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Sleight of hand: The Fabulist @charingcrossthr

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Billed as a musical comedy, The Fabulist is actually a rare chance to see Giovanni Paisiello’s rarely performed light opera, The Imaginary Astrologers , translated and updated to Mussolini’s Italy. With sublime music, fine singing and a bit of additional silliness thrown in for good measure, it’s a welcome addition to the choices available on the West End. It’s currently playing at Charing Cross Theatre . In this update, the action moved to Italy in 1929. A magician (or, as he prefers to be called, Fabulist), Julian is on the run from both the fascists and the Catholic Church. On the run, he stumbles on a film shoot and dazzles the screenwriter Clarice with his charm while her sister tries to complete a series of mildly subversive historical films. What will win in a battle of ideas between science and magic, the church and the Fabulist? It’s an evening of light operatic comedy, so there are no prizes for guessing.  Experts in clerical fascism and fascist mysticism may find some of the

The generation gap as an overlong play: Love, Love, Love

Love, Love, Love by Mike Bartlett is now playing at the Royal Court . It's an epic drama about Kenneth and Sandra who meet in the sixties and start a fiery relationship. They have two children, divorce and then retire. But all is not well and it is the harsh economic realities that become the focus of the play. It has some sort of impact as people were filing out of the theatre Saturday night muttering amongst themselves, "Oh well, we will have to buy our children a house" or "I'm never going to be able to afford to buy on my salary". A play that tackles the theme of the baby boomer generation as the locust generation is an interesting premise. But at three hours you will leave the theatre wondering if they could have made it shorter and called it Love, Love. As one particularly loud American couple noted in the foyer after the first act, it was fifty minutes that could have been told in five. The characters and more caricatures and there are no real s