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NicholasMember Since 24 Sep 2012
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Posted Nicholas on 29 January 2014 - 12:40 PM
Posted Nicholas on 26 January 2014 - 01:18 AM
Your story, Latecomer, reminds me of when I was at Arturo Ui and sat next to me was Dame Eileen Atkins. We had the most wonderful conversation during the interval, discussing Brecht, new writing and theatre criticism. I felt very lucky!
NO! Wow! Bloody hell! Out of curiosity, how did the conversation come up? Did you turn to her and go “Blimey, you’re only bloody Dame Eileen Atkins, wow!” and she go “Yes, thank you” (or words to that extent) and from that conversation arose, or was it like Latecomer where you just started chatting and then the penny dropped? I think the pair of you have just told the most envy-inducing anecdotes I’ve heard in a long long time.
Posted Nicholas on 21 January 2014 - 11:42 PM
Posted Nicholas on 15 January 2014 - 11:34 AM
Posted Nicholas on 15 January 2014 - 11:26 AM
Oh, and also Guys and Dolls. Please make that happen.
Posted Nicholas on 15 January 2014 - 11:22 AM
Hope exams went well!
Posted Nicholas on 11 January 2014 - 01:34 PM
Being in seats B and C 1, we were both within touching distance of the stage (and during the interval I couldn’t resist) and thus when an actor would enter or leave through the central aisle they’d pass the steps right in front of me (thus the getting hit by costumes which are, as it happens, heavy!). There were a couple of moments when anyone from a lover to a murderer would crouch at the front of the stage and they could have shook my hand, they were directly in front of me, as close to me as was the person in seat C2. There are some other theatres where that's the case but, perhaps the light or the tone or whatever, I felt it here more than I do at Jermyn Street or the Donmar etc. May I ask what seat you’re in? If it says 1 you’ll be directly next to the stage, whichever row, and even if you’re further back you’ll probably feel very close. I can’t imagine anywhere in here won’t feel intimate, but especially the pit.
You mention neckache – C is a higher row than B – A is more central but quite low, D is high so no neck-ache but not central. In fact C’s a great compromise and will be my seat in the future if I get lucky. My brother, in B, did say in the interval his neck ached a bit but it wasn’t serious, I don’t think.
I will be fascinated to see what the very restricted views are like. There’s the pit, the lower gallery and the upper gallery (names might be wrong). The pit is central and oh so intimate but low - not problematically low though. The lower gallery is either facing the stage side-on or facing it centrally but a bit further back. The upper gallery are the same but higher so looking down. I imagine the very restricted views have heads, pillars in the way etc. I do hope you like it today, Mrs Lovett, and I hope you all going later do as well!
I'm rather enjoying the fact that no-one but me's been yet. For one brief glorious moment I'm the authority on something.
Posted Nicholas on 11 January 2014 - 12:45 AM
The mechanisms are astonishing - the way there are windows is truly fascinating, the chandeliers are an absolute asset that make the lighting here, well, it's not often I rhapsodise about lighting mechanisms so... It gets very warm, that must be said, but amazingly for all that fire (if there is such a thing as pyrophobia and you are a sufferer this might be somewhere to avoid) it only gets warm and not hot let alone boiling. The proximity is astounding. Whilst watching the play (more on that later) you would notice a tiny detail of an actor’s face suddenly as a candle would flicker nearby. I assume where-ever you are you are so extraordinarily close it feels, as my brother said, like you are almost actually within the action. I felt there was something almost cinematic about the way teeny details were, thanks to the proximity, magnified – you could focus on a face like a close-up, you could look at the whole stage like a wide shot (which you obviously can elsewhere, but far more intently here). I can tell you whether or not Gemma Arterton or James Garnon have fillings. As actors passed me their costumes hit me. The marks teardrops left in the make-up were highlighted. I have made prolonged eye-contact with twenty or so new people, which I haven’t when I’ve been in the front row of the Donmar or the Young Vic or other intimate buildings. It was like nothing else. So as a space for theatre, especially intense tragedy, it is brilliant.
But mainly, as a piece of architecture, it is a piece of art. The wood is beautiful, it is new, it is astounding. The painting, the details like that, are like the Globe but even more beautiful. Though this is an opinion I know others vehemently disagree with, the Globe always was one of my favourite theatres – I feel that the mindset I am in upon sitting down in the Apollo or the National or the Royal Shakespeare Theatre or the Jermyn Street theatre is always roughly the same detachment from reality and focus on and belief in the theatrics, whilst the mindset I am in upon entering the Globe is almost like getting into a character and that amplifies and changes the play I watch, whatever that may be. And I felt that upon sitting down here. If this is an extension of the Globe, it makes the Globe even more wonderful in my eyes. It is a thing of art. Wow.
Posted Nicholas on 09 January 2014 - 06:09 PM
Posted Nicholas on 01 January 2014 - 10:51 PM
Will this inconsiderate behaviour ever stop?
Haha! Was going to put the exact same thing myself, damnit! I can't believe Mark Gatiss wrote a script that condoned that sort of behaviour! If and when I see Coriolanus I might phone my brother up midway through one of his big speeches and show him what's what...
Posted Nicholas on 01 January 2014 - 02:51 PM
Posted Nicholas on 01 January 2014 - 02:49 PM
From Wikipedia: “The most famous Coriolanus in history is Laurence Olivier, who first played the part triumphantly at the Old Vic Theatre in 1937 and returned to it to even greater acclaim at the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre in 1959. In that production, he famously performed Coriolanus's death scene by dropping backwards from a high platform and being suspended upside-down (without the aid of wires), a death reminiscent of Mussolini's.”
http://hollowcrownfa...in-a-death-leap - a rather fascinating picture.
And if we’re talking about theatrical hangings, Matt Smith in American Psycho in those tight underwear seemed pretty well hung.
Posted Nicholas on 29 December 2013 - 03:18 AM
Lucky you. This board’s only got me laid figuratively.
Posted Nicholas on 26 December 2013 - 01:18 PM
- At one, it’s A Doll’s House. The greatest show I’ve ever seen. Twice.
- At two, in any other year number one, Old Times. That small idea of the swap added so much and means that on top of all the really troubling ideas Pinter raises Rickson adds something about performance and really enhances the confusion. Still haunting.
- At joint three, it’s The Scottsboro Boys. I still can’t articulate how I feel, it’s a mess of contradictions. But I still think about it happily whistling the songs and unhappily puzzling its ideas. I’ll never get this out of my head.
- And As You Like It, because I loved it and fell in love with everyone in it and have also listened to the CD about a hundred times.
Sadly, though for my money the top shows have been extraordinary (so many omissions!), the worst shows have been BAAAAAAD. I’ll keep it to a bottom three, as though I’ve seen bad things I’ve only seen three I found offensively bad.
- Worst, maybe the worst thing I’ve ever seen, American Lulu. Every aspect of this, from it being missold as a jazz reworking to its awful libretto to wooden performances to staging that looked cheap to a terrible working of the source material, was absolute shite upon shite. Not walking out of this shows I wouldn't crack under torture. It’s amazing that my best and worst shows (possibly ever, for both) were on the same stage.
- Peter and Alice. Terribly written – nothing but audiobooks of biographies. For my money the argument was “If you have an asexual pedologist adopt you after your two parents die before you turn eight, then one brother dies in a war whilst another is led to suicide, all before you turn twenty, you might be psychologically scarred. If a chaste paedophile takes a few photos of you then leaves you’ll be less so” – not that profound, certainly doesn’t need 90 minutes. AND BORING.
- A lovely adage – if you throw enough poo at a wall some will stick. Think of The Master and Margarita – a mishmash of styles and ideas, of anachronisms and recreations, of old and new, and how extraordinary that was – the best show of 2012, confirmed with hindsight. Alternatively, you’ll be left with a steaming pile of poo. Think of Edward II.
Posted Nicholas on 20 December 2013 - 01:39 AM
I love Harry Potter, genuinely absolutely love, and would happily see a stage version. This, however, seems like the least interesting point of anyone’s life in the story. As Harry’s wizardry doesn’t come from his upbringing but his genetics it can’t set up his story and thus it’s just a tale we’ve all seen a hundred times already of bullied boy eventually comes up good. This whole idea’s nothing new, of course – there was a Doctor Who play during, I think, the third Doctor’s time, there were adaptations of Dickens before the serialisations were completed and arguably this is just a more populist version of what the RSC are doing with Hilary Mantel. I reckon Harry Potter the play would be wonderful, if only for the staging, if done right. But Harry Potter: The Early Years?
Edit: I was just thinking of who could be in it and do it, and idly and idealistically I thought "Complicite would do one hell of a job - think what they'd do with the magic (and McBurney had a small part in the film)!". But then I thought "But the story's just a kid gets bullied in school before chance takes him elsewhere!" This part of the story's a footnote, and the half a chapter it occupies in the books is enough before we find the real story of a character's growth, of a great adventure and all that (don't scoff, some of us like it). I'm not sure a ) why it warrants two and a half hours of being staged and b ) what it'll add to the Harry Potter mythology. But I look forwards to either being corrected or at least reminded that prejudgement is a cardinal sin. We've got over a year, anyway, to see how this all develops.