We had a lovely Christmas. It was our second Christmas in London, just my husband and me. Which I suppose can sound sad and lonely, if Christmas to you means a house full o' kids and grandparents and neighbors. But there is something peaceful - and romantic - about Christmas spent as a couple, in a foreign country, far away from family obligations. (Don't get us wrong, we love our families and friends, and a good portion of the day was devoted to phone calls to the States.)
We woke up late, then breakfasted on that rarest of North American treats - proper buttermilk pancakes, with real maple syrup. Pancakes here are sad affairs, more like a French crepe than a griddle cake. But thanks to Costco, which is virtually identical on both sides of the Atlantic, we were able to whip up Krusteaz's finest. We exchanged presents, from the ridiculous - wine gums and Hobnobs - to the sublime. Our local pub was open Christmas afternoon, so we took the chess set and found ourselves a perch, drinking winter Pimms and eating mince pies while chasing rooks and pawns up and down the board. Then we rambled around Holland Park with our camera, taking photos of black bunnies and incandescent peacocks and the special Christmas Day guest star, a blue heron. Then home to prepare dinner: turkey and stuffing from the butcher; brussels sprouts, roast potatoes and cranberries from the greengrocer; champagne from the wine shop. All bought within a two block radius of our flat, and all of amazing quality.
I made pumpkin pie for dessert. I tried to save time by using storebought pie crust and, well, that was a mistake. Although the pie tasted fine, it certainly wasn't deep dish, or even medium dish. Still, it was an improvement over the last time we ate pumpkin pie in London, at the Ritz - that was whipped cream sprinkled with nutmeg served over a thin scraping of pumpkin puree.
In all, it was a Christmas to remember. A time to recharge and relax, to spend time together as a couple, to reflect and plan. Christmas in London is lovely not because of the decorations - for the most part, the British don't decorate their home exteriors (that's too gauche and, well, American) and the lights in the West End shopping district pale next to any US civic center with an ounce of pride - but because it is so quiet. No public transportation. No open businesses. I don't know what non-Christians do on Christmas because there are zero options other than sitting at home and watching the Queen's speech on the telly. No going to the movies and eating take out Chinese - the Dec. 25 tradition kept by nearly all my Jewish friends (and a lot of my Christian ones as well).
Which leads me to the recent hoop-de-doo over whether one should say "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays" when addressing people you don't know well. I read about the Wal-mart flap, with picketers demanding that Wal-Mart stop using the generic "Holidays" in favor of the specific "Christmas" on their in-store signs. Some Brits are also up in arms over which greeting to use; it was a topic of conversation on BBC Radio London and the subject of at least two editorials in the Times. The Brits came down heavily on the side of "Merry Christmas," with the various reasons including a) the UK is a Christian country, with a head of state who is also the head of the Church of England; b) Political correctness is an American virus that needs to be rooted out in the UK; c) December 25 IS Christmas, after all, it's a factual statement and you're just wishing them a pleasant day.
I'm going with "Happy Holidays."
Why? Are I some godless heathen? Some politically correct namby-pamby?
No, not really. It's because I am a Christian. And Christmas Day is the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, the human son of God, born of Mary. It is a holy day, and while the presents and the food and the decorations are lots of fun, they're not what the day is about.
But I am aware that not everyone believes in Christ. Or even if they live in a household where Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny leave presents every year, they might not have made the very personal and intimate choice to have a deeper relationship with God. That's cool. I'm so not a proselytizing evangelical. Makes me break out in hives.
And the tree and the stockings and the wrapping paper and the fat guy dressed in red: those are pretty swell traditions. They're fun. More power to those who want to celebrate them. And now that I live on a northerly latitude I totally get why the ancients brought greenery inside the house and lit Yule logs - the days are dark and dreary, with sunrise at eight a.m. and sunset at four p.m. Christmas lights and mulled wine and hot mince pies make a short day almost preferable - the sooner the sun sets, the sooner the lights glow, the more inviting the pub looks.
But while these are trappings of Christmas, they're not really Christmas.
And not everyone celebrates Christmas. Get over it, Wal-Mart protestors. You live in a country founded on the principle of religious freedom, a country that rejected the establishment of a state religion.
Christmas can't be bought in a store. Christmas isn't a generic greeting to be handed off to one and all. "Happy Holidays" is so much more appropriate in a commercial and general social setting.
I don't want to be wished a Happy Rosh Hashanah or Happy Eid or Happy Diwali. Not because these are worthless, nothing celebrations - they're not. They are very important, very significant days. But they are not my holy days.
Why should those to whom these are the most holy days of year be wished a Merry Christmas? Why should those who don't have any religious beliefs be wished it as well?
Shouldn't "Merry Christmas" - as an expression of well wishes - be saved for those who revere Christ and commemorate his birth?
And shouldn't "Happy Holidays" - or "Season's Greetings" - be used for the commercial frenzy that, as fun as it all is, is rather incongruous as the celebration of a humble birth in a lowly stable? Not to mention that "Happy Holidays" is also a statement of fact - after all, New Year's is just a week later, and it also encompasses Hanukkah and Kwaanza.
I honestly don't get what there is to protest.
Or am I missing something?
2005-12-27
2005-12-13
More theatre!
It's almost the end of 2005, and time for the second half of the year theatre recap.
Since the last theatre entry, we've seen:
Guys and Dolls, with Ewan McGregor and Jane Krakowski, co-produced by Donmar Warehouse
This was a TERRIFIC production. I've always liked Jane Krakowski, and thought she stole the TV series "Ally McBeal" from all those stick figure girls who got all the newsprint. She was born to play Miss Adelaide, the burlesque dancer who just wants Nathan Detroit to make an honest woman out of her after being engaged for fourteen years. Adorable and sexy, she lit up the stage. The headlining star was Ewan McGregor, who has a pleasant voice and is far from difficult on the eyes (as millions of female Star Wars fans can attest). His Skye Masterson was appealing enough, and he turned up the sexual heat in the Havana nightclub number. But Krakowski and Douglas Hodge, who played Detroit, really shone. Score another steal from the big name star for Krakowski. One of my favorite West End musicals of the year.
Twelfth Night, Open Air Theatre in Regent's Park
Shakespeare in the park, London style. An absolutely gorgeous production, in which Regent's Park is turned into a tropical Spanish island colony. And there's a parrot. And they serve sangria at the bar. Not a difficult night out at all. Oh, and there's shipwrecked siblings, star-crossed lovers, lots of cross-dressing, and did I mention the parrot? OK, I might have had more sangria than was good for my comprehension of Shakespearean language. But it's hard to go wrong watching theatre in a beautiful setting on a lovely summer night.
Aristocrats by Brian Friel, at the National
A dysfunctional Irish family gathers at the ancestral pile as their father withers away. Gina McKee was v. v. good, but the play was sloooow, I had worked a long day, and, well, I was asleep long before the father died.
Theatre of Blood with Jim Broadbent, at the National
This was my husband's favorite play of 2005 (so far). A re-imagination of the 1973 Vincent Price MGM film, the stage play was a collaboration with Improbable Theatre. Broadbent played Edward Lionheart, an over-the-top Shakespearean actor who disappeared after a particularly vicious public dissing by seven theatre critics. Several years later, those same critics find themselves invited to an abandoned theatre. Each critic has an invite that is specifically tailored to flatter their pretensions. They soon learn that Lionheart is out to exact revenge, picking them off one by one in gruesome, gory and laugh-out-loud scenarios taken from Shakespeare. Campy but stylish fun, pulled off with panache.
Mary Stuart by Friedrich Schiller, with Janet McTeer and Harriet Walter, at Donmar Warehouse
Absolutely amazing acting, and my favorite play of 2005. We saw it in the very intimate setting of the Donmar Warehouse (it has since transferred to a larger venue), which really emphasized the personal in the politics played between the two Queens and cousins, and between Elizabeth and her courtiers. The play isn't historically accurate - the most riveting scene, in which a disheveled, passionate, impulsive Mary, Queen of Scots meets the impeccably groomed and emotionally controlled Elizabeth I, never happened - but it's theatre at its most compelling.
Henry IV, Part 1 and Part 2, with Matthew Macfadyen and Michael Gambon, at the National, directed by Nicholas Hynter
This production received mixed reviews and I'm not sure why, because I was riveted from the opening: King Henry standing on a battlefield still smoking from the conflict, with distraught women crying over their dead kinfolk in the background.
I sometimes have a hard time listening to Shakespeare's language as I grew up reading his plays instead of seeing them performed. I have no problem with his words on paper, but spoken Shakespeare is rather difficult to follow. Not this play. The language felt fresh and immediate, as current as the nightly news. This was helped by the production design, which was spare and elegant, suggesting medieval England but also the 21st century.
Both Macfadyen and Gambon have big Hollywood movies out now, but while Matthew Macfadyen's Prince Hal shared some of Mr. Darcy's mannerisms, Gambon's Falstaff was 180 degrees from Dumbledore.
HMS Pinafore by Gilbert & Sullivan, Open Air Theatre at Regent's Park
I drank less sangria this time (it was later in the summer and starting to get cold at night). In 7th grade, I was in the chorus of the school production of Pinafore, but either I've forgotten much of it or it was radically shortened (and cleaned up - don't remember all the baby switching) for our budding adolescent attention spans. And this production turned Deadeye Dick into a comic one man Greek chorus, breaking the fourth wall to explain the Victorian in-jokes. All good fun, cheerful and colorful.
The History Boys by Alan Bennett, directed by Nicholas Hytner, at the National
The History Boys will be transitioning to Broadway soon, and the play returned to the National for its run-up. I enjoyed this play, very much, even if some of the jokes and references were completely lost on me. Set in a grammar school (aka high school) in Northern England in the late 80s, the play is a rumination on education, coming of age, sexual identity and moral trade-offs. A group of male students are earmarked by the headmaster as "Oxbridge" prospects. However, the school has a terrible track record at prepping students for their entrance exams. The headmaster hires a teacher with Oxbridge credentials to ready the boys for their exams. However, the new teacher, who coaches the students to give the answers the examiners want to hear, conflicts with the boys' regular teacher who wants to teach them to think for themselves via a solid grounding in the classics. It's a very smart play, very funny play, very moving play. Highly recommended, although I'm curious how well it will transfer to the States - our high schools are very different. And even after 18 months in Britian, my husband and I missed quite a few jokes that had the rest of the audience in the aisles, while we found otherselves the only ones laughing in other spots.
2000 Years by Mike Leigh, at the National
This play sold out before it had a title. Leigh is famous for gathering a troupe of actors and improvising the play during rehearsal. This particular play turned out to be about a family of secular British Jews who are shocked and horrified when their grown son becomes devout and even *gasp* says his daily prayers. I have lots of respect for Leigh but 2000 Years felt like a small, sad tempest in a teapot; I'm sure it is because I am a Los Angeleno who has had lots of exposure to Jewish culture and especially to Jewish families that this didn't feel at all fresh or new (despite au courant references to Katrina and the Gaza pull-out.) Leigh didn't say anything about being Jewish in an Anglo world that Woody Allen didn't say better and funnier 20 years ago, and since religion is not quite the four letter word in America that it is Britian, the mishegaas over the son's religious awakening felt especially forced to me. A watchable play, with some really great acting, but worth skipping.
Ducktastic directed by Kenneth Branagh
We really wanted to see this. And it got some good reviews. So imagine our surprise when the producers announced that the show was closing early and all seats were just ten pounds.
As it turns out, ten pounds was rather steep. A really, really confused show - a cross between a Christmas panto, a magic act and a sketch comedy run amuck. Plus live ducks. My husband is convinced that the show came into being after someone muttered "duck knows" instead of its ruder cousin, only for another person to say "Eureka! What a great line on which to build a West End musical!"
It had some moments: Sean Foley is an incredibly gifted physical comedian, and I enjoyed his rubbery dances. Some of the illusions were spectacular (others, merely stupid). And I'm a sucker for live animals on stage, even large white ducks.
But since I'm not British, the cross-dressing, the faux nudity and the really bad puns were just lost on me. Sorry, Kenneth.
God of Hell by Sam Shepard, at Donmar Warehouse
I am a fan of Shepard's writing. But God of Hell is not one of his strongest efforts. It hits you over the head with a frying pan, and then just to make sure you get the message, it hits you with a side of beef, several plant pots, electric shock torture and finishes off with a nuclear bang.
Shepard's play - more like a rant - is a warning about the neo-cons leading America into a totalitarian future decorated with stars and stripes. And I hear ya, Sam. I'm not too happy about the neo-cons, either. But this the play is so dissonant that the message assaults the audience almost as much the neo-con character in the play assaults the military experiment escapee.
Lesley Sharp is very good as Emma, the one character who resists the neo-con's seductions and/or tortures. But overall, all I can say about the play is thankfully it was only a one-act.
We also saw two Broadway musicals this year, both more than worth the price of the ticket: Spamalot (and we paid exhorbiant ticket broker fees) and Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. Norbert Leo Butz is my new theater crush.
We have two more plays before the end of the New Year: the Royal Shakespeare Company's Great Expectations at Stratford-Upon-Avon and Patrick Stewart's one-man A Christmas Carol. And we've already got tickets for next year: more from the RSC (this year they're doing the Complete Works of Shakespeare, and we've tickets to a few of them), Resurrection Blues at the Old Vic, Once in a Lifetime at the National, and finally Billy Elliot in March. I love living in London!
Since the last theatre entry, we've seen:
Guys and Dolls, with Ewan McGregor and Jane Krakowski, co-produced by Donmar Warehouse
This was a TERRIFIC production. I've always liked Jane Krakowski, and thought she stole the TV series "Ally McBeal" from all those stick figure girls who got all the newsprint. She was born to play Miss Adelaide, the burlesque dancer who just wants Nathan Detroit to make an honest woman out of her after being engaged for fourteen years. Adorable and sexy, she lit up the stage. The headlining star was Ewan McGregor, who has a pleasant voice and is far from difficult on the eyes (as millions of female Star Wars fans can attest). His Skye Masterson was appealing enough, and he turned up the sexual heat in the Havana nightclub number. But Krakowski and Douglas Hodge, who played Detroit, really shone. Score another steal from the big name star for Krakowski. One of my favorite West End musicals of the year.
Twelfth Night, Open Air Theatre in Regent's Park
Shakespeare in the park, London style. An absolutely gorgeous production, in which Regent's Park is turned into a tropical Spanish island colony. And there's a parrot. And they serve sangria at the bar. Not a difficult night out at all. Oh, and there's shipwrecked siblings, star-crossed lovers, lots of cross-dressing, and did I mention the parrot? OK, I might have had more sangria than was good for my comprehension of Shakespearean language. But it's hard to go wrong watching theatre in a beautiful setting on a lovely summer night.
Aristocrats by Brian Friel, at the National
A dysfunctional Irish family gathers at the ancestral pile as their father withers away. Gina McKee was v. v. good, but the play was sloooow, I had worked a long day, and, well, I was asleep long before the father died.
Theatre of Blood with Jim Broadbent, at the National
This was my husband's favorite play of 2005 (so far). A re-imagination of the 1973 Vincent Price MGM film, the stage play was a collaboration with Improbable Theatre. Broadbent played Edward Lionheart, an over-the-top Shakespearean actor who disappeared after a particularly vicious public dissing by seven theatre critics. Several years later, those same critics find themselves invited to an abandoned theatre. Each critic has an invite that is specifically tailored to flatter their pretensions. They soon learn that Lionheart is out to exact revenge, picking them off one by one in gruesome, gory and laugh-out-loud scenarios taken from Shakespeare. Campy but stylish fun, pulled off with panache.
Mary Stuart by Friedrich Schiller, with Janet McTeer and Harriet Walter, at Donmar Warehouse
Absolutely amazing acting, and my favorite play of 2005. We saw it in the very intimate setting of the Donmar Warehouse (it has since transferred to a larger venue), which really emphasized the personal in the politics played between the two Queens and cousins, and between Elizabeth and her courtiers. The play isn't historically accurate - the most riveting scene, in which a disheveled, passionate, impulsive Mary, Queen of Scots meets the impeccably groomed and emotionally controlled Elizabeth I, never happened - but it's theatre at its most compelling.
Henry IV, Part 1 and Part 2, with Matthew Macfadyen and Michael Gambon, at the National, directed by Nicholas Hynter
This production received mixed reviews and I'm not sure why, because I was riveted from the opening: King Henry standing on a battlefield still smoking from the conflict, with distraught women crying over their dead kinfolk in the background.
I sometimes have a hard time listening to Shakespeare's language as I grew up reading his plays instead of seeing them performed. I have no problem with his words on paper, but spoken Shakespeare is rather difficult to follow. Not this play. The language felt fresh and immediate, as current as the nightly news. This was helped by the production design, which was spare and elegant, suggesting medieval England but also the 21st century.
Both Macfadyen and Gambon have big Hollywood movies out now, but while Matthew Macfadyen's Prince Hal shared some of Mr. Darcy's mannerisms, Gambon's Falstaff was 180 degrees from Dumbledore.
HMS Pinafore by Gilbert & Sullivan, Open Air Theatre at Regent's Park
I drank less sangria this time (it was later in the summer and starting to get cold at night). In 7th grade, I was in the chorus of the school production of Pinafore, but either I've forgotten much of it or it was radically shortened (and cleaned up - don't remember all the baby switching) for our budding adolescent attention spans. And this production turned Deadeye Dick into a comic one man Greek chorus, breaking the fourth wall to explain the Victorian in-jokes. All good fun, cheerful and colorful.
The History Boys by Alan Bennett, directed by Nicholas Hytner, at the National
The History Boys will be transitioning to Broadway soon, and the play returned to the National for its run-up. I enjoyed this play, very much, even if some of the jokes and references were completely lost on me. Set in a grammar school (aka high school) in Northern England in the late 80s, the play is a rumination on education, coming of age, sexual identity and moral trade-offs. A group of male students are earmarked by the headmaster as "Oxbridge" prospects. However, the school has a terrible track record at prepping students for their entrance exams. The headmaster hires a teacher with Oxbridge credentials to ready the boys for their exams. However, the new teacher, who coaches the students to give the answers the examiners want to hear, conflicts with the boys' regular teacher who wants to teach them to think for themselves via a solid grounding in the classics. It's a very smart play, very funny play, very moving play. Highly recommended, although I'm curious how well it will transfer to the States - our high schools are very different. And even after 18 months in Britian, my husband and I missed quite a few jokes that had the rest of the audience in the aisles, while we found otherselves the only ones laughing in other spots.
2000 Years by Mike Leigh, at the National
This play sold out before it had a title. Leigh is famous for gathering a troupe of actors and improvising the play during rehearsal. This particular play turned out to be about a family of secular British Jews who are shocked and horrified when their grown son becomes devout and even *gasp* says his daily prayers. I have lots of respect for Leigh but 2000 Years felt like a small, sad tempest in a teapot; I'm sure it is because I am a Los Angeleno who has had lots of exposure to Jewish culture and especially to Jewish families that this didn't feel at all fresh or new (despite au courant references to Katrina and the Gaza pull-out.) Leigh didn't say anything about being Jewish in an Anglo world that Woody Allen didn't say better and funnier 20 years ago, and since religion is not quite the four letter word in America that it is Britian, the mishegaas over the son's religious awakening felt especially forced to me. A watchable play, with some really great acting, but worth skipping.
Ducktastic directed by Kenneth Branagh
We really wanted to see this. And it got some good reviews. So imagine our surprise when the producers announced that the show was closing early and all seats were just ten pounds.
As it turns out, ten pounds was rather steep. A really, really confused show - a cross between a Christmas panto, a magic act and a sketch comedy run amuck. Plus live ducks. My husband is convinced that the show came into being after someone muttered "duck knows" instead of its ruder cousin, only for another person to say "Eureka! What a great line on which to build a West End musical!"
It had some moments: Sean Foley is an incredibly gifted physical comedian, and I enjoyed his rubbery dances. Some of the illusions were spectacular (others, merely stupid). And I'm a sucker for live animals on stage, even large white ducks.
But since I'm not British, the cross-dressing, the faux nudity and the really bad puns were just lost on me. Sorry, Kenneth.
God of Hell by Sam Shepard, at Donmar Warehouse
I am a fan of Shepard's writing. But God of Hell is not one of his strongest efforts. It hits you over the head with a frying pan, and then just to make sure you get the message, it hits you with a side of beef, several plant pots, electric shock torture and finishes off with a nuclear bang.
Shepard's play - more like a rant - is a warning about the neo-cons leading America into a totalitarian future decorated with stars and stripes. And I hear ya, Sam. I'm not too happy about the neo-cons, either. But this the play is so dissonant that the message assaults the audience almost as much the neo-con character in the play assaults the military experiment escapee.
Lesley Sharp is very good as Emma, the one character who resists the neo-con's seductions and/or tortures. But overall, all I can say about the play is thankfully it was only a one-act.
We also saw two Broadway musicals this year, both more than worth the price of the ticket: Spamalot (and we paid exhorbiant ticket broker fees) and Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. Norbert Leo Butz is my new theater crush.
We have two more plays before the end of the New Year: the Royal Shakespeare Company's Great Expectations at Stratford-Upon-Avon and Patrick Stewart's one-man A Christmas Carol. And we've already got tickets for next year: more from the RSC (this year they're doing the Complete Works of Shakespeare, and we've tickets to a few of them), Resurrection Blues at the Old Vic, Once in a Lifetime at the National, and finally Billy Elliot in March. I love living in London!
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