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Somewhere that's green: Potty the Plant at Wiltons Music Hall

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"I'm Potty the Plant," sings a potted plant in this odd little fringe concept of a show. It's hard not to get the tune out of your head, even if the show is brief. It's an earworm for a show that features a worm-like plant as a puppet. And given the show's brevity, running at only an hour, it's hard to get too annoyed by a lack of a coherent story, even if it still seems like the show could use a bit more development (which is underway). It has made its London debut at Wilton's Music Hall. The premise is that Potty, the plant, lives in the hospital office of Dr Acula (geddit?) and dreams of a life with the cleaning lady Miss Lacey (Lucy Appleton). But Dr Acula might be responsible for why all these children are disappearing while trying to romance Miss Lacey for her family's money that she doesn't have. Three nurses are on the case, trying to solve the mystery.  If the show settled on a convincing plot, location and set of characters, it could ...

Theatre in progress: The Menu

Friday night I caught a "work in progress" at the National Theatre called "The Menu". It is what they are referring to as a scratch performance where in essence they are workshopping a new piece but with an audience. There were enough disclaimers to lower anybody's expectations about what we were about to see but in essence it wasn't that bad. Sure the production was unfinished and there were enough subplots to drive anyone crazy (and some scenes didn't make any sense) but there is the potential there in this play set in the not too distant future Britain, where suicide bombings and lack of liberty are the norm. I thought the satire on the future (newsflash: Prince Harry was reprimanded today for wearing a fake Muslim beard) worked better than the love triangle between the three leads, but others with me went along with it all.

I enticed people to come to it on the premise that it could be the next masterpiece to come out of the National. I don't think we saw the beginnings of Chekhov on Friday night but it could have been a whole lot worse…

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