Boyhood, Richard Linklater

Richard Linklater’s film Boyhood is compelling. Not only do the characters age before you, but its narrative drive nets more than one ‘hood.’ This is a film about mothers, fathers, sisters and grandparents. It’s not the first film to show the passage of time as we watch Mason Jr aged six mature into college student, but there are rich contexts both political and cultural. In his young leads, Ellar Coltraine and daughter Lorelei, Linklater makes a neat parallel to the child actors in the Harry Potter movies who go through a similar, maturation experience. Linklater documents the seminal moment when childhood crashes into adolescence, as Mason declares after the launch of The Deathly Hallows there is no elves’ magic. From the opening shot as young Mason looks up to the sky the film is shaped by his perception of what he sees; and he looks at life from different angles. This response is as much part of him as shaped by the fallout from his estranged parents’ experiences, played by Patricia Arquette, and Linklater stalwart, Ethan Hawke. This is the film’s masterstroke. Boyhood is a metaphor for life and the human instinct to always march doggedly forward.......

Shakespeare in Love, Noel Coward Theatre directed by Declan Donnellan

Shakespeare in Love adapted by Lee Hall and directed by Declan Donnellan from the film, featuring Gweneth Paltrow and Joseph Fiennes, has come home. Will needs inspiration. In walks Thomas Kent, aka Viola De Lesseps, who is moved by his plays and poetry; the scene is set. Romeo & Juliet, rough-hewn from Romeo & Ethelred the Pirate, takes shape as the two fall in love, defy convention, and with a little help from Kit Marlow and a motley crew of rufflers, produce the greatest love story ever told. Any production about theatre is a sure-fire hit, even if transported to 1593. Add in a wager, mix with real people Richard Burbage, Philip Henslowe, Kit Marlow, the goulish John Webster and Gloriana herself, pepper with lines from Shakespeare’s other plays and you have a hit on your hands. The creatives Declan Donnellan, designer Nick Omerod and composer Paddy Cuneen deliver up a real treat; while the acting ensemble led by Tom Bateman as Will and Lucy Briggs-Owen as Viola is first-rate. The gags are there, the tone finely balanced, with some truly stunning singing and musicianship.... 

Bakersfield Mist by Stephen Sachs, directed by Polly Teale, Kathleen Turner, Ian McDiarmid

Maude, a lived in/life lived, ex-bartender believes she has a genuine Jackson Pollock. Lionel, former director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, has been asked to verify the painting as real or a fake. Their backgrounds are diametrically opposite, but the situation plays out in Maude’s stuffed, trailer-park home and she calls the shots. There is some neat plotting and some implausibility in Stephen Sach’s play. There are a few good lines and a few over-written self-revelations. Yet Kathleen Turner is superb as Maude; while Ian McDiarmid is at his best in Lionel’s more phlegmatic moments. Direction is by Polly Teale, a departure from Shared Experience, in this entertaining two-hander about who and what is real......... 

Under Milk Wood, Dylan Thomas, Richmond Theatre directed by Terry Hands

Under Milk Wood, a play for voices, presents the lives of the inhabitants of Welsh village, Llareggub. Read this backwards and Dylan’s whimsical style is apparent. It also has bite; not dimmed since first produced in the 1950s. Polly Garter, Blind Captain Cat, Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard, Mr Pugh, the schoolmaster – the list goes on - characters born out of rhythm, musicality and sharp observation. Terry Hands’ production is a timely revival; his acting ensemble superb, led by Owen Teale. The set offers a birds’ eye view of ‘the town that was mad’, a perfect universe in which the sun and lighted windows frame the characters’ dreams, losses and infamous secrets over 24 hours........a treat  

Rock the Ballet Rasta Thomas' Bad Boys of Ballet

The King of Pop, Michael Jackson, is a pervasive influence in Rasta Thomas’ ‘Rock the Ballet’ in choreographic tropes or Thriller-styled suits and preppy polo shirts. Behind the ‘bad boys’ strap-line, the peacock is undeniable. Yet it’s tamed. 

The seven dancers are at the top of their game; their virtuosity and athleticism is breath-taking. Kicks, pirouettes, flips seem to come from nowhere. Ballet meets contemporary, meets hip-hop, meets street jive with a loose time-line of sorts from the 60s to the present day. The high-energy show shuffles through an ipod playlist from The Chemical Brothers to U2; Olafur Arnalds to Basement Jaxx, and with a pumping bass and MTV inspired projections, it’s like being trapped inside a lava-lamp. Colours of deep purple, lush green, sky blue, flaming red and tangy orange play amidst pixellated abstractions, sky-scrapers or waterfalls; the choreography hot-wired for excess.     

The company has fun and the audience have fun in a collective whoop-de-doo. ‘Rock the Ballet’ with its interchangeable format, accommodates different playlists for different towns; MSG. It is high-octane, high-calibre, but as long-lasting as a sugar rush...... 

Antony and Cleopatra, The Globe: Eve Best, Clive Wood, directed by Jonathan Munby

Rome, after Julius Ceasar, is ruled by a triumvirate: Lepidus, Octavius Caesar and Mark Antony; united by hatred for their common enemy Pompey. Antony, distracted by Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, is recalled to Rome as Pompey’s popularity increases, and his wife, Fulvia dies. Thus ensues scenes of hostilities and counter-hostilities in which Shakespeare plays out a real-politik for the beloved, but dead Queen Elizabeth, and the emergent Jacobean dynasty, led by James VI of Scotland. 

Cleopatra (Eve Best) is an idealised figurehead, standing for everything exotic and other. In director Jonathan Munby’s resourceful production she eats fruit and is dressed in loose-flowing white and gold. Best’s tan and hair, all sun-kissed highlights, suggest Essex Laddette, but in this outlandishness are the seeds of a very British kind of Zenophobia. Where Rome is civil, Egypt is not; where governance is sober and male; sensuality is female. 

There's a touch of the Swash-Buckler to Best's Cleopatra, which takes some getting used to; more Pirates-of-the-Carribean Elizabeth Swann than Kohl-lined Elizabeth Taylor. Best's triumph is in the second half, matched by a superior Clive Wood, where the tenor of the drama demands a coherent presentation. 'I dreamt of Antony' is delivered in a deliberate low-key.

The gallows humour at the drama's critical point is audacious. If the play’s message is about accommodating desire, like Euripides’ The Bacchae, then it sits uncomfortably with the deaths of Cleopatra’s retinue at the end. Yet it is erroneous to review exclusively with 21^st century eyes; best to ‘keep yourself within yourself.’ Maybe Antony and Cleopatra is just a play about an old queen and a new king.

Yet Shakespeare’s lines burgeon with passion and poetry: Enobarbus’ extended ship metaphor as he describes Cleopatra ’age cannot wither her’ or Cleopatra’s of Antony ‘his legs bestrid the ocean’ or the waspish description of Octavia as ‘dull-tongued and dwarfish.’ In these instances The Globe is the most perfect place to be; communally held moments for a playwright ‘unparalleled.’

Still Current, Russell Maliphant

Still Current, featuring a programme of work by Choreographer Russell Maliphant, is a collective interplay of movement, light and sound. It is quite simply spell-binding. The award-winning Afterlight (Part One) the solo Two, dazzle with the trickery of long exposure photography as limbs turn to quicksilver, inspired by the photographs of the dancer Nijinsky. Still Current draws on contemporary, ballet and martial arts, featuring lighting design by Michael Hulls, an eclectic sound-mix by long-time collaborators Andy Cowton and Mukul, with the plangent music of Eric Satie. Dancers Thomasin Gulgec, Dickson Mbi and Carys Staton join Maliphant, whose Shaman presence and fluid style, transcends and touches the stars. 

Lest We Forget, ENB, Barbican

Lest We Forget at the Barbican is an inspired thematic programme to mark the centenary of the WW1, but it’s also a good deal more than this. Through the architecture of Liam Scarlett’s No Man’s Land, with stunning design by Jon Bausor, the dramatic shifts in Russell Maliphant’s Second Breath to Akram Khan’s Dust with Sander Loonen's raised, red dust design, its cultural context is rich and varied. Khan’s signature choreography - his serpentine, linked arms, his communal, ritualistic uniformity - never looked so good; matched by the percussive, evocative rhythms of Jocelyn Pook’s original score. These choreographic motifs are explored independently by Scarlett and Malphant earlier, adding to the production's heightened expressionistic style. The final image of dancer, Tamara Rojo, as she spins out of a waltz step, alone, shows Dance as a simple metaphor for life, a glimpsed moment, grandly squandered or heroically given.......Lest We Forget catapults English National Ballet, under the inspired directorship of Rojo, onto an international platform........

Translations by Brian Friel

Still packs a punch.......Friel's exquisite theatrical exploration of the interstices between language, identity and history, nearly thirty-five years on, is a model of craft and ingenuity. Hugh O'Donnell, school-master of the hedge school, Baile Beg, Northern Ireland enters drunk after the birth of Nellie Rua's baby at the play's beginning and is drunk from the baby's wake at the end. Between times his family become divided as local lass, Maire, falls in love with Yolland (James Northcote) a sapper employed, along with O'Donnell's son Owen, to anglicise place names to produce Ireland's first Ordinance Survey. Later Yolland  goes missing. James Grieve's direction is sharply intuitive, Lucy Osborne's design the perfect frame, while the acting is superlative, headed by Niall Buggy as the irrepressible Hugh.....  

Tracks directed by John Curran, Mia Wasikowska, Adam Driver

Adapted from Robyn Davidson's memoirs, Tracks, is the story of one women's trek across a forbidding Australian backdrop from Alice Springs to the Indian Ocean. In tow, and the crux for Davidson, are four camels and her faithful dog. Stubbornly simplistic in her outlook, Robyn (Mia Wasikowska) shies away from photographer Rick Smolan (Adam Driver) who records her journey for National Geographic, and in moments of anger the increased interest of well-wishers who want to take her picture. Through sacred aboriginal terrain she is accompanied by an elder, Mr Eddie - women are not permitted to roam free or kill wildlife - where each earns the respect of the other. The pace is expertly handled by director John Curran, while Marion Nelson's unobtrusive script gives Davidson's account central focus. This is an absorbing and moving film, in the slow revelation of Davidson's background, her complex relationship with Smolan and in the progress towards her goal. 

Calvary directed by John McDonagh, Brendan Gleeson, Aiden Gillen, Chris O'Dowd

Father James (Brendan Gleeson) learns he will be killed in a week's time. This is Sligo, Ireland. Revelations about abusive priests rock the catholic church, and the killer, abused as a boy, sees purchase in killing a good priest. Father James fits the bill. This is McDonagh's second film. His eclectic style evokes Enda Walsh, David Lynch and Ballykissangel, the dark side. At base level Calvary is a 'who's-going-to-do-it.' The townsfolk, from the ghoulish doctor (Aiden Gillen) to the fallen Magdalen (Orla O'Rouke) simmer with rage against the church and its representative, as the countdown begins. At the same time, Calvary is atonement. The action inexorably moves towards its uncompromising end, yet the journey is both humorous and unsettling.The scenery, breathtaking in its savage beauty, matches the film's mercurial tone: all glowering skies, cross-currents, while the dominant Knochnarea Mountain, in sweeping aerial shots, looks like a sacrificial altar. This is intelligent, angry stuff.

The School for Scheming, Dion Boucicault, The Orange Tree

Orange Tree Theatre co-founder Auriol Smith directs Dion Boucicault's 1847 play, The School for Scheming. Penniless aristocrat, Claude Plantagenet (Paul Shelley), hopes his daughter Helen (Imogen Sage), learns at Mrs French's finishing school, how to land a catch which might save him. Mrs French (Sabina Franklyn) squares up to Plantagenet himself. Helen and her companions, Rose and Matilda, follow a bevy of suitors: Lord Fipley (Oliver Gomm), the would-be capitalist Perkins, aka MacDunnum (Dominic Hecht), and young blood Craven (Chris Bone). Dion Boucicault bridges the comedies between Sheridan and Wilde. He offers a delicious range of carefully balanced foils amidst the grubiness of capitalism, principle and social niceties. His dialogue is as brilliantine as when first penned, while his critique of social mores is sharply delineated. The Orange Tree's in-the-round setting fits the fast pace and presentational style of the play's numerous asides perfectly. For Smith and partner Sam Walters, who co-founded the Orange Tree in 1971, The School for Scheming is the final curtain call. What a jolly romp to go out on, and typically after 33 years, to the therapeutic sound of laughter. 

The Lunchbox

Director Ritesh Batra takes us into the world of the Mumbai 'dabbawallas.'  They have their songs, rhythms, emphasised by the jolting of over-crowded trains or a rain-soaked bicycle ride as they collect nearly half a million packed hot lunches from workers' homes and deliver them to their desks in time for lunch. The fast-paced city life is in contrast to the quirky staidness of widower and accountant  (Irrfan Khan) who receives the wrong lunchbox from neglected wife (Nimrat Kaur), trying her best to spice up her life. This is a film in which the senses record life's longings and despair: from the ritual stability of the multi-stacked, silver, tiffin lunchboxes to the lonely realisation that the lingering smell on a husband's shirt signals an affair. The performances are beautifully observed from Khan and Kaur as they tentatively reach out to one another, and shot against cramped interiors or the fierce, hugger-mugger energy which spills out from city life, the story-telling is sublime.

The Silver Tassie, Sean O'Casey: The National Theatre

Harry Heegan (Ronan Raftery) football hero, drinks from the Silver Tassie, on the day he returns to the front. With him goes Teddy Foran (Aidan Kelly). In O'Casey's extraordinary, expressionistic second act, an exploding shell paralyses Harry from the waist down, while Teddy loses his sight. Howard Davies' striking production at The National, sees the two end up in Act 4 at an Armistice Day Celebration dance, Dublin. In pieta-style, each intones O'Casey's savage prose-poetry, against the background of dancing figures and up-beat music; ultimately the blind man leads away the cripple. The Silver Tassie is more than the sum of its parts: with a nod to vaudeville, farce it heralds Beckett's clowns and Joan Littlewood's Theatre Workshop's 'Oh What A Lovely War!' in satire and presentation. Ghosts from O'Casey's highly successful Dublin Trilogy, set against Ireland's civil war, also linger. The Silver Tassie pre-figures these events; yet the question of nationalism, and its practical reality, lies at the heart of his writing.  

Morning by Simon Stephens, Lyric Hammersmith, dir Sean Holmes

B….. Work-shopped by the Lyric Young Peoples’ Company, Morning recalls Eclipse and DNA, written by Simon Armitage and Dennis Kelly. All three deal with adolescence on the dark side. In Morning soul-mates separate as one is about to go to university, while the other vows to make them stay with horrific consequences. The dangerous atmosphere is unrelenting, picked out by harsh lighting; isolated ‘bits of set’ such as fridge, a fish tank, in which paper-boats float and burn; and in a nod to Filter Company, an on-stage SX technician, who makes dissonant sound. The actors do seem to play younger than their scripted personas (Stephanie and Cat are seventeen); a little too gauche and knock-kneed. And for the most part play ‘face-on.’ This raw, authentic stance suits the story and production style. Yet the 'Youth Experience’ is not all about attitude….There is also a terrifying poetry, which Armitage offers; and taut action explored by Dennis Kelly. Morning, in comparison, still feels in places like a script in development…… 

Theatre: The Last of the Hausmanns

The Last of the Hausmanns by Stephen Beresford, Julie Walters, Rory Kinnear, Helen McCrory

Atomic. A deceptively comic play about disintegration. The Hausmanns' dynasty and family-stock are re-aligned. Judy Hausmann is the last of the bohemians – free-thinking, free-loving and free-boozing – she accepts her fate; think Chekov’s Raneveskaya. Judy’s neurotic daughter, Libby, tries to keep things together, while her son, Nicky, unfulfilled in life and love escapes as crises surface. Surrounded by sundry characters - Summer, Libby’s abrasive yet drive-in-the-wedge daughter, Peter ‘the good doctor’ who buys into Judy’s free-wheeling spirit, and speedo-clad Daniel, who has free access to the family’s outdoor swimming pool – the seasonal summer swelters. Judy Hausmann is a natural vehicle for Julie Walters - snappy one-liners, good character and observational detail - but it would be wrong to dismiss it as derivative. Walters is feisty and her timing perfect. Helen McCrory and Rory Kinnear as the siblings, crackle. While the other characters puncture this Devon idyll, with its ingenious clutter, colour and hippy sound track, in a random bid towards progress. If there is a message then it's 'be yourself.'….The Cherry Orchard it isn’t, but this is an impressive debut by Beresford. 

Theatre: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, National Theatre, dir Marianne Elliott, Adapted by Simon Stephens, Bunny Christie, Luke Treadaway, Niamh Cusack, Paul Ritter, Nicola Walker, Una Stubbs

Awesome. Mrs Sear’s dog, Wellington, is killed by a garden fork in front of her house. Christopher obsessed with numbers, astronomy and the colour yellow decides to investigate. He unravels more than he can handle, discovers he doesn't like Batternberg Cake, while his journey takes him to London. He takes the train, negotiates the underground and ends up in Chapel Gardens, NW. Hugely impressive, Marianne Elliott's production stays faithful to Christopher’s perspective throughout: with ingenious design, choreography and lighting; and moments of real sensitivity. Playwright, Simon Stephens uses a clever narrative device: Siobhan, Christopher's teacher narrates his story and later turns it into a play. This allows for doublings, re-casting – watch the policemen - and detachment. Christopher’s attention to detail, his repetitions, patternings are all re-enacted by a committed, well-drilled, ensemble cast playing an assortment of characters. Lovely to see Una Stubbs.......While Mark Haddon’s iconic script is brought vividly to life making it a talking point all over again. Luke Treadaway as Christopher, is extraordinary, while Paul Ritter and Nicola Walker excel as his parents. And the dog? Well the dog…….a clever reality check, but you’ll have to go and discover that for yourself…… 

Theatre: London Road

London Road, National Theatre, Alecky Blythe, dir Rufus Norris, music Adam Cork, design Katrina Lindsay

New-mint. London Road is different. A musical in a spoken verbatim style, similar to recitative, which Alecky Blythe carefully crafts to commercial success. Real lives/voices are recorded with every hmm….pause, repetition and non sequitor; ‘Begonias, Petunias, Impatiens and things’……The music, by Adam Cork, feels forensic: reminiscent of Sondheim’s Sunday in the Park with George. Yet its dissonance and counterpoint perfectly suit the unconventional, production style. It's a year in the life of the London Road residents, Suffolk, as they reclaim their neighbourhood, enter Ipswich in Bloom and organise themselves into a successful neighbourhood association after the arrest of Stephen Wright, serial killer of 5 sex workers, who lives next door at No 79. There are no big numbers, no stars, yet London Road is compelling throughout. It shows sugar and starch, old and young, selfishness and atruism. Direction and pace are tight and the ensemble acting uniformly good, with ingenious, versatile design by Katrina Lindsay……Blooming marvellous - see it before it fades!......

The Dark Knight Rises

The Dark Knight Rises, dir Christopher Nolan, Christian Bale, Anne Hathaway, Michael Caine, Tom Hardy

Epic. It’s big and bold, with back-stories and narrative twists to keep you on the edge of your seat. Batman/Bruce Wayne are in reclusive mode, each battles with demons, made manifest through a physical debility – we first see Bruce Wayne with a stick – later he is straightened out as a stray vertebrae is clicked back into place. There is a countdown of sorts, as once on board, they work against a ticking bomb, which will blow not only Gotham City out of the water but the world as well. It is an apocalyptic vision in which Christopher Nolan produces all the metallic, heavy hardware he and the CGI and props guys can muster; and to great effect. With costume by Lindy Hemming, who worked on five Bond movies, there is a sense that the film is not just the conclusion to the trilogy but a homage to all screen heroes who live to rid the world of evil; there’s even a nod to Angels With Dirty Faces. Estranged from Alfred, Commissioner Gordon and Fox Wayne’s world is a lonely one. The spin here is that Wayne as much as Batman is on trial. Anne Hathaway is superb as Cat Women with a wonderful line in put-downs, leather outfits and killer stilettoes. And this under-cut, tongue-in-cheek saves the film from being too reverent with itself. While Tom Hardy as the evil Bane, who plots to subvert Gotham underground, is all beef, sinister mask, brute force with brute mentality….. Everyone is at the top of their game….. 

Dark Shadows, dir Tim Burton, Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Michelle Pfeiffer, Chloe Moretz

Blood-curdling!.....Take it on the rise: vampires, curses, the Adams family, hallucinogenic 70s, with sharp, cliff-face promontories….The film doesn’t take itself seriously and invites you not to do the same…..Homage to the B movie horrors with buckets, buckets and buckets of blood, reluctant vampire Barnabas Collins is released after two centuries from a chained coffin. He meets his descendants in the run-down family pile  and sets about restoring the family business – canned fish – to its former glory…..Running through his veins is the curse of the she-devil…...Everybody camps up in this movie. It is shot and conceived in excess, so you either go with it or you don’t….Wicked performances by Burton veterans Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, while popular newcomer, Chloe Moretz, is a convincing teenage uber-slayer, transformed into a werewolf……Dark Shadows is a diversion, with cameo moments by Alice Cooper, lava lamps, which underscore Burton’s affectionate, nostalgic  retro-70s, neon look……

Review: Film

Albert Nobbs dir Rodrigo Garcia, Glenn Close, Janet McTeer, Brendan Gleeson, Pauline Collins

Slow-burn……In years to come, Albert Nobbs will be judged a little masterpiece. Now it is too close (no pun intended). Close’s beloved project, fifteen years in the making, has given us a great cinema moment: two women, dressed as women who’ve spent their lives living as men, walking free for the first time along the strand, yet with all the awkwardness of the unfamiliar as they trip and clod-heel in dresses…..Marvellous……Allbert Nobbs has worked his way as a waiter in a shabby-genteel Dublin hotel, Morrisons, in the late 19th century. He carries with him a picture of his mother, an account book, and hides under the floorboards his accumulating savings; yet he is really a she. When Mr Herbert Page, painter and decorator, comes to work at the hotel and is billeted with Nobbs, Page is revealed as a woman also. Yet a typhoid epidemic strikes the city and threatens to unravel both their lives….There are touching and poignant scenes between the two, and devoid of any sexual overtones these are all the more moving for the characters’ individual, yet shared experience….The film, taken from George Moore’s novella, shows an intriguing array of Dublin-rich characters both upstairs and downstairs – the wastrel doctor, Brendan Gleeson, and the lady concierge, Pauline Collins - a precursor to James Joyce. Yet it is the two central performances by Close and McTeer which are memorable…..….. 

Review: Film

Salmon Fishing in Yemen dir Lasse Hallstrom, Sceenplay Simon Beaufoy with Ewan McGregor, Emily Blunt, Amr Waked and Kristin Scott Thomas

Fun. A fisheries' expert is brought in to realise a Sheik’s vision to bring fly-fishing to the Yemini dessert. Plenty of fun, fish and faith…described as a Bill Nighy comedy without BN – filming commitments in India - its whimsy is beguiling. Good pace…Stunning Scottish backdrops contrast to the exotic Middle East. Characters lose everything and gain much as they dare to swim against the tide…..Performances are finely balanced, though Kirstin Scott Thomas steals it in presence and hutzpah, as press secretary to No 10 in search of a good British/Arab news story. Yet Ewan McGregor and Emily Blunt work comfortably within the film's style, while Amr Waked brings a finely tuned dignity and wisdom.....  A restorative experience, more than a diversion, despite the mawkish love plots with direction and edits reminiscent of Blake Edwards’ Pink Panther series - with split screens, the interplay between emails/widgets and the throwaway line……..Stylish

Review: Theatre

Spamalot, Bonnie Langford, Todd Carty, Steven Pacey, Eric Idle, dir Christopher Luscombe, Richmond Theatre

Spam, spam, spam, spam….Yet the real deal…The Python's music and best-loved sketches are there: the black death, the Knights of Ni, brave Sir Robin, Sir Belvedere as Arthur and the boys go in search of the holy grail, led by the Lady-Diva of the lake. Bonnie Langford as the watery goil is fabulous. She is the all-singing, all-dancing original and has ‘special’ written through her like Brighton Rock…….The production is silly, fun and very, very British with a penchant for dressing up. Even God as Eric Idle makes an appearance via a touch screen! Such is the Python's following……….There are ridiculous songs - the fish-slapping, Finnish song; and outrageous, glorious dance numbers, with singing nuns and bible-head-hitting monks. The whole thing is a hoot. And its audience: a respectable mix of old, new and very new…..Spamalot goes as billed: ‘lovingly ripped off’….from the grail, Brian but you might want to add panto, end-of-pier and sea-side postcards as well...So for those looking for a bit of nostalgia or cult enjoyment, it works. It's a balance that Chrisopher Luscombe understands.…..There’s even a nod to Morecombe and Wise….oh, and that song: something about bright, look, right, side, life.... 

Review: Film

The Best, Exotic Marigold Hotel, Ol Parker screenplay from Deborah Moggach’s novel dir John Madden, Judi Dench, Bill Nighy, Tom Wilkinson, Celia Imrie, Maggie Smith, Penelope Wilton, Ronald Pickup, Dev Patel

Pension-planner. Everyone is at the top of their game. Whilst the evocation of the colour, smells and vibrancy of India will do more than any tourist industry brochure could. Seven people have to adjust: to life, to death, to ruin, to loneliness and new possibilities. Some make the leap of faith to discover a new vigour and determination, while others turn their backs and run into a cultural cul-de-sac. The best exotic marigold hotel is itself the most colourful metaphor with its age-old splendour, now pealing and faded, yet waiting for the right combination of dreams and determination to kick start it into a better future. The ensemble cast are superb: one-liners and pay off lines abound, with some wonderful anticing, particularly Ronald Pickup, as a serial roue; exquisite sensitivity between Bill Nighy and Judi Dench – the sight of him in a near ‘high-five’ and the pair bombing around on a motorbike is worth the price of a ticket alone - and contrasting mis-fits, Maggie Smith and Penelope Wilton, who never compromise truth with popularity…Old age in its golden sunset, as expressed here, is an opportunity for renewal…… 

Review: Theatre

The Recruiting Officer by George Farquahar, dir Josie Rourke, Rachel Stirling, Mark Gatiss, Nicolas Burns, Tobias Menzies, Donmar Warehouse

Delightful. Like slipping into a warm bath: everything is pitch perfect. Novel, yet poignant take on Over the Hills and Faraway - manipulated by John Gay in The Beggar’s Opera, which is the same vintage. Britches part; mistaken intentions; thwarted love and intentions as Kite, the recruiting sergeant on behalf of Captain Plume dragoons, cajoles and hood-winks innocents for the army. The womanising Captain Plume is in love with Silvia yet considers her above him. Melinda her cousin, ‘has airs,’ and is in love with Mr Worthy, Plume’s friend. Enter the post-restoration fop, Captain Brazen, who is connected and known to everyone, according to him - even the Conundrums of Shropshire – who seeks Melinda’s hand and you have a heady brew of fun, romp, wit and music that fizzles with energy……Yet Josie Rourke’s poignant twist as the soldiers do indeed go over the hills and far away, that as an after-image, remains long after the play has finished…..And for anyone familiar with Our Country’s Good by Timberlake Wertenbaker, The Recruiting Officer offers a poignant reminder of those real castaways in 1789, who staged this play on the shoreline of what is now Sydney….A case of art mirroring life, mirroring art, mirroring life made all the richer for it….. 

Review: Theatre

Our Country’s Good by Timberlake Wertenbaker, dir Alastair Whatley, Emilly Bowker, Emma Gregory, Aiden Gillett, Chris Harper, The Rose Theatre, Kingston

Heavy-going. The play still sparkles and is as fresh now as it was when written in the 1980s. Yet this production is laboured and there are beats and nuances missing as it drives to its conclusion, particularly in the handling of the erratic Harry Brewer and his jealous preoccupation with his ‘she-lag’ Duckling Smith. Part of the problem is the entrances and exits and the width of The Rose stage; the episodic scenes need more defined, intimately-marked space to show the hugger-mugger existence of the convicts and officers; in this new outpost all are prisoners. Yet the central scene amongst the officers discussing the merits of theatre is still strong, as is the derisory note of a Sydney opera house; this is still deliciously sweet. Our Country’s Good uses a play within a play device, made all the more poignant as the events and most of the characters are historically accurate. The first convicts to arrive in Australia celebrate the King’s Birthday - George III, in 1789 - by putting on a play, The Recruiting Officer by George Farquahar. The play shows, particularly in the development of the character of Liz Morden - due to be hanged - just how important respect, freely given, is to the most low in spirits and circumstance, and how this can restore dignity and hope…… 

Review: Dance

Balletboyz The Talent, William Trevitt, Michael Nunn, A New Generation

Fabulous. 3 pieces promoting high octane, high testosterone levels of animal physicality with nine guys at the top of their game….The baton has passed to a new generation: a clever ploy on behalf of original ballet boys, William Trevitt and Michael Nunn, as the company, now ten years old, repackages itself for a new audience. First up Torsion, the twisting of an object due to an applied torque, with choreography by Russell Maliphant, is striking, fast, classy and with movement that just erupts from the minimal square of light, from which set pieces build into explosions of strength, stamina and athleticism. The romantic Alpha, with choreography by Paul Roberts and music by Keaton Henson, is a fest of colour and movement as costumes, suggestive of the eighteenth century, depict sailors marooned or shipwrecked on dry, bleached sandy beaches. There is an elegance to this piece, in contrast to the visceral quality of the first, as dancers are lifted, in counterpoint, high into the air. Finally Void: edgy, fast, with a black and white film backdrop as a group of disenfranchised hoodies circle and strut in a collision of movement and balance, which is breath-taking. With fresh choreography by Jarek Cemerek, film by Andrew Ellis and music score by Ondrej Dedecek, Yoav and Ismael de Garay this is a stunning closure to the evening…..Balletboyz are on tour now; catch them as they come round….if you can.....  

Review: Film

The Iron Lady by Abi Morgan, dir Phyllida Lloyd, Meryl Streep, Olivia Colman, Jim Broadbent

Imbalanced. A staggering, meticulous performance by Meryl Streep as the iron lady, ex-British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. If the film had remained as an account of grief and dementia, which is its humanity, it perhaps would have earned more plaudits. As it is those at Westminster seem to have distanced themselves from it, and indeed part of an awkwardness is the juxtaposition of real footage, such as the 1980s’ miners’ strike and the sinking of The Belgrano, with its fictionalised, familial account. The difficulty is that we don’t know how to ‘read’ these as they are remembered by the ‘present’ Margaret. They come to us in an unexpurgated form, so that the mis-match of film format, after a while, becomes irritating. This is a shame for its human story is touching. Ably supporting Streep are Olivia Colman as Carol Thatcher and Jim Broadbent as Dennis; and Abi Morgan – who seems to have written everything at the moment – once again demonstrates, as she does in Lovesong, that she writes with real heart. The Iron Lady, complete with the off-stage, spectral presence of Mark Thatcher - always the favoured off-spring - as Carol does her best to keep ‘mummy’ going; and the inter-cut, imagined scenes involving Dennis, elevate the film from a kind of ordinariness……

Review: Film

Shame written by Abi Morgan and Steve McQueen, dir Steve McQueen, Michael Fassbender, Carey Mulligan

Brave. A few dead-end alleys in an otherwise compulsive movie: it’s shot beautifully, and erotically, around Manhattan, in subways, in anonymous grey offices, apartment buildings, sleazy bars and meat joints. The common currency is sex: Brandon, a successful middle executive, is an addict. No reasons are made clear for this. Though when Sissy, his drifter-sister, comes back into his life, there is sense of shared history, of which neither speaks. Sissy brings colour and a little bit of the exotic in the beginning, but her fragility is all too apparent when she hits on Brandon’s boss; and her heart-wrung singing of New York, New York shows her already half-submerged. There are two fine performances from Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan, in an endless, though compelling round, of seedy assignations and joyless sex, where the New York backdrop is grey and unforgiving. Whether British artist, Steve McQueen, is making some subtle call here, is difficult to tell, as his standpoint at best, is ambiguous…….Hard viewing, but the film is shot with a sincerity as we see Brandon spiral from porn sites, lack-lustre dinner dates, call-girls, orgies to a battle-scarred, mess of self-loathing….He still rides the subway, but whether he is tempted or cured as he catches the eye of an attractive girl in the final sequence, we never know……..   

Review: Theatre

Lovesong by Abi Morgan, Lyric, Hammersmith, dir Steven Hoggart, Scott Graham, design Merle Hensal, video design William Galloway, Adam Young, lighting Andy Purves, Edward Bennett, Leanne Rowe, Sian Phillips, Sam Cox

Spell-binding. A couple, in their early and late years, interleave experiences, in just 90 minutes. It is the story of their beginning and their end......Margaret and William, Billy and Maggie, live as a believable, seamless couple in a beautifully choreographed and finely judged production by Frantic Assembly. The use of projections, architecture, music and movement show the most simplest of stories: a lovesong. Yet it is epic in design. William at one point asks what if our lives are a series of film strips which we inhabit; in which time is not linear?....The company have captured this concept in a threnody that has left audiences standing. Abi Morgan’s script is a clever contrivance: juxtaposed ideas, themes, objects drop into the action only to recur later with an added poignancy, such as the peaches, the hammock and the boy Adam. We are being unashamedly manipulated yet the subject matter is so contemporary and the performances, so much in tune with each other, that we go along with everything. Even the flocks of starlings as they go about their business, mimicking all they hear in their upward sweep, play a fine, thematic role....And a production that can make sense of ipods,cave paintings and dentistry in the same orbit shows a deft touch.....………Exquisite 

Review: Theatre

Comedy of Errors, NT, dir Dominic Cooke, Lenny Henry, Claudie Blakely, Daniel Msamati

Muted-Tint. Classic tale of twins separated in infancy by a shipwreck……mistaken identity as Antipholus of Syracuse arrives in Ephesus to search for his lost brother…….confusion as the action of both brothers and their identical twin servants, ‘the Dromios’, spirals ever faster into chaos and absurdity. Yet the setting and other theatrical signifiers are confusing: we are in a run-down city with tenements, smart apartments and seedy red-light district. The period is difficult to read. The range of accents suggests Africa, Latin-American…..Essex. While a live band sing British pop songs in Romanian. The costumes include football shirts, 60s’ chic, hip-hop, contemporary tart, anonymous brown suits with light travelling clothes…….The appeal overall is contemporary, modern, but the disparity between these elements is too wide for it to truly cohere…..Yet Lenny Henry does a fine job as Antipholus, bringing off comic routines and moments of real pathos; similarly, Claudie Blakely - so secure in comedy – is equally dexterous when she realises she has bedded the wrong guy; and Daniel Msamati, a united Emirates Dromio, with his near-monologue on the uncertain virtues of a close admirer is great fun……..These are joyous moments but the overall dilapidation of the city with its greys and dark tones, has the effect of laughter short-lived………… 

Review: Theatre

Noises Off, Michael Frayn, dir Lindsay Posner, Celia Imrie, Janie Dee, Johnathan Coy, Amy Nuttall, Jamie Glover, Robert Glenister, Paul Ready, Aisling Loftus, Karl Johnson, des Paul McKintosh

Priceless. Just when you think comedy couldn’t be bettered after ‘One Man Two Guvnors’ along comes ‘Noises Off’ at the Old Vic. A masterly script, played at a breakneck pace, which is truly awesome, using a play-within-a-play format where genre and structure is expertly manipulated throughout. Set over three acts, ‘Noises Off’, features Act One of the sex comedy ‘Nothing On’….produced by a second rate touring theatrical company with its stock of theatricals: young juveniles, old hacks, persistent worriers and drunks. Over time, the production disintegrates, as do the relationships between the characters, as actors play characters, who play actors and characters, who play….you get the picture…. ‘Nothing On’ - replete with sardines, banging doors and country-house setting - is ripe for exploitation, reminiscent of the slap n’ tickle, seedy comedies, at the butt-end of pier. Yet Act Two, where the action switches to backstage, objectifies the highlights of Act One while the ensuring chaos of the characters’ feelings towards each other are made more ludicrous because of the backstage etiquette for silence....Celia Imrie more than matches her two predecessors, Patricia Routledge and Patricia Hodge, Robert Glenister is in perfect pitch as the frazzled director, Lloyd Dallas. Yet overall, ‘Noises Off’ is an ensemble triumph: a seasonal treat, expertly told, expertly executed…… 

Review: Theatre

One Man Two Guvnors, Adelphi, dir Nicholas Hytner, James Corden, Jemima Rooper, Oliver Chris

Hoot. Everything you could wish for and more:  great comedic ensemble playing, stolen identities, ensuing chaos, 60s’ concept, Brighton setting and scene covering with live skiffle-band,The Curve, which has the audience standing on its feet by the end…...Francis Henshall, fired from his skiffle band, needs to keep his two new guvnors – one a gangland, androgynous twin the other a snooty toff - happy but separate. Unbeknownst to him each, in a natural twist of fate, is in love with the other. Throw in a scene-stealing, masterly waiter, Tom Eddon - think victoria Woods’ ‘two soups’ - a criminal underworld backdrop and you have a glorious romp as top-of-the-form James Corden, as the ever-hungry Francis, guides us through the byways of Richard Bean’s sparkling new adaptation of Goldoni’s 1794 comic Italian classic, A Servant and Two Masters, turning it into a very British farce par excellence….

Review: Dance

The Sleeping Beauty, Royal Ballet, Petipa, Monica Mason/Christopher Newton, Lauren Cuthbertson, Sergei Polunin

Sumptuous. This glorious ballet, with stunning choreography and soaring Tchaikovsky score, was in 1890, a theatrical event which showed off the grand, Russian, Imperial style. It is also the Royal Ballet’s signature piece. It has land-marked its history from its inauguration at Covent Garden after the war through to its closure for refurbishment, when Darcey Bussell as the lilac fairy put the house to sleep for two years. And in the right season, Christmas, where the spirit of renewal and thanksgiving is uppermost, it is a magical, festive treat. The overall look for this current 'Beauty' is striking, in its recreation of Oliver Messel’s 1946 designs. Back then the paucity of material necessitated the mother of invention, so that the gentlemen’s cuffs were made out of paper doilies. Now its opulence, vibrant colour and grand style throws into relief the grey world of tightened belts and cut corners, and we are the better for it. Under the direction of Monica Mason and Christopher Newton this production is a homage to its 1946 lineage. Lauren Cuthbertson as Princess Aurora has a great technique with long, languorous limbs. She is also a good actress. She excelled in the Grand Pas of Act 111 with Sergei Polunin, and there is a real sense of connection and musicality between them. Polunin, touted as the next Nureyev, is stunning to watch: huge jumps, whose crisp, clean turns are thrilling. The confection of the story is lightly spun, so story book characters such as puss in boots, red riding hood, bluebeard line up as wedding guests alongside the seasons and other royal dignitaries, as we see a handsome prince kiss and reawaken a cursed princess. Yet its reality lies in a noble sentiment in which goodness rather than triumphs, endures.....We are in an allegorical world........a world, like the angels, which dances on a pin…….. 

Review: Film

My week with Marilyn, Colin Clark, dir Simon Curtis, Michelle Williams, Eddie Redmayne, Judi Dench, Kenneth Branagh

British. The film is taken from the diaries of Colin Clark in a week in 1956 where he meets, and falls in love with, Marilyn Munroe while she films The Prince and the Show Girl opposite Lawrence Olivier. Clark is at the outset of his film career, he later went on to make documentaries, with Lawrence Olivier Productions and as third assistant director is keen to learn everything he can. Yet the focus is never on him ....Instead the film offers a glorious opportunity for Judi Dench to give her Dame Sybil Thorndike and for Kenneth Branagh to give his Olivier….both excel. For a one note song the film is diverting, amusing. Yet the real interest lies in how Marliyn’s other close associates act towards Colin as his Marilyn stock increases. Yet the film gives little thought to this, beyond a few peeved expressions, so it remains a fluffy light-weight. As Colin is infatuated with Marillyn before The Prince and the Show Girl, once she gives him the glad-eye, that’s it…….Yet the period detail is finely recreated, and for the most part has some fun, interesting performances. And for all its soft focus, shampoo-advert moments - skinny-dipping in the Thames, mid-afternoon, after being halloooed by some hot-under-the-collar Etonians, I dont' think so - My Week With Marilyn is worth the price of the popcorn……