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Post by Steve on May 9, 2024 16:59:10 GMT
Just got out of this, and enjoyed it, despite being a bit tired for having to drive on account of train strikes.
I will write a very quick car park review while I wait for the car park to clear lol.
Some spoilers follow. . .
It's a very classy sedate production, with lots of lovely musical interludes accompanied by suitably stiff and staid courtly dancing, an adaptation written by Mike Poulton as if we've already seen his adaptations of "Wolf Hall" and "Bringing up the Bodies," who thus leaves out a lot of the action from both those plays.
Thus this show plays like a serious version of "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead," whereby we barely ever see the real schemers, Cromwell, Wolsey and especially Henry VIII, the monster at the heart of it all.
Instead, we get Freya Mavor's Anne Boleyn acting like Regina George from "Mean Girls," calling her sister Mary a "farm animal," a "slut" and a "whore," and scheming to steal her life. The girls' mother and uncle, Alex Kingston and Andrew Wyatt, are equally, if deliciously dreadful, albeit caricatures of dreadfulness, whereas Mavor's Anne's dreadfulness is much better developed and verges on poignant.
Thankfully, Lucy Phelps' Mary Boleyn is a likeable character, the only one, and her plight, her attempts to survive and save her sister from herself, are moving.
Anyway, by keeping Cromwell and Henry VIII out of the show, by and large, much drama is sacrificed, and I enjoyed this classy 2 hour, 55 minutes production to the tune of 3 and a half stars.
Now the drive home, grr, but at least the car park misery is over, and I can exit at leisure lol.
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Post by Steve on May 8, 2024 13:27:52 GMT
Merch desk. Couple in front devastated at £2 magnets having sold out, as they collect them for their fridge. T-shirts reduced to £15. Who could resist! T-shirt acquired! Interval edit: Nicola Hughes is back and she's killing it. SO goode!
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Post by Steve on May 7, 2024 20:29:37 GMT
RIP Ian Gelder, a wonderful actor. My thoughts are with his loved ones.
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Post by Steve on May 7, 2024 20:19:50 GMT
Row G of the Dress is £50. That's probably better than giving £25 for the back of the Upper Circle, which is SO high lol. No, it’s £80 if you have to book ahead as those of us from out of town have to do. Also, I’m not paying £80 for 7 rows back in the circle. £80 should get you a decent stalls seat. I just booked Row G of the Dress for late June for £50. Admittedly, it wasn't the weekend I booked, so that's probably it.
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Post by Steve on May 7, 2024 20:17:02 GMT
His music was the worst part of the show… For me, the book is the worst part of the show. Its utterly static, bonkers, and then tries to explain itself desperately by being embarrassingly on the nose. That's down to Van Hove sticking too closely to Cassavetes' art film, which was also a flop in its day, and could never have been made into a commercial musical, with exciting action, by anybody. I agree Rufus Wainwright's music doesn't advance the plot, but that would have been impossible anyway because the plot doesn't advance. For me, as music, it's wonderful! I love it. Of course, this was never a commercial prospect, post-Brexit, during Brexit, pre-Brexit, since the dawn of time lol. Of course, he is understandably upset because his baby has been judged as ugly, and nobody can deal with that without getting upset. Sondheim was always upset by the smallest critical comment, for example. Anyway, the cast do amazing justice to Wainwright's songs, and I've loved this eccentric show as something "completely different," to quote Monty Python. And Sheridan Smith has been amazing, brilliant in the show, gone above and beyond to promote it, and indeed, without her efforts, the numbers would have been far far worse.
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Post by Steve on May 7, 2024 19:59:18 GMT
I hope Layton keeps the drag out of it. It’s not drag. Either way, with every cast change the idea of spending circa £200 on this becomes more preposterous. I am destined never to see it. Row G of the Dress is £50. That's probably better than giving £25 for the back of the Upper Circle, which is SO high lol.
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Post by Steve on May 5, 2024 16:22:47 GMT
I’d love to see/hear Celinde Schoenmaker play Jenny Lindt…and maybe Jamie Muscato as Zac Efron. Celinde Schoenmaker was great as Jenny Lind in Barnum at the Menier, best thing about that production in a country mile lol.
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Post by Steve on May 5, 2024 11:47:48 GMT
Which leads me directly to talking about the first half closing number, "Life is Thin," my favourite song in this show, performed by the character of Sarah Goode, the writer of the play-within-the-play, "The Second Woman!" Spoilers follow. . . 1. "Life is Thin:-" Ostensibly, Sarah Goode, the writer, is "the third woman" (ie an aging post-menopausal woman) who scares the heck out of Sheridan Smith's Myrtle ("the second woman," no longer young but not yet old) with her dour dreary script about aging, "The Second Woman," catalysing Myrtle's retreat into a destructive imaginary fantasy friendship with "the first woman," Shira Haas's dead 17 year old Nancy (youthful, reckless, passionate, bonkers), which Myrtle, having had a psychotic break, perceives as real. As if that wasn't bonkers enough, as is universally common in this show, a much bigger metaphor outweighs and overthrows the "reality" of this already absurd situation in the final song of the first act: For Rufus Wainwright, Sarah Goode is the harbinger of death and the song is a five minute heart attack! The title of the song ("Life is THIN") gives the first clue, as the "thin"-nest thing about our lives are our constricting arteries, which thin until they eventually kill us, if something else doesn't get us first; The second clue is the beat of the intro music, which thumps a heavy bass two-pronged "boom boom" heartbeat motif as the intro. The music to the song that follows, accompanying that heartbeat, piano and percussion jazz-inflected funky sixties-style dance music, reflects a dance of death conception to the song, whereby we mindlessly dance along with our lives until we suddenly cop it; The third clue is that the song is framed as a series of interruptions to Myrtle working on the play, nattering away with the director and her ex-husband, as Sarah Goode watches on, lying in wait, to interrupt Myrtle's ramblings, like a heart attack which can suddenly interrupt our day to day:- She gutturally growls (if sung by Nicola Hughes, in the manner of Shirley Bassey singing a Bond song) or eye-brow raised, scowling sneers (if sung by Jennifer Hepburn) the following lyrics: "This silly world we're living for Can disappear in the matter of a minute Don't get your hopes up anymore Life is Thin." The diabolical infinite expanse of (not so) Goode's vision becomes clear, as she dismisses any human pretensions to permanence, like Shelley in "Ozymandias," snarling "The Pyramids are a house of cards." Then, she cautions: "It's over before you know it It's over even before you blow it You're welcome and thanks for coming Yes I've been patiently waiting for you And now You're in." Like in Nick Cave's "Red Right Hand," Sarah Goode isn't so much Good as GOD, patiently waiting for us to expire, to welcome us in to the afterlife. Not only does she sneer that we are likely to "blow" our plans, we are likely to expire "even before we blow it" lol. I mean, not even having the chance to blow it, that's really mean! As Michael Palin said in "Monty Python," "Noone expects the Spanish Inquisition:" and so it is with Goode, each interruption of Myrtle's play-within-a-play, leaping out to get Myrtle like the Spanish Inquistion, a closeup of a hidden Goode towering and glowering over proceedings, even as Goode herself disappears off stage left, hidden from Myrtle and us on stage but only revealed by Van Hove's omniscient enormous threatening screen, plotting Myrtles demise, her voice growing louder and LOUDER with each interruption as death draws near. With each interruption, the immediacy of the danger Goode represents lyrically increases: Whereas initially she gloated that we could die "in the matter of a minute," in a subsequent verse, she suggests that "this silly world we're living for Can explode in the heat of a moment" and most sinisterly, she subsequently concludes that, "This silly world we're living for Can expire in a FRACTION OF A SECOND." Louder and louder, with greater and greater urgency, Hughes' belt tops most anyone you've ever seen as the song concludes with one more "It's over before you know it It's over even before you blow it You're welcome and thanks for coming Yes I've been patiently waiting for you And now You're in." Myrtle falls to the floor, apparently dead from this lurking heart attack of a song, metaphorically admitted to the afterlife in that instant.
The famous film sequence that this song most resembles is at the end of James Cameron's "The Terminator," as Arnold Schwarzenegger's Teminator just keeps getting up and coming back to kill Sarah Connor one more time, even after you've written him off for dead. Here, Nicola Hughes' Terminator just keeps coming back one more time to (metaphorically) kill Myrtle.
Hilariously, the song ends in a musical Bond parody flourish, mimicking the music of the gun barrel sequence in every Bond film where Bond appears at the end of the barrel, except here, it is Nicola Hughes' Goode, Sarah Goode, who turns to shoot Myrtle dead. About 16 performances remain of this incredible song, and it remains to be seen if the superlative Nicola Hughes will return for any of them. If she does, it's "Time to Die."
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Post by Steve on May 5, 2024 11:04:53 GMT
Interestingly I only enjoyed Gross Und Klein for Cate B Three Sisters was okay and worked well enough I'm interested what made you keep going back to other Andrews productions? Hope over experience? Because frankly after last week, can't see I'll be booking another of his shows... Parsley does say he enjoyed "Gross und Klein" for Cate Blanchett, and "Three Sisters" generally, so not a total loss then. No doubt he'll speak more to this lol.
In the meantime, for me, "Gross und Klein" was revelatory for showing how Cate Blanchett's character, desperate to communicate, fails to do so again and again and again. It could easily be read as a powerful portrait of neurodivergence, where her character's brain simply functioned on a different wavelength from other people, and noone was willing to meet her half way. Heartbreaking.
"Three Sisters" had a great concept, a ground literally falling away from under the characters' feet, but the performances and characterisations were equally great, with Vanessa Kirby, Adrian Schiller, Danny Kirrane, Sam Troughton, Mariah Gale all doing such great work, I thought.
And although Parsley hated that "Streetcar," I thought the spinning set really conveyed such a caged atmosphere for Gillian Anderson's Blanche, with Stanley always claustrophically somewhere on it, behind a curtain or whatever, that she had no escape, and I just had to cry.
I wasn't bothered about whether the clothes of those productions belonged to Emperors or paupers, whether they were new or old, but they did break my heart. :'
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Post by Steve on May 5, 2024 8:50:23 GMT
Well, I enjoyed the show. They tried something new, maybe it didn't really work but there was something there. We had Jennifer Hepburn on for Sarah (the writer) who was amazing. I went to yesterday's matinee, as I simply LOVE this utterly eccentric, gloriously pretentious show full of desperately poignant and on-point songs and terrific performances, despite all its flaws (all inherited from the source material: unlikeable characters, meandering static plot, blustering blisteringly obvious revelations about aging), and its imminent closing and copious ticket availability have motivated me to go as much as possible lol.
So I did get to see Jennifer Hepburn's take on Sarah Goode, the writer, and she is archly, slyly, comically good, an eagle-eyed predator perpetually, loftily and wryly surveying her victim (Sheridan Smith's Myrtle) for the kill. Nicola Hughes, by contrast, is MUCH more fearsome, the coming of the storm, an unstoppable, raging, fearsome twister destroying everything in her path.
It's like the comparison between Rachel Tucker and Nicole Scherzinger in Sunset Boulevard, where the former had more intricate characterising nuances to her performance but the latter was an unstoppable tour-de-force that leaves you breathless.
Both were great!
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Post by Steve on May 5, 2024 8:21:10 GMT
I have a ticket for this next week, but given the reviews on here, I'm debating whether or not to exchange it for credit and go see Long Day's Journey instead as I have no more free slots before that closes. Thoughts from anyone who's seen both would be appreciated! I would see "Long Days Journey." Patricia Clarkson is an absolute wonder and Eugene O'Neill's play is long (set on one long day) but great.
The main problem people have noted is some occasional line hesitancies by Brian Cox, allegedly being fed lines through an earpiece, but like with Michael Gambon when he started being unable to remember lines, and started doing plays with as few lines as possible, that just signaled to me to get out and see him pronto, because you don't miss a good actor just because they can no longer remember massive amounts of lines. You grab the chance while you can.
David Haig's play is not moving, in my opinion, being more preoccupied with staging some great action on a fantastic set, nor does he actually tell Philip K Dick's story (neither does the film, for that matter, as they both change it into something more humanistic).
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Post by Steve on May 4, 2024 23:20:29 GMT
Saw this tonight and felt it was absolutely magical. Some spoilers follow. . . It's wall-to-wall orchestral music, which I didn't remember from the film (I saw it in the cinema way back when) but which I'm a sucker for, as you can never pile on enough primal emotion for my tastes. Everything that happens on the stage seems to be underscored. The cast seem to vary each night, many being triple cast, so as a huge admirer of the film, I was beyond chuffed that we got Mari Natsuki as the principal villain, Yubaba, as she originated the part in the movie, and is simply wonderful. There's a big blue board as you go in that tells you who you're getting. The puppets are really colourful, evocative and special. It's War Horse style puppeteering for all the dragons, and stink monsters and sooties, which all seem to be alive. But the best effects, for me, involved a strong human element at their core, so Kamaji, played tonight by the ever-inquisitive, uber-compassionate, wide-eyed Tomorowo Taguchi, was really something, his long spider-like extra arms puppeteered to make him resemble an ever-active human spinning loom. Possibly one of the most commanding performances is by one of the very few single-cast characters, Hikaru Yamano, as No-Face, whose face, amusingly, given the character's name, you never see, until the bows. But, god, his physicality, his balletic movements, his sheer strangeness, the way he drifts and his body twists and turns unnaturally, and how he stops dead still to stare, Mona-Lisa-like at the audience, is gripping in it's ethereality. You'd swear he really wasn't human. And when the puppeteering starts, to grow his body by exponentially adding more and more people into his character's being, it's a wonder that tops even the wonderful Totoro, in my opinion. The other great fantastical character, with a human core, is the three green bobbing heads of Kashira, played by Yuya Igarashi (also single cast, thank goodness, so everyone can see him), hench creature of the principal villain, Yubaba. Igarashi gives the biggest performance in the show, an exaggerated comic performance, a performance that has to be so big it fills three heads, two of which he carries. Big performances can be risky because if they miss the mark they are embarrassing, but this one, for me, is downright hilarious, the funniest thing in the show, topping even the sooties. We had Mone Kamishiraishi, as Chihiro, the lead character, and one thing I would note is that it's a far more subtle, thoughtful and engaging lead performance than that in Totoro, where the character plays much younger. Here, there is simply no way to be pushed out of the story by wacky comic wailing and the like, with a tender believable emotive core to the performance at all times. As a reviewer noted above, the story told is absolutely faithful to the film (I imagine that's what Miyazaki wanted), so that does mean that to be surprised, you really need to have almost forgotten the film, or never seen it at all lol. Anyhow, this is a wonderful show. Its in Japanese, so you do have to read surtitles if you don't speak the language, but it's easy and natural enough to do if you are happy to read subtitles for films generally. For me, 4 and a half stars of sustained magical musical wonder.
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Post by Steve on May 4, 2024 17:32:58 GMT
Not seeing this for another 10 days though I now find myself wondering if the professional reviews are sliiightly influenced by class orientation. I wouldn't say class, as you can be very conservative in your basic leanings no matter what "class" you are, and equally you can lean liberal no matter what your class. It is likely that if you have a basically conservative outlook (ie you are more comfortable with what you are already familiar with) versus a more liberal outlook (you are especially open to the adventure of seeing things done in a way you've never seen before), you are more likely to reject what Andrews is doing. Conservative impulses supposedly evolved to keep us safe, so we don't walk off cliffs. Liberal impulses supposedly evolved to achieve an edge via trying new ways of doing things. The worries for the basic outlooks are that some liberals will inevitably fall off cliffs, and some conservatives will be inevitably be left behind. But both impulses are present in varying degrees in everybody as our ancestors survived using both impulses to give birth to us. Some spoilers follow. . . So if when the lights stay on, you feel "that's wrong," then things aren't gonna work out. If you think "ooh, that's interesting," you've a shot at enjoying yourself. If when you hear the word," f--kwit," and you think "that word is disturbing, the translator is impolite," you are on the path to hating this. If you think, "good stuff, sounds like the real world," you might appreciate this. If when an actor addresses an audience member as a piece of furniture, you are angry because "that's not how proper theatre, especially Chekhov, is done," you aren't going to like this. If you laugh, and think, "this is fun, I wonder where this is going," you've a shot at enjoying yourself. These choices of Andrews' will add up, and many more follow, not least being the use of actor-musicians, and if you psychologically align conservative at each and every choice, you will be having an awful time long before the second half payoff comes, and the show will be irredeemable by then. If you are open to to these choices, you might find yourself exhilarated come the denouement. Like I said, being a conservative personality type (and it's all a spectrum anyway - my own immense conservative enjoyment of the cosy "Dear Octopus" period piece was off the charts lol) is a great advantage in many situations, especially related to survival by not taking undue risks, but it will not have been an advantage for any critic who saw this show.
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Post by Steve on May 3, 2024 9:41:02 GMT
4 stars from The Stage:
"Benedict Andrews’ exhilaratingly radical adaptation brings passion and a playful punk spirit to Chekhov’s classic satire of class and capitalism"
Another - to me - inexplicable review.
And Dave Fargnoli boots in a "lively and irreverent" goal for the Bright Side Team, with the score now standing at Bright Side 2, Dark Side 2 :0 Its tense out there. . . But now, Whatsonstage's Sarah Crompton, for the Darksiders, scores a savage 3 star goal against the Brightsiders, describing the play as a "Puccini aria played by Slipknot." www.whatsonstage.com/news/the-cherry-orchard-at-donmar-warehouse-review-like-hearing-a-puccini-aria-played-by-slipknot_1597698/Cup half full: 2, Cup half Empty 3 But wait, you can hear a pin drop as TimeOut's Andrzej Lukowski takes the ball for a penalty. This brilliant, broadminded, perspicacious, deeply humane, critic hits a 5 star ball straight over the net as both Brightsiders and Darksiders look on in disbelief: www.timeout.com/london/theatre/the-cherry-orchard-15-reviewIt's Positive Reviews 3, Lukewarm and Negative Reviews 3 The game tastes like marmite, the most freely advertised spread in theatregoing history.
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Post by Steve on May 3, 2024 9:33:10 GMT
3 stars from Independent “Annoying” “Grating” That's a goal for you, Parsley (and It and the other negative theatreboard reviewers). After all, in the immortal words of Linda Evangelista, theatregoers don't get out of bed (and invest time, tickets, trains, buses, childcare, etc) for less than 4 stars And ooof, Broadway World comes in with 2 stars: www.broadwayworld.com/westend/article/Review-THE-CHERRY-ORCHARD-Donmar-Warehouse-20240503That's Parsley (and It, etc) 2, Steve 1 as Parsley scores twice, as Steve is flagging desperately. Tough match! :0
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Post by Steve on May 3, 2024 8:01:11 GMT
The scores are coming in.
Steve 1, Parsley 0
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Post by Steve on May 3, 2024 7:54:48 GMT
I need something plausible & realistic. Tennessee Williams's way of writing may just be too la-di-da and poetic for your tastes.
Some spoilery comments follow. . .
But when it comes to "plausible and realistic," this is his most real play, in that it is autobiographical to a massive degree, features places he actually lived in, and the characters are reflections of his own mother and sister, and his guilt about his sister (sometime after the events of this play, after he left this stifling home for broader artistic pastures, she was lobotomised) never left him.
This play is a confession of real guilt, the guilt of someone who leaves people behind, but also, massive love for his sister and mother, who he may not have been able to live with at the time, but who he has immortalised lovingly, with all their frailties and flaws, along with his own confession of his own frailties and flaws, forever.
This version of the play doesn't egg up the mannerisms of the mother, which is why the first half feels less fake (actors and audiences love playing up the whole flighty, bonkers thing, but Geraldine Somerville doesn't) than usual. The dreaminess of the play, I feel, reflects his own endless musings about his family, and his role in his family, and that is a "plausible and real" description of how the mind works, at least how Tennessee Williams's mind worked anyway lol.
If you do see this, and don't like it, then you know for sure that this play will never be your thing.
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Post by Steve on May 3, 2024 7:37:20 GMT
My point is the reviews must be imminent, and you can see where the majority, or your favourite critic, falls.
For me this is a very telling battle of Steve versus Parsley; the effusive critic who always strives to find something positive to say even when maybe there is perhaps an abject absence of positive things to find (much the character Alec Baldwin played in "Friends") against the terse and direct critic who almost seems to salivate at the prospect of delivering a few barbed home truths (much like the protagonist in Shania Twain's anthem "That Don't Impress Me Much"). In many ways I love them both. Let battle.... commence! P.S Don't get the hump with me Steve; I'm just trying to have fun. Parsley is the most direct, caustic and funny person I've ever met.
He always makes me laugh. He had the most marvelous seat and stayed until the end, so the play has no excuses lol.
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Post by Steve on May 2, 2024 20:54:24 GMT
I also loved Three Sisters This is worlds apart from that production I may chance it - knowing there was intel to the contrary. With this and 'Opening Night' still to see, the 'at your own risk' nights are stacking up. As I left, I heard Mark Lawson saying "that was different," though I don't know whether for better or worse lol.
My point is the reviews must be imminent, and you can see where the majority, or your favourite critic, falls.
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Post by Steve on May 2, 2024 20:24:41 GMT
A custom built venue?!? For why? Presumably with the anticipation of keeping the show open forever, without coughing up for a major West End Theatre, like the Abba Voyage thing. :0
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Post by Steve on May 2, 2024 20:23:00 GMT
It WILL be.
Everybody I know, 90 percent of whom never go to the theatre, LOVE the soundtrack to that movie and go around singing it!
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Post by Steve on May 1, 2024 23:55:56 GMT
I saw this tonight, and thought it was terrific! Much better than the horror-focused "Cherry Orchard" at the Young Vic, and also more original and exciting than the last one the National did, in my opinion. Yes, there is a danger of audience participation if you are front row of the stalls, and I was glad not to be sat there. At tonight's preview, it ran from 7:35pm - 10:25pm, making for a running time of 2 hours 50 minutes, including an interval. It will undoubtedly get shorter. Some spoilers follow. . . For the first half, I was wondering what happened to Benedict Andrews, as it just seemed like a straightforward Brechtian thing, with the lights on, some audience participation, actors sitting among the audience, and an Anya Reiss type script update, using modern words like "f--kwit" and modern phrases like "See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya." Where was the genius of his "Three Sisters," with all the stacked tables and chairs disappearing one by one from under the actors' feet, leaving them with less and less room to exist? Where was the spinning stage of "Streetcar," which created that sense of New York dynamism? In fact, the isolation of the actors playing the scenes in the first half, surrounded by the other actors all watching them as audience members, made them feel lonely and artificial, struggling to create any sense of real human interaction. Except with the audience lol. Most audience members singled out were only referred to, rather than having to do anything, so not a real worry, but one bloke was dragged on stage, and was an amazing sport about it, though I hope he was consulted in advance about it. In the second half, it became clear that the first half had only really been a warm-up, as by now, the atmosphere of the audience and actors, all being one and the same, had been established, accepted and internalised, and at this point, accompanied by onstage instruments and actor-musicians, a chaotic Chekhovian sense of real people living real lives just exploded into reality and the in-the-round staging meant we all felt part of it. With most of the actors now flooding the stage at once, and all sorts of things happening simultaneously, the sense of the actors being under the microscope ended, replaced by a sense of all the diversity of behaviour and beliefs of humanity all happening at once, simply existing, which did absolute justice to Chekhov's conversational characters and class-related themes. The audience being a part of it also continued for some game front row stalls participants. . . They danced with the actors, though the gig theatre atmosphere felt so liberated and free, that they seemed joyfully a part of it rather than self-consciously. There was no speaking by those audience members who participated. Anyway, I felt that after an average first half, we had an explosive and utterly gripping second half, simply wonderful in every way, dramatically, in characterisation, the authenticity of it, all only possible on account of the first half conditioning the audience to feel part of the show. The entire acting ensemble were on fire, moulding life forces to be reckoned with: with Adeel Akhtar's self-made man, Lopakhin a perfect blend of wilful belligerence, street smarts and soulful compassion; June Watson's frail Firs furiously cursing the future into the wind while gleefully and lovingly fawning over the past; Nina Hoss's Ranevskaya so regal, dazed, confused and open-hearted; David Ganly's Boris so complacent yet frenzied about money; and I could go on as I loved the entire ensemble. Overall, this was not the comedy that Chekhov supposedly wanted it to be, but nor was it the weighty drama Stanislavsky supposedly thought it should be. Benedict Arnold just winds up both audience and actors like a music box until all we feel is the reality and truth of Chekhov's whole world. 4 and a half stars from me.
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Post by Steve on May 1, 2024 22:27:36 GMT
I have played Charles in Pippin and the music for that number is not enhanced by interpolated riffs and embellishments. The score reflects the regimented nature of the character and his approach to life as a direct contrast to his rather wafty son. So riffs are not a valid choice for this song. Aww. But as Patricia Hodge says in "Miranda," it was all "such fun" and I personally felt the embellishments added to the atmosphere of fun. You could easily read the embellishment last night as a way of exhibiting majesty to dazzle Jac Yarrow's innocent dopey unembellished Pippin all the more by sheer force of character. And you could also read it as competition between all the seducers of Pippin for his attention, as all the players, bar Pippin, seems to be under the Leading Player's sway to a degree. The idea that there's only one way to do something sounds a bit like the end of variety and directing as a profession. Might as well just give the Director's job to an AI if there's only one way to see the character.
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Post by Steve on May 1, 2024 16:33:32 GMT
My brochure for ROH arrived today and perhaps that's where my sensibilities as a patron need to be directed. At 57 years and a lifetime of theatregoing, I am starting not to recognise or enjoy what once was a huge passion. Rant over. You're entitled to a rant if you paid good money and didn't enjoy yourself. I wouldn't throw the baby out with the bathwater, though. This was advertised as a birthday party of sorts ("50th anniversary") and people tend to get raucous if they think they're at a birthday celebration. I saw "Next to Normal" twice at the Donmar and you could hear a pin drop both times, and people were crying not cheering, for the most part. Sure, they ovated the actors, but they ovate like hell at the opera house too. And there, they even boo if they don't like something, and I never heard rudeness like that at the theatre. At least not directed at the actors lol. I remember one bloke at the opera house about 5 years ago just started smoking, and the guy next to him practically threw him out. The chap only spoke Italian, so maybe didn't know about the smoking ban lol. Maybe just avoid anything that uses the words "anniversary," "concert" (people associate that word with gigs, for better or for worse), and avoid anything which is primarily camp, cos camp means party time.
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Post by Steve on Apr 30, 2024 20:01:43 GMT
I kind of loved it but did anyone find act one stronger than act two? Act two gives the much needed story arc but felt a bit boring to me haha. Well, I'm in the interval, and Zizi Strallen, as Fastrada, has made it absolutely impossible to top Act 1! She's one part breathy, hissing, camp, gurning, eye-popping, scheming, scene-stealing Disney villain, one part high-kicking gold-dressed showgirl, who can freeze with her leg up (her son Lewis was literally talking to her leg half the time lol), and one part stand-up, her line deliveries so OTT that they were downright hilarious! The moment that Strallen, doing a half handstand, rolled the King's crown suggestively up and down her outstretched leg was magical for being so outrageously preposterous. That number alone was worth the price of the ticket right there. Patricia Hodge sang far far better than I expected, and poignantly, as observed above, and like Strallen, she had the showmanship to just own the audience and command them to sing (the chorus words on a large banner behind her), and then the regal authority just to command a stop so she could sensitively sing the last verse to Pippin herself! Marvellous! And yes, the sound was PERFECT! Is it that Drury Lane is just acoustically better than the Palladium, or is it that purple box reigning in the percussion (cos Jesus, the percussion destroyed the sound of "Made in Dagenham" at the Palladium)? Anyhow, kudos to the producers. And Kudos too for hiring these 2 young Bob Fosses (Amonik Melaco and Jak Allen-Anderson) to dance so fabulously, and exuding such variety and sheer showbiz life force! You hear a "concert" and you really worry they'll cut costs by skimping on the dance numbers, but these numbers are THRILLING! Cedric Neal absolutely rocked Charlemagne too, with camp prancing and trilling interspersed with commanding authority. Add Alex Newell, as the Leading Player, stalking around and teasing and brilliantly and beautifully belting in her blue outfit and Jac Yarrow (kitted out in a golden robe reminiscent of his coat of multi-colours from "Joseph") as the slightly dim-witted but uber-confident sparrow-like calm at the centre of this storm of a show, and this was a total smash of a first half. . . Bring on Act 2: (Edit to include Act 2. . .) Ok, so this was a 5 star concert, for me, the best revival concert of a full show, in my opinion, since Maria Friedman's concert version of "Witches of Eastwick" outdid the original. . . Lucie Jones, absolute perfection as Pippin's love interest, Catherine, the role Patricia Hodge played 50 years ago, was my highlight of Act 2! Jones nailed both layers of the role, the OTT slightly sickly, yet somehow utterly endearing breathy try-hard sweetness of Catherine, but also simultaneously the meta-role of the dimbulb actress playing Catherine, tottering around the stage self-consciously over-emphatic, ever-petrified of getting another scolding from the caustic, cutting, commanding, Leading Player scornfully barking orders at her! The superb balancing act of Jones's performance set up both Jac Yarrow's Pippin and Alex Newell's Leading Player to get major laughs! Yarrow's Pippin, jaded by his adventures in the first half, was much funnier in the second half, developing a seriously dismissive attitude to Catherine, a yawning eyerolling boredom which escalated exponentially the sweeter she got, leading to bigger and bigger laughs. Newell's Leading Player also benefitted by playing opposite Jones, as the more Jones tottered around looking hapless, the more Newell could bark at her, the more hapless and helpless Jones became, allowing Newell to play ever-more uber-mean for maximum mirth. Even the orchestra made me laugh at one point, waving coloured wristbands about in mock celebration of Pippin's antics, a kind of parody of a Coldplay concert. All in all, 5 stars from me of wall to wall joy, without question.
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Post by Steve on Apr 30, 2024 18:35:02 GMT
Baffling. Lol. I'm sorry. *Checks Steve (Sondheim) mask is on.* It's such a good song. Don't let my baffling explanation put you off. There's still about another 20 performances, and you can experience it for yourself:) *Checks noone is looking and removes mask*
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Post by Steve on Apr 30, 2024 17:19:02 GMT
My second favourite song in "Opening Night" is 2. "Talk to Me:-" It is a song for the lonely and lost. It's a song that can only really be appreciated if you see the show, as Van Hove does a LOT with it, but as its likely now that most people will never see it, I'll describe it below. . . Spoilers follow. . . A 19 year old fan is run over, and Myrtle is shaken. She wants to have a drink with her ex-husband, Maurice, for old times' sake: "Talk to me I'm trying to tell you something Open up your ears And hear what I want to say There isn't anyone else but me here There isn't anyone else whose listening." (I think that bit was sung acapella). Maurice leaves Myrtle by herself, as he goes offstage to join the others for dinner. She's all alone. A high pitched wind instrument starts to ascend in up and down waves, as if approaching to comfort her. Then lower pitched alternating fast-played rumbling piano keys form a warm aural embrace around this lonely broken woman, as she sadly sings: "One More Dream That will not come true." A close-up of her face appears on the left of the big screen, looking right. Somewhere offstage, her unlikeable ex-husband is lonely too. His image now appears on the right of the big screen, looking left, as if he is looking at Myrtle. He sings: "One More Wish That has fallen through." In reality they are both alone, wishing they were talking. In the fantasy world of the screen, they ARE talking. They both realise they are alone, and now sing their loneliness passionately into the void: "Always waiting on a corner In New York somewhere Caught between the border Of hell and high water." That passion is a bridge to repeat the main phrase of the song: "There isn't anyone else but me here There isn't anyone else whose listening." The phrase has changed its meaning. When first sang, it meant the couple had the quiet to talk if they were willing. Now it means the only person they are talking to is themselves. Myrtle calls the hospital and discovers her fan has died. Now, in the foreground of the stage, the director, Manny (Hadley Fraser) and his wife (Amy Lennox) have their own argument. She wants to talk: "Talk to me I'm trying to tell you something Open up your ears And hear what I want to say There isn't anyone else but me here There isn't anyone else whose listening." He's not interested, and she starts insulting him. Now Sheridan Smith's Myrtle and her ex, Maurice, sing again of their loneliness: "One More Dream That will not come true One More Wish That has fallen through." But this time the director and his wife join them in a round of this chorus, four lonely people singing alone yet also singing together only through the magic of theatre. The bridge engulfs them all, singing together, loudly and more desperately, alone but together, yearning: "Always waiting on a corner In New York somewhere Caught between the border Of hell and high water. . ." Together they all sing the main phrase of the song: "There isn't anyone else but me here There isn't anyone else whose listening." The phrase has changed its meaning again. First, it was a request to talk privately, then it was a confession of loneliness, but, now, when all 4 characters make the same confession together, it shows the universality of loneliness, which, if everyone feels that way means that noone is truly alone at all. They are all just experiencing the human condition, which includes loneliness. The music and the lyrics and the direction are all in perfect sync for this one, which is why, in my opinion, it's a perfect theatrical moment.
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Post by Steve on Apr 30, 2024 11:22:40 GMT
There are only 2500 tickets available via the PwC deal so really you want to be no further than 1200 in the queue ideally. Each buyer can buy a pair of tickets. You don't need to be that high because many people will have different numbers on their phone and desktop, and will discard the number that is larger.
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Post by Steve on Apr 28, 2024 23:19:12 GMT
Steve (Rufus)- NEVER WRITE A MUSICAL AGAIN PLEASE. I could have made magic out of tragic if it wasn't for pesky Mr Barnaby. "I don’t know about you, but I intend to write a strongly worded letter to the White Star Line about all of this." I gotta gotta gotta gotta gotta. . . yes, my third favourite song from this show is 3. "Magic:-" This song is a jack-in-the-box of joyous and joyful advice about creativity, jumping poetically out of dark fears and feelings. As such, it's a great song to listen to if you want to create something. The song begins in downbeat musings to threatening, rumbling, descending musical notes: "I wouldn't say I was beautiful I try to be That was my hope I guess." But then, the brightest banjo-chirpy strings smash away all doubts: "You got to make magic Magic out of tragic We are the sunshine that defines the moon It takes a long time for the stars to get here Don't want to miss it In your dressing room." The metaphor of creative inspiration flying through space like stars, which we can only catch if we decide to leave our "dressing rooms," is simply gorgeous and gorgeously simple, much as the magic/tragic rhyme is memorably simple and simply memorable. But it's the fact that "we are sunshine" who can take hold of the doomy moody "moon" inside us that is truly inspiring! And its not enough to be told by your parents or teachers you can do it, you gotta show up (Carpe Diem): "So when they tell you Tell you that you're able Yeah when they tell you Tell you that you can Still you got to make magic Or you shouldn't even be here Wasting the precious Precious time at hand." The song is positive affirmations to the highest degree, as those chirpy strings and celebratory trumpets make stopping procrastination and actually doing sh*t sound like the most fun in the world lol! "My mother warned me about Broadway's light But now I'm here and I have never ever felt so right Yeah you gotta do it Yeah you gotta do it!" *Ignores the pesky theatre kids, puts the Steve (Sondheim) mask back on, and posts the sternly worded letter to the white star line* And the band played on. You gotta make magic. . .
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Post by Steve on Apr 28, 2024 10:48:48 GMT
My (hopefully helpful) spoilery countdown of my favourite songs in "Opening Night" continues. . . Number 4: "Trying To:-" In the early previews, this song ended the first half, deflating the tension of "Life is Thin." It's much better as the second half opener, a tender affirmation of the value of the individual, a way for Sheridan Smith's Myrtle to explain herself and to rebuild herself. It's called "Trying to" because it's more about struggle than success. It's about the difficulty of knowing who we are, who we want to be, and "trying to" be better versions of both. Functionally, Myrtle is "trying to" get to grips with her part in the play within the play, but Wainwright goes much deeper: "I'm just trying to break free Into some reality." It's like an existential version of Queen's "I want to break free." The music, however, is the opposite of Queen's shoutiness, but rather is a lullaby, whereby it gently rocks the listener from side to side, as if in a cradle. It is saying it's ok to not be ok, to be "trying," even if you don't know how. Ostensibly, Myrtle's tenderness is toward the character she is playing when she sings "Yes though she may Not be me She is still A somebody." But in reality, she is singing about getting older, no longer recognising either the younger, or posited older version of herself, as herself. She is singing about the constant morphing of identity. She knows she is worthwhile, "a somebody," but doesn't know who that is. The song soars in it's repetition, when the ensemble join, like in "Frere Jacques" in a round of it. This unleashes the true power of the song: it's not just Myrtle who has difficulty of knowing who they are and who they are supposed to be, at any given moment, but everybody. So simple, so touching, so profound.
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