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Post by Steve on Jun 25, 2016 23:00:05 GMT
I think STEVE was there this evening? In the front row stalls?! Parsley, Parsley, there's no one like Parsley, He's at so very many plays, yet spotted only sparsely. You may see him in the first half, if you see him anywhere — But in the play's second half, Parsley's not there! I regretted buying the ticket the moment the line flubs started happening, and wished I went next week instead, but when I trialed the £10 Barclays tickets two weeks ago, and got offered front facing stalls, I couldn't resist. Incidentally, I believe Ken Stott flubbed his lines playing the same part at the Almeida press night years ago. Apparently Brian Friel was none too happy, as his words are everything to him, so Stephen Dillane had better get some practice in. I think it's a mesmerising play, but line flubs throw you right out of it, and the hypnotic intensity of those poetic words is lost. Anyway, it's too early in previews to moan, so what I will highlight is that Ron Cook is giving one of his best performances in this. He's absolutely wonderful, blunt, forceful and hilariously funny! This is a play of 4 monologues. At present, the first and fourth, by Dillane, need work. The second, by Gina McKee is dreamy, sad and mesmeric. But that third monologue by Cook is the absolute bees knees. Obviously, this play can't work as it should if all 4 monologues are not tip top because the Rashomon-like structure requires complete concentration on all 4, combining the action of each in your mind to build up a full picture of the events that each of the monologues describe. So for now, at this early preview, the only thing I'm genuinely over the moon about is Ron Cook. I will consider going again later in the run, depending on the word of others, as tonight, this just didn't cohere for me. In fact, the audience didn't even realise when the play had finished at fade out, and noone started clapping until the lights came back on, and all the actors returned to take their bows. Needless to say, the actors did not come back out a second time.
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Post by Steve on Jun 24, 2016 10:29:15 GMT
At least artists will be inspired by this.
Artists are always inspired in tough times.
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Post by Steve on Jun 24, 2016 10:21:52 GMT
I can't let Europe go. I can't. There must be some way to bring Europe back. Oh, I can't think about this now! I'll go crazy if I do! I'll think about it tomorrow. But I must think about it. I must think about it. . . I'll think of some way to get Europe back. After all... tomorrow is another day!
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Post by Steve on Jun 23, 2016 10:08:30 GMT
You spoilt every other detail of Wild. No, I haven't. I haven't revealed who Andrew's questioners are, who they each are working for, what their agendas are, or whether they are working together. I haven't revealed what they do to him. I have simply said that from the set-up (alone, in a Russian hotel room, with no life left), it doesn't matter to me what they do. He starts out with nothing to lose, so if they do nothing to him, it is boring; and if they do terrible things, it is undramatic torture porn. I am saying "Who cares?" either way. I have revealed one thing that Bartlett is trying to say, but Bartlett is saying a million things, and it's hardly news that google and facebook spy on us. If you want to know much much more, read Billington's review. And HG, if you really want to know nothing at all about plays, a message board about plays might not be the smartest place to hang out. That said, I do hope you keep torturing us all, as it's certainly more dramatic than the play lol.
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Post by Steve on Jun 23, 2016 8:05:02 GMT
Please Can you Do a detailed spoiler for me On the ending and set etc. I am not seeing until next week and am impatient! As a people pleaser, I want to do as you ask. But no, in this case, that would be wrong. Not only would other people be tempted to click on that spoiler, and ruin the surprise for themselves, but I want you to have the surprise. No spoiler can have the impact of seeing the the ending for yourself, but it will certainly ruin it for you. And I don't want to give you an excuse not to go, either, as this show is bound to crop up every time someone starts a "Best coups de theatre" thread, and as a connoisseur of theatre, you need to have seen it for yourself. If by the end of the run, you say you still haven't seen it, I promise I will spoil it for you then.
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Post by Steve on Jun 22, 2016 23:29:40 GMT
Bartlett has great topical ideas once again, but this time he has no dramatic vehicle to express them, save, that is, for his wonderful coup de theatre at the end. In fact, the coup de theatre tells the story in and of itself, so this could be reduced to one of those punchy 10 minute plays that Caryl Churchill is specialising in these days, without too much loss. The reason this play is singularly undramatic is that the Edward Snowden character, Andrew (played sympathetically by Jack Farthing) starts off at an all time low: he has betrayed the US Government, and he's holed up in a hotel room in Russia, isolated and alone, unable to speak the language and at the mercy of his handlers. So when we meet his handlers, played by a stubbornly insincere black leather jacket and mini-skirt wearing Caoilfhionn Dunne, and a severe and sincere suit-wearing John Mackay, they already have him at their mercy. No matter how much they needle him, we are never under any illusion that he has any power to resist whatever happens. All three actors are excellent, in my view, but they are all trapped by dramatic inertia. Like Bull, this is a threehander, in which two savvy people poke and prod at a less savvy person, but in that play, the latter chap had everything to lose, which is why it was so gripping, whereas in this play, Farthing's Andrew has already lost everything that matters. Bartlett typically has loads to say about the surveillance society we are living in, as we happily tell Google and Facebook, and hence the Security Services, everything about ourselves willingly, which, suggests Bartlett, makes Andrew's (aka Edward Snowden's) revelations redundant. But it's all "tell," and no "show," for the most part, because of the essentially undramatic set-up. All the "show" comes at the end, with that coup de theatre, and it's SO good that the production is close to unmissable! 3 and a half stars (one of those stars is purely for the coup de theatre, it's concept and it's execution).
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Post by Steve on Jun 22, 2016 23:05:18 GMT
I saw one of the last performances of this. I liked the music, but the lead character was pimping out underage girls to rich men, and the whiny book indicated we were supposed to feel sorry for him. Fail!
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Post by Steve on Jun 20, 2016 16:55:33 GMT
OK Steve, I've booked for this today based upon your message. If it's rubbish I'll be hunting you down like a dateless Taylor Swift. I'm terrified. When Taylor Swift had a fiancee, she still had time to corner La Hiddleston (that's me trying to be young like you, and failing) at a ball, so dateless, I can't even imagine. . ! Hope you enjoy the play, and that you took Baemax's seating advice (above), but that if you didn't, you try to focus on the play and not whatever seventh level of hell seat you are sitting/standing in. Until I know the result, I'm in hiding.
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Post by Steve on Jun 19, 2016 23:24:10 GMT
Saw this Saturday matinee, and adored this show! It's pure unadulterated love! I haven't seen that many Kneehigh shows, 3 previous ones I think, "Brief Encounter," "Umbrellas of Cherbourg" and the revival of "The Red Shoes." I liked all those shows, but this one is better, by far, for me. In "Brief Encounter," there was a mock certification that stated it was "certified suitable for incurable romantics," or something cutesy like that, and if I have any qualms about recommending this show, it is that if you are completely burned out on romance, bear in mind that that certification applies to this show in spades. It the story of Marc Chagall and Bella Rosenfeld, of the romance between a painter and a writer, who became husband and wife, lived through the Russian revolution, and who escaped the pogroms and Nazis that decimated the lives of almost everyone in their idyllic shtetl in Vitebsk in the Russian Empire, where they came from. But this show is unique, to my experience of shows that touch on such horrific subject matter, in it's focus and reflection of the optimistic and loving worldview of it's characters. Chagall was known for painting himself and his love flying in the air over Vitebsk, of paintings in which he and his wife would simply lift off from the ground and float through the air in their kitchen on a cushion of love. Chagall resembles his contemporary Charlie Chaplin, Rosenfeld resembles Louise Brooks, but their love for each other and everything around them is more fantastical and romantic than anything their doppelgangers ever commited to celluloid. The use of buoyant Yiddish-inflected music, singing and dancing, is so judicious that I feel these are the most loving and loveable characters I have ever seen on stage. Marc Antolin and Audrey Brisson are divine as the Chagalls. Emma Rice includes in their story just enough of the horrors these two lived through to nail two points: (1) Life can be terrible, but (2) it is love that makes it so special and worthwhile. Absolutely terrific, but bear in mind that "certification." 5 stars NB: If you can't see this show, there's a beautiful 4 minute youtube video that gives a flavour of the love the Chagalls had for one another:
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Karagula
Jun 18, 2016 14:45:35 GMT
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Post by Steve on Jun 18, 2016 14:45:35 GMT
It's got a terrible review by the Telegraph in which they ask, is this the worst play of 2016. And Aleks Sierz ends his theartsdesk review by saying it may well be his theatre event of the year. A Marmite show! It's less a marmite show, more of a homework show. No doubt Sierz received a press pack with a playtext, programme, pr notes and whatnot, then diligently did his homework to discover what the heck was going on. Parsley, Joel, Steve2 and myself hadn't a blind clue. Some critic or other said that there were 50 characters played by 9 people. Only way the critic could know that is doing her homework. If that's the case, each actor played 5 or 6 characters. We poor viewers who hadn't been set homework couldn't tell what was going on. Poor Joel and Steve2 begged me to explain what I could, and I tried my best, but my best wasn't good enough. Ridley is a genius, but this work is not audience friendly. To fully understand the show, you need to do homework, a LOT of it. It's a homework show. I respect Cavendish for refusing to do the homework, and approaching the show like us hoi polloi. The reviewers who did their homework are like experts, and their reviews are unlikely to reflect the experience of most people.
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Post by Steve on Jun 18, 2016 13:01:49 GMT
I'm working on it, Parsley. There is too much "generosity" about. Give me a ticket for it and send me to Meanness school, where I can take "Talk to the hand" lessons. I hope I don't start shaking hands or clapping hands, as I'm like that. Anyhoo, Old Parsley used to advocate making your own mind up, and never trusting the critics. New Parsley thinks you're "a Tw*t" if you're out of "the consensus." What happened to Old Parsley? Steve, never get more mean! There’s a real pleasure in knowing that there are people in this world who almost never can give one star, who seem to feel real displeasure at stooping as low as two, and who tend to be able to find that one, teeny morsel of good in the worst shows in town, a needle of goodness in the pooey haystack of the theatre we all too often see. Your levels of analysis are something to be truly envied, but it’s even nicer to have your niceness around! In fact, when did you last give one star?
Also, how did you and Parsley spot each other at the thing? When Parsley enters a theatre, I assume storm clouds gather in a foyer, dogs bark in warning, and those in the cheap seats chant Oh Fortuna, which may be a giveaway. Or I imagine eyes across a crowded room, yin and yang... Anywho, genuinely curious what gave you away.
Ha ha, no storm clouds whatsoever. I made the mistake of thinking Parsley was preceded by storm clouds and Oh Fortuna once, so mistook the most miserable man in the room for him at a previous show. Then, at another show, I mistook at a gentle chap with matinee idol looks and good cheer for Parsley. I'm fact, Parsley has the air of an immensely tall bespectacled "nattily-dressed" (to quote Foxa) academic. I had been chatting to two average sized blokes about what Philip Ridleys they had seen, when a bespectacled chap loomed up in the queue behind them, almost too tall to comfortably fit inside the room. I presumed him to have South Asian ancestors, though his sari-wearing posse were conspicuously absent, but given his confident bearing, an academic swagger that suggested he had six or seven phds, I thought here is Parsley, time to collect my five pounds! So as not to be rude to Joel and Steve 2, who I had been chatting to for 15 minutes, I presumptuously said "here's a man who knows all about Philip Ridley," to invite Parsley into the conversation, and we took it from there. . So "who pays me my five pounds?" is what I want to know!?
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Post by Steve on Jun 18, 2016 12:32:22 GMT
I'll probably post more about this later, but I'd definitely recommend. Parsley, the texts were on sale and the running time is long. It was the first preview so started a bit late, probably about 8 p.m. and we didn't get out until about 10.40. But it is really interesting, frustrating at times, but I loved a lot of the acting - detailed, believable, nuanced. It's a wonderful role for Alec Newman (younger board members will remember him as the headteacher for a couple of series of 'Waterloo Road') and he grabs it with both fists. It was in very good shape for a first preview. Besides Newman I also thought Susan Stanley, Leah Whitaker and Ony Uhiara were all great. A seating tip: don't bother queuing up to get the best seats - it is traverse staging with almost pew-like benches on two sides and they ask that you fill in from the end. I was fine about a quarter of the way down the front row, but there were quite a few complaints from the people further along (whose seats were also, oddly, lower than the rest of the row.) The pew/benches are also hard to get in and out of - a couple of older women with canes took to good-naturedly throwing their legs up onto the seats so people could get by. Hope you enjoy it. Hate the Fox report, love the Foxa report. Hope there is more to come, especially as Hampstead Downstairs doesn't review, so the Foxa Report is extra newsworthy. . . unlike the infuriating Fox Report, which is never anything but fog and propaganda lol.
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Post by Steve on Jun 18, 2016 12:27:44 GMT
What is lost in mystery and poetry is more than made up for by drama and truthtelling! Fantastic! Yes, that does seem to be the intention but personally I missed the "mystery and poetry" of The Deep Blue Sea which is like a shadow play where you experience characters and are perpetually reminded and fascinated by the indistinct realities behind the screen. It was very well produced and acted but surprisingly shallow because there was no subtext, just text. At the curtain, Paul Keating seemed emotionally drained and affected but I wasn't really and that was despite the excellent production and acting, and because this play just presents an historical incident with none of the sense of momentous reality lying behind which cannot be directly expressed that is The Deep Blue Sea. Reflecting on the evening afterwards, I focused on the incidental characters who remain in shadow in Kenny Morgan and who do still work here in the Rattigan manner. Especially Dafydd Lloyd, the neighbour working at the Admiralty who lives with a woman he says is his sister and seems perhaps too persistently determined to allow Kenny into his life with the open offer to come to his rooms to talk at any time. And also Mrs Simpson and Mr Ritter who, I think, remain as in the Rattigan play (which I haven't seen recently). Yes to all that. I think what must be avoided is to deduce that we know what Rattigan meant by his play, to assume that he couldn't express it because of the times, and to conclude that Kenny Morgan is better for having been written now. In one way, "The Deep Blue Sea" is the opposite of this play. Spoilers follow. . . Rattigan and Lennox are both pragmatic and earthy characters, in tune with their times, while Kenny Morgan, by contrast, is dreamy, romantic and ethereal. But in "The Deep Blue Sea," Hester is the earthy character, while her husband and lover are the ethereal characters, trapped by, respectively, repression (possibly latent homosexuality) and war trauma into being unable to fully express themselves. It is the fully emotional and sexual Hester, who, like Madame Bovary finds herself adrift in a strange mysterious and repressive world.
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Post by Steve on Jun 17, 2016 23:29:11 GMT
Managed to get a ticket at the last minute to see this tonight. Very glad I did. Thanks to TheatreDust for recommending it, and Mallardo for comparing it favourably to "The Deep Blue Sea," which is what pushed me into making the effort! Of course, the first act, for the most part, IS "The Deep Blue Sea," with Hester substituted by Kenny. Incidents and lines are copied wholesale, which would absolutely constitute copyright infringement had the whole project not been written at the behest of the Rattigan estate. The most fascinating thing about that first act is that it is completely different, despite being exactly the same. All the poetry of the Rattigan, all the fathomless mystery of human relations is gone. Now everything makes perfect sense, a handle can be grasped around every character, motivations are understandable in an almost banal way: far from reflecting the depths of the deep blue sea, this is a very predictable and obvious love triangle, a shallow sea indeed. And yet the second act takes this triangle, and aided by terrific turns by Simon Dutton (Rattigan), Pierro Niel-Mee (Lennox, the cruel thoughtless lover) and Paul Keating (towering as the tortured title character), it becomes both a tense thriller regarding what will transpire, as well as a brilliant historical document about the horrors of criminalising homosexuality. What is lost in mystery and poetry is more than made up for by drama and truthtelling! Fantastic! 4 stars
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Post by Steve on Jun 13, 2016 23:22:55 GMT
Did you last until the end? Parsley, yes, just got home now. Nice to meet you. At least I had those other chaps to chat with in the interval lol. It ended at 11pm. Baemax will be over the moon. For those who want to know what this is like, think "Planet of the Apes 2," the one where mutated humans with telepathy worship missiles. What is this play about, you may ask? Well, Mareka (ie America, and if you don't guess it right away, they do American accents to make sure you do) is a land of milkshakes and mind control, where an infantilised fattened populace parrot platitudes and religious dogma, unaware that their masters really rule over them with fear and the gun. Ridley's intention is to create an epic story of resistance to Mareka, which reveals not only the phony origins of religion and the hypocrisy of the nation state, but also the cyclical nature of violence and history. However, his vehicle resembles the science fiction of Dr Who, without the Doctor and his companions for rooting interest. Worse, the doubling of actors, in this production at The Styx, makes it difficult to follow the very few distinctive characters that you might care about. Truthfully, you could watch some old Dr Who Tom Baker episodes, for example, "The Face of Evil," and learn the much the same things as here, but with charismatic entertaining leads to guide you through the story. Ridley can and will write an effective takedown of America, religion, history and humanity one day, I'm sure. This isn't it. 2 stars
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Post by Steve on Jun 13, 2016 20:28:34 GMT
I love Philip Ridley very much, but this attempt to depict the power plays and myth-making that come together to form a corrupt religion, does not feel ready for an audience yet. At least not for this audience member anyway.
On the plus side, I met Parsley. I'm sure he left at the interval (now), and with good reason!
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Post by Steve on Jun 13, 2016 8:01:57 GMT
The acting is really excellent and the connections between the actors are first rate There are really distinct personalities Eisenberg is really outstanding and obviously inhabits his character So many little quips and tics In some ways it's a performance to rival Denise Gough and reminded me very much of the startling performance Tom Sturridge gave in Punk Rock Unfortunately there are these actors raring to go places in a plot and development that doesn't take them anywhere at all I am also unsure if it's a comedy or drama and the fact that I felt the need to try and categorise it rather than take it at face value exposes the weakness It's worth seeing for the acting but something significant is missing and I can't quite put my finger on it I also have to say the characters as a whole are quite babyish Who recalls whole stories from the age of 10 when they are in their late 20s Saw this Saturday matinee, and loved it. I agree with everything Parsley says above, so I won't bother to repeat it. What I will add is that: (1) Katie Brayben's understudy, Amani Zardoe, was excellent as Sarah, the obect of Eisenberg's Ben's desire. Brayben was at a wedding; (2) Jesse Eisenberg cries real tears early on, which is the only reason I can stomach the otherwise wholly phony positive ending. The tears were the clue that this egotistical cruel spoiled monster had a deep well of pain, which earned him enough empathy from me that I'm not completely begrudging him his ending, though I'm begruging it a little; (3) Eisenberg's characterisation, an entitled fantasist and liar, with sadomasochistic fantasies, neediness, arrogance, is so excellent that I dearly want to see this character in a play that has more of a plot. In this play, as is, he is like Sesame Street's answer to the question "Which of these kids is not like the others?" but is not really tested beyond that; (4) Kunal Nayar's flatmate is the nicest and most likeable guy ever to grace this earth, leaving me with warm palpitations all over, and he's funny too, since Eisenberg generously gives him better punchlines than he gives himself. I hope I meet someone like this one day. Extremely fun, if thin play, with terrific charactisations and comedy. 4 stars
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Post by Steve on Jun 13, 2016 7:28:28 GMT
Saw this Saturday night, and liked it, on account of some striking performances, despite the fact that the play has lost most of it's comedy, and all of it's cutting edge, due to the passage of time. There is simply nothing surprising, or funny, any more, about the fact that women can be smarter and more capable than men. There is certainly something sad about the fact it was once surprising and funny, but that's another thing. Therefore, the only way to make anything of this play is to show how this particular woman is smarter and more capable than this particular man. This puts undue importance on the actors imbuing each character with individuality. Unsurprisingly, during the first act, there were very few laughs, as the characters had not yet been defined, and the situations in the play, which had once been funny, were no longer funny. However, during the second act, the audience began to laugh loud and often, as the director and actors had convinced them that these characters were worth investing in, and the power plays between them were somewhat dramatic. I say somewhat dramatic, because in a sense, there is no drama in this play. Naomi Frederick's Maggie Hobson is as capable of running rings, round Martin's Shaw's Henry Hobson and Bryan Dick's Willie Mossop, as James Bond is capable with a gun, or as Mel Brooks is with a one-liner. There is simply no drama there, it's a foregone conclusion what is going to happen. A foregone conclusion may not be dramatic, but it can definitely be funny, with each manifestation of that foregone conclusion presented as a variety of different and escalating punchlines to the joke on foolish, recalcitrant Henry Hobson's obstinacy, and on wimpy Willie Mossop's shrunken masculinity. Luckily, Martin Shaw gives great northern goat, Bryan Dick gives great retiring wimp, and above all, Naomi Frederick gives a great confident portrayal of a savvy woman who knows her strengths, knows the flaws of these men, and can compassionately manipulate all and sundry. That she can do so without alienating the audience is to her credit, as successfully manipulating other people can come off as arrogant, and she never does. This was a well-acted, and interesting evening of theatre, showing how a tired old play can be infused with a new lease of life. 3 and a half stars NB: If Hobson's Choice means you have only one decent option, that can be as true offstage as on. When leaving a theatre, if you are in the centre of a row, no matter how much of a rush you are in, it is Hobson's Choice that you trudge at a funereal pace, one foot at a time, behind people who are walking slower than snails. Otherwise is the path to misery. Mr. Church, the director of the play, had been making copious notes on the production, still in previews at the Vaudeville, from the centre of his row. When he got up to leave, he had the frenetic hurry of a working man trapped by leisured dawdlers. He clutched at the air with clawed hands in frustration, but try as he might, he could not overtake the funeral march. As he reached the side aisle, he suddenly boldly bolted for a sliver between the exiting snails, tripped over a woman's foot, struggling to regain his footing. "In a hurry, are you?" growled an enormous tall thin man, affronted. An angry exchange continued between Church and the giant for some thirty seconds, which I could not hear, six people behind them in the queue, but finally Church erupted with the exclamation "ARE YOU THREATENING ME!?" The giant loomed over Church deliberately, pressing his face to within an inch of the smaller man, but Church fortunately seized an opportunity, and darted away through an entire empty row of chairs to join the tortoises on the other side of the theatre. If there's one thing worse than a slow queue, it's a slow and scary queue. So next time you leave the theatre in a hurry, just don't. That's Hobson's Choice.
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Post by Steve on Jun 13, 2016 6:37:41 GMT
one has to wonder at your generosity I'm working on it, Parsley. There is too much "generosity" about. Give me a ticket for it and send me to Meanness school, where I can take "Talk to the hand" lessons. I hope I don't start shaking hands or clapping hands, as I'm like that. Anyhoo, Old Parsley used to advocate making your own mind up, and never trusting the critics. New Parsley thinks you're "a Tw*t" if you're out of "the consensus." What happened to Old Parsley?
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Post by Steve on Jun 13, 2016 6:21:55 GMT
Saw this yesterday, and liked it. It's like a three course meal of Phaedra myths that gives you indigestion, but which nonetheless satiated a hunger. In a way, it's like one of those deals, where you got suckered into eating too much because if you buy the main meal, you get appetisers and desert for free. Some spoilers follow. . . The main meal is Sarah Kane's "Phaedra's Love," which is undoubtedly a sly comedy, in the guise of a terrible tragedy. For me, the dealing with Kane was surefooted, with bass notes indolently beating a time, like a metronome, as adults behave like spoiled teenagers, and teenagers behave like spoiled teenagers, and everyone kills everybody. The chiming notes sound, for the most part, like a monotonous and unvaried version of John Barry's theme from "On Her Majesty's Secret Service," to which Isabelle Huppert's lustful, needy and immature Phaedra makes slow dull love, in words and deeds, to Andrzej Chyra's degenerate Hippolytus. Chyra looks like Tim Minchin at his most degraded and debauched, and Huppert sounds like a dimwitted Kathy Burke comedy character, and I found myself both highly amused, as well as sad about love's limitations, as intended. The starters were a smorgasbord of hor d'oeuvres that made no sense together, but which you were forced to have one of each anyway: First, there was a spiderwoman dancer, Rosalba Torres Guerrero, dressed like a Las Vegas showgirl, but moving like a praying mantis, or sometimes like a shaggy dog trying to shake fleas out of her hair. She had that Japanese horror movie way of inflecting ordinary movements with ticks, suddenly crawling on her hands and knees, more insect than human. I think she was a metaphor for the creepiness of love, beneath an attractive surface, but you could tell me anything and I'd believe you. A mesmerising dancer though; Second, there was some plaintive arab wailing, which seemed to be intended to summon up the dawn of civilisation, and to a degree summoned up the dawn of civilisation, and to another degree, made me feel like I was in a Turkish restaurant. This felt appropriate since the whole experience was analogous to a meal; Third, there was Isabelle Huppert giving us the birth of civilisation through period pains; Fourth, there was Isabelle Huppert giving us the birth of civilisation, as Aphrodite, telling us that all our urbane pleasure-pursuing society came from her "chatte." Before this play, I didn't know the French version of the c-word, so I learned something, and I'm gratified it still begins with "c," so it will be easy to remember, and even if you forget, you can still say "c-word" in France; Fifth, there was Isabelle Huppert as Phaedra, crying out in love pangs inflicted by the depths of hell. How all of the above fit together, I'll never know, but I'm glad I had a nibble of each. It didn't stop at a nibble. The desert, for me, was delicious, a comedy sketch about an arrogant Professor, Elizabeth Costello, derived from a work by J. M. Coetzee, with a topping of some of the best naturalistic acting ever. Huppert plays Costello, a woman who has the audacity of telling us how and what Gods think and feel, with one hundred percent confidence, interviewed by a fawning Mark Shenton type, played once again by Andrzej Chyra. I love skits about academics who claim to know things they can't possibly know, and I love skits about interviewers who really only care about impressing the interviewee, but can't, and are left sweating and beaming in embarrassment. So I found myself laughing out loud at all this. Of course, the sketch takes a twist when it links to Phaedra, and at that point Huppert performs some of the most wonderful acting I've seen all year. Overall, I am suffering severe indigestion, as I can't make head or tail of the work as a whole, but oh the ingerdients. The Spiderwoman, the Sarah Kane, the Arab singing, but most of all, the acting: Isabelle Huppert is a marvel: her comedy acting, her histrionic acting, her naturalistic acting. If she wasn't 63, having performed in a billion movies, dating back as far back as Bertrand Blier's "Les Valseuses" in the seventies, you'd think she'd orchestrated the most magnificent audition piece. She really is superb. In his dual roles as Hippolytus and the Interviewer, I also fell in love with Andrzej Chyra, who can be as effortlessly cruel, as he can be effortfully embarrassing. Overall, this is "art" theatre of a kind you can only enjoy if you have a taste for it. I found I definitely did. 4 stars
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Post by Steve on Jun 10, 2016 23:36:21 GMT
Saw this tonight, and liked alot of it! For me, it's a better production of Bond than the National's "Cleansed" was of Sarah Kane.
What I mean by this is that violence for both Bond and Kane emerges from emotion, from relatable human expression, despair in the case of Bond, love in the case of Kane.
But in the programatic and almost parodic violence of the recent production of "Cleansed," I could detect little love, little of the core of Kane's play, which was manipulated into a boring orgy of violence without a beating heart.
In "Dea," by contrast, every character feels recognisably human, driven by relatable passions, even whilst the most grotesque acts of violence are perpetrated. Consequently, when the production works, it feels like a cocktail of truth, rather than one of empty didacticism.
It didn't always work for me, hampered by some variable acting and some insistent cliches. The play is in three acts, separated by two intervals, with each act better than the last. The structure is similar to "Big and Small (Gross und Klein)" by Botho Strauss, in which a character meanders through different landscapes and milieus, finding rejection and despair. But where Strauss' Lotte, all superego, (played by Cate Blanchett at the Barbican) bore her suffering with grace, Bond's Dea, all id, (played by Helen Bang) resorts to violence.
Some spoilers follow. . .
In the first act landscape of "Home," we start where Euripides' play ended, with Dea smothering her children. Bond establishes a cliched pattern of how the id asserts itself to solve psychic stress: unhappy men rape people, unhappy women kill people. Dea's unhappiness with her husband leads her to kill her children, his unhappy reaction is to rape her, which leads to her having more children, one of whom is unhappy with her, growing up, so rapes her, leaving her unhappy with him, so. . . well, you can guess. This act failed to surprise, but Bond did establish the point that violence breeds violence;
In Act 2, Dea wanders into a landscape of "war." Here our 30 strong audience was depleted when a troupe of 5 twenty something females, gasping and covering their eyes, left en-masse after witnessing scenes of gang-rape and full frontal male masturbation of flaccid penises. Inspired by Abu Graib and the like, Bond suggested rape might be elevated into an "official" male response to "terrorism," a way of defiling the religious beliefs of "the enemy;"
It was in Act 3, however, in which Dea becomes a mad recluse in an "apocalyptic" landscape, like Shakespeare's "Timon of Athens," that the production came fully alive. A two-hander between two excellent actors, Helen Bang's Dea, carrying the dismembered head of her son, like Bertie Carvel's Agave in the Almeida's "Bakkhai," is joined in her blown-out caravan by David Clayton's equally damaged soldier deserter, Cliff, who once took orders from that same disembodied head. The two begin to trade personas as their psyches fracture. The resulting portrait of madness, two victims, both murderers, both lost, both found, together alone, made for an act so disturbing and desolate, that Bond's mishmash of Greek tragedy, Shakespeare and himself at last felt distinctive and worthwhile.
3 stars
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Post by Steve on Jun 10, 2016 22:07:56 GMT
I think the producers have handled this right, both from their own financial perspective (promoting the understudy as someone worth seeing), and in the way they have treated Sheridan Smith (not hiring a star replacement, leaving the door open for Smith to return, and making it clear that they wish for that to happen).
Having only seen the show at the Menier, I loved both actresses, though it was Sheridan Smith's star quality that lifted the show to a 5 star level for me, her comedic instincts and ability to relate to an audience as sharp as Fanny Brice's once were.
I really hope Sheridan Smith is able to recover from her suffering, and I wish her the best.
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Post by Steve on Jun 10, 2016 7:40:28 GMT
Sorry to hear that Abby. I had a bit more luck. I basketed tickets for three productions immediately, but then got told I'd have to wait an hour to book the platform I wanted. However, if I waited the hour for the platform, the other tickets would time out, so I did a runner, checked out and paid for the three productions, and I'll return tonight for the platform. Good luck everyone!
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Post by Steve on Jun 9, 2016 9:05:05 GMT
What I want to know is, what does this really mean:
"We are experiencing technical difficulties with online booking"?
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Post by Steve on Jun 9, 2016 8:40:16 GMT
If you all had sense You would boycott and stop donating You are actually PAYING them in order to book ahead And allowing them to f*** you about Says the man whose priority is so high, you probably already have complimentary tickets for every production. Heck, I bet this whole breakdown is cos you decided to go on a different day, so they had to kick us off while you decide what alterations you want to make lol. Oh Parsley, have mercy on us cheapskates chasing £15 tickets!
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Post by Steve on Jun 9, 2016 8:33:00 GMT
The NT has now tweeted that they're suspending priority booking all together while they fix the website, and will be in touch with members when (if) it's working again. There's clearly a market out there for some aspiring software designer to create theatre websites that can actually cope with people trying to *gasp!* book tickets. Or why not just put the old system back, which worked perfectly. "We are experiencing technical difficulties with online booking. We have taken the decision to suspend Priority booking for the new season this morning: we will contact all members by email to let them know the new date and time when Priority Booking will re-open. Please accept our sincere apologies for the frustration and inconvenience. We are working to resolve the problems as quickly as possible." That's the message I got, after the following: (1) Getting tickets in basket, and having basket completely emptied; (2) Seeing buy pages with two maps, and finding out you have to select the same seat on both maps to basket it; (3) Selecting tickets and being told to try again because they failed to basket, only to find 16 tickets in my basket; (4) Inability to remove any tickets from the basket; (5) Inability to see any pages whatsoever; (6) Queue-it system that stalls and won't move, saying there's 171 people ahead, no matter what, even though the man is walking. For goodness' sake, put the old system back! Put it back. Put it back! Put it back!
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Post by Steve on Jun 7, 2016 22:45:00 GMT
House was sold out, at a median and majority ticket price of £75, with £20 tickets in the Gods, and £125 tickets at the very front. I expect the house was sold out on the promise of Judi Dench reprising "Send in the Clowns," as there was a huge disappointed gasp at the announcement of her non-appearance, but I think the show itself, particularly the second half, cheered up the disappointed punters. I really enjoyed the evening, the appearance of Dame Maggie Smith was a wonderful surprise and definitely the highlight for me. I think everyone left the theatre smiling and I loved the music from Oopmah Brass who were lots of fun. Steve, do you take notes at the interval or do you just have an excellent memory?! You give us such wonderfully detailed reports whereas I sometimes leave a theatre struggling to remember anything!! I had a £5 programme, so when I got home, I stared at the pictures and willed myself to remember. While I still could. It helped that I wasn't drinking. I thought noone else would bother to review it, so it would be useful in bringing in some of the people who were there to this board, if they google it to reminisce. Let them see how much better this board is than the old prison we used to operate in, where we were locked out of google and noone else could join or even see what we were saying, controlled by masters who held their noses at the very thought of us lol.
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Post by Steve on Jun 7, 2016 22:30:03 GMT
What? There are other, non-Harry Potter shows in London? Don't worry. Richard III looks a heck of a lot like Voldemort!
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Post by Steve on Jun 7, 2016 9:05:03 GMT
Where were you sitting, if I may ask? I was in the middle stalls, row M, next to the good-looking brunette. . . I'm even more than usually interested in your take because mine was unfortunately affected by having seen Kenny Morgan at the Arcola So everything for me was coloured by that. And let me say it here - I think the story works better with a male protagonist, the way it happened in "real life". Or at least it worked better for me at the Arcola with Paul Keating in the lead. But, IMO, the stakes should have been higher in the sense that Freddie, Hester's younger lover and the source of her pain, should be much more of a cad. Tom Burke, another wonderful actor, was just loo likeable for me. Mallardo, I have a membership and am addicted to early-booking the £15 seats at the front of the Lyttelton, preferably Row A, as rows B and C aren't raked. On a sidenote, in hindsight, I might have run into Parsley (not wearing his name badge) on Row A for "Three Days in The Country," when I "lost" my bottle of water, and a gently spoken tall charmer reassured me I wasn't embarrassing myself by getting flustered about it (it was in my bag). He had every bit the bearing of a Doctor, and none of the fierceness Parsley has on this board, so I like to think it was him lol. Unfortunately for me, I don't think I can manage a night for Kenny Morgan, which I want to see very much, neither being able to find a responsibility I can evade or a ticket I am willing to ditch. I do feel I am missing out. With regard to Tom Burke, I do agree his was not the most caddish reading of the role. Should you ever see Tom Hiddleston, in the 2011 film version, I think you'd find his dastardly interpretation more to your taste. However, in that film, Simon Russell Beale's Collyer, and his dreadful mother, who is created for and depicted in the film, are far less convincing than Peter Sullivan as someone Hester might have actually married. What I like about the Tom Burke interpretation is precisely that he is somewhat likeable, as that prevents us judging him, and makes us live with the implacability of circumstances and life in general, rather than having a villain to hiss at.
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Post by Steve on Jun 6, 2016 23:41:40 GMT
So JK Rowling doesn't like musicals. That's fine. She isn't telling anyone else not to like them, and she hasn't said there's anything wrong with them, just that she just doesn't like them herself. That's a matter of her taste, and there's nothing wrong with that. Of course, there may be some musicals, the magic of which she hasn't yet experienced, so she might change her mind one day. And that would be ok too.
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