Thursday night we went to Trafalgar Studios to see The Hothouse by Harold Pinter. The pace was impressive and the set design well-done, definitely in line with the time period during which this play was written. Written, but not staged. Turns out Pinter didn't feel comfortable with it being set up until 21 years had passed, so the first production took place in 1979.

I had gone in there with no prejudice and no expectations other than that we were about to see a great cast in action. The marketing led me to believe this was a play starring only two people, but in these days of commercial theatre they always market whatever stars they can muster; in this case Simon Russell Beale and John Simm. Geeks will be pleased to know that out of the seven-strong cast, there were three Doctor Who guest actors and one from the Harry Potter films (and, as an added bonus just for my friend and I, we were sitting right behind no less than River Song herself). Having no knowledge of the play, I didn't know whether it was supposed to be a comedy or a drama. I soon got that question answered, when the first laughs spread across the auditorium. I would call it an uneasy comedy, though; torture is most definitely a dark subject matter to make funny, but the acting and directing were superb and the comedy timing so good that you wouldn't be able to stay straight-faced for long even if you wanted to. The sound and lighting designs were excellent; on more than one occasion did they make us jump in our seats.

Now to the tastiest morsel of the lot. During the Q&A after the show (arranged by Whatsonstage in this case, but there are going to be several Q&A sessions throughout the run), we learnt something very interesting about Pinter. Jamie Lloyd, the director, had been working with Pinter himself on a few occasions and had actually been discussing the infamous "Pinter pause" with him, about which the playwright said "bollocks to the pause". It turns out that one of his most treasured/revered/fear-inducing trademarks came to life out of necessity. When Pinter was young, he would appear in repertory theatre, and to make it easier for everyone to learn the text quickly he clearly marked pauses in the script. Basically, they're not really needed and he never meant them to be that profound, either. In the current production of The Hothouse, they've managed to cut down the running time by as much as 45 minutes, partly because of the frantic pace in many places (it does sound a bit like radio dramas from the 40s and 50s), partly because they got rid of many of the Pinter pauses. Personally, I think that information is worthy of a mention on QI, don't you?

Labels: name-dropping, pinter, theatre

Just a quick post to say I loved Nation at the National Theatre yesterday. If you have some kind of imagination, you should go see it (and you may get some very cheap tickets; ours were five pounds a piece). It is based on a novel by Terry Pratchett, which is a good start in itself. It was funny, dramatic and a bit sad.

We also had a nice meal at Pizza Express before the show (yeah, I know, but we're not exactly rich); we've been there before and the food is nice, but the restaurant itself is very noisy. Still, with a 2-for-1 voucher (I do feel a bit cheap now) it was definitely worth it.

Watching Animal 24/7 and feeling very aggressive towards people (and I use the term loosely) who mistreat animals. I think I'll need to watch a few more episode of classic Doctor Who soon (courtesy of SeeSaw) to get back to my normal self. Have actually watched a lot of Doctor Who lately; mostly the David Tennant episodes, but also some of the older ones. The eps over Christmas were devastating, even for someone who's only seen one whole series previously. I don't envy Matt Smith when he takes over as the eleventh Doctor (or is it, in fact, the 17th Doctor?) over Easter.

Labels: theatre, TV

I've been to Comedians at the Lyric Hammersmith twice so far, and have two more perfomances to see. I first went to the third preview, on the 9th of October, which was a Friday. Let me just say there was a big difference between that performance and the next I went to, which was last Monday. People were drinking on Friday, you see. The Monday audience was...slightly boring. Dead, in places. Not literally, of course--that would have been creepy. Even though there was a slight chance we might all have been dead by the end of the night, as the fire alarm went off at the end of the third act, through which four-minute blaring Matthew Kelly was the complete professional and went on with his semi-monologue without blinking. But I digress.

I didn't notice much difference in the performances, but certainly the audience has a lot to say when it comes to this play. In short, the story is about six budding/hopeful comedians trying out their material in a local Northern worker's club. Before and after this gig we meet them in the classroom where they've been taught and even groomed by The Lancashire Lad (played by the aforementioned Matthew Kelly) in the evenings. They all have different acts, but one of them, Gethin Price (played by David Dawson, in a role originated by the brilliant Jonathan Pryce--and I'm sure Dawson's tired of being compared to him, but hey, that's the way the cookie crumbles), is even more different... When it comes to the audience, I actually assume some heckling would be welcome (and I don't just say that because of Keith Allen's utterings during The One Show a couple of weeks back--I've witnessed the difference between a heckled and a heckle-free performance...so to speak). On the Friday there was a rather intoxicated gentleman at the back of the auditorium who got some great replies from the actors on stage (especially Michael Dylan, who plays Mick Connor and is first up on stage during The Gig). There was no such patron on the Monday (at some point I was afraid I was the only one there and only imagined seeing other people around me so as to soften the shock). I feel I should apologise for being part of an audience lacking in the 'oomph' department. It must be said that I had been working flat out for six days at that time and wasn't very animated, myself. Nor bothered. Shame, really. On the inside I was laughing, it has to be said.

The play, written by Trevor Griffiths, was first performed in 1975, and has not been altered in any way (as far as I know) for this run 34 years later. The jokes are contemperary and you may shamefully find yourself laughing at jokes that are both racist, degrading to women and basically testing your tolerance. The worst part is when you discover you quite like the silliest jokes of the lot, where you could see the punchline coming from a mile away. At the same time, this being performed at the theatre and not supposed to be a genuine stand-up act, you may find that you try to humour the actors themselves by laughing at jokes that aren't really funny at all. Or perhaps that's just me?

In order to introduce the lot, there's Mick Connor, already mentioned, who's an Irishman and plays off his heritage. Then there's Sammy Samuels (Simon Kunz), who plays off the fact he's a Jew, and George McBrain (Billy Carter), who comes from Belfast and works on the docks. The two brothers Phil and Ged Murray (Reece Shearsmith and Mark Benton--and I have to admit I keep thinking I would like to see a second series of Catterick when I see them together) are trying out their double act in public for the first time, and teacher's pet Gethin Price has changed his act at the last minute; much to everyone's surprise.

Now, the first time around I wasn't too impressed by David Dawson's portrayal of Price (sorry, David), but then again I had no idea what to expect and merely assumed he was exaggerating everything. The part grew on me, however, and I have a feeling I may do a 270, if not a 360, by the end of my fourth and last visit. My hat's off to him for doing a whole routine without much, if any, feedback from the audience! (Technically, of course, silence is a sort of feedback as well. As long as you know there are people out there watching you and listening to what you're saying.)

I've read the reviews and seen that most give the production a three out of five, but I sense that despite my strong bias (Matthew Kelly, Reece Shearsmith, Mark Benton, Paul Rider and Keith Allen) I would like to give it four out of five. When you get into it and the reasons behind the characters' behaviour, you may feel the same way I do.

One last note; strangely enough (although not too strangely, for those of us who always have a tendency to focus on the "supporting artists" anyway), Paul Rider's caretaker/concert secretary and Kulvinder Ghir's Mr. Patel (and that's no euphemism) threaten to take over the show. All in all a strong cast!

Two silly notes: Matthew Kelly is really tall, and Reece Shearsmith and David Dawson are the only ones who look grumpy and like they really would like to be somewhere else while taking their bows. Personally, I would only look like that because I would be terrified of going on stage in the first place...

Labels: comedy, reece shearsmith, theatre

Indeed. Went to the matinée of La Cage aux Folles today. My last visit. At least that's what I thought, until the end where I just knew I have to see it again. Unfortunately, the ticket system on the ATG website is pretty dire and simply doesn't want my fifty-five pounds, so it can fuck off. Anyhoo, I was very pleased to not notice anything particularly less energetic in their performance today as opposed to any of the...eight evening performances I have seen, which was a BIG plus! Lots of OAPs there, though, so they got more response than usual when The Best of Times came on (read: Sing-along time!)

Just need to utter a Happy Birthday to Reece Shearsmith (according to Wikipedia, which has been known to make up things in the past)--was just looking for info on Catterick when I stumbled upon his page. Yes, I am finally watching Catterick. At first I couldn't understand why I hadn't until now, but then it hit me; it first aired in 2004, when I hadn't quite moved to the UK yet, and then by the time the Scandie channels would have been able to afford importing it, I had moved to the UK and forgotten all about it. So far, two episodes in, it's great fun. And yes, it was brought on by the return of Shooting Stars yesterday. (I am usually very pleased with my Amazon Prime membership...next day delivery FTW!) (Although today they delivered only Catterick, which was dispatched after the two items I ordered the night before...it's the luck of the draw, I guess.)

In other news, I think a Nurofen capsule dissolved in a rather unfortunate manner earlier today due to the lack of readily available water, and my throat is now burning every time I swallow. Nice.

Labels: comedy, league of gentlemen, musicals, online shopping, personal, philip quast, roger allam, technology, theatre

Another depressing documentary from Louis Theroux tonight; this time about crystal meth abusers. I wonder what on earth makes people think it's cool to take drugs when we've known for decades how they affect you and the people around you (before people start bashing me; I know the people in that documentary had some 'interesting' personal histories which quite probably played a big part in their addiction). Also, after more than a decade of eye-opening documentaries 'on the edge', I think Mr. Theroux should be awarded a KBE for not bitch-slapping any of his interviewees. In fact, he may be on drugs himself. Valium, most probably.

I think tomorrow's Panorama may be interesting, as may Tuesday's documentary about an autistic guy (on BBC3, I believe).

Yesterday we went to see Billy Elliot - the dancers were good, but damn! It lasted too long. I mean, how on earth did they manage to make that rather straightforward and not-very-fleshy story drag out for nearly three hours? Our seats may have had something to do with it, though; we were in the Grand Circle and quite obviously being punished for not buying tickets sooner. We were really cramped. Literally. I have rather long legs, and they were not happy.

Today, having a day off, I started re-watching The League of Gentlemen, this time with the commentary track on (I am sensing a repeat of what I went through with Red Dwarf--which classic comedy-series-missed-by-me-the-first-time-round comes next, I wonder?) I have started fancying myself as a comedy writer. Yes, you may laugh. Actually, please do.

Well, enough of that nonsense; back to The Last Remnant (game) before watching the last bit of Shaun of the Dead (a film I have seen five times...soon).

Labels: comedy, gaming, league of gentlemen, musicals, red dwarf, theatre, TV

Thank you for making it such a great show. The audience were really getting into it, and the performers clearly fed off of that energy. It was the best performance I have seen to date (it was my 18th La Cage visit overall), and I was thrilled to be part of a standing ovation (with the mandatory bruised hand from all the applauding, of course). More, more! Well, there won't be much more for me, as I only have one ticket left for this run (I am going to avoid Burke/Barrowman--I believe I am way too biased to find any other pairing than Quast/Allam remotely interesting from now on (apart from Quast/Storhøi, but the likelihood of that happening is on par with my becoming an astronaut and colonising another planet all on my own))--this ticket is for a matinée towards the end of the run, so I'm worried they won't all be there etc. Such a let-down that would be (no offense to the rest of the cast; it's just that by the 19th time it's no longer the play I come to see, to be honest), and it's happened before. Oh, well.

I was sitting behind Graham Norton yesterday and had to restrain myself so that I wouldn't poke him in the back and whisper 'now don't you start booing and hissing every time Allam's on' (to the uninitiated: He played Albin/Zaza earlier in the year). He laughed a lot, though, so clearly enjoying the performance, like the rest of us mere mortals.

Oh, and to the poor lady sitting next to me: 1. Sorry for leaning on you (but that's what happens when you don't participate), and 2. when I looked at you just as I got up for the standing ovation, I did NOT glare at you because you didn't get up, only checking I wasn't standing on anyone's bags.

To the nice New Zealanders on the other side of me: Thanks for getting into the spirit of things by the second act so I didn't feel like such a loser for being perhaps a tad too involved, and thanks for immediately joining me during the standing ovation, even though you weren't very mobile.

And to the guy sitting behind me: The girl you came with may have sounded impressed and in awe of everything you said, but the rest of us thought you behaved like a twat with all your pathetic name-dropping. We don't CARE if you're a stage hand at some touring company and may have almost met a few big names.

I think that should have covered everyone sitting around me yesterday. Let's do it again some time.

I did get a surprise later on, though; I had been sure there must have been a contingent of avid Allam fans in the audience (due to some excessive applauding at times), and yet we were basically on our own by the stage door afterwards. Perhaps they had a train to catch. Or some pensioners to mug. As you know, Allam fans are rough. In the same way fans of Chuck Norris are mainly effeminate men.

Hopefully this will be my only post featuring Chuck Norris.

Labels: musicals, name-dropping, philip quast, roger allam, theatre

Sorry for not having updated in a very long while. Reason? Lack of sleep (annoying new neighbour with a powerful stereo and ASBO friends, need I say more?), a very long shift at work (two weeks, basically) and the release of The Sims 3.

When I say I worked for two weeks straight, that is actually a lie, since I worked eight days, had one day off and then worked four. Still, very straining when you don't get any sleep at all due to your fucking neighbour. And one third of that day off was spent at the theatre having a bloody headache. Don't know what it is, but somehow I always manage to get a blinding headache while in the theatre, no matter what I do to prevent it. The play was miraculously fun, though. What am I saying? It was La Cage. You may kill me now. I've seen it...umpteen times. I've actually lost count. 17 times as a minimum (including Oslo). Once more and I've definitely seen PQ as many times as Dennis in that musical.

Pathetic.

Anyway, so The Sims 3 was released. It's as annoying as the previous instalments, to be honest. You just cannot put it away, yet it's a complete waste of your life. Love the new integrated neighbourhood, though; huge improvement. Also the fact you, in effect, decide what they do while at work or in school. Wonder how many expansion packs they'll release, seeing as this incorporates so many of the previous packs already?

Today saw the long-awaited release of Red Dwarf: Back to Earth DVD (well, 'long-awaited' if you're very impatient) and I devoured it all from about 10am to 1pm. Gave up on the easter egg and just launched the DVD in VLC instead because it allows you to look through the DVD title by title (something you should already know if you're a slightly neurotic geek like myself). Finally found it. As per usual, a bit of an anti-climax. Still, the DVD was packed like the rest. Of the DVDs, I mean. Ooh, err!

So that got me back in Chris Barrie mode/mood, which was just as well as I've had really boring dreams about Roger Allam for the past two nights (blame seeing him by the stage door last week--I'm such a wanker (not in the literal sense...well, not when it comes to this, at least :p )).

And I did the most typical thing yesterday. Now, if you don't follow me on Twitter (and you should--not that it's interesting, but that's where I post most of my random thoughts these days), you wouldn't know much about my new neighbour. To cut a long and irritating story short, he's a pothead who's prolly just moved out and wants to party all night. Fair enough, apart from the fact sound carries really well in this building. He's kept me awake most nights for a fortnight. Until you've experienced that yourself, you won't know what sleep deprivation does to you--how desperate it makes you. Let's just say I've fantasised about murdering him with my IKEA knives. No, I don't think I'd actually do that, but I wouldn't have ruled me out straight away if he were discovered in a pool of his own blood in the foreseeable future. ANYWAY. He knocked on our door yesterday. Keep in mind I want to kill him, right? He asks me if I have some oil he could borrow. I, for some reason, inquiry as to the nature of this oil--of the olive kind, perhaps? He nods. I go get the rest of my olive oil and hand it to him. WHY do I do this? Because, most probably, in The Sims 3, my character would have the trait 'Good'. And possibly 'Coward'.

That's it for today. Was supposed to be just an apology, but then I got all riled up from having watched 'Supersizers' from the 80s for no particular reason (other than their opulence and close proximity in time to myself) and felt I had to post something a little more fleshy. Apparently.

Fave song in the charts: 'In the Heat of the Night' (Star Pilots). The PSN Store launched their own 'Vidzone' the other day and that brought back memories...isn't Michael Jackson's 'Remember the Time' as well as Annie Lennox's 'Walking on Broken Glass' just effing brilliant? No? Well, what on Io (Red Dwarf and RIMMER (SO wrong if you've watched a lot of Queer as Folk) are back, dammit!) are you visiting this blog for? We clearly have little in common. Sex, perhaps, but nothing else.

Labels: chris barrie, film, gaming, music, musicals, personal, philip quast, red dwarf, roger allam, theatre, TV

Why do we need ushers? Apart from keeping struggling, young actors in employment, of course. The other day, at La Cage again (probably more on that at a later point), I approached one of the said ushers with my ticket, like I normally do. She was being very cheerful and polite, and said 'you're in seat nine, madam, on the third row'. I said thank you and went to find my seat.

OK, so what just happened?

1. I approached the usher. I always do this. I think it's my way of being polite, because I know perfectly well where I'm seated. It's not rocket science. Maybe I feel sorry for them, standing there by the door like wallflowers.
2. I looked confused. WHY? I mean...just WHY? What a ridiculous thing to do. I approach the usher with an apologetic smile, looking like I have just landed on this planet and want my mummy. I show them my ticket, which I have just managed to read about three times within the last minute all on my own, and want some kind of help. Just to be nice. It's like saying 'I'm an idiot and need assistance. See me wee(p) if you don't help RIGHT NOW.'
3. She called me 'madam'. At some point during the first year that I lived over here in the UK, people went from calling me 'miss' to 'madam'. I hadn't done anything differently, I think, but it happened. I want to blame the stress surrounding the move, which after all gave me my first white strands of hair. (Yet at the same time I sometimes still have to show people my ID when buying alcohol.)
4. The usher read my ticket to me. Let me stress that.

She. Just. Read. It. To. Me.

And then I thanked her for stating the obvious. Because, after all, I am a silly customer who has managed to book and pay for the ticket, dress herself, get on the right tube, find the right street and even find the right theatre and entrance, only to fall at the last hurdle, slowly losing sight of the coveted gold medal.

What utter nonsense.

Labels: humour, musicals, personal, theatre

It's interesting to see that my reviews completely clashed with another's blog review - just goes to show how different we all are. Still, seems I'm not alone in thinking Allam was excellent, as most professional reviews since the press night have been more or less raving.

Just thought I ought to actually name a few more of the performers. After all, I have been calling the Cagelles just that since 2007, which is very unfair. So here goes, the cast list:

Roger Allam as Bert
Philip Quast as Ernie
Stuart Neal as their son
Alicia Davies as his fiancée
Jason Pennycooke as their maid, even though they hired a butler
Iain Mitchell as M. Ding-Dong
Abigail McKern as Mme. Ding-Dong
Tracie Bennett as the Diva Restaurateur next-door
Adrian der Gregorian as the Masochist
Nicholas Cunningham as the Sadist
Nolan Frederick, Ben Bunce, Gary Murphy, Darren Carnall, Dane Quixall, Ben Deery, Leanne Harwood, Robert Maskell, Duncan Smith, Matt Krzan, Zoë Ann Bown and Scott Spreadbury bring up the rather lovely and enticing rear.

It's a fun family day out! If you have a slightly pervy and/or open-minded family.

Book and stuff here. (I'd recommend booking before stuffing.)

Labels: musicals, philip quast, roger allam, theatre

Must be the 15th time or so that I see that show. I need a proper tattoo parlour and a proper account balance so I can get that lovely, little tattoo showing my love for La Cage aux Folles that I've been dreaming of for years. It's massive.

Anyway. Proper review for the May 13 performance. Well, as proper as I can make it.

First things first, I believe Duncan Smith stood in as Tabarro instead of Robert Maskell. Other than that they were all there. Especially the Cagelles, they were very much there. In my opinion they have certainly benefited from the move from the Menier (even though it pains me to admit it, it was actually even better at the Playhouse Theatre, which of course is a good thing, considering the excellent Menier production); they now have more room to play in, and they have grown into the roles to such a degree that they are definitely acting more now (not 'just' dancing--and before anyone hits me over the head; their dancing and acrobatics have always been nothing short of amazing). They've basically become more bitchy, something I find adds to the whole story.

Speaking of dancing, by the way; what on Io happened to Philip Quast since we last saw him? Perhaps the larger stage has done him wonders as well, because I was pleasantly surprised at his moves. Elegant, at times flamboyantly so, I would say. Especially the double back-flip which received a standing ovation. OK, I lie. But I'm certain I'm not dilly-dallying far from the truth if I say I think people would have given him a standing ovation had he done a double back-flip. Followed by a hurried search for a chiropractor in the house. But I digress (should be written on my headstone).

Right, now for the Change of the Decade. Well, the change from Graham Norton and Stephen Pacey to the surprising duo of Roger Allam and Philip Quast, respectively. 'Surprising' mostly from a personal perspective, perhaps, as I never thought I'd be able, nay allowed to see them perform on stage together. After yesterday's performance this will go down as my favourite version of my favourite musical. It couldn't possibly get any better than this, could it? If so, I dare not go see it, as I prefer my heart to be whole and in working order.

Some of us get a little carried away at the theatre, but we're usually calm and collected elsewhere.

This time around the Georges/Albin story seemed more real; I was going to say I believed they were partners, but that would have been a fib (or 'wishful thinking' as some of my slash-loving acquaintances would point out). Of course I didn't. But by Gog, they were so much more compatible than any of the previous pairings I have witnessed.

And here comes the clinch, the whole reason for you to go see the show if you have been the least bit half-on, half-off the fence up till now: They've cast an actor to play Albin. I know how that sounds, but wait for it. You see, the part of Albin is a very emotional one; he's a drama queen, ok, but it's all a façade--he's a vulnerable man who is both overly effeminate and as such should leave no doubt in anyone's mind about his sexuality, and yet so far back into the closet I have a feeling he sometimes has tea with Aslan. All brought on by society, as per usual. (How long have poets, playwrights and even screenwriters been writing about the struggle for freedom from the firm grasp of society? Digression again, sorry.) So the role of Albin cannot--well, shouldn't--be filled by someone who is just one thing, someone who cannot cope with both the out-and-out flamboyancy and the defencelessness which, after all, are two extremes switched between at increasingly fast intervals during the play. I was swept away by Allam's acting and for the first time, in 15 performances, felt that Albin really was Jean-Michel's maman.

(Of course, this means that I am dissing Dennis Storhøi. I may have to lie down and die. At least repent.)

If anyone thinks I'm saying Philip Quast isn't an actor, they should probably read the whole thing again and pay attention this time. I'm probably saying that everyone who's played Albin so far hasn't been an actor, so bring on the insults; I don't care. (I think it's been known for a while that I wasn't a fan Douglas Hodge's interpretation...)

Now then, now then, now then. For the slightly more personal and short review:

It's brilliant! Buy tickets now or lose out on something spectacular! Truly! This cast should be there all through summer (please consider holidays, days off sick etc.--annoying, I know, but it turns out they're actually...shh, don't tell anyone...real people! Who'd've thunk?), until Aug 26, but don't hold me responsible if they're not. Write to your local MP instead. I want you all to be more politically active.

And fabulous hair! PQ no longer looks like my uncle. He now looks like a Clubland version of my uncle. Urgh. Oh yeah, and I caught one of the roses and stole it thought 'finders keepers'. Currently starting to collect dust with all my other theatre memorabilia. I have tickets for two more performances (so far) because I thought 'hey, I think this may be the best version ever and I have a Mastercard!' Hopefully I won't try and beat my ten performances in five months record from Oslo 2004...that'll be a bit expensive (and stalkerish). Not to mention pathetic--I have to keep chanting 'it's just a play, it's just a play'.

Well, I hear there's a Eurovision Song Contest semi final I have to cast my vote in tonight, so got to go!

Labels: dennis storhøi, music, musicals, personal, philip quast, roger allam, theatre, TV

Had another weird dream last night, just remembered it and cringed a little bit.

I was backstage at the theatre where they are currently performing La Cage aux Folles. It was the opening night for Roger Allam and Philip Quast; very topical in other words, as that actually happened yesterday evening. There were a lot of giggly fangirls there (I think this was brought on by having seen lots of giggly fangirls (and -boys) at the Comedy Store on Sunday; Allam/Quast don't usually have giggly fans); most of whom were about 18-20 years of age. I sat down in the corner, where the fan club president and vice president were sitting. To my knowledge, neither have an official fan club. Anyway, I thought I was safe there; I would just sit and watch for a bit and then go home, as I didn't have a ticket. The theatre was built in such a way that there was a huge panorama window facing the auditorium, so basically anyone could see the show for free, if they didn't mind being about three storeys higher than the stage.

Apparently, the two guys had agreed with the fan club that they'd stop by before the show, so they approached our little corner. Since I was sitting there, I guess they thought they should humour me as well. I was, however, trying to ignore them by reading my book. Allam would have none of that, however. He stood before me and stared at me until I put the book away, then sneered a 'and which year are you in?' I was perplexed. I tried to explain that in fact I was 31 and couldn't possibly be taken for anything below 25, but he insisted I was a pupil and should be treated as such. Quast took one look at me and then ignored me completely. Evidently, they both loathed me and I felt belittled in my own dream, so quickly left.

I am guessing this is my way of telling myself something I'm already aware of; that I'm afraid of seeming desperately stalky, but then apart from the occasional 'ok, it's slightly freakish that you turn up for a charity gig way beyond your price range' I'm not actually stalkerish in any way. Hmm...I think. Unless they're extremely wary of having people go see their show twice in as many months. Oh deary me. In that case, it's their problem. ;-)

The dream was fun, though. I mean, I've never thought of any of them as being complete bastards towards their fans (rather the opposite), so clearly this was just a figment of my imagination gone haywire.

Labels: dreams, greg proops, musicals, personal, philip quast, roger allam, theatre

I just watched Blithe Spirit, wondering why that 'eccentric medium' looked so familiar. Margaret Rutherford. Miss Marple and a lot of great character in a string of Ealing comedies. Duh.

I've also watched Brubaker and Godzilla today. Had a backlog of films I had to watch, you see. Yesterday it was The Blues Brothers (yawn; third time still not very funny or interesting) and Ice Age 2.

Also went to the Comedy Store yesterday; the crowd wasn't very enthusiastic, it seemed, so we were giving the performers a difficult time, but they handled it well and the second part, as always, was very enjoyable indeed. Richard Vranch's Swedish was so horribly Russian we were quite annoyed, but Lee Simpson, Andy Smart and Greg Proops made up for it. Neil Mullarkey was incredibly funny as the slightly miffed (read: blood-thirstily vengeful) gardener in their gothic horror musical "The Smallest Fish on Earth", and Stephen Frost was very good at guessing his job as "the guy who cleans the inside of the Tardis using the rigging of ships inside bottles every Monday, at Ladbrokes in Egypt, wearing only pants". All in all a great night out. Even though we spent the first two and a half hours of waiting for the show to start, bitching about how annoying the queueing system at the Comedy Store is. It basically prevents us from bothering going to see other shows there. I actually have other things to do than standing in line.

Things change as soon as Greg's in town, though. ;-)

Well, I've been itching to play Crysis all weekend, but have been preoccupied with reading The Book Thief. Two-thirds through it I think I'll give it a miss today.

Break a leg for the New Boys in Town* tonight. Will be seeing them next week, fingers crossed!

*) Roger Allam and Philip Quast taking over in La Cage aux Folles.

Labels: comedy, film, greg proops, hank azaria, literature, musicals, philip quast, roger allam, theatre

Right. I had another two-part dream last night. First off was my CIA initiation test. I didn't know it at the time, but the CIA had sent two retired agents (as in 'retired about 20 years ago') to follow me around as I went elk and/or grouse hunting with Victoria Beckham (I never EVER thought I'd ever mention that name on my blog), from here on in simply called Posh. She wasn't too keen on going hunting (and neither should I have been, as I reckon hunting as a sport is vile), so I guess it was just as well that the Jeep I had borrowed from Chris Barrie (I watched him driving around in a military Jeep on Massive Speed before going to bed) had just about 400 different locks; it took me so long to get into the car it had gone dark by the time I was sat behind the wheel. Posh told me not to worry, as she had a magical bottle which was "simply amazing". You see, when you filled it with water, and here was the clever part, it magically became full of water. She was grinning so proudly I didn't have the heart to tell her she was being incredibly stupid and should go away and rot somewhere.

Anyway, after our rather failed hunting trip, I never really figured out whether I'd got the CIA job as a freelance agent, as I was whisked off to ITV to watch another Parky chat show as a member of the audience. Memory lapse there, clearly, as he had his last chat show some time ago, but hey ho. There I witnessed real magic, as Philip Quast was one of the interviewees, and John Barrowman another. They were reminiscing back to the eighties (don't know why, as they didn't work together until The Fix in the mid-to-late nineties), and then Parky started reminiscing about the sixties, getting a blank stare from everybody, before John leapt into PQ's lap and started singing very, VERY loudly. It was all slightly horrible and cringing to watch, and even more cringing when I woke up and realised it all came from my mind.

I am, clearly, looking forward to La Cage, though. Again. This time with added Roger Allam, currently seen in Ashes to Ashes (yesterday seen a bit too much, perhaps, in that series? I leave it up to personal taste and inclination to decide, hehe!), and I believe he is appearing in another series in a bit; don't quite remember what it was, but something fantasy- or sci-fi-themed, I seem to remember. Big project. Prolly the Beeb. Ah, who cares, something or other I'm bound to watch, at least.

I still cannot believe I missed Allam in Privates on Parade - only one of my favourite musicals. Grrr.

Labels: dreams, musicals, personal, philip quast, roger allam, theatre

No big surprises there, really. Didn't agree with all of them, but none of them were totally outrageous. What was outrageous, however, was the terrible editing during the Fellowship award, and I really hope that the Beeb or the BAFTAs will be providing the great public with the whole acceptance speech.

I also learned that Claude Berri died sometime last year. There's always at least one "oh, is he dead?" and one "oh, I forgot he had died last year" and also at least one "I thought he died years ago" during the In Memoriam sequence.

Oh yes, and Mick Jagger turned out to be very funny! And it's good to know Robert Downey, jr. is in town at the moment.

Another thing that was proven once and for all, was the rather vast gap between trained stage actors and those who happened to find themselves in front of a camera in Hollywood at some point after someone shouted 'action!'; Jason Isaacs had clearly learnt the script and managed to actually look at people, not just the teleprompter, and also delivered it with feeling. Patrick Stewart and Sir Ian McKellen (yes, soon appearing in Waiting for Godot, which some of us knew very well before they mentioned it tonight) were of course equally well-versed at appearing in front of a large audience. Most of the others seemed nervous and wooden, really. Yes, I am probably picky. Or even an elitist when it comes to acting. Oh, no.

No Marton Csokas this year, though. Guess he's not "dating" anyone who was nominated...

Labels: film, jason isaacs, marton csokas, Monty Python, theatre

Liz Smith and Michael Sheen receive an MBE and an OBE, respectively. Brilliant!

Labels: film, theatre, TV

One of the best playwrights of the past 50 years (or ever, really) has died. Of course, this makes me want to read through all my Pinter plays again.

Labels: theatre

Everybody now: Mwahahahahaaah! The rebel in me quite enjoyed reading about Spore being 2008's most pirated game, as EA's rather brutal copy-protection system is very unfair on those of us who actually buy games. When I buy a game I want to be able to reinstall it as many times as I'd like. Sometimes, you see, I like to upgrade my computer, upgrade my operating system and reinstall my older games. But no can do with Spore. Three times is the maximum. This isn't doing EA any favours, but of course, they don't care as they're almost running a monopoly now. Thus the reports of pirates getting their own back are like sweet music to my ears.

Ooh, speaking of music...we went to Christmas in New York on the 7th. It was supposed to be...err...a celebration of...I dunno, really. To be honest it was so cheap and tacky and ludicrous I'm not going to spend more time thinking about it.

I will, however, have to mention La Cage aux Folles again. It moved to the West End earlier this year and has received raving reviews. As much as I love Denis Lawson, it should have been Philip Quast, and so I can't be bothered to go see it on the big stage. I did nevertheless see the excerpts at the Royal Variety Performance on telly last Wednesday, and...hmm...is it just me, or did they just do the show a disservice? OK, so Douglas Hodge belting out the show-stopping number I Am What I Am was good, but the dancing...well, in my opinion they just shouldn't have brought that rather noisy sequence with them. It's great in the show, but taken out of context, it may just seem whimsy. Plus, I miss Spencer Stafford.

OK, enough ranting for today.

Labels: gaming, musicals, philip quast, theatre

First of all, wouldn't this pairing be like the ultimate experience for any theatre-stroke-X-men-fan? Swoon.

Fallout 3 arrived by post yesterday, one day ahead of its UK release, and so I installed it while hurrying through the vast mountain of dishes which had mysteriously gathered during the past two days only (note to self: buy dishwasher ASAP). The game itself was like the Fallout series being mixed with the wonderful Oblivion - not surprisingly, as Fallout 3 and Oblivion are both made by Bethesda Softworks. I've been in love with the Fallout universe since the first game, especially since it has been turn-based up till now, so I was both eager to play the new game and apprehensive because of the new combat system. Turns out I had nothing to worry about. It's both real-time and turn-based, whatever you prefer, really, and to be honest, I am pretty sure I will use both modes, all depending on the situation. I am also happy that LittleBigPlanet was postponed another two weeks after all, since it would have clashed miserably with the release of Fallout 3. This way I have a week to explore the Wasteland before going on my first adventure with Sackboy.

Fanboys and fangirls will know what I'm yapping about.

While waiting to get back home from work, though, I'm spending my time reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire again, which I believe I haven't done for about seven years or so. J.K. Rowling's imagination is quite extraordinary.

Labels: film, gaming, literature, theatre

I was very surprised yesterday as I happened upon an article in this week's RadioTimes stating that Geoffrey Perkins had died in a car accident in late August. I hadn't heard about this at all. For some peculiar reason I have always shouted "Geoffrey!" every time I see his name in the credits; this has lasted for about...ooh...15 years now? He was one exceptional producer, although I of course knew him first and foremost from the brilliant KYTV (coming to think of it, I also shout "Angus!" when I see the name of Angus Deayton, and "Philip Pope!" when I see his name at the end of some show (yes, he has to be Philip Pope for obvious reasons), and naturally "Michael!" when I see the name of Michael Fenton-Stevens somewhere - it must be a Radio Active/KYTV thing). Have a look at this obituary and wonder where British comedy would be without him.

In other news, apparently previously mentioned Malcolm Sinclair is the vice-president of Equity. Good for him.

Labels: comedy, theatre, TV

Since we went to the theatre way too early on Tuesday (after a short meal at Burger King and then getting the hell out of there due to Leicester Square being filled with silly teens screaming at their High School Musical 3 (yes! THREE! I don't see why they bothered making the first one!) idols (the premiere was on)), we hung about the Wyndham's for a while. At one point I said "could we just nip around the corner, to see The Blue Door (as in "the infamous blue door from Alan Rickman's run in Private Lives at the Albery (now Noël Coward) in 2001")?", and so we did. Within just a few minutes we spotted two theatre celebs; Daniel Boys (I had completely forgot Avenue Q is showing at the Noël Coward) and Douglas Hodge. I was very, very close to running up to the latter to say how much I loved him in La Cage at the Menier, but then I remembered I didn't, really, and commented to C instead that "that guy's been making out with Philip every night for months", as he turned the corner. It would have been funner if I had said it really loudly, of course.

Labels: Alan Rickman, philip quast, theatre