Confessions of a Theatre Snob

Monday, October 30, 2006

Farewell to The Tank

If I knew how to locate pictures in the middle of the text, then that's where these would be, as it sort of spoils the narrative (!) to put them first, but, hey, I don't, so they're 'up front', so to speak.
Anyway, I got a new car on Friday, well, new to me, at least, so it was time to say goodbye to my little fiesta, known as 'The Tank', and I couldn't let it go without reflecting on some of its travels.
Its certainly put in the miles over the last 3 and a half years. I think the furthest reaches have been Cardiff, Swindon, Newmarket, and Cheltenham. I don't think I ever got further north in it than Newcastle. But its served me, and the ND, well, so here are a few memories:
The Radio Tour - The Tank's most memorable road trip, complete with the 'race' down the A1/M1. The signs, the posters, posing by the car, complete with flags (see above), everyone gathering round the car radio in Blackpool to listen to the interview, and then making Griffin pose next to the car in Blackpool (see above).

Nik and Coza 'testing' the suspension whilst ‘dancing’ to Steps outside Minster Radio

James clocking my ‘Wherever You Will Go’ poster in the Radio York Car Park, left in there from the Radio Tour

Nearly (but thankfully not quite) getting stuck in the mud at Danby Show

Another epic road trip - Whitby, to York, to Birmingham, to Liverpool and back to York - and Nik discovering that 'gummi bears stick to maps' on the journey from Birmingham to Liverpool.

Car park trauma in the Hill Street car park in Boro* (subsequent car park trauma at various locations, e.g. Manchester (the near lock in), Nottingham (another near lock in), Billingham, Sunderland (the actual lock in**))

The comedy value of topless pics of James ‘what’s he doing? He’s a f****** musician. Well, not anymore!'

Asking people to press the 'Emergency Tim button' when I get tired while driving - never known to fail yet.

Singing along to the JCS soundtrack on a crazy journey from Oxford to York

Nearly careering down a mountainside in Wales on the way back from Cardiff, with Corinne turning a delicate shade of green.

The winter journey from York to Peterborough, stopping to defrost every few miles, as the ice from the washers froze as it hit the screen.
Goodbye, little Tank. I hope you get treated gently for the rest of your life, as you deserve a bit of a rest

*which is etched on Corinne’s memory forever
**though actually, that one wasn't that traumatic

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Saturday, October 28, 2006

Mine Eyes Dazzle

Occasionally there’s a theatre production that blows your socks off, very occasionally there’s one that takes the shoes with it as well. And ‘The Duchess of Malfi’ at the West Yorkshire Playhouse was one of those.

It was the best production I’ve seen in a long time – ‘Stratford standard’ in my speak – possibly helped because most of the cast were veterans of either the RSC or the National, so that the language came across as clear and intelligible.

I loved it. The set was brilliant – glistening marble, but things were fraying at the edges and behind it something was rotten in the state of Malfi, as was revealed in Act 2. I wasn’t sure how a Jacobean play was going to work in the Quarry Theatre, but they used the space, and the wide stage very well. I think what also helped was being so close to the action – 5 rows from the front was just perfect.

What also helped was the fact that it was for me a relatively unfamiliar play. I’d only seen it once before (and now I check, that was 17 years ago, so it’s hardly surprising I’d forgotten a lot of the plot) so it was able to shock and surprise me in a way that Shakespeare, much as I love it, just can’t anymore. There were times when I was, quite literally, holding my breath. As horror piled on horror at the beginning of the second act, I was having to bit my lip to stop myself sobbing out loud. I’d forgotten that the Duchess dies in Act 4, and, without giving too much away* one of the theatrical effects was so brilliantly pulled off, I just believed it.

So, on to the performances. I loved Imogen Stubbs as the Duchess, and Sebastian Harcombe as Bosola, was less sure about Timothy Walker as Ferdinand in Act 1, but he made up for it in Act 2, and Guy Williams as the Cardinal was chilling (even though I found the portrayal of Julia’s death reminiscent of Episode 2 of Torchwood!)

It is a great play, with echoes of Hamlet (of course) and other Revenge Tragedies, but some of the lines sounded incredibly modern. I came out of the theatre absolutely hyper – if only I could have had a drink. If there was a stage door, I’d have stage doored – as it was, just before we left I told Imogen** how much I’d enjoyed it – I believe in giving feedback.

And all this is why I love theatre, and why film, and tv, for all it can be, can never really compare. Did I mention I loved it?

*ok, I’ve told you she dies, but then it’s Jacobean tragedy
** well, I did first see her on stage 21 years ago, so I think I can get away with first names.

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Sunday, October 22, 2006

The History Boys

I went to see this the other night – only the fourth time I’ve been to the cinema this year, as opposed to my 30-odd trips to the theatre, and, this film is an adaptation of a play I really want to see at the theatre – just missed it on the current tour, as it’s been in Bradford and Hull in the last month!

I did want to see the original National Theatre cast though, and that’s who are in the film. Maybe it was better to see the film first, as I usually have issues with film adaptations (or any adaptations really) As I now have a mental image of Cat heaving a huge sigh, I will add that yes, I know that they are different media, with different forms and conventions and therefore generate different responses.

To move on, I loved it. It was gentle, funny, and moving, and also had some interesting things to say about education, being pitched at the time (1983) when people were just starting to change the way the things were taught. The acting was excellent, once you’d got past the fact that none of the boys actually looked 18 (they’re been performing in the play or 3 years, and I think you can get away with more on stage). The one who did, and who I thought gave the best, and most moving, performance, was Samuel Barnett*, as Posner.

My favourite scene was one where he and Richard Griffiths as the old style teacher sat and discussed a Thomas Hardy poem, and the way that some writing can just strike a chord with you. It was, quite simply, beautiful.

*He’s from Whitby, you know – fancy that!

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Thursday, October 19, 2006

Musings

I've had lots of things in my head over the last few days that I was going to blog about, but haven't found the time to write about, because of, well, life, basically, so here's a quick round up of the things I didn't find time to expand on:
  1. My thoughts on the train journey I had through the pennines to Manchester on Monday, as we went through all the little industrial towns, along the side of the canals. The industrial history of England past your window.
  2. Just how much I loved the TV adaptation of Jane Eyre that finished last Sunday, which although it curtailed many of my favourite scenes from the book, capture the spirit of it, and the relationship perfectly, I thought. Still couldn't watch the mad woman though!
  3. How bizarre is it that someone can google 'why was theatres in shakespeares times nicknamed the wooden 'o', and end up at my blog! Looking at their other results, I'm not sure that any of them would have been much use either. Bizarre as it may seem, do these people ever think of looking in a book?!

That's all folks.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

The biggest blog in history

Today bloggers have been asked to record their day for posterity as one day in history by History Matters, so I have. Here's my account of my day

Tuesday 17 October 2006

What did I do today? Not very much really. I got up around 9 – I’ve got very lazy on days when I’m not working – had breakfast – two slices of toast, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to eat anything else till the evening as I had a hospital appointment in the afternoon. I’ve been dreading it, but actually couldn’t dread the actual day for too long, as I only opened the appointment letter yesterday. Yes, I know, I could have missed it, but I didn’t, and at least I only had last night, and today, to stress about it.

I did some ironing – oh, how I hate it, but the pile was so large it was threatening to fall off the chair. I then went out, first to Tescos for food – mainly cat food really, but I got some other bits as well, well, £15 worth anyway. Then on to Monks Cross, I went into Marks and Spencer, and then into Laura Ashley, which had a sale on. Oh dear. Well, my excuse was I needed to take my mind off the hospital, and I’m looking for something to wear to my friend’s birthday ‘do’ in December. I tried on quite a few things, and ended up with a black skirt, and a fitted silk top, both of which are ‘going out’ clothes – suitable for the theatre, or a meal out, at least. In my heart, I knew I didn’t need either of them, and it was mainly ‘comfort buying’.

On the way home I stopped at the Toyota Garage, and looked at some cars. I’ve arranged a test drive in a Yaris for Friday. I’m pretty sure I won’t get one though, as I found the salesman far too smarmy, and disliked his style of calling my by my name 6 times in the space of about 2 minutes.

Once back, I logged onto the computer for a while, and checked all the sites I regularly visit. Blogs of friends, a couple of fan sites and forums, The Stage, and checked my emails, dealing with a couple of work related ones. I was filling in time till I had to go out again,

My appointment wasn’t until 5.20pm, but I got there early, and was appalled at the price of car parking at the hospital - £2.60 for two hours (well, I was sure I’d be delayed). I was actually in, and out, by my original appointment time, so for once well done to the NHS. As I walked out I thought about the times I’d been to that hospital, as a visitor, and as a member of staff, as I used to work in the adjacent hospital. Some happy, and some very sad memories. I also remembered having a guided tour round it before it opened. It’s changed a lot, and had bits built onto it over the years.

As for my evening, well, it was just watching tv, and a bit of reading. There really wasn’t very much on, and I found myself watching an episode of Dr Who for about the 4th time, well, if there’s nothing else on, you can’t beat a bit of David Tennant. Later I watched an episode of ‘The Amazing Mrs Pritchard’ starring Jane Horrocks. It’s a drama series which is now about 3 episodes in, but this was the first I’d seen. It was quite good, a little quirky around the edges, and pretty unchallenging, but it was good to see some strong roles for actresses of a certain age.

So, that was it, my day –pretty ordinary and unexciting really.

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Friday, October 13, 2006

Cymbeline

The last time we saw Kneehigh Theatre Company*, there was partial nudity, trapezes, cross dressing, and fake vodka thrown over the front row of the audience. It’s fair to say that they’re known for their ‘off the wall’ approach.

So I wasn’t sure what to expect of their production of Cymbeline, a play which, it must be said, is proof of the saying that even Will had his off days.

It had only a nodding acquaintance with Shakespeare’s play, being almost entirely re-written, though keeping to the story, of a family separated and re-united, parents and children and loss and reconciliation.

Cymbeline has one of the most convoluted plots in the canon – you just try and explain it to someone, as I did, and you’ll soon find yourself in knots. It’s a mish-mash of themes from other, and greater, plays. A bit of Othello, a bit of ‘As You’, a bit of the Roman plays, it’s sort of pastoral, historical, comical, fantastical.

If I had to sum up the production, I would say it was above all ‘theatrical’. What does that mean? Well to me it meant using all sorts of theatre techniques to get the story across. Music, dramatic effects (the battle played out with toy soldiers being a particular highlight), effective use of a metal cage structure as the principal set, which the characters broke out of when they left Britain, which could be climbed on, opened out and used to separate people from each other. The presentation of the lost boys as living rough. So much can be achieved with so little. In many ways, perhaps the Quarry Theatre was too big a space for it, and I can imagine that it would have been even more effective in the Swan Theatre at Stratford.

Funniest bits. ‘Milford Haven…where’s Milford Haven?...It’s in WALES! A wonderful slimy Iachmio (nice body, shame about the face).

Occasionally, a sudden burst of Shakespeare’s words would catch me unawares, and the poetry would break over the audience, making me almost catch my breath at its beauty. ‘Hang there, like fruit, my soul, till the tree dies’. ‘Fear no more the heat o’ the sun’.

Let’s be honest, it’s a play not many would choose to go and see, but the theatre was packed. If it couldn’t actually claim to be ‘by William Shakespeare’ then maybe it sent some of this audience out realising that Shakespeare can be enjoyable, and with more understanding of how his plays might have been received at the time that they were written. He wasn’t writing for posterity, he was a jobbing playwright, turning out a play to make money, though, I’m not sure that the original Cymbeline would have made him much.

*they’re based in Truro, y’know, home of the largest Marks and Spencers in the whole of Cornwall.

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Say it's just a story

I saw Blood Brothers again last Friday and it was fabulous. There’ve been quite a few cast changes since we first saw it over a year ago, back in Hull, and a few more since we last saw it, in Liverpool, in April. Thankfully the roles that had changed since then were the ones that needed to – we had a new Mr and Mrs Lyons, both acceptable this time. We also saw Lyn Paul for the second time as Mrs Johnstone, and this time she impressed me, particularly in the second act, when she visibly aged in the part.

Most of the central performers have remained the same, Stephen Palfreman as Mickey, Louise Clayton as Linda and Keith Burns as the narrator*. Stephen and Louise broke my heart from the scene in the flat onwards, and I found myself holding in the sobs, which surprised me, as there have been times with this show when it’s got almost to the very end before I cried.

At the end, I stood. They deserved it, and for once I had no qualms about this, even though the ending is still, make no bones about it, incredibly manipulative of the audience’s emotions.

*yes, I know I’d like to see someone else play this part, but it isn’t going to happen any time soon. There will, however, never be another randy milkman like him!

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Sunday, October 08, 2006

Season of mists, and mellow fruitfulness...and Strictly Come Dancing

Yey! 'Strictly' started again last night*, so my Saturday evenings are planned until Christmas! Odd new format though, with only the guys being voted for last night, and the women just doing a group dance, which didn't really give you the opportunity to judge potential.

So, it's early days as yet, and will probably take a couple of weeks for me to identify my favourite. The last couple of years it's been 'my' Aled, and then last year the lovely James Martin, and in the space of a few months I'd got to meet both of them (and suffered the taunts for having attended an Aled Jones concert, but I didn't care!), so I guess it's 'watch this space'. So far, I quite like RSC actor Ray Fearon and Mark Ramprakash.

But as for voting, oh, no, don't do that!

*though I see they are repeating the highlights, so at least I can catch up if I miss it, which I certainly will do nearer Christmas.

I also caught the first of the new Robin Hood series - I can't say i was impressed either by the acting, or the script. I will probably keep watching for a while though, if only for the lovely Richard Armitage

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A 'proper' gig

Wednesday night, we went to see Paulo Nutini (aka PYFB*) at Leeds Met. ‘We’** go back over two years with Paulo, having first seen him at the Bedford, but this was the first time I’d seen him since then, and now he’s properly famous.

It was a ‘proper’ gig, and I was bizarrely rather nervous of this, as it’s years since I’ve been to one – the last would be when I was at Uni, I guess, though not many bands ever played St John’s. I’ve been to a lot of gigs over the last couple of years, but they’ve been those of a very select group of artists, of a type where people of my age are in the majority, and where behaviour is very different to that at a ‘proper’ gig, with frequently a sort of hushed reverence when people are singing.

It quickly struck me that most of the audience had his album, as they were singing the songs back at him, and he looked so thrilled at that, even though it must happen every night at the moment. He’s got a surprisingly mature voice for a 19 year old.

He pretty much played the whole of the album, but each song was a surprise, as the combination of the fact that he mumbles, and his impenetrable Scottish accent meant we had no idea what song he was announcing. I’m told the audience were a bit quiet, and didn’t really get into it till the last few songs, but it seemed pretty lively to my limited experience. What I can testify to is that the floor wasn’t good for bouncing, being hard concrete, and that if I’m going to do this on a more regular basis I need ‘gig shoes’ as my feet were killing me by the end of the evening. I did feel very proud of him, as everyone sang along to ‘These Streets’ and ‘Last Request’.

Afterwards, as usual, we were looking for a late bar, and Cat’s phone turned up trumps, finding us one very close to where we were standing. Though the description of ‘a gentleman’s club, with leather sofas’, ahem, left a little to be desired – but we found a late drink, so all was well.

*Posh Young Farmer Boy, as christened by Corinne and Nik

**‘We’ in this context being the ND, as there’s sort of a shared ownership of ‘our’ boys

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Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Cute, but understated

Once again, we’re 'in bed' at the Evil Eye, discussing life, the universe and everything. Sometime after I’ve tried to explain the difference between sci fi and fantasy, and bonded over the cat-love with D, we move on to other topics.

‘You could have stalking t-shirts done, you know like those gig t-shirts with a tour list down the back, you could have stalkees down the back’. We collapse in giggles at the idea of having ‘this year I’m stalking…’ with a list on. We’d have Griffin*, and ‘Corinne’s Richard’, and John Barrowman even though we haven’t stalked him yet.

I comment that I’d need a very big t-shirt. And it would have a lot of actors on it.

Having made Coza snort coke**, and nearly choke, we decide that we’re cute, but understated, stalkers.

* well, he’d have to be top, just in terms of sheer volume

**of the ‘diet’ variety, I hasten to add

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