Monthly Archives: September 2013

Review – Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa, Errol Flynn Filmhouse, Northampton, 1st September 2013

Posted on by

Knowing me, Mr Chrisparkle, knowing you, gentle reader, A-HA! Sorry, couldn’t resist that. If you don’t know what that refers to, then obviously you’re not a fan of the early Alan Partridge, in which case I am slightly wondering why you are interested in an opinion about his latest and indeed only film, “Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa”. If Alan Partridge is a new comic creation to you, then you ought to know that he’s a narcissistic knob who was once a sports reporter on Radio Norwich, then promoted beyond his capabilities to host his own dire chat show, but who today is propping up the airwaves on some backwater station called North Norfolk Digital with the show “Mid Morning Matters”. If you have loved all Mr Partridge’s TV and radio appearances over the last twenty years you will know that, depending on the script, this would be either 0% or 100% hilarious.

100% it is. North Norfolk Digital is being bought out by a media conglomerate with no feeling for its slightly more middle-aged audience, and is only interested in yoof breakfast shows fronted by a smarmy young git who deplores anything aged over 23. Alan is confident that the new regime will respect his broadcasting gifts and keep him on the payroll, but aging DJ colleague Pat Farrell, played by Colm Meaney, fears it’s the end for him and his night-time radio snoozathon. Realising that it’s either Pat or Alan who has to go, Alan betrays Pat to the radio board, Pat gets sacked and Alan keeps his job. However, Pat doesn’t take this lying down and holds half the radio station staff hostage in a bizarre shotgun siege, and Alan is sent in to negotiate. Enough plot summary – you’ll have to watch the film to see how it works out.

As you might have guessed it’s a double spoof – not only the whole Alan Partridge/North Norfolk Digital thing (alas I have to break it to you that neither really exist) but also of the Hollywood hostage siege genre with Alan as a kind of East Anglian Bruce Willis. In many respects it’s quite a moral story – a criticism of big business barging its way into the everyday lives of ordinary people whom it is happy to destroy without any consideration for the personal fallout. However, with Alan Partridge at the helm, any moral turpitude is likely to stem from him. You’ll be delighted to know that his character is still as full of questionable taste, supreme arrogance, woeful ineptitude, pathetic cowardice, absurd prejudice, schoolboy smut and utter hypocrisy as ever he was.

It’s stacked full of LOL moments, many of them surprisingly subtle and under-egged so that it has a great lightness of touch and you never feel that one joke is being milked beyond its capacity. Whether it’s his escaping through a window only for his trousers and pants to get caught on the latch, or his hiding (literally) in a toilet there’s lots of physical comedy as well as that created from his character flaws and interactions with everyone else. There are some great performances from the supporting cast – Felicity Montagu is terrific as his long-suffering PA Lynn, all dolled up when she has to front the media, and there’s the unexpected pleasure of seeing Anna Maxwell Martin as the no-nonsense officer in charge of the police operation, visibly stretching Alan’s distrust of women in power.

A quick mention also to the great use of music in the film; regrettably Alan’s and my tastes in music coincide quite a lot, and seeing his totally uninhibited singalong to the radio in the car with full use of steering wheel bongos reminded me just how stupid I must look sometimes. The use of John Farnham’s “You’re The Voice” was brilliant and I bopped in my cinema seat something dreadful. So if you’re a Partridge fan, you’re going to love this film. I could easily imagine it being severely embarrassing if it had been dogged with a poor script, but instead it’s very well written, beautifully put together and extremely funny.

Review – A Chorus Line – revisited – yet again – London Palladium, 31st August 2013

Posted on by

This was my fourth time seeing this production of A Chorus Line in London, my fourteenth time since 1976. If you’d like to take a look at my review from February, it’s here, our visit in June is here, my trip with my Godson in July it’s here, or if you just want to hear about the last night, read on!

Let me take you back, gentle reader, to the last night of A Chorus Line at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane in March 1979. A full house, naturally packed with fans, of course. The lights dimmed to signal the start of the show, which generated a huge round of applause that only died down once the show had started. Warm, loving rounds of applause followed each song as the show progressed. At the emotional culmination, when Diana, played by Miss Diane Langton, finished singing “What I Did For Love”, the applause was sustained, and sustained, and sustained… and Miss Langton was choking back the tears. In that 70s production, once the lights dimmed on the glitzily dressed performers doing the “One” finale, you never saw them again for a final curtain call; apart from on that last night, when the lights went back up again to reveal a cast who were a blancmange of tears, waves, shouts and every emotion under the sun.

Fast forward to the last night of A Chorus Line at the London Palladium on August 31st 2013. The same full house, the same plethora of fans, crackling with anticipation and the same big round of applause when it started. “God I hope I get it…” I have to mention again here the great, brief appearance of Georgie Ashford as Trisha, one of the early eliminees, giving it all she’s got with her wayward wacky dancing that’s hilarious but not cruel. The atmosphere in the audience, this feeling of “fan love” is just like 1979, I thought. Then something different happened. It was at that point near the end of the opening number when the cast all walk up to the front of the stage together, hold the resumés in front of their faces and the orchestra hits that funky, stabbing, portentous chord and they stay still for probably four chords, until Larry collects the CVs. Not this time. Massive applause drowns out the first four chords; then the second four chords. It’s not letting up for the next four chords. From my seat I can see Ashley Nottingham (Larry)’s face go boggle-eyed with delight at the reaction from the audience – the resumés hide everyone else’s faces so we can’t see them but you sense an overwhelming wave of “OMG”-ness is about to hit this stage.

The show continues. Harry Francis is playing Mike as the cockiest New York Italian, all slicked back hair and spilling over with machismo. Later in the show the girls either side of him accuse him of being a sex maniac, and whereas other Mikes have looked shocked and surprised at the news, this Mike just looks substantially chuffed! Whereas Adam Salter’s Mike thrilled us with his tumbling acrobatics, Mr Francis’ “I Can Do That” brings out the best of his ballet skills with a series of great fouettés. Cue for another sustained round of applause, so long that it’s about now that some of the performers, Mr Francis included, begin to look a little bit shocked.

Ed Currie’s performance as Bobby is just sheer bliss. His voice wanders up and down the vocal scale capturing Bobby’s weirdness and self-deprecation to perfection. Superb, and fully deserving of its own round of applause, which it duly receives. On to a beautiful performance of “At The Ballet”, with Leigh Zimmerman and Daisy Maywood on top form; and when Vicki Lee Taylor (Maggie)’s soaring yet serene top note gets a huge reaction she seems visibly moved. Another great performance of “Sing” follows, with Frances Dee’s Kristine just missing the notes with absolute conviction and credibility, and Simon Hardwick’s Al going all out to calm her down.

Michael Steedon gives Mark’s monologue great life and humour and he really revels in that discussion with the priest about gonorrhoea. Supersub Katy Hards performs Connie as a Southern States belle of Summer Stock, and her vocal drawl adds to a great reinterpretation of the role. I loved her reaction to Larry’s suggestion she should relax during the Tap Combination, with the result that she flops about the stage like a rag doll. Victoria Hamilton-Barritt (Diana)’s so excited that she’s going to the High School of Performing Arts and gives the most life-affirming rendition of “Nothing” which gets so much applause that she has no choice but to talk through it or we’d never get finished. I did appreciate her returning to Michael Bennett’s original choreography of “be a table, be a sports car, ice-cream cone” (one for the die-hard purists there!)

More superb characterisation follows with Andy Rees’ lugubrious Greg, James T Lane’s keen-as-mustard Richie and Lucy Jane Adcock’s deliriously dotty Judy. When the whole “Hello Twelve…” montage is complete, there is a sea of cheers and whoops that takes forever to die down and now some of the dancers are really beginning to look affected. I can see at least three faces on stage that appear to be saying to themselves “Don’t cry, whatever you do…”, and that’s just the guys. When you think this part of the show can’t get better, Rebecca Herszenhorn gives the best performance of “Dance Ten Looks Three” I’ve seen her give all year, turning Val into the truly ultimate sexpot.

I always sense that things get more serious once Cassie is called back for her one-to-one with Zach; you’re really into the meat of the show now. Scarlett Strallen gives an amazing “Music and the Mirror”, and when Zach recalls how she “stopped two shows cold”, you can just see how she did it. Her whole performance was brilliant – not just the dancing, but also her understanding of the role brought out the character’s humour, her introspection and anger; and you can really see how the break up of the relationship with the cold Zach, played with businesslike efficiency and eerie domination by Gary Watson, affected her deeply. Very long sustained applause and even some dotted standing ovations at Miss Strallen’s performance. Gary Wood takes to the stage and raises Paul’s monologue to new heights with fantastic changes of pace and terrific vocal light and shade. I felt I understood Paul so much more with this performance. Even though it’s not a musical number, the audience gave Mr Wood a great reaction once the scene was over. The next scenes: the rehearsal of One, the emotionally raw discussion between Cassie and Zach, and the comedy and tragedy of the Tap Combination were all performed with true heart and conviction.

There’s a lot of poignancy in some of those final scenes, particularly when the show is closing. Nothing runs forever, right? The only chorus line you can depend on this business is the one at un-em-ploy-ment! Lately I’ve been thinking of opening a dance studio – am I copping out or am I growing up? “But if today were the day you had to stop dancing, how would you feel?” Cue gulps of emotion from both stage and audience. Miss Hamilton-Barritt delivers the true message of the show with “What I Did For Love” as tears run down the faces of her colleagues surrounding her. It soars, as it always does, when the chorus comes in, and she completes the song with all the emotional intensity of that final night, an intensity so strong that she has to give way to the tears immediately afterwards.

When Zach makes his final choice of four and four, Harry Francis turns his tears of emotion into tears of victory for Mike’s success, Ed Currie hides his face and Simon Hardwick simply crumples up with emotion. Naturally it was a full standing ovation for the finale, and for Scarlett Strallen and Leigh Zimmerman’s final messages of gratitude from the stage. Leigh Zimmerman really summed it up with her final words – “don’t cry that it’s ended, smile because it happened – it’s what we did for love.” The end of the line? For today, maybe, at the Palladium. But for anyone who’s been personally affected by this show, the memories, the emotions and the associations that have formed over the past seven months will remain.

Review – Relatively Speaking, Wyndham’s Theatre, 31st August 2013

Posted on by

Hello again gentle reader, it’s been a few weeks since we met. How are you doing? Oh that’s great, me too. Yes, been away, on our travels. I know, what are we like? Right, that’s out of the way. Saturday 31st August 2013 saw the demise of a number of decent shows so Mrs Chrisparkle and I headed off to London to catch a final chance to see a couple of them. Back in May I remember thinking it was a shame that we couldn’t see the new production of Alan Ayckbourn’s Relatively Speaking at Milton Keynes because it was on during Eurovision week, the one week of the year when theatre has to take a back seat. Then it transferred to London for a short run and I rather forgot all about it. But there was a matinee shaped hole in our calendar for last Saturday so I bit the bullet and bought tickets. And I’m so glad I did.

In the hectic hassle-filled days of 2013, the countryside leafy garden breakfasts of 1967 seem a lifetime away; indeed many people don’t make it to their 46th birthday. Yet whilst there is a definite sense of naiveté to at least one of the characters, the repercussions of extra-marital how’s your father is a timeless theme, and I am sure that any audience member with a few guilty secrets of this genre will experience some squeaky bum moments during this play. This was Ayckbourn’s first really successful work, written at the request of Stephen Joseph (with whose name Ayckbourn’s work will always be inextricably linked), who wanted a play for Scarborough “which would make people laugh when their seaside summer holidays were spoiled by the rain and they came into the theatre to get dry before trudging back to their landladies” – a quote from Ayckbourn’s introduction to the 1968 published edition. I’m sure it succeeded in that venture; and today it succeeds in packing out a Saturday matinee with nice middle class people who can rely on the writer’s and cast’s reputation for humour with a twist, but nothing too risqué.

The first scene takes place in Greg and Ginny’s London bedsit; the rest of the play on Philip and Sheila’s garden terrace in Lower Pendon, Bucks. The rather reassuringly Home Counties map that is used as a front curtain helpfully traces the railway route from London out towards Buckinghamshire that Greg and Ginny (separately) take in order to find this rural idyll; and I was delighted to see that the director Lindsay Posner had decided that Lower Pendon is the fictional name for Wendover, where I lived from the age of 5 till I got married. I can indeed endorse that if ever there were an idyllic rural Bucks village with a railway station, you couldn’t do better than choose Wendover.

But I digress. This is a superb revival of Ayckbourn’s deliciously constructed and tightly written play; fifteen minutes of scene-setting then an hour and a half of full-on non-stop talking at cross purposes which results in a high comedy of misunderstandings; with three people shuffling their guilty secrets and an innocent fourth person crashing into them all. One character’s deceptions appear to be fully revealed; another person you realise has an additional secret that you don’t find out about until the end; and a third person you are always unsure of, and that uncertainty continues post-final curtain. There’s enough suggested intrigue to keep you guessing and surmising long after you’ve arrived home.

It would be hard to imagine more perfect casting for this play. Sheila is played by Felicity Kendal; we’ve seen her in a few plays over the years but I don’t think she’s ever put in such a pitch perfect performance. She is totally convincing with her Home Counties niceness and she reminded me so strongly of the mothers of all my Bucks/Herts middle-class school friends, scattered throughout the Lower Pendon villages. Her comic timing is immaculate and her respect for and understanding of Ayckbourn’s words means they are delivered beautifully, wringing every last nuance out of them. Her character has a natural dizziness and you sense an additional faux-dizziness that she assumes when it suits her; but her genuine confusion at the situation in which she finds herself becomes yet a third layer of dizziness, and the whole combination is a complete winner. Her conversation with Greg about her not being Ginny’s mother still cracks me up.

Jonathan Coy, lynch pin of many a West End hit show, gives a great performance, accurately portraying the bullying business bighead for whom it’s perfectly OK to deceive but completely unacceptable to be deceived. It’s one of the most hilarious and intelligent performances of a comic hypocrite you’re every likely to see. Kara Tointon is terrific as Ginny, the rather fab 60s girl with a mini-dress stashed full of secrets who thrashes out as a form of defence when things get too tricky, but whose heart is in the right place – maybe. And Max Bennett is superb as the wide-eyed honourable innocent boyfriend Greg who can’t see the blinking obvious when it’s staring him in the face, and whose well-intentioned but ill-advised blunderings cause havoc to all around him.

When I was a student I wrote to Alan Ayckbourn for his opinion about theatre censorship, which was the subject of my (still-to-be-finished) thesis. He said that it “had very little effect so far as I was concerned, since by the time it was withdrawn in 1968 I was only, as it were, a fledgling dramatist, as yet too inhibited and too unadventurous to write anything that anyone could consider worth censoring”. It’s slightly ironic, therefore, that the opening scene of this production has Mr Bennett emerging from the bathroom naked, his frontal modesty protected only by two bunches of flowers and with no attempt to conceal his posterior. It was all done with great deftness, and it was indeed very funny; but it was another of those “let’s get someone to take their kit off even though there’s no real call for it in the script” moments. I can’t imagine the late Mr Richard Briers, the original Greg, flashing his buttocks to all and sundry; and indeed, I am sure the Lord Chamberlain would not have been amused.

This is but a minor quibble. It’s a terrific production of a play that still has the ability to make a packed audience laugh like drains. Superbly performed and put together, I’m really glad we finally managed to see it.