(Last week was another no theatre week, but this week I wound up at three shows. One, Cooking with Elvis, won't be getting covered here due to personal familiarity with the producers, but I'd recommend it regardless. It's a bizarre play but an interesting one. The other show that I'll cover here in some detail is Priscilla which I reviewed for a magazine but...well...you'll see.)
So in exchange for sitting in the onstage seats last Friday while the cast ran most of the second act’s technical rehearsal I got free tickets to see the transfer of Spring Awakening at the Novello. This marks my third time seeing the London cast, so I’ll keep this brief because the core elements have already been discussed at length.
-The set is narrower at the Novello than at the Lyric, and the band are now partly hidden behind the onstage seats.
-The acoustics are bassier now, and have a good boom to them.
-Did you know that instead of regular stage numbering they use the show’s German title (Frühlingserwachen) to mark places?
-Sight lines are excellent, even from the rear stalls though I’d still avoid seats on the far sides.
-The night I went was filled with tech issues including a very loud and unhappy machine during the hayloft scene and an unscheduled bang in the graveyard.
-Despite this the cast pushed through, the one true sign of professionalism that night.
-Why’s that? Because except for the adults (who are constantly excellent), the acting quality has plummeted lately. While I’ll cut the cast some slack for being in a new venue and getting their changed blocking down, the book scenes were blown through, barely acted, and shrugged off. Likewise, a certain Welsh leading pair’s accents kept slipping.
-The sad thing is that Michael Mayer had flown up from getting the Vienna production through previews to supervise the transfer’s tech.
In short? Maybe go again in a month or two when things have settled down or aim for understudy days. This just nailed the burnout coffin into my Spring Awakening coffin, though, and short of going specifically with friends I believe I’ll be away from the Novello for a while.
Showing posts with label Spring Awakening. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spring Awakening. Show all posts
Friday, 27 March 2009
Sunday, 25 January 2009
CATCHING UP: Mandy/Norton/Spring
So I actually did go to quite a bit of theatre this week. However, I also had a fatal computer death from City of Heroes doing the final deed to my recalled graphics processor and making it impossible to post before Friday. Any other procrastination was, to be honest, laziness.
So first and foremost was the final performance of Mandy Patinkin’s whirlwind week in London. I’d meant to see Mr. Patinkin back in 2004 in New York but the timing didn’t work out and I missed out. To be honest, though, I didn’t really - consistency is a guarantee with the man as are overdramatic renderings of every song he does. I’m not knocking his abilities as a performer - he’s played two of my favourite roles in film (Rube in Dead Like Me and of course Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride - which he did NOT say the line from) but the Forbidden Broadway lines about Super-Frantic Hyper-Active Self-Indulgent Mandy are totally true.
That said, I still defended the man against angry audiences after who felt the set list was far too old and unfamiliar. Anybody who reads up on the man’s concerts knows exactly what they’re in for: Sondheim, more Sondheim, and classic American songbook with a focus on Tin Pan Alley and early Broadway. If you’re lucky (I wasn’t) he sings Harry Chapin.
Anyways, on to Tuesday, where I should have (but didn’t) run into the West End Whingers as we were both independently at La Cage Aux Folles to see how Graham Norton was holding up as Albin. And to be honest, they were far kinder to the man than I’m going to be - utterly horrid were both my and my companion’s opinions. He failed to land many of the jokes (this is bad for a comedy poof) and, in the words of the professional drag queen, “moved like a straight man in a dress.” He was consistently off key, out of time with the orchestra, and they significantly upped the reverb on his lowered “I Am What I Am.” At no point did I or my companion truly believe that Norton’s Albin was in love with Georges, and he was Graham Norton in a series of (very unflattering) dresses rather than a true character.
So thank goodness for Spring Awakening at the Lyric on Friday, as it was NOT “Totally Fucked” though Iwan Rheon was undoubtedly cursing out “The Bitch of Living” as he hurt his back during rehearsal and understudy Richard Southwind proclaimed “Mama Who Bore Me!” and covered Moritz for first preview. The cast are, thankfully, strong overall (minus Lucy Barker who portrays Ilse as a third-rate first-act Sally Bowles) and Christine Jones’s set fits beautifully into the Lyric’s space as does the true third star (after Sater’s book and Sheik’s music), namely Kevin Adams’s beautiful, breathtaking lighting designs. While a West End transfer is all but announced, book now and see it in the more intimate space and at a lower price. I’d also recommend sitting in the circle - there are a few design issues which are difficult if not impossible to see from the stalls due to the high stage. Highly recommended and worth the £35 top price.
So first and foremost was the final performance of Mandy Patinkin’s whirlwind week in London. I’d meant to see Mr. Patinkin back in 2004 in New York but the timing didn’t work out and I missed out. To be honest, though, I didn’t really - consistency is a guarantee with the man as are overdramatic renderings of every song he does. I’m not knocking his abilities as a performer - he’s played two of my favourite roles in film (Rube in Dead Like Me and of course Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride - which he did NOT say the line from) but the Forbidden Broadway lines about Super-Frantic Hyper-Active Self-Indulgent Mandy are totally true.
That said, I still defended the man against angry audiences after who felt the set list was far too old and unfamiliar. Anybody who reads up on the man’s concerts knows exactly what they’re in for: Sondheim, more Sondheim, and classic American songbook with a focus on Tin Pan Alley and early Broadway. If you’re lucky (I wasn’t) he sings Harry Chapin.
Anyways, on to Tuesday, where I should have (but didn’t) run into the West End Whingers as we were both independently at La Cage Aux Folles to see how Graham Norton was holding up as Albin. And to be honest, they were far kinder to the man than I’m going to be - utterly horrid were both my and my companion’s opinions. He failed to land many of the jokes (this is bad for a comedy poof) and, in the words of the professional drag queen, “moved like a straight man in a dress.” He was consistently off key, out of time with the orchestra, and they significantly upped the reverb on his lowered “I Am What I Am.” At no point did I or my companion truly believe that Norton’s Albin was in love with Georges, and he was Graham Norton in a series of (very unflattering) dresses rather than a true character.
So thank goodness for Spring Awakening at the Lyric on Friday, as it was NOT “Totally Fucked” though Iwan Rheon was undoubtedly cursing out “The Bitch of Living” as he hurt his back during rehearsal and understudy Richard Southwind proclaimed “Mama Who Bore Me!” and covered Moritz for first preview. The cast are, thankfully, strong overall (minus Lucy Barker who portrays Ilse as a third-rate first-act Sally Bowles) and Christine Jones’s set fits beautifully into the Lyric’s space as does the true third star (after Sater’s book and Sheik’s music), namely Kevin Adams’s beautiful, breathtaking lighting designs. While a West End transfer is all but announced, book now and see it in the more intimate space and at a lower price. I’d also recommend sitting in the circle - there are a few design issues which are difficult if not impossible to see from the stalls due to the high stage. Highly recommended and worth the £35 top price.
Sunday, 13 April 2008
REVIEW: "I Saw Myself"
(A delayed review, but one clocking in at under 350 words.)
The Wrestling School (Not really a school but a collective of RSC/Royal Court/RADA grads surrounding playwright Howard Barker) bring their mentor’s newest work to their alma matter in the form of a 2.5 hours on war, infidelity, and needlepoint.
Yes. Needlepoint.
Sleev, a well to do Mrs. Robinson figure loses the husband she has never been faithful to in the war. As is traditional in her time and place, she and her maids (a crone and two silly young things) must complete a tapestry full of the story of the deceased and his life. Breaking tradition, Sleev dictates the main story should be a reflection of her infidelity and lies. For 2.5 hours the women talk, abuse Sleev’s daughter, discuss the symbolism of tapestry, lose their eyesight, talk about the past, discuss the symbolism of tapestry, talk Genesis (the biblical book, not the band), fear the approaching war, and talk tapestry. One could say it’s a big bible banging stitch ‘n’ bitch.
There’s also cock. A lot of cock. Y’see, Sleev’s hiding a rather attractive naked man in her wardrobe whom she worships while fucking her daughter’s husband on the side. In order to express her own desire to be the dominated one, Sleev sends her husband to find an unattractive man to control her. When her adonis is called up for service (he later returns in the lower half of a late 19th century uniform looking as attractive, if not more, than ever), her condition deteriorates. Unfortunately, when the handsome one returns, we find that the character is far more interesting when silent - he has a never-ending speech where one wishes he’d just shut up and start killing people.
The RZ is making light of this work, which does deserve some serious thought. There’s a lot of dense and worthy ideas packed in here, but the delivery is in a dull and unengaging way which comes off as a Victorian or Edwardian piece with some sharp one-liners piercing the drama rather than today’s fast moving methodology.
Where: RADA/Jerwood Vanbrugh Theatre
When: Until 19 Apr. M-Sa @ 19:30, 19 Apr @ 15:00
How Much: £18 General Admission
Concessions: £10 for usuals, £8 for RADA students
----------------------
RZ Unofficial Worth Paying: £10. Add a few if you’re really in the mood for a brain buster evening or for a cheaper evening than a seedy club in Soho.
RZ Other Notes: The nudity ends at the interval. In seriousness, this is a play that takes time to digest. It’s not an easy work, in part because it drags (especially at the end), but also because there is so much discussion of symbolism and allegory to warfare, sexual fidelity, identity, feminism, etc. This is not a “fun night out play”, but an “I go to the theatre to think” play.
Also, permitting the spoiler, when the attractive man in uniform returns, Sleev begs him to fuck her. When he refuses, she offers her blind person’s cane (the RZ is awful for not knowing the proper title) and grovels for him to beat her instead. All the RZ could think of during said sequence was Forbidden Broadway’s parody of the similar scene in Spring Awakening.
Wendla: “My supporting castmate tells me her father beats her with a broomstick every night. And since I’ve never been beaten I don’t know what it feels like. So would you beat me with a great big stick?”
Melchior: “I couldn’t!”
Wendla: “Pleeeeeeeaaaaaaaasssssseeee?”
Melchior: “OK! Like this? (feeble smack)”
Wendla: “Put your back into it, you sissy...”
The Wrestling School (Not really a school but a collective of RSC/Royal Court/RADA grads surrounding playwright Howard Barker) bring their mentor’s newest work to their alma matter in the form of a 2.5 hours on war, infidelity, and needlepoint.
Yes. Needlepoint.
Sleev, a well to do Mrs. Robinson figure loses the husband she has never been faithful to in the war. As is traditional in her time and place, she and her maids (a crone and two silly young things) must complete a tapestry full of the story of the deceased and his life. Breaking tradition, Sleev dictates the main story should be a reflection of her infidelity and lies. For 2.5 hours the women talk, abuse Sleev’s daughter, discuss the symbolism of tapestry, lose their eyesight, talk about the past, discuss the symbolism of tapestry, talk Genesis (the biblical book, not the band), fear the approaching war, and talk tapestry. One could say it’s a big bible banging stitch ‘n’ bitch.
There’s also cock. A lot of cock. Y’see, Sleev’s hiding a rather attractive naked man in her wardrobe whom she worships while fucking her daughter’s husband on the side. In order to express her own desire to be the dominated one, Sleev sends her husband to find an unattractive man to control her. When her adonis is called up for service (he later returns in the lower half of a late 19th century uniform looking as attractive, if not more, than ever), her condition deteriorates. Unfortunately, when the handsome one returns, we find that the character is far more interesting when silent - he has a never-ending speech where one wishes he’d just shut up and start killing people.
The RZ is making light of this work, which does deserve some serious thought. There’s a lot of dense and worthy ideas packed in here, but the delivery is in a dull and unengaging way which comes off as a Victorian or Edwardian piece with some sharp one-liners piercing the drama rather than today’s fast moving methodology.
Where: RADA/Jerwood Vanbrugh Theatre
When: Until 19 Apr. M-Sa @ 19:30, 19 Apr @ 15:00
How Much: £18 General Admission
Concessions: £10 for usuals, £8 for RADA students
----------------------
RZ Unofficial Worth Paying: £10. Add a few if you’re really in the mood for a brain buster evening or for a cheaper evening than a seedy club in Soho.
RZ Other Notes: The nudity ends at the interval. In seriousness, this is a play that takes time to digest. It’s not an easy work, in part because it drags (especially at the end), but also because there is so much discussion of symbolism and allegory to warfare, sexual fidelity, identity, feminism, etc. This is not a “fun night out play”, but an “I go to the theatre to think” play.
Also, permitting the spoiler, when the attractive man in uniform returns, Sleev begs him to fuck her. When he refuses, she offers her blind person’s cane (the RZ is awful for not knowing the proper title) and grovels for him to beat her instead. All the RZ could think of during said sequence was Forbidden Broadway’s parody of the similar scene in Spring Awakening.
Wendla: “My supporting castmate tells me her father beats her with a broomstick every night. And since I’ve never been beaten I don’t know what it feels like. So would you beat me with a great big stick?”
Melchior: “I couldn’t!”
Wendla: “Pleeeeeeeaaaaaaaasssssseeee?”
Melchior: “OK! Like this? (feeble smack)”
Wendla: “Put your back into it, you sissy...”
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