The Curse of Debbie Harry

Ever since the time Cat fell down a flight of stairs whilst in the middle of a conversation about Debbie Harry, and sustained a badly sprained ankle, DH has been a bit of a watchword for disaster.

So when I leave the table in the Chinese restaurant to visit the facilities, down a flight of stairs, and Dean tosses the name at me, I respond that it doesn’t work on me. I get down the stairs safely, but coming back up, I catch the heel of my gold sandals* on the edge of a stair, and it comes off my foot. I think it’s just pulled the shoe off, a little like when you continue walking and leave your shoe behind because it’s stuck in a crack in the pavement. But no, the buckle is broken, and the strap is ripped apart in two places. It is now a broken shoe.

I hobble back to the table, clutching my shoe. I can still walk in them, but I’m going to the theatre. I may see actors. How can I see actors with a broken shoe?!

We have some time before the play starts, and not too far to walk, so we call in at the new M&Ms store in Leicester Square, where Cat offers me some fluffy slippers.

Dean points out that we can make it to Clarks on Regent Street. We do, but they have possibly the poorest selection of women’s shoes I’ve seen in a long time. We pop into Austin Reed. I ask for anything in a size 6 – only not pink! They only HAVE pink.

I have to give up. I can actually walk in my shoes. It’s just that it feels very noticeable. It doesn’t matter how many times I’m told no one is going to look at my feet.

We arrive at the theatre, and take our seats. The row in front of us is occupied by the cast of The Tempest, including Ralph Fiennes.

It’s a good job he can’t see my feet!

*I bought the shoes for the same event where Cat fell down the stairs and it was an effort to find the perfect pair. They’ve done good service, but it’s not going to be easy to replace them.

Run!

(Or, how I helped to save the Doctor)

(SPOILERS for the Punchdrunk Show, The Crash of the Elysium)

The first thing we're told to do is 'run!' Time is of the essence here. The spaceship Elysium has crashed nearby, and we are the only ones who can help.

We're divided into three groups, Patrol, Analysis and Technical, and given numbers, so I'm number 12, Patrol Group, and we have the dubious honour of leading the way into the crashed ship, with Captain Soloman leading us. Corporal Albright brings up the rear. We're all wearing bio-hazard suits, but many have rejected the face masks (I did try, but it wearing it made my glasses fog up!)

'Watch the shadows. And, whatever you do, don't blink'. The grainy video message is received from the Doctor, who warns us that the ship was carrying living art work, 'and some of the art has escaped'.

'Crouch down, and watch that door'. We do as we're instructed, half scared, half hoping that something is going to come through the door. It's dark, smoky, and lit mainly by torches. At times we're in total darkness.

The message from the Doctor tells us he's in terrible danger, and about to die. We have to try and save him. There's a lot of running, past ducts, and into the darkness. Through one door, a figure is covered with a piece of sacking. Capt. Solomon removes it and reveals what we all know to be a Weeping Angel. 'Keep looking at it', someone shouts. As we advance through the tunnels, finding more information, the Angels advance. We see them on the monitor. The youngest of our group, a boy of about 14, shouts 'the image of an angel becomes an angel! Don't look in the eyes, look at the body', and we do, no one wants to be caught. Through the light, the tunnels, the confusion, I'd swear those angels are advancing upon us, as we scramble forward.

Suddenly we stumble through a door and there's straw beneath our feet. We're no longer on the Elysium, but have been thrown back in time to a Victorian fairground on the same spot. We meet Dolly, a one time companion of the Doctor's who holds the key to the Tardis, and tells us that we can still save him, we just have to send the Tardis back to him.

First we have to find it, it's in one of the fairground displays. Curtains draw back, and the Tardis is revealed. putting the key in the lock will send to back to the Doctor - but with it gone, how are we to return to our own time?

And we still have to escape the Angels, who have followed us. More running, through mirrored corridors, images of Angels in the mirrors, crashing, bumping, finally breaking out into another room, where we use the energy we've absorbed as time travellers to turn the Angels to stone, and get us back to our own time.

Finally, a thank you letter from the Doctor. We've helped him now, and he may need us again. One day.

Fantastic!

(For anyone utterly confused)

Much Ado about Tennant and Tate

It was January when we booked. A crazy day that I recorded on here, and which ended with a long rant as Corinne actually walked to the theatre to book our tickets in person, all web based efforts having failed. It was worth it, for we had fabulous seats. Definitely whites of the eyes (leading to the query ‘has he always had a wonky eye?’*)

Set in the early 1980’s, apparently in Gibraltar (though I don’t think you’d know without the programme), there were some lovely period touches, The play may refer to Messina, but these characters were thoroughly British. A hard drinking and smoking military community.

Initially, I had my doubts about Catherine Tate’s Beatrice, as she teetered on the edge of over-playing it at the start, but she settled into the play, and from the party scene onwards was excellent.

I had no doubts at all about David’s Benedick. He can speak Shakespeare as though it is entirely his everyday language. He brings a clarity and meaning to lines I’ve never really noticed before. He surprises me, and that is so difficult to do in Shakespeare. And he can deliver a line perfectly whilst reversing a golf buggy on stage. Now that’s skill.

His comic timing in the gulling scene was amazing. Unfair to spoil it here, but the scene is a gift to an actor, and he played it to the full.

As a production, it was ‘broad brush’ Shakespeare. Plenty there to hook in those who didn’t know the story (apparently the guy next to Corinne was genuinely surprised when Hero was alive!) But below the surface there were touches and nuances which made a Shakespeare geek grin. Crucially, they passed my ‘test’, which is the line ‘Kill Claudio’. A couple of sniggers, but that was all.

It has a very good looking cast, though I struggled to see beyond David (apart from Elliot Levey’s Don John). Claudio is a pig of a part, and even more difficult I feel if the play has a modern setting. You can only get away with it if he is played very young, which he was. The scene where he is tricked into believing Hero unfaithful the night before the wedding is played out during the stag and hen parties of the couple, all disco lights, music, drinking and disorienting revolve, which worked really well. The addition of his almost suicidal remorse helped, even if it did cut across the uncomfortable earlier scene where he and Don Pedro are cracking jokes until he is challenged by Benedick. There’s still a real issue about Hero forgiving him though.

The music, an 80’s pastiche which sounded authentic without using any actual songs, was excellent, and there were echoes of Wham in the final song and dance routine, which is always going to please me.

There was a real joy about the ending, and yet, we didn’t stand, though many of the audience did. It was great, but it wasn’t ‘Hamlet 1 November 2008’ great.

Afterwards, we did go round to the stage door. It wasn’t as busy as Hamlet. If I’d been determined, I could have got in there. However, I don’t need to push my way in. It’s the long game, and the time will come.

*The answer is ‘yes’, but it was more noticeable in this production. Possibly he’s tired.

Risen from the rubble

My first visit to the ‘new’ Royal Shakespeare Theatre was always going to be a bit of an event. It’s been getting on for 5 years since I’ve been to a theatre on the Waterside site, the last visit to the old theatre being Merry Wives the Musical in December 2006.

I remember the feeling of shock when I went down for The Glorious Moment and saw the shell of the theatre for the first time, and then gradually seeing the new theatre take place over subsequent visits.

The building has been open for a few months now, but the first productions specifically for the new auditorium have opened fairly recently.
As a building, it’s different, but the same. A place of mixed emotions, it feels strange to step back into what has always been the foyer, and is now the stalls bar. So much more space, now they’re not trying to cram everything onto that small area. The old fountain and the marble staircase up to the circle are back in place, but the circle bar is now accessible to all, not just to those with a circle ticket (and not, therefore, somewhere I’ve visited with much frequency). A new link corridor between the entrance to the RST and the Swan now provides shop space.

All the art deco features of the original building have been retained, the floor of the old stage has been re-laid in the public areas (and yes, I did find that thrilling), and some of the features in the old structure have been left exposed to show the history of the building. I can understand this, but am not sure I like it.

Through the doors which used to be the entrance to the stalls runs a semi-circular brick wall, the back of the new auditorium, with quick change areas for actors tucked away in alcoves. Higher up, bridges link across to the upper levels.

Inside the auditorium, it looks and feels like the Courtyard Theatre, which is slightly odd, as, if you know that theatre well, you feel like you’ve suddenly entered a different building, and one that seems very familiar. That theatre was always meant to be temporary, this isn’t, and therefore has some extra touches which make it feel finished off. None of the seats look to be that far way from the stage, and to have good sightlines.

Of course it’s the bits that the audience don’t see which have changed the most, the backstage areas, the facilities for wardrobe, technical, wigs make-up, dressing rooms . A rabbit warren of corridors that it must take actors a while to get used to. There’s depth below the stage that didn’t exist before. In the old theatre, there was so little space between the back walls of the RST and the Swan that actors appearing in each tended to bump into each other, now, it feels spacious.

At the moment, it still smells new, which feels exciting and full of possibilities. As for the Stage Door, well, of course I checked out where it was, for future reference

A tale of two Frankensteins

Having got our ‘hot tickets’ for the National Theatre Frankenstein, we settle into our seats on the back row of the Olivier Circle. Our cast was Jonny Lee Miller as the Creature, and Benedict Cumberbatch as Victor.

The staging impresses from the outset. A bank of light bulbs hangs over the auditorium, angled down towards the stage, and pulses of light shoot down, bringing the creature to life. A huge bell also hangs over the audience, to be tolled at the start of the play, and at later points in the action. Centre stage is a large disc, with a figure inside it, and it is from within this that the Creature is ‘born’.

For the first 15 or so minutes of the play, there is hardly any dialogue. The creature is born, and emerges flailing and crawling, uttering guttural sounds. It is a feat to make all this totally enthralling, and never comic. Miller’s naked form, twitching with aftershocks from the lightening bolts, is a remarkable figure. No sooner born, than rejected by his creator, he is thrown out onto a world which rejects him for his strangeness, his appearance and his inability to communicate. He has a childlike enjoyment of the flying birds, and the rain which falls on him. But his encounters with humans lead only to harsh words, and rejection. To beatings and fear.

Whilst I wondered at the reason for having a steam train* come onto the stage, it is an impressive visual effect, all flying sparks, and clanking noise. Only when the Creature meets the blind De Lacey does he meet someone who does not judge, but educates him, first to speak, then to read. Seasons pass, and he grows into someone who can quote Paradise Lost, and understand the tales of the Roman emperors. But his understanding is warped, and rejection leads to him taking a terrible revenge, before setting off to seek his creator, Victor Frankenstein.

The change of staging, to create Lake Geneva, with some dry ice, and a couple of walkways, is simple but impressive.

Having made a brief appearance at the start of the play, Victor always seems slightly in the shadow of his creation. Of the two castings, I much preferred JLM as the Creature, and BC as Victor. JLM’s creature had more heart, more humanity, whilst BC’s Victor had all the arrogance and hubris of scientist who could play God. Horrified by what he had created, yet unable to take responsibility for it, he is still unable to resist trying again, to create perfection, only to destroy it at the last moment when he begins to consider where it might lead.

The scenes between the two are gripping, and there is a real theatrical thrill in seeing two excellent actors working off each other, probably enhanced by the fact that each knows both parts so well.

The play focuses on the relationship between the two main protagonists, at the expense of most of the supporting characters, though Karl Johnson’s De Lacey impresses. It’s in the quieter scenes that the problems of the script emerge. Some of the dialogue between lesser characters is weak, and when Elizabeth, Victor’s fiancée, declares Switzerland ‘picturesque’, I can’t help but cringe.

Finally, Victor and his Creation are alone in the Arctic wastes (further excellent lighting to create the green glow of the ice and the Northern Lights). The Creature’s reason for continued existence has become Victor, and Victor’s reason is to see his creation destroyed. Their final exit, bound together in a journey to the death, is ultimately moving as on what it means to be human, to have human feelings and compassion.

Unusually, at the end of the play, it was difficult to find the words talk about many of the aspects. It was very ‘cinematic’ in that it used the whole expanse of the space, creating stunning visual images, but theatrical in using the technical capabilities of the Olivier to the fullest effect. It is a production that you couldn’t do anywhere else. But the images stuck in my head, whirling in my mind the next day. And I knew that I wanted to see both the alternate casting, and the NT Live showing to see how the cinematic feel was translated for a cinema audience. There was only one problem. All the tickets for City Screen were sold out.

So there began a quest to track down tickets. I got put on the waiting list, but a waiting list doesn’t guarantee anything. It was only on the day of the showing that I got a call around lunchtime to say that they had had a ticket returned. I snapped it up.

Sitting in my seat that evening, looking at the Olivier auditorium on screen was thrilling. It was fascinating to see the alternative casting, the differences, and the similarities, in the performances. But I definitely preferred the casting that we saw live – perhaps because it was the first viewing, definitely because it was in the theatre, but to me it seemed more moving.

What did surprise me about the cinema transmission was that many of the things which I’d thought would look amazing, such as the bolts of lightening, and the scene changes, simply didn’t**. And a lot of the camera angles were rather strange – some scenes were filmed from above, which just felt wrong, as that isn’t the view that you’d ever get as an audience member in the theatre. The clunky dialogue seemed even more so the second time around.

What impressed again were the scenes between the Creature and Victor, seen this time in close up. Cumberbatch’s Creature was more alien than JLM, even more of an outsider, whilst JLM seems more of a physical actor, perhaps one of the reasons I felt that casting worked best.

I am so glad that I had the chance to see it live, and so appreciative that I was able to get a ticket to make the comparison. It will stay in my memory for a long time.

*Not literally, it’s not the Railway Children, after all. Also, isn’t this setting just a bit too early?!
**I am skipping over here the whole Creature’s nappy/loin cloth for the cinema audience.

Sometimes you just have to put a little extra effort in

The National Theatre production of Frankenstein was sold out before we’d even decided the dates for our visit, but there are always day seats, and the plan was to try for those.

Coza says that the word is that the queue for day seats has been forming from 6.30am on weekdays, and 5am at weekends.

‘Ah’, I think, ‘now that’s a bit early’.

There’s a moment, as we consider.

‘I’d do it’, Cat says, ‘after all, we’ve done more, for less’. She’s right, and that settles it.

So on Friday morning, we’re awake at 6am and Cat is outside the NT by 6.30am. We get a text to say that she’s 14th in the queue, and some look like they’ve been there for some time. Given that we expect there to be 30 day seats, we’re on the cusp. I arrive just after 7, having failed to find anywhere en route where I can pick up coffee. The people ahead of us in the line have come prepared, with chairs, blankets, and flasks. I’m wearing my mac, and have a pashmina.

I take over Cat’s place in the queue, and she goes in search of coffee. I suggest towards Waterloo Station may be a good bet. I later get a text to say she’s had to go across the river to Charing Cross.

An elderly chap walks along the queue, checking what everyone is queuing for. It turns out he’s here for Season’s Greetings, ‘I told my sister no one would be here this early for Alan Ayckbourn’ he mutters.

Coza joins us, and the time passes quite quickly. The queue goes back a long way now, but there are seats for all shows (though I doubt if anyone is queuing for Greenland), and standing tickets too. Some time later Coza leaves to go to work, and we watch a chap in the foyer doing some very theatrical, but not very effective, hoovering.

Pretty much on the dot of 9.30am they open the doors. Once inside, there’s a bit of a fracas ahead of us, for it seems that a woman has pushed in at the last minute and bagged a front row seat. There are complaints to the box office staff, and to security, but there’s nothing that can be done about it.

When we reach the desk, all front row have gone, but we secure 3 seats at the back of the circle. For £12 they’re a bargain. Success, and the queuing feels worth it.

Tickets safely stashed, we head for a hearty, and warming, breakfast. Those pancakes sure taste good!

The one where the obsessive gene kicks in

As I checked twitter before getting out of bed, I saw that David Tennant and Catherine Tate were going to be on BBC Breakfast to make ‘an announcement’. Given the rumours that had been circulating for the last couple of weeks this could only mean one thing.

So, I got up, and I turned the TV on, and I waited. Around 9.45am they were finally on and confirming their joint project of Much Ado About Nothing at Wyndhams Theatre from May to September. Great news, but then David casually confirmed that tickets were on sale ‘from now’. While the BBC were still showing Doctor/Donna extracts, I was already texting Corinne to set the wheels in motion. For the problem was, commercial West End, no priority booking!

The next few hours were to make me realise just how easy getting tickets for Hamlet and Love’s Labour’s Lost had been with my priority RSC booking status.

As soon as the interview finished, I was on to the Delfont MacIntosh website. The trouble was, so was everyone else, and it had already crashed. After a few tries, I tried the phones. This wasn’t just about getting tickets, it was about getting good tickets. Whites of the eyes, not back of the balcony.

Engaged. But again, eventually, I got into a queue. I listened to music. I was told a few times that ‘all their operators were busy’ and I may prefer to try the website. Then the line went dead, or to an engaged tone. I never actually spoke to a person. During the next couple of hours, I got rather tired of the suggestions to ‘try the website’.

I did keep checking. The first time I got to date selection, my heart rose. I was in, I chose seating area, and then it crashed. The next time I got as far as having actual seats. Then I got to put in my card details, and it was only after I clicked ‘confirm’ that it crashed. This happened at least three times, the third time, as I looked at the selection of seats in the middle of C row, I felt that it was mocking me. These were OUR seats, why wouldn’t it let me buy them?!

What was worse was that by lunchtime it was coming through on Twitter that ‘lots of you are getting your tickets now’. Well, not us, and this didn’t help, as they were being sold, but not to me. And I was running out of time.

You see, I’d arranged to pick up my new car yesterday. You’d think that was a very exciting prospect, but it turns out it paled in comparison to booking theatre tickets. At about quarter to one that garage rang me to ask where I was, as they’d expected me in the morning.

‘I’ve, ermm, been distracted. I’m on my way.’ As I left, Corinne continued with the assault on the website to no avail. I kept checking, but we’d made no progress, though clearly others had.

We had one last strategy, personal box office assault, which Corinne was dispatched to carry out. It was, finally, the one thing which worked, as just as was setting off out for the evening, I got the call.

‘We’ve got them, Row F.

Phew. Though honestly, David, next time, do us a favour, and go back to Stratford. It’s much easier on my nerves, and my blood pressure.

My theatre year - 2010

It was a pretty good one as far as number of productions seen, as I managed to see 40 shows, after a bit of a slow start in the first few months of the year. I certainly seemed to see a wide variety in many different spaces, and some of the most exciting theatre I saw wasn’t in traditional theatres. It was also a year in which I finally achieved my ambition to complete the Shakespeare canon, so thank you to the Globe for performing Henry VIII.

So, in the best tradition of end of year reviews (which I’m a bit late with, as we’re into the new one), here are my highlights, and lowlights, of 2010.

My favourite Shakespeare production was undoubtedly the Globe’s Henry IV Part 1, which was a great ensemble performance, with a brilliant Falstaff from Roger Allam, bringing out the humour and the pathos of a character that, in lesser hands, can seem quite tedious, so that you wonder why Hal would bother with him.

My favourite musical production was Chess, which I thought was an excellent, and exceedingly camp, revival. I also enjoyed Spamalot, though more so on a second viewing, and that might have been partly because the cast were clearly having so much fun, in what was Marcus Brigstocke’s last week in the show.

My theatre ‘discovery’ of the year was Belt Up Theatre, who we first saw in The Tartuffe back in May, not knowing what we were letting ourselves in for. We then saw them in an Edinburgh attic, a York park, a library, and a pub restaurant, as well as in the Theatre Royal. I love them for their energy, their prolific output, and sheer enthusiasm for producing theatre. Yes, some of the shows can be a bit ragged at the edges, but that’s part of the fun, and all of them have been unmistakably ‘Belt Up’ in style. It’s a long time since I’ve found much in the theatre at York exciting, but they are a truly exciting company.

I also attended some of the NT Live cinema transmissions, seeing London Assurance, Complicite’s A Disappearing Number, and Hamlet. It’s a great idea to let people see these productions who would never otherwise get the chance, but it inevitably looses something, as you are watching what the camera selects for you, and the immediacy of live theatre is lost. I felt it worked best with the comedy, reasonably well for Hamlet, but not particularly well for Complicite.

As for low points, well, sadly, here I have to single out the RSC Antony and Cleopatra that we saw at the Courtyard Theatre in Stratford. I think at the time I tried to see the best in it, though when you find yourself singling out Enobarbus for praise, you know you’re in trouble. The problem was in the casting of Cleopatra, and yes, she really was that bad. I longed to see what Katy Stephens, the understudy, would have done with the role. I will, however, excuse the RSC this aberration, as I’m really looking forward to seeing the new RST now that it’s complete.

As for 2011, well, I’m looking forward to Belt Up doing the Beggar’s Opera, which sounds like a perfect show for them, I’m also looking forward to visiting London, even though we have nothing booked at the moment, and to going to Stratford*. I may also finally get to New York, so it could finally be Broadway, baby. And if yesterday’s rumours prove true (and who knows), I would LOVE to see DT play Benedick.

*All this makes me realise that I need to get some theatre booked, the diary is empty!

This year's Fringe

When you offer advice, sometimes it’s a good idea to take it yourself. I was thinking about this when I re-read last year’s Theatresnob’s Guide to the Fringe. I could have saved myself a great deal of trying to juggle stuff around if I’d have remembered the advice about the handbag!

This year felt a little different. I didn’t stay over last year, and so it was nice this time to be able to plan evening shows again. That said, there were so many that clashed that the only solution would be to go for more than one night.

So, in the best tradition of my annual guide, here are this year’s tips:

1. Stay as centrally as possible if only there for one night. This time we stayed in Hunter Square, just off the Royal Mile, and really handy for so many venues. My favourite visits have been where we have stayed within a stone’s throw of what’s going on, and surprisingly this wasn’t too loud late at night.

2. This year the Fringe has embraced Twitter in a way that I don’t think it had last year. Companies tweet information, publications tweet reviews, or re-tweet positive comment. It’s all out there now, so use it, and see which shows have a buzz about them from people whose opinions you respect.

3. Download the various iPhone Apps, and use them for your planning. Whilst I still carried my Fringe brochure around, I was constantly checking reviews, venues and timings on the Apps I had downloaded. My favourite was iFringe, which I found better then the official App, as it was good for reviews, and tips about venues, e.g. location, bars, and eating. I also liked Theatreninjas, who offer free tickets to certain shows on a daily basis, though I didn’t actually use them.

4. A hard copy map is still a good idea though, just to make sure that you know where you’re going, and can have a quick check if unsure.

5. Shows that offer food are still good, though if a show says ‘with strawberries’, I would like to actually get some. A show that offers a full lunch is an excellent idea, but it probably won’t sell well, as most people factor in the cost of tickets and food separately, and won’t want to pay that much for a ticket.

6. Embrace the spirit of the Fringe by wearing a flowery headband. There’ll be plenty of others doing the same.

7. Carry water! So many of the venues were baking hot, and packed.

8. Ditto a pashmina, for when it cools down later on.

After a couple of year’s seeing a mix of theatre and comedy, this year was pretty much all theatre, (mainly because the comedy acts I really wanted to see clashed with things we’d booked), and all in all it was a good selection. Nothing was particularly poor, though some were better than others. A few were very good indeed. Which is a good thing, as tickets are getting more and more expensive (unless you can tap into Theatreninjas, or FreeFringe, 2 for 1’s, or the half-price booth), so it becomes more and more difficult to go for something off the wall, and unheard of. I’m not sure if I want to add up what I paid for 8 shows.

My favourite? BeltUp Theatre’s Lorca is Dead. Most definitely.

A Twitter Encounter (and a few memories)

I’m relating how thrilling I found The Tartuffe to Corinne, and enthusing about how great it was to see a production that actually made you want to stand and cheer. We happen to be sitting at the Globe before the performance of Henry VIII at the time.

‘You need to see the Medea I saw at the Arcola last year, they’re brining it back. That was one of those.’

The conversation reminds me of something I read on Twitter a couple of days ago. ‘Did you see where Mark Shenton asked about theatrical productions which changed your life?’

‘Yes,…’ before Corinne could develop this much further, the chap seated directly in front of us turned.

‘I’m Mark Shenton’.

I have one of those slightly heart stopping moments. Well, we had been saying good things about him. We start chatting, and he asks what our theatrical ‘moments’ were. Of course, once asked, I can't come up with any one production, and just mutter, ‘oh, probably something at the RSC’, wishing I could be more specific.

Well, in hindsight, I can, so here goes. They are all RSC, they are all 1980’s, but they’ve remained in my memory whilst later performances have faded. Life changing, in that without my visits to the theatre in Stratford, moving to work, and live, in the West Midlands wouldn't have even been a consideration.

My first is Much Ado About Nothing, RST, 1982, Derek Jacobi and Sinead Cusack. It was my first visit to see a production in the main house, and I was utterly spellbound from start to finish. It was beautiful to look at, and the main performances just stunning. For a long time, all subsequent Benedick and Beatrice's were measured against that memory, and there are still things about it which I don’t think I’ve ever seen done better. I'd seen RSC productions on tour, but I think this was the one that made me utterly fall in love with Stratford, and the RSC, and feel that I needed to go there as often as I could.

My second is Les Liaisons Dangereuses at The Other Place in 1985. Again, a first visit, this time to TOP, when it was still a tin hut. An incredible cast, Alan Rickman, Lindsay Duncan, Juliet Stevenson, Fiona Shaw, Lesley Manville. At times I felt I was holding my breath for how the story would unfold. Looking back at my diary from the time, I described the experience as ‘like eavesdropping on the private intrigues between the protagonists’*. I’ve seen Les Liaisons a couple of times since, but I doubt any production will have the impact and power of that first production.

My third is The Fair Maid of the West in the Swan Theatre, 1986, it’s first season. An ensemble production of a not particularly great play but so full of energy and the sheer joy of life that it was another standing ovation show. It used the Swan space brilliantly taking the audience from shore, to shipboard, to pirate attack, to Morocco and back to Cornwall. Wonderful also because it was so unexpected. Again a great cast, Imelda Staunton, Sean Bean, Simon Russell Beale, Pete Postlethwaite. For many years it held the record of the show I’d seen the most, as I saw it 6 times.

There are many others which I’ve loved. Nicholas Nickleby, (the revival, not the original, as I wasn’t lucky enough to see that), The Plantagenet’s, through to The Glorious Moment of all the History plays. I know I’m incredibly lucky to have seen some of the great productions, and performances, of the past 25 years** but often it isn’t the individual performance which stays in the memory, it’s the company, the ensemble.

*which goes to show that I’ve been a diarist for a long time, and also a long term theatresnob
** which however you look at it is a pretty scary time span (and yes, I do know that it’s 28 years since 1982)

The 37th Play

However you look at it, I've waited a long time to achieve this. All 37* Shakespeare plays, on stage, in professional productions**. My rules.

Some have been very difficult to achieve. Timon of Athens was a toughie, in more senses than one, as Will seemed to forget about an ending to that one. Titus Andronicus was ticked off four years ago at the Globe, and it was the Globe which came up trumps again for the final play, Henry VIII***. And, really, the finale one had to be either there, or Stratford, didn't it?

Even better was when we discovered that Dominic Rowan was to play Henry (clearly the days of ginger Henry's are over), as we (re-)discovered him in As You last Summer.

The last time Henry VIII was performed at the Globe, the cannon set the thatch alight and the theatre burned down. 'Risky', I commented, when we got to that bit in the performance.
As a spectacle it worked really well, with wonderful costumes, and really suited the Globe space. As a play, well, it's not one of Will's best, though some scenes and characters are very strong. Dense and unfamiliar, it took some concentration at the start until your ears adjusted to the words. It suffers from not having one main protagonist, and could do with more severe cutting than it had received in this production, as the second half of the second act did drag a bit. Henry doesn't have a great deal to do, apart from stand around in rather fabulous costumes (very fine calves, Dominic), and I can see why they kept this section in, as it's the bit that shows Henry as the just and wise king, but it did seem unneccessary.

The strongest characters are the Duke of Buckingham, Katherine, a fine and very moving performance from Kate Duchene, and Wolsley, a disappointing one from Ian McNeice, so much so that his fall from power went for nothing, and you never felt that he actually cared at all. In contrast, Katherine was electric in the trial scene. It was a production which also utilised the lesser characters well to add some humour, and to play off the Globe audience. As we've done before we had two seated tickets, and two groundling tickets so that we got two different expereinces of the performance.

And the sun shone. An excellent way to mark this milestone - and thanks, and many hugs to Corinne, Cat, and Dean who were there to celebrate it with me.

*Let's not talk about any additions to the canon, ok?

**So no conflations of the Henry VI's, and no, Kneehigh's Cymbeline does not count, given it met the Shakespeare play once in a bar

***There have been two other occasions when know I could have seen it, both in Stratford, in 1983 and 1996. It doesn't come round very often.

Immersive Theatre

I knew I was going to enjoy Belt Up Theatre’s The Tartuffe when we were standing in the theatre bar, and members of the cast were mingling amongst us. We chatted with clowns, ladies in corsets, mimes, and the great actor Orgon Poquelin (who was a little put out that we didn’t realise that he was the star of the show), and a chap who asked our names, which we obligingly told him.

As we went to take our seats in the second row of the stalls, the same guy was learning over the edge of the circle, and announced to all the audience ‘here ladies and gentlemen, we have Val and Julie, who have just entered’, of course, we took a bow, and took our seats.

What I hadn’t realised was that we were attending the very final performance of The Tartuffe, and over the last couple of years, and performances in York, Edinburgh, and London, this show has gained it’s own cult following. Belt Up’s style is Immersive Theatre, and for this last show, there were a lot of people who had seen it before, and were happy to get involved. Most people on the front row were dragged up on stage in some way. I was, of course, kicking myself that we were on the second row.

It was, quite simply, the best production I’ve seen for some time, funny, clever, very irreverent*, with enough theatre ‘in-jokes’ to make a theatresnob happy, and then some.

By the end, the whole of the audience were on their feet, as Orgon died, and was lifted aloft like a dead Christ. The cheering went on for some time. This time, I didn’t begrudge the standing ovation, they deserved it. They’re in residence at York Theatre Royal, and I’ll definitely be seeking out what they do next. Also, they have a blog.
Seek them out people, you won’t regret it.

*Though I think I laughed more than most at the bits that were lifted straight out of JCS

A little bit of Stratford

I stand on the tramway bridge looking at the Avon in, at last, the Spring sunshine, and take a moment. The new theatre is finally taking shape, and from this distance it looks almost finished. Despite what the others said about its appearance yesterday, to me it isn’t about what it looks like. The building has never been attractive, and the main house was always a difficult space where you could feel miles away from the action, but the theatrical history, the memories of performances past, along with the hope for what will be to come, makes it so very special. When it opens we will finally have more than one theatre again.
From the same bridge, as the river curves away, I can see the spire of Holy Trinity. This is Shakespeare’s town, and oh how I love it. I’ve said it before, but there is just something about this town which lifts the spirits. It’s always been a place of escape for me, away from any stresses and pressures of the day to day. I’m someone who hates going into a pub on my own, but in Stratford I’m quite happy to go to the Duck, where there’s usually an actor or two in sight. It’s a small town, so you do tend to trip over members of the company. Yes, in many ways it’s commercialised, and you’re always within a stones throw of a ‘Hathaway’ tea rooms or a ‘Shakespeare’ bookshop, but somehow the mass tourism doesn’t matter. To visit the houses where he lived, and, this time, even the deer park where he allegedly did a bit of poaching, and to hear his words spoken on stage is just magical.

It breaks my heart slightly to leave it. I don’t want to return to the ‘real’ world, where I’m still trying to adapt to the new job. But I know it’s never goodbye. I just have to plan the next opportunity to visit.

It’s just 'farewell', until the next time.

It makes the theatre snob in me quite proud

I heard from my lovely ex-boss last week. This is the boss who had only ever seen two theatre productions in his life. As a life-long Hull City fan, Confessions of a City Supporter, and then a few years later on a trip to London, We Will Rock You (yes, I did mock). When I used to rave about the magic of live theatre, he always told me that theatre wasn’t for him, as it was ‘posh’.

In an email about work, he also told me that he had started going to the theatre, and sounded quite excited about it. He had recently see Blood Brothers, Billy Elliot and even Jerusalem (ahead of me there). He went on to say that he had also booked for Phantom of the Opera, Thriller (I will allow him an ‘off’ day) and The 39 Steps.

It was lovely to read his final comments: ‘Have really enjoyed all of them and I can absolutely now see why you love the Theatre so much’.

Awww!

I guess a 4 line nursery rhyme gives plenty of scope

It was the last night of York Panto on Saturday. This year, it was Humpty Dumpty. Not that it mattered, as there was no discernable plot. We had Snow White in there, complete with 7 penguins rather than dwarves (Snow, geddit?), Old King Cole, and Young King Cole, who was, of course, called ‘Nat’, and Simple Simon, and a baddie called Eggula. And of course, Humpty himself, who emerged from the egg.

We had the usual company of actors, Berwick (31 years and counting*), David (yes, still got it), Martin, Suzy, Vince. A few new recruits too among the dancers, including David’s 19 year old daughter. As I remember her running round as a toddler on last night, I felt old. There was possibly the campest panto chorus I’ve ever seen. (All dressed as Superheroes, below, for no particular reason)
This year, I didn’t get to see it before last night, so it was all new to me – though many of the jokes, and the slosh scene, were distinctly recycled. But that’s the joy of it, and that’s why we come back year after year. When it got to the songsheet, it’s usually ‘girls and boys’ against ‘mums and dads’.

Berwick looked out at the audience. ‘All those under 18 raise your hands’. Two hands went up. ‘Hmm, I think you’re going to stuggle’. Of course it was a draw, as it always is.

As always, we had our script as the audience, and were pretty much on cue. There’s definitely a Eurovision fan in there somewhere, as I suddenly realised that the main love song was in fact this year’s winning song from Norway.

Despite being on the second row of the Stalls I didn’t get a Wagon Wheel. Next year they’re doing Robinson Crusoe. As Berwick said, 'if you do Jack and the Beanstalk, you pretty much have to have a beanstalk, and a cow', and he likes to take a title and see where it goes.

* I think I’ve missed about 5 of them, the first 3, and *ahem*, those in 2004 and 2005 when I was otherwise engaged.

Theatre at last

For a while, I've felt like a Theatre Snob who doesn't actually see any theatre, as, until a week ago, I haven't been to see anything since early November. Yes, December was theatre-less. Shocking, I know, and not acceptable. I must do better. It was therefore a relief to finally go to see The Misanthrope in London last weekend.

‘She’s too thin, it’s distracting’, is the verdict of half of our party on Keira Knightley, who is the principal reason that we had to pay full price for our seats. And she really is as skinny as they say. Her costumes emphasise this, to then extent that you want to tell her to go and have a plate of chips. She isn’t our principal reason for going, however. That would be Dominic Rowan, and Damian Lewis.

Of course, I’m interested to see what she makes of her first stage appearance, and she is fine. Not startling, not great, but fine, in the role of a Hollywood actress embroiled in the celebrity circuit, which is a good choice for her. Martin Crimp’s modern adaptation is in verse, and the rhythm of the lines occasionally catches her out. She’s in the midst of experienced stage actors who, in the main, handle it much better, though initially I’m a bit worried about Damian Lewis’s diction.

Most of the characters in the play are manipulative and cynical. Whilst I can see why it seems a good idea to update it, I’m thinking it would probably have worked better in its original 17th Century setting. In the second act, I’m proved right, as an excuse is found for a 17th Century costume party, and in the last scene the play fizzes with a life it didn’t have before. The costumes are fabulous. Keira actually looks better in period costume, as the dress disguises something of her extreme skinniness. She does lack a 17th Century bosom though*.

I like the performances of Dominic Rowan as Alceste's best friend (and the most sympathetic character), and Tara Fitzgerald as an acting coach. I find I can't blame Alceste when he storms out on the lot of them. The cast is a strong one, but occasionally I feel they're having to work really hard to cover some of the cracks in the play.

*No amount of ‘hoicking your boobs up’, which used to be my instruction to customers in costume hire, would work here.

'How many ages hence shall this our lofty scene be acted o'er, in states unborn, and accents yet unknown'

One day, and 200 miles later, and I was in Newcastle for the evening performance of Julius Caesar at the Theatre Royal. Setting aside the annoying children* in the row in front of us, who fidgeted throughout, and were distracting until I was fully gripped by the performance, I really enjoyed Lucy Bailey’s production.

It's a play which, every time I see it, makes me reflect on what it says about war, and the nature of man. Very modern in so many ways. I think this production would have gripped me even more in the Courtyard Theatre, where the audience would have ‘become’ the citizens of Rome that Brutus and Mark Antony appeal to, wrapped around the thrust stage. The actors had to work harder in a proscenium arch theatre to involve the audience, and it too a while to get into it.

I really liked Greg Hicks’s Caesar, as he captured the hubris of the man. This Caesar was a danger to the republic because he was still climbing the greasy political pole, whereas I have seen Caesars in the past who were doddery old men.

Bailey used projection of crowds onto screens at the back of the stage, mingled with the actors, to represent the people of Rome, and whilst effective I felt that sometimes this was used too much.

The conspirators were a nervy bunch, almost afraid to carry out their plan. The murder itself was gripping; whilst knowing what was to happen, it made you hold your breath. The speeches after the murder were even more so, with Brutus’s fatal error in allowing Mark Antony to speak to the crowd turning them from supporters of the conspirators to a pack baying for their blood.

I loved Darrell D’Silva’s portrayal of Mark Antony as a fleshy boozer of a man, who was devastated by the murder of Caesar and in his performance you could easily see the seeds of what the character becomes in Antony and Cleopatra. You could already see the antagonism between him and Octavious, uneasy allies against the conspirators. D'Silva will play Antony in the later play next summer, and I'm quite excited by the prospect.

As the chief conspirators, Sam Troughton’s Brutus and John Mackay’s Cassius (definitely ‘lean and hungry’) missed some of the depth of the relationship between the two, perhaps because Mackay’s Cassius was a master manipulator of his friend.

Troughton’s Brutus was much younger than usual, which made it difficult to understand why the other conspirators should defer to him, and be so keen to have his support. Yet his performance as the good and noble man, trying to do what he felt was right for the state, yet constantly making the wrong decision, moved me, and I found myself in tears at his death.

I felt it was a much stronger production than Twelfth Night, not relying on 'stunt casting'. Perhaps some of the choices didn't always work, but they were always more interesting than those made by Doran.

*Who would take two young girls to Julius Caesar? It’s not the best way to introduce them to Shakespeare, and they were clearly bored to tears.

This seems such a good idea, it's surprising no one else has thought of it

The last time we went to the theatre in Newcastle, we discovered Starters and Puds, just over the road from the Theatre Royal, and couldn't understand why others hadn't thought of this. A menu consisting of 'starters' (actually probably more like tapas style dishes), side orders, and puds, with can be ordered at the same time.

So as soon as we had decided to go and see the RSC in Newcastle, the next thought was 'and we can go to Starters and Puds'. Given the distance we had to travel, the plan was to have our starter pre-performance, and our pud post-show. A brilliant way to avoid the pre-theatre indigestion which I tend to induce in people with my anxiety not to be late.

We were a bit surprised to get there and be told that owing to some mix up with the licensing, they actually couldn't serve any alcohol, so I was despatched to the off licence round the corner, and returned with a very acceptable bottle of chilled pinot grigio.

The food was lovely, and we pre-ordered our puds to return to them after the show, as the kitchen would have closed by then. That's Shakespeare for you, you pretty much only just get out in time for last orders. It also caused a bit of a quandary, as, as we were leaving the theatre they announced there was to be a post-show talk back with the actors. Now, I wouldn't walk away from that very often, and was very torn. But pud was calling, and, what's more, it was paid for. I'm not Yorkshire for nothing.

It was quite delicious too. I'm now wondering what else I can go and see at the Theatre Royal?

Where I discover once again that I don't have a lot in common with the people I work with

I did a lot of interviewing last week. 3 days of it. Some candidates didn’t turn up, and didn’t have the courtesy to let us know they weren’t coming, so there was some hanging around waiting, and making conversation with colleagues. The thing about work is that usually we’re so busy, we don’t actually talk to each other, not about anything other than work that is.

At one point, I find myself chatting to our medical director, who tells me that he was in Stratford last week, and went to the theatre. At least he knows enough about me to know I like theatre.

‘Oh, what did you see?’
‘As You Like It.’
‘What did you think?’

‘I really liked the theatre. As for the play, well, I have seen it before, many years ago, but I did find it hard going, trying to work out what they were saying.
We left at the interval’

I can’t actually say anything, as I’m gaping rather.

‘Well, I look at it this way. I’d enjoyed it up to that point, and felt that I’d seen enough. If I’d have stayed, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it so much. And, after all, I have seen it before.’

‘I have my shocked face on, don’t I?’

Theatre Snob's guide to a day at the Fringe

In the interests of anyone thinking of a day trip to the Fringe, and following on from the Fringe guides I’ve written over the last couple of years, here are my tips:

1. Plan ahead. It is possible to get there in time for Shakespeare for Breakfast, but you need to get your tickets in advance, as the Fringe office doesn’t open in time to pick them up.

2. Where possible, select some shows with food (see Shakespeare for Breakfast, there are also shows which provide cake!) or take snacks with you. The Pleasance bar had sold out of crisps!!

3. Plan your venues, so you’re not chasing from Old Town to New Town and back again. I didn’t venture across to the New Town at all, and all my venues were within easy reach of each other.

4. Don’t queue for tickets at the Fringe Office. Most main venues have their own box office or internet access, so you can purchase tickets, or print out pre-booked ones, without queuing

5. Give yourself some breathing space. Smell the coffee, (and drink some too, with an early start, you’ll need the caffeine), even if you only have an hour between shows.

6. Absorb the atmosphere. Pleasance Courtyard/Pleasance Dome are great places to people watch. The Dome also has a good range of snacks, and has the added benefit of being indoors if wet. The wine can get watered down by the rain in the Courtyard!

7. Look around you. Tomorrow’s stars are here, as well as some of todays.

8. Chat. People are here because they love theatre/music/comedy/culture. So do you, so you already have things in common, and they may suggest a show you hadn’t thought of seeing.

9. Accept that things will clash/be full/be not logistically possible to see. Love seeing what you do. There’s always another year.

10. Have a large handbag – for snacks, brolly (sadly essential for the last few years), pashmina, and all the brochures, magazines and fliers you will undoubtedly pick up.

11. Travel home first class. It’s much more civilized and relaxing than standard class.

12. Finally, enjoy your day. And when you arrive home, think about next year!