“You are the chief executive officer of the human race”
It was quite interesting to rewatch Series 8 of Doctor Who, one which I hadn’t revisited at all since it originally aired, as my memories thereof were not at all positive. And whilst disappointments remained – Robin Hood, 2D cartoons, the treeees! – there was also much to enjoy that I’d forgotten about. The smash-and-grab of Time Heist, the simplicity of ghost story Listen, and the ominous darkness of the finale.
I’m still in two minds about Peter Capaldi’s Twelve though, I want to like him so much more than I do, and I think you do get the sense of him feeling his way into his irascible take on the role. Jenna Coleman’s Clara benefits from being released from the yoke of impossibility to move to the forefront of several episodes and if she’s still a little hard to warm to, that finale really is superbly done. And then there’s Michelle Gomez, stealing the whole damn thing magnificently! Continue reading “Countdown to new Who: Doctor Who Series 8”
“Perhaps he’ll find the words to tell me of his love”
Just a quickie for this as due to an earlier cancelled performance, the only show I could fit into the schedule was this penultimate one. An all-female production of anything is enough to pique the interest, never mind something starring the extraordinary Kathryn Hunter, and this had the added benefit of being a story I’d never actually seen before – Cyrano De Bergerac. That said, the best single-sex productions are the ones that derive something unique from playing it that way and that was singularly lacking here.
Adapted by Glyn Maxwell from Edmond Rostand’s 1897 play, Russell Bolam’s directorial conceit is to have the tale told by nuns (who play a role later on) to a novice of their order. But Bolam makes no other concession and shows no real willingness to delve with any depth into the notions of gender, love, identity, masculinity etc that seem ripe for the picking. And without the star wattage of Hunter’s striking performance, the whole show would likely collapse like a house of cards. The consequence is thus a fatally unbalanced piece of work and worse, a squandered opportunity.
Running time: 2 hours 30 minutes (with interval)
Booking until 19th March
“People of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them, they went out and happened to things”
I came to Da Vinci’s Demons late but I really enjoyed working my way through Series 1 and Series 2 of this historical fantasy in order to get up to speed for the arrival of the third series. This turned out to be a bit of a bittersweet exercise as the show was then cancelled and the decision made to release the final series in its entirety online. I reviewed the first two episodes here but it has taken me a while to get to watching the rest though sadly, it wasn’t quite the swansong I’d hoped for.
Now thoroughly uprooted from Florence, the multitudinous locations of the many-stranded narrative leave Da Vinci’s Demons flailing aimlessly a little too often, with a sense of confusion about where and when (and indeed why) things are happening and not enough of a grand design emerging, drawing the pieces together with increasing clarity. The most frustrating part of this is the prominence of the programme’s internal mythology, pitching the Sons of Mithras (now bad) against the Labyrinth (possibly good, I think). Continue reading “DVD Review: Da Vinci’s Demons Series 3”
“Life in the country is just so bloody boring”
Someone wiser than I pointed out that the only way you could do The Seagull at the Open Air Theatre was to be thoroughly iconoclastic, ruffling those Chekhovian feathers into something brasher, bolder and less contained. And there is no doubting that that is what Torben Betts’ new version and Matthew Dunster’s directorial vision have set out to do here, ramping up the comedic elements (of the first half at least) but sacrificing much of the counterbalancing tragedy that customarily gives the Russian writer’s work its depth.
There’s some good work here – Janie Dee’s skittish Arkadina is a delight as she vainly tries to cling onto a long-gone girliishness (though impressive barre work!), Lisa Diveney’s Kirsten Stewart-ish Masha is well-realised in all her agonised inaction, and Jon Bausor’s striking design tilts a giant mirror at 45 degrees to the floor to both open up and expose the world of the tortured souls in this country estate. But the prevailing mood is one of something close to glibness, as the frivolity of the updating comes up hard against the traditional period setting. Continue reading “Review: The Seagull, Open Air Theatre”