CABE design review of Sky Gardens

The Commission for Architecture and the Built Environment has published a Design Review of Sky Gardens with some interesting reservations. I don't know if it has any power or not. Doesn't sound like it.

http://www.cabe.org.uk/design-review/vauxhall-sky-gardens-2

West End Whingers transfer

West End Whingers have fallen out. Not with each other, but with this blogging platform. They have transferred to http://www.westendwhingers.wordpress.com. Do please come and visit us there where we have more room to whinge and better lighting. This venue will remain dark for the foreseeable future.

Frobisher's Gold

Please note that West End Whingers have moved to http://westendwhingers.wordpress.com. You are currently reading an old version of the site. As Elizabethan explorer Sir Martin Frobisher was searching for the (then) theoretical Northwest Passage, he discovered a marvellous black mineral from which he was convinced gold could be extracted. He transported it back to England in copious quantities, only to find that "Frobisher's Gold" - although quite sparkly - was worthless. And so it was that the West End Whingers were gifted of a hook for their review when they sat through two-and-a-half hours of Frobisher's Gold at the Shaw Theatre in the heart of London's glamorous Euston Road. In actual fact, Phil was spared this experience. Andrew took along would-be whinger Neil just to check that the whingers haven't lost the plot when it comes to theatre criticism - can they really have seen so much rubbish at the theatre? But Andrew is pleased to report that all is well with the WEW dramatic compass which does indeed point firmly towards true crap. The play opens as a history (albeit with a free sprinkling of anachronisms) featuring the usual Elizabethan suspects - Essex, Walsingham and in this case Frobisher - and trundles along in this manner until the interval (end of Act III!), at which point it drifts into surrealism which culminates in the major characters transforming into animals. It's all kind of explained, but in a "it was all a dream" kind of way. Frobisher's Gold was written by Fraser Grace under the patronage of Menagerie - "a leading independent producer of new writing for the stage" which only goes to reinforce Andrew's view that, on the whole, new writing should be suppressed rather than encouraged. In fact Andrew rushed home after the show to instruct his lawyers to set up an endowment to fund a foundation for this very purpose. Poor Janet Suzman - remember her from the film Nicholas & Alexandra and the seventies TV series Clayhanger? She's an excellent actress and her performance as Elizabeth I rises far above the material. But one imagines her next gig as Volumnia in Coriolanus (which will round off the RSC's Complete Works Festival) can't come round soon enough for her. The costumes, sets and make-up don't help. They put Andrew in mind of a university dramasoc production. Actually, this production might have worked quite well in the informal intimacy of a pub theatre, but the Shaw Theatre is too large to do anything other than show this production up as rather tatty and low-budget. So, was it value for money? Andrew and Neil paid just £10 for the tickets which they thought was worth paying to see the woefully underexposed Suzman. But when Elizabeth reprises herutterancee that "underachievement" bugs her (yes, Elizabeth uses words like "bug") at least two people in the audience could be seen nodding gravely in sympathy.

It pays to whinge at Wicked

Please note that West End Whingers have moved to http://westendwhingers.wordpress.com. You are currently reading an old version of the site. Like the West End Whingers, fellow theatre-goers and would-be whingers Simon and Nick found themselves at the very end of row C in the stalls at Wicked. Problems similar to those experienced by Phil and Andrew ensued. They could only see the front of the stage at the best of times and when cast members were on the spiral staircase at the front of the stage, they couldn’t see anything except their backs. So in the interval, Nick (of whom WEW are proud) spoke with the box office manager who admitted that the tickets went on sale before they knew what the set design was, and they didn’t realise that some tickets would have a restricted view (one more tale of box office poison). The box office manager tried to insist that Nick write to the theatre manager to complain but caved in under a further onslaught of whinging to offer Simon and Nick best seats (the middle of the row with the leg-room in the stalls) for another performance. He also mentioned that they had had more than a few upset customers. So, what's the thinking going on at the box office here? "Whoops, these seats we sold at top price are actually crap. We must contact the poor people who have shelled out for them and offer some kind of recompense?" Yeah, right. That would have been the honourable thing to do; the decent thing. But you have to remember that the one thing box office people can't stand are audiences. They are scum. Fans of WEW may be wondering why practised whingers Phil and Andrew - whose seats subjected them to similar visual and aural imediments - did not kick up a fuss like Nick did? Simple. For his efforts Nick now has to sit through Wicked again. Wild horses wouldn't drag us. Not for all the tea in China. Poor Nick - hasn't he suffered enough already?

Ticket tip - Little Shop of Horrors at the Menier Chocolate Factory

Please note that West End Whingers have moved to http://westendwhingers.wordpress.com. You are currently reading an old version of the site. Far be it from the West End Whingers - for whom every purchase of a theatre ticket is a triumph of optimism over experience - to predict hot tickets for the future, but the Menier Chocolate Factory has a track record of interesting productions (Sunday in the Park with George was excellent) and a very nice bar. So it's exciting to hear that the Menier is to revive Little Shop of Horrors (previews 17th November). The West End Whingers are both fortunate enough (or old enough, depending on how you look at it) to have seen Ellen Greene play Audrey in the original London stage production and, of course, in the excellent movie version. If Sheridan Smith's voice has half the power of Greene's this could be worth seeing. Let's just hope they haven't gone down the "Audrey couldn't really sing" route which has blighted so many Cabaret productions. The role of Seymour is taken by Paul Keating (he was in Tommy and nominated for a Laurence Olivier Theatre Award for his performance in Closer to Heaven). Comedian Mike McShane (Whose Line is it Anyway) plays Audrey II. WEW know that they are almost certainly doomed to disappointment, but they are going anyway. At least they can be sure they will be able to have a good moan about the Menier's unallocated seating.

...but Andrew liked Spamalot a lot

Please note that West End Whingers have moved to http://westendwhingers.wordpress.com. You are currently reading an old version of the site. A spoof Broadway meta-musical that lampoons theatrical Jews and gays along the way. Sound familiar? Monty Python's Spamalot ("a new musical lovingly ripped off from the motion picture") doesn't have the grace, wit, or structure - nor the quality of pastiche or song - possessed by Mel Brooks' The Producers, nor it does not exude a particular love for the genre. But for an enjoyable night out at the theatre in the West End at the moment, it's pretty hard to beat. High praise indeed from a West End Whinger, but Andrew does have some empathy with Phil's lukewarm feelings for Spamalot. For a start: if you're not a big Monty Python fan, it's not nearly as funny as half the audience seems to think it is. Indeed, they laugh before the jokes which is most disconcerting. It's also true that Tim Curry as King Arthur coasts rather languidly through his role without bringing the energy or dynamism one might have expected. Thankfully the rest of the cast is strong - which it needs to be with each of the principals playing three or four roles. There's some fine singing too, particularly from Darren Southworth (Historian / Not Dead Fred / French Guard / Minstrel / Prince Herbert) and Hannah Waddingham (The Lady of the Lake) who steals the show. Waddingham - who has been in two more Ben Elton musicals than any actress should have to endure (Beautiful Game and Tonight's the Night) - has a fantastic voice and brings the house down several times. Her vocal play is fantastic - The Diva's Lament, in which she complains that she doesn't have anything to do in Act II, is excellent. So is her duet with Sir Dennis Galahad (Christopher Sieber) - The Song That Goes Like This - an amusing (if not terribly original) musical theatre parody. The songs (by Eric Idle and John Due Prez) don't really stick in the memory but they've wisely imported some ready-made goodwill in the form of "Always look on the Bright Side of Life" fromMonty Pythons' Life of Brian. Again, the audience is ahead of the show, singing along almost from the opening notes. Spamalot never bores, although bits of the second act drag somewhat - notably the over-laboured, sub-panto scene in which Prince Herbert's father instructs his dim-witted guards not to let his son leave the room. There are also some real problems with the transfer of this to the West End from Broadway. Faced with the task of putting on a West End Show, King Arthur and his knights are faced with the apparently essential corresponding task of therefore having to find Jews to take part on it. This might have worked on Broadway, but in the Palace Theatre the introduction of this theme was understandably met with bemused silence - it's simply not part of our theatre in-joke culture here. It worked in The Producers because (a) it was set on Broadway (b) Max Bialystock is Jewish and (c) Mel Brooks is Jewish. For evidence of just how half-arsed this transfer is look no further than the programme where the accompanying song is still called You Won't Succeed on Broadway, although those certainly weren't the words being sung on the stage. But these are minor gripes. Director Mike Nichols (whose films include The Graduate, Who's Afraid of Vifinia Woolf, Postcards from the Edge) puts on a terrifically busy show which, combined with Tim Hatley's first-rate set and costume designs and the presence of Tim Curry, all helps convince you that you're seeing your £60 ticket money up there on the stage. If Andrew were a lazy newspaper critic keen to have his words up outside the theatre he might say that in some ways this is the Holy Grail of musical theatre - enjoyable, funnygreat singing, lots to look at and a star. Who would have thought that there would come a time in musical theatre when such a combination would be rare enough to be worthy of comment?

Box Office Poison

Please note that West End Whingers have moved to http://westendwhingers.wordpress.com. You are currently reading an old version of the site. Cheez. What's the matter with the folks in the box offices in London? Andrew outsourced the purchasing of Spamalot tickets to his faithful friend and would-be-whinger Neil who diligently turned up at the Palace Theatre box office on the day the tickets first went on sale. "I'd like tickets for the evening of the first Saturday after Opening Night, please [for he is very polite]," he said. Imagine his dismay to realise that the tickets he had been sold turned out to be for the evening of the last Saturday before opening night. An easy mistake to make? Ummm. No. Don't think so. Not unless the box office staff are flaky or not very interested in meeting their customers' needs or hung over. So he returns to the theatre to enquire about the mistake. "When you said Opening Night, did you mean the press night?" they enquired. Well of course he did. They're the same thing. And either way, the dates are wrong. Perhaps the opening night moved? No. He received an apology of sorts. But wouldn't a free programme each or something have made all the difference? What would it have cost them? Probably about £1, despite the fact they probably charge ten times that for them.

Piano/Forte

Please note that West End Whingers have moved to http://westendwhingers.wordpress.com. You are currently reading an old version of the site. For once, West End Whingers can guarantee absolutely no plot spoilers in their review of the "unpredictable, funny and disturbing new play by Terry Johnson" (according to the Royal Court's website). There are two good reasons for this. One, the plot in the first act isn't worthy of the word. Two, we didn't see the second act. For what it's worth, the play centres around two sisters (sounds two-thirds Chekhovian, doesn't it?) and some vague metaphors concerning a lost piano key (ooh, very Chekhovian) and a murmeration of starlings (there's a whole riff on collective nouns as a substitute for sparkling dialogue, but don't worry, it's not relevant to anything). So, the plot. Repressed daughter (Alicia Witt, Zoey in the long-forgotten sit-bomb Cybill) lives a spinsterish life in her MP father's country pile with the brother of her father's second wife or something when her tediously rebellious prodigal sister Louise (Kelly Reilly) returns home with the aim of sabotaging her father's wedding to someone-or-other that he met on a reality TV show and then... Oh, we don't know. Couldn't care less about any of them and didn't believe any of it. Johnson has turned out some good work in the past (Cleo, Camping, Emmanuel and Dick, Dead Funny), but this play (well, the first half, anyway) is a turkey. It was written specially for Witt because she can actually play the piano, apparently. Can you believe that? Hey, Johnson - Andrew can rumba like a latin and Phil's got a cycling proficiency certificate. Why don't you write something for us? (But better than this) Actually, Witt's quite good, although we got the impression that most of her focus was on maintaining her English accent. Reilly (good in the past) has a very good theatrical track record (as do Oliver Cotton and Danny Webb) but there are only two dimensions to any of them. Johnson tires of the whole Chekhovian thing before the end of the first act and reverts to phalluses and acrobatics as he shifts up into his favoured pre-intermission shock-mode. On the whole, it's a charmless piece with one good gag ("I could never replace your mother" "Oh, I don't know. If I dug her up you'd probably fit quite snugly in her grave" or something), and one 20-year-old gag (the one about wanting to walk down the aisle to the song from Robin Hood). But do go see this play if you like listening to lots and lots of words, watching people you don't care about bickering or listening to people whining. Value for money? Well, the set looks very West End (Phil reads that as a sign of the Royal Court's hopes of a transfer) and the front row circle seats were just £15. But by the interval our quest for culture had given way to the call of the chianti. So we spent a further £15 on a bottle and spent the rest of the evening putting the theatrical world to rights in a restaurant off the King's Road. God, we were so much more interesting.