London Dramatic Arts was originally supposed to go to Dr. Faustus on the 16th April - the trip had to be rescheduled, and I'm very glad it was, because it gave me a chance to go with the Man with the Hat, who was taking his groups to The Passion of Lady Vendredi the same night. Not only that, but we got a discount on the tickets for the rescheduled date, which more than paid for the extra show.
So, this evening, off I schlepped to the Duke of York's Theatre, rather glad to be going with a group again - first time since Thursday. Google Maps wanted me to take a train to Waterloo, then the Tube; I figured I could walk from Waterloo, and that's what I did. The weather wasn't great - grey skies, blustery wind, and light rain; but it wasn't too bad: and I was early, so had time to kill. We were to meet at Brown's beforehand - just up the road from the theatre, and a lovely refuge from the weather, all dark wood and brass.
The organiser wasn't there yet, of course - but I was early. They hadn't any record of her booking, either. Didn't see anyone else I knew, and my phone chose that precise moment to die - so I took a seat at the bar and waited, in view of the door. Time ticked by. I waited. Time ticked by. I waited. Time to meet arrived. No sign. Five minutes passed. No sign. Well, she's always late.. I trotted into the brasserie to see whether I could see anyone I knew. Nope. Ordered a drink - perfect timing, when I turned around there she was, looking frazzled. Twenty minutes late - about standard for her. Really, if she can't even be on time on a bank holiday.. (and no, she hadn't messaged me to let me know, as I discovered when I got my phone to charge).
We took a booth further in, and gathered together all the menus - I was starving, so was she. The others who'd arrived so far (they'd been there while I was waiting, but I hadn't known them) weren't so hungry, and stuck to drinks. There was a bar snacks menu, an a la carte, a specials menu. I chose the chicken, and went to the bar to order - there is a separate brasserie, but you can eat in the bar too. The guy taking my order was unsure which chicken I wanted, and called over - I think it was one of the brasserie staff, to check. She asked where we were sitting, and was adamant that we couldn't eat there, we'd have to be reseated. When I went back and told our organiser, she fetched a maitre-d', who assured me that we could eat anywhere in the establishment, and chaperoned me back to the bar to order and pay.
Others in the group arrived in spurts, and ordered different dishes - but I was to be glad for what I'd ordered, firstly because they'd run out of so many dishes, and secondly because the staff had no idea which those were. Not to mention they had no apparent retention - give them a drinks order containing three items, and they will literally bring them one at a time, and have to be reminded each time that there's something else. At least the food was good, as was the conversation - I had two glasses of wine while I was there (choices B & C - they were out of my preferred choice), and would recommend neither. Insipid, is how I would describe them.
We left in good time for the theatre - I'd had a choice, as she had spare tickets, of either the very, very front row, or a bit further back. What the hey, I told her it didn't matter, and sat right up front with a couple more. She reassured us that a review had said the front row wasn't a disadvantage for this production - although you miss some views of the actors' feet, you don't miss anything of note. As we waited for the production to start, we noted the modern set, and a couple of actors came on to do innocuous things - a lady busied herself with cleaning, and Kit Harington (famous from Game of Thrones, which I don't watch) sat himself on the bed, drooling. Visibly.
You knew it had started when beings started to appear from the walls. Now, Dr. Faustus is a chap who sells his soul to the Devil, and from this production it appears as though he didn't have much of a choice - they were all around him before ever he signed a blood pact. And an eerier bunch of demonic figures I have not seen. Pale, intense - some looked morose, some grinned manically. All had dark eye makeup, making their eyes look hollow. None wore very much, and at the start, two (a man and a woman) were completely naked.
I did notice that after that scene, they slipped into some flimsy underwear - but all the demons' underwear was either white or nude, and barely-there, with something of a habit of slipping off. Or to the side. And yes, we did get a flash of Kit Harington's ass - eventually. For the moment, we contented ourselves with demons, who groped each other as occasion demanded.
They were always there, lending the play a discomfiting air. I found the fellow who played Lucifer particularly disturbing, possibly because of his near-constant grin, smeared with - ink, or treacle, or whatever they were using. They greatly outnumbered the human characters at each point, and were there to demonstrate what Hell was like, and what the hapless Dr. Faustus could expect. Frankly, had they been there to convince me, I'd never have signed the thing..
And what does Dr. Faustus want from all this? To be a magician, it seems, with the cachet of a rock star. Funnily enough, at the interval, the music was all along demonic lines - Sympathy for the Devil played as I queued at the bar for a severely overpriced drink. Dunno where the group vanished to - I searched for them, with the person I was sat beside, but to no avail. Hey-ho, we returned to our seats - and were entertained by the Mephistopheles character, who led us in a sing-song of more demonic songs before the second act (Bat out of Hell, anyone?).
I loved this. I've heard it's had some terrible reviews - I've also heard it described as being aimed at a younger audience - lots of nudity, simulated sex, in-your-face stuff. Plenty of modern references, e.g. politics. Yep, you definitely need an open mind. Also contains strobe lighting. In fact, the warning list posted as you enter the theatre is so long, I wished my phone was working so I could take a photo. But you know something? The man signs a deal with the Devil. What happens to him is supposed to be horrifying - frankly, I think they're just being realistic. What, do you want your demons polite..? And as for accusations of having lost the story - I think we get the gist. Deals with the Devil - not a good idea.
Worked for me. But you do need a strong stomach. Currently booking till 25 June.
Right then! Tomorrow is just filled with comedy shows - and for once, I found one that didn't turn me off. We Are Funny Putney has some acts that look quite good - mind you, most of them were acts I couldn't find on YouTube. Free London Events and Talks are off there - and as a plus, it's decently close to me. Although I had to Google it to find out it's in the Star and Garter.. would help if they put that on the Meetup page! Can probably drive..
Monday, 2 May 2016
Sunday, 1 May 2016
Film: The Midnight Orchestra (L' Orchestre de Minuit)
Ah, that film list.. never more problematic than when shorts are showing. See, I need to check the IMDB ratings of every film showing in town - well, the ones that I might be interested in seeing. And when shorts are showing.. so instead of one title, you might have seven, say.. Oy ve!
It's happened to me before that, by the time the list is done, I've missed whatever was on top of it! Well, at least that didn't happen today - but, ironically, for all those shorts, none of those at the top of the list were showing today. Or, indeed, on any day I could manage. So off they came. Which left a film called The Midnight Orchestra (L' Orchestre de Minuit), about a Moroccan Jew who fled the country because of anti-Jewish feeling following the Yom Kippur war, and returns, years later, as a successful musician when his father asks him. His father duly dies, and the son has the job of burying him - Gad Elmaleh pops up as one of the local rabbis, advising him. I didn't actually know it before, but he's Moroccan himself - I did know the name though; he has a son with Charlotte Casiraghi, the elder daughter of Princess Caroline of Monaco. The title refers to the band that the dead man used to lead, which one of the former members - now hospitalised in a mental institution - hallucinates, calling it "The Midnight Orchestra". So, in short, the son decides to recreate this orchestra in honour of his father.
It was all the way up in JW3 - I've never been before, but it turns out to be on Finchley Road, just up from where I was on Friday. Luckily, they had two showings - by the time I was done with this list, I'd just have had time to scurry out the door if I'd gone to the early showing, and I hadn't eaten yet! So I decided to go to the later showing - the early one was mostly booked out when I looked, so I decided I'd better book.
I planned to go by Overground to Finchley Road & Frognal, practically next door to the venue (the cheaper, but slightly longer, option) and return by Jubilee line from Finchley Road (slightly further away) and train, anticipating a late finish - the Overground doesn't run as late as the Tube. Funnily enough, it happened exactly the opposite way - Google Maps predicted I'd get a train from Clapham Junction at 7:31, but when I got there - at 7:24 - the next scheduled Overground was at 7:46! So I took Plan B - train to Waterloo, and Jubilee Line. The film turned out not to be accompanied by any trailers, or ads at all, apart from one for the centre, so ended promptly, and I got the Overground back!
I was in good time. JW3 is a Jewish cultural centre, and I was somewhat taken aback to find a security bag check at the gate. Well hey, if they have to, I guess.. Inside, there was a library, and once I'd picked up my ticket, I headed downstairs to the cinema. There was also a café, but as I say, I'd just eaten, and wasn't too early to head in. I'd booked myself a central seat - as it happened, I was one of three in that row, with everyone else further back..
This is a very French film. It's very stylish, and the leading man is an absolute delight to look at. Suave, sophisticated, sensitive - the epitome of a French leading man. All he needed was a woman to swoon over him - well, at least that didn't happen. However, that was as good as the film got for me - I do have a couple of problems with French cinema, both of which cropped up here.
Firstly, the damn thing was too introspective. I'm all for a bit of introspection, but for goodness' sake, we knew why he was there, we'd had the tearful shots as he came to terms with his father's death and the realities of his life. Did they have to labour he point? They could easily have chopped off half an hour. Secondly, oh gawd I just don't get French comedy. This is obviously not an opinion shared by everyone - the people behind me, in particular, were falling over themselves for most of the film, snorting away merrily in hilarity. I do hate being in an audience that gets the joke when I don't. Sorry, but I don't find it at all funny to have a suave, sophisticated leading man playing deadpan to a manic, taxi-driving sidekick for the duration, whom he initially dismisses but finally comes to respect as his friend. Yawn. Seen that one before.
But as I say, it was stylish, and that feller is real eye-candy.
Afterwards, the main door was already locked, and a friendly doorperson let us out - individually. There was still a guard on the gate, too. No hanging around here, after hours.. I was decently in time for both the train from down the road, and the one I had to change to in Willesden Junction; just as well, because it was quite chilly.
Tomorrow, as I say, is London Dramatic Arts Meetup, for the rescheduled trip to see Dr. Faustus, at the Duke of York's Theatre. And the organiser was in touch today, to say we'd grab some food and/or drinks beforehand, in Brown's. Which will make a nice change to my routine!
It's happened to me before that, by the time the list is done, I've missed whatever was on top of it! Well, at least that didn't happen today - but, ironically, for all those shorts, none of those at the top of the list were showing today. Or, indeed, on any day I could manage. So off they came. Which left a film called The Midnight Orchestra (L' Orchestre de Minuit), about a Moroccan Jew who fled the country because of anti-Jewish feeling following the Yom Kippur war, and returns, years later, as a successful musician when his father asks him. His father duly dies, and the son has the job of burying him - Gad Elmaleh pops up as one of the local rabbis, advising him. I didn't actually know it before, but he's Moroccan himself - I did know the name though; he has a son with Charlotte Casiraghi, the elder daughter of Princess Caroline of Monaco. The title refers to the band that the dead man used to lead, which one of the former members - now hospitalised in a mental institution - hallucinates, calling it "The Midnight Orchestra". So, in short, the son decides to recreate this orchestra in honour of his father.
It was all the way up in JW3 - I've never been before, but it turns out to be on Finchley Road, just up from where I was on Friday. Luckily, they had two showings - by the time I was done with this list, I'd just have had time to scurry out the door if I'd gone to the early showing, and I hadn't eaten yet! So I decided to go to the later showing - the early one was mostly booked out when I looked, so I decided I'd better book.
I planned to go by Overground to Finchley Road & Frognal, practically next door to the venue (the cheaper, but slightly longer, option) and return by Jubilee line from Finchley Road (slightly further away) and train, anticipating a late finish - the Overground doesn't run as late as the Tube. Funnily enough, it happened exactly the opposite way - Google Maps predicted I'd get a train from Clapham Junction at 7:31, but when I got there - at 7:24 - the next scheduled Overground was at 7:46! So I took Plan B - train to Waterloo, and Jubilee Line. The film turned out not to be accompanied by any trailers, or ads at all, apart from one for the centre, so ended promptly, and I got the Overground back!
I was in good time. JW3 is a Jewish cultural centre, and I was somewhat taken aback to find a security bag check at the gate. Well hey, if they have to, I guess.. Inside, there was a library, and once I'd picked up my ticket, I headed downstairs to the cinema. There was also a café, but as I say, I'd just eaten, and wasn't too early to head in. I'd booked myself a central seat - as it happened, I was one of three in that row, with everyone else further back..
This is a very French film. It's very stylish, and the leading man is an absolute delight to look at. Suave, sophisticated, sensitive - the epitome of a French leading man. All he needed was a woman to swoon over him - well, at least that didn't happen. However, that was as good as the film got for me - I do have a couple of problems with French cinema, both of which cropped up here.
Firstly, the damn thing was too introspective. I'm all for a bit of introspection, but for goodness' sake, we knew why he was there, we'd had the tearful shots as he came to terms with his father's death and the realities of his life. Did they have to labour he point? They could easily have chopped off half an hour. Secondly, oh gawd I just don't get French comedy. This is obviously not an opinion shared by everyone - the people behind me, in particular, were falling over themselves for most of the film, snorting away merrily in hilarity. I do hate being in an audience that gets the joke when I don't. Sorry, but I don't find it at all funny to have a suave, sophisticated leading man playing deadpan to a manic, taxi-driving sidekick for the duration, whom he initially dismisses but finally comes to respect as his friend. Yawn. Seen that one before.
But as I say, it was stylish, and that feller is real eye-candy.
Afterwards, the main door was already locked, and a friendly doorperson let us out - individually. There was still a guard on the gate, too. No hanging around here, after hours.. I was decently in time for both the train from down the road, and the one I had to change to in Willesden Junction; just as well, because it was quite chilly.
Tomorrow, as I say, is London Dramatic Arts Meetup, for the rescheduled trip to see Dr. Faustus, at the Duke of York's Theatre. And the organiser was in touch today, to say we'd grab some food and/or drinks beforehand, in Brown's. Which will make a nice change to my routine!
Saturday, 30 April 2016
Concert: Shakespeare 400
The most interesting thing coming up for today was with London Social Detours, who were off to a finale concert for Shakespeare 400, at the Southbank Centre:
Now, the concert was free, but they were charging a £2 Meetup fee. They were having dinner and drinks beforehand, but it wasn't included for this price.. and I only knew one person who was going.. why on earth would it have been worth it to me to pay £2? Instead, I had a beautifully lazy day, ate at home, and headed in nice and late, since the concert didn't start until 9:45PM.
Of course, with so much time to spare, I was late. I was lucky with the train - one was waiting on the platform when I got there, and obligingly waited for me to gasp my way onboard - but still I couldn't quite make it to the centre in time. Ah well, I reasoned, at least the music will have started, and I can follow the sound to find it - the venue was the "Clore Ballroom", which is listed on the Southbank Centre website as being a "foyer venue", but they give no further details.
I entered by the nearest door, and sure enough, heard the music. The ballroom is, indeed, open to the rest of the foyer, and is down some steps from the café. A crowd was gathered around, and I made my way as close as possible to the band (the Royal College of Music Big Band, as it hppened). The seats were all gone by this stage, of course, but what the hey, it was only due to last 45 minutes anyway! I took up a position just at the back of the seating.
I could see several free programmes, but there weren't any of those for me, either. So I did my usual thing of reading over somebody's shoulder - which is how I know that each of the pieces was related to a piece of Shakespeare's work. I wouldn't have known otherwise, considering that the material was attributable to Duke Ellington - not a contemporary of Shakespeare's. I'd known that in advance, but had thought that there might be a speaker or something, considering that this was supposed to be related to Shakespeare!
Nope, just the jazz. But cool, cool jazz it was, played by a proficient student band, with an exuberant conductor who made most of them do solos, for each of which he turned to the audience with a gleeful grin on his face. They played one encore, for which he tried to encourage the audience to take to the floor - after all, as he pointed out, this was a ballroom; the clue was in the name! Only one actually did, letting loose to the side - and fair play to her. And then we were out into the night again.. not a terribly Shakespearian evening, to be fair, but an enjoyable one. And no, I didn't see that guy I knew.
This post would have been earlier, except that I'm thinking of going to a film tomorrow - and given that I choose on the basis of IMDB ratings, and have a spreadsheet for that, that meant I had to update the spreadsheet: which I only got around to starting today. And given that there are several shorts, each of which I have to check on IMDB - I've given up for the night. It's mostly done, but I won't be able to determine what to go to until I finish. Watch this space.. and, of course, whatever it is will have to be showing at a time I can manage!
Anyway, to finish off the long weekend, on Monday I'm back with London Dramatic Arts Meetup, for the rescheduled trip to see Dr. Faustus, at the Duke of York's Theatre.
Now, the concert was free, but they were charging a £2 Meetup fee. They were having dinner and drinks beforehand, but it wasn't included for this price.. and I only knew one person who was going.. why on earth would it have been worth it to me to pay £2? Instead, I had a beautifully lazy day, ate at home, and headed in nice and late, since the concert didn't start until 9:45PM.
Of course, with so much time to spare, I was late. I was lucky with the train - one was waiting on the platform when I got there, and obligingly waited for me to gasp my way onboard - but still I couldn't quite make it to the centre in time. Ah well, I reasoned, at least the music will have started, and I can follow the sound to find it - the venue was the "Clore Ballroom", which is listed on the Southbank Centre website as being a "foyer venue", but they give no further details.
I entered by the nearest door, and sure enough, heard the music. The ballroom is, indeed, open to the rest of the foyer, and is down some steps from the café. A crowd was gathered around, and I made my way as close as possible to the band (the Royal College of Music Big Band, as it hppened). The seats were all gone by this stage, of course, but what the hey, it was only due to last 45 minutes anyway! I took up a position just at the back of the seating.
I could see several free programmes, but there weren't any of those for me, either. So I did my usual thing of reading over somebody's shoulder - which is how I know that each of the pieces was related to a piece of Shakespeare's work. I wouldn't have known otherwise, considering that the material was attributable to Duke Ellington - not a contemporary of Shakespeare's. I'd known that in advance, but had thought that there might be a speaker or something, considering that this was supposed to be related to Shakespeare!
Nope, just the jazz. But cool, cool jazz it was, played by a proficient student band, with an exuberant conductor who made most of them do solos, for each of which he turned to the audience with a gleeful grin on his face. They played one encore, for which he tried to encourage the audience to take to the floor - after all, as he pointed out, this was a ballroom; the clue was in the name! Only one actually did, letting loose to the side - and fair play to her. And then we were out into the night again.. not a terribly Shakespearian evening, to be fair, but an enjoyable one. And no, I didn't see that guy I knew.
This post would have been earlier, except that I'm thinking of going to a film tomorrow - and given that I choose on the basis of IMDB ratings, and have a spreadsheet for that, that meant I had to update the spreadsheet: which I only got around to starting today. And given that there are several shorts, each of which I have to check on IMDB - I've given up for the night. It's mostly done, but I won't be able to determine what to go to until I finish. Watch this space.. and, of course, whatever it is will have to be showing at a time I can manage!
Anyway, to finish off the long weekend, on Monday I'm back with London Dramatic Arts Meetup, for the rescheduled trip to see Dr. Faustus, at the Duke of York's Theatre.
Friday, 29 April 2016
Play: Lawrence After Arabia
London Dramatic Arts were off to see Lawrence After Arabia tonight. Sounded interesting. As it happened, I could get a cheaper ticket than they were offering (from Hampstead Theatre, where it's playing) - so I did. Now, they frown upon that sort of thing - so I determined to avoid them. Should be ok, I reasoned - I had a ticket upstairs, they tend to go in the stalls..
I left early enough to catch the Overground, which was the cheapest way to get there. Dashed up the stairs, and was glad for the two women who panted up all those stairs even later than I did (and still made it)! I'd recovered - mostly - by the time we got to Finchley Road & Frognal. I had about 10 minutes to make it to the theatre by this stage, and my shoes were not made for walking - not quickly, anyway; I was pretty exhausted by the time I'd trotted all the way down Finchley Road. Not a tricky journey, at least - turn right from the station, and follow the road until you come to the second Tube station - Swiss Cottage - which is on your left. The theatre is right behind it - you can take a side road just before the station proper.
Well, at least there was no chance of meeting the group on the way in - I wasn't the only latecomer, and several staff members were anxiously communicating on walkie-talkies. I was about the last to take my seat, being upstairs - he offered me the row in the front of my section, but what the hey, I took my allotted seat. Which was dead centre - disturbed a few people on the way in, but had a great view. Spent some time unsuccessfully trying to recognise group members in the stalls, from the backs of their heads.
This is the enduringly fascinating story of Lawrence of Arabia - but, as the name implies, it's set after he came back from there. In fact, we open in the drawing room of George Bernard Shaw - he and his wife get the best lines in this. After a short time, Lawrence comes to stay - he's in search of anonymity, which is hard for him to find following his return, the publication of his autobiographical Seven Pillars of Wisdom, and a publicity campaign that seems to have been foisted upon him.
He's a troubled soul. He feels that the British government betrayed the Arabs, promising them a united nation and then carving it up - and he feels personally responsible. He craves normality, trying to enlist in different branches of the armed forces under different names. And we get constant flashbacks to his time in Arabia.. these are what most people will principally enjoy in this play, I think. With Arabian music wafting over these scenes, and Arabic-looking actors in Arabic robes, we do get a sense of the desert: and the staging is most efficient - all they have to do is slide back a couple of drawing-room panels to reveal the desert, hiding behind.:
I found it fascinating. It's topical, with everything that's happening in that part of the world just now - goodness, Damascus is mentioned so many times in this play! It's good to get a potted history of how the British and French carved up the region, just under 100 years ago, laying the foundations for some of the problems of today. And it's lovely to see Lawrence's character, with his obvious respect for the Arabs. I don't really think I got anything terribly deep or meaningful from this - but as history lite, it worked excellently. Playing until 4 June - booking probably advisable, and tomorrow is the last day of previews (so, slightly cheaper tickets).
I hid in my seat at the interval, of course, and watched the group pass out to the bar. They weren't in the front row of the stalls, for once, but slightly back. I'd have loved to have chatted to them - but what can you do, with a group whose organiser takes that attitude? Instead, I spent the interval eavesdropping on the conversation of the couple beside me, who - whether or not you agreed with them - proved quite fascinating, first discussing the historical legacy of Lawrence of Arabia, then - like everyone these days - the Brexit!
Afterwards, I was worried when I saw the group leaving the auditorium at about the same time I did. I really couldn't meet them - not after having been with them last night and saying nothing about coming here! I decided to pull up the hood of my coat. Very clandestine. Lord knows what the people around me thought - but I couldn't take the risk. In the lobby, I just managed to avoid one of them - then realised that I'd have to pass straight through the bar to get to the exit.. and right past the group! Mercifully, there was a back door.. which I nipped out of, in relief. And timing my trains perfectly, I was home within the hour.
Tomorrow, another Meetup group - London Social Detours - is off to a free concert in the Southbank Centre, as part of Shakespeare 400 (the celebration of the 400th anniversary of his death). So I think I'll mosey along. They're charging £2, so I think I'll mosey along independently - there's only one of that group I know, so I think I'll get away with it. It's late, which means a nice, lazy day..
I left early enough to catch the Overground, which was the cheapest way to get there. Dashed up the stairs, and was glad for the two women who panted up all those stairs even later than I did (and still made it)! I'd recovered - mostly - by the time we got to Finchley Road & Frognal. I had about 10 minutes to make it to the theatre by this stage, and my shoes were not made for walking - not quickly, anyway; I was pretty exhausted by the time I'd trotted all the way down Finchley Road. Not a tricky journey, at least - turn right from the station, and follow the road until you come to the second Tube station - Swiss Cottage - which is on your left. The theatre is right behind it - you can take a side road just before the station proper.
Well, at least there was no chance of meeting the group on the way in - I wasn't the only latecomer, and several staff members were anxiously communicating on walkie-talkies. I was about the last to take my seat, being upstairs - he offered me the row in the front of my section, but what the hey, I took my allotted seat. Which was dead centre - disturbed a few people on the way in, but had a great view. Spent some time unsuccessfully trying to recognise group members in the stalls, from the backs of their heads.
This is the enduringly fascinating story of Lawrence of Arabia - but, as the name implies, it's set after he came back from there. In fact, we open in the drawing room of George Bernard Shaw - he and his wife get the best lines in this. After a short time, Lawrence comes to stay - he's in search of anonymity, which is hard for him to find following his return, the publication of his autobiographical Seven Pillars of Wisdom, and a publicity campaign that seems to have been foisted upon him.
He's a troubled soul. He feels that the British government betrayed the Arabs, promising them a united nation and then carving it up - and he feels personally responsible. He craves normality, trying to enlist in different branches of the armed forces under different names. And we get constant flashbacks to his time in Arabia.. these are what most people will principally enjoy in this play, I think. With Arabian music wafting over these scenes, and Arabic-looking actors in Arabic robes, we do get a sense of the desert: and the staging is most efficient - all they have to do is slide back a couple of drawing-room panels to reveal the desert, hiding behind.:
I found it fascinating. It's topical, with everything that's happening in that part of the world just now - goodness, Damascus is mentioned so many times in this play! It's good to get a potted history of how the British and French carved up the region, just under 100 years ago, laying the foundations for some of the problems of today. And it's lovely to see Lawrence's character, with his obvious respect for the Arabs. I don't really think I got anything terribly deep or meaningful from this - but as history lite, it worked excellently. Playing until 4 June - booking probably advisable, and tomorrow is the last day of previews (so, slightly cheaper tickets).
I hid in my seat at the interval, of course, and watched the group pass out to the bar. They weren't in the front row of the stalls, for once, but slightly back. I'd have loved to have chatted to them - but what can you do, with a group whose organiser takes that attitude? Instead, I spent the interval eavesdropping on the conversation of the couple beside me, who - whether or not you agreed with them - proved quite fascinating, first discussing the historical legacy of Lawrence of Arabia, then - like everyone these days - the Brexit!
Afterwards, I was worried when I saw the group leaving the auditorium at about the same time I did. I really couldn't meet them - not after having been with them last night and saying nothing about coming here! I decided to pull up the hood of my coat. Very clandestine. Lord knows what the people around me thought - but I couldn't take the risk. In the lobby, I just managed to avoid one of them - then realised that I'd have to pass straight through the bar to get to the exit.. and right past the group! Mercifully, there was a back door.. which I nipped out of, in relief. And timing my trains perfectly, I was home within the hour.
Tomorrow, another Meetup group - London Social Detours - is off to a free concert in the Southbank Centre, as part of Shakespeare 400 (the celebration of the 400th anniversary of his death). So I think I'll mosey along. They're charging £2, so I think I'll mosey along independently - there's only one of that group I know, so I think I'll get away with it. It's late, which means a nice, lazy day..
Play: The Flick
Every now and again, London Dramatic Arts Meetup comes up with a cheaper ticket for a performance than I can get anywhere else. Which determines whether I'll go with them - frankly, I've had some bad experiences with them that have soured the group for me, somewhat. Well, I'm willing to give them a chance if they can get me a cheap ticket - which is why I ended up with them last night for The Flick, at the Dorfman (formerly the Cottesloe) in the National.
It was an early start, at 7, but I was fairy confident of making it unless I was delayed. I was delayed. Apparently, there'd been accidents all day, for some reason, and the effects were still being felt by the time I got away. On my way back into London, it became apparent that I wouldn't make it for the start, and I texted the organiser to ask that my ticket be left at the box office.
I was lucky enough with the train - I'd thought I wouldn't be in time for the next departure to Waterloo, at the other end of Clapham Junction, but hurried down there anyway, knowing that Platform 10 was the one with the most frequent departures. Lookee that - the train that was "due" was inexplicably delayed, and pulled in just after I got to the platform. No delay for me there, then. I knew my way to the National, and as I had remarked to my passenger on the way back in the car, at least when you know you're going to be late, and there's nothing to be done about it, it really takes the pressure off. I knew to pass to the other side of the National for the Dorfman, and strolled in at about 7:15.
The staff were attentive enough, and I was immediately asked whether I was there for The Flick, and directed to the ticket desk (right in front of me). Where there was some confusion, as only my first name had been written on the ticket. And I didn't know the organiser's married name. Well, but I did know her first name, and - ticket in hand - I made use of my spare time to go to the toilet.
When I came back, it was to take a seat in the foyer bar and wait to be called to take my seat in the theatre. There was a screen on which we could watch the performance, live - well, kind of. It was so small I could hardly make out anything that was happening, and the volume was so low, I could hardly hear anything. Particularly with the loud conversation of the bar staff. I eventually realised there were a couple of playtexts with which we could follow what was going on - but they were in use, so I sat there and waited. I do hate being late here - the facilities are dire.
In due course, we were assigned an usher each (sort of), and a couple of us with seats near the stage were told we couldn't take those seats until after the interval, and asked whether we'd mind sitting further back until then. Fair enough. Oh, but the palaver of getting us into the auditorium - really, did we have to wait for quite so long, our usher peeking around the door to see whether there was a break and she could hurry us in?! And when we made it, it was to plastic chairs that had been moved from the back wall, and were now positioned in a corner of the balcony: from which I could see about half the stage. At least the volume was better in here, but it was an inauspicious start. Sadly, I could see my vacant, front row seat from where I was watching.
It's set in a cinema, the stage filled with rows of tip-up seats, and the play centres around the bits in between films, when the staff come in to clean. When the lights come up after another brief period of darkness (that's when the film is on), little vignettes give us snippets of conversation among the staff. It's hard to get into a comedy after the start: people were laughing around me - I wasn't. I considered leaving - but something kept me there. See, it's a great premise for a play - the script contained exactly the sort of weird, rambling little chats you might have with people you vaguely know, in an environment such as a cinema with the lights up, when there's really nothing else to do.
As the play progressed, I started to relax into it. It's also a great play if you're at all into film - these characters patently are, and many of the conversations revolve around film - film connections, what can be considered a great film, and so on. There's a slight plot, but mainly the style was what impressed me - a nice, relaxed, easy, chatty style of conversation: quite funny, quite entertaining. Hey, and I had the best of both worlds, in a way - a bird's-eye view for the first act, when I could see the whole spread of the seats on stage, and for the second act I was up close, and could see the actors' expressions: particularly Sam's, which really helped (he has a great face for comedy, really expressive). Definitely recommended for anyone into film - runs until the 15th June, booking advisable; it's quite popular. Contains strobe lighting.
At the interval, I was out quickly and to the bar, securing a glass of wine - lucky, because it became impossible later, with the crowd. And after a while, I spotted members of my group, and could reassure them that yes, I had pretty much caught most of the play so far! We chatted pleasantly, but it's not a comfortable environment - the Dorfman bar is far too small, was terribly crowded, and the open door let in a freezing cold breeze (coat advised!). We'd just had about enough of it by the time the bell went for the second act, and we went in. At the end of the evening, they didn't want to go anywhere - this group generally don't, on a worknight. So I got home reasonably early - but you know, not all groups are so well behaved, and after the exertions of the night before, I was pretty tired: too much so to blog.
Tonight, the same group are off to Lawrence After Arabia, in Hampstead Theatre - I got cheaper from the theatre itself, so I'm going separately. (And oh, but it was a little uncomfortable as we were saying our farewells last night, and many of them were talking about how they'd be coming tonight.) They don't like people buying their own tickets, see. And what's worse, they still have one ticket available, at time of writing - so my branching out on my own would not be appreciated. Anyway, I have a seat upstairs, so it should be possible to avoid them - and, of course, having banned me from linking to this blog on their website, they're less likely to read the blog and find out what I'm doing. And I think I'll survive a night without them. Only thing is, the theatre doesn't do Print at Home, so I have to pick up the blasted ticket..
It was an early start, at 7, but I was fairy confident of making it unless I was delayed. I was delayed. Apparently, there'd been accidents all day, for some reason, and the effects were still being felt by the time I got away. On my way back into London, it became apparent that I wouldn't make it for the start, and I texted the organiser to ask that my ticket be left at the box office.
I was lucky enough with the train - I'd thought I wouldn't be in time for the next departure to Waterloo, at the other end of Clapham Junction, but hurried down there anyway, knowing that Platform 10 was the one with the most frequent departures. Lookee that - the train that was "due" was inexplicably delayed, and pulled in just after I got to the platform. No delay for me there, then. I knew my way to the National, and as I had remarked to my passenger on the way back in the car, at least when you know you're going to be late, and there's nothing to be done about it, it really takes the pressure off. I knew to pass to the other side of the National for the Dorfman, and strolled in at about 7:15.
The staff were attentive enough, and I was immediately asked whether I was there for The Flick, and directed to the ticket desk (right in front of me). Where there was some confusion, as only my first name had been written on the ticket. And I didn't know the organiser's married name. Well, but I did know her first name, and - ticket in hand - I made use of my spare time to go to the toilet.
When I came back, it was to take a seat in the foyer bar and wait to be called to take my seat in the theatre. There was a screen on which we could watch the performance, live - well, kind of. It was so small I could hardly make out anything that was happening, and the volume was so low, I could hardly hear anything. Particularly with the loud conversation of the bar staff. I eventually realised there were a couple of playtexts with which we could follow what was going on - but they were in use, so I sat there and waited. I do hate being late here - the facilities are dire.
In due course, we were assigned an usher each (sort of), and a couple of us with seats near the stage were told we couldn't take those seats until after the interval, and asked whether we'd mind sitting further back until then. Fair enough. Oh, but the palaver of getting us into the auditorium - really, did we have to wait for quite so long, our usher peeking around the door to see whether there was a break and she could hurry us in?! And when we made it, it was to plastic chairs that had been moved from the back wall, and were now positioned in a corner of the balcony: from which I could see about half the stage. At least the volume was better in here, but it was an inauspicious start. Sadly, I could see my vacant, front row seat from where I was watching.
It's set in a cinema, the stage filled with rows of tip-up seats, and the play centres around the bits in between films, when the staff come in to clean. When the lights come up after another brief period of darkness (that's when the film is on), little vignettes give us snippets of conversation among the staff. It's hard to get into a comedy after the start: people were laughing around me - I wasn't. I considered leaving - but something kept me there. See, it's a great premise for a play - the script contained exactly the sort of weird, rambling little chats you might have with people you vaguely know, in an environment such as a cinema with the lights up, when there's really nothing else to do.
As the play progressed, I started to relax into it. It's also a great play if you're at all into film - these characters patently are, and many of the conversations revolve around film - film connections, what can be considered a great film, and so on. There's a slight plot, but mainly the style was what impressed me - a nice, relaxed, easy, chatty style of conversation: quite funny, quite entertaining. Hey, and I had the best of both worlds, in a way - a bird's-eye view for the first act, when I could see the whole spread of the seats on stage, and for the second act I was up close, and could see the actors' expressions: particularly Sam's, which really helped (he has a great face for comedy, really expressive). Definitely recommended for anyone into film - runs until the 15th June, booking advisable; it's quite popular. Contains strobe lighting.
At the interval, I was out quickly and to the bar, securing a glass of wine - lucky, because it became impossible later, with the crowd. And after a while, I spotted members of my group, and could reassure them that yes, I had pretty much caught most of the play so far! We chatted pleasantly, but it's not a comfortable environment - the Dorfman bar is far too small, was terribly crowded, and the open door let in a freezing cold breeze (coat advised!). We'd just had about enough of it by the time the bell went for the second act, and we went in. At the end of the evening, they didn't want to go anywhere - this group generally don't, on a worknight. So I got home reasonably early - but you know, not all groups are so well behaved, and after the exertions of the night before, I was pretty tired: too much so to blog.
Tonight, the same group are off to Lawrence After Arabia, in Hampstead Theatre - I got cheaper from the theatre itself, so I'm going separately. (And oh, but it was a little uncomfortable as we were saying our farewells last night, and many of them were talking about how they'd be coming tonight.) They don't like people buying their own tickets, see. And what's worse, they still have one ticket available, at time of writing - so my branching out on my own would not be appreciated. Anyway, I have a seat upstairs, so it should be possible to avoid them - and, of course, having banned me from linking to this blog on their website, they're less likely to read the blog and find out what I'm doing. And I think I'll survive a night without them. Only thing is, the theatre doesn't do Print at Home, so I have to pick up the blasted ticket..
Thursday, 28 April 2016
Musical: The Toxic Avenger
Ah now, that was better.. Let's Do London - for less! was headed to a show in Southwark Playhouse last night. No need to know what it was about - that was enough for me, and I booked. Hasn't been a bad choice yet!
Working from home, I had plenty of time to get myself to the bus stop - amazingly, the bus I saw pass as I approached wasn't a 344, and I had to wait under five minutes for one to arrive. And off I sped on the old familiar bus route again, arriving at the theatre just after the Man with the Hat had said he would, about 6:50. There they were, down the back - a more select group this time, which gave us a good chance to chat before we went in. Surprise, though - assigned seating! Seems to be a new policy here - well, our seats were fine. Never doubted they would be - we'll see whether they keep up this new seating policy.
The show was The Toxic Avenger. I believe some of us had heard of it before - I wasn't one. Appropriately, the elaborate set was populated with enormous drums with signs on the side indicating "Toxic Waste", "Biological Waste", "Hazardous Waste". That kind of thing. I know someone who used to work with hazardous chemicals - pity she wasn't there, would've been right up her street! A band was discreetly positioned on the upper level of the set.
The show tells the story of mild-mannered Melvin, an environmental activist, who gets unceremoniously dumped into one of those large vats of toxic stuff, which turns him into a mutant with superhuman strength. And from then on, he battles corrupt government officials, fights for green rights, and falls in love with a blind librarian (!).
That's the short story. Not sure whether you'd enjoy it? I DEFY you not to. It's hilarious. There was a chap in front of me who couldn't stop laughing for the entire first act - I really thought he might do himself an injury. They know the story is daft - in fact, they play up every possible comic angle, frequently sending themselves up. If you're in the front row, prepare to be.. interacted with. Mildly. And a catchy soundtrack is perfectly sung - as so often with shows in this, and similar venues, the production values are as good as anything you'll get in the West End, with far smaller ticket prices. And it's more fun than most. Great set for the venue, quick costume changes, good use of the space.
Like musicals? Head to this - I said it to myself during the performance: There is not one thing about this that is not fantastic. The musician in our group picked up on several musical references - and as she said, if you leave singing the numbers, it's a good sign. My favourite? The last song of the first act - I can think of several uses for it. Ooh, that'll stay with me. Runs until 21st - go see, for goodness' sake!
Our group stayed on in the bar, of course, gradually dwindling as time passed, until we were left with a hardcore triumvirate at chucking-out time. As I said at the start - ah now, this was better! If you've read the blog for it, you'll know that at the travel talk I was at on Monday, in the Q+A afterwards, he was asked where he called home - to which he replied, "Home isn't a place, it's a person". He has a point - I came home last night.
It was already after bedtime when I caught the bus to my physical home, and this morning was manic - hence the delay in the blog. Tonight, my group isn't really taking me home - to a hotel, perhaps. I'm back with London Dramatic Arts, heading to The Flick, at the Dorfman (in the National). Oh, and tomorrow, they're off to Lawrence After Arabia, in Hampstead Theatre - I got cheaper from the theatre itself, so I'm going separately. They don't like that, but I have a seat upstairs, so it should be possible to avoid them - and, of course, having banned me from linking to this blog on their website, they're less likely to read the blog and find out what I'm doing. And I think I'll survive a night without them..
Working from home, I had plenty of time to get myself to the bus stop - amazingly, the bus I saw pass as I approached wasn't a 344, and I had to wait under five minutes for one to arrive. And off I sped on the old familiar bus route again, arriving at the theatre just after the Man with the Hat had said he would, about 6:50. There they were, down the back - a more select group this time, which gave us a good chance to chat before we went in. Surprise, though - assigned seating! Seems to be a new policy here - well, our seats were fine. Never doubted they would be - we'll see whether they keep up this new seating policy.
The show was The Toxic Avenger. I believe some of us had heard of it before - I wasn't one. Appropriately, the elaborate set was populated with enormous drums with signs on the side indicating "Toxic Waste", "Biological Waste", "Hazardous Waste". That kind of thing. I know someone who used to work with hazardous chemicals - pity she wasn't there, would've been right up her street! A band was discreetly positioned on the upper level of the set.
The show tells the story of mild-mannered Melvin, an environmental activist, who gets unceremoniously dumped into one of those large vats of toxic stuff, which turns him into a mutant with superhuman strength. And from then on, he battles corrupt government officials, fights for green rights, and falls in love with a blind librarian (!).
That's the short story. Not sure whether you'd enjoy it? I DEFY you not to. It's hilarious. There was a chap in front of me who couldn't stop laughing for the entire first act - I really thought he might do himself an injury. They know the story is daft - in fact, they play up every possible comic angle, frequently sending themselves up. If you're in the front row, prepare to be.. interacted with. Mildly. And a catchy soundtrack is perfectly sung - as so often with shows in this, and similar venues, the production values are as good as anything you'll get in the West End, with far smaller ticket prices. And it's more fun than most. Great set for the venue, quick costume changes, good use of the space.
Like musicals? Head to this - I said it to myself during the performance: There is not one thing about this that is not fantastic. The musician in our group picked up on several musical references - and as she said, if you leave singing the numbers, it's a good sign. My favourite? The last song of the first act - I can think of several uses for it. Ooh, that'll stay with me. Runs until 21st - go see, for goodness' sake!
Our group stayed on in the bar, of course, gradually dwindling as time passed, until we were left with a hardcore triumvirate at chucking-out time. As I said at the start - ah now, this was better! If you've read the blog for it, you'll know that at the travel talk I was at on Monday, in the Q+A afterwards, he was asked where he called home - to which he replied, "Home isn't a place, it's a person". He has a point - I came home last night.
It was already after bedtime when I caught the bus to my physical home, and this morning was manic - hence the delay in the blog. Tonight, my group isn't really taking me home - to a hotel, perhaps. I'm back with London Dramatic Arts, heading to The Flick, at the Dorfman (in the National). Oh, and tomorrow, they're off to Lawrence After Arabia, in Hampstead Theatre - I got cheaper from the theatre itself, so I'm going separately. They don't like that, but I have a seat upstairs, so it should be possible to avoid them - and, of course, having banned me from linking to this blog on their website, they're less likely to read the blog and find out what I'm doing. And I think I'll survive a night without them..
Tuesday, 26 April 2016
Concert: De Fuego
I was supposed to be going to a talk tonight. I mean, I'd have gone, but I wasn't that enthused about it - booked it a while ago, when nothing more interesting was scheduled for tonight. And then, the World Music Meetup organised a concert with De Fuego, a Spanish guitar duo. Ah well - Spanish guitar is a magnet to me, so I had no hesitation in changing my plans!
Shoreditch again, so again I didn't want to drive - the route's just too complicated. This time, it didn't start till 9, which gave me plenty of time to get out - so I decided to get the bus, since it's cheapest, and it turned out that the 344, which I can get just down the road, terminates within easy walking distance of the place! I'd be taking it pretty much for its entire route - fair enough, and I checked out my route to the Bedroom Bar on Streetview.
A freezing cold wait for the bus, just like yesterday. The bus itself was nice and warm, which was a relief on thus near-hour-long journey. I did remark, as we went, just how many places are familiar to me on this bus route! It's the bus I'll be taking to the Southwark Playhouse tomorrow.. the bus I'll be taking to The Globe, Thursday of next week.. I noticed it also passes right by the Menier Chocolate Factory, which could yet prove handy! Across the river, it passes Monument Station, heads to Liverpool Street Station and Spitalfields, and finally, I was the very last to leave, on Appold Street - the last stop.
I had to walk straight ahead - or as straight as I could, given road works, cul-de-sacs, and junctions. I passed a map on the way - reassuringly - but actually, didn't get lost at all, eventually coming upon Rivington Street. I turned right there, and immediately saw the bar sign ahead of me, on the right. Approaching the window, I actually spotted what turned out to be my group straight away, sitting inside - as usual with a strange bar, it's not always easy to find the entrance, and the doors at that side turned out to be a fire exit. No, the actual entrance was further down, with a friendly bouncer - who chatted with me about the snow that fell earlier - and plenty of signs advertising De Fuego.
Inside, it's quite cosy - wood floor, fire to the left, in what might be a restaurant section. The bar is to the right, with a small stage at the far end, draped in heavy, red curtains. Standard lamps are dotted about the place, aiding the cosiness - oh, and the back of the stage is decorated with saw blades. Go figure. Yes, that was my table, and I bagged a chair and made for the toilets - weak hand dryer and a kind of foot pull on the door, designed so that you didn't have to use your hands to open the door, after washing them. Too much trouble, I discovered, and used the handle as normal.
The bar had a sign up requiring an £8 minimum spend on cards - bummer, I didn't have cash. The smiley barmaid couldn't have been more apologetic. So I ended up having to have a bag of crisps with my large wine - which came to exactly £8, altogether. Well, they were tasty - if a bit fiery, being of "sweet potato, cheese, and jalapeno pepper" flavour. And I just took my seat as the band took the stage - late, as always with live acts, but not too much so.
I'm afraid, for me, it went downhill from there. They're accomplished enough, but it transpired I just didn't like their music! Well, it was ok, but no more than that for me. The two covers that they performed were far and away my highlights of the evening - Rodrigo y Gabriela's Tamacun, and a guitar version of a piece from Amélie. The rest just didn't make an impression. I should really have listened to their stuff in advance, but I never thought I'd come across Spanish guitar I didn't like!
They played enthusiastically for about an hour, then took a break for half an hour before beginning their second set. My group, sadly, weren't people I know very well, and I didn't gel with them - after a very dull interval, when some folks started to leave before the second set, because it ran too late and they had to get home, I decided to join them. Well, I say "join them" - I walked out alone, since none of the others who were leaving were interested in even bidding me farewell. Relieved to be out, I made my way easily to the bus stop and got home a lot earlier than predicted.
Tomorrow, mercifully, I'm back in familiar and friendly territory with the Man with the Hat, who's taking Let's Do London - for less! to (ahem) The Toxic Avenger, in, as mentioned, Southwark Playhouse. I predict an interesting night, both onstage and off - no crystal ball required.
On Thursday, I'm back with London Dramatic Arts, for The Flick, at the Dorfman (in the National). Oh, and on Friday, they're off to Lawrence After Arabia, in Hampstead Theatre - I got cheaper from the theatre itself, so I'm going separately. They don't like that, but I have a seat upstairs, so it should be possible to avoid them - and, of course, having banned me from linking to this blog on their website, they're less likely to read the blog and find out what I'm doing. And while I don't mind socialising with them - I can happily do without it, on occasion!
Shoreditch again, so again I didn't want to drive - the route's just too complicated. This time, it didn't start till 9, which gave me plenty of time to get out - so I decided to get the bus, since it's cheapest, and it turned out that the 344, which I can get just down the road, terminates within easy walking distance of the place! I'd be taking it pretty much for its entire route - fair enough, and I checked out my route to the Bedroom Bar on Streetview.
A freezing cold wait for the bus, just like yesterday. The bus itself was nice and warm, which was a relief on thus near-hour-long journey. I did remark, as we went, just how many places are familiar to me on this bus route! It's the bus I'll be taking to the Southwark Playhouse tomorrow.. the bus I'll be taking to The Globe, Thursday of next week.. I noticed it also passes right by the Menier Chocolate Factory, which could yet prove handy! Across the river, it passes Monument Station, heads to Liverpool Street Station and Spitalfields, and finally, I was the very last to leave, on Appold Street - the last stop.
I had to walk straight ahead - or as straight as I could, given road works, cul-de-sacs, and junctions. I passed a map on the way - reassuringly - but actually, didn't get lost at all, eventually coming upon Rivington Street. I turned right there, and immediately saw the bar sign ahead of me, on the right. Approaching the window, I actually spotted what turned out to be my group straight away, sitting inside - as usual with a strange bar, it's not always easy to find the entrance, and the doors at that side turned out to be a fire exit. No, the actual entrance was further down, with a friendly bouncer - who chatted with me about the snow that fell earlier - and plenty of signs advertising De Fuego.
Inside, it's quite cosy - wood floor, fire to the left, in what might be a restaurant section. The bar is to the right, with a small stage at the far end, draped in heavy, red curtains. Standard lamps are dotted about the place, aiding the cosiness - oh, and the back of the stage is decorated with saw blades. Go figure. Yes, that was my table, and I bagged a chair and made for the toilets - weak hand dryer and a kind of foot pull on the door, designed so that you didn't have to use your hands to open the door, after washing them. Too much trouble, I discovered, and used the handle as normal.
The bar had a sign up requiring an £8 minimum spend on cards - bummer, I didn't have cash. The smiley barmaid couldn't have been more apologetic. So I ended up having to have a bag of crisps with my large wine - which came to exactly £8, altogether. Well, they were tasty - if a bit fiery, being of "sweet potato, cheese, and jalapeno pepper" flavour. And I just took my seat as the band took the stage - late, as always with live acts, but not too much so.
I'm afraid, for me, it went downhill from there. They're accomplished enough, but it transpired I just didn't like their music! Well, it was ok, but no more than that for me. The two covers that they performed were far and away my highlights of the evening - Rodrigo y Gabriela's Tamacun, and a guitar version of a piece from Amélie. The rest just didn't make an impression. I should really have listened to their stuff in advance, but I never thought I'd come across Spanish guitar I didn't like!
They played enthusiastically for about an hour, then took a break for half an hour before beginning their second set. My group, sadly, weren't people I know very well, and I didn't gel with them - after a very dull interval, when some folks started to leave before the second set, because it ran too late and they had to get home, I decided to join them. Well, I say "join them" - I walked out alone, since none of the others who were leaving were interested in even bidding me farewell. Relieved to be out, I made my way easily to the bus stop and got home a lot earlier than predicted.
Tomorrow, mercifully, I'm back in familiar and friendly territory with the Man with the Hat, who's taking Let's Do London - for less! to (ahem) The Toxic Avenger, in, as mentioned, Southwark Playhouse. I predict an interesting night, both onstage and off - no crystal ball required.
On Thursday, I'm back with London Dramatic Arts, for The Flick, at the Dorfman (in the National). Oh, and on Friday, they're off to Lawrence After Arabia, in Hampstead Theatre - I got cheaper from the theatre itself, so I'm going separately. They don't like that, but I have a seat upstairs, so it should be possible to avoid them - and, of course, having banned me from linking to this blog on their website, they're less likely to read the blog and find out what I'm doing. And while I don't mind socialising with them - I can happily do without it, on occasion!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)