2008-02-20T17:54:00.003Z

I went to see Women of Troy last night, and it was an interesting experience for lots of reasons.

1. I got a cheap last minute seat in the front row - Yay -the third time that has happened, so I think disorganisation is a virtue when National Theatre tickets are involved.

2. Being in the front row I got hit by the big blast at the end of the play, and covered in dust/ash. Once I finished spitting out the bits, I thought that was a bit of a result for the notion of theatre as an involving experience.

3. I could see Hecuba's snot get stuck to the stage and pull away in a great big string - certainly an authentic experience.

4. I remained uninvolved, despite the great acting, good view, great set, and a great play with enormous, tragic themes.

The last point has been worrying me all day. Apart from the fabulous slow-mo dancing sequences, which I found tremendously moving, my main feeling was of wonderment that I didn't feel anything despite the god-awful things that were being acted out.

Is it because I know that this all ends very badly and didn't want the emotional investment I wondered, but in that case why do I still get suckered into Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet etc? It isn't that the play was a dud either - I have been thinking about the play for the rest of today as well, usually the sign of a good-un, and I know that it was excellent and I enjoyed it, but at an intellectual level, rather than an emotional one.

I *like* emotional engagement though, and I want it back, even though I'm sure it means my hidden depths are shallow.

Is there Life in Gene?

2008-02-15T08:14:00.003Z

Ashes to Ashes started last week, and I couldn't decide whether to look forward to it or not.

Gene Hunt was clearly a great invention, and it was inevitable and highly desirable that he would be brought back. The risk was that without John Simm the intensity would vanish from the experience, and instead we would be left with lightweight clowning and nostalgia.

I have to say that I enjoyed it much more than I expected to. Bringing a woman in for the eighties was absolutely spot on, giving an opportunity to highlight gender politics, but she did seem a bit shrill and frenetic against the relaxed joshing of the established gang in that first episode. Maybe that was the point though.

I joined the Met Police as a manager of civilian staff in the eighties, and I would say that casual sexism was still a very big issue, right up to when I left in the early nineties. In terms of authenticity though, what were they doing giving a DI short skirts and off the shoulder numbers showing her bra strap without her causing a riot? Of course we were all wearing sexy clothes outside of work, but in the eighties women were still fighting to be taken seriously in senior roles and were having to dress and behave like men. Even as a newcomer, she would have found her job impossible with those clothes. A2A is set in 1981, but in 1986 when I joined, suits were the order of the day for any woman hoping to be taken seriously, and I was given a ticking off during my first few weeks for wearing a (very smart) trouser suit; 'Women in trousers are not acceptable in a serious work environment as they are too revealing', so I think they missed a trick there.

It has already been interesting in highlighting how far we haven't moved, particularly in being unwilling to give a woman the benefit of the doubt. In the chat forums I have popped into it has been instructive to see how many woman have been grumbling about Keeley Hawes who plays the new female DI. I don't buy the argument that we are so far post-feminist that sisterly support is outdated. When women are being criticised by other women in terms that they wouldn't dream of using for men, I get really depressed.

Apart from that though, I think that there are some very interesting points to be made, so I hope they don't spend too long faffing about in an empty nostalgia fest, or gazing adoringly at Gene Hunt.

Having said all that, who can remain po-faced about gender politics for too long when Gene Hunt appears round the corner in his Audi Quattro? Certainly not me - I was hanging on every one of the Guvner's nuggets of wisdom within minutes this week despite all my misgivings. And there is the problem in a nutshell.

Ah well, I will just have to try harder next week.

Hello Motto

2008-02-11T19:40:00.003Z

I hear that Britain is to have a motto to bring us together, pull as a team etc, something to symbolise what we have in common.* Seriously naff idea somehow, and surely the whole point of Britishness is that we are curmudgeonly old buggers who seriously resent doing anything so decidedly corporate. Judging by the sniggers from the Radio 4 news this evening, I'm not the only one with that view.

If we have to have a motto, my best suggestion so far is 'Never knowingly over-keen', but I am sure the better class of blog and tomorrow's papers will have much better ideas.

Update: My son's attempt is 'Britain: America's bitch'. I'm not sure what that says about the youth (or Britain) of today.

* Although I suspect that it has more to do with selling Britishness abroad.

You had to be there....

2008-02-09T14:44:00.003Z

Went to see Cyrano de Bergerac this week in rep at The Haymarket, Basingstoke, and thoroughly enjoyed it as usual, even though the theatre was really only half full. What is it about theatre that makes it such an intensely enjoyable experience? To see the same thing on screen, large or small might be nice, but not the same.

Stand up is similar, in that you can always double the effect on the audience actually present, so that what is quite enjoyable on the dvd, becomes gut-wrenchingly funny live. Why is that?

Suds on the Beach

2008-01-22T20:52:00.002Z

I met up with some old school friends at the Tate Modern this weekend. Great to see them, scary to see how little they have changed, even though I have known one of them for 40 years, and the other for over 30. What is it that makes lasting friends?

Annnnyyyywwwaayyy, had a good afternoon, walking the length of 'the crack', and reminiscing about people even though we couldn't remember their names. I still haven't got to grips with the rehang at Bankside, and miss some of favourites I used to visit - if anyone ever reads this and can tell me what the picture with the moving hairs was called, and who it was by, I will be very grateful, to the extent that I may even buy you a virtual drink.

I've also been watching some of the new season telly, and I'm hugely enjoying Moving Wallpaper, though I'm struggling a bit with the partner programme, Echo Beach, probably for all the same reasons that I don't usually watch any of the soaps. However, being the post-modern girl that I am, I'm a real sucker for the in-joke, and both parts of Moving Beach (or whatever!) are stacked with them, so I'm coming back for more so far.

I have far less excuse to love 'The Palace', but I do, with a passion. With huge suds and splashing about by those stock 'characters', by rights this should be awful, but it isn't. Engaging well acted leads, a plot that swishes you along too quickly to notice the threadbare bits, and lots of glossy corridor movement........*

* I've just realised this is West Wing syndrome, and once addicted, any old substitute will do. Well, I don't care, I'm going to make the most of it for now.

Reliability may be an issue

2008-01-13T08:30:00.002Z

Well I started with all good intentions, but it has taken me two weeks to come back for another look. You, dear reader, are probably beginning to get the measure of me.... promises not a lot, and that's probably what I will deliver. Still, at least we all know where we are now.

First of all, an addition to my previous post. I somehow forgot to mention the play Alex, with Robert Bathurst, which was a surprise pleasure. Having left the cartoon strip on which it is based behind when I left the eighties, and finding his characters in Cold Feet and My Dad is Prime Minister a bit nondescript, I didn't quite know what to expect, but Robert Bathurst blew me away. It was a one man show with all other characters remaining in their cartoon form, but interacting with the human Mr Bathurst. I have seen this sort of thing done before but never so proficiently and lacking in clunkiness. The show was extremely funny, and I came away very impressed. I see Robert Bathurst has been nominated for an award for this and very well deserved it is too.

Since my last post I have also been to see The Country Wife at The Haymarket. I went mainly as a social event, but was very pleasantly surprised. Toby Stephens was a triumph, and I was impressed with the production overall, which used largely 'traditional' dress, but with touches of modernity, like a knitted shrug over a ballgown, or jeans with a flouncy shirt and ostentatious coat. Maybe it was a bit too obvious in pointing out the modern themes in this restoration comedy, but it was still very effective. The set was very complicated, and a hitch led to a 20 minute impromptu interval whilst they resolved the situation, during which time I could feel the energy draining out of the auditorium, and left me time to wonder whether they really needed such complexity. My conclusion was that given the show off tendencies of restoration theatre, the flashy set probably added to our authentic experience.

Highlights included a posse of sex starved matrons led by Patricia Hodge eating grapes from Toby Steven's crotch, and everything about David Haig's performance as the cuckold, combining desperation, inadequacy, and a huge amount of physical effort, with a sweetness which undercut the dischordant notes where violence was threatened to his young,silly and libidinous wife. I read later that this was the first production for a new company formed for the theatre, and I will look with interest at their future work. (Well, that is what I say, but bearing in mind the title of this post, who knows.....)

Tis the traditional time....

2007-12-31T14:31:00.003Z

Now that the miasma of goodwill to all and sundry has started to subside, and we are all gearing up for the objective-setting flurry of new year, it seems the perfect time to give this blogging thing a go.

So, I will start in the traditional way, with a summary of 2007 according to Chatterbox. (This is highly coloured, of course, by the fact that I can only remember certain bits of it this morning, but hey, who's reading anyway....).

2007 started with a bit of a bang with the Green Wing Convention. I got roped in to help a bit, and ending up running the games with the lovely Jools. Many real friendships made on top of the (already pretty real) online ones. Online friendships continued apace, as I began helping Jools with her website, and we had a series of catch up events through the year. I joined myspace, got quickly baffled and so joined facebook instead, briefly leapt into the world of add on applications inviting me to 'superpoke' friends, throw sheep and join facebook pressure groups, then retreated to the cosier world of scrabulous and status updates where I remain today.

No review of the year would be complete without some cultural highlights, so lets see....

Books, I continued to wade my way through William Boyd's back catalogue, loving them all, but Restless just failed to knock Any Human Heart off my personal top-spot. Favourite book of the year was Atonement, which I only got around to this year when I realised the film was about to come out, and I wanted to be able to do the usual muttering about how the film isn't a patch on the book. 2007 was, of course, the year of the final Harry Potter, and despite getting heartily sick of the last couple of instalments, I thoroughly enjoyed it, particularly as it made sense of the casting of the great Alan Rickman as Snape in the films.

Theatre trips this year included at the National, Joe Penhall's latest offering Landscape with Weapon (which I saw seven times for reasons I may or may not reveal in the future), Joan of Arc (fantastic performance by Ann Marie Duff), Emperor Jones (the energy of Paterson Joseph left me breathless), Philistines (a bit underpowered), Caucasian Chalk Circle (excellent, with the rock chorus providing a great counterpoint to the blue rinse audience), Rafta, Rafta (gorgeous leading man and lots of belly laughs in the old fashioned sex farce mode, but stayed with me for days afterwards). At the Globe, Othello was a big highlight this year, with Iago played with gusto, but I have to say that I am starting to feel the loss of Mark Rylance and Liam Brennan as regulars in the company.

Other theatre...Boeing Boeing was a joyous revival of a sixties farce, with Mark Rylance as the country bumpkin, Frances de la Tour as the long suffering maid, and Michelle Gomez as the scary Cherman girlfriend - all performances wildly over the top, and all the funnier because of it. My theatre year ended with Spamalot, with Peter Davidson as a beautifully inept King Arthur. But I think overall, Elling at Trafalgar Studios is my best play this year, with a wonderfully thoughtful but intensely physical performance by John Simm , and perfect support by the rest of the very small cast...The wonder of watching Simm cast off his role at the end and return to himself to take the ovations still gives me goosebumps. It also had my favourite quote of 2007 ' Mother did all the shopping, I was in charge of ideology', so kudos to the translator/adaptor.

TV then... well the passing of West Wing is still leaving me grieving, as is the short life and premature death of Studio 60 at the Sunset Strip. Yes, both could be smug and self-satisfied, and cheesy in that peculiarly American way, but they were also sublime. I never got into Sopranos due to the scheduling, but one of my objectives for this year is to start at the beginning and work my way through. I loved Help and The Thick of It, and in 2007 wished that court cases could be made to vanish just so that I could keep looking forward to more. The Thick of It survived the loss of Chris Langham, but I can't see Help managing the same trick - it only worked because of Langham's particular lethargic energy balancing out the cleverness of Paul Whitehouse which might have become cloying. Life on Mars, Doctor Who and Torchwood were all stars of 2007, as was 'The Street', but there was little else that I couldn't live without.

Film was a bit so-so this year, but then I didn't seem to get to the cinema much, or even have time for DVDs. Bourne Ultimatum was perhaps the best action movie to date, but the third of the Pirates series was a bit of a washout, despite the eye-candy. I did love the look of Atonement, but wished for more time on the later parts of the story.... Joe Wright is becoming my director to watch though - his adaptations are very sensitively done, and beautiful to look at, so I think he is still likely to produce a masterpiece.

On the personal, front the kids have morphed into teenagers, but all still fine, amazingly.... Some hiccoughs toward the end of the year to do with inanimate objects breaking as soon as I get near them, (you know who you are, bathroom window, car door, loo seat, best plate, fridge, heel of favourite boots, elbow of favourite jumper....) but overall, I seem to be a happy bunny - how did that happen?

Hmmm, so that's my summary of the year - ended with all pets intact (almost unheard of), and with more friends at the end than at the beginning, so that is a bit of a result really.