I'm spending the last day of 2006 getting ready for 2007.
Namely, this means taking down the Christmas tree.
Normally, I would leave the tree up until Epiphany, January 6. But this year the tree took matters into its own hands by shedding nearly every needle in a shower of green, carpeting our carpet a quarter-inch thick in prickly, not even all that fragrant debris. We ordered it from the same company who delivered last year's tree, a gorgeous, well-behaved fir that stayed pliant and fresh throughout the festive season. We're not quite sure what happened this year - we filled the stand with water and tree food, we placed it away from radiators and other sources of heat, we festooned it with cheerful lights and glass ornaments. But the tree has clearly had enough of our company and is dying - literally - to leave. The poor thing is a bare brown twig skeleton. Oh well, off you go to the council recycling program on Tuesday. May you be happier in your next incarnation.
I'm also catching up on newspaper reading. In the 24 December Sunday TImes Style magazine, Bethan Cole mentions that she has been to the US twice in the last two weeks - oy, the jet lag and the carbon emissions - and she has two whole thoughts on the experience. One, bring Anthropologie to the UK. A sentiment I heartily endorse, even if Bethan completely missed Anthropologie's USP (and Bethan, if it is Korres body lotion you are after, try the link or your local John Lewis. Or pop across the Channel and go to Monoprix, aka the French Target.)
Bethan's second complete thought is that American nail bars offer good value. I'm not sure what an American nail "bar" is - unlike the Brits, Americans don't need to relate eveything to alcohol - but yes, American nail salons are far more cost effective than anything in the UK. This is why my cuticles are ragged, my hang nails hang all ten, and my nails are split and uneven. I ain't paying $40 for a basic polish job.
What Bethan failed to point out is that almost EVERYTHING is better value in the US than the UK. It's called an "exchange rate," dear Bethan, and at the moment the US dollar is very weak compared to the pound. It's all well and good that Bethan is calling for cheap manicure/pedicure options in the UK - hey, I'd be happy, but then I am easily pleased- but how can a nail technician earn a living wage in London if only charging US rates? It's not like the cost of living here will also be accordingly adjusted. And that's assuming that manicurists even make a living wage in the US.
No, sadly, mani/pedis in the UK remain a treat, high on the self indulgent scale. And that's okay.
Not the most erudite thoughts as we enter 2007, but hey, blame the Sunday Times for today's shallow post.
And a very happy New Year to all!
2006-12-31
2006-12-29
Semi-Annual Theatre Review: Part Three
Picking up where I left off...
A Midsummer Night's Dream at Open Air Theatre in Regent's Park
While we've seen some great Shakespeare during the RSC Complete Works Festival, this production was one of our favorite interpretations of the Bard in 2006. First, what better setting for an enchanted forest than a stage in a wooded area of a Royal Park? Second, it was cast so exceedingly well. Third, the play's design was beautiful and appropriate to the production's tone (Edwardian costumes for the humans, raggedy street urchin/punk for the fairies.) The three female leads: Sirine Saba, Summer Strallen, and Sheridan Smith - try saying those three times fast! - were excellent, adroit at physical comedy and pathos alike. A really lovely theatre experience, but then what isn't there to like about sipping Pimm's cups under a twilight sky while watching mortals (and fairies) make fools of themselves?
Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell, starring Tom Conti
We primarily booked this to see Tom Conti perform on stage. And perform he does; while there are other cast members, this is essentially a one-man show. We didn't know who Jeffrey Bernard was going into the play, and we don't particularly care to know more about him after. Perhaps this would have resonated more with us if we had grown up with Bernard's writing. But seeing as this was basically two hours of Conti stumbling around as the perpetually vodka-soaked Bernard, and seeing as my husband and I lack the British fascination with people in possession of engorged livers, this fell flat on its face for us long before Conti took the first of many drunken pratfalls. Under the Black Flag will probably be the worst theatre experience of the 21st century for me and Jeffrey Bernard came nowhere near that nadir - but it certainly wasn't a high point, either.
Love's Labour's Lost, performed by Shakespeare Theater Company of Washington D.C. at the RSC
The RSC's Complete Works Festival is not limited to performances by the RSC; they invited companies from all over the world to perform their own interpretations. The Shakespeare Theater Company took on Love's Labour's Lost and gave it a 1960s spin, turning the princes seeking knowledge into Beatlesque rock stars seeking enlightment, and turning the Kingdom of Navarre into an Indian ashram. It worked amazingly well. This was a fun, bright, bold production, from the mod outfits to the Indian influenced set. When the princes delivered sonnets to their lady loves, they were in the form of rock songs and ballads instead of declaimed poetry, bringing the scene alive. The performances were terrific, especially Hank Stratton's Berowne and Amir Arison's King Ferdinand. For the women, Sabrina LeBeauf especially stood out among the Princess's ladies. She hasn't aged one day since The Cosby Show - and this was in the Swan Theatre, where we could see the actors up close. We loved this production for its energy and joie de vivre. (And for including the Frito-Lay bandito song, even if once more we found ourselves the only ones giggling at a US-centric joke. What can I saw, we're easy to please.)
The Taming of the Shrew at Open Air Theatre in Regent's Park
Sadly, magic didn't strike twice at the Open Air Theatre, despite this production having most of the same cast as A Midsummer's Night Dream. Perhaps if we had seen this production first, we would have liked it more - but the earlier play set very high expectations. Sirine Saba, who played such an elegant, imperious Titiana in Midsummer, was here merely grating and annoying. Yes, Katherina is a shrew, but we're still supposed to have empathy for her. Same for John Hodgkinson's Petruchio. He came off as a mean, cruel misogynist. One wished that the two would get lost and freeze to death on the way to Petruchio's home. The ending scene, where Kate docilely submits to Petruchio, felt creepy and disturbing, with zero sexual chemistry. And Sheridan Smith, so fabulous as Hermia, was a simpering and cloying Bianca. I can only blame the director, as the cast that gelled to perfection in Midsummer was sodden and unpalatable in this production. Not even the Pimm's cups could make me like like this version of Shrew.
Sunday in the Park with George, music & lyrics by Stephen Sondheim
Another musical using video projection onto blank walls in lieu of stage sets (see: Woman in White). But unlike the earlier production, in which the projection WAS the raison d'etre for the show (or at least it felt that way), here the projection is used to highlight, emphasize and make witty asides. It helped to create an incredibly satisfying whole, instead of overwhelming all else. Of course, I vastly prefer Sondheim to Lloyd Webber so I may be biased...
King John, performed in repertory by the Royal Shakespeare Company
One of the best aspects of the RSC's Complete Works Festival is seeing Shakespeare plays that are rarely mentioned, much less performed. One of Will's early efforts, King John examines the monarch mostly known for being a thumb-sucking cowardly lion in Disney's version of Robin Hood. Oh, and for signing the Magna Carta, of course.
In this production, Richard McCabe as the titular king did seem to have drawn some inspiration from Disney; his John was a fractious, spoiled tyrant, at once imperious yet fearful. But for all that, it was a performance that demands your attention. While John was never a figure of admiration, you understood his motivations and empathized when his machinations involving his usurped nephew Arthur go awry. Tamsin Greig, whom I've only seen play comedic roles on television, was an intense, forbidding Constance, mourning her son and vowing revenge with an intensity that left goosebumps. And Joseph Millson stole the stage whenever he was on it as the Bastard. An involving production, one that I enjoyed very much.
Much Ado About Nothing, performed in repertory by the Royal Shakespeare Company
The last Shakespeare production of the year for us, and what a high note to end on! This production sparkled from start to finish. Tamsin Greig and Joseph Millson played Beatrice and Benedick, set against the backdrop of 1950s Cuba. One could feel the steamy summer Havana night despite it being mid-December London outside. The soldiers were government men, fresh from a rebel skirmish. Beatrice wore sharp-shouldered jackets and tight pencil skirts to match her tone and mood; the virginal Hero wore full skirts and bows in her ponytail. The music was salsa, the lighting moody and suggestive - a complete feast for the senses.
Greig and Millson sparked and sparkled; their chemistry was palpable. (I'd love to see them perform Kate and Petruchio...) The eavesdropping scenes, in which Benedick hears of Beatrice's supposed love and vice versa, were models of physical comedy. Millson got to pretend he was a bush, while Greig had an inspired routine with a Vespa scooter. Yet the drama was also there in full force. When Beatrice begs Benedick to kill Claudio, it is a cry from a vengeful, grieving heart.
I could have done without the over-the-top-and-way-into-the-heavens camp Dogberry, but overall this production hit very few jarring notes. And the end, reminding us that while all may be merry right now but that this life would soon be ending when Castro takes power, was food for thought.
The 39 Steps, based on the 1935 Hitchcock film
This was non-stop fun from start to finish. Four actors play over 100 roles as they re-enact the Hitchcock film, inventively using props to suggest a moving train, a chase over the moors, an escape through a back window from a crofter's cottage, and other film-only scenarios (or so one would have thought...) The acting was terrific, the mood and tone light, and it even snows inside the theatre. (Warning: if you are in the first three rows, as we were, you'll need to wash your hair when you get home.) Highly recommended, and still on in London!
And that draws a curtain over 2006. In 2007 we have Spamalot to look forward to (we saw it in New York, but with obstructed view seats - I'm looking forward to having a full view of stage) as well as, you guessed it, more Shakespeare (F. Murray Abraham in The Merchant of Venice and Ian McKellen in King Lear among the tickets).
A Midsummer Night's Dream at Open Air Theatre in Regent's Park
While we've seen some great Shakespeare during the RSC Complete Works Festival, this production was one of our favorite interpretations of the Bard in 2006. First, what better setting for an enchanted forest than a stage in a wooded area of a Royal Park? Second, it was cast so exceedingly well. Third, the play's design was beautiful and appropriate to the production's tone (Edwardian costumes for the humans, raggedy street urchin/punk for the fairies.) The three female leads: Sirine Saba, Summer Strallen, and Sheridan Smith - try saying those three times fast! - were excellent, adroit at physical comedy and pathos alike. A really lovely theatre experience, but then what isn't there to like about sipping Pimm's cups under a twilight sky while watching mortals (and fairies) make fools of themselves?
Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell, starring Tom Conti
We primarily booked this to see Tom Conti perform on stage. And perform he does; while there are other cast members, this is essentially a one-man show. We didn't know who Jeffrey Bernard was going into the play, and we don't particularly care to know more about him after. Perhaps this would have resonated more with us if we had grown up with Bernard's writing. But seeing as this was basically two hours of Conti stumbling around as the perpetually vodka-soaked Bernard, and seeing as my husband and I lack the British fascination with people in possession of engorged livers, this fell flat on its face for us long before Conti took the first of many drunken pratfalls. Under the Black Flag will probably be the worst theatre experience of the 21st century for me and Jeffrey Bernard came nowhere near that nadir - but it certainly wasn't a high point, either.
Love's Labour's Lost, performed by Shakespeare Theater Company of Washington D.C. at the RSC
The RSC's Complete Works Festival is not limited to performances by the RSC; they invited companies from all over the world to perform their own interpretations. The Shakespeare Theater Company took on Love's Labour's Lost and gave it a 1960s spin, turning the princes seeking knowledge into Beatlesque rock stars seeking enlightment, and turning the Kingdom of Navarre into an Indian ashram. It worked amazingly well. This was a fun, bright, bold production, from the mod outfits to the Indian influenced set. When the princes delivered sonnets to their lady loves, they were in the form of rock songs and ballads instead of declaimed poetry, bringing the scene alive. The performances were terrific, especially Hank Stratton's Berowne and Amir Arison's King Ferdinand. For the women, Sabrina LeBeauf especially stood out among the Princess's ladies. She hasn't aged one day since The Cosby Show - and this was in the Swan Theatre, where we could see the actors up close. We loved this production for its energy and joie de vivre. (And for including the Frito-Lay bandito song, even if once more we found ourselves the only ones giggling at a US-centric joke. What can I saw, we're easy to please.)
The Taming of the Shrew at Open Air Theatre in Regent's Park
Sadly, magic didn't strike twice at the Open Air Theatre, despite this production having most of the same cast as A Midsummer's Night Dream. Perhaps if we had seen this production first, we would have liked it more - but the earlier play set very high expectations. Sirine Saba, who played such an elegant, imperious Titiana in Midsummer, was here merely grating and annoying. Yes, Katherina is a shrew, but we're still supposed to have empathy for her. Same for John Hodgkinson's Petruchio. He came off as a mean, cruel misogynist. One wished that the two would get lost and freeze to death on the way to Petruchio's home. The ending scene, where Kate docilely submits to Petruchio, felt creepy and disturbing, with zero sexual chemistry. And Sheridan Smith, so fabulous as Hermia, was a simpering and cloying Bianca. I can only blame the director, as the cast that gelled to perfection in Midsummer was sodden and unpalatable in this production. Not even the Pimm's cups could make me like like this version of Shrew.
Sunday in the Park with George, music & lyrics by Stephen Sondheim
Another musical using video projection onto blank walls in lieu of stage sets (see: Woman in White). But unlike the earlier production, in which the projection WAS the raison d'etre for the show (or at least it felt that way), here the projection is used to highlight, emphasize and make witty asides. It helped to create an incredibly satisfying whole, instead of overwhelming all else. Of course, I vastly prefer Sondheim to Lloyd Webber so I may be biased...
King John, performed in repertory by the Royal Shakespeare Company
One of the best aspects of the RSC's Complete Works Festival is seeing Shakespeare plays that are rarely mentioned, much less performed. One of Will's early efforts, King John examines the monarch mostly known for being a thumb-sucking cowardly lion in Disney's version of Robin Hood. Oh, and for signing the Magna Carta, of course.
In this production, Richard McCabe as the titular king did seem to have drawn some inspiration from Disney; his John was a fractious, spoiled tyrant, at once imperious yet fearful. But for all that, it was a performance that demands your attention. While John was never a figure of admiration, you understood his motivations and empathized when his machinations involving his usurped nephew Arthur go awry. Tamsin Greig, whom I've only seen play comedic roles on television, was an intense, forbidding Constance, mourning her son and vowing revenge with an intensity that left goosebumps. And Joseph Millson stole the stage whenever he was on it as the Bastard. An involving production, one that I enjoyed very much.
Much Ado About Nothing, performed in repertory by the Royal Shakespeare Company
The last Shakespeare production of the year for us, and what a high note to end on! This production sparkled from start to finish. Tamsin Greig and Joseph Millson played Beatrice and Benedick, set against the backdrop of 1950s Cuba. One could feel the steamy summer Havana night despite it being mid-December London outside. The soldiers were government men, fresh from a rebel skirmish. Beatrice wore sharp-shouldered jackets and tight pencil skirts to match her tone and mood; the virginal Hero wore full skirts and bows in her ponytail. The music was salsa, the lighting moody and suggestive - a complete feast for the senses.
Greig and Millson sparked and sparkled; their chemistry was palpable. (I'd love to see them perform Kate and Petruchio...) The eavesdropping scenes, in which Benedick hears of Beatrice's supposed love and vice versa, were models of physical comedy. Millson got to pretend he was a bush, while Greig had an inspired routine with a Vespa scooter. Yet the drama was also there in full force. When Beatrice begs Benedick to kill Claudio, it is a cry from a vengeful, grieving heart.
I could have done without the over-the-top-and-way-into-the-heavens camp Dogberry, but overall this production hit very few jarring notes. And the end, reminding us that while all may be merry right now but that this life would soon be ending when Castro takes power, was food for thought.
The 39 Steps, based on the 1935 Hitchcock film
This was non-stop fun from start to finish. Four actors play over 100 roles as they re-enact the Hitchcock film, inventively using props to suggest a moving train, a chase over the moors, an escape through a back window from a crofter's cottage, and other film-only scenarios (or so one would have thought...) The acting was terrific, the mood and tone light, and it even snows inside the theatre. (Warning: if you are in the first three rows, as we were, you'll need to wash your hair when you get home.) Highly recommended, and still on in London!
And that draws a curtain over 2006. In 2007 we have Spamalot to look forward to (we saw it in New York, but with obstructed view seats - I'm looking forward to having a full view of stage) as well as, you guessed it, more Shakespeare (F. Murray Abraham in The Merchant of Venice and Ian McKellen in King Lear among the tickets).
2006-12-28
Semi-Annual Theatre Review: Part Two
Starting where I left off, waaaaay back in August (one of my goals for 2007 is to update this blog more often. Note I said "goal," not "resolution" as I never manage to keep a resolution but I'm more successful at reaching goals...knock wood.)
The balance of the plays seen in 2006:
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf by Edward Albee, starring Kathleen Turner and Tom Irwin
A direct transfer from Broadway, with the cast intact, this production deservedly took the London theatre scene by storm and Kathleen Turner even won the Evening Standard Drama Awards for Best Actress. Since the Brits are rather snippy about the quality of American stage acting (although they do love the star power), this was more of a compliment than it may seem at first glance.
And Turner deserved the prize. She gave a gutsy, ballsy and affecting performance as Martha. But I think I admired Tom Irwin's portrayal of George even more. It's not an easy role, ol' George, and Irwin never took the easy road in his nuanced performance.
Great night out, even if you feel beat up at the end of it.
Embers, adapted by Christopher Hampton, starring Jeremy Irons
Judging by the critics' reviews, this was either a play you loved or you hated. We feel into the former camp - not all the way in, it's not the best thing we saw all year or anything like that - but the play stuck with me more than most we saw in 2006. Jeremy Irons, in what was basically a one-man show (although there were two other cast members), played a former Austro-Hungarian general who awaits the return of his once best friend on the eve of World War II. Based on the novel by Sandor Marai, the play elegantly touched on themes of loss and betrayal - of friendship, of love, of country, of personal identity. Irons was wonderful, as one would expect, but Patrick Malahide really impressed. The second act was pretty much a monologue delivered by Irons, meaning that Malahide had to sit, wordless, and listen. If acting is truly reacting, then Malahide stole the stage.
Julius Caesar, performed in repetory by the Royal Shakespeare Company.
This was the first of our many Stratford-Upon-Avon visits to see the RSC during their Complete Works Festival. Every play by William Shakespeare, performed over the course of a year, by theatre companies from all over the world (and quite a few performed by the RSC, of course). It was also our least favorite of the productions. John Light was just too, well, light as Brutus - in his toga, he looked like a young Harry Hamlin in Clash of the Titans, and his performance never lifted me past that observation. I liked his Caliban in The Tempest, but here he played Brutus straight and earnest, with little complexity. I did like the spare, minimal design of the play, all red leather, white togas and red blood.
Antony and Cleopatra, performed in repetory by the Royal Shakespeare Company.
Patrick Stewart and Harriet Walter played the titular roles, and a vastly entertaining evening was had by all. The play was performed in the Swan Theatre, which is a small, almost theatre in the round type space. The actors are so close you can see the sweat on the brow and the creases in the makeup. This makes for an intimate space for what is, at times, an epic play, but it allowed the production to emphasize the very personal and human aspects of the mythic Antony and Cleo. You believed these two were in lusty, crazy love and why it blinded them to the tragic ending to come.
Hayfever, written by Noel Coward, starring Dame Judi Dench
Noel Coward. Judi Dench. Playing a West End luvvy whose retirement to the country is an abysmal failure. Add two bored adult children looking for love and/or amusement, a scholarly husband who is studying the habits of the common flapper (that's Roaring Twenties flapper, not some obscure British fauna), and three bemused houseguests. Mix together and fun ensues. Or at least that's the plan. Until I went through my 2006 datebook, this didn't register on my memory. So while I don't remember this being painful, I also don't remember anything else about it. A souffle, then, easy digested, easily forgotten. Sorry, Dame Judi.
The Tempest, performed in repetory by the Royal Shakespeare Company
More Patrick Stewart, this time in the role of Prospero.
One of the first Shakespeare plays I saw on the legitimate stage was The Tempest at the Old Globe Theater in San Diego. The Old Globe production was old school Tempest: the island, a tropical paradise; Ariel, pretty and sparkling; Miranda, pretty but rather dim; Caliban, a monstrous beast. It was a Tempest that emphasized the fantasy and wonder of the story (although I remember feeling very sorry for Prospero at the end).
This version of the The Tempest took place on an island much closer to the Artic Circle than to the Equator. Prospero's magic felt like it came from a place older than the Norse Gods, while Miranda dressed like a Scandinavian native maiden. This was a harsh Tempest, the setting forbidding and dangerous, the danger much more forboding. Ariel looked more like Nosferatu than Tinkerbell, while Caliban kept his human form, using body language and grunts to suggest his otherworldly blood. Against this backdrop, the stakes for the characters were higher, the need for Prospero and his brother to reconcile of utmost importance. Mariah Gale's Miranda actually seemed intelligent for most of the play, and Patrick Stewart made Prospero at once fearsome yet sympathetic. While in the earlier production I felt sad for Prospero at losing his daughter and his island, a decision which felt forced on him, here I rejoiced with him as he makes the choice to return to his kingdom. Truly a wonderful - and despite the absence of the traditional fairydust, a wondrous - experience.
Avenue Q by Robert Lopez and Jeff Marx
We laughed until we cried. I don't think you be of a certain age and have grown up on American television and not love this musical. Well, okay, some might not like it but we rolled in the aisles. Sadly, I think some of the more obscure references went over the Brits' heads (like the "commitment" spoof on how The Electric Company taught kids how to sound out words) but the five of us that were US expats laughed loud enough for all. This musical seems to have confounded the UK critics - it wasn't reviewed well - but I heard it was recently given an extension because word of mouth among younger theatergoers is so strong. When song titles include "It Sucks to Be Me," "If You Were Gay," "The Internet is for Porn" and "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist" - sung by not!Muppets - how can it NOT have strong word of mouth?
Part Three to come soon!
The balance of the plays seen in 2006:
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf by Edward Albee, starring Kathleen Turner and Tom Irwin
A direct transfer from Broadway, with the cast intact, this production deservedly took the London theatre scene by storm and Kathleen Turner even won the Evening Standard Drama Awards for Best Actress. Since the Brits are rather snippy about the quality of American stage acting (although they do love the star power), this was more of a compliment than it may seem at first glance.
And Turner deserved the prize. She gave a gutsy, ballsy and affecting performance as Martha. But I think I admired Tom Irwin's portrayal of George even more. It's not an easy role, ol' George, and Irwin never took the easy road in his nuanced performance.
Great night out, even if you feel beat up at the end of it.
Embers, adapted by Christopher Hampton, starring Jeremy Irons
Judging by the critics' reviews, this was either a play you loved or you hated. We feel into the former camp - not all the way in, it's not the best thing we saw all year or anything like that - but the play stuck with me more than most we saw in 2006. Jeremy Irons, in what was basically a one-man show (although there were two other cast members), played a former Austro-Hungarian general who awaits the return of his once best friend on the eve of World War II. Based on the novel by Sandor Marai, the play elegantly touched on themes of loss and betrayal - of friendship, of love, of country, of personal identity. Irons was wonderful, as one would expect, but Patrick Malahide really impressed. The second act was pretty much a monologue delivered by Irons, meaning that Malahide had to sit, wordless, and listen. If acting is truly reacting, then Malahide stole the stage.
Julius Caesar, performed in repetory by the Royal Shakespeare Company.
This was the first of our many Stratford-Upon-Avon visits to see the RSC during their Complete Works Festival. Every play by William Shakespeare, performed over the course of a year, by theatre companies from all over the world (and quite a few performed by the RSC, of course). It was also our least favorite of the productions. John Light was just too, well, light as Brutus - in his toga, he looked like a young Harry Hamlin in Clash of the Titans, and his performance never lifted me past that observation. I liked his Caliban in The Tempest, but here he played Brutus straight and earnest, with little complexity. I did like the spare, minimal design of the play, all red leather, white togas and red blood.
Antony and Cleopatra, performed in repetory by the Royal Shakespeare Company.
Patrick Stewart and Harriet Walter played the titular roles, and a vastly entertaining evening was had by all. The play was performed in the Swan Theatre, which is a small, almost theatre in the round type space. The actors are so close you can see the sweat on the brow and the creases in the makeup. This makes for an intimate space for what is, at times, an epic play, but it allowed the production to emphasize the very personal and human aspects of the mythic Antony and Cleo. You believed these two were in lusty, crazy love and why it blinded them to the tragic ending to come.
Hayfever, written by Noel Coward, starring Dame Judi Dench
Noel Coward. Judi Dench. Playing a West End luvvy whose retirement to the country is an abysmal failure. Add two bored adult children looking for love and/or amusement, a scholarly husband who is studying the habits of the common flapper (that's Roaring Twenties flapper, not some obscure British fauna), and three bemused houseguests. Mix together and fun ensues. Or at least that's the plan. Until I went through my 2006 datebook, this didn't register on my memory. So while I don't remember this being painful, I also don't remember anything else about it. A souffle, then, easy digested, easily forgotten. Sorry, Dame Judi.
The Tempest, performed in repetory by the Royal Shakespeare Company
More Patrick Stewart, this time in the role of Prospero.
One of the first Shakespeare plays I saw on the legitimate stage was The Tempest at the Old Globe Theater in San Diego. The Old Globe production was old school Tempest: the island, a tropical paradise; Ariel, pretty and sparkling; Miranda, pretty but rather dim; Caliban, a monstrous beast. It was a Tempest that emphasized the fantasy and wonder of the story (although I remember feeling very sorry for Prospero at the end).
This version of the The Tempest took place on an island much closer to the Artic Circle than to the Equator. Prospero's magic felt like it came from a place older than the Norse Gods, while Miranda dressed like a Scandinavian native maiden. This was a harsh Tempest, the setting forbidding and dangerous, the danger much more forboding. Ariel looked more like Nosferatu than Tinkerbell, while Caliban kept his human form, using body language and grunts to suggest his otherworldly blood. Against this backdrop, the stakes for the characters were higher, the need for Prospero and his brother to reconcile of utmost importance. Mariah Gale's Miranda actually seemed intelligent for most of the play, and Patrick Stewart made Prospero at once fearsome yet sympathetic. While in the earlier production I felt sad for Prospero at losing his daughter and his island, a decision which felt forced on him, here I rejoiced with him as he makes the choice to return to his kingdom. Truly a wonderful - and despite the absence of the traditional fairydust, a wondrous - experience.
Avenue Q by Robert Lopez and Jeff Marx
We laughed until we cried. I don't think you be of a certain age and have grown up on American television and not love this musical. Well, okay, some might not like it but we rolled in the aisles. Sadly, I think some of the more obscure references went over the Brits' heads (like the "commitment" spoof on how The Electric Company taught kids how to sound out words) but the five of us that were US expats laughed loud enough for all. This musical seems to have confounded the UK critics - it wasn't reviewed well - but I heard it was recently given an extension because word of mouth among younger theatergoers is so strong. When song titles include "It Sucks to Be Me," "If You Were Gay," "The Internet is for Porn" and "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist" - sung by not!Muppets - how can it NOT have strong word of mouth?
Part Three to come soon!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
