When: Monday night
Where: Comedy Theatre, watching Birdsong
The lovely presenter of The Great British Bake Off was at the theatre on Monday night, watching Birdsong.
I spotted Mel in the queue for the always-confusing ladies at the Comedy Theatre (queues to left and right? Blind corners with more loos hiding behind them? Mirrors that make you look like death? They're all in there...)
Mel was looking punkier than her British Bake Off image, with spikier hair, and maybe sporting some leopard print?
Last time I saw her in a theatre, she was giving an absolutely stunning performance in EUROBEAT: Almost Eurovision! at the Novello Theatre. She was brrrrilliant.
Birdsong was less good. Much longer, far fewer laughs(!), and left me strangely lacking in emotion, despite being about one of the saddest things in the world: trench warfare and WWI. Read my Birdsong review here on londonist.
Image from an orange blog on GBBO
Thursday, 30 September 2010
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
Seeing Yes, Prime Minister with a Political Insider
It was always going to be interesting, seeing Yes, Prime Minister with someone who used to be an advisor to the guy who's just been made leader of the opposition. (Of course, we didn't know this at the time, but the little insights into the workings of a similar office still stand true.)
JC's first comment was that the set was pretty damn good. "That's just about the size Ed's office used to be," he whispered, before any action had even taken place. "In fact, looks pretty like it."
The second thing he spotted about the same time as me: that David Haig's (as PM Jim Hacker) suit and shoes just weren't right. It doesn't take experience of working in Whitehall to see when someone's costume just doesn't fit the part. A sloppy, ill-fitting, tired-looking suit, and some terrible "comfy" shoes will big, fat, rubbery soles don't scream, "look at me, I'm pushing the Presidential part of my powerful position as Prime Minister of the Britain and Northern Ireland..." It was off-putting.
My betrothed(!) was also quick to give kudos to Emily Joyce's portrayal of Special Advisor Claire. "She's got exactly the right levels of arrogance and ohgodidontknowwhatimdoing for a SPAD," was JC's assessment.
But the main thing that got to JC was that it just hadn't been updated enough for his liking. Just adding references to Blackberrys and the like doesn't suddenly make a show zeitgeisty. Today, people like Sir Humphrey, far from being completely disinterested in what the electorate might want or think (as portrayed in the 80s by the TV show) are now obsessed with it, according to JC. Sure, to reinvent a character would've perhaps been beyond the desires of the audience, but it would've been nice if there was one voice onstage showing a more modern approach to taking the temperature of the people as a whole, through twitter or facebook or whatever. (But any reference to tweets or, dare I say, pokes would've been missed by the majority of the properly ancient audience on the night we saw the show...)
Which leads me to one final point on this funny but flawed play.
There was an excellent example of what I'm going to start referring to as "satire fail" on the night when we were there. You might remember me questioning the weird, I felt, inappropriate laughter at The Little Dog Laughed back in January. There was a similar incident in Yes, Prime Minister. I'm not 100% sure I can remember what the line was exactly, but it was after something about the Freedom of Information act being a bad thing, uttered by a character we should, of course, not be sympathising with. It was a piece of satire. Cue gales of agreement-based Toff laughter from the back, which can't help but leave a bit of a sour taste in your mouth. "No!" I find myself wanting to shout, "It's not funny like that. You shouldn't be laughing. Unless you agree with what's just been said. In which case, I don't like being in an audience with you..."
Satire fail, see?
Read my review of Yes Prime Minister on londonist here, or check out my Your Views piece on the Visit London Blog
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
Arts Ahead 28 September to 4 October
October's here! The month of birthdays, Halloween, Harvest and the rest of it.
For London, October is a continuation of September's festival frenzy. Film festivals, Black History Month, Story of London, the Restaurant Festival, a Gaming Festival, and Big Draw for starters...
But I'm getting ahead of myself. There's still a couple of days left in September, and they're all about big blockbuster art exhibitions from Gauguin and Anish Kapoor. Two I quite fancy seeing, in fact.
Read the rest of this week's Arts Ahead suggestions here on londonist
Labels:
anish kapoor,
art,
arts ahead,
gauguin,
londonist,
october,
september
Friday, 24 September 2010
Michael Crawford's Going to Be The Wizard, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz!
This is exciting news. If you grew up watching Mr Crawford in Hello, Dolly at your Grandpa's house like I did, you'll have a soft spot for the performer.
My sister and I also saw him in The Woman in White, but didn't realise it was him underneath the fat suit and the accent until about half-way through.
The Wizard isn't the largest part of all time, but this casting certainly suggests Lord Webber's not holding back when it comes to populating his Oz. Can't wait to find out who the Tin Man, the Lion and the Scarecrow are...
Photo by Gabrielle Crawford, showing Andrew Lloyd Webber, Danielle Hope (Dorothy) and Michael Crawford (The Wizard).
My sister and I also saw him in The Woman in White, but didn't realise it was him underneath the fat suit and the accent until about half-way through.
The Wizard isn't the largest part of all time, but this casting certainly suggests Lord Webber's not holding back when it comes to populating his Oz. Can't wait to find out who the Tin Man, the Lion and the Scarecrow are...
Photo by Gabrielle Crawford, showing Andrew Lloyd Webber, Danielle Hope (Dorothy) and Michael Crawford (The Wizard).
In Which I Tentatively Mention Christmas for the First Time This Year
We have to be careful with our first mention of the C word at work.
People can get very upset if you start talking about the festive period too soon.
And I have to say, I'm fairly sure mid-late September *is* too soon.
But if you're a theatre show, and you've been in negotiations and rehearsals for a while, and are now looking to start selling tickets for your big seasonal show, there comes a point when you need to start shouting about it. Otherwise, no one's going to know you're putting on a panto!
People can get very upset if you start talking about the festive period too soon.
And I have to say, I'm fairly sure mid-late September *is* too soon.
But if you're a theatre show, and you've been in negotiations and rehearsals for a while, and are now looking to start selling tickets for your big seasonal show, there comes a point when you need to start shouting about it. Otherwise, no one's going to know you're putting on a panto!
So here's this week's Theatre News, with references to London's Little Opera House, an exciting new musical, and those Christmassy showsI'm loving the news about the Pet Shop Boys working on My Dad's A Birdman at the Young Vic. It sounds brilliant, and I can imagine it'll be a show that can, ahem, fly for many years to come.
Thursday, 23 September 2010
Spotted: Tim McMullan
When: Saturday night
Where: Novello Theatre
I'm always pleased to see actors in a theatre. Particularly when its not press night, and they're clearly there because they love what they do.
Tim McMullan, who I've seen playing the melancholy Jaques at The Globe and in Martin Crimp's The Misanthrope in the last couple of years, was in the row in front of us at the Novello on Saturday. We were seeing A Disappearing Number. (More on that to follow, I hope.)
Tim looked brilliantly unstarry. Jeans, converse trainers, and a nicely dishevelled lineny jacket. I'm guessing he was there with his wife or girlfriend, and they made a cool-looking couple.
Hope they enjoyed the show as much as me.
Where: Novello Theatre
I'm always pleased to see actors in a theatre. Particularly when its not press night, and they're clearly there because they love what they do.
Tim McMullan, who I've seen playing the melancholy Jaques at The Globe and in Martin Crimp's The Misanthrope in the last couple of years, was in the row in front of us at the Novello on Saturday. We were seeing A Disappearing Number. (More on that to follow, I hope.)
Tim looked brilliantly unstarry. Jeans, converse trainers, and a nicely dishevelled lineny jacket. I'm guessing he was there with his wife or girlfriend, and they made a cool-looking couple.
Hope they enjoyed the show as much as me.
Tuesday, 21 September 2010
Interview with Henry Goodman
Photo shows Henry Goodman in Duet for One at the Almeida Theatre. By Bridget Jones
Henry Goodman is one of those actors whose faces you know, but whose names you don't.
I was lucky enough to interview him recently for work. It was over the phone, so I can't really say I've met him. However, he was pretty much charming, as well as worried he hadn't prepared, happily ready to giggle when he'd got a good answer for me, and finally, the victim of distraction.
There are so many fascinating things about carrying out interviews. (I don't think I'll ever get bored of it.)
The more you do, the more you learn, of course. This time's lesson was never, ever say "One last question...". By the time I'd finished my flawed final intro, his attention was gone, and the answer he gave was rambling and useless. Lesson learnt.
My previous lesson was to do as much research as you possibly can. (Yes, yes, I know. I should know this already.) Speaking to Jenna Russell, she told me about her husband being in Women Beware Women at the National, a show I'd seen. But I totally didn't know she was married to one of the leads: Raymond Coulthard. Oops.
So, I read and read and read about Henry. For once, I felt completely sure I'd done enough research to handle anything that came up in the interview. Ask me something about this Mr Goodman now, chances are I'll know the answer.
Was I able to talk to him about being a twin? Being born on Shakespeare's birthday? Being fired from a Broadway show? Whether his schizophrenic father had influenced his career choice? If his friendship with Imelda Staunton is as strong as it was last year? If he felt with this latest role has enhanced or lessened his feelings about being typecast as a Jew?
Nope, but that's the funny thing about the way we interview at work. The "My London" question formats are pretty much grown-up Smash Hits, to be honest. Favourites. Best. Most, etc. Sometimes I think I might as well be asking which is their fave member of Take That...
But I'm not saying that's a bad thing. Chances are Henry Goodman's been asked about his Jewishness before. And his twin. And his father.
Instead, I get the chance to get a giggle out of him while he's trying to explain his love for a yachting shop in Covent Garden. And when questions like that work, they're so much more satisfying. In this media-trained or, at least, media-savvy world, a slightly less common question can be nicely revealing of a real person behind the carefully presented persona.
Here's another picture of him looking a bit less serious as Sir Humphrey in Yes Prime Minister. Picture by Manuel Harlan
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
Arts Ahead 14 to 20 September on londonist
Great picture, right?
I'm still desperate to see another Matthew Bourne ballet after completely loving his Nutcracker! at the New Wimbledon Theatre a couple of Christmasses ago. That time, we were lucky enough to hear a Q&A with the man himself. Despite a few years of chasing, I've never been able to secure an interview with him for Visit London... Maybe one day...
Anyway, that's only the tutu on the top of what's happening in London this week. It's a packed one, and I've got two shows to look forward to.
Maaan, I hope A Disappearing Number is good. There's so much hype about this show. And you know how I can sometimes react to hype. Fingers crossed for me, everyone.
I'm still desperate to see another Matthew Bourne ballet after completely loving his Nutcracker! at the New Wimbledon Theatre a couple of Christmasses ago. That time, we were lucky enough to hear a Q&A with the man himself. Despite a few years of chasing, I've never been able to secure an interview with him for Visit London... Maybe one day...
Anyway, that's only the tutu on the top of what's happening in London this week. It's a packed one, and I've got two shows to look forward to.
- Complicite's A Disappearing Number with the in-laws-to-be (heh!)
- AND Design for Living with Moriarty at the Old Vic
Maaan, I hope A Disappearing Number is good. There's so much hype about this show. And you know how I can sometimes react to hype. Fingers crossed for me, everyone.
Read the rest of this week's Arts Ahead on londonist
Monday, 13 September 2010
Dulwich Park, or Why I Love South East London
It's rather pleasing that, while it takes me 30 minutes to get to work in busy ol' London Bridge from my front door of a morning, another 30 minutes' walk in another direction offers me the chance to take photos like this.
Dulwich Park, to the soundtrack of Wicked, really soothed my insomnia/hangover headache yesterday.
Hurrah for home. Hurrah for Peckham Rye.
Friday, 10 September 2010
The World in One City: Philippe Sibelly's Photography Project
"Where are you from?" is a question photographer Philippe Sibelly has pondered a lot. Born in Marseilles, Philippe has travelled widely, living in Sydney and Ireland before settling in London.
And it's London's multiculturalism that inspired his World in One City challenge. In 2005, in the run-up to the Singapore announcement that London would host the 2012 Olympic Games, Philippe decided to capture that multiculturalism in a photography project.
A year and a half later, Philippe had a set of 202 photographs, representing each of the countries taking part in the Olympic Games at the time. (Now there are 205). The photos are all is currently on display in Rich Mix in East London. In each Polaroid picture, the subject is holding the previous photo, creating a chain, Philippe explains, like the Olympic flame. In view of our own current World in London blog project, I felt I had to go and meet him.
Philippe turned out to be a fascinating subject to interview. I was restricted by word-length on my work blog, but I'd like to give a fuller picture here. Be warned: it's a long one. If you'd rather read less: read this.
I feel like Philippe's the sort of character that should be being written about in a weekend colour supplement, and left the interview full of ideas to pitch his story around. But at the same time, I know the drill. Is it current? No. Is it unique? Not really. Are the pictures high res? Probably not. Too many barriers, and I have a full-time job and a full-time hobby that'll mean I'm unlikely to have a straightforward time if I start pitching things half-heartedly...
Anyhoo, here's a few of the things we talked about.
"At the start [of the photography project], it was really easy," Philippe says. "I thought, 'I know people from pretty much everywhere.' I tried doing things to challenge people's perceptions. Karim from Peru, the fourth guy, is a refugee from Palestine. So he doesn't look like he's from Peru. But he is. And in the next photo, he's being held by an Israeli, Maya."
"But it became more and more difficult. It started taking so long. I spent hours on email, organising with friends, travelling around the city to meet people from different places. To New Malden to find someone from South Korea. To Woolwich to meet someone from Africa..."
"Some days, I'd travel around and only take one or two photos. It was really, really frustrating."
As well as meeting friends of friends and colleagues, Philippe says he also stopped people in the street to ask where they were from, and encourage them to join the challenge. "Very few people got annoyed," he says. "Really, despite what people say, Londoners are very open. It may be because I'm a foreigner myself, but people were open to taking part."
"Apart from people from Qatar. People from Qatar just didn't want to be photographed. I don't know why. I found one eventually." Ali from Qatar is in traditional dress, something you can spot in other photos: Karma from Bhutan wanted to be photographed in a colourful Bhutanese shirt, and Mario from Croatia in a traditional hat.
Looking through the chain of photos is fascinating. Despite the relative simplicity of the shots, there seems to be so much in each of these pictures. The little slices of London behind each subject are almost as interesting as the people themselves. Philippe seems to remember all of them, and recounts many anecdotes that stand out for him.
About Jonas, a monk from the Solomon Islands; Fredi from Mali, a footballer who played for Tottenham and West Ham; how top chef Giorgio Locatelli wanted to represent Italy, and about Magdalena from Serbia Montenegro.
Magdalena presents what Philippe finds is an interesting question. In his project, she represents a country that no longer exists. Where does she say she's "from" now? The slightly artificial construct of nationality fascinates Philippe. The boys he photographed to represent Haiti (Adam) and Pakistan (Zishaan) have never actually been to those countries. "But Adam said it would make his mother, who's from Haiti, very proud. And Zishaan, well, he thinks of himself as fully English and fully Pakistani. He said to me, 'How can I be half and half? I'm both.' I find that strong sense of nationalism, from people who've never even been to the country they say they're from, very strange."
I asked him about his young kids: part Irish, part French, living in England. "You're right. I mean, who are they going to play for, if they're sporty? If they play football?! Maybe France..." he says with a wink. Maybe they'll play cricket, I suggest. He laughs, "That would be great. I'm a cricket lover myself."
Philippe strikes me as very much an Anglophile. Or perhaps a Londonphile. We should be prouder of our food, he suggests. We're looking after our "borrobikes" better than the French. We're more open than other nationalities.
"There's something interesting in the way people respond to the photos. Londoners, you tell them someone's from Peru, but they look like a Palestinian, they're fine with that. Many other nationalities look at the pictures and they say, suspicious, he doesn't look like me, he can't be from my country. Well, how do you know? Londoners are more open to seeing difference [and accepting it]."
Of the whole list of Olympic nations (a list he chose because it's fairly neutral), Philippe only struggled to find people from about five. "For these five nations I chose someone linked in some way to this place: someone who has lived there, has family there, or even, in the case of Nauru, I settled for someone who knew where it was."
He's got one little niggle. For some reason, Philippe is confused by Darius from Tajikistan. It's almost like he can't put his finger on it, but he doubts that this one subject was telling the truth. Other people from Tajikistan have suggested this guy doesn't quite fit too. While in other cases, Philippe was pleased to challenge people's preconceptions of what different nationalities look like, there's something about this photo that stops him.
In many ways, its a classic example of everything to do with multiculturalism. Fantastic, fascinating, enriching and exciting, yes, but there's always a certain point where all that positivity stops, and something else steps in. In this case, a shrug and a slight suspicion that everything's not as crystal clear as you thought it was. And an acceptance that there will always be unknowns.
Philippe has mixed views on the complex issue of multiculturalism. "Diversity is great, but you can't be too romantic about it. It's not always a positive thing for everyone. When your local shop stops selling your sausages and starts selling samosas, it can be difficult for people to get used to.
"Europeans have lots to learn from other peoples. In the African communities, there's fantastic family cohesion: they eat all together, there's no TV, there's a real sense of respect for family members.
"The fact is, with modern developments, the world has changed. It's so easy to travel now. And communications are so much better with email and Skype. You can leave London in the morning, and be in Bulgaria by mid-afternoon. Travelling to Bulgaria now is like travelling to Guildford used to be!
"The best people can do is live with it, and get the positives out of it. Take the good."
You can see Philippe's World In One City photographs at Rich Mix, or online here.
Thursday, 9 September 2010
Deathtrap: Disappointing Despite Jonathan Groff
I'm so glad I posted that video yesterday. It makes last night's disappointment all the more, well, explainable, really.
You can read my review of Deathtrap here on londonist. But as you can guess, I've got a few more things to add...
Now, first up, I've nothing but praise for most of the cast in last night's performance of Deathtrap. Simon Russell Beale was suitably awesome (reminded me of MH, which is unexpected and quite funny); Jesse St James, sorry, I mean Jonathan Groff filled Cliff's boots perfectly; and Claire Skinner was just great as a fragile 70s housewife. (Estelle Parsons wasn't good, but then her part was a complete mess, so you can't really blame her.)
My quibbles, however, are many. And are mainly with the play, and the way it's been promoted over the last few months. Deathtrap the play is just SO FAR from that "theatrical trailer", I was almost convinced I was in the wrong theatre. Once again, like that Judi Dench Midsummer Night's Dream, the gulf between my expectations and the reality as it happened on stage before me has put me in a terrible mood. I was expecting something epic, filmic, inventive, modern and moody. I was waiting to feel Six-Characters levels of awestruck and breathless again.
Instead, the word that wouldn't leave my head was "kitsch". Now, watch that youtube clip from yesterday, and tell me how far from kitsch it feels.
As well as that, it was baggy and slow at times; obvious in its "get ready to jump" set-ups at others; it was smarmy and smug; and it was old-fashioned - and not in a good way.
There's also a teeth-clenchingly rubbish repeat of what's just happened at the end, with an awkward voice-over that made me feel like I was being treated like an idiot. And there's some problems with the sound; something like an echo whenever Estelle speaks in her not-that-funny accent that really should've been sorted out.
And then, my main quibble: now, I love a bit of self-reference in a play. Any sideways, knowing nodding to the audience generally sends a shiver up my spine. If there's a moment of metadrama to be found in a play, I'll be there, enjoying that particular practice of pointing at theatre through theatre. (Shakespeare does it; Stoppard does it; Six Characters blew me away with it: I'm a fan.)
But with Deathtrap, there was just TOO much. And it was the worst kind of nodding too: one with a big West End theatrey hat on. An expensive, exclusive-in-the-negative-sense (err, non-inclusive?) elitist hat. The kind that says "this is a plaay", with a long, Stewie Griffin style "aay". A witty plaay, that takes place in a thee-ater. The kind that says aren't we funny, we're sending up a sacred artform here, naughty, naughty us.
It's the kind of theatre that puts people off theatre. In many ways, the worst kind.
Perhaps I'm coming across as overly negative. I have to say, I had a pretty bad overall theatrey experience that evening (the lovely ET excepted). Uncomfy seats, coughing and whispering all around, a tall guy in front obscuring half the stage, and being plonked back in Row Q does not a happy critic make.
The funny thing is, I agree with almost all the positive points other reviewers have made. I nodded through those WEW boys - I concur with everything they've said here. But maybe while they liked those things, I didn't.
I can't help thinking I've been left feeling short-changed after watching that damn trailer and, once again, by believing the hype.
You can read my review of Deathtrap here on londonist. But as you can guess, I've got a few more things to add...
Now, first up, I've nothing but praise for most of the cast in last night's performance of Deathtrap. Simon Russell Beale was suitably awesome (reminded me of MH, which is unexpected and quite funny); Jesse St James, sorry, I mean Jonathan Groff filled Cliff's boots perfectly; and Claire Skinner was just great as a fragile 70s housewife. (Estelle Parsons wasn't good, but then her part was a complete mess, so you can't really blame her.)
My quibbles, however, are many. And are mainly with the play, and the way it's been promoted over the last few months. Deathtrap the play is just SO FAR from that "theatrical trailer", I was almost convinced I was in the wrong theatre. Once again, like that Judi Dench Midsummer Night's Dream, the gulf between my expectations and the reality as it happened on stage before me has put me in a terrible mood. I was expecting something epic, filmic, inventive, modern and moody. I was waiting to feel Six-Characters levels of awestruck and breathless again.
Instead, the word that wouldn't leave my head was "kitsch". Now, watch that youtube clip from yesterday, and tell me how far from kitsch it feels.
As well as that, it was baggy and slow at times; obvious in its "get ready to jump" set-ups at others; it was smarmy and smug; and it was old-fashioned - and not in a good way.
There's also a teeth-clenchingly rubbish repeat of what's just happened at the end, with an awkward voice-over that made me feel like I was being treated like an idiot. And there's some problems with the sound; something like an echo whenever Estelle speaks in her not-that-funny accent that really should've been sorted out.
And then, my main quibble: now, I love a bit of self-reference in a play. Any sideways, knowing nodding to the audience generally sends a shiver up my spine. If there's a moment of metadrama to be found in a play, I'll be there, enjoying that particular practice of pointing at theatre through theatre. (Shakespeare does it; Stoppard does it; Six Characters blew me away with it: I'm a fan.)
But with Deathtrap, there was just TOO much. And it was the worst kind of nodding too: one with a big West End theatrey hat on. An expensive, exclusive-in-the-negative-sense (err, non-inclusive?) elitist hat. The kind that says "this is a plaay", with a long, Stewie Griffin style "aay". A witty plaay, that takes place in a thee-ater. The kind that says aren't we funny, we're sending up a sacred artform here, naughty, naughty us.
It's the kind of theatre that puts people off theatre. In many ways, the worst kind.
Perhaps I'm coming across as overly negative. I have to say, I had a pretty bad overall theatrey experience that evening (the lovely ET excepted). Uncomfy seats, coughing and whispering all around, a tall guy in front obscuring half the stage, and being plonked back in Row Q does not a happy critic make.
The funny thing is, I agree with almost all the positive points other reviewers have made. I nodded through those WEW boys - I concur with everything they've said here. But maybe while they liked those things, I didn't.
I can't help thinking I've been left feeling short-changed after watching that damn trailer and, once again, by believing the hype.
Wednesday, 8 September 2010
Theatrical Excitement: Deathtrap, Complicite, Design for Living
Oh, what a September it's lining up to be, theatre-wise.
I have to say, I'm super-excited about the theatre I'm going to see this month. It really cures any end-of-the-summer blues that might otherwise threaten.
First up, tonight, is Deathtrap. I've just watched this trailer again at work, and I really am so excited about seeing this play. Let's look at the tick list: first chance to see Simon Russell Beale live: check. Someone from Glee: check. Actress from the TV you really admire: check. A tantalising-sounding plot: check. A chance to give a great friend a cool birthday present: check. Bring it on!
Then, later in the month, I'm going to see A Disappearing Number with JC and his parents. His dad's a retired Maths teacher, so I'm hoping this combo of theatre and numbers is going to go down well as a birthday present.
And finally (for now) it's off to the Old Vic to see Moriarty in Design for Living by Noel Coward.
I'm a very, very lucky person.
I have to say, I'm super-excited about the theatre I'm going to see this month. It really cures any end-of-the-summer blues that might otherwise threaten.
First up, tonight, is Deathtrap. I've just watched this trailer again at work, and I really am so excited about seeing this play. Let's look at the tick list: first chance to see Simon Russell Beale live: check. Someone from Glee: check. Actress from the TV you really admire: check. A tantalising-sounding plot: check. A chance to give a great friend a cool birthday present: check. Bring it on!
Then, later in the month, I'm going to see A Disappearing Number with JC and his parents. His dad's a retired Maths teacher, so I'm hoping this combo of theatre and numbers is going to go down well as a birthday present.
And finally (for now) it's off to the Old Vic to see Moriarty in Design for Living by Noel Coward.
I'm a very, very lucky person.
Tuesday, 7 September 2010
Arts Ahead 7 to 13 September from londonist
I don't quite know what to think about Shoes at Sadler's Wells.
It sounded completely brilliant in its initial blurb, and then I saw a video of the show with various people singing and it rather put me off. Still, the pictures are fab, and that's why its my top pick this week. I'm looking forward to reading reviews of it tomorrow...
In the rest of this week's cultural occurences, the most exciting thing is that I'm going to see Deathtrap tomorrow with the lovely Groff-fancier, ET. I'm really looking forward to it. And desperately trying to avoid reading any reviews of it before I see it. (Damn those "second press night" tickets.)
I've also made a rare decision to turn down tickets to Bedlam at The Globe for Thursday. Sometimes there's just too much going on, and not enough vitamins in one's bloodstream. I can't help thinking that the combination of last weekend's wedding, next weekend's Go Apeing and a damp night out at the Globe in between might just scupper any "staying healthy for September" plans I might've had. I'm slightly gutted, as it means it kills any Full House ideas I had to see everything the Globe offers in one season, AND there's the small issue of it being the first play by A WOMAN ("That woman is.. a WOMAN!" etc - Shakespeare in Love) at the Globe, but sometimes your health has to come first.
Read the rest of what's coming up this week on my londonist Arts Ahead column
Friday, 3 September 2010
Theatre News: James Corden, Ruthie Henshall, Denise Van Outen and more
Lots of nice celebs in the news for Londony theatrey things this week.
Of course, I can't say I know any of them personally, but I get the impression that this lot are just a nice bunch.
So we get:
Of course, I can't say I know any of them personally, but I get the impression that this lot are just a nice bunch.
So we get:
- James Corden back at the National Theatre
- Denise Van Outen back in musicals
- Ruthie Henshall back in the West End
Read the rest of this week's theatre news on the Visit London Blog.
Wednesday, 1 September 2010
Spotted: Lisa Smosarski
When: earlier this evening
Where: Tom's Kitchen, Somerset House
Yes, I'm sure there were more famous faces at the launch of Tom Aikens' new restaurant, Tom's Kitchen at Somerset House this evening.
But the only one I spotted was Lisa Smosarski, editor of Stylist magazine, and one-time drinker of tea made by yours truly at Smash Hits magazine.
It was green tea. I don't think I made much of an impression. I think I might've told her I thought green tea tasted of pond water. She was one of those nodding, smiling, indulging-the-crazies people when it came to workies. And I was one of those keep talking, keep smiling harder, force-them-to-remember-how-great-you-are-to-the-point-of-crazy workies. Not a great pairing, I'm sure.
As I said, there were probably far bigger names at the launch this evening, but I wasn't in any position to spot them. Sadly, JC had a going-to-be-sick fainty moment after about three mouthfuls of his gazpacho, and so we had to leave and get an emergency cab back to Peckham and the chance to be perpendicular.
So it seems I've still, after four years, not really engaged in those free new restaurant taster meals other people who work for VL have. It's probably just as well. I just don't think food writing is my bag.
For me, food is fuel or facilitator. You're either just eating it cos you're hungry, and if you don't you'll probably faint (ohhh...) or you're out for dinner with someone getting around the fuel thing cos you actually want to talk to them about something, or needed an excuse to invite them round to yours for more than just a chat.
Hey ho. There'll be other celebs, other invites and other Michelin-starred restaurants. There aren't any other boys I need to look after in quite the same way as JC.
Image of the super-pretty Lisa from the Press Gazette
Where: Tom's Kitchen, Somerset House
Yes, I'm sure there were more famous faces at the launch of Tom Aikens' new restaurant, Tom's Kitchen at Somerset House this evening.
But the only one I spotted was Lisa Smosarski, editor of Stylist magazine, and one-time drinker of tea made by yours truly at Smash Hits magazine.
It was green tea. I don't think I made much of an impression. I think I might've told her I thought green tea tasted of pond water. She was one of those nodding, smiling, indulging-the-crazies people when it came to workies. And I was one of those keep talking, keep smiling harder, force-them-to-remember-how-great-you-are-to-the-point-of-crazy workies. Not a great pairing, I'm sure.
As I said, there were probably far bigger names at the launch this evening, but I wasn't in any position to spot them. Sadly, JC had a going-to-be-sick fainty moment after about three mouthfuls of his gazpacho, and so we had to leave and get an emergency cab back to Peckham and the chance to be perpendicular.
So it seems I've still, after four years, not really engaged in those free new restaurant taster meals other people who work for VL have. It's probably just as well. I just don't think food writing is my bag.
For me, food is fuel or facilitator. You're either just eating it cos you're hungry, and if you don't you'll probably faint (ohhh...) or you're out for dinner with someone getting around the fuel thing cos you actually want to talk to them about something, or needed an excuse to invite them round to yours for more than just a chat.
Hey ho. There'll be other celebs, other invites and other Michelin-starred restaurants. There aren't any other boys I need to look after in quite the same way as JC.
Image of the super-pretty Lisa from the Press Gazette
Arts Ahead 31 August - 6 September from londonist
It's September at last!
And that means stuff is finally starting to HAPPEN again.
Much as I love-love-love the summer, there's something quite stultifying about August in London. The more the month wears on, the more it becomes apparant that nothing new is really happening, and everyone's just trying to relax while they're cranking slowly up the rollercoaster readying themselves, inch by inch, click by click for the incredible drop, the sideways spin, the whoosh and the zoom of a September stuffed with new and exciting things to do. And a stomach-churning feeling that doesn't really stop until you get to Christmas.
It's a bit like Sunday Night Syndrome, only it lasts for about half a month. Not good.
So, happily, we survived, and while this week, it's mainly about how many big West End shows are closing (how many? Seriously, it's about 20!) while the theatres ready themselves for the Next. Big. Thing.
Unless you're the Royal Court. In which case, you have the next big thing already.
And that means stuff is finally starting to HAPPEN again.
Much as I love-love-love the summer, there's something quite stultifying about August in London. The more the month wears on, the more it becomes apparant that nothing new is really happening, and everyone's just trying to relax while they're cranking slowly up the rollercoaster readying themselves, inch by inch, click by click for the incredible drop, the sideways spin, the whoosh and the zoom of a September stuffed with new and exciting things to do. And a stomach-churning feeling that doesn't really stop until you get to Christmas.
It's a bit like Sunday Night Syndrome, only it lasts for about half a month. Not good.
So, happily, we survived, and while this week, it's mainly about how many big West End shows are closing (how many? Seriously, it's about 20!) while the theatres ready themselves for the Next. Big. Thing.
Unless you're the Royal Court. In which case, you have the next big thing already.
Read the rest of Arts Ahead on londonist
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)