I don’t know what can have been the cause, but last night I dreamt I was voice coaching Theresa May. It can’t be because I want her brand of politics to get a better hearing, I find it abhorrent. Maybe it’s just because she makes so many speeches which we get to hear bits of on the news, and they are always so boring. In my dream I was showing her how back in the 80s Not the Nine O’clock News satirised politicians, pointing out similarities between the satire and her own delivery. Awake, I think The Two Ronnies might have been better source material. I know I spent some time trying to stop her saying ‘I’m very clear’ so maybe it was in the interests of my health, as any politician who says they are or have been clear generally means the opposite, and it winds me up. What we were aiming for in my dream was a little spontaneity, some glimpse of the person she presumably is. Perhaps I should have got her to talk about kitten heels. Continue reading
Absent from blogging but enjoying some pre-Christmas culture and seeing Henry IV part one on Monday, and part two last night.
Fabulous fabulous RSC productions with Anthony Sher outrageously good as Falstaff. So good you think you must have dreamt he was that good. The comic timing in the comic bits was brilliant and a wonderful counterbalance to the serious bits. That Billy Shakespeare knew what he was doing.
How Harry Hotspur's wife put up with him I do not know. Short fused doesn't begin to describe him. ADHD at the very least. Continue reading
Just home from the Globe where it was the first night of a new play, featuring music by Purcell, called Gabriel.
Let me say straight off that the music is fabulous, there was some great acting, comic and poignant moments. But it wasn’t Shakespeare. Obvious I know, but when a theatre is so associated with the work of someone acknowledged as the finest writer in the English language, it is a pretty big ask of any other writer to come up with something in any way comparable. And don’t say Racine or Corneille. Good playwrights both, but it’s only the French who write books comparing them to Bill S. they are not in the same league. No one is.
I love seeing Shakespeare’s plays performed at the Globe, even the unbelievably bloody and violent Coriolanus a few years back. There is something seeing his plays in this theatre that is just magical. And the ending is always spectacular and heart lifting and joyous. Continue reading
Has anyone else heard of this play? Or am I alone in my ignorance?
I rather fancy seeing it, and have put out feelers to theatre loving pals. It’s on at the Union Theatre in, um, Union Street. Yep, they stayed up all night thinking of that name. It’s a fringe venue housed in a railway arch and run by the indefatigable Sasha Regan. If you have caught the tube to Southwark, then walked to Tate Modern following the guiding orange lamp posts you’ll have gone past it.
You’ll have seen the Shard too. This is Southwark. Seeing the Shard from wherever you are is now virtually a Southwark requirement. Actually I can see St Paul’s from the end of my street too, but I won’t go on about that or you may want to hit me and I am fragile. Back to the Union Theatre. I could write lots about this theatre, but I shan’t, at least not now, because I haven’t got much time. Just make a note of it, especially if you like musicals, which I understand is a particular love of Germans. Continue reading