With a shell and everything. It was making its way across our courtyard today. Much more attractive than its cousin, the banana slug. I question what it was doing hanging out in an all-concrete courtyard in Central London, but hey, whatever floats your boat, snail.
My friend Adam is visiting at the moment from New York. Adam is probably more of a theatre nerd than I am, and also happens to be in the industry and was well-placed to get us great house seats to alot of shows. So Theatre-palooza 2008 began on Thursday night with Dirty Dancing at the Aldwych, followed by Billy Elliott on Friday night at the Victoria Palace, and matinee of Ivanov at Wyndham's this afternoon. While I worked this week, Adam also saw Zorro and Rain Man. Not bad for four days in London I guess...because who needs Big Ben, Tower Bridge, the National Gallery and the like when you can have Kenneth Branagh, dancing Margaret Thatchers, and Johnny Castle?!
I was in Manchester all last week...the usual uneventful business trip, although there was a visit to a pub that has been built in a converted public convenience...meaning, in an underground street toilet. But that's another story for another time. Anyways, I had just enough time on Thursday night to swing home, say hi to Curriecat, and head to the West End to meet Adam. I have to say, I didn't know what to expect...we hadn't seen each other in five years and who knew if we'd still find each other fun? Luckily we both remain, in our own and each other's opinions, fabulous, so we were just fine. Plus, we had Dirty Dancing to break the ice.
Dirty Dancing: The Classic Story On Stage is not a musical, per se. None of the characters sing. It's basically a stage re-creation of the movie, with featured vocalists re-creating the soundtrack live. The audience laughed in recognition at some of the more famous lines: "I carried a watermelon?!" "Ga-goong," and of course, "Nobody puts baby in a corner" (actually, Adam and I led the cheers on that one). There were some weak points-Penny looked more like Paris Hilton, and I thought Johnny Castle was too Mediterranean-looking and would have made a better Bernardo in West Side Story. However, it was obvious much of the audience had never been to the theatre before, so if a guilty pleasure like Dirty Dancing can get them there, well, that's a job well done isn't it?
Next up: Billy Elliott. There are no words. My seat was front row, on the centre aisle. The music director was right in front of me and I could actually follow along on his score, that's how close I was. The advantage of really close seats are that you can see every expression, every nuance, on an actor's face. The disadvantage when you're me (read: short), and the show is all about dancing, is that you can't see their feet. I had to strain to watch Billy tap. That being said, I was in tears at several points and the 12 year old playing Billy, Tom Holland, was outstanding. Great, great, show. I'll be taking anyone who comes to visit me in London to see Billy. And yes, there are plenty of dancing Margaret Thatchers, and some great Geordie accents. I'm determined to perfect one by the time I leave the UK.
Today (Saturday) started with a leisurely stroll down the canal to Broadway Market for good coffee and yummy breakfast (roast pig sandwich for Adam, Vietnamese coffee for me), before we raced to the West End again for Ivanov. Some people will be aware that I have harboured a somewhat sick and inexplicable crush on Kenneth Branagh since I was in Grade 9, so I was very excited to see the man perform...so I excited I forgot that I, like, totally hate Chekhov. Oh well. Again, a terrific ensemble cast made up of many of my favorite bit performers from various BBC costume dramas (I kept hissing to Adam things like, "Gina McKee was amazing in Croupier", "That's Mary Bennett from Pride & Prejudice!" or "That's Sylvestra de la Touzel, she was Fanny Price in the 1979 BBC TV adaptation of Mansfield Park and later went on to play a bit part in the 1982 TV adaptation of Persuasion " and the like until he shushed me. Anyways, Chekhov being Chekhov, there a mid-life crisis and nervous breakdown, a few suicides, and three hours later we were on our way back home to change for the opera.
We just made it to the Royal Opera House in time, fighting our way into the lifts at Covent Garden Tube Station, waving our tickets to persuade people to let us jump the queue. Adam checked our coats, I raced for programs, and we sank onto our bench seat in the orchestra stalls just in time to applaud the conductor before the curtain went up. Our seats were fabulous, in my opinion...stage left, just above the orchestra, close enough again to see the performers' faces and also to peer down into the orchestra pit. The house was packed, La Boheme being such an accessible opera, and we had to fight our way into the grand atrium for champagne during the first interval. You know you've crammed too much theatre into a day when your dinner consists of champagne in the first interval and Covent Garden ices (stem ginger for me, vanilla for Adam) during the second.
My friend Adam is visiting at the moment from New York. Adam is probably more of a theatre nerd than I am, and also happens to be in the industry and was well-placed to get us great house seats to alot of shows. So Theatre-palooza 2008 began on Thursday night with Dirty Dancing at the Aldwych, followed by Billy Elliott on Friday night at the Victoria Palace, and matinee of Ivanov at Wyndham's this afternoon. While I worked this week, Adam also saw Zorro and Rain Man. Not bad for four days in London I guess...because who needs Big Ben, Tower Bridge, the National Gallery and the like when you can have Kenneth Branagh, dancing Margaret Thatchers, and Johnny Castle?!
I was in Manchester all last week...the usual uneventful business trip, although there was a visit to a pub that has been built in a converted public convenience...meaning, in an underground street toilet. But that's another story for another time. Anyways, I had just enough time on Thursday night to swing home, say hi to Curriecat, and head to the West End to meet Adam. I have to say, I didn't know what to expect...we hadn't seen each other in five years and who knew if we'd still find each other fun? Luckily we both remain, in our own and each other's opinions, fabulous, so we were just fine. Plus, we had Dirty Dancing to break the ice.
Dirty Dancing: The Classic Story On Stage is not a musical, per se. None of the characters sing. It's basically a stage re-creation of the movie, with featured vocalists re-creating the soundtrack live. The audience laughed in recognition at some of the more famous lines: "I carried a watermelon?!" "Ga-goong," and of course, "Nobody puts baby in a corner" (actually, Adam and I led the cheers on that one). There were some weak points-Penny looked more like Paris Hilton, and I thought Johnny Castle was too Mediterranean-looking and would have made a better Bernardo in West Side Story. However, it was obvious much of the audience had never been to the theatre before, so if a guilty pleasure like Dirty Dancing can get them there, well, that's a job well done isn't it?
Next up: Billy Elliott. There are no words. My seat was front row, on the centre aisle. The music director was right in front of me and I could actually follow along on his score, that's how close I was. The advantage of really close seats are that you can see every expression, every nuance, on an actor's face. The disadvantage when you're me (read: short), and the show is all about dancing, is that you can't see their feet. I had to strain to watch Billy tap. That being said, I was in tears at several points and the 12 year old playing Billy, Tom Holland, was outstanding. Great, great, show. I'll be taking anyone who comes to visit me in London to see Billy. And yes, there are plenty of dancing Margaret Thatchers, and some great Geordie accents. I'm determined to perfect one by the time I leave the UK.
Today (Saturday) started with a leisurely stroll down the canal to Broadway Market for good coffee and yummy breakfast (roast pig sandwich for Adam, Vietnamese coffee for me), before we raced to the West End again for Ivanov. Some people will be aware that I have harboured a somewhat sick and inexplicable crush on Kenneth Branagh since I was in Grade 9, so I was very excited to see the man perform...so I excited I forgot that I, like, totally hate Chekhov. Oh well. Again, a terrific ensemble cast made up of many of my favorite bit performers from various BBC costume dramas (I kept hissing to Adam things like, "Gina McKee was amazing in Croupier", "That's Mary Bennett from Pride & Prejudice!" or "That's Sylvestra de la Touzel, she was Fanny Price in the 1979 BBC TV adaptation of Mansfield Park and later went on to play a bit part in the 1982 TV adaptation of Persuasion " and the like until he shushed me. Anyways, Chekhov being Chekhov, there a mid-life crisis and nervous breakdown, a few suicides, and three hours later we were on our way back home to change for the opera.
We just made it to the Royal Opera House in time, fighting our way into the lifts at Covent Garden Tube Station, waving our tickets to persuade people to let us jump the queue. Adam checked our coats, I raced for programs, and we sank onto our bench seat in the orchestra stalls just in time to applaud the conductor before the curtain went up. Our seats were fabulous, in my opinion...stage left, just above the orchestra, close enough again to see the performers' faces and also to peer down into the orchestra pit. The house was packed, La Boheme being such an accessible opera, and we had to fight our way into the grand atrium for champagne during the first interval. You know you've crammed too much theatre into a day when your dinner consists of champagne in the first interval and Covent Garden ices (stem ginger for me, vanilla for Adam) during the second.
Anyways, Adam is now off to a cocktail party in Islington. I've begged off to come home and sleep. I have my own rehearsal tomorrow for Brenda Bly: Teen Detective, and I'll need some serious sleep before tapping my heart out. Adam and I are already planning Theatrepalooza 2009. We will probably aim to do it when Jude Law is playing in Hamlet at Wyndham's. Other possible candidates will include the new Priscilla, Queen of the Desert musical, Oliver, which opens next month, and possibly also The Sound of Music. I might need to take some time off work. This theatre-going is serious business.