I’ve just been accepted into the august fold of East Anglian Writers so I guess that makes me a proper author. Cor blimey!
Category: Arts & Theatre
Julian’s Vacant Position
I’ve always had a soft spot for Julian Clary. Britain has a glorious tradition of camp comedians tripping out bawdy innuendos with mincing aplomb – Larry Grayson, John Inman and Frankie Howerd to name but three – but Julian was the first to place his sexuality at the very heart of his act. Sexual ambiguity and suggestive salvos from the back of the closet are not Julian’s style. He slaps it on with a shovel, love it or hate it. The verdict from the predominately straight, middle class, middle aged audience at Norwich’s Theatre Royal was unanimous. They loved it. I’m glad to report that Blighty’s continued pre-occupation with the lewd, the rude and the crude is alive and giggling. We loved it too. Julian provided an unexpected bonus, a marriage proposal live on stage from audience member Samantha to her partner Bonny. A ‘yes’ from Bonny was rewarded with a lively ovation all round. Julian ended his glittering passage with a nod to his more thoughtful side by speak-singing “It’s not yet cool to be queer,” a moving political broadcast for those poor souls living in less tolerant parts of our rainbow world. Julian’s show does exactly what it says on the glittery tin. He may be a one-joke comic but, blimey, what a joke.
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Life is a Cabaret, Old Chum
Liam has made friends with the Theatre Royal which means he’ll be dragging me along to every passing production doing the provincial rounds. As a taste of things to come, we popped along to catch the latest re-working of a treasured old favourite. Deliciously dark and tragically ironic, Cabaret is poignantly set within the doomed metrosexual decadence of Weimar Berlin before the monstrous social cleansing of Nazi Germany. These days, it takes big money to put on big shows and the best way to get bums on seats is to roll out the big names. This time round, the Kit Kat Club starred Pop Idol winner and grannies’ favourite, Will Young, as the Emcee and ex-Eastender, ex-Bionic Woman, Michelle Ryan as Sally Bowles. Putting pop names in the frame isn’t always a recipe for success. Young Will was a tasty revelation. He stepped along with camp Teutonic aplomb and wowed the audience with voice and perfectly paced pathos. Michelle Ryan, on the other hand, was barely serviceable as Sally. Her voice simply isn’t strong or distinct enough to carry off the big numbers and her Julie Andrew’s impersonation had to be propped up by a more talented chorus line. In between the big budget numbers, the dislocated scenes with the run-of-the-mill supporting cast were pedestrian and the deliberate pregnant pauses gave the impression that lines had been fluffed or forgotten. Of course, I’m a small gun critic so what do I know? But I suspect that when the show hits the West End, the big guns may well turn on at least one of the the big names.
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Soho Cinders has a Ball
Picture it, a sultry night in sinful Soho and a pink twist on an old family favourite. Our penthouse pals treated us to a night at the theatre – a much appreciated welcome home gift. We took our seats at the Soho Theatre, artistic home to the innovative, the avant garde, the experimental and, sometimes, the plain bonkers. The intimate auditorium has a steep incline providing an unobstructed view of the snug stage and the bald spots in the rows below. The entertainment was Soho Cinders, a modern fable fit for the Grindr age. Think grubby spin doctor oiling the wheels, angelic rent boy trying to make an honest crust, clip joint sisters in pussy pelmets and ‘straight’ Tory politician knocking off the pretty boy on the side. The only Buttons on show were the ones on the punters who couldn’t keep their flies shut. It was fabulous. The score was full of fun and pathos, the lyrics were comically topical and the performances were bouncy and vital. The salacious sisters got my vote for the best lines. From one ugly trollop to the other:
You’re like a ten pin bowling ball – picked up, fingered and thrown back down the alley.
Cinders went to the glittery Ball and the rubber johnny fitted, giving a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘He’s behind you.’
I give you They Don’t Make Glass Slippers, one of the many splendid songs from the show.
Amadeus
We were listening to Classic FM. Up popped Mozart’s Symphony No 41 in C Major (the ‘Jupiter’). Magic memories came flooding back of Liam’s long past days when he played oboe in minor league orchestras. He gushed about how he was plucked from obscurity to fly solo oboe for the Amadeus masterpiece at Chelsea Town Hall in 1997. While he was practising his art in the grand Victorian hall on the ground floor, I was practising my trade in the Social Services Department in the basement. We never passed on the stairs and I didn’t get the chance to finger his instrument until 2006.
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Getting the Abbey Habit
West End super-hit Sister Act (developed from the Whoopi Goldberg movie) is on nationwide pilgrimage and arrived at the Theatre Royal, Norwich, in April. To celebrate this holy occasion, the theatre attempted to break the Guinness World Record for the most number of people dragged up as nuns in one place. Graham James, Bishop of Norwich, was ordained to judge the endeavour. The good Bishop was escorted by Jan McFarlane, Archdeacon of Norwich, who was dressed to impress in her big black dress. The Venerable Archdeacon said,
“It was frighteningly easy to find a habit. I thought about borrowing a real one but decided to get my own. I may have missed my true calling.”
Alas, the challenge fell rather short of the 251 needed to break the record. Liam was distraught at getting none of the nun fun. He was relishing the thought of running up a couple of habits on the old Singer.
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Someone Like You
Kym Ciftci is a Didim doll and a complete force of nature. Kym isn’t just a looker, she’s a talented looker. She has a gift for the song and for the word. Kym’s also got a soulful, silky voice and a heart as big as the Temple of Apollo. All this is coming together for one night only on the 5th of April in a brand new musical play called ‘Someone Like You’ which Kym has both written and directed. All proceeds will go to a local children’s charity. If Liam doesn’t receive the call from Blighty, we will be there to show our support. Be there or be square. It’s a weepy so make sure you bring a Kleenex.
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Norwich?!
This has been the loaded question from some of those in the loop. Do I sense smidgeon of incredulity? A soupçon of smugness? To be fair, until quite recently, all I knew of Norwich was the Sale of the Century from the Seventies, Bernard Matthew’s gobbling turkeys and the acronym, kNickers Off Ready When I Come Home. I used the latter in text messages to Liam when we were at it like rabbits during our honeymoon years. By common consent, the former Anglo-Saxon kingdom of East Anglia is full of in-breeds shagging their siblings and marrying their cousins (sound familiar?). This may be true in the rural flatlands of England’s gobbling breadbasket but surely not in the pretty cathedral city, a hidden gem with its student vibe, wine bars and arthouses. We are delighted to be joining the north folk of Norfolk as neo Norwichians (not to be confused with Norwegians who, as Vikings, did a bit of raping and pillaging in that part of our Sceptred Isle). And just in case you need further convincing, take a look at this:
Okay, Norwich didn’t win but we all know that Derry (or Londonderry, depending on what side of the fence you pray on) won for political reasons. Just in case you’re thinking of sending me outraged of Derry/Londonderry letters, I’m entitled to say that. I’m half Northern Irish and I don’t pray at all.
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Perking the Pansies 