Confessions of a Theatre Snob

Saturday, June 30, 2007

On being competitive

It's a belief of mine, frequently stated, that there's no point in being competitive unless you have a chance of winning. Therefore, I wasn't competitive about the cricket but I was incredibly competitive the following day at a pub quiz.

We'd arrived late anyway, so had to be read all the first set of questions separately whilst eveyone else was having a drinks break. V was very honourable, as she could have read some of the answers. I'd like to say I'd have been the same, but I'm not convinced. I thought they were pretty tough, as were the second set, but with a bit of debate, discussion and guesswork, we'd got answers for most of them.

It then came to the scoring, during which I'd got distracted by the fact that there was also a tombola going on, and complaining that, £3 later, all I'd gained was a very small packet of bathsalts!

When we got our question sheets back, and started to go through it, we realised a couple of things. We hadn't got our 'picture sheet' back, and some of the questions which were marked wrong were in fact right, and we should actually have 5 more points. That would be at least 2 points more than those who were being announced as the winners then.

I may have started to rant a bit, but subsided a little when reminded it was for charity. I had to settle for the moral high ground that we actually won, and, as we were declared officially third, a voucher for a Yorkshire Tea loaf. And an invite to come again, which might not have been extended if I'd have made more of a fuss. It's a nice pub, and I'd like to go back.

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Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Kirkstall* Revisited


We had our costumes, we had our props**, and we were heading down the A1 for Leeds and Kirkstall Abbey, and Dean's 'Brideshead picnic. The closer we got to Leeds, the sky darkened and the rain got more persistent. And I got grumpier. ‘I hate the British weather!’

Kirkstall turned out to be a bit of a devil to find, particularly as Leeds doesn’t seem to put up signs for anything other than A roads, or a least not until you’ve turned at a junction (Grrr). So, with me complaining, and Cat blaming the cartographer, we eventually got to the car park. As we got out of the car, the bottom of my silk trousers immediately got in a puddle, and the water began to seep up the legs. Yuech!

We found everyone in the cloisters, (which had a roof, hurrah) with the picnic all set out. It all looked brilliant, and we had Battenberg cake, French fondant fancies, and jam tarts on actual cake stands, with the champagne marinated smoked salmon a particular highlight.

People had really entered into the spirit, and we even had Aloysius the bear. We did all look fabulous (I'm really not into modesty here!). Whilst we’d raided Costume Hire in York, the others had been to the WYP. In my head, I’d created a whole character, of ‘slightly louche and decadent tutor’, hence I was armed with a small novel. (E.M. Forster - I wasn’t allowed Oscar Wilde, as I’d have been quoting all afternoon).

After we’d eaten, and the rain had stopped, it was time for the photoshoot. Well, it had to be done. I may have got a little bossy, but to be honest, it’s always a risk when I’m in costume. We drew some bemused looks from the passers by, but I didn’t care by that point, I was in the zone.
It was also time for cricket. Yes, you read that right. Actual sport, or at least as sporty as people in 1920's costume and unsuitable shoes could get. Not that I ran very far, and I was out second ball (caught behind, Elliott – it just caught an edge), but it was great fun - and I actually mean that. Though most amusement was caused by Dean's bowling stance which caused a wardrobe malfunction of the trouser area. Despite my pathetic efforts, our team actually won! I don’t think Yorkshire, or England will be calling just yet though.

*well, not actually, as it was my first visit.

**Don’t ever say we don’t take these things seriously. Cat had to dig out her ‘cookery basket’ and I had to find my tennis racquet.

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Monday, June 25, 2007

'It's like Aladdin's Cave'

(with apologies for the overuse of the word 'fabulous' in this blog)

It’s Cat’s first visit to Costume Hire, and like everyone, at first sight it’s all a bit overwhelming.

‘What are you after?’, P asks. ‘Brideshead, 1920’s, Oxbridge chic’ I explain. I already know where the 1920’s dresses are. She looks at me. ‘Judith Bliss, Hay Fever… and she wasn’t a stick insect’. She fishes out a vivid pink floral number, and I give it a try. Sadly, whilst she may not have been a stick insect, it’s unforgiving around the hips. I might get away with it, but it doesn’t feel right. I try another, it’s from Cabaret, and it’s silver lurex. It fits, and I’m swooshing around in it, but I know it’s not really picnic wear. I go for my next option, a black and gold pyjama suit, which fits. I put it on, and immediately I’m creating a character. I find a hat which isn’t really in period, but it looks much better than the cloche hat that I try on, so I go for it.

Cat meanwhile has a selection of day dresses, and settles on one which is ‘sailor inspired’ teaming it with a blue beret and a fabulous pair of blue character shoes. Meanwhile, P and I catch up on a bit of theatrical gossip.

Once we’ve decided, it’s playtime, and I fish out a fabulous blue silk gown from Amadeus for Cat to try. As I waft into the changing room with it, P calls, ‘Val, that’s not 1920’s’, ‘I know’, but you can’t let these opportunities go to waste. She puts it on, and P adds a mask. It looks fabulous, but you couldn’t wear it to a picnic!

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Sunday, June 17, 2007

Jack's back

Spoiler alert - just in case you're waiting for the repeat on Friday

Yes, Captain Jack has finally found the right kind of Doctor, and what we never realised was that he’s been looking for him a lot longer than we thought. Nearly 150 years in fact, having arrived back on earth in the 1860’s. It was lovely to see the banter between him and DT’s Doctor, and to explore just why he had been left behind. It was also the Jack from Season 1, rather than the more moody Jack from Torchwood, flirting with everyone, and everything he met.

I haven’t said much about Doctor Who recently, and I have to admit that some episodes this series have been a bit disappointing (the Daleks in Manhattan two-parter, and 42), but recently we’ve been on a roll of good episodes. I loved the Human Nature two-parter. Oh how I cried for John Smith and the life that he could never have, and what a fantastic performance it was from DT. I could have written a great deal about that one, given the time. Blink was as good as I expected from Steven Moffat, who wrote the brilliant The Girl in the Fireplace last season.

And so we moved on to Utopia, and what a red herring that turned out to be. It’s been probably the worst kept secret that the Master in the shape of John Simm was returning at the end of the series, and we’ve had trails all through for the mysterious Mr Saxon. What I wasn’t expecting was that The Professor (oh, how clever that was) had also used the chameleon arch to hide his Time Lord identity, and that he would then, as the Master, regenerate into John Simm and steal the Tardis. So the two-part ending is really a three-parter, and I can’t wait to see where this ride takes us, as we now have three brilliant actors* in the show.

*which is not to diss Derek Jacobi at all, who is also brilliant. I loved DT commenting on Confidential that he'd gone to the stage door to get his autograph when he was at drama school. We have so much in common!

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The Handbag Walks Part 4 & 5


Yes, I’ve been a little lax in updating. Lets call it life, eh?

Well, there was definitely a change between last week and this week weather-wise. Last week, it was hot and sunny, and, as I set out without any suncream (I know!), I got burnt. Our walk took us to Nunnington, and Nunnington Hall. It was glorious, and we did about 5 miles, along the river, watching the paddling cows, past a poppy field, over the hill, and along an ancient trackway. As we arrived back in Nunnington we cut through a field with a mare and foal, and managed to get chased by them, somehow letting the foal into the church yard, with mum on the other side of the fence. Now, I’m not good with horses, but I’m probably a bit better than V. Those country genes may be deeply buried, but they come out eventually, so I finally managed to get the foal back through the gate by giving it a sharp tap on the rump.

After that, we deserved lunch at the hall, and I rounded off the day by buying a piece of furniture at the design studio in the village. You can’t say our walks aren’t different.

This week, it was raining so heavily there was no chance of taking a walk. Indeed, we are ‘fair weather’ walkers. So, of course, the solution was ‘lunch’! Or rather, it would have been, apart from the fact that I got a call from V just as I was about to enter the Dormouse.

‘I’ve broken down’
‘Where are you?’
‘At the petrol station’

V had got a new car the previous day, and it had decided to give up on her, and wouldn’t start again after she’d filled it with petrol. So I headed over to join her, and we sat in the car waiting for the Green Flag man, who, because the weather was so awful, didn’t come for an hour and a half. Well, at least we were able to read the Edinburgh Fringe brochure. When he finally arrived, thankfully, instead of all the dire problems we were imagining it was a simple problem. Flat battery. Rather than risk it again, we dropped her car at home, and I drove to the pub. I think we had lunch about 4pm.

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Sunday, June 10, 2007

Not with a bang

My drama class came to an end last week with ‘An evening of monologues and (one) duologues’.

As we arrived, everyone was asking, ‘how many are you bringing?’ ‘none’, ‘none’, ‘one'. By the time we were ready to start, we had an audience of 3 guests, the other class members, the admin staff, the adult education organiser, and the tutor’s daughter who she’d press-ganged into attending!

We certainly had variety – from Ariel in silver boots and with tinsel in her hair, to Blanche DuBois complete with table, candle and herb cigarettes – and worried looks from the staff who feared that the smoke alarms would go off, a Welsh Nora, a bit of The Dumb Waiter, a couple of modern pieces, and my Mrs Sullen from The Beaux Strategem.

No one forgot their lines. J, who’d legged it two weeks ago, did turn up, but just to watch, and so K gave him my camera to take pics. And as he wasn’t familiar with it, we got a few pics of people just as they left the stage, who then had to be asked to go back and pose. As a performance, it didn’t run like any other that I’d been in, but for many of them, it was only the second time that they’d been on a stage, so they did well.

Afterwards, as we drank the wine, the discussion turned to ‘what next?’ For some of them, seeking out some ‘am dram’, for others, that’s it, they’ve done it now, for one, a ‘career’ as a Jack Sparrow look-a-like. For me, I just don’t know. I do know that I need to do drama, in some shape or form, so I hope that my slight rant about all the theatre projects being for kids and there being nothing for adults went home. I doubt it though.

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Of dreams, coats, and reality tv

Reality TV. It sucks you in. Even with my level of cynicism, I’ve been pulled into Any Dream Will Do, and that’s without seeing all of the shows (they’ve been clashing with Doctor Who Confidential, and you only get the cutdown version of that on the repeats).

What I like is that, unlike the ‘other side’, they have judges who really know their stuff. And of course I love John Barrowman, who is always honest and fair in his comments, and if anyone knows what makes a leading man, he does.

I think it was on Eurovision night that I articulated that my favourite was Lee, and once you acknowledge that you care, even in a small way, you’re lost. After that, it became difficult to watch, though he always seemed streets ahead of the others, in actually being able to deliver a performance rather than just sing a song.

Gradually others fell by the wayside, and he was never in the ‘sing off’, and last night it was the final. Three of them, Lewis, the blonde cutie from Boro, who was lovely but a bit young to take such a gamble on. He’ll make it as a result of the show, but this wasn’t his time. He’d frequently been in the ‘sing off’, so I wasn’t surprised to see him go first.

Then we had Lee, and Keith. Keith was a bit of a dark horse, in that he’d never been in the bottom two either. He has a good voice, but his stage presence wasn’t as striking, and he was also, I’m afraid, just a little geeky.

I took comfort from the fact that everyone I’ve spoken to has picked out Lee as the one. He gave a couple of storming performances, of 'New York, New York', and 'Paint it Black' (one of my beefs about the show is that they never give them ‘real’ musical songs to sing until the ‘sing off’. Oh, I know why, but they’re up for musical theatre, not a pop career!)

The final song was a duet with both finalists singing 'Jesus Christ Superstar'. Oh so many emotions watching that, it even made me a little tearful, and Lee was fantastic in it.

And then the announcement – Lee is Joseph – how could I have doubted? I yelled so loudly the cats dived in opposite directions off the sofa and went and hid under the table.

And now, I want to go and see the show. After all, it must be all of 14 years since I saw Philip Schofield do it.

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It doesn't matter what you say as long as you leave enough gaps

‘Did you go and see The Dumb Waiter at York Theatre Royal?’
‘Yes’
‘What did you think?’
‘It was about 55 minutes too long’
‘Oh (Pinteresque pause)…how long did it last’
‘About an hour’.

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Friday, June 08, 2007

Literary conversations

Like many workplaces, we have a 'book club' that comes round. I was very excited last week to see one of the offers was a box set of 10 Penguin* Shakespeares, for the bargainous price of £6. I found myself hugging them and knowing I had to have them.

I got my copies yesterday, and was singing their praises to my boss.

Boss: ‘You mean you’ll read those, for pleasure?’
‘Well, I’ve read them all already, but yes’
J chips in: ‘I saw a Shakespeare once – it had Puck in it, I was bored stiff’

The CEO comes out ‘Ahh, Alas Poor Yorick’
Boss: ‘I knew him well’
‘I knew him, Horatio’
We turn to Romeo and Juliet
Boss: ‘is that where O Romeo Romeo wherefore art thou Romeo comes from?’
‘yes, but really, if we’re being pedantic, it should be ‘Montague, Montague…’

(Really, don’t get me started on this, I could go on for days)

Boss: ‘I’ve only been to the theatre once in my life, to see ‘We Will Rock You’

I start to giggle uncontrollably

Boss: ’What’s up?’
‘M…, ‘We Will Rock You is theatre for people who don’t go to the theatre!’


*Yes, we all know the Arden editions are the best, but the Penguins are the set texts for my OU course, and that was my justification for buying them, even though there’s only one set text out of three in the set.

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Monday, June 04, 2007

Luscious, and that's just the food!

It's a little late in the day, but I can’t resist the chance to say a bit more about our encounter with the lovely James Martin* at the Ryedale Food and Drink Festival at Castle Howard. We’d accepted the fact that his popularity has increased dramatically since he took over Saturday Kitchen, but it was hugely busier than last year.

It was a cold and wet Bank Holiday Monday morning and we were there for the opening so were able to secure tickets to his first demonstration. The marquee had got posher since last year, and it now had chandeliers! What you don’t get on tv is the aroma of the food, and this was in smell-o-vision – yum!

Afterwards, we headed to his stall in the exhibitors tent, where he was signing his books. We got well and truly elbowed by little old ladies (Cat: ‘chef fans are mean!’) but got to meet him. He is, indeed, very tall, and has stunning blue eyes. And yes, I bought a cook book, but I have yet to make anything out of of it. In fact I still have yet to make anything out of the one I bought last year. Ho hum!

Afterwards, we wandered round, tasting all the freebies, and buying bits (and running out of money) before wandering round the gardens – it was pretty cold though. When we eventually returned to the tent, James was there, and not so swamped with people, but neither of us felt able to just go up to him. It’s odd. When you sort of ‘know’ someone, it’s remarkably easy, but when you don’t**, this ‘non–stalking’ is actually very difficult.

*He went to my school you know! Sadly, not at the same time as me.
**which means we have to work on this

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Friday, June 01, 2007

Cultural divide

‘I went to Castle Howard at the weekend’

‘Leeds Castle?’

‘No, Castle Howard’ (by way of explanation) ‘It’s in Yorkshire’ (this is going down well, these southerners clearly don’t think we have stately homes ‘up north’) ‘They filmed Brideshead Revisited there’

‘Ohhhh!’ ( a glimmer of interest)

‘I went to the Ryedale Food and Drink Festival…well, I went to see James Martin’

‘Who?’ (this is going really well)

‘James Martin,… the chef…he does Saturday Kitchen’

(suddenly, I’ve struck a chord) ‘Ohhh, is he the young one? I like him!’

Ever wish you hadn’t bothered?!

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