As promise a recap of my London theatre orgy:
I timed the trip so we could catch AUGUST: OSAGE COUNTY with the original Steppenwolf cast at the National Theatre with my old theatre colleague, Tony-winning Deanna Dunagan in it. She and it were magnificent. It turned out we were staying in the same hotel as the cast, so we had a couple of chances to chat, usually going to or from the theatre. And on our last night there, Deanna, The Lovely Wife, and I all went to see The Pitman Painters at the National. In fact, of the eleven shows we saw, five were at the National.
Both The War Horse, a exquisite epic that utuilized intricate puppetry as well as actors, and Tom Stoppard's rarely performed collaboration with Andre Previn, Every Good Boy Deserves Favour, a fully staged play with a full orchestra, were also grand and moving pieces of theatre. Toby Jones starred in the latter.
The only absolute dog we saw...which almost never happens at the National...was Mrs. Affleck -- a reworking and updating to the fifties of Ibsen's Little Eyolf. I like Ibsen a lot and this play in particular. This rewritten updating neither further illuminated Ibsen's original nor brought any particular insight to the fifties era it was set in. I found it also badly staged with a cumbersome set. The preview night I saw it, I watched the set-change which was supposed to be done during a fifteen
minute interval. It took twenty-five and seemed more like a set strike than set change.
The Old Vic's production of a new play called COMPLICIT, directed by Kevin Spacey and starring Richard Dreyfuss, Maureen McGovern, and David Suchet, got raked over the coals by the critics. I didn't think it was as bad as all that and liked the message of the play and, particularly, the second half. Despite wearing a visible ear-piece where he was being fed as-yet-unlearned lines, Richard Dreyfuss was okay, very Dreyfuss, and moving and effective in the climax of the play. McGovern was too young to play his wife and wasted in an underwritten part. Acting honours went to Suchet. Spacey had converted the Old Vic into a theatre in the round and it was an interesting, intimate space. Despite the Old Vic's great history and consistently great work ; I've always found the space a bit unintimate and the sightlines troubling in its original configuration.
We saw two Joe Orton plays, LOOT, starring the terrific David Haig, and ENTERTAINING, MR. SLOANE, starring the equally terrific Imelda Staunton. I'd never seen either onstage before and enjoyed both. In SLOANE, Ms. Staunton came on at one point in the sheerest of nighties, displaying all her charms and fluffy bits. Tres daring.
We saw a new play at the Donmar written by and starring Ian McDiarmid (The Emperor in all the Star Wars movies) called BE NEAR ME. After a first act with two characters doing impenetrable Scottish slang accents of which only every third sentence was understood, the play really came on and centered around McDiarmid's charming, funny, sad performance. Certainly worth the price of the ticket.
Two Shakespeares rounded out the bill. Oddly enough, they are the two plays I have seen more than any other, could care less if I ever see again, and don't find the epitome of Shakespeare to begin with. Both, however, were delightful. The first was Twelfth Night with Derek Jacobi playing Malvolio, assisted ably by several other actors we've seen frequently over there -- Ron Cook, Guy Henry, and Victoria Hamilton, not household names here, but very respected over there. While sturdily done and perfectly enjoyable, I suspect the reason it didn't kick me in the butt was my indifference to the play in general. The second Shakespeare was an RSC production of Midsummer Night's Dream, which was magically done. They made the usually tedious lovers interesting and fun, the 'rude mechanicals' were quite amusing, and the array of faeries mischievous and real characters.
Alas, all that said, London...while still the greatest city in the world...gets to looking like an American Mall a bit more every time I go. The block of Charing Cross road that used to be nothing but used bookstores has now replaced many of those bookshops with a Subway or a Quiznos or a coffee shop (sometimes a Starbucks, sometimes a British franchise). I've never seen so many sandwich and coffee shops. If you don't like a particular one, go two doors down and you'll find another. Several of my Favourite bookstores have disappeared all over London (and another is about to go online), as have so many quirky little shops replaced by dull franchise stores or eatries, far too many of them American brands. Thankfully, Cecil Court (and BK's and my friend, Nigel Williams) remains pretty much intact and seems to have added a few refugee bookshops from other places around town.
If it hadn't been for the National, the West End would have been pretty dismal. I fear it's looking more like Broadway all the time. We saw nothing in Shaftsbury Avenue this trip, because there was nothing worth seeing. Merely an array of tired musical revivals, comedian one-man shows, and dreary rockish musicals. In the weekly theatre guide, I counted 26 musicals to 11 straight shows...most of those musicals were tedious, tired crap like Stomp; We Will Rock You; Diry Dancing; Les Miz; or inervating revivals of Grease; Sound of Music; Phantom; Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat. And then there are the long runs like Chicago -- come on already, the movie came out years ago! I'm so tired of long runs that should have been shuttered eons ago, bad rock musicals, and musicals made from movies. Thank God for the RSC and the National!
