Friday, December 07, 2018

December already.

So far, I continue to manage to avoid pantomimes, including a close shave where I almost got despatched to the Brunton.

This, I considered not a pantomime and The Child was a devoted fan of the films (when she was an actual child rather than a supercilious teenagers). And it was delicious fun as well as being very heart-warming and uplifting. Peculiar homophobia aside. I would like to talk to the writer about this. Cheap gags in such a family show? I'm not sure. 

And then this. My goodness. If you can lay your hands on a horse-loving child, I would almost urge you to trail through to Glasgow to see it. I cried about four times.

Wednesday, November 21, 2018

This week is a salutory lesson in not trying to work full-time and do a show. The theatre call time is 6:30. I've been late both times already this week. It makes my bones want to explode with anxiety. 

Nonetheless, I'm enjoying my costumes. I've been trying to copy and paste me as a nun from the publicity shots without much success but you can find a sneak preview here.

Come see but take care not to blink as you risk missing me. Having said that, the others are all very good so sleeping through my appearances wouldn't detract much from your entertainment. Tickets here (and cheaper than buying on the door!).

Thursday, November 08, 2018

This was wonderful. I shot down to London on Monday for a meeting on Tuesday morning and managed, courtesy of aunt, to squish it in too. 

I love that director Marianne Elliott directed a big sprawling show about a small wooden horse and then directed this tidy and neatly knit musical about a thirty-something singleton.

It's caused some debate in the navel-gazing world of theatre reviewers as Elliott has switched the gender of the protagonist in Sondheim's 1970s musical from a residually single man to a 35 year old single woman. Given the biology involved, some have argued that this isn't really a like for like swap.As a one-time residually single 35 year old, I thought it was ace. The grim relentless horror of being surrounded by couples who can't envisage that you would want to be in anything other than a couple of your own is beautifully captured. 

And the gender switching (she's also made one of the formerly heterosexual couples, gay, with fun and lovely results), for me, only adds a sharp poignancy. Particularly as society - in this land, at least, contiues to see a 35 year old single woman as desperate where a man is desirable.

The summation of the perfection - aside from Rosalie Craig's excellent performance (and what do you know, I also saw her in The Ferryman), a stunningly beautiful set (see pics on the show website) and some totally gorgeous arrangements of Sondheim's lovely score, was a Barbers (apostrophe?) Shop rearrangement of a cracking Sondheim song, You Could Drive A Person Crazy. Just tickety booly lovely.

Time Out write very well about it here.  And much as Michael Billington's opening gambit makes me squirm for its pithiness, so does he (here).

I commend it to you.  

Monday, November 05, 2018

I'm terribly lagging behind here. This was this. Of course I was always going to love it. 

I also loved Cyrano de Bergerac at the Lyceum. Though can I justly say that when I couldn't understand at least a third of it (it was translated into Scots). 

And I'm frantically reading adaptations of scripts. Scripts with a sort of Joan of Arc like flavour. 

Oh, and there's the small matter (hah - literally for me) of this. A Scottish premiere. Which is nae bad, eh? I shall be acting, presuming I can remember how.

Thursday, October 25, 2018

So I seem to have failed to say anything at all about Chicago here. Which is careless as it was magnificent. It took place at Pitlochry Festival Theatre as part of their season and was a stunning example of how smart doubling - and tripling - can make a West End size show practical for a "provincial" (and I use that word with a high dose of salt) stage. 

BS, Siobhan, her daughter and I staggered up in September one Saturday for a sun-soaked day out. The show was all sorts of marvellous. To the extent that I managed to convince Phil (not known to be a musical lover) to drive for one hour from our half term holiday accommodation approximately located near Crieff to attend the show again in its final week. I booked the tickets. My heart sang.

But we'd made a cardinal error. Booking a semi-detached holiday property with loopy neighbours. We were scheduled to attend on the Friday for the matinee. Thursday night, late, pottering the dogs around the garden for a final nightcap as it were, and the neighbours suddenly emerged from the house and started shouting at me (literally) for having tormented them the previous evening with barking. (If I had been less startled, I might have thought of Caliban. But I didn't.)

I stuttered an apology. But it became clear on quiet discussion and reflection (not involving the shouter) subsequently that as the dogs do bark when left unattended, maybe leaving them twice in three days - for a fundamentally non-essential theatre trip - was inconsiderate. 

So I SACRIFICED MYSELF. I don't think I've ever willingly not gone to a show that I eagerly anticipate without exceptional good reason before. It was a strange (middle-class) gut wrenching pain. I stayed with the b%$£*d animals. And Phil and the child enjoyed the show. Luckily they did enjoy the show. While my ticket lingered unsold at the box office. (Ironic given the dull ticket kerfuffle for our first outing.)

An impossible to ignore sign that I have slid at some point into that group which I could never have conceived I would join: the group which is the Dog Lovers. 

Wednesday, October 03, 2018

I was meaner

This doesn't happen very often. 

I'm trying to get better at differentiating between the lower stars.

Friday, September 28, 2018

I saw a show on Wednesday. I'm anxiously waiting for my review to be published. In the meantime, there's this perspective.