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Theatre Reviews (lots) .....
The Little Mermaid (Churchill, Bromley)
Created for a ballet dance-school by its director, and danced by its students, this was a fun performance; so the lack of accomplishment didn't matter too much. (The fairly-expensive programme announced The Little Mermid on its glossy front-cover, which indicated a lack of accomplishment by the proof-reader too).
It was, I guess, interesting to see how the choreographer dealt with the 'dancing-with-a-fishtail-on' problem.
We sat in the midst of a sea of yummy-mummies, accompanied by swarms of eight-year-olds all disguised as princesses and eager to show-off their own ballet moves during the interval. Audience energy-levels were through the roof, and the target-demographic enjoyed it greatly, so I guess the performance was successful.
A marvellous recruitment opportunity for the ballet-school.
Mood Music (Old Vic)
We booked this for Rhys Ifans, but (for mysterious family reasons) got Ben Chaplin instead.
Actually he was brilliant. Horrible, but brilliant. He played Bernard, an artist-producer, who has arranged an American tour and an album for a young Dublin-born singer-songwriter, Cat (played by Seána Kerslake). However, he has taken full credit (and of course, royalties) for the hit-single which Cat claims to be their joint work. She sues; and thus involves lawyers (Neil Stuke and Kurt Egyiawan), as well as psychiatrists (Jemma Redgrave and Pip Carter) for each of them.
This is a distinguished cast, and between them the members outline and address issues like intellectual property, co-creation and, indeed, the act of creation itself. Sadly, it's a bit one-sided because Bernard is so unrelentingly horrible and arrogant; and Cat so naïve and exploited.
Still - there's a kind of resolution at the end, and maybe the promise of a creative future for a Cat who has risen from the ashes of that horrible, drugged-up, exploitative US tour. For Bernard, however, it will just be same-old same-old.
My Name is Lucy Barton (The Bridge)
A 90-minute solo redaction of the novel of the same name. I'm told that the novel was better!
It was, however, great to see Laura Linney in the flesh (we'd loved her in John Adams and The House of Mirth); and she evoked both invalid Lucy and her visiting mother with great dexterity.
Sea Wall (Old Vic)
A half-hour monologue by Andrew Scott. The place was packed. We couldn't hear some of the dialogue. His physical and vocal acting tropes that enthralled as Hamlet, here appeared tired and contrived.
Woe, for I love him dearly! HOWEVER the verdict was - not worth the hassle of a rush-hour train-journey on one of the stickiest evenings in the year so far.
Monogamy (Park Theatre)
A jolly comedy about tv kitchen goddesses and the state of marriage. Nice performances from everyone. It was great to see Patrick Ryecart (still gamely playing his one role of upper-crust philanderer/minor villain, which was even evidenced years ago when he played Romeo in the BBC's inaugural play of its great Shakespeare series); and Charlie Brooks (playing a different type of crazy-woman from her celebrated turn as Janine in Eastenders). Janie Dee led the company with great aplomb, but the standout performance came from Genevieve Gaunt as a mad, white-powder-using tv gopher.
I still haven't made it with reviews of the two most important pieces I've seen recently - Translations at the National, and Red at Wyndhams. I have more to say about both of these; and hopefully (if not completely stifled by the heat), I'll try to complete soon.
PS: One further reason why theatregoing is good for you - in this weather, most theatres (though not The Globe, obviously) are blissfully cool spaces!
Created for a ballet dance-school by its director, and danced by its students, this was a fun performance; so the lack of accomplishment didn't matter too much. (The fairly-expensive programme announced The Little Mermid on its glossy front-cover, which indicated a lack of accomplishment by the proof-reader too).
It was, I guess, interesting to see how the choreographer dealt with the 'dancing-with-a-fishtail-on' problem.
We sat in the midst of a sea of yummy-mummies, accompanied by swarms of eight-year-olds all disguised as princesses and eager to show-off their own ballet moves during the interval. Audience energy-levels were through the roof, and the target-demographic enjoyed it greatly, so I guess the performance was successful.
A marvellous recruitment opportunity for the ballet-school.
Mood Music (Old Vic)
We booked this for Rhys Ifans, but (for mysterious family reasons) got Ben Chaplin instead.
Actually he was brilliant. Horrible, but brilliant. He played Bernard, an artist-producer, who has arranged an American tour and an album for a young Dublin-born singer-songwriter, Cat (played by Seána Kerslake). However, he has taken full credit (and of course, royalties) for the hit-single which Cat claims to be their joint work. She sues; and thus involves lawyers (Neil Stuke and Kurt Egyiawan), as well as psychiatrists (Jemma Redgrave and Pip Carter) for each of them.
This is a distinguished cast, and between them the members outline and address issues like intellectual property, co-creation and, indeed, the act of creation itself. Sadly, it's a bit one-sided because Bernard is so unrelentingly horrible and arrogant; and Cat so naïve and exploited.
Still - there's a kind of resolution at the end, and maybe the promise of a creative future for a Cat who has risen from the ashes of that horrible, drugged-up, exploitative US tour. For Bernard, however, it will just be same-old same-old.
My Name is Lucy Barton (The Bridge)
A 90-minute solo redaction of the novel of the same name. I'm told that the novel was better!
It was, however, great to see Laura Linney in the flesh (we'd loved her in John Adams and The House of Mirth); and she evoked both invalid Lucy and her visiting mother with great dexterity.
Sea Wall (Old Vic)
A half-hour monologue by Andrew Scott. The place was packed. We couldn't hear some of the dialogue. His physical and vocal acting tropes that enthralled as Hamlet, here appeared tired and contrived.
Woe, for I love him dearly! HOWEVER the verdict was - not worth the hassle of a rush-hour train-journey on one of the stickiest evenings in the year so far.
Monogamy (Park Theatre)
A jolly comedy about tv kitchen goddesses and the state of marriage. Nice performances from everyone. It was great to see Patrick Ryecart (still gamely playing his one role of upper-crust philanderer/minor villain, which was even evidenced years ago when he played Romeo in the BBC's inaugural play of its great Shakespeare series); and Charlie Brooks (playing a different type of crazy-woman from her celebrated turn as Janine in Eastenders). Janie Dee led the company with great aplomb, but the standout performance came from Genevieve Gaunt as a mad, white-powder-using tv gopher.
I still haven't made it with reviews of the two most important pieces I've seen recently - Translations at the National, and Red at Wyndhams. I have more to say about both of these; and hopefully (if not completely stifled by the heat), I'll try to complete soon.
PS: One further reason why theatregoing is good for you - in this weather, most theatres (though not The Globe, obviously) are blissfully cool spaces!