Misadventures on a Small Island

Moving to London brings many good things: being close to certain loved ones, having so much history around, the proximity to exciting countries.

The West End.

Ok, so I wasn’t fooling anyone. The West End is a *huge* drawing card to London. Aside from New York, it is the place I would want to be in the world theatre wise. However, in saying that, the last 3 and a bit months haven’t contained enough theatre to satisfy my cravings. This is mostly because London is expensive.

I have, however, managed to see a few really good shows, so I thought I’d give a run down of what I’ve seen so far. If you want a more indepth / reviewy look at the shows, then a lot of them are (or will shortly be) on my other, more theatre oriented, site.

Talent – Menier Chocolate Factory

The first show I saw in London. Was more excited about the fact that I was seeing a show in London than I was about the show itself. I knew nothing about it, aside from the director’s name, and had no preconceptions about London theatre. I was jetlagged and it was an ample introduction to London theatre.

That is, it set the bar pretty low for what I was to see later.

The show itself wasn’t bad, just incredibly low budget. I kind of expected anything produced West End style (or off West End as the Chocolate Factory is) to be big and glitzy. I was surprised that a venue like the Chocolate Factory be so critically acclaimed, with many productions going on to full West End and Broadway runs.

Hairspray – Shaftesbury Theatre

Next show I managed to afford tickets to was Hairspray. On a whim, I decided that theatre was in order, as celebration for the recent employment acquisition. Hairspray has been a show that I’ve kind of liked for a while. It’s never been a favourite, apart from the brief period in my final year of uni when it got me an HD* (yes, I wrote a paper on Hairspray. That’s how useful my degree is).

If Hairspray was gold, Talent would be tin. The difference was ridiculous. The overall talent and production values on Hairspray were what I would expect from Broadway. At this moment, I realised that I was seeing a *West End* show. The difference in ticket price was that Hairspray was £10 cheaper, which didn’t make sense.

The only thing that I didn’t like about Hairspray was Belinda Carlisle. The vocal talent she has is in direct contrast to the acting ability she possesses. It was the best example of ‘just because you’ve topped the charts, doesn’t mean you should be allowed to act’ I have ever seen.

And I’ve seen Glitter.

*for the Brits, an HD is High Distinction. In fact, the paper secured me first in the unit [/pompous gloating].

The Nutcracker – Royal Opera House

For a treat, Em treated me to a night at the ballet around Christmas time. I have never been a big fan of ballet (aside from my indulgence in bad cinema), but The Nutcracker was something I genuinely wanted to see. Em was more excited than a 5 year old in their first tutu. I didn’t know what to expect.

What resulted was some of the best theatre I’ve ever seen. I was captivated from start to finish and my bottom didn’t fall asleep once. It was a strange feeling, especially considering I knew nothing about ballet (aside from what the aforementioned movie taught me), but I felt like I was being injected with culture AND enjoying myself!

Random Drag Show – Cellar Door

Cellar Door is a cool venue. It’s a converted public toilet.

Sounds appealing doesn’t it?

I decided on Cellar Door as the venue to take some friends from Sydney out on the town on a Monday night. I believe Cellar Door was my first mistake.

I believe Monday night was my second.

What ensued was hours of drinking cheap wine and watching a drag show in possibly the smallest venue ever conceived. The performer herself was quite entertaining. Unfortunately, we had the table directly next to where she was singing. This meant that four drunk, Australian musical theatre lovers were providing backup and banter for the 50 strong crowd.

On the night, we were certain we made the show that much better by not only having what was ostensibly an international act, but a bloody good one at that. Our dulcet (read: loud) tones were perfect for the harmonies and I think she really appreciated the backup dancing. A rapport was great and the awkward silences after every joke were merely a cultural misunderstanding. However, it was she who ended up getting paid at the end of the night. We were robbed.

The next morning, i wasn’t as confident that our onstage presence was welcome.

However, I do believe that our rendition of Wicked in Covent Garden Markets at 1am was welcome. It was just a shame that there weren’t many people about at 1 in the morning on a Monday night/Tuesday morning.

Silence! The Musical – Above the Stag

The following night I took Emily along to see the preview of Silence! The Musical. Extremely hungover, I managed to get lost on the way to the venue. I ended up finding the venue, after mistaking it for a dodgy pub.

Above the Stag isn’t a dodgy pub

It’s a dodgy gay bar.

A dodgy gay bar that I fell in love with. It is the perfect venue for anything I have ever wanted to produce/direct/star in. It’s a cabaret joint plus a theatre. I didn’t even need to see Silence, I had fallen in love.

Silence! The Musical didn’t bring my high down. This is, in fact, a musical adaptation of Silence of the Lambs. Written by some guys (Musical Theatre Nerds: including Title of Show’s Hunter Bell) in New York, it was a cult hit off Broadway in 2005. It then went into hiding for 4 years before resurfacing in London with new material.

I am so glad I saw Silence.

It is offensive, lo-fi, tongue-so-firmly-planted-in-cheek-that-said-cheek-is-bleeding theatre at it’s best. The cast were great considering it was the first time they had performed the material in front of an audience. Surprisingly, Emily enjoyed the evening as much as I did! Her favourite number being ‘I’d F**k Me’ by Buffalo Bill. I do wonder sometimes.

In addition they gave me a glow in the dark button. Yes, a button. That glows in the dark. Win.

Nation – The National Theatre

I picked up £5 tickets to Nation last night. It was worth it, even if the story was painfully bad at times. It was a theatrical experience I hadn’t had before.  was so utterly blown away by the performances and the production as whole that it saved the fact the script is a turd. a steaming one at that.

Also, I love that I got £5 tickets and was sitting in the stalls, 7 rows back, practically dead centre. In addition, the programmes were £3. Most amateur productions in Sydney charge more for their programs. For that £3 I received a book. A book full of… things. Not particularly useful things, but things nonetheless. There was also a little booklet on how to build my own Nation. Now that is quality.

You could learn something, ridiculous over charging Sydney theatres who expect $20-30 for a program. You hear me? Learn. something.

£3

Yes, three pounds.

Next up, I’m booking tickets to a few shows. Going to see Avenue Q, possibly Waiting for Godot with Ian McKellin and want to see Tom Stoppard’s new one at the National Theatre (and purchase another £3 programme).

Any suggestions?

Well, I’m assuming it was a rather boring week. Upon skimming over my diary I had, apart from a London outing on Monday, two exciting entries. Sofa being delivered. Interview. Now that’s excitement. That being said, I think I had enough excitement on the Monday to last an entire month.*

I started the week with a rather full London outing. I, very ambitiously, decided that I would visit the “museums” near the London Eye, The Tate Modern, Soho and possibly squeeze in some time at a cafe to finish off a blog post, all by 6 o’clock. Well, I almost succeeded. I visited the “museums” near the London Eye and visited the Tate Modern, and did it all by approximately 6 o’clock. What I hadn’t expected was that the Tate Modern would take up so much of my time. So much, in fact, that I declared that I would be visiting again very soon (to nobody in particular) as soon as I hurried out of the building.

So, first the “museums” near the London Eye. Why do I keep putting quotation marks around “museums,” I hear you ask? Because I strongly believe that if you need to pay to get into a so-called museum in London, then chances are it’s not actually a museum, but a cleverly disguised rouse that will result in you walking through the door and being beaten by two large Albanians. Whilst this wasn’t entirely accurate, it wasn’t far off.

I decided to walk down past the Dali museum, the Movie Museum (affectionately [sic: stupidly] called ‘The Movieum’), the aquarium and a few other tourist traps mostly because it was next to the London Eye. I’m sure that everyone knows what the London Eye is, but for those who don’t, it’s a rather large Ferris Wheel that takes about an hour to go the full way round, and robs you of about three thousand quid when you try and buy a ticket.** I wanted to see what the fuss was about, and I probably will fork out exorbitant amounts of money to stand on an observation deck for an hour seeing the parts of London I already have seen, but not today. Instead, I wandered down towards Westminster to see what I could find before heading up to the Tate Modern. When a rather cheery young lady handed me a flyer and promised me cheaper tickets to the Movie Museum, I couldn’t really resist. What could be better than a museum about movies? Not much.

After forking over a tenner for entry (thanks to another stroke of charity from the lady at the door), I entered into what was promising to be an extremely exciting experience. I was even allowed to photograph the exhibitions! In a nutshell, The Movieum is a collection of props and costumes that nobody particularly wants (or wants to see) anymore. I may be being a little too harsh, but the only thing that mildly interested me was some Harry Potter costumes, along with some original wands from the film, and that was only because I am a very very sad person (pathetic, not depressed). What irked me about the entire exhibition was not that these things were on display, but that they actually charged people to see them. And a lot of the time you weren’t even looking at artefacts from the main characters. Prime example: ‘a head from a zombie from Shaun of the Dead’. Thanks.

I decided to forgo the other prize museums (Dali Experience, London Aquarium, some haunted horror thing) and head off towards the Tate Modern. Along the way I stumbled across the previously mentioned National Theatre Shop. I’ve already commented on the shop, so let me comment on the National Theatre itself. While the National Theatre seems to produce quality show after quality show, the building in which it is contained is a bloody eyesore. It reminds of Macquarie University with all of it’s cement and bad 70s architecture. However, I do have to say that at night the time-honoured stage tradition of making something awful look much better through effective lighting comes into play. It’s kind of like an art installation where the artist is vomiting blue paint: it’s repulsive, but boy, the colours are pretty.

I headed onwards towards the Tate Modern, another slightly unattractive building that at least has history. I had decided to make a trip to the Tate Modern to see the PopLife exhibition, as I fancy myself a pop art liker (it’s not quite love). When glancing over the other exhibition I decided to part with even more money and make a day of the Tate Modern. I’m glad I did at least. The other exhibition is John Baldessari’s ‘Pure Beauty’, and having never heard of the artist, I ventured in unknowingly.

John Baldessari is a cheeky, cheeky man. I felt that he is an absurdist at heart, and has gone through so many changes that to look at three pieces from the 60s, the 80s and now, you wouldn’t recognise it as the same artist. I absolutely love his early work.

Here are some examples of his early work:

Basically, he was taking the piss. I like that.

His later work is a bit meh, and I found myself not really appreciating it. I sped up, out, fed and drank then continued on to PopLife.

PopLife is a celebration of late Pop Art (post late 80s). it includes Jeff Koons, late Andy Warhol, Takashi Murakami and Keith Haring, amongst others. There was some absolute gems throughout the exhibition, as well as absolute bollocks. Personally, my favourite of the bollocks variety was a rather tasteful film of a lady artist and a male art dealer having sex for 60 minutes. It was her comment on how art dealers screw the artists. Apparently she paid the art dealer US$10,000 to partake.

After PopLife i stumbled through the rest of the galleries not really noticing anything. The two exhibitions that I had seen made me think and made me want to create something. I promptly emptied my wallet in the shop, buying things that would ‘inspire me’. They have yet to do so, but are doing a grand job of cluttering the study desk.

To end the day I took a stroll across Millennium Bridge. Yes, the Millennium Bridge that is destroyed in Harry Potter 6. I felt like I was walking across a celebrity. Not only were my feet touching someone(thing) famous, but I was treated to the beautiful sight of St Paul’s at night. Unfortunately photos just don’t do it justice, so after about 15 minutes of attempting to take a photo, I aimlessly wandered towards (where I thought there was) a tube station. I think I ended up near Brighton.

The rest of the week was fairly uninteresting. Sofa got delivered, Sofa got assembled. Job interview had, third job interview secured (give or take a week or two).

It’s Christmas in two days. I’ve got a week off so hopefully I can write and (almost) get this blog up to date. Either that or I’ll drink far too much mulled wine, eat too many mince pies and end up passed out on Em’s parents couch. Either way sounds pretty good to me.

*slight exaggeration

**another slight exaggeration