When: Ten to 10 this morning
Where: coming out of Leicester Square
On my way to the BFI London Film Festival launch in a sunny, slightly autumnal Leicester Square this morning, I spotted a familiar (if older) face: Mensa member Jamie Theakston leaving the Capital Radio builing, with a huge box under his arm...
"Oi, Theako!" shouted a voice from behind him. (I can't promise 100% that this is what he said, but it kinda sounded like it.) There was Mr Vaughan, looking balder than ever (sigh), trotting along to catch up with his colleague...
It's been a while since I've seen Johnny, what with no longer being his neighbour, and therefore able to spot him out walking his hound :-(
The BFI London Film Festival launch was as inspiring and frustrating as usual. I want to see more films. Not more films in 10-20 second clips; more WHOLE films.
Here's my write-up of the launch on londonist
Showing posts with label press launch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label press launch. Show all posts
Wednesday, 9 September 2009
Friday, 15 May 2009
Spotted: Ben Whishaw
When: back, last month
Where: the press night of Rookery Nook @ Menier Chocolate Factory
I know, it was a long time back when CB and I saw Rookery Nook.
I was convinced we were sitting just behind someone famous; in fact, I was pretty sure it was that pretty bloke that had been on the Culture Show when they were talking about Katie Mitchell's ...some trace of her, but I couldn't be sure.
In fact, I was so unsure, I didn't even mention it when I blogged about that night.
He was too small, somehow. Too young. Too quiet. Too pretty. Too shy to have been that Hamlet that people raved about.
But seeing all the pictures that are out at the moment about Bright Star (particularly in Time Out), I'm now convinced.
Hope he enjoyed the show too.
Where: the press night of Rookery Nook @ Menier Chocolate Factory
I know, it was a long time back when CB and I saw Rookery Nook.
I was convinced we were sitting just behind someone famous; in fact, I was pretty sure it was that pretty bloke that had been on the Culture Show when they were talking about Katie Mitchell's ...some trace of her, but I couldn't be sure.
In fact, I was so unsure, I didn't even mention it when I blogged about that night.
He was too small, somehow. Too young. Too quiet. Too pretty. Too shy to have been that Hamlet that people raved about.
But seeing all the pictures that are out at the moment about Bright Star (particularly in Time Out), I'm now convinced.
Hope he enjoyed the show too.
Friday, 1 May 2009
My Romeo and a Rubbish Juliet at Shakespeare's Globe
People who know me well know that I'm fairly obsessive when it comes to Shakespeare, Shakespeare's plays, Shakespeare's Globe, and, in particular, Shakespeare plays at Shakespeare's Globe.
I'm happy to pay a fiver and stand; I've been there in my role as an English teacher, with a fab student; I've sat in v good seats with my bro, sis and sis-in-law; I've even been down on Shakespeare's birth-deathday and got into the free fun such a date brings.
And happily I've been freely cushioned and charmed by the press people on a couple of visits.
As a result, I've been lucky enough to see and review the following to date:
But it was still a lovely night out. CB and her mate J were there, as was my new friend Nick Curtis (!), and a few other critics I recognise (like KB). And I think (hope!) JC enjoyed it too.
I simply love the place.
I'll stick my neck out and say I'm pretty sure Shakespeare's Globe is my favourite place in the whole of London.
Sure, it's uncomfortable, awkward, hard to hear, and, well, quite hard work. But that's what Shakespeare's like too, so it feels like a totally fitting venue to me.
I love how you can watch other people watching the play. How you have to work hard to get the most out of it. How you do have to strain to hear. How people do this weird endurance thing with the hard benches and the standing, and still come back.
And I'm looking forward to seeing more things there in the future.
I'm happy to pay a fiver and stand; I've been there in my role as an English teacher, with a fab student; I've sat in v good seats with my bro, sis and sis-in-law; I've even been down on Shakespeare's birth-deathday and got into the free fun such a date brings.
And happily I've been freely cushioned and charmed by the press people on a couple of visits.
As a result, I've been lucky enough to see and review the following to date:
- Othello (May 07)
- The Merchant of Venice (July 07)
- The Frontline (July 08)
- and now, Romeo & Juliet (May 09)
But it was still a lovely night out. CB and her mate J were there, as was my new friend Nick Curtis (!), and a few other critics I recognise (like KB). And I think (hope!) JC enjoyed it too.
I simply love the place.
I'll stick my neck out and say I'm pretty sure Shakespeare's Globe is my favourite place in the whole of London.
Sure, it's uncomfortable, awkward, hard to hear, and, well, quite hard work. But that's what Shakespeare's like too, so it feels like a totally fitting venue to me.
I love how you can watch other people watching the play. How you have to work hard to get the most out of it. How you do have to strain to hear. How people do this weird endurance thing with the hard benches and the standing, and still come back.
And I'm looking forward to seeing more things there in the future.
Wednesday, 29 April 2009
A Merry Night at the Menier
I'm just back from a great night out courtesy of CB.
I haven't been to the Menier Chocolate Factory before, so was thrilled to get an invite, particularly to a press night.
First, we dined like 2-4-1 queens at the Pizza Express near the Globe overlooking the Thames, with lovely views of a sunny London evening, happy tourists, girly catch-ups and so on. Lots of nice chat, putting our little worlds to rights, swapping house-buying notes and examining that odd good/bad feeling of getting older (and possibly slightly wiser?), together.
Then we went on to the Menier, to see Rookery Nook. CB warned me that the WEW review hadn't been favourable.
It's a farce. That's almost all you need to know. Scantily clad girls, put-upon husbands, cheeky lads, overbearing wives, staff, secrets, hinted-at sex and innuendo. That's all. Put all the ingredients into an old, well-worn pot, and heat until you hear laughter.
There were some great one-liners, ace comic timing, lots of slamming doors and one of those classic country house sets with multiple exits and a window that reminded me of when the teachers at school used to do Jeeves and Wooster...
True, the cast were all spot-on. Neil Stuke, who played the hapless lead, Gerald, I finally realise I know from the awful and brilliant Game On (although he's been in lots besides). I really enjoyed the slimy cousin Clive, played by Edward Baker-Duly: a name that makes you wonder why playwrights bother. Something about him reminded me of 100 other things: old films, Blackadder / Richard Curtis-style humour, plays at school, moments from the LUDS years. Sweet, sweet nostalgia.
CB and WEW were both impressed with Mark Hadfield; as was I, although he perhaps had fewer chances to shine than the other two guys, and reminded me too much of a certain BJT from LUDS at uni...
And the girls were great too: there was Nurse Gladys Emanuel from Open All Hours (thanks WEW), a lovely turn from Sarah Woodward, and a brilliant slightly cameoish part played by Victoria Yeates, who gets to wear great 1920s underwear, and slap her own arse with pleasure.
I'll be interested to know how it does, to be honest. It classy and clever, but over-long and really lacking in anything suggesting originality. We'll see...
Lots of top theatre criticy people were there. The Billington, an older woman I seem to see at everything, the guy from theatreonline (or some such), and happily, my new "friend" Nick Curtis, of the Evening Standard.
In a string of conincidences akin to some of those on stage, it turns out Nick knows CB's cousin, they both attended said cousin's wedding, he's standing in for De Jongh doing some theatrey stuff at the moment, and, like us, he did the magazine course at Cardiff! (Many years ago, he was keen to add). And he seems lovely. He was gracious enough to listen while I babbled in semi-awe AND he gave me his business card.
This being a night of awkward farce (something I can excel in), I was, of course, completely unable to locate a copy of mine in return.
Meh.
His review is great; I particularly like the last para:
I haven't been to the Menier Chocolate Factory before, so was thrilled to get an invite, particularly to a press night.
First, we dined like 2-4-1 queens at the Pizza Express near the Globe overlooking the Thames, with lovely views of a sunny London evening, happy tourists, girly catch-ups and so on. Lots of nice chat, putting our little worlds to rights, swapping house-buying notes and examining that odd good/bad feeling of getting older (and possibly slightly wiser?), together.
Then we went on to the Menier, to see Rookery Nook. CB warned me that the WEW review hadn't been favourable.
It's a farce. That's almost all you need to know. Scantily clad girls, put-upon husbands, cheeky lads, overbearing wives, staff, secrets, hinted-at sex and innuendo. That's all. Put all the ingredients into an old, well-worn pot, and heat until you hear laughter.
There were some great one-liners, ace comic timing, lots of slamming doors and one of those classic country house sets with multiple exits and a window that reminded me of when the teachers at school used to do Jeeves and Wooster...
True, the cast were all spot-on. Neil Stuke, who played the hapless lead, Gerald, I finally realise I know from the awful and brilliant Game On (although he's been in lots besides). I really enjoyed the slimy cousin Clive, played by Edward Baker-Duly: a name that makes you wonder why playwrights bother. Something about him reminded me of 100 other things: old films, Blackadder / Richard Curtis-style humour, plays at school, moments from the LUDS years. Sweet, sweet nostalgia.
CB and WEW were both impressed with Mark Hadfield; as was I, although he perhaps had fewer chances to shine than the other two guys, and reminded me too much of a certain BJT from LUDS at uni...
And the girls were great too: there was Nurse Gladys Emanuel from Open All Hours (thanks WEW), a lovely turn from Sarah Woodward, and a brilliant slightly cameoish part played by Victoria Yeates, who gets to wear great 1920s underwear, and slap her own arse with pleasure.
I'll be interested to know how it does, to be honest. It classy and clever, but over-long and really lacking in anything suggesting originality. We'll see...
Lots of top theatre criticy people were there. The Billington, an older woman I seem to see at everything, the guy from theatreonline (or some such), and happily, my new "friend" Nick Curtis, of the Evening Standard.
In a string of conincidences akin to some of those on stage, it turns out Nick knows CB's cousin, they both attended said cousin's wedding, he's standing in for De Jongh doing some theatrey stuff at the moment, and, like us, he did the magazine course at Cardiff! (Many years ago, he was keen to add). And he seems lovely. He was gracious enough to listen while I babbled in semi-awe AND he gave me his business card.
This being a night of awkward farce (something I can excel in), I was, of course, completely unable to locate a copy of mine in return.
Meh.
His review is great; I particularly like the last para:
Best not to look too closely at the plot, much less the sexual politics. Travers takes delight in linguistic and romantic confusion, and absurdity for its own sake. Most people will be glad that they really don’t make ’em like this any more. But the clockwork meticulousness and rollicking impetus of Johnson’s revival makes me glad, too, that they did, once upon a time.Great stuff, and a fab night out.
Wednesday, 18 March 2009
Theatrical Excitement: Madame De Sade @ Wyndhams Theatre
After being blown away by Ivanov, with Ken Branagh, directed by Michael Grandage, as part of the Donmar West End Season last year, I'm very, very, VERY excited to be seeing Madame De Sade tomorrow night, on what appears to be the second press night.
Hurrah. I was offered the (single, meh) press ticket by my boss. Amazing. I'm so grateful.
The excitement crescendos on a number of levels.
First, and most importantly, I'm getting to see the lovely Dame Judi Dench on stage for the first time. I've been a big fan for a long time now. It probably triggered by seeing her in Mrs Brown, in Bond films, in Shakespeare in Love and on telly. Or by reading about her playing a wonderful Lady Macbeth at the age of 20, while I was studying at Liverpool. (This last fact may or may not be correct - I'm sure it was wonderful, I just don't know how old she was - but surely the point is that my interest was aroused...) Tonight's research has revealed a few more choice nuggets:
Third, this is the kind of show that's got even the sensible people at the Guardian getting into mischief: Dame Judi Brings Home the Bacon...
Fourth, and cheeky, I know, but it's a press ticket, so hopefully I'll get a great seat. I saw Ivanov from a vertigo-inducing standing position at the back of Wyndham's, for just a tenner, on the last weekend. Even from that distance, after that many shows, watching the top of Branagh's head and missing some of the play through awkward sight-lines, I could still tell that the acting, the directing, the whole shebang was brilliant. I can't wait to be able to see that from a decent seat (in the stalls?).
It's going to be good.
Hurrah. I was offered the (single, meh) press ticket by my boss. Amazing. I'm so grateful.
The excitement crescendos on a number of levels.
First, and most importantly, I'm getting to see the lovely Dame Judi Dench on stage for the first time. I've been a big fan for a long time now. It probably triggered by seeing her in Mrs Brown, in Bond films, in Shakespeare in Love and on telly. Or by reading about her playing a wonderful Lady Macbeth at the age of 20, while I was studying at Liverpool. (This last fact may or may not be correct - I'm sure it was wonderful, I just don't know how old she was - but surely the point is that my interest was aroused...) Tonight's research has revealed a few more choice nuggets:
- I love the fact that when she played Lady M opposite Ian McKellen at The Other Place in Stratford, Michael Billington was there, reviewing it: "If this is not great acting I don't know what is." (Not that exceptional a quote, I'm sure MB said other things besides, but apologies: I'm using wiki. Here's hoping he's there tomorrow; he might be seeing it tonight, though.)
- She's also a singer, having played Sally Bowles in Cabaret. Here it is on YouTube. She played Sally when she was 34. Which kinda kills my current silly "life's-going-to-be-over-when-I'm-30" vibe stone dead...
Third, this is the kind of show that's got even the sensible people at the Guardian getting into mischief: Dame Judi Brings Home the Bacon...
Fourth, and cheeky, I know, but it's a press ticket, so hopefully I'll get a great seat. I saw Ivanov from a vertigo-inducing standing position at the back of Wyndham's, for just a tenner, on the last weekend. Even from that distance, after that many shows, watching the top of Branagh's head and missing some of the play through awkward sight-lines, I could still tell that the acting, the directing, the whole shebang was brilliant. I can't wait to be able to see that from a decent seat (in the stalls?).
It's going to be good.
Thursday, 5 March 2009
Sublime and Ridiculous: Royal Albert Hall to the Hen and Chickens Theatre
It's been a pretty odd day, events-wise.
Alongside the launch of The King and I at the Royal Albert Hall, I also caught the press view of Obama On My Mind at the Hen and Chickens Theatre, not in Camden, as I'd mistakenly thought, but in Highbury / Islington. (North of the river is such an impenetrable maze...)
So, heading for a post-11pm cliche, it really has been a day swinging from the sublime to the ridiculous.
I channelled Olivia Jools at the Royal Albert Hall, knowing no one in an awkward pre-launch mingle, but was thrilled to finally hear from the real Raymond Gubbay (I thought, like the Colonel in KFC, he was long gone, and more of a semi-mythical character than a real-life person), a lovely bloke from the RAH, who's about to retire, and the wonderful Maria Friedman, about to take on the role of Anna. She sang "Hello, Young Lovers" in a nicely, unpolished version. I think she's going to be good.
Then, after work, it was all about the trusty 43 up through The City, and into the unknown of Highbury and Islington. Which I still manage to get confused about after all this time.
The Hen and Chickens is a delightful little pub theatre. Obama On My Mind is an odd, inappropriate little musical. Indeed, from the outset, when the cast all came on in pink hats with wobbling pigs on top, overfilling an under-funded space, it seemed to be as far from the impressions I have of Obama as it is possible to ever, ever be. A whole galaxy. Light years away from the slick, well-funded machine that got this clever, slick man into power. Actual, real, whole, light years.
I'll write the review in the morning.
Alongside the launch of The King and I at the Royal Albert Hall, I also caught the press view of Obama On My Mind at the Hen and Chickens Theatre, not in Camden, as I'd mistakenly thought, but in Highbury / Islington. (North of the river is such an impenetrable maze...)
So, heading for a post-11pm cliche, it really has been a day swinging from the sublime to the ridiculous.
I channelled Olivia Jools at the Royal Albert Hall, knowing no one in an awkward pre-launch mingle, but was thrilled to finally hear from the real Raymond Gubbay (I thought, like the Colonel in KFC, he was long gone, and more of a semi-mythical character than a real-life person), a lovely bloke from the RAH, who's about to retire, and the wonderful Maria Friedman, about to take on the role of Anna. She sang "Hello, Young Lovers" in a nicely, unpolished version. I think she's going to be good.
Then, after work, it was all about the trusty 43 up through The City, and into the unknown of Highbury and Islington. Which I still manage to get confused about after all this time.
The Hen and Chickens is a delightful little pub theatre. Obama On My Mind is an odd, inappropriate little musical. Indeed, from the outset, when the cast all came on in pink hats with wobbling pigs on top, overfilling an under-funded space, it seemed to be as far from the impressions I have of Obama as it is possible to ever, ever be. A whole galaxy. Light years away from the slick, well-funded machine that got this clever, slick man into power. Actual, real, whole, light years.
I'll write the review in the morning.
Thursday, 5 February 2009
Last night's Lear and Rupert's Goolden Crown Slips
Rupert, Rupert, Rupert: what were you doing?
Ahh, the disappointment. I can't work out quite what the precise problem was, or what he thought he was doing...
Was the text too much? Is Rupert Goold somehow not old enough to direct a Lear? (Seems a silly thing to suggest, but...) Was it the pressure of a key capital of culture production, with a key Liverpudlian figure, in the city itself enough to send him off on an odd, odd tangent? Did he struggle to make an impact after such a great Macbeth? "Rupert Goold is the future of Shakespeare" said the Independent. Not here he isn't.
Has he never been to Liverpool?
Was he messing around with the gang in Oliver, the luvvies in Pinter, some other project while he should've been working on a masterpiece?
Maybe we'll never know.
He was at the show last night. Walked across the stage somewhat purposefully during the first interval. I couldn't help worrying he'd caught a bit of Kevin's need to be in the spotlight. Normally I see him skulking around at the back.
Oh, I need my faith reassuring. Where's the next Six Characters for me to get obsessed with, please?
Ahh, the disappointment. I can't work out quite what the precise problem was, or what he thought he was doing...
Was the text too much? Is Rupert Goold somehow not old enough to direct a Lear? (Seems a silly thing to suggest, but...) Was it the pressure of a key capital of culture production, with a key Liverpudlian figure, in the city itself enough to send him off on an odd, odd tangent? Did he struggle to make an impact after such a great Macbeth? "Rupert Goold is the future of Shakespeare" said the Independent. Not here he isn't.
Has he never been to Liverpool?
Was he messing around with the gang in Oliver, the luvvies in Pinter, some other project while he should've been working on a masterpiece?
Maybe we'll never know.
He was at the show last night. Walked across the stage somewhat purposefully during the first interval. I couldn't help worrying he'd caught a bit of Kevin's need to be in the spotlight. Normally I see him skulking around at the back.
Oh, I need my faith reassuring. Where's the next Six Characters for me to get obsessed with, please?
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
Spotted: Jane Horrocks
When: 7.14
Where: Young Vic
It wasn't a 7.30 start at last night's King Lear, oh no. 7.15 I needed to be on The Cut. And it was still really snowy and icy on the pavements. And I was running late, as usual.
Grabbing my press ticket, attempting some niceties with the PR people, I rushed to the door. General Admission; I'd been warned the press seats might no longer be available.
In front of me, a petite blonde with her mate was also flapping over the awkward timings, and the potential of missing a good seat. I knew it was Jane Horrocks from her profile. No idea why; perhaps I was just on celeb alert last night. When I made a little quip about being late, she turned and stared really pointedly at me. "Do I know you? Should I know you? Do you know me?" her stare seemed to ask. When it became clear the answer was no, she carried on with her friend.
The girl ushering took my ticket after theirs and ripped through it. Weirdly, she then handed me back two pieces of paper: my ticket, and Jane Horrocks' booking receipt, complete with address.
She lives in Twickenham.
Where: Young Vic
It wasn't a 7.30 start at last night's King Lear, oh no. 7.15 I needed to be on The Cut. And it was still really snowy and icy on the pavements. And I was running late, as usual.
Grabbing my press ticket, attempting some niceties with the PR people, I rushed to the door. General Admission; I'd been warned the press seats might no longer be available.
In front of me, a petite blonde with her mate was also flapping over the awkward timings, and the potential of missing a good seat. I knew it was Jane Horrocks from her profile. No idea why; perhaps I was just on celeb alert last night. When I made a little quip about being late, she turned and stared really pointedly at me. "Do I know you? Should I know you? Do you know me?" her stare seemed to ask. When it became clear the answer was no, she carried on with her friend.
The girl ushering took my ticket after theirs and ripped through it. Weirdly, she then handed me back two pieces of paper: my ticket, and Jane Horrocks' booking receipt, complete with address.
She lives in Twickenham.
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
Covent Garden Cakery
I wrote about Candy Cakes at HC's request on the Valentine's Day gift ideas for the shopping pages at work. (The same shopping pages I keep being told are hugely popular among the European visitors to the website: nice!)
A couple of days' later, an invite comes into our general inbox. Would we like to attend the press launch of a new Candy Cakes shop in Covent Garden?
Err, yes please!
So, instead of going straight to work on Tuesday, I make a little detour (ahem) to Covent Garden for 9am-ish, to hunt out Candy Cakes' new abode. (Get into the office at 10am. Job's a good'un.)
If you're a regular in CG, you probably know all about the shop already. When I spy the mint green walks and lurid pink stools seemingly shining from below as I'm upstairs in the empty, early morning market (having only the briefest of My Fair Lady moments) it certainly has the look of something that's been around for a while. Indeed, I find out they've been there since August. Odd that they're having a press launch, then. Well, for whatever reason, they are, and I'm there.
It's a great place. I've written about it on londonist here, and I hope to include it elsewhere on VL. I really enjoyed spending time there (despite their stammering, ?nervous? marketing manager.) I think if I were a tourist, particularly a young one, I'd think this place was pretty magical.
Shamefully, I didn't get the name of the artist responsible for the brilliant art on the walls. I feel bad about that. In fact, I should contact the nice PR girls and find out.
And I have to admit that, because I'm NOT a tourist, the likelihood of me going down into the very centre of busking, twee, packed, pricey Covent Garden Market for a simple cup of coffee is probably very poor, no matter how delicious the cakes. Running through CG to get somewhere else (theatre, dinner, home); now that's more probable. But I feel like, if you're a Londoner, somehow you don't deserve / need / want to sit in colourful, sugar-sweetened wonder on those remarkably pink seats and feel like you're in another world.
Because Covent Garden doesn't belong to Londoners anymore, like it does at the start of MFL. It's another world alright, but one that belongs to the tourists.
A couple of days' later, an invite comes into our general inbox. Would we like to attend the press launch of a new Candy Cakes shop in Covent Garden?
Err, yes please!
So, instead of going straight to work on Tuesday, I make a little detour (ahem) to Covent Garden for 9am-ish, to hunt out Candy Cakes' new abode. (Get into the office at 10am. Job's a good'un.)
If you're a regular in CG, you probably know all about the shop already. When I spy the mint green walks and lurid pink stools seemingly shining from below as I'm upstairs in the empty, early morning market (having only the briefest of My Fair Lady moments) it certainly has the look of something that's been around for a while. Indeed, I find out they've been there since August. Odd that they're having a press launch, then. Well, for whatever reason, they are, and I'm there.
It's a great place. I've written about it on londonist here, and I hope to include it elsewhere on VL. I really enjoyed spending time there (despite their stammering, ?nervous? marketing manager.) I think if I were a tourist, particularly a young one, I'd think this place was pretty magical.
Shamefully, I didn't get the name of the artist responsible for the brilliant art on the walls. I feel bad about that. In fact, I should contact the nice PR girls and find out.
And I have to admit that, because I'm NOT a tourist, the likelihood of me going down into the very centre of busking, twee, packed, pricey Covent Garden Market for a simple cup of coffee is probably very poor, no matter how delicious the cakes. Running through CG to get somewhere else (theatre, dinner, home); now that's more probable. But I feel like, if you're a Londoner, somehow you don't deserve / need / want to sit in colourful, sugar-sweetened wonder on those remarkably pink seats and feel like you're in another world.
Because Covent Garden doesn't belong to Londoners anymore, like it does at the start of MFL. It's another world alright, but one that belongs to the tourists.
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