Theatre: Once Upon A Time At the Adelphi

Last week I was watching Paint Never Dries at the Adelphi Theatre wondering if this is what passes for British musical theatre nowadays, maybe I should avoid it in future. This week I was at the Union Theatre watching Once Upon A Time At The Adelphi, which despite the overlong title (and perhaps an overlong second half), was enough to make me change my mind. There may be no projections or intricate melodies, but at least there is a coherent story and a series of characters that you could at least care about.

The musical, by Phil Willmott, is set at the Adelphi Hotel in Liverpool, which has been the source of many great stories, such as Roy Rogers taking his horse, Trigger, on the roof for some exercise or Hitler working in the kitchen. The action moves between the present day and 1930s. While it is more melodrama than drama, there is an emotional heart in it all, that had me hooked right up to the ending. And dare I say... It will leave you with a slightly misty-eyed view of Liverpool. Anything that makes you feel anything other than contempt for that city surely must be evidence of the power of theatre at work...

While the show might have benefited from a lavish production budget, there is enough fine singing and energy in this show (particularly with Andrew Wright's choreography) that you will forget that you are at the Fringe. Don't sit on the front row though as those high kicks really are something...

The musical is having its London premiere at the Union Theatre in Southwark, which is a great little reclaimed space under the railway arches and full of character... Although you do have to watch your step as one theatre luvvy made a less than grand entrance falling over some chairs upon arrival. This may not have been the attention he was craving for.

The programme notes that after its successful run in Liverpool while it was European Capital of Culture, there were plans to take it elsewhere... But they never eventuated. It is great to see that it has made its way to London eventually... It runs through this month.

Nights out: Show Off

London has never really done the piano bar... They are good at doing the rough bar, the noisy bar, the bar where everyone used to be hip but now look weathered, the bar with too much wallpaper but never a bar where there is just a piano and a singer... And an open mic... So Saturday nights may not ever be quite the same again after the inaugural Show Off Piano Bar, downstairs at the Cafe Koha behind Leicester Square Tube on Charing Cross Road. The lovely Nathan Martin and Marissa Dunlop entertained and then coerced (at least some) of the bar patrons up to the piano to sing. The standard was pretty good too... Particularly after a few drinks...

With such a wide selection of sheet music flying about the bar, finding a song in low level lighting wasn't the easiest of things to do but I did make do with a little number from The Producers. Show tunes did abound strangely enough but they weren't essential. An awfully sensible way to start (or end) a Saturday night. The next one is on 27 March. Given the venue is a little on the intimate side, you can reserve your place so you don't miss out...

Theatre: Love Never Dies

I had the opportunity to catch a preview of Love Never Dies, the sequel to Phantom of the Opera, Friday  night at the Adelphi Theatre in the West End. It is the show with the really creepy artwork that is starting to appear around town, and which has its opening night this week...

I have yet to get around to seeing Phantom on stage, but I would like to think that I know enough about the story and the music to make sense of any follow up. I also recall many years ago playing the Michael Crawford and Sarah Brightman cast recording on a family road trip which caused my grandmother to throw up. The free association of the show with grandma's sick probably hasn't incentivised me to rush out and grab a ticket.

Anyway arriving tonight at the theatre with Johnnyfox there was a buzz of activity. It was either excitement, or the sounds of people scrambling to pick up tickets from the shambolic box office. Normally at one minute to the curtain up you don't see a line of people stretching to outside the theatre waiting to pick up tickets, but someone was mumbling about problems due to the first night cancellation. The delay gave me a chance to observe the audience, which seemed to mostly consist of gay men and their mothers. I think this is a wonderful trend as it relieves straight men from having to endure what passes for musical theatre these days, but perhaps a sad indictment of what mothers will let their gay sons take them to.

The show starts with a great opening number full of spectacle and a little bit of excitement. It is Coney Island New York at the turn of last century and the Phantom is there running a show. It must be a bit of a come down from the Paris Opera but he doesn't seem to mind much. But after the opening number we then start getting hit with the plot... And there is plenty of it. This is a sequel like Jewel of the Nile is to Romancing the Stone. It's kind of nice to see the characters again but you still are left wondering what's the point of it all. It would have helped if there was some comic relief or greater sense of spectacle. Instead we get marital problems, drinking and scene with the Phantom and Christine's son (complete with some chimp-like creature), that had me wondering if this was what it was like at Michael Jackson's ranch...

By the time intermission limped around (after some dramatic jacket throwing down the stairs by Madame Giry), it all felt a bit gloomy and I was grateful for the opportunity for a drink.


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Returning after intermission, following a robust discussion about the merits of a movie version of the musical Cats and whether Sidney Poitier should direct it, I had high hopes for a change of pace. There was less exposition thankfully, but there was plenty more gloom. Who could have known that Coney Island could be so dreary? The drama hinges on will Christine go on stage or not to sing a song the Phantom has written for her...  So there isn't much tension... Given she is a performer... And we're watching a musical...

The music is pretty much the standard to be expected from Andrew Lloyd Webber, which people either love or hate. I think it was the title song that reminded me of main theme to the movie The Apartment (albeit without a satisfactory resolution). It doesn't help that most of the music doesn't seem to be written to showcase the vocal talents of the cast (or be in their range). Sierra Bogges, who plays Christine, has a lovely soprano voice. Too bad that she is often forced to sing in some gravelly register. The music and the amplification felt as if it gets in the way of the performances. The lyrics and libretto deserve particular ridicule for their basic rhyming or pointing out the bleeding obvious.

But even if love never dies, all shows do end. The audience leapt to their feet with applause. I was less enthusiastic. Some minor tweaks, including fixing some technical issues and delivering a proper end to the first act, might help with the pacing of this show. It would also help to have it lit so you could see the actors faces. Still, I suspect that Ken Mandelbaum's observations that no musical sequels have ever worked still holds true.

All told however I wonder (and the spoilers are below) if there is a long term audience for a show that kills the leading lady, makes the hero of the first show an alcoholic, and turns Christine's best friend Meg into a mad crazy woman. What is left is Phantom and son...  It might run as a double act on Coney Island... Who knows what the public would like these days? A night out at the theatre strictly for those who just can't help themselves to find out what happened to Christine, Raoul, Madame Giry and the Phantom... I couldn't quite work out what happens to Meg Giry, apart from going a little crazy...

I think she should throw herself off the pier at the end (there's plenty of time to do it)... It might give us all a bit of a thrill...

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In other news in London

East London Advertiser
Originally uploaded by LoopZilla
You have to watch out for those birds...

Theatre: Hobson's Choice

At the end of Tuesday night's performance of Hobson's Choice at the Broadway Theatre in Catford, the woman behind us leaned over and said to Johnnyfox and myself, "You two are terrible..." I was thinking, hmm wasn't that exactly what the ladies at the Gatehouse said when we saw the high furniture removal production of High Society?

Well naturally anything with the slightest double entendre is going to make us titter, so lines like "I like a man who's good with their fingers" is naturally going to lead to trouble. Of course this woman's mind also was in low places; she was the lone person laughing following the line that mentioned something vaguely about finishing up your work before you come (to bed).

Schoolboy antics aside, this is a great production of the Harold Brighouse play, briskly paced and acted well. Oh and it is directed by Thom Southerland who always manages to make a show look great in a tight space.

Written in 1914 and set in 1880, it is easy to forget that this play was from another time when I suspect the audience would have had a lot more sympathy for the lead character Hobson, the bootmaker. As a widow, he has to contend with trying to find husbands for two of his three daughters. His oldest daughter, Maggie, he considers too plain and old to marry. But she still has her uses by looking after the day-to-day running of the business. An opportunity arises for Maggie to change her circumstances and there unfolds the play.

While it is quite funny (even intentionally), it also has some interesting observations about life in Salford, the role of women, class, values and aspirations that would become quite commonplace in modern Britain. It is probably testament to how good this play is that Johnnyfox and I felt like discussing these sensible matters after the play at Catford Station waiting for the 22:32 train back to Victoria. We might have discussed it at the bar afterwards if it were open. The only thing open nearby was the Catford Chippy so it seemed wise to head back into London.

Catford is only a ten minute trip from London Bridge, so it was definitely worth the trip. Drink up at interval...

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Theatre: Bette Bourne and Mark Ravenhill

I finally managed to catch Bette Bourne and Mark Ravenhill: A Life in Three Acts at the Soho Theatre on Friday night before it finished its run this weekend. It is part reading, part conversation, part cheap laughs, part oral history of the gay liberation movement in London and (on Friday night at least), part watching members of the audience get up and go to the toilet and watching Ravenhill give his death stare at them when the returned. Maybe it was the wind chill and happy hour at the bar that kept sending so many people out of the theatre... None of them were particularly light on their feet either.

Still, this is a great night out and here's hoping this isn't the last time this is seen. Bourne who is now 70 and living in a housing estate in Notting Hill has loads of stories to tell. Over his years he performed at the Old Vic, set up a squat with drag queens and appeared on the BBC. He also found particular fame in the gay community with his cabaret troupe, Bloolips. The adventures from his early years are enough to make you wonder whether the bad old days of oppression, blackmail, running from police on horseback on Hampstead Heath and the like were really all that bad.

He also recounts his first performance as a youngster singing "Don't go under the apple tree" in Hackney and his singing and dancing is a highlight. So was his story about how people in Notting Hill react to him today, where on the street markets he is a bit of colour and the traders speak to him as if he is a mate. Away from the theatre of the street however he is ignored. And who said that it's only show business that is superficial...

Music: Oklahomo

It's hard not to like a show that is under ninety minutes but Far From Kansas from the London Gay Men's Chorus was doing another encore performance of last year's Edinburgh Fringe Fest show, Oklahomo. Fine singing and gingham shirts abounded... Sometimes even in the audience. They take the show shortly to Dublin...

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Theatre: Ghosts

The last play I saw in the Duchess Theatre was about cottaging with Sir John Gielgud, and now I was there watching a play about syphilis. It is enough to make you wonder about what you might pick up from going out to the theatre. Fortunately this time around at the Duchess Theatre the play was Ibsen's Ghosts. Ghosts tells the story of a woman whose husband was a bit of a dirty man and died early, and how she has to deal with her son going the same way thanks to congenital syphilis. Meanwhile to put all this behind her she has decided to open an orphanage on her property.

That all seems fairly straight forward but I couldn't help but think that this once-scandalous play seemed a bit of a mild affair. The characters seemed as irritated with the weather as the sexual depravity so it was a bit hard to put it all in perspective.

Still it is entertaining enough an evening to watch Lesley Sharp and Iain Glen spar about virtuous and noble lives. And the simple set is lovely to look at. Just don't suggest to go see if with friends who you know are filthy bastards... They might see it as all too depressing. It runs until mid May.

Scenes from Bank Tube Station Stairwell

IMG_1506, originally uploaded by Paul-in-London.

I think it was chicken, not human...

Scenes from a bar wall in Covent Garden

IMG_1505, originally uploaded by Paul-in-London.

Now there's a date for the diary...

Seven observations on Megan Mullally's First Night in London

1. Not counting the West End Whingers and friends, the audience for Megan Mullally and Supreme Music Program appears to be a mix of gay men and their mothers. And lesbians. Some lesbians even brought banners to unfurl during an opportune moment. Here's hoping this is a new trend in the West End for lesbians with banners amongst the audience, particularly if they help performers feel less nervous...
2. When she sings George Jone's The Grand Tour, a song about a man who finds his wife has left him and taken their child, it brought the house down. She sings the song from the point of view of the man, as originally written which went down well with the audience... It's not really lesbian music, but it could be.
3. The band sounds great and the choice of music is refreshing with a mix that isn't old standards or songs from shows she has been in...
4. The show promotes her Will and Grace fame to get the punters through the door, and then delivers an evening of great and lacklustre performances of songs of death and despair. So it was understandable that some in the audience felt cheated. The voice is always there though even if Megan isn't...
5. Given nowadays you're lucky to have performers on stage sober and singing in tune (last night's Brit Awards spring to mind), I had lower expectations than to think we would be getting music with a performance, a nice outfit, flattering lighting or coherent explanations about the origins of the music.
6. Could somebody please can listen to her anecdotes and then write them down in a script that she can learn?
7. I must learn how to pronounce her name at some point... particularly if trying to make Audioboos while holding a gin and tonic...

Movies: A Single Man

Some movies just linger in the mind a few days after seeing them. The none-too-subtle use of colour, period setting and innuendo in Tom Ford's A Single Man is one of these. Watching a movie set in 1962 in a the Chelsea Cinema, which has kept its retro 1973 interiors largely intact, also aided with the atmosphere. It's as if you could be part of the film, living in Colin Firth's lovely glass house thinking about topping yourself. Well who knew that suicide could be so stylish and sophisticated? It was hard to believe anybody in this film could be suffering in any way given they wore such lovely Tom Ford clothes and had such tight skin pores, but if you suspend disbelief about the story and go along for the lesson in style, it is a trip worth taking. Have made a mental note I need a facial though...

Music: Intermission at Megan Mullally

Amongst the gin and tonics and the noise we pass judgement on Tuesday night's performance...

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Theatre: Cat On A Hot Tin Roof

This week I finally caught up with Cat On A Hot Tin Roof that has been playing for a while. Directed by Debbie Allen, the all-black cast in Tenessee William's play about Brick, a man who is sexually ambivalent about his wife Maggie, while visiting his family estate in Mississippi. Given that Brick is played by Adrian Lester and the show opens with him taking a shower you could appreciate why she is a little frustrated by this scenario. The audience the night I saw it became a little frisky after this opening scene as well...

It's not my favourite Tenessee William's play and there is way too much exposition and labouring on about Maggie being like a cat... On a tin roof... That was hot... It was hard to buy Lester as an alcoholic either mourning over the loss of his dead friend or on the down-low. More convincing was that he was pissed off rather than pissed with his moody looks and occasional throwing of his crutch...

Still it was an entertaining production, particularly with the sharp second act where Brick and Big Daddy (James Earl Jones) trade barbs and confront the truth. In the end though, particularly with an overlong third act it was hard to work out what the central message is. Maybe it is large tracts of land can conceal anything... It runs until April...