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?

It’s almost been a month since I departed my plane at Heathrow airport and I have been slack in keeping up correspondence with… well… anyone, really. It has been a fairly busy month, and a recount of this will understandably be quite long. Therefore, I’m splitting these posts up into a few parts. I will be having a fairly uninteresting week this week so it should give me an opportunity to bring this blog up to date.

I’m currently making my way through Bill Bryson’s Notes on a Small Island to bring me up to speed with the remarkably small island that is the UK. It is one of the funniest books I’ve read for a while and has thus inspired the title of this blog.

To start I could entertain you with the long and amusing story involving our baggage dilemmas and some hilarious mixups with the airline companies. However, this could take days and I will sum it up in two sentences. The night before we flew, we had to repack 5 suitcases and attempt to fit the important stuff in 2 suitcases. As a result, we now both officially hate British Airways and Qantas, and their stupid One World Alliance.

Once we were on the plane, our anger subsided to be replaced with joy at the fact that the plane was practically empty. This meant a much more comfortable 24 hour flight than I was expecting, even if the food and movies were terrible. I did, however, manage to confirm my love of top gear over the period of about 12 hours (something that has continued considering there’s a TV channel here that pretty much does Top Gear 24 hours a day. Thank you Dave).

Sydney was a nice and chilly 40 degrees when we left. However, due to lack of space in suitcases, we both managed to pile on most of the clothes we own and looked something like Michelen men. However, upon landing at Heathrow this seemed to be a rather intelligent idea. It was cold.

Thanks to Em’s parents, we then jumped in a car and headed north. As this is my first foray overseas, I was expecting something a little more… dramatic. Being on the other side of the world I expected it to look somehow different. I’m not really sure how, but I expected something to look not Australian. Aside from the signs

After a 32 or so hour drive, we arrived in Em’s hometown. Letchworth (full name Letchworth Garden City) is a beautiful little town in Hertfordshire (Pride and Prejudice country) that lays claim to having the first roundabout in the UK. Apart from that there’s not much else there. That’s not to say that it isn’t a lovely place. In fact, they do have a cracking cinema (cheap as chips. Slightly small though) and also lay claim to being the only place in the UK where you can find black squirrels. True story.

We didn’t last long that day. I believe I may have met some family and I’m sure that I made a great impression as a zombie but we hit bed fairly early. On that note, I love jet lag. You can blame anything on it. Feeling particularly cranky? Sorry, jet lag. Don’t want to go anywhere? Sorry, jet lag. There’s a ridiculous amount of housework? Sorry, jet lag. Unfortunately, Em stopped counting it as an excuse fairly early.

The few days that followed were interesting. On Friday night I was introduced to a crime against humanity. For this, I blame Em 100%. She decided that the best way to introduce me to the London Underground was during peak hour on Friday night at Kings Cross Station. Now, the train down was nice enough. The train was fairly full and had a lovely odour of stale sweat, but this was nothing, I repeat nothing, compared to the Tube. Firstly, they had closed the gates at Kings Cross tube station because the platforms were too congested. Once we eventually pushed our way in, Em made the comment that we would have to take the Northern Line. The deepest line that, in Em’s words, “is so dirty it turns your bogies black”. Charming. However, to get there we were herded like sheep through a series of long, low, small tunnels to a platform where I’m fairly sure if you put your arms out, three people would end up on the tracks. It was lovely. However, the night did end well as we saw a fairly good Victoria Wood musical, Talent (the review of which you can read at my other blog).

Saturday brought a baptism of fire. Em’s dad turned 60 the day we flew in and had his celebrations on the Saturday night in a way that any normal man would: A barn dance. Cue Luke being terrified at meeting almost the entire family and friends network… and then dosey doeing with them. However, it was actually a fun night. I met everyone, they all seemed lovely, I was dragged up to dance by one of Em’s mum and dad’s friends, etc etc. Fish and chips were consumed, along with a fair amount of alcohol. It wasn’t as bad as I had feared. Then again, I do have a fairly active imagination.

Saturday also saw Em and I frantically searching for a house in Twickenham. Out of the possible three it came down to two. Unfortunately, I desperately wanted one, and she desperately wanted another. Mine was a cute little cottage and hers was a cesspool that backed on to a factory (bias?). Of course, I won. We spent Sunday in a lovely lazy manner. First off we had a family pub lunch in a nearby town (the Brits do pub lunch well, I must say), then we headed to another pub to meet Em’s book club. In mentioning that, I must say that all of Em’s friends and family I’ve met have been rather lovely (A good thing considering some might by reading this… uh… hi…). They have all been welcoming and nice and haven’t mentioned the Ashes. I’m looking forward to spending more time with a lot of them, which is a good thing, I suppose.

I think that’s probably a nice place to end this post. That covers three four days in Britain, so by this rate I should be up to date in about a year. Luckily I have had an unexciting week or two since then.

Next Post: First day in London, antiques in Birmingham and moving our belongings to Twickenham amongst other things…