18 August 2007

Pavarotti of Parody

The Mitch Benn Music Club, Reid Concert Hall

Perhaps it was the late hour (2315 - nearer 2330 when the audience finally got seated) or perhaps it was the onset of Fringe fatigue after two and a half weeks of queueing and drinking lager from plastic cups, but this show just didn't grab me. There comes a point in every musical parodist's career when their humorous topical material starts to sound a little out of date and for Mitch Benn that time may be upon him. Trotting out the old favourites isn't really an option once the world has moved on and everything doesn't sound like Coldplay anymore.
Benn has great skill with words and music, demonstrated in a number of on-the-spot improvisations, and the Distractions (well, half of them) provide the usual solid support as genres and instruments are hopped from song to song. The less topical material raised the bar, with Mitch Benn's Musical Version Of The Very Hungry Caterpillar a particular highlight. There was also a hint of loftier ambitions in a particularly pointed song about the ongoing situation in Iraq that provided the only illustration that Benn has not lost his satirical bite.

Pain is so close to pleasure

Richard O'Brien's Mephistopheles Smith, St Augustines

A revival of Richard O'Brien's decade old fringe show, Devilishly Yours, about hell's own evangelist, the now titular Mephistopheles Smith. Comparison's with O'Brien's smash hit Rocky Horror Show are inevitable in a musical show celebrating licence and pleasure, and in terms of music the show more than holds it's own (so to speak). The majority of songs are catchy and well-constructed, with a couple (such as The Best Is Yet To Come) lingering on in the memory. The script asks a lot of the three performers and, as there is no real narrative to speak of, Smith must have charisma to spare to carry the audience along with the show. O'Brien himself probably had it but Paul Roberts, former Stranglers vocalist (no, none of the ones you've heard of) sadly hasn't. As his devilettes Roxanne Palmer is suitably sexy and sleazy but, on this evidence, Francesca Casey has little idea of dramatic timing or expression. A wasted opportunity.

NTW : Singing to backing tapes - Grr!

JTD : Coping well with a venue that has a pillar in the centre of the stage.

Exile On York Place

Phil Nicol - Hiro Worship, The Stand

Returning after his triumph at last year's fringe, Nicol has engaged a star-studded band to playing Rolling Stones numbers during his new show about a Japanese man, the Hiro of the title, with a fixation on the aging rockers. The story is told with Nicol's usual manic energy, going from 0-60 in the time it takes to reach the stage in the Stand, and interspersed with hilarious impressions of Mick Jagger. If the show starts more slowly than Nicol's previous shows, once it gets going the laughs come in quick succession and in great quality. Nicol continues his legendary audience interaction and prospective punters should be aware that avoiding the front row won't necessarily mean you'll avoid physical contact with the Canadian.

NTW : An overlong song about obsessive fans

JTD : Bill Wyman's looking far better these days.

Coffee Time

Owen Powell - The Two Closest Starbucks In Britain, Plesance

There should be a new section in the Fringe guide as Owen Powell's show should really be filed under "Trivia". Despite the lack of belly laughs, Powell's titular quest to locate two closest Starbucks in Britain keeps interest for an hour in the sweltering Plesance Oven, sorry, Cellar. Powell is behoven to PowerPoint, and uses it as skillfully as the (sadly absent this year) Will Smith to explain and enhance his story.
He states at the start of the show that he does not intend to make political points about the proliferation of Starbucks or the effects of globalisation and he keeps to his word for the most part - only hinting at an agenda during the reveal of the two closest branches - about which there is a twist to keep locals happy.
Powell intersperses his quest with testimony from Starbucks employees which seemed to be gems of "found" material until it was revealed that Powell had, in fact, made them up. This was disappointing but reveals a talent for creating Alan Bennett style dialogues of everyday life that is simultaneously humourous and melancholy. Not comedy but easily worth the price of two Grande Lattes.

NTW : Making up the testimony

JTD : Making up the testimony

Roman Geezer

Julius Caesar, C

The students of Exeter University take on the Bard's great historical epic with enthusiasm and innovation, perhaps a little too much enthusiasm when it comes to mob violence and set-piece battles though!
Adapting the play to 75 minutes means a lot of the post-assassination to-ing and fro-ing is lost, but this is an acceptable compromise. On the other hand, the abridgements of the earlier scenes mean a loss of some of the moral ambiguity of Brutus' decision to join the plotters. Unforgivably, however, the scene between Portia and Brutus, that slows down the full version of the text, remains here and features the poorest performance in the otherwise well acted piece. One hopes that the director is getting appropriate (ahem!) recompense from Portia for allowing her to take part.
If there is a little too much scene chewing going on this is forgivable as the participants show a lot of skill in their characterisation, the volatile Cassius - whose lowest setting seems to be "Apoplectic" - particularly shines.
With good music choices and a particularly well directed scene amalgamating the plotting with Calpurnia's pleas to Caesar not to attend the Senate, this production more than does justice to its subject matter.

NTW : The hopeless Portia

JTD : The cross-scene direction

How Can You Expect To Be Taken Seriously

Seriously. Pet Shop Boys. Reinterpreted., Roxy Art House

Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe once revealed that when they first formed Pet Shop Boys they had the idea of an ever-changing line-up under the PSB "brand"; two young Englishmen today, 4 raunchily dressed Japanese girls the next, 3 crusty rockers the next etc. to better suit the particular material they had written. They could do worse than fully endorse the performers in Seriously and send them out on tour.
This show is superb. It contains, to quote one of the songs not used in the show, love, sin, sex, divine intervention, death and destruction - everything for your complete entertainment. Two interconnected stories - a married couple's break up and their son's discovery of love - are told through Tennant/Lowe compositions re-arranged and inter cut in a style that can best be described as "cabaret-opera". The choice of songs, lyrics (from full readings, to repeated choruses, to single lines) and arrangements for live string quartet and piano are well made and beautifully performed. This succeeds in bringing out how wide-ranging and often deceptively touching Pet Shop Boys are as songwriters, with echoes of Sondheim at his best. Match this material with fabulous vocalists who can not only sing but act too, and you have a theatrical experience never to be forgotten.
The venue's architecture and acoustics add to the beauty of the piece as the musicians are framed inside an archway and the performers use the space effectively. Special praise should go to Maria Mercedes and Michael Howard Smith as the doomed couple, whose performance of a medley of Jealousy, I Don't Know What You Want But I Can't Give It Any More, You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You're Drunk and Left To My Own Devices is merely the first of several show-stoppers.
Seriously is one of those shows where you want the performance to stop so you can prepare yourself to experience it. I went twice and would go again in an instant. My pick of the Fringe so far.

NTW : Some of choreography was a little ropey (but seconds out of the 75 minute running time)

JTD : You'll believe these songs were written to be performed this way, perhaps they were!

A finger of milk, in a dirty glass

Andy Zaltzman, 32, Administers His His Emergency Dose Of Afternoon Utopia, Steps Back, And Waits To See What Happens, The Stand

Non-confrontational political comedian Andy Zaltzman takes the theme of building a utopia for his show this year. His ideas are as brilliant as ever - a contractually obligated third World War in the 1970s that no one reported as Germany had already lost the best of three series 2-0 for example - but they're not as numerous nor, critically, as replete with gags as they have been in the past. That some of his set-piece stories meandered a little and fizzled out rather than climaxed, was especially regrettable as he was reading them from a book and one supposed he was keen to stay as close to his words as possible. Still solidly entertaining for an hour, but definitely a case of "must try harder".

NTW : Reuse of material from previous shows and his Political Animal compere-ing

JTD : Ideas, ideas, ideas - Andy's reasons for proposing marriage and his heart to heart with a ballot paper.

Up in the morning early

The Early Edition, Udderbelly

Marcus Brigstocke, Andre Vincent and their guests go through the morning's papers for find comedy in current events. To some extent the show relies on the content of the papers but in August, it being "silly season", it can be fairly guaranteed that material won't be lacking. Once the foursome, completed on the day I saw the show by Nick Doody and Miles Jupp, got into their stride there were plenty of laughs to be had. Brigstocke held it together and kept the show moving well, while also providing most of the best gags and audience interaction, including a brief conversation with your correspondent about the City Of Edinburgh Council's transport strategy that was quickly abandoned when it became clear that there was not a great deal of comedy in the topic. A great way to start your fringe day.

NTW : An unnecessary question and answer session

JTD : Brigstocke's Friday Night Project impressions

14 August 2007

Brothers, Sisters Can't You See!

The Tommy Sheridan Chat Show, Teviot

Surprisingly, following the itemisation and slating of his opening material in a national newspaper, Sheridan has stuck with it, but then neither taking any notice of the press nor letting go of lost causes were ever high on Tommy's agenda.
How you enjoy this show depends largely on your position on the ex-MSP, but whether you support or oppose him, you can't ignore the fact that there is the kernel of a possible future career here for Tommy. He needs to have his political edges softened a little and to learn that not every crowd needs to be whipped up into a frenzy and that the presence of a microphone means that there is no need to shout, but a couple of weeks with a media "coach" could see Sheridan develop a nice little sideline in interviewing. When he was comfortable with guest an subject matter, such as discussing football with Jackie McNamara, Tommy did well but such times were few and far between.

NTW : OK, Tommy, we get that you're a socialist

JTD : The sunbed timer

Ying tong tiddle I po

The Lost Tapes Of Tom Bell, White Horse

Bell is a very personable comedian, and he has a number of good ideas that could be expanded to fill an hour long show. Unfortunately he throws them all into one show and never lets any develop to a satisfactory conclusion. Most unforgivably, the concept advertised, a show based around tape recordings of himself as a seven year old, is held off for 20 minutes of only reasonably funny material about mime.
Tom Bell has some promising material, and a fresh way of interacting with an audience but he is more of a "one to watch" than a "must see" at this point.

NTW : one show - one concept. See it through

JTD : Crumpets for all!

Carry On Camping!

Eurobeat - Almost Eurovision, Plesance

The word-of-mouth hit of the Fringe, as 10 countries compete for the audience's text votes in a mini-Eurovision Song Contest that is so keenly observed and executed that it is far more appealing than the real thing has been for many years. The pairing of type of song or performer to country is excellent - tradition giving way to Europop for the Mediterranean countries, veiled homo-eroticism for the former Soviet Bloc and Balkans, experimental ism from Germany and teary-eyed ballads from the Irish.
The performances are energetic and only the occasional obviously "played for laughs" moments jar with the affectionate parodies. The interval act - all ridiculous metaphors and Young Generation costumes and routines - convinced me that the producers should be let loose on the real thing as soon as possible.
Several of the songs were actually rather good but a couple outstayed their welcome and enforcement of the real-life 3 minute limit could have tightened the show considerably. A couple of missed opportunities also blighted the show, the Abba parody wasn't up to much and surely Greece should have tried to give maximum points to (non-competing) Cyprus. The size and scale of the show meant that it wasn't what I'd consider to be a fringe show but it was enormous fun and would be ideal for girls-nights-out or any group who can find it within themselves to embrace the campery. If you've ever chuckled along to the diggy-loos and diggy-lays of the real thing, you'll have a ball at Eurobeat.

NTW : A shame they couldn't have given the UK a Brotherhood of Man/Bucks Fizz style pop masterpiece rather than an overblown Gemini-style ballad.

JTD : The enforced partisanship - if you want to win, opt for Italy, Estonia or Ireland - although I would love to be there on a night when the German krautrock spectacular gets to perform a triumphant encore.

Do not see this show

How To Pimp Your Kids And Shop For Free At Waitrose, Sweet

The title of the show is in no way ironic, Matthew Collins will tell you how to defraud an upmarket grocer and exploit the young. He even shows you the evidence to prove he is not joking.
Using a show as a marketing opportunity to sell a CD, DVD or book can be forgivable if the show itself is entertaining and, though he has a couple of mildly funny anecdotes, Collins' show comes across as a half-prepared presentation to the board. The climax, wherein he explains in detail how he allowed his two young children to busk in Key West, discovered they made money doing so and returned for not just the remainder of that vacation, but twice more since, provoked justified mutterings of moral outrage.
There should be no place at any arts festival for exploitation and borderline suggestions that the audience commit a crime. A closing film of the children outlining their agreement to participate leaves you with a nasty taste in the mouth. Avoid.

(Inevitably) Whatever happened to you?

On The Stage - And Off, Assembly Rooms

Rodney Bewes has carved a comfortable niche for himself performing one man versions of Victorian and Edwardian comic classics, this year he takes on Jerome K Jerome's autobiographical accounts of his days as a struggling actor. In front of a beautiful and appropriate set, Bewes brings to life a panoply of the Victorian theatrical scene, from Michael Winner-like agents to elderly comedians and fading juvenile leads. The achievement of entertaining an audience for over an hour was somewhat undermined, however, by Bewes' threatening to dry up at several points - though he always managed to pull through eventually. Similarly, Bewes' particular vocal style meant that the ghost of Bob Ferris was never far away. That said, this was a solidly entertaining adaptation and an engaging performance by a clearly enthusiastic performer.

NTW : A little under-rehearsed

JTD : A fabulous set-piece between aspiring actor and cigar-chewing agent.

Still no acknowledgement of the time spent in the Boat House

Dylan Thomas - Return Journey, Hill St Theatre

Another tour-de-force from Bob Kingdom, in this show recreating a reading by Welsh bard Thomas. As with Capote, the skill and stamina involved in maintaining a personality over 90 minutes is deserving of the highest praise, added to which, Kingdom never once referred to any script or text during recitation of 2 short stories and several lengthy poems. With base material like Thomas' the time passed effortlessly, with the tale of a mining village charabanc trip an especial highlight. The only false-step in the proceedings was the unfortunate result of a lighting effect that made Kingdom's wig bright orange and had the effect of turning into a down at heel Ronald McDonald.

NTW : D'you want fries with that, boyo?

JTD : A masterful, spell-binding solo performance

Daddy of them all

Justin Moorhouse - Who's The Daddy?, Plesance

Moorhouse develops a near instant rapport with his audience and never loses them for the following hour as he talks easily about his experiences as a father.
A mix of old school style and fresh content had the audience audibly in stitches through tales of shopping trips, single-parent holidays, premature births and father-child relationship building. The secret of a great comedy fringe show is structure and material, Moorhouse has clearly worked hard on both and, if some of the material is not as closely linked to the structure as it could be, Moorhouse's charm and personality paper over the cracks expertly before bringing it all back together for an excellent finale.

NTW : Very, very occasionally the gaps in the structure show

JTD : Pitch perfect delivery of excellent material - it never fails.

They stayed in the Boat House for quite a while.

Dylan Thomas In London, Venue 13

Attempting to take the audience on a whistle stop tour of the great poet's life in London makes this show a little rushed and occasionally disjointed but strong lead and supporting performances, especially from Eloise Howe, carry the audience through.

NTW : Some text book stage school gestures, such as "drinking"

JTD : Energy and talent are not lacking on the stage

Wot no Tuttsi-Fruitsi?!?

Waiting For Groucho, Zoo

This story of the Marx Brothers, told by the Brothers themselves as an aged Chico and Harpo wait for Groucho to turn up to a reunion gig is enthusiastically performed by Glasgow-based Rhymes with Purple productions.
Though the piece covers most of the ground one would hope and the performances are genuinely spirited, the show never quite catches fire as Groucho's gags fall a little flat, Zeppo's monologue feels a little forced and too obviously expository, and Chico's accent veers all across Europe only occasionally settling in Italy.
Special mention should be made of the performance of Harpo who, as befits, does not say a word through the piece and comes closest through his physical comedy to the manic, engaging energy of the original.

NTW : Chico's accent

JTD : A functional and effective set is well used

Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grubb

Trumptonshire Tales, Plesance

When I was five years old my father took me to the theatre. There were hundreds of other kids and parents there and, before the curtain went up it was bedlam as kids ate sweets, messed about, needed to go to the toilet and generally acted as kids do. Then the show began and one man, dressed in a wizard's cape and hat kept all these kids enthralled for an hour and a half with only a piano to assist him. That man was TV legend Brian Cant and, at the Fringe this year, my Dad and I went back to see him again.
The five year olds had grown and been joined by other former-five year olds and their parents to hear Brian tell us about his involvement as narrator of Camberwick Green, Trumpton and Chigley. The genuine affection Cant is held in was clear from the opening ovation and hushed reverence that accompanied his every utterance.
As well as copious clips from all 3 series, there was also film of series creator and writer Gordon Murray to fill in some of the background that Brian was not party to and a question and answer session at the end where the excitement was audible in every speaker's voice.
Phill Jupitus as MC occasionally hogged the limelight and there were traces of the Wrong Kind Of Nostalgia of the "they must have all been on drugs" variety but this was all outweighed by Cant's leading the audience through "My Hat It Has Three Corners". A treat for the not-so-young-as-they-were and old alike.

NTW : Too much Jupitus, not enough Cant

JTD : Give the people what they want - "My it has "

He's behind there with a torch!

The Truman Capote Talk Show, Hill St Theatre

Bob Kingdom captures Capote's character, mannerisms and voice perfectly in this extended monologue. The only guest on this "talk show" is Capote himself and the audience is showered with the requisite anecdotes and tidbits of celebrity gossip. Unfortunately the 90 minute running time is a bit too long and some of the insights into celebrity culture peppered through the monologue are lost to the memory as a result.

NTW : An overlong scene change - if it takes more than 10 seconds it's an interval, it takes more than a minute the audience are entitled to leave.

JTD : An excellent sustained performance

Tired of the festival?

Johnson and Boswell - Late but Live, Traverse

A book launch 250 years late is presented as James Boswell persuades Dr Samuel Johnson to travel to Edinburgh again to puff their accounts of their Scottish adventures.
Spirited performances from Miles Jupp as the appropriately obsequious Boswell and Simon Munnery as the superior and caustic Johnson generate and maintain the audience's interest, even if there does not seem to be much "spark" between them. In retrospect, Munnery being able to get through his opening 10 minute rant against the Scots without being lynched is something of an achievement, however, he never quite escapes the shadow of Robbie Coltrane's Johnson in Blackadder.
With live accompaniment on the pipes and drums and well-worked anachronisms, the show is great fun whether or not you're familiar with the diaries and journals written by the pair.

NTW : Sound effects drowning out Jupp's "Journey to Skye" performance.

JTD : Duelling bagpipes

10 August 2007

Dum Dee Dum Dum Dee Dum

Waiting For Alice, Assembly Rooms

What happens to fictional characters when the book they appear in is not being read? According to Andre Vincent and Phill Jupitus, once they grow tired of rehearsing their parts they have existential conversations on the meaning of “being”. Fortunately, the conversations are quite funny.
Andre and Vincent are Tweedledum and Tweedledee waiting for “you know who”, or at least they were during the performance I saw, they change parts every day (and to some extent within each performance itself) so you can forgive a few lines going a little awry here and there. The writing of the piece is at its best when it captures the nonsensical spirit of Lewis Carroll’s writing and the performances likewise when the performers comedy background comes to the fore. Vincent’s naïve but questioning Dee was matched by Jupitus’ slightly camp and somewhat over-zealous Dum, a performance that put me in mind of Elton John. A solid hour’s entertainment.

NTW : The last minute appearance by "you know who" was a bit of an anti-climax

JTD : "Foldy thing"

09 August 2007

The dingo stole your baby

Sarah Kendall - My Very First Kidnapping, Assembly Rooms

Taking a step away from her usual stand-up, Sarah Kendall brings a part-dramatised tale of outback terror to the Assembly Rooms. My Very First Kidnapping tells the allegedly true story of a weekend from Kendall's college days when a prank mis-fired and found her potentially in the hands of a serial killer.
As well as Kendall, appearing as herself, she is given sterling support by Joanna Neary and, hooray!, Justin Edwards. (If you, like me, were disappointed by what seemed like a no-show by Edwards this year rejoice, for here he is in a supporting role, but still hilarious).
The narrative is well plotted and paced and at some points the tension generated was almost unbearable. Telling such a dramatic story while never being more than 60 seconds from a laugh is a rare achievement. Throw in excellent thumbnail sketches of Kendall's family and a dance routine you'll never forget and you have someting fairly close to comedic perfection.

NTW : No, must have missed that

JTD : Top cast, top script, top direction - top show.

Above the norm

Norman Lovett's Slideshow, Pleasance

Like an old friend, Norm turns up every other fringe to wax laconic on everyday life and the ways of the world, this year he has gone space-age and brought his slide-projector with him. For an hour he talks you through some the recent photographs he's taken with, he is proud to point out, a camera loaded with film rather than new-fangeld pixels.
After a slow start and a few blind alleys that have either been done too many times before (the Innovations catalogue and it's ilk) or are too personal to Lovett (chewing gum on the streets, anyone?) he hits his stride in the second half with tales of snowmen, sci-fi conventions and pregnant tree. If you like your humour gentle but inspired, book for Norm with confidence. You'll even learn how where to score drugs in Liverpool.

NTW : A few too many personal rants

JTD : Getting a huge laugh from a single shrug

07 August 2007

Mourning Glory

David Benson – Nothing But Pleasure, Potterow Pleasance Dome

Fringe regular Benson takes a nostalgic, but never sentimental, look back the events of the first week of September 1997. Like a meaningful-consequenceless Kennedy assassination, the week of public insanity, sorry mourning, following the death of Princess Diana is a real “where were you when…” moment. Ten years later Benson revives his “one year later” show from 1998 taking us through the events of the week and casting a withering eye over them all. His cabaret-lecture approach allows him to impersonate newsreaders, slack jawed gawkers, showbiz stars and royalty with predictably hilarious results. He picks up brilliantly on the absurdity of the media coverage, culminating in Richard Madeley asking a number of ill children to simply name their illnesses because it’s “what she would have wanted.”
Most commendably Benson does not shy away from reminding his audience that Diana had been persona non grata in the weeks immediately preceding her death and skewering the hypocracy of the media and some of the public for their near instantaneous u-turn in the early hours of the 31st of August. Complete with his now-customary singing interludes, Benson succeeds in taking the audience on an enthralling and comedic journey. David Benson – Nothing But Pleasure – the title says it all.

NTW : It seems the lovely old ladies who used to hand out David’s programmes have been forsaken for good, alas.

JTD : Barbara Cartland gets hot’n’heavy with Peter Sissons

06 August 2007

The Pall-bearers Review

Jerry Sadowitz - Udderbelly

If Sadowitz is arguably the most offensive comedian at the fringe, he is definitely one of the funniest. Sometimes his rants take easy shots at easy targets, but other times he manages to get genuine humour from seemingly untouchable subjects. Not for the faint-hearted or those who are offended easily, moderately, with difficulty or almost never. Among the card tricks there will be jokes you find to be in poor taste, others you laugh along with in spite of yourself and some you completely agree with. Every sacred cow (including the Udderbelly itself – hooray!) slaughtered, every prejudice catered for.

NTW : Sadowitz can be a somewhat relentless in his pummelling of a subject

JTD : An excellent section addressing the question of the sincerity of Sadowitz’s jokes.

London kills me

Venus As A Boy, Traverse

A workshopped adaptation of Luke Sutherland’s book tells the story of a boy from Orkney whom circumstance propels towards a life as a male prostitute and semi-transexual in London. The brutally explicit narrative is excellently performed by Tam Dean Burn who succeeds in taking the audience on a journey into what would be the heart of darkness were it not for the central character, Cupid’s eternal optimism. In dealing with how the abused “normalise” their experiences this piece may not be to everyone’s tastes but the script is well paced between the sometimes horrific lows and the fleeting highs, the sparse set is well used to portray the bleak landscape of Orkney and the dingy brothels of Soho and the few props exploited imaginatively. Ultimately, though, the show stands or falls by Burn’s performance and the nuances he brings to his work. His skill means that the most reprehensible characters are portrayed to have some redeeming features and even Cupid himself is not portrayed in an entirely flattering light. The absence of clearly defined ‘good’ or ‘evil’ characters means that Venus As A Boy continues to resonate long after the last notes of the live musical accompaniment has faded.

NTW : The worth of the live musical accompaniment is questionable

JTD : The subtle and appropriate gestures used to denote the secondary characters paint them as instantly as a hundred costume changes would have.

The nation's favourite female comedy double act appearing in a hut near the Pleasance at quarter to five

Two Left Hands, Pleasance

A sketch show based around a run down seaside town is not the most promising concept but Charlotte Hudson and Leila Hackett manage to inject enough energy into it to ensure the hour passes by amiably enough.
Their range of performances cannot be criticised but the writing quality varies wildly over the various sketches. There’s an excellent sketch between a mother and a daughter that has genuine pathos but there’s also a series of awful sketches centred on two lads’ attempts to pull girls by appearing sophisticated, but not too sophisticated, that are unfocussed and dull. A bigger problem than the overall writing standards, however, is the complete lack of punchlines, vital for blackout sketches to feel satisfactory.
The whole is saved, however, by a closing section dedicated to the reunion of Elaine Paige and Barbara Dickson that betrays a great fondness below the mickey-taking (plus bonus points for including the none-more-80s “ooh, Gary Davies” Radio 1 jingle).

NTW : The “funny woman” spectrum runs a long way from Victoria Wood to Su Pollard – there are too many moments from the “I wanna be a yellow coat” end of the scale.

JTD : Is it worth sitting through the poorer sections to have Charlotte Hudson almost strip in front of you? Shamefully, the answer is yes.

Cold snap

Last South, Pleasance

“History does not record the names of those who finished in second place.” So wrote Captain Robert Falcon Scott, ironically history’s best remembered runner-up. There are a fair few other ironies revealed during Last South’s presentation of 2 concurrent monologues of the race for the South Pole in 1912, one from Scott, the other from his rival, Roald Amundsen.
Adapted from the writing and diaries of Scott and Amundsen, G.M. Calhoun’s script initially assumes a little too much that the audience has knowledge of the mechanics of a polar expedition but eventually settles into an engaging narrative highlighting the differences in approach, both literally and figuratively, of the British and Norweigan quests for the Pole.
The skill of the scripts and performances of Adrian Lukis as Scott and Jamie Lee as Amundsen is in maintaining interest in the reasons for Amundsen’s “victory” and Scott’s failure. Does Amundsen’s embracing of the concept of a “race” to the pole give him the edge over Scott’s better equipped and funded expedition? Does Scott’s deep seated desire to achieve more than his former subordinate, Ernest Shackleton’s earlier expedition prove his undoing?
The device of having the actors “write” their diaries onstage is a valid one, but spoiled by the prop diaries being quite clearly the script of the piece. In itself that would be no problem, a legitimate device to remain faitfull to the words as written but they should be better disguised.
In the earlier stages the similarity between the tales of trudges through the Antarctic wilderness can slow the pace a little, but the closing contrast between Amundsen’s triumphant return to his ship and the heart-breaking final entries and letters of Scott’s doomed expedition are stunningly well performed.

NTW : The script-diaries, disguise them or lose them!

JTD : The closing passages revealing the softer side of Scott.

Third party candidates

Political Animal, Underbelly

A late-night showcase gig supposedly for political comics (or at least for comics’ political material) devised and hosted by Andy Zaltzman. The show I saw featured Marcus Birdman, Alastair Barrie and Richard Herring.
As compere, Zaltzman produced his trademark inspired ideas and backed them up with excellent gags, dealt with the disruptive audience elements in an effective and idiosyncratic way and, commendably, gave hecklers fair credit where it due.
Marcus Birdman’s set was well paced and crammed with fabulous material. He was easily the biggest hit with the audience and, on this evidence, his solo show should be well worth checking out.
Alastair Barrie took a more improv-based approach and, though it consequently suffered in terms of structure, suggested that forking out for his solo hour would also be money well spent. Particular credit to Barrie for getting the audience back on side when he decided to give up on a routine half-way through.
Last up was Richard Herring whose material, by his own admission, is rarely political in the strictest sense of the word. Perhaps the best that can be said it that of all the Richard-Herring-style, intelligent, sarcastic, ironic, studenty-type comedians, Richard Herring is the best.

NTW : Herring’s tendency to flog a concept to death.

JTD : Birdman’s “pretending to be a Jew” routine.

Clockwatching

Kim Hope - It's About Time, Teviot

Australian Kim Hope puts a lot of effort into her show but, unfortunately, her hard work can’t compensate for the poor quality of her material. She tries to confound the cliché that women are only interested in weddings and babies but succeeds only in confirming it with an annoying tendency to end a routine complaining about a subject, say, babies, by saying : “Nah, but babies are great really.”
Hope has a few good gags but not nearly enough to fill an hour, so it is fortunate that her personality can carry the audience through the act. Some interesting experimentation with the format of a comedy gig by introducing quizzes and prizes also relieves what might otherwise have been an unbearable hour.

NTW : No amount of personality can make up for a lack of gags.

JTD : The quiz managed to put a bit of momentum into her act.

03 August 2007

"Aren't you Paul Lavers?" "No, I'm David Niven." "Then you're the finest man who ever breathed."

7 Spies At The Casino, Underbelly

Spend an hour in the company of Britain's first international screen star, war hero, quintessential chap and "forgotten" James Bond, David Niven. 7 Spies... strings together a bunch of Hollywood anecdotes - many from the pages of Niven's own books - with the story of the making of the first and greatest film version of Casino Royale - the best movie ever to feature Chic Murray shooting Orson Welles through a TV set. It is odd, however, that a show taking this celluloid delight as its subject should denigrate it so much, while also mentioning just about everything that made it great (Bernard Cribbins!, turbo-charged milk floats!!, a robotic Ronnie Corbett!!!)
Playing "Niv" is Paul Lavers, whom your funny uncle will remember from his role in Doctor Who in 1978 and your granny will remember as that nice blond fella from imperial phase QVC. Lavers' work for shopping channel means that he is quite at home chatting to an audience for an hour and, in make up, could be at least a long-shot double for Niven himself. Beyond the pencil moustache and evening dress, however, he presents far more than a caricature of Niven, taking us into the actor's life off set and skillfully shedding just enough light and emotion on personal tragedies amid the name-dropping.
James Goss' (yes, BBC "Who" website supremo) script is suitably dry and witty and consequently and correctly provides more chuckles than belly laughs. The grating effect of one of the production staff to raise bigger laughs during the performance I saw were not appreciated and became more distracting when the guffaws punctuated lines that were not even close to the denouement of the anecdote.
A well chosen set and sympathetic lighting evoke the cool chic of the swinging 60s well (although one would have thought the budget would have run to a couple more quid for an olive on a cocktail stick in Niv's martini!) in a piece that ably, amiably and honestly ressurrects one of Hollywood's legendary raconteurs.

NTW : Could have done with a little more in the way of visuals, stills from the film might be expensive but some sort of chart or diagram mapping the making of the movie could have provided both more visual stimulus and further opportunities for comedy.

JTD : Lavers' recounting the entire plot of the film and, almost, making it seem like it made some sort of sense is some achievement.

02 August 2007

Still magically delicious!

Andrew Maxwell - Waxin', Pleasance

The deceptively charming Irishman returns! In the preview I saw, Maxwell upped the whimsy content over last year's, more hard-edged "Round Twilight", and "Waxin'" was all the better for it. That's not to say that there isn't still plenty here to offend (with a wide variety of religions particularly mocked and a fair deal of swearing) but the more even balance between the message material and the mischievous material is beneficial. Coupled with the rapport Maxwell can build with an audience he's only a couple of steps off the pace of the great days of Billy Connolly.
Certainly his set pieces on the pride the people of Cork have in their city, his upcoming "charitable" appearances and the etiquette of Hampstead Heath's swimming ponds are the stuff of Parky-style anecdotage and Maxwell's free-wheeling style allows him to digress hilariously from these onto a variety of excellent side gags. With his "Leith schemie" accent already legendary, Maxwell also threw in Scouse, Slovak, Glaswegian, Orcadian, Jamaican and a number of Irish accents to great comic effect.
With good basic material and the tightening of the show's structure that should come during the previews, this just may be Andrew Maxwell's year.

NTW : The meandering can go down a few "but, you know..." or "it's crazy, isn't it?" blind alleys.

JTD : Skag-a-job week - brilliant ideas, brilliant gags, brilliant physicality - a miniature masterpiece.

01 August 2007

Crampons? Is that not taking the "new man" thing a bit far?

Long Time Dead, Traverse

Rona Munro's new play explores how our passions effect our relationships and how our relationships can turn passion into obessession throught a narrative based around mountaineering. Watching the actors climb around a set incorporating climbing walls, tunnels and hidey-holes, one learns a lot more about mountaineering than one would expect from an evening at the theatre. As well as the dexterity shown by the performers, the technical aspects of the set are well managed as dry ice floats eerily over the audience through a lozenge-shaped hole that provides a viewing panel onto the stage. This is also effective as a tool to divorce the performance space from the audience's reality and enhance the more fantastical elements of the plot.
Intriguingly, this piece could have ended satisfactorily at the interval but the second act, wherein the consequences of not keeping one's end of a bargain with God are enacted, leads to a satisfying and thankfully not cloying conclusion. The plot is well served by by realistic dialogue, just enough good gags and actors who never lose concentration as they climb and act simultaneously. With such strong performances, such an intriguing premise, such a well crafted script and complementary set design, Long Time Dead is, fittingly, theatre at a peak.

NTW (Needless Theatrical Wank) : An overdone Cock-er-nee accent provides the only mis-footing in the piece.

JTD (Justified Theatrical Devices) : The exploitation of the physical set is promoted well without ever over-shadowing the nuances of the performances and script.

29 July 2007

What's that coming over the hill?

So...erm...yes...well...I've been busy. Busy-ness has prevented me from writing planned entries about going on holiday, the brilliance of The West Wing, a list of little things that annoy me, praise for the new Macca album (suffice it to say, some of it is fab, some of it is poor, and most of it is whistleable), an entry on "interesting things I've found on the ground", the melancholy that comes when landmarks of your past are destroyed and why everyone who previewed The Simpsons Movie got it entirely wrong.

But I've missed the boat on those, so you'll not hear about them unless I get desperate, which will be in about a month's time! I've given the place a bit of a "redd-up" as they say in my part of the world and prepared it for what it was always intended to do. Host my opinions and reviews of Fringe shows. The signs are up, the posters are starting to be visible, the Sunday papers have previewed lots of the shows they think will be "hot", I've taken a perverse pleasure in noticing that I have hardly any of them in my schedule, the cow is back - a visual signfier, in my mind, of all that is wrong with the Fringe, and some tickets have already been booked. My schedule this year, flying in the face of my stated goals of seeing less shows than the Arts Editor of The Scotsman, is quite ambitious, and I doubt it can be followed completely. There is at least one six show day, and a couple of 4s and 5s. Ulp. I've also booked ahead for more than I ever have before, but the stuff that's known to be good sells out so quickly.

Anyway......here we go......

28 April 2007

The Play's The Thing!



Given that the past month has been basically taken up with going to the theatre and that the Fringe is now only an exciting 3 months away, I thought I would revive the Valves theatrical review strand this month and pass comment on the four productions we've been to see this month. The fact that the so-far excellent (4 episodes in) third series of Who has visited William Shakespeare is purely coincidental! Luckily, the standard is high!

Updates - no new reports yet, but a few more in the pending pile---weight loss consistent, but 3lbs off-target, although it should become easier now summer is here----Ebay sales progress, and those who have taken their time to pay have now done so, hooray!----Theatrical excitement does not bode well for the Fringe goal.

The Play What I Wrote


So, first up is the Morecambe and Wise referencing "The Play What I Wrote", West End hit and promiser of Special Guest Stars!
I thought it was a straightforward Morecambe and Wise tribute show with perhaps a slight linking narrative, but in fact it's the story of a struggling double act with similarities to Morecambe and Wise, one of whom wants to divert into serious theatre with the Ern'-like Play What He Wrote and the other of whom wants to follow the big bucks that he believes a Morecambe and Wise tribute show will bring them. The first half ends with them agreeing to follow the Eric and Ernie route and the second half is set up to be the show. However, it never really gets going, and they are side-tracked again into the "Play What I Wrote" with the obligatory guest stars - in this case Colin and Justin, one of whom was very good, the other of whom was very dire. I'm not sure which is which but the bleached blonde one was rubbish.
The show was fun and, as long as you're prepared for variety-style pratfalls, cross talk and double entendres, contains many good laughs. The biggest problem with this particular production was that I never believed the two leads were actually a double-act and they didn't garner much sympathy from this particular audient. I just wanted them to get on with the curtain routines and the songs and dances.
NTW : The whole production was just a little threadbare - design, or actual wear and tair?
JTD : Well done to Colin and Justin (and to all the guest stars ever) because far from a walk on cameo, they have a lot to do to carry the second half.

Underneath The Lintel


To London's glittering West End, for Glen Berger's Underneath The Lintel, starring The West Wing's Richard Schiff.
The play is a whimsical little piece, that from time to time takes itself a little too seriously. The story of a Dutch librarian who becomes intrigued by a late returned book and embarks on a quest to find the borrower, Underneath the Lintel finds the single character ruminating on the nature of life, history and meaning without ever becoming forboding. The plot hangs on a series of Da Vinci Code-like coincidences and theories, and the skill for the single actor in the play is to make these seem natural or to make the librarian's acceptance of them not seem too outrageous.
Richard Schiff held the audience in his hand for 90 minutes, unspooling his tale of laundry tickets, 18th century landed gentry and tramcars with perfect timing and drawing the audience further into the world of the lonely librarian. His standing ovation at the peformance I saw (the final London performance) was the least we could do to signal our appreciation of his skill at his craft.
NTW : The set was a basic community hall or class room, so attempts to "jazz it up" with dimming and brightening wall lamps was distracting.
JTD : 90 minutes, an audience, one man. That's theatre right there.

Black Watch

So, 9 months on from this, would Black Watch still be as thrilling and satisfying a whole Fringe and a national tour later? In a word, yes.

On second viewing, the historical parallels are even stronger, the brilliantly executed set pieces even more brilliant, the writing even sharper and the characterisation, which was possibly overlooked by me last time in my awe at the complete spectacle, was pin sharp from the outset.

I would hesitate to say that the producers have taken the Valves advice and shortened the closing tattoo, but it certainly didn't seem to go on as long this time. The choreographed fights were tighter and what few alterations have been made to the structure of the piece have served to focus and energise it.

As the Herald says "The world should see this play."

NTW : The first "dance and physical theatre" move is still a tiny bit grating, but far less so than it was.

JTD : I've decided it's definitely letters from home. A wise man recently said "You can change people from that stage, change their minds." Even without a stage, Black Watch can do this.

Tutti Frutti

Anything was always going to pale next to Black Watch, but Tutti Frutti held its own well, but ultimately it was a battle it was never going to win.

Nonetheless, my advice would be don't go to see it directly after Black Watch rather than don't go to see it.

John Byrne has adapted six hours of TV drama into three hours of stage drama and almost gotten away with it. The speed is the biggest problem, you know what's happening, but you don't care as much as you should. The performers were great, the set is magnificent and practical and the lines are good, there are just too many of them.

Having never seen the TV series I sincerely hope the rumoured BBC4 repeat run can be secured, as the somewhat disappointing play leaves me in no doubt that it will be fabulous.

NTW : It needs to be slowed down, as the characters have no chance to endear themselves to you before they have begun their "journey".

JTD : Bizarrely, the same thing because it demonstrates brilliantly how your viewing of television narrative differs from stage narrative. On TV you give the characters a chance to establish their personalities without verbally or physically signposting them, on stage the lack of that signposting makes it very difficult to empathise or sympathise with them.

25 March 2007

Under the wire?

Hello again,

Quick update :

Ebay sales progressing
Another report published this month
Another 2 and a half pounds off - yeah, that could be better...

Anyway...on with the motley

The greatest lesson Jesus ever taught was "always have a plan B"

Spent a great proportion of last weekend watching the superlative "North Square" on Teleport Replay or whatever Virgin call it now. Having not seen it (in common with nigh on everyone else) since it's only transmission on Channel 4 in late 2000, I was gratified to find that it really was a brilliantly written, directed and performed TV series.
Centred around a newly formed barrister's chambers in Leeds, the show highlighted the acting talents of Helen McCrory, Kevin McKidd and Rupert Penry-Jones as young barristers and Phil Davis in never-bettered form as Head Clerk Peter McLeish, a Machiavellian mixture of Del Boy, Arthur Daley, Gordon Gecko and Michael Corleone. Given another series and a bit of softening of the character, he could have been a TV archetype to rival Bet Lynch, Yosser Hughes or Victor Meldrew. He wades in the muck of Leeds' criminal underbelly to keep his barristers in business and spinning schemes on a sixpence to keep them from harm, and coming out with one liners like this piece's headline to endear himself to the viewer and his junior clerks, Johnny Boy and "Bob". Superb.
Alas, it was not to be, but any fans of 21st century television drama should seek it out (it seems to have disappeared from the listings now, sadly). Now, Virgin, any chance of "Trust"?

Major Tom's a cheeky monkey!



Also taking up some time in the brain recently has been Bryan Ferry's new LP, "Dylanesque".

Yes, another album of cover versions from suave legend Byron Ferrari, but only because the Roxy Music reunion record has been progressing slowly and it is for the most part a cracker.

Bryn Fury is a past master of the cover version, of course, offering a radical re-working of "A Hard Rain's A Gonna Fall" as his first solo single, and turning his hand to standards and rock and roll classics with aplomb in his time.

The LP opens with two typical "Ferry Does Dylan" tracks, "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues" and "Simple Twist Of Fate" in the "stomp-stomp" style of his earlier "Hard Rain" and "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue" from his last collection, "Frantic". There are a couple of embarrasing moments "The Times They Are A-Changing" is a period piece and resurrecting it seems a bit nonsensical, and "To Make You Feel My Love" disappointly retreads the Dylan original and Billy Joel's version. However, the already magnificent "Postively 4th Street" is brilliantly handled, substituting Dylan's biting dismissal with resigned melancholy over a lover determined not to learn the lessons the singer had been trying to teach. The closing instrumental minute is worth the price of admission alone.

And so, to cover versions in general....one rule and one rule only, they need to be different. They need to add something to the song that the original didn't highlight. Hence my top 5 cover versions (most of whose originals are excellent too):

5. Comfortably Numb - Scissor Sisters. Weld the Pink Floyd original to a Disco beat and a Bee Gees delivery, revelatory.

4. You're Beautiful - Fred MacAulay. From the recent "Comic Relief does Fame Academy" (don't dwell on the awful title). Now this was an annoying song when sung by the wettest trained killer ever to grace the charts. There was no emotion. Fred nailed it. He saw her face in a crowded place and....he didn't know what to do (blub!).

3. Mr Tambourine Man - The Byrds. The greatest intro to any record ever? Pure sunshine in a bottle!

2. Always On My Mind - Pet Shop Boys. The inability to express regret makes the expression of it even more poignant. Best experienced in the video version from the film "It Couldn't Happen Here" with Joss Ackland. "I smell youth, vintage youth."

1. With A Little Help From My Friends - Joe Cocker. About as far from the "identikit" cover version as you can get. Ringo's singalongaPepper transformed into a behemoth of heavy pop, so wrought you could build Victorian gates out of it!

How can a light that burned so brightly, suddenly burn so pale?


Some of those "identikit cover versions" were mentioned in BBC3s "Top 100 Most Annoying Pop Songs". I actually rather enjoyed this programme, but oddly not for the reasons the makers intended.
It was striking how many of the entries began with a talking head saying "That's a great record.", usually shortly after I had said the same thing, or words to the same effect. I believe of the 50 pop songs listed last night I had at least 45 on my iPod.
My musical taste can, at times be questionable (but those questions can be proudly answered in most cases) but the issue was with the title and premise of the programme. The list from 100 - 50 included "Move On Up" by M People, "Holding Back The Years" by Simply Red, "JCB" by Nizlopi, "Bright Eyes" by Art Garfunkel, "Hello" by Lionel Richie and "Don't Cha" by the Pussycat Dolls. The list was not, in fact, the most annoying pop songs, but the most catchy and fleetingly ubiquitous pop songs. Catchiness and fleeting ubiquity are the very apotheosis of the pop record, and should be celebrated, not denigrated. Yes, not every time and place befits an airing of "Money For Nothing", but in small doses when the time is right, nothing else can hit the spot like the Knopf' banging out those power chords.
Most of the records had been hugely popular in their time, and this can definitely be a curse, but can lead to a strange phenomenon. "Bright Eyes" was huge hit before my time (only slightly, but the point stands) and it became a by-word for naff pop, meaning it was very rarely heard. Once I did hear it properly (and shorn of associated animated rabbits) it is a cracking tune with touching lyrics sung well by a distinctive, interesting voice. In short, it is a pop masterpiece.
In the programme's defence, one of the talking heads was from Toploader, a band who I could never stand, with especial reference to their mega hit "Dancing in the Moonlight", because it was just weedy and pointlessly commercial. Being twinned with Jamie Oliver in a Sainsbury's ad didn't do it any favours either! I'll cheer when that one pops up on the list. And also they showed a clip of Don MacLean, Peter Glaze and Jan Hunt doing a typically barmy "Bohemian Rhapsody" on Crackerjack.
Crackerjack!

18 February 2007

A herald!

So, back again, at last, eh?

Point one, you'll see the Valves has been somewhat expanded, with the addition of other blogs for you to try and the like, and I've also been experimenting with some other technical whizz bangs you might notice!

How are the various quests going, I hear you ask?

Well, six weeks in I'm five pounds lighter, which is not disasterous, but is on the worrying side. I've even had the old exercise bike defrosted to try to shed further pounds. I'm worried, however, that all it's doing is building me up into a God-like superbeing rather than reducing me to the svelte lamp-post I aspire to become!

At least one report will be published this month, so that's something, and I am committed to having further reports drafted by the end of February. Fingers crossed.

The ebay sales are going OK, but I'm not getting the prices I really want for some of the items and others have stubbornly refused to sell. If it isn't sold after 3 auctions it goes to the Charity Shop. I can't believe no one wants my near excellent condition McCartney biographies.

I'll have to console myself with the encouraging words posted about my blog (hint, hint!)

No, but seriously folks, and I mean this most sincerely, just knowing several people have been here is enough...

"A sign of a healthy and energetic culture"

....indeed blogs have been much in the news recently, not least because of this woman, Judith O'Reilly, whose blog Wife In The North, about her experiences moving from London to Northumberland has landed her a £70, 000 book deal. If any publishers are looking in, I'd settle for £65, 000. This story was reported by the Sunday Times, who a week previously had published a story basically saying that Brian May, poodle-haired guitarist and Buckingham Palace straddler, was a bit grumpy on his blog. As, indeed he is, but is this news? Brian himself (of whom more hereafter) asks the same thing.
Another star with a blog is already celebrated antipodean, Clive James. James' website is shaping up to be a fantastic place to spend any spare time you may have, containing as it does many articles and essays unseen for a number of years, as well as his "Library" interviews. At the risk of becoming an unofficial Clive James fansite, I'll direct you here, if you need reminding what all the fuss is about.
(P.S. Clive's weekly Points Of View on Radio Four are already required listening for all. If I ruled the world this is the kind of regulated whimsy children would receive from an early age!)

Rock Music For Twelve-Year-Olds


Which brings me rather neatly to Queen. I occasionally find that a blast of Queen can set me up for the day, other times their over-blown pomp-rock is the very last thing I want to hear. The past few weeks, however, have been a veritable Queen fest for me. They are an excellent distraction from the exhaustion of the exercise bike and I've also very much enjoyed Seven Seas of Rhye, Bohemian Rhapsody, Don't Stop Me Now, Crazy Little Thing Called Love, A Kind Of Magic and Headlong blasting out of my iPod as I go about my mundane business. I've made up a playlist based on their Greatest Hits albums, although I've done some major rearrangement when it comes to Greatest Hits III, as might be expected.
My current feeling is that they were an immensely talented bunch, from Roger Taylor's precision drum work on the likes of "Flash" to John Deacon's melodic but never over-fussy basslines on "Under Pressure" and "Another One Bites The Dust". Don't forget quiet, unassuming bassman Deacon also wrote such pop classics as "I Want To Break Free", "You And I", "Spread Your Wings" and "These Are The Days Of Our Lives". Of course, Brian May blasting out two-part guitar solos that start conventionally but then slamming down the whammy bar on the legendary Red Special to produce the "Brian May version". Last, but certainly not least, F Mercury Esq., praise for whose showmanship often eclipses the strength of his voice, listen to the nuances of something like "Save Me" or the way his "It ain't much of askin'..." seems to lift the whole band up from nothing following the guitar solo in "I Want It All." In fact, even it's use on the DFS sofas advert can't dim the brilliance of "I Want It All", definitely on my Desert Island Discs list this week!

"Life is a series of small disasters we try to get through"


Thus spake Michael Palin, whose "Diaries 1969 - 1979" have been taking up most of my reading time since last I posted. Like many diarists or autobiographers, Palin is quite hard on himself, especially about taking the advertiser's shilling in the early '70s. Much fun to be had for Python fans in this volume as Michael is often quite revealing about his fellow Pythons, with Cleese (selfish), Idle (obtuse and rather greedy) and Chapman (drunk) particularly coming in for criticism. His "nicest man in showbiz" reputation is assured by his agonising over how changes to their working relationship post-Python effects Terry Jones. This has led me to embark on a highly enjoyable voyage round "Ripping Yarns", which I recently got on DVD. The commentaries (featuring Palin and Jones) are excellent, even if they do spend a lot of time laughing at their own jokes, a trait I share, and Palin continues the obsession with his teeth that comes across strongly even in the (heavily abridged) diaries.
The most surprising aspects of the diaries for me were Palin's staunch socialist beliefs which are unwaveringly given in the early '70s. Frustratingly his reaction to Mrs Thatcher's election in 1979 has not been included, so whether or not he had mellowed with the introduction of money and comfort to his life is not clear. More pressingly he wrote a novel in 1977 that he then seemed to discard. As a great fan of his only published novel, "Hemingway's Chair", I was simulataneously elated and disappointed that it's unlikely this work will ever see the light of day, shame.

Celluloid Scribblings



Ending up with films again this time, saw "Notes On A Scandal" last week, and enjoyed it muchly. I haven't read the book, so I can't comment if director and minor National Treasure, Richard Eyre, has taken unspeakable liberties with it. I did feel that there should have been a warning to patrons that the film contains scenes of Judi Dench in a bath and that viewers of a nervous disposition should avert their eyes.

One of the greatest things about the film, and any British film really, for me, is seeing actors you just don't see on the big screen very often. In this case the excellent Phil Davis (star of the wonderful, much lamented "North Square", someone must be able to seed this to UK Nova, surely!), the reassuring Tom "George Thomason" Georgeson and the ever welcome presence of Julia "William!" MacKenzie. This last was even more surprising due the presence in the cast of Joanna Scanlan, long suffering Terri in "The Thick Of It" who is the spitting image of Ann Beach, who played "Only me, Sonia" from next door in none-more-80s sitcom "Fresh Fields".

We also managed to catch up with "Little Miss Sunshine", which is life-affirming, touching and, above all, funny. I wouldn't be at all surprised if it sneaked up on the outside to take the top gong at next week's Oscar ceremony.

23 January 2007

Still here!

So, here we are again, then, and of the five ongoing aims I can report:

1. 2 pounds have been lost - yeah!
2. A couple of reports have begun being written - yeah!
3. Ebay sales are continuing apace - anyone wishing to buy some hack biographies of Macca should head on over there pronto - yeah!
4. There's another entry on the blog - who said boo! - see me after class laddie!

So what's been knocking at the door of wonderment and rant this time.....

Double Cross!


Yet more disappointment with Channel 4, not about Jade Goody starting WWIII, but with the intriguingly

premised "Consent".

Billed as a first for TV, Consent showed the audience the build up to and fall out from an alleged rape, perpetrated on Anna Madeley (left), and her decision to report it to the Police, the aftermath of this, the eventual trial and the deliberation of a jury picked at random from the electoral roll, who then delivered a verdict.

The twist was that the jury did not see the "drama" part of the story before the trial as the viewers did, and had only the testimony of the actors and "performances" of the real life Police and Legal folk in the court to decide on.

Unfortunately it was soon clear that the producers had scheduled 2 hours of telly with a hook (the jury deliberations) that barely lasted 20. We saw the alleged victim and attacker carousing at the staff night out, him stepping somewhat over the line by following her into her room, her seeming quite happy to kiss him, and then no more until the next morning and a few days afterwards when she was told she had been promoted, but not to the more senior position she wanted, as that had gone to him.

In court the evidence revolved around was was said and done in the bedroom, that the viewer had not seen. So really we were as in the dark as the jury were, although by this time most viewers would probably have reached a view on the case.

As it was the fascinating, but short, deliberations of the jury ended with a not guilty verdict. Relief in the dock and tears in the public gallery, and then we saw some more of the encounter. Now it was clear it had not been consensual and she had been raped. However, I couldn't help but feel this was a bit of a cheap shot at the members of the jury who participated openly and willingly and I am sure that, had the verdict gone the other way, there was film ready to be used showing that a rape had clearly not taken place.

Come on TV, you can do better than this!

Buzz me up to...number 17


It had to happen eventually, but who knew it would be so soon? Since the singles charts (or "hit parade" if you prefer) embraced all legal downloads, it was inevitable that eventually some "joker" would persuade people to download something a bit random and get it into the top 20. For a while it looked like it was going to be the massed ranks of Doctroo fans pushing that song off the good-but-not-that-good Christmas special into "the only chart that counts". In fact it was the man who made me realise I'm not young anymore, Chris Moyles, who rallied his listeners to download "Honey To The Bee" by Billie Piper, from back she was still just Billie, and as I type it sits at number 17, a monument to the lost innocence of the charts.


I think downloading has been good for the chart, meaning the dog days of 40+ number ones a year may be a thing of the past, and good popular songs hang about for far longer - look at the Scissor Sisters and Razorlight hanging in with over 20 weeks apiece.


It does seem odd to me, however, that Moyles, as a DJ on a chart station should encourage the newly re-credible chart to be discredited, but then his appeal has always been a mystery to me. At least it's a good tune. As your grandfather would say....

Freedom!


I was informed recently of an Emu comic strip that ran in the 70s. Enquiring further I was told that what usually happened was that Emu would get himself into some scrape and at the end of the strip Rod would turn up and sort....HANG ON....REWIND....at the END of the strip Rod would turn up? Rod wasn't with Emu throughout? Apparently not! This struck me as just plain wrong. Emu without Rod was unthinkable! I am assured that I missed the glory days of Rod and Emu and that the Emu I remember, the petulant child clinging to his "mother"s skirts, only awakening to nip or punch another child before returning quickly to his sulks, is a pale shadow of the late 70s Emu who was a lot of fun!

Whatever, he had a go at miserable old "professional journalist" Michael Parkinson, who obviously hates all mention of the incident, so good luck to him, and the much missed Rod.
I used to be a big fan of the Pink Windmill Show (plenty of clips available on YouTube for a Proustian nostalgia rush) and always preferred Grotbags, Croc and Robot Redford to Rod and Emu anyway!
All together now...There's somebody at the door, there's somebody at the door.....

Lord of all the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Sea

....it's Idi Amin!

Saw the long-awaited film version of the Giles Foden novel about a young Scottish doctor taken under the wing of vicious, unhinged but quite personable military dictator Idi Amin. It is a brilliant film, with a standout performance from Forest Whitaker as Amin, and a solid centre in James McAvoy's Nicholas Garrigan.

What the film brought out that I hadn't sensed quite as clearly in the novel was Garrigan's identifying with Amin's dislike of the English ex-pats as the son of another "colonised" nation.

However, I have illustrated this entry with the cover of the novel because, as good as the film is, it doesn't have the same grandeur as the novel, which can take it's time and show more of Garrigan's experiences among the ordinary people of Uganda. The time he spends at the rural mission take up more than a third of the book but are skimmed over in the film. Making it seem as though he spends only a few days there before being appointed Amin's personal physician. The character of the other ex-pat Doctor at the mission is also reduced substantially, and this is to the film's detriment as it is from this man that Garrigan learns the practical side of medicine and how to recognise and treat particularly African problems.

Nonetheless, well worth seeing, if only for the performance of Whitaker. Which brings me on to....

Backslappery!


....this year's Academy Award nominations. For the first time in a while I have missed a couple of the nominees for Best Picture. I wanted to see "The Departed" but it's a lo-o-o-ong film so I never got round to it. (CCB's theory on film length - if you can tell the story of "Citizen Kane" and "Carry On Camping" in less than 100 minutes - why make films any longer?)
I never really fancied Little Miss Sunshine as it didn't look like they'd been faithful enough to the book. Given the large role he plays in the narrative, I would have expected Mr Happy to be on the poster, and even the little worm was missing!
"Letters From Iwo Jima" is in foreign, although I have seen "Babel" and it was pretty much all in foreign too. "Babel" is a good film, but not a great film and shares an identical structure with last year's winner "Crash", except it isn't as good, and (the cardinal sin) it lasts longer. Which only leaves "The Queen" which I hadn't realised the Americans has so taken to their hearts. Perhaps if the many British "jokes" - "Tell Gordon he'll have to hang on!" - don't resonate it seems more poignant and heart-felt. Peter Morgan must be rubbing his hands with glee!
Surely Peter Baynham's nomination as one of the writers of "Borat" marks the only time an Oscar nominee has appeared in a Pot Noodle commercial.
As I said above, Forest Whitaker's portrayal of Idi Amin is well worthy of any prize awarded for anything, and it would be great to see him accept his award in the Helen Mirren style; "You didn't fall in love with me, you fell in love with Idi Amin...."

07 January 2007

Let's go round again !

New Year, New Me!

New posts!

New incentive!

Read on!

A cleansing ritual to self-assessment and repentance

On New Year's day we had a fantastic meal with my girlfriend Fiona's brother, his wife and her family. This family have a tradition of setting aims for themselves over the year, and ajudging their progress at the beginning of the next. This judging also includes a prize giving and, presumably, bragging rights for the year ahead.

Myself and Fiona have become involved in the project this year, and I intend to recount my progress via this blog. Hopefully this will give a bit of impetus to the Valves and mean I can find something to write about on a more regular basis. Be warned, however, this will mean more rambling, more unjustifiable views and more florid language!


Anyway my aims, and my progress so far are as follows:

1. A weight loss aim, I must lose 3 stone before the end of the year. So far I have only had one weigh in, so I know where I'm starting from, but progress is difficult to measure thus far.
2. A work aim, to have at least 9 reports published this year. I'm not a fool so I can't reveal the nature of my work (part of it demands confidentiality and my reports are necessarily published anonymously) but Fiona will be the adjudicator for this. I have one report already at second draft stage and two more have been approved for publication internally (there is an external opportunity for comment also) so I think I'm well on the way with this.
3. A home aim, to sell all the stuff I have earmarked as being for selling on eBay. I have not done anything on this aim since the New Year.
4.A creative aim, to post at least once a month on the Valves. I'm doing it now! Well done me!
5. A cultural and money-saving aim - to see fewer shows at the Fringe this year than the arts editor of the Scotsman. He saw 28 last year, and I saw more, and as an ordinary punter, I paid for all mine too. In order to wean myself off the Fringe and to save money I will attempt to see fewer.
You will notice the absence of any mention of The Macca Project there. Maybe in 2008?

"A brilliant bunch of guys"



I have been reading since Christmas day a fine present from Fiona's parents, Clive James' fourth volume of autobiography - "North Face of Soho".

I find it a wonderful but frustrating read. Wonderful because each page drips with James-ian wit; on an offer to fund the publication of a biography of Louis MacNeice : "There were no big advances in those days, but the sum he proposed was more like a retreat.", and it is a book you can hear the audio version of as you read it as it is written in the same rhythm and cadence as James' speech. Frustrating because it makes me wonder if there is any point in my writing anything when it cannot compare to the standard set by James. Have faith, gentle reader, I shall continue regardless.

The chapter I've just read contains what may be a dig at Victoria Wood, so my opinion of Clive has gone down a tad as a result.

Of course, one of Clive's greatest attributes for me is his willingness to accept popular culture as being as relevant and lively as high culture, and one can only speculate as to how he would review the glut of reality programming currently blocking our tubes.

Back to reality



Just when we breathe a sigh of relief that Mark and Karen had lifted the trophy they so richly deserved on "Strictly" back comes Celebrity Big Brother for a fifth run, and the longest yet!

In fact there has been an explosion of reality TV since the New Year began, with Just The Two Of Us, Soapstar Superstar and CBB ensuring that only BBC 2 of the 4 majour channels (sorry, five I adored Big Love, but you're still not quite there) hasn't got a stripped reality show running at the moment. But I notice "Can Gerry Robinson Save The NHS?" begins on Monday.

I think CBB has less potential this year, than last, but a seemingly poor selection of housemates has been made up for in the shape of the legendary Ken Russell and the concrete ego that is Jermaine Jackson (parents, brace yourselves for I now intend to name my first child "Jermajesty" - the ludicrousness of the name meaning it matters not what sex the child is!). Fiona also seems to have taken a bit of a shine to former "Face man" Dirk Benedict.

Anyway, I will be attempting to limit my reality quotient this year, and have earmarked only "Strictly..." as a must watch, with an eye being kept on CBB, the regular BB, Britain's Got Talent and X-Factor (auditions for definite, thereafter a maybe). It is almost possible to measure out the whole year in reality if you go from CBB to Strictly Dance Fever to BB to X Factor to proper Strictly, and that is a scary prospect for television in Britain, which leads me on to....

"It smelt like a Sunday show to me..."


After the CBB show on Friday night, we watched the latest US-import on Channel 4, "Ugly Betty". Fiona was very taken with it, and I enjoyed it too, but it led me to thinking about the hype that has surrounded this and other US imports recently, and the black arts of TV scheduling.
It strikes me that very often TV schedulers don't really understand the viewing habits of the British public, which is odd as it was their forebears who created them. We are used to hour-long drama series lasting six or seven weeks, as they had done since the beginning of widespread TV in this country. Only in the last five years have these started to swell to 12 or 13 episodes (which are more useful numbers for overseas sales). Half-hour sitcoms are slightly different, as they don't usually require as much concentration, so the longer US-sized 22-26 week series have been successful for some time.
US drama, and now comedy-drama, is slightly different. The fruits of HBO, and now the major networks, often run to the same lengths. That makes a quarter of a year of The Sopranos, CSI, Desperate Housewives, Six Feet Under and the like. I get a definite sense of fatigue after about 8 or 9 weeks of these kind of shows, and the audience figures show that I am not alone in being tempted to bail out as the plots slow down and for several weeks the major plots don't seem to advance much.
Our schedulers seem to panic at this point and the shows are relegated to more out of the way slots, to make way for the new "next big thing". So, Ugly Betty, I am sure, will do well in it's highly publicised slot for a few weeks (possibly helped by being sandwiched between CBB), but I would be willing to put money that it won't end it's season in the same slot as it begun because once those ratings start to slide the schedulers will start to panic.
Far better, I feel to schedule a long-runner in a long-runner's slot (9 or 10pm on a weekday or 9pm on a Sunday) and let the audience stabilse more quickly.
P.S. These are the kind of arrogant opinions on subjects I really know nothing about that Fiona hates, so I will use the blog to vent my righteous opinions rather that subject her to further barrages of hot air....perhaps.

"The soundtrack of being stuck in the car with your parents"


The above is a quote about the radio show around which Robert Altman's final film "A Prairie Home Companion" is based. I went to see the film yesterday with Fiona, and we enjoyed it very much.

Like most of what will now definitely be called Altman's late-period films, there is little obvious concession to the standard structure of a story, the film begins with the end of an outdated mid-western radio variety show and takes us through the final show in real time, offering us an insight into the performers and crew of the show without ever patronising the audience by spoon-feeding the details of character or history.

As usual there is an ensemble cast of brilliant character actors, this time joined by Garrison Keillor as a fictionalised version of himself, all of whom inhabit their characters superbly and with a rare sense of believeability.

The heavy "Americana" music quotient means this film is not for everyone, and some will undoubtedly be frustrated by the more fantastic elements of the plot, but for fans of Altman, Keillor (who also wrote the script) or the original radio show, this will prove a wonderful treat.