Spotted: Mel Giedroyc

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

Absenteeism

Disappointing, I know.

Where the hell have I been all this time? Is this blog even still going?

Well, between work and londonist, and lots of other things, sadly writing stuff for Culture and the City has really slipped.

JC turned 30; I turned 30. The world and his wife celebrated birthdays (and not just people: even londonist was due a 5-candled birthday cake and some binge-drinking - can you make candle a verb?? I'm getting all inventive after seeing The Spanish Tragedy on Tues, where a characted "dewed" someone in his tears - beautiful language, our Kyd...) After the wedding-filled summer, it seems September and October are now full of more reasons to dress up and see friends. NOT that I'm complaining. Seeing people more is one of my old-age resolutions. Hence a dinner party planned for Monday night, and another for the first week in November.

Since my excitement over An Inspector Calls (totally right to get enthusiastic about this - it was aces), I've seen a disappointing George Dawes in Prick Up Your Ears (followed by the poor fellow pulling out after his ex-husband killed himself... sad story), and been thoroughly pissed off by an entire evening at the Greenwich Theatre, seeing an averrrage School for Scandal. Here's what didn't make it into my review:

But perhaps Mr Billington, unlike us, doesn't venture down to Greenwich Theatre. If he did, he'd've witnessed several people getting mixed up with their tickets (the same seats having been sold to a number of people); our own tickets failed to exist - we were given one in row N, two empty rows separating us from the rest of the audience. Mr Billington could've been greeted into the auditorium by the most unenthusiastic staff in the world. It was cold back in row N. Mr B would've heard our neighbour continuing to send text messages throughout the first scene on a beeping blackberry, before leaving the theatre altogether halfway through the first half; Mr B could've taken advantage an over-indulgent half-hour interval, despite the actors being on stage and ready, presumably to make sure the cold audience could all be served a cup of hot water with a teabag floating in it (£2.50) by the slow, sulky staff; Mr B would've also been able to hear the stage directions coming across loud and clear in a dad-style stage whisper (pun intended) from the lighting box OVER the cast on stage.

Not a good show. I could barely concentrate on what was going on on stage, the whole surrounding "stuff" was so distracting.

I took a week off from going to the theatre after that.

Happily, Tuesday's Spanish Tragedy was very, very cool. I liked the Arcola, it was lovely going with Lindsey Londonist, the play was fantastic, the direction had hints of Goold (mad, bad, blood-coloured hints), and all the staff were really good. Was it simply because I was close enough to smell them?? Maybe a contributing factor, but there was so much good about this, it's hard to put it all into words. And over all the good things, a sprinkling of magic that means you can't quite put your finger on why it was you enjoyed it so much. You just do.

Inventive: that's all I want. Something that makes me smile, and think, "That's clever." Whether its a line of script, a piece of costume, a strain of music, some cool way of staging a scene. Something surprising and intelligent. Like my friends and the people that I admire.

Review: Sunset Boulevard at the Comedy Theatre

Seen any Andrew Lloyd Webber this year? And I'm not talking about watching the Lord spout his meaningless witterings about "raising your game" and "going on a musical journey" on some Saturday night TV show.

I'm talking about bona fide, spine tingling, heart-string tugging clichéd-but-we-love-it musicals that seem to hit the right note (pun intended), every.single.time.

If you don't have the ALW gene, the one that makes your eyes well up when the two doomed leads start singing that octave-separated duet, the one that increases your heart beat when you hear that flute solo, the one that roots for that unwitting, innocent outsider pulled into an odd gothic entanglement (The Woman in White, The Phantom of the Opera, Sunset Boulevard), don't worry. But, well, I'm sorry: this might not be the show (or even the review) for you.

Sunset Boulevard is the Tony Award-winning 1990s musical of the 1950 film of the same name. It tells the story of a tragic relationship between an old silent movie star, Norman Desmond ("the greatest star of all", played here by Kathryn Evans), and a young writer called Joe Gillis (Ben Goddard). This reworked version, directed by Strictly Come Dancing's Craig Revel-Horwood, is greatly paired-down from the blockbuster it became, and features a cast of actor-musicians.

Like Avenue Q, there's a moment at the start of this Sunset Boulevard where you have to enter into a contract with the people on stage. In AQ, you agree to accept the puppets. Here, it's about the instruments. Yes, they're going to be playing their instruments on stage, in view, while dancing, while acting; in some cases, while having a conversation. Pretty much throughout. And yes, you have to go with it.

In fact the result, as well as being in awe of the incredible talent on stage, is an interesting one. While playing and watching in the sidelines, the musicians add another kind of participatory, voyeuristic audience to a play which is very much about playing, theatre, being on show, celebrity and audience.

The two leads are fantastic. Crazy self-obsessed old bat Norma Desmond is a dream role for any actress (Glenn Close, Elaine Paige and Petula Clark have all played her). Kathryn Evans' gorgeous full-bodied voice suits the big show-stopping songs perfectly. She also brings a desperate lonely physicality to the role –those long fingers, that long neck, those long eyelashes – that makes her more than a match for Ben Goddard's big-statured Joe.

Goddard shines as Joe, too. It helps that he's rather gorgeous, as well as being a likeable, troubled rake. I didn't mind watching Ben being stripped down to the pants of his writer's clothes and trussed up in tails at all. Joe's as enamoured with fame and celebrity as he is disgusted by it; this duplicity comes through particularly nicely in the rousing title song which Goddard totally nailed after the interval.

The rest of the cast are also ace. Kudos must go to Laura Pitt-Pulford making her West End debut as Betty, who not only manages to play the flute while "sunbathing" lying down, but also manages to get herself upright, gracefully, seamlessly without a break in playing. The girl's got stomach muscles.

Norma and Joe's wonderful New Year's Eve tango was a particular highlight; which is to be expected from a show directed by Revel-Horwood.

Tellingly, for a show about a writer, it has some lovely one-liners, some nice cheeky quips, some excellent turns of phrase and rhyme in the lyrics and the script. That's lyricist Don Black for you. He's the chap behind Born Free, a handful of Bond themes, and lots of other top notch classics. And here he's paired with Christopher (Atonement, Dangerous Liaisons, The Quiet American) Hampton. Here's a fantastic profile of Mr Hampton.

There are less successful moments. I didn't love the awkward, over-long car chase. The full-cast numbers occasionally felt a little clunky on the Comedy Theatre's stage. (Is it too small? Were we sitting too close – for once – and too on one side to appreciate the blocking?) And Ben Goddard occasionally needs to relax his (lovely, big, musical-instrument caressing) hands when he's singing.

But these are minor quibbles in a fantastic, magical piece of musical theatre, which really lived up to my expectations.

Take anyone under 18, whose New Year's resolution is likely to be to give up whichever musical instrument they currently hate practising because it's uncool. And anyone of any age with a pure and simple interest in theatre craft, and everything (clever props, gorgeous costumes, great sound and lighting) that goes into creating the magic of a show. And of course, this is must-see fodder for everyone with that secret ALW gene. Go, believe the illusion, and be taught "new ways to dream".

Sunset Boulevard is playing at London's Comedy Theatre until 18 April. Photo of the two leads tangoing is by Robert Day.

Musical Excitement: Sunset Boulevard

How stunning is this picture?!

I've been interested in Sunset Boulevard since listening to Elaine Paige singing (the grammatical awkwardness of) As If We Never Said Goodbye on some Divas compilation of Mum's.

Then, a few Christmases ago we watched Amy's Andrew Lloyd Webber: The Royal Albert Hall Celebration and Glenn Close doing her fantastically nutty performances as Norma Desmond.

That night, I headed straight to wiki, to find out more about this musical that I recognised the songs from, but had never seen, nor knew anything about.

So, I was really excited to hear that Sunset Boulevard was coming to the West End this Christmas.

Two cheeky emails to PTA, and I've been offered two press tickets to the day after press night. Which is good enough for me.

Watch this space for the review.