The Father and The Assassin

Wednesday October 11, 2023

My second solo theatre trip. 

Occasionally laugh out loud funny, continuously entertaining, lastingly hard hitting. A comedy about the assassination of Mahatma Gandhi, with a scary relevance to politics today. 

Accidental Death of an Anarchist

 Friday, 18th August 2023

Pre-Lacanau fun in London at this very pleasing comedy. 

Always intended as a political piece about police malpractice and corruption, this updated very well and resonated with a strong message give the proximity to the murder of Sarah Everard and ongoing revelations of Met police racism and misongony. There was plenty to be angry about in the closing summary which showed how far we have to go but laughs a plenty in the body of the show and strong, chaotic, frenzied, comic acting. Only the use of the Italian protect song jarred and highlighted the historic nature of the play which remains sadly relevant and pertinent. I thought that might have been readily undateable and a lone misstep of an otherwise strong production.

The Pillowman

Wednesday, 19th July 2023

Well, one has to get back on the horse so this was my next theatre venture after the indescribably, irredeemably awful A Little Life. It was also my first ever solo theatre trip and a fairly successful one.

I bagged a cheap seat, front row - restricted view if you are short but fine for me - loads of legroom and settled in for ... well, I wasn't really sure.

What followed was bleak and chilling but with a purpose and message (unlike A Little Life). A worrying and difficult tale. I've subsequently read mixed reviews of Lily Allen's Katurian but I thought she was sensational; understated and absolutely believable despite the surreal and incredible role. Steve Pemberton's Tupolski, on the other hand was disappointing - he seems to be one of those actors whose "projection" is just a loud, shouty unnatural delivery.  So the over-all result was "okay". 

A Little Life

Wednesday May 3rd 2023

Present: me; Gill Hunter, Sally Isdale

Thanks (albeit through clenched teeth) go to Clare for my presence on this fateful day. Having bought a ticket, she then proceeded to book a clashing holiday. I was the beneficiary. I use the term loosely!

The promise of James Norton, indeed, rather a lot of James Norton and more than hitherto seen, compelled me to London. A jolly enjoyable dinner was had, and then the play ...

Dismal, torturous, unremittingly bleak. I am baffled on so many levels: that anyone wanted to write it in the first place (if you can create a story from a blank page and give your character any life, why would it be this one?), that anyone would turn it in to a play, that anyone would think "yep, that's a play and a story I think it's worth getting my tackle out for" and that it got a standing ovation at the end.

I am sure the performances were fine but everything else, horrible.