'Macbeth', National Theatre of Scotland, Tramway, Glasgow, 15/6/12

Touted as a one-man performance of the Scottish play by a well known Scot in Scotland's second city this production of Macbeth is rather hit and miss.
The setting by Merle Hensel is some sort of cell or ward within a mental institution complete with tiled walls, security cameras and a steel staircase to the secured door and this reminded me of the hospital setting used a few years back in a production that featured Patrick Stewart in the title role. Here we have Alan Cumming playing almost all the roles and speaking the majority of Shakespeare's lines.
The concept is one of the things that work completely; indeed the concept itself seems confused - was this man who we see confined to this ward part of the events he replays in his mind or is he so utterly delusional that he creates the play complete within himself (albeit with the addition of props that are either part of the 'evidence' that come with him or just happen to lie about the stage)? Beyond the man himself there is the doctor and orderly who infiltrate his delusions - what is there purpose?

The production starts slowly and I tended to drag at times in the first half. Once Macbeth's ascent to power is completed and his descent begins things move along at a more appropriate pace, thankfully. Throughout the sound effects and music were a constant and often annoying presence and were clearly used to set mood and effect, as was the constant variation of lighting; sometimes it seemed barely a minute would pass before the next lighting cue was executed. This rushed execution was also given to the text, which was quite truncated, and often seemed to be rushed through virtually eliminating the power and rhythm of most of the words. I must note that I felt most of the issues I had in this regard are with the directors John Tiffany and Andrew Goldberg rather than with Cumming himself. Cumming showed instances of brilliance in some of his many portrayals although they could often be so confused that a familiarity with the plot, if not the text, is essential. It is also a shame that the directors elected to, wittingly or not, play down the gravitas of Macbeth and the actions preceding his rise to power and replace them often with a comedic spin. The better performance that Cumming ultimately gave was as the man (whom Cumming has apparently named 'Fred' as you can read here) who we see glimpses of between his delusional states. 'Fred''s breakdowns and wistful moments are indeed poignant and wrenching and show that Cumming is capable of so much more than he is given the chance to do here.
Because of the difficulty in distinguishing between characters (partially intended by the directors but perhaps not to the degree that the final production offers) it is a welcome relief when the two medical staff finally utter a few lines of Shakespeare and have some sort of real interaction with the man. Here one could see a germ of what could have been from this production.

It seems to me that the high concept has outweighed the production, confused itself whilst losing relevance to the story and text. There is so much that is unnecessary in this production that it threatens to completely nullify the necessary. The setting is quite vast and while this allows much space for which Cumming to play with (movement by Christine Devaney) one wonders whether a more claustrophobic setting might not have been more effective. Likewise the seemingly endless sound by Fergus O'Hare became simply annoying. Natasha Chivers' lighting became as frivolous as a child's finger upon a light switch.
The use of security cameras, in particular in evoking the weird sisters, was one of the better aspects of the production. These cameras would show real time footage of Cumming in his cell, lulling the audience into a false sense of security, before pulling some intriguing tricks and twists upon them. Ian William Galloway (Video Designer) and Salvador Bettencourt Avila (Video Production Engineer) create a sense of unease in their use though some of the execution needs a bit of tweaking.
The mental institution idea, whilst somewhat cliche, is a valid concept but the concept that surrounds Shakespeare's play as a jacket is simply too confused and offers no real purpose in being. It asks question that are irrelevant to the Shakespeare and which are never dealt with - Who is this man? Why is he here? What has he done? What are the origins of the objects that arrive with him and that are lying about the place so randomly? It's almost as if the concept has generated a play within a play unconsciously and as such has seen no reason to answer and explore these questions which, ultimately proved at least as interesting as the story 'told' by the man.

Myra McFadyen and Ali Craig provide solid support as the medical staff and I only wish there was more interaction between the three actors. Alan Cumming, as stated above, really should have been served better by his directors and, at least for most of the duration, we are not engaged with the play and Shakespeare's text as we are the ability for someone to memorise so many words and recite them in so fast a time as he does. I have seen a few production which use the concept of a mental institute and to better and more appropriate effect.

The germ of a possibly mesmerising (and Cumming was such at many a time throughout) production is here but it has yet to take root firmly. Perhaps with further development, more interaction, more precise execution ...

A note on 'Prometheus'

Beware of SPOILERS!

A Precursor to a full review but I thought I'd jot this down nonetheless.

There are far too many questions and far too few answers. This is also the same syndrome that put me off Lost. If an audience is willing to put so much time and faith in a film or television series the creators have to acknowledge their existence and need for some closure - for answers. Not necessarily to everything but to at least something. Here we get almost no answers whatsoever. I can only hope that any future sequel solves this issue. Together with answering plot-holes(e.g. exactly what caused the holes in the engineer corpses? If it was the black oil material then surely we would have seen the same fate applied to some of the Prometheus' crew? And how can the silicone-based xenomorph evolve from the genetic material of Carbon-based life-forms? Have we to await a potential sequel for that issue to be resolved also?).

Don't get me wrong I thoroughly enjoyed the film, it looked gorgeous and had probably the best 3D I've experienced. And to be honest I wasn't exactly sure what to expect so I can't say I was disappointed in that regard. There were sufficient surprises for my liking.

I do think it unfair to compare Prometheus with Alien as the former is certainly a film independent of its source. But there are aspects that cross over: Namely the engineers and the concept of bio-mechanical life - which is never explored. In this regard the design is a bit of a let down as it appears that biological and mechanical aspects of the engineer civilisation are independent of each other. To that end one wishes that Giger had a far more active involvement beyond the murals he created which appear all to briefly - indeed they are one of the more satisfying aspects of the design.
So, if we are to believe this is a stand alone film, one simply has to concede that it is heavily flawed - albeit very enjoyable - and offers many questions but almost no explorations of those questions and certainly no answers. Perhaps we should see Prometheus as the question and the future sequel(s) as the answers.
At least I hope so.

And, yes, the proto-xenomorph was rather too Bambi-like to be satisfying and one wonders how many generations it will take before it evolves into the well-known xenomorph and in such a short period of time - Alien is set only 30/40 years beyond Prometheus.

I guess time, and Twentieth Century Fox, will tell ...

This is also worth a good listen (be warned it contains many SPOILERS and some BAD LANGUAGE): Listen

'Educating Rita', Theatre Royal, Glasgow, 31/5/12

I've never seen the film version of 'Educating Rita' so I came to the play with no expectations.

Willy Russel's play is both witty and charming and I found myself enjoying it more and more as the play progressed. The story of a working class lass who wants to be 'educated' and the man who is to educate her brings up interesting points about education and culture itself.

As 'Rita' Claire Sweeney is pretty much spot on. Her entrance immediately sets the tone of the character and she evolves effortlessly as the play progresses.
Matthew Kelly is a wonderful actor and as 'Frank' he lives and breathes each aspect that the role presents. I was most impressed by his acting skills which I'd never witnessed previously.
Tamara Harvey's direction is pretty straightforward and she is able to bring out performances that excel without having the need to create any fussy business. Her only possible misstep is at the very end when a piece of staging, where 'Rita' is to give 'Frank' a gift, seems somewhat out of step with the rest of the production.
Paul Anderson's lighting is likewise uncomplicated and functional as is Tim Shortall's design which consists of shelf upon shelf of books. The passing of time is visualised in a tree that stands outside the window; a tree that undergoes the change of the seasons.

The play is both funny, poignant and even thought provoking. Whilst the situations presented may be a trifle outdated it still stands on solid legs. My only real quibble is that I wish the transfers between scenes was smoother and speedier.

Now I must talk about theatre etiquette. The afternoon I saw this play there were many OAPs and school children in attendance. Now I believe that all members of society should see theatre and that it should be open to all. But. But I wish someone,be it a teacher or carer - whomever, had had some words with some members of these groups. Throughout the show there were numerous annoyances and distractions from the audience; children dropping cans and even coins and some elderly people talking rather loudly. We even had to put up with some people who are outright disruptive and shouting. Now in the latter case I feel that these elderly patrons were perhaps the victim of some medical condition that facilitated these acts. But surely the person or persons who accompanied these people to the theatre should take into consideration that a theatre tends to have more audience members present than themselves. And that, if it is known that a person can be disruptive, then that person should not be presented in a situation where one is expected to pay due respect to the artists onstage? As for the children - well, we all know they can be disruptive but I do wish the teachers present had taken it upon themselves to acknowledge their wards and put pay to their behaviour.

As it was Mr Kelly and Miss Sweeney ploughed on regardless for most of the play, never dropping their energy levels. However at one point where one elderly audience member was at their most disruptive Mr Kelly took it upon himself to simply stop after a suitable line and stare at the guilty party. He never once said anything to this audience member and may have seen the possible nature of the predicament. He casually waited until all had settled then resumed the play as if nothing had happened with not a single dip in the energy or pace of the play. Miss Sweeney's response was a simple reaction Mr Kelly; she quickly stole a glance in the direction toward which he were looking.

In the theatrical press instances of disruption (from those who should know better and who are certain to have all their faculties) are becoming more noted and I think that something needs to be done. Is it so hard to tell a child about, and to reinforce the idea of respect for a performer to do their job and to respect other members of the audience? Likewise those factors should be taken into account when planning a trip to a theatre; if one is aware that that respect in the form of silence and attention cannot be paid then perhaps it's best that one doesn't go in the first place.

The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one.

Rant over.





#BuckleyForBoulevard

There are many people out there, myself included, who wish that more stage musicals were adapted into film versions. Not in the way that 'Nine' was, which was nothing short of an abomination, but something more along the lines of the classics of the genre and even more modern pieces which are true to the original stage show whilst being filmic in their own way. There are so many that have graced the stages of the world over the years that have yet to find a celluloid life; 'La Cage Aux Folles', 'City Of Angels' (which is, supposedly, in development), 'Spring Awakening' (another stuck in development) and the list goes on.

Now one that I would dearly love to see on film is 'Sunset Boulevard' which, onstage, was written by Andrew Lloyd Webber, Christopher Hampton and Don Black. It boasts a great score and contains some great roles that would challenge an actor.
Since Paramount own the original film on which the show is based they no doubt retain the rights for a film version yet have made no inclination to go forward with any adaptation of the stage show. A shame because, if done well with a good director, the film could be a wonder.

Of course 'Susnet' boast one of the greatest roles for a leading woman; that of 'Norma Desmond'. Patti LuPone originated the role in London whilst Glenn Close premiered the show in America and won the Tony award for her performance (I shan't go into the backstage drama that followed since LuPone was originally to have played in America as well). Naturally it would seem that Glenn Close, being a film as well as stage star, would be the first choice for any film adaptation, though no doubt several other stars would vie for the part; Barbra Streisand, perhaps? Maybe even Bette Midler. But the one that Lloyd Webber has publicly stated he'd like to see is Madonna.
Yes, that's right; Madonna. Now, while I thought Madonna really excelled in 'Evita', which was basically all sung, I'm sure I'm not the only one who believes that Madonna is just not capable of tackling any great role that contains a lot of actual dialogue, as 'Sunset' does.

So I make the case that they should instead cast a great actress who can sing, rather than a 'name' just to sell the film (were it ever made of course). There have been quite a few over the years since the show's premiere in 1993; Petula Clark, Elaine Paige, Diahann Carroll to name a few. But the one that stands out for me is Betty Buckley who replaced LuPone in London and Close on Broadway. She is one of the premiere interpreters of song and is a Tony winner herself. She is also a solid actress. Check her out on youtube if you don't believe me.

And so it is Betty Buckley, whose onstage performance in the role drew wonderful reviews , that I, and many others, would wish to see in a film version of 'Sunset Boulevard' in the great role of 'Norma Desmond'.

To that end there is a quiet twitter campaign that is beginning to rumble away to ensure that those in the know and those in power are aware of the desires of those that matter; musical fans. The hash tag #BuckleyForBoulevard is the one to use if you agree that Hollywood should pay more attention to those who could actually do a musical role justice.

So if you're a fan of musical theatre and want a decent film with a decent actress you know what to do: #BuckleyForBoulevard
Pass it on.

#BuckleyForBoulevard

Update

Just a quick message to say to the loyal few (or one) that I am not dead.
The reason I've not posted anything of late is that I've been experiencing some medical issues. I'm also frightfully lazy which is also a bit of a hindrance.

There are things I've seen and/or read that I could have blogged about and at some point they may appear on this blog but, for now, bear with me.

Be well and happy!

Sharman

'When The Green Woods Laugh' by H. E. Bates

Another escapade featuring the Larkin family.

There is something incredibly comfortable about reading these pleasing novels: Maybe it's the days-gone-by aspect of the tales or maybe the sense of family and friendship that is imbued throughout the writing but in any case these book are such a happy read that, despite thin plots by an author seemingly more concerned with food and nature, we are still invested in the characters, despite any modern morals we may wish to apply to them.

Actually this novel has a little more plot than the last with 'Pop' Larkin encountering city folk for good and for ill. It's also a neat commentary on the attitudes of both country and city folk regarding each other. It's also a tale of the bonds that unite people and how the simple things in life are often overlooked and under-estimated by some.

The food for once, whilst still very present, takes a back seat as it were to focus more on the plot and how it entwines the characters, old and new, that populate this book.

Once again I heartily recommend this as a fine, easy going, relaxing read.

A Life Worth Reflection?

As the fibromyalgia that riddles my body continues to metamorphose, defying my attempts to 'adapt', I come to a point where I begin to ask 'what kind of a life do I actually have?' I ask what dreams and wishes I had and realise how few, if any, have been fulfilled.
This then leads me into thinking that there are and have been things that were in my control and things that were not.

As I look back I come to realise that there are so very many things that I regret; choices not taken, chances not observed and mistakes made.
I have not been one of those people who is able to see opportunity or one who is able to capitalise on any talent given me. Whilst others are able to concentrate and visualise their career goals and options, looking forward is not a strength of mine. Only when I have, say, a project on the go can I make any sort of projections. Where I am concerned I am secondary in the scheme of things.
When opportunities and the such might have shown up other things appear to have taken my attention; I drift from one thing to another, I move where fate deems to take me. At least that is what I might say. In reality not having a specific focus - only in later life has any inkling of what I want to do with my life come to me - allows other distractions to steal focus; the pursuit of love an example. And to what end? I am here ultimately alone.

Throughout my educational life it would have been much easier were I to have had a goal to work toward but I didn't. I tended to choose subjects and pursuits that I enjoyed never thinking about which may be more appropriate to help towards my goal - after all I had none! The same applied to University where I undertook a course in a subject I enjoyed but never thought would be a subject that I wanted to pursue career-wise. As it turned out I discovered, toward the very end of my degree course, that there was a part of the subject that seriously interested me and over the next few years that followed that interest became more acute until I realised that here was the goal I wish I'd had when I was a teenager. Now, progressing from my late 20s into my early 30s, I realised, with horror, that the field in which I wished to pursue a career was really one where you had to have started earlier. The chance, like many others before and since in my life, had passed.

I have said that I was blind to observing opportunity and this was (and maybe still is) true across my life; it is not just regarding a career that I am unobservant. I fail to recognise signs that a person is 'interested' in me, fail to understand when someone is offering me a lifeline. I have never wanted to take advantage of any other person and I fear that this attitude has played against me on more than one occasion.

I am not a confident person in any real applicable way. I am no great looker, have nothing but doubt in any talent I might once have possessed. I can feign confidence but when push comes to shove my true attitude comes to the fore. This can be crippling for any person irregardless of their profession or social standing and here my lack of self-belief, in anything to do with myself, is one which continues to set me back where I am always three steps behind.
It is also probably true that I am very much a coward.

And then, of course, when, in these later years, such dawning has arisen in my mind I find that a new enemy has come upon me. Fibromyalgia, an 'invisible' condition that can be looked down upon even by health care professionals, is eating away at any semblance of life I retain. The physical and emotional toil that it exudes upon me is enough to make me think that any last flickering chance I might have had to pursue the things I love has been extinguished. Here is the most pressing concern of my life - how to live with this accursed blight. The things that most take for granted - job, partner, friends - are now a distant shadow to me.

Living is different to existing and for these past few years I have only really been able to do the latter.
As I watch my social and professional life flit away (the latter well before the former) there are moments of brief despair. But I continue to try to 'adapt' though with little success as the condition continues to evolve, change and assume lordship over me. I am subject to its whims and were I to rebel it would always be at a dear cost.

So these are factors that come to my mind when I think of 'what if?' There are aspects which I could have, for certain, taken control of but there are also the aspects over which I have no control and lately these are the more prominent. I can make no excuse for the sad state of affairs I come to find myself in but this is my curse; that I must live knowing these things. And that I will live in probable regret for ever such a long time.
Even my dreams are torture to me.

I see myself for what I am. That is all. At least I am not blind to that.

I believe I shall be one of those whose greatest achievements are well behind them and to die will be an awful big adventure.

'A Breath Of French Air' by H. E. Bates

The second novel to feature the Larkin clan is very much in the same vein as the first though, this time, the Larkins relocate to France for a month long vacation.

The plot is primarily made up of the family encountering foreign foods and customs which, naturally, irk them. Of course, the Larkin charm is ever present and ultimately wins over the doubting hotel staff who, initially, are taken aback by the English customs as displayed by the Larkin family.

The story isn't as well paced as 'The Darling Buds Of May' but the jolly cheer, jovial attitudes and indulgence of food is all still there making this still a pleasant read. The 'fish out of water' aspect is also refreshing so it is not simply a mere retread of things we've read before.
The characters still come alive off the page and, with the previous book, one feels satisfied when reading.

I'm looking forward to reading the next volume in the Larkin saga.