Tuesday, April 08, 2014

100 Heroes of the University of Nottingham - centenary of the Students' Union

Saturday night was the exhibition opening event to celebrate 100 Heroes - the centenary of Nottingham's Student Union.

Students and alumni were invited alongside staff to nominate students, staff, and societies who they felt had made a significant contribution to the 100 years of the University and to its students. Somewhere between 700-800 individuals and groups were nominated.

Porters, cleaners and support staff were recognised alongside academic subject tutors who have gone the extra mile; clubs and societies, and the individuals who have worked on their behalf,  for all kinds of activities from the geeky to the physically sporty were picked out for their efforts; the first woman student union president, those who fought for the university charter, and those donated land to the University (Sir Jesse Boot, ta) were acknowledged for their efforts of leadership and championing of the University.

There was a spectacular cake commemorating the Crop-Up Gallery collective - a student run curatorial group set up by a recent graduate, Charlotte Hopson during her final year as a UG student.  Crop-Up designed and put together the whole exhibition and the exhibits around Portland, with Crop-Up participants tweeting their activities across the run-up to the event and the evening itself. Sadly, there were only crumbs left of the cake by the time we got back to the room!

And there was me. Because despite having only been at the university in a working role for 10 years, I'd been nominated and then selected as one of the 100 in the 'Unsung Heroes' category.

*blush*


I did know before the final selections were made that I'd had at least one nomination, as one of my ex-students emailed me and said he'd put me forward.  Shucks. (What was lovely was that he came along to the event with his girlfriend and we got to have a nice chat).  Then about a week ago, after I'd found out I'd been chosen, another former student contacted me forwarding the email she'd had confirming that her nomination - me - had been selected.  Double shucks. But it was only on the night itself, seeing the rolling display of winning heroes with some of the nomination statements that I realised I'd also been nominated by another former student, an international PhD student I'd worked with a few years ago. Treble shucks.

Anyway, Neil and I had a lovely evening.  A chance to dress up, I'm never going to turn that away!


Of course in some respects, it was about less about me than the whole collection of people that were being praised. For example, it was nice to talk to Professor Martyn Poliakoff (yes he is related to writer and director Stephen Poliakoff - brother), so a huge thanks to Neil for making Poliakoff's choice of tie (a classic chemistry prof tie) the starting point for a brief introduction and conversation.  Well known on You Tube for his contributions to the Periodic Table videos, It was a lovely little chat and he was utterly charming in the way that someone who looks like this exactly would be.


It was also pleasing to see some of those I work with getting (more) recognition.  These included the lovely Gaby for instance - picked out as one of those noted in the alumni press release for the event. Alongside Gaby, her husband Nick was also nominated, along with one of our Mental Health Advisers Claire (who really should have had a nomination on her own, alongside her colleague Farrah), and a couple of other professors I've worked with in the past in supporting students (the excellent Professors Liz Sockett and Hamish Forbes, who were very kind in saying how pleased they were I'd been nominated).  Overall, lots of really worthy people were identified but you can always pick out more.

For myself, I'd have loved to have seen nominations come to fruition for:
  • Dr. Carole East - one of the kindest colleagues one could wish to have, who has supported me through tears of all kinds over the last 10 years.  Her thoroughly deserved doctorate is merely the icing on the cake to her hard work and genuine caring attitude.
  • Dr Richard King - Emeritus Professor in American and Canadian Studies, Richard was a core part of the team who welcomed me into the American Studies department when I started my PhD.  Yes, Professor Douglas Tallack was the one who offered me the place to study; yes, Professor Sharon Monteith was the first to laugh with me at my massive bags I needed to carry as I travelled across the midlands to start my studying.  But it was certainly Richard who provided intellectually supportive and continuously gracious conversation to me whenever I seemed to need it most.  His encouragement was really important, and he was a beacon of southern charm that we all adored.
  • Professor Celeste-Marie Bernier - friend, chosen sister, fellow PhD student, a star of academia and an all-round marvellous person.  Celeste is one of the most hard-working academics I know: she puts in hours that would drain lesser-mortals and is firm, fair and intellectually challenging in a model that follows the example of Richard King in the best way possible.  She supported me through my final stages of completing my PhD and has been rightfully recognised by her students as a wonderful tutor and vibrant lecturer.  She's been on a major sabbatical for these past couple of years so maybe wasn't at the forefront of students minds recently, but she definitely should have been recognised.



Tuesday, March 25, 2014

"Anon, anon" - reflections and reminiscences on Henry IV Part I (RSC, Stratford upon Avon Thursday 20th March 2014)

Framing comment: My O level Shakespeare text was "Henry IV part I", which means it has a special place in my heart and memories (even though  the tape recording we were regularly subjected to at school was less than wonderful, with a Hotspur who had more accents than Russell Crowe was accused of having in Robin Hood).


We'll be seeing Part II later in the season, but for now I wanted to immerse myself in Part I, attempting to rid my mind of the experience of seeing this play at the Globe a few seasons ago with the marvellous Roger Allam as a memorable Falstaff.  I don't think I'll ever quite move Allam from my mind, but Sher is such a fine actor that he nevertheless takes the role on with glee and gusto.

The RSC under Greg Doran take a conventional medieval staging for Henry IV Part I, and bring a wonderful cast to the production with fine echoes for those who saw the earlier Richard II.  Indeed, the opening scene with King Bolingbroke, penitent and praying for forgiveness for his regicidal actions, is even haunted by the ghost of Richard. (I felt sorry for the actor who had to don Tennant's white robe and a wig to figure his presence from gloomy shadows on the balcony over the stage to Jasper Britton's still-shaken Henry IV).

Although we saw an early preview (first preview was 18 March), it already felt very polished as RSC productions usually do.  Sir Anthony Sher is clearly having a whale of a time, grizzling joyously as Sir John Falstaff.  He shakes effectively from the drink; he clearly adores Hal; and he is so in love with life that all his errant ways are but means to survive another day for drinking.  His deception is not malice - he believes his lies even as they run away from him ("A hundred upon poor four of us").

It is the interaction between Harry Monmouth (Prince Hal, wonderfully played by Alex Hassell) and merry Jack Falstaff that drives the force of the play as the Prince moves from his embedded life of wastrel indulgence and humour to bravery on the battlefield against his changeling 'brother-at-arms', the fiery Hotspur, Harry Percy.  Falstaff remains present throughout this shift and Hal cannot quite abandon his adoration of his alternative father figure, even as Falstaff blatently lies about killing Hotspur and feigning his own death.  Yet we know from early on that things will turn, as prefigured by the wonderful Act 2 scene 4. Both Hal and Falstaff play at being the King and exchange on the actions and merits of Hal's behaviour and the company he keeps: it is a comic and dangerous impersonation of the King that turns its humour on its head in two simple phrases: "I do.  I will."  Moreover, Hal has already let the audience in on his secret self (the soliloquy at the end of scene Act 1 scene 2), a self that he knows will willingly abandon his friends and bawdy life.  He will banish "plump Jack".  We know, eventually, he does.

But in the meantime, we have one of the Shakespearean plays that is most playful with genres, switching eagerly between history to tragedy to comedy.  There are battles, references back to the murder of Richard, deaths amongst the families (for so many are interrelated back through the bloodlines from King Edward III), but there are also the aforementioned mockeries of Kingship and courtly power, demonstrations of cowardice, bawdy associations and much drinking of sack.

For those who delight in ensemble performance, we have several casting reiterations from Richard II, that echo and re-employ actors to fine effect.  These include resurrected Antony Byrne, previously Mowbray, who comes back as Worcester, who does not take the King's advice to make peace and instead leads "three knights... a noble earl and many a creature a else" to their deaths in the culminating battle of the play,  Sean Chapman reappears as Northumberland, father to a maniacal Hotspur (Trevor White), with the latter all growed up from the feisty naif figure who appeared in Richard II (when played by Edmund Wiseman) into a positively unhinged warrior with a wife he doesn't quite deserve (Lady Kate Percy, played with considerable vigour by Jennifer Kirby).  Sam Marks, a finely sycophantic Bushy in Richard II, also reappears here, as foil to Prince Hal in the form of Poins, the transitional friend between the life that Hal appears to live (the sack-soaked clockless days with Falstaff, with the cries of "anon, anon" from hapless Francis) and the life of court and valour that as Prince Henry he will instinctively re-take by the end of the play.

What is charming about this production is that it does not appear that the cast/audience are forever waiting on Falstaff to reappear (although Sher is delightful and clearly appreciated by the ensemble cast).  Everyone holds their poise, even as Hotspur runs around the stage twitching for a fight, even as he finds he forgets the map that will mark out his borders of power (which of course he rails against).  At the centre of the play is the now quieted King, the Bolingbroke who took the crown from Richard's cousinly hand, who longs for a son who would live up to the bold actions of himself or at least that of rival Northumberland and his fearless son Hotspur.  But in the end, King Henry IV comes to realise that there is more to his seemingly errant son than wasted days of sack and whores alongside merry Jack, and that a Hotspur for a son is no gift at all as the latter rages to his death near pointlessly.  Of course we all love Falstaff's wit and self-delusion, but we also know that forces of power will move on and past him, that his beloved Hal will throw off his "loose behaviour" and shine far better as a son to the King, and that honour - that "mere scutcheon" - will come to the fore.

I'm looking forward to seeing Part II (which I am far less familiar with as a play, something I always like because I like not having too many preconceptions), not least to see more of Paola Dionisotti as Mistress Quickly, but also to watch Oliver Ford Davies, always an excellent actor, taking up the role of Shallow.  I'm also looking forward to seeing upcoming Elliot Barnes-Worrell more as Hal's brother Prince John. But that is for a later date.

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Apologies and something sweet

Gah - I had such plans.

Then Sherlock took over.



And there was Richard II at the Barbican (along with a backstage tour and a gloriously unexpected if fleeting collision with a certain cast member and his plaited hair on the stairwell).

And then there is life, and work, and choir, and all the usual.

So as recompense, here is a sweet video from The Big Bang Theory.  I know it's a bit love/hate for people, but we're rather fond in our house and this is a bit lovely.



Will try and do better...

Saturday, January 04, 2014

TV review: Sherlock Series 3 'The Empty Hearse'


They sure know how to make us wait.  After Sherlock series one positively snuck onto the radar in summer 2010 leaving everyone breathless in front of Moriarty in the swimming pool (no, not for those reasons fan-ficcers), it took til January 2012 before it came back and brought us Irene Adler and THAT FALL (not the one Eddie Mair so wittily tormented us about on Thursday*), and then they made us wait another two years till New Year's Day 2014 for some kind of resolution.

Worth the wait?  Hell yeah.  It was worth anxiously waiting for the screening dates for both the USA and UK (oh the uproar that the USA might get the show before the UK, or even that they should know their own screening dates before the UK did).  But oh wasn't it glorious when we saw the hearse announcing 1 January as the (predictable, but til then unrevealed) screening date for the start of season 3**.



The opening three minutes of 'The Empty Hearse' alone are worth watching (though you'd be deeply confused if you stopped there), not least because whilst those opening minutes draw on the mini-episode prequel - Many Happy Returns - you don't have to have watched the prequel to get the episode.


OBVIOUSLY, beyond this point, here lay SPOILERS.... (though I will try and keep to a minimum)

S

P

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Anyway: back to the opening minutes: throwing a curveball to the audience and we lapped it up.  The improbable yet daringly plausible, fan-pleasing, DerrenBrown-organised explanation for how Sherlock fell to his death and survived was breathtaking in its audacity and fan-poking.  It led into an 85 minute romp that rather felt like a trope-a-thon of fan-fic that Mark Gatiss couldn't resist clocking up:


  • The unrequited love heroine getting her snog (the adorable Molly Hooper - Louise Brealey)?  Check. (And she even got a proper, actual kiss - albeit on the cheek, before coming over with her own actual boyfriend "I've moved on" who embodied everything physically that BC could muster).
  • Bondage?  Check, as despite the long wig and unshaven face, speaking Serbian, you just knew, even before the analysing of the torturer's home life.  Oh and throw in a little adoration of the Cumberbatch body, muscular stripped physique. When the torturer exited, you just knew that the person in the corner - the unseen character - would be the ticket home. Pleading with a character who's gone off-grid to come back? Check.  
  • Moriarty and Holmes throwing a dummy off the roof before leaning in for a snog? Check. (Could have done without the fan-fic stereotypes, but they can be there for a reason.  Hilarious though to see Anderson, the loathsome forensics crime scene analyst, who hated and doubted Sherlock from the get-go, turn into theory-spouting believer).  And the snogging?  As Doctor Who explored "Is there a lot of that?" "It does start to happen".
  • The dissatisfaction with the canon's explanation/resolution of a problem? Check, check, check - certain sections will remain unconvinced they've been told the truth about Holmes' fall and resurrection.

It was some of the little details that were amongst the most pleasing: Cloud was most delighted with the step-down of the quality of eatery as Watson lost his temper with the re-emergent Holmes.  The dinner starts, with Watson's plan to get engaged to Mary***, at a high-end waiters-in-tails restaurant; after Watson attempts to beat and strangle Holmes the setting drops to a moderate Mediterranean-style restaurant; and following further violence, culminates in even being thrown out of a kebab take-away caff after a nutting.

It was hard to not also love the appearance of ma and pa Cumberbatch (Wanda Ventham and Timothy Carlton) as the Holmes' boys parents.  This also provided a nice touch and a glaring reminder to the cross-over Doctor Who fanbase that ma C was in stories across the first three decades of the show's history.

As for the 'threat', the crime of the narrative, well it was as disposable as it needed to be.  Almost a Maguffin. And whilst the bonfire rescue was tense, we knew (surely we knew) there would be no demise.  Didn't we? Could we be so sure in the wake of the fall from the roof, those final seconds of season 2, that had thrown us all into a tailspin?

Amidst such fan-pleasing pleasures, it would be easy to lose sight of the fact that this is a drama, written, directed, filmed and acted by some very brilliant people.  Freeman especially continues to impress as Watson, who can swallow silently, hard and conveying a variety of emotions without saying anything.

Ultimately it was a confection of delights, a go-with-the-ride immersion in London and Sherlockology.  Welcome home Holmes.  We have missed you.




* Dry Mr Mair did his usual trick of tantilising the listeners to Radio 4 PM with the idea that he'd "reveal the truth about 'that fall' on New's Year's Day", only to play the clip of Nigel Pargetter falling from the roof in The Archers.  "The truth?  He died."

** It was an accident of circumstance (not planning) that we happened to be in London on the day that fans had been advised we should 'keep a look-out in and around the centre of London'.  It took me a few seconds at the crossing by Big Ben/Palace of Westminster as a car approached the junction to process that it was a hearse - and then as it passed..."OH MY GOD, it's the Sherlock Hearse!!!!  1 January 2014!!!! YAY!!!!!!"  I may have been a bit excited.

*** Mary played by Freeman's real life partner Amanda Abbington is great.

Friday, January 03, 2014

The Vault: Doctor Who book review

It is pretty beautiful it has to be said.  I had been picking this up and considering it since it was released and resisted admirably.

Very glad I did, as it turned up as a very delightful Christmas present and as soon as I picked it up - wrapped - I felt the heft, the shape, and just KNEW what it was even before opening it!

The Vault is like a treasure trove of Doctor Who memorabilia and objects from the show's history up to date.  The images capture scripts, memos, toys, props, clothes, stills, designs... everything you could want to peek at and more.

The SFX review has very nice images illustrating sample pages but the glossy gorgeousness can't really be stated - it has to be experienced.




I'd like to visit the Doctor Who Museum though...



Thursday, January 02, 2014

A song for the day - Meditative Music


How apt that there should be a meditative journey to illustrate this meditative song - Micah P Hinson's "The Day Texas Sank to the Bottom of the Sea".  A soaring organ this time rather than strings, but the same effect.

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

That end of Christmas TV review (2013)

Let's take these in order of broadcast even though they weren't necessarily watched in order.

Raised by Wolves
Caitlin Moran is awesome and always has been.  Her book 'How to be a Woman' is by turns hilarious, painful and angry.  If you can cope with the language (typically Moran-esque) then do read it.  It sits on the shelf alongside the equally wonderful Hadley Freeman's 'Be Awesome', which is another book that is hilarious, painful and angry.  Both should be recommended reading for any young woman who can cope with the swearing.

Anyway, all that is by extension a way in to discussing the pilot episode of a fictionalised drama by the Moran sisters Caitlin and Caroline about growing up in Wolverhampton - updated to the present day.  If anything that settng is actually its only downfall, as it makes it too much like Shameless for people who hated Shameless (me and he), when it could have been the equivalent of 'Everybody Hates Chris'.  But then again, Moran is nothing if not against faux-nostalgia, so why not update things? The two leads - the equivalent of Caitlin and her elder sister - are brilliant, the other kids in the large family are suitably adorable/kooky, and mum (played by versatile Rebekah Staton) uses 'David Cameron' as a swear-word.  Brilliant.  Okay, it was WEIRD seeing Inspector Japp from Poirot turn up as weed-smoking Grampy, but hey...

Worth a commission, but more Wolverhampton please. (Actresses Helen Monks and Alexa Davies are far left and right, with the Moran sisters in the centre of the image)


Doctor Who: The Time of the Doctor
As we were out on Christmas Day(and what a wonderful day it was!), there was a frantic drive to make it back in time for this and we made it by the skin of our skin.  The second that the TV went on and came to life, that was the second that the voice-over and episode started.  Cutting a bit fine.  Rather like the episode.

It would be hard to top the excess of emotions that came with the 50th anniversary episode (The Day of the Doctor), or even the season finale earlier in the summer (The Name of the Doctor), so this episode - carrying the weight as it did of being both Christmas episode and Matt Smith's farewell to the role AND being lumbered with a 'how-will-they-resolve-the-regeneration-problem?' - was always destined to be weighed down with more expectations than could reasonably be managed.  Tennant got two hours of farewell and got to leave on New Year's Day so he didn't have to have his departure carry the same weight as a 'jolly' Christmas episode.

As it was, the episode still managed to be lovely and charming and thrilling, just not in the proportions it probably should have been.  The Christmas bits were charming - even the madness of recognisable actors in blink and miss roles - and the Town called Christmas looked beautiful.  Moffat tied up a good number of the threads marked 'Later' - Silents, cracks, the Question - and Smith got a stunning farewell speech and a moment with Amy. Stuart quoted it:
His final speech is sheer poetry, good enough to put in an upmarket Christmas cracker. Here it is in full. “It’s started. I can’t stop it now, this is just the reset. A whole new regeneration cycle. Taking a bit longer. Just breaking it in. It all just disappears doesn’t it, everything you are gone in a moment like breath on a mirror? Any moment now, he’s a comin’ … The Doctor …. And I always will be. But times change and so must I. Amelia! The first face this face saw. We all change when you think about it. We are all different people all through our lives and that’s ok, you gotta keep moving so long as you remember all the people that you used to be. I will not forget one line of this. Not one day. I swear. I will always remember when the Doctor was me.” Then his actual final line. “Hey.” Sob again.

There were funny moments in 'The Time of the Doctor' (yes, damn me, I did chuckle at the naked/clothes bit, but not half as much as the line about Ten being vain) but the episode was undeniably unbalanced in trying to juggle Christmas with the end of the Doctor.  It just felt.. rushed, pushed, cramped... it needed space to breathe.  It needed BUDGET not just in terms of money - though what was spent, looked well-spent - but also time within the schedule.  (I've forgotten where I read it, but someone repeatedly kept reminding us, 'budget, budget, budget'.)

What saved it?  Re-watching helps enormously.  Like several broadcasts that could charm enough first time around but benefit from the extra thoughtfulness of re-watching, this is a grower.  The love and mixed emotions of first time around glow brighter with each re-watch. But there was already so much there to love and cherish. Well, Matt Smith was pretty damn awesome, and not just when he was pretending that Caitlin Blackwood hadn't inevitably grown up a damn lot since being Amelia four years ago and he was having to fantasise about another young actress with red hair being the 'first face he ever saw'.  Nice touch to have grown-up Amy back though for one last goodnight for the Raggedy Man. Smith also aged well, bringing a Hartnell-esque presence to the final days of the Doctor protecting Christmas.

Jenna Coleman had to do a lot with little - and a turkey, and being reminded again that "the Doctor always lies" - and had to cope with having a rather wonderful gran and a difficult pairing of (not)dad and step-mother. But she did it well and I really want her to stay around a while with the new incomer (if only in the hope that Idris/TARDIS doesn't throw a complete hissy at not having anyone who knows how to fly her around). Orla Brady - beautiful, delectable Natasha Tem (an alt River Song - see Allyn Gibson's comment after Stuart's review) for the end of Eleven/Twelve/Thirteen's days) - brought her usual grace, elegance and mischief to the proceedings and proves again why she is gorgeous in everything (the angel housekeeper Mrs Sheringham in Eternal Law, a lovely guilt pleasure from last year, and especially as Peter Bishop's mother Elizabeth in Fringe). And that's before we get to weeping angels in the snow, a wooden cyberman, Handles the talking cabbage, Daleks being taken down in a flame of semi-controlled regenerative energy, and children's drawings.  Phew.... and breathe...


So, there was a lot to take in, at the end of this Doctor's time, and a lot of emotion to be caught and distilled.  In the end, it was what we probably needed to expect with some glorious extras to sweeten the pill.  Raggedy Man, Goodnight.

Downton Abbey - Christmas Special
What can I say?  Mother-in-law had coped with me harassing us home in time (just) for Doctor Who, so we let her watch Downton.  We have never watched Downton before.  We almost certainly won't again.  But 1923 is a VERY good year for frocks and hats and the narrative was sufficiently self-contained (with some 'you-couldn't-avoid-knowing-that' stuff) to be watchable for a pair of novices like Neil and I.

Did I mention I like the clothes?



Death Comes to Pemberley
I think that in some ways Pride and Prejudice and Zombies did greater justice to Austenesque writing, but this was an enjoyable period romp/murder mystery with a suitably utterly irksome Lydia (Jenna Coleman, paired again with Matthew Goode from Dancing on the Edge, one of the year's broadcasting highlights).  Of course, one key reason for me and Neil watching was to as ever worship at the feet of adorable Anna Maxwell Martin.  She made a wonderful older Lizzie Bennet, and Matthew Rhys a dark Darcy (he also made a fine John Jasper in the Edwin Drood adaptation of early 2012). Pemberley divided opinions apparently.  A shame, I think, as I rather agree with the Telegraph reviewer Sarah Crompton:
They weren’t Austen’s creations, they weren’t the characters conjured up by PD James – and they certainly weren’t Ehle and Firth. But they stayed in my mind as the credits rolled, as honourable incarnations of a great literary couple.


The Thirteenth Tale
Hokum.  But superior hokum in the style of Virginia Andrews.  Great cast - the thankfully ubiquitous Olivia Coleman (may she keep being everywhere when she's this good) and the once again flame-haired Vanessa Redgrave.  Lucy Mangan does a good non-spoilery review which captures the insane twisty tale which waved flags at its explanation from relatively early on.  Who cares?  It was very watchable.


I suspect that all of these will turn up on Masterpiece (which seems to be co-credited on just about everything these days!) if it hasn't already been broadcast - Doctor Who breaks records now in the USA, even if it is just on BBC America.

Enjoy and happy new year!

Doctor Who | Goodbye Raggedy Man | Matt Smith 2010 - 2013

Sunday, December 22, 2013

Nearly, nearly Neily Christmas: some seasonal songs


Ah Bellowhead at Christmas! Christmas Bells for Number one!


When the Thames Froze by Smith and Burrows - still one of my favourite recent Christmas songs


Just like Christmas by Low - their Christmas EP still tingles


Snow angel by Ron Sexsmith - rather fond of this songster


Christmas TV by Slow Club - rather charming


New York City by They Might be Giants - "Three days from New York City and I'm three days from you"

Season's Greetings people!

Friday, December 13, 2013

I blinked and it was nearly Christmas...

Apologies: I have tried - honest. But work has been demented (as FB readers will know, Neil especially has been working stupid hours) and things just ran away from me.

Over the last few weeks since I last posted:

  • 26 November - late drop-in session at Uni library, plus final choir rehearsal session for Nottingham
  • 29 November - up at the crack of dawn pre-dawn for a day trip to London. Brilliant but exhausting!
  • 30 November - travel up to Sheffield for final (and compulsory) rehearsal for our end of season concert at Elsecar Heritage Centre, followed by fish and chips at Whitbys (the restaurant, not the town)
  • 1 December - hair appointment at my hairdresser's house (couldn't fit me in at the salon due to me and Helen attending the final Stratford Upon Avon Richard II performance, followed by Doctor Who 50 weekend - although it also has to be said my lovely hairdresser was away 23-29 inclusive!) and I needed to be done before...
  • 3 December - end of season Nottingham BeVox concert
  • 7 December - The Circle of Life, the big BeVox concert for the season, where I only performed in the matinee and thus missed...

Tim proposing to Toni

It's been busy.

Tonight is the works Christmas party.  Woot (not).  Neil has his at lunchtime (hope not too drunk).

No I still have not really started let alone finished my Christmas shopping or card writing... still, i am wearing some fetching tinsel....


Sunday, November 24, 2013

And breathe.... overload in the realm of Doctor Who - anniversary weekend madness

I'm still feeling a bit giddy actually, like I've had the biggest sugar rush ever invented: a total overdose of Doctor Who-ness.  Good for me?  No idea.  Probably not.  Don't care.

I kept my promise (mostly): no spoilers pre-episode.  I've been scarcely reading DWM for months (skipping with eyes closed over the news pages and even avoiding the covers on occasion).  I gave in over the mini-episode 'The Night of the Doctor' because the star of it created such a stir that I couldn't avoid or resist it.


But apart from the 50th trailer - bringing together the Doctors so far, I was good.


I stuck my fingers in my ears and la-la-la-ed my way through several weeks of speculation, building to a positive avalanching crescendo as the day approached.  Radio, television, everything.  Heck, even the BBC World Service joined in! It's a good job I frequently subvert the fact that I totally need glasses to read now and all-too often try to access social media on my phone: this helped in la-la-la-ing there as well.  If I can hardly see and I only post, well I couldn't get spoilered.

I wasn't alone in this venture: one of my students (bless her) was doing the same, and so was one of the staff at Nottingham's Broadway cinema, where we went to watch an encore screening today.  Like me, they too had succumbed to the pre-episode, but beyond that we had been 'good people'.  No I don't know how (or why) we did it: it just felt right.

Part of me wanted to be with the 'we' watching the live simulcast in cinemas, but I knew I needed to soak it at home first, in private.  What if it was truly awful?  Wouldn't it be horrible to be with others and feel nothing but total disappointment, confusion, despair? What if THEIR reactions rubbed off - negatively - on me? (And yes, I'm aware of those who truly felt that way about the episode: I respect them, and can see their points which are no doubt founded on sincere belief and interpretation, and yet with all my heart, I don't care and cannot go that way).

So for the first viewing I watched it at home, with my 'semi-we', the not-quite-anoraked but long-time part-converted Neil. (Despite occasional protestations about my obsessive interest in Doctor Who, we've worked out that his partial conversion phase has been going a LONG time. We calculated, pace the emergency TV purchase moment on Wednesday, that when we had bought a portable TV in haste many years ago when our first TV blew up - smokey cathode ray and all - that the timing of that rushed purchased, carryied portable TV across Wolverhampton, was for... yup, the Paul McGann TV movie of Doctor Who.  How nothing changes....)

At first we set up with just an upright standard lamp on: "too bright" said my semi-we, so into darkness we went with just the glow of the TV.  Save the day?  This was definitely The Day of the Doctor.  A dark room, a winter's night, and all of time and space ahead of us.

Oh my.  Was it what I wanted?  I honestly do not know.  Was it what I needed?  Yes.  Ten took a lot of hearts into him when he appeared and when Tennant regenerated it broke a lot of those hearts and it felt right and reflective that his parting words were "I don't want to go".  We didn't want him to.  Plenty have still not come to terms with Eleven (and as both an established and yet also Ten fan, I nevertheless have thought Eleven very good indeed, though not always well served by the scripts/direction). 

Anyway, this time around there was a smile to Ten re-uttering the departing words (not least because they had been deployed so magnificently by David Bradley as William Hartnell just two days earlier in the frankly BREATHTAKING 'An Adventure in Space and Time'*).  Ten's traits were both mocked and lauded, noted and admired... out there somewhere, the Tenth is still running and that will always be happening in our hearts.  Having him back, the same suit, the same smile, the same screwdriver... it felt like coming home, and yet also a coming home that was growing up.  Like going away to University. I'd have him back for good in heartbeat (or two), but as he'll always be there - part of whatever Doctor there is - and yet I also know I can't expect that it can be forever.  Change...?

I'm rambling: I've hardly slept in days - excitement and exhaustion in equal measure.  In between everything I went to see Bellowhead and had a great time, but ended up looking like I'd stepped from a shower of sweat.  It's kinda been a bit much really.

What I loved (too many things to list):
  • Ten was back - romantic, getting it wrong, being cocky and confused with bunny-infused energy.  God, I've missed him.  He was also, as Tennant can also do, sad, weary, aware and regretful.  Loved it.
  • Eleven and 'the Curator' in front of painting - brilliant.  And I was totally not expecting that thanks to avoiding spoilers.
  • Zygons!  Love a bit of doppelganger shape-shifting.
  • Kate Lethbridge-Stewart asking about "Codename Cromer", whose files were from "the 1970s or 1980s depending on the dating protocol".  Ah, U.N.I.T dating....
  • The 3-D paintings - beautiful
  • Shakespeare links - Jonjo O'Neill and Peter de Jersey.  *sigh*
  • The grown-up mocking the boys: Oh, John Hurt, you are a star.
  • Compensating sonic screwdrivers and water pistols...
  • Cameos from the doctors, saving the day - with a near-miss from Eccleston 
  • The relief that Rose Tyler WASN'T Rose Tyler, and that Ten wasn't half-Ten from the parallel universe (ably phrased at 8.20pm by the original not-we, the Wife in Space, Sue Perryman in the Guardian live blog - my response to this exchange between Neil and Sue got a thumbs up from them, which may qualify as my personal squee moment):
    • I think it's safe to say that this is the real tenth Doctor and not the sex toy version given to Rose
    • Sue: Every version of the tenth Doctor is a sex toy version, Neil.
  • Peter Capaldi!  Looking forward already!
What didn't work as well:
  • Eccleston doing Malekith in Thor instead of DW50: seriously dude, you were missed
  • The not-we probably had a hard time keeping up, but was this really for them?
  • The reboot of Gallifrey and the Time War - I'm ambivalent about this, rather than anti because I guess it depends on where we go next.
  • Some of the 3-D effects felt gratuitous whilst other moments barely felt 3-D at all.  But that reflects my problem with 3-D and not this episode.

And after this, I watched 'The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot', which qualifies as the best way that the current production team could sanction including the old Doctors without having them in the episode itself.  All hail Five, Peter Davison, as magician for this witty and warm subversion of the anniversary.

As I said, today we did it all again in public (some couldn't quite manage to do this properly: 3-D jokes made by Tennant about things pointing out the screen.... oh dear).  This made the adventure alive all over again, with extra 3-Dness.  A pleasure to behold.  Overdone in parts, underdone in others.  But overall a pleasure: I wouldn't say Moffat did us proud (as the OTT after-show claimed) but it was what I needed.  A baffling celebration of something wonderful, confusing, and amazing.



I want to see the 100th anniversary episode, and not just because it will be in 12-D.



* 'An Adventure in Space and Time' was Mark Gatiss doing a hymnal to Doctor Who and to BBC Television Centre.  Beautiful, poignant, bittersweet and perfectly rendered on every level, this will for some be *THE* 50th Anniversary treat, perhaps more so than the anniversary episode itself.  They have different beauties to my mind, but Bradley deserves every award going for his portrayal of the First Doctor.



Thursday, November 21, 2013

A week is a long time in culture: Thor - The Dark World; Richard II - Stratford final performance; the loveliness of David Tennant; and upcoming Doctor Who business

This time last week I was getting myself mentally prepared for some Avengers nonsense - Thor: The Dark World was hardly going to set cinematic history alight, but it was entertaining and worth the price of admission for the response to Loki in manacles (Tom Hiddleston).


But in some respects, that was merely a prelude to the bigger event: by Thursday we had (finally!) got confirmation that our friend was (a) definitely going to be able to meet us in Stratford on Avon on the Saturday, and (b) would be at the final evening performance at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre for us seeing yet again Richard II.

Phew.  Palpable relief, especially as SHE had the tickets and I had been unsuccessfully trying to pay her back for these since February!

Meeting up after such a long time to have dinner together was lovely - lots of theatre talk, lots of Shakespeare talk.  Walking to the theatre, dressed in my finery was even better.


Getting INTO the theatre and finding that Row B seats 48 and 49 in the stalls is *really flipping close to the STAGE!!!!* was quite frankly almost more than our brains could cope with without proper preparation.

Yes, you really are VERY close.  You can see things at that distance that are less clear when further away. It remains a stunning production of this play.

And at the end: someone from the side of the stage threw on a bouquet of flowers and it landed perfectly in the centre; when it was picked up by David Tennant, he immediately turned, went down on one knee and presented them to the astonishingly wonderful Jane Lapotaire. I did not think I would be fortunate enough to see her on stage after her illness - her performances and that moment was sublime to enjoy.  I hope they raised a lot of money from the collections for the Philippines after both the matinee and final performance: I think they will have done.  I cannot imagine anyone not digging into their purse following a request from David.

It took a bottle of wine sat outside at the Dirty Duck til midnight, and then mucho hysterical conversation til about 3am, to even get CLOSE to calming sufficiently to sleep.  This week has therefore been punctuated by my mostly being a zombified teenager. Heck even my boss said on Monday "you look tired": I had to admit it was entirely self-inflicted.

Tuesday was choir day - penultimate rehearsal week for our local BeVox gig, with one more to come ahead of the big concert day 'A Circle of Life' on 7th December at Elsecar Heritage Centre.

But Tuesday was dominated by something else: a thanks-be to the graciousness of Mr Tennant.  Although initially confused by her text messages reporting tearful snottiness, that I "would know why", and that she couldn't talk, with a bit of untangling - mostly me getting the penny to drop - I finally worked out that this was a GOOD NEWS text.  I nervously asked "he did it?"

Oh yes.



Bless you, sir: you are a prince, nay a KING amongst men and I thank you profusely.

It has taken a while to come down from that high of making a friend so very happy, but last night was pretty much a reminder that without planning things can go very wrong indeed.

Now some of you may have spotted that something celebrates 50 years of wonderfulness this weekend and there has been a fair amount of coverage.  (I also do not think it a coincidence that the final shows of Richard II were scheduled to finish LAST weekend, leaving this one nice and free for certain fans to sit and watch the celebrations).

So it was not a happy Lisa who found her TV remote/sensor not functioning last night on her (admittedly) VERY old CRT television just three days ahead of the big event.  We have been talking about replacing the hefty box one for many years and I have kept putting things off.  Finally it seemed that my procrastination had caught up with me and at just the wrong time!

Cue a frantic run out of the house at 8.30pm to buy a universal remote, batteries (proper bunny ones), and a new if small TV - with a wide screen so we don't miss the edges (as we do now).

Phew.

I can breathe in time for the 23rd November.

Friday, November 15, 2013

"I do acupuncture": theatre review of The Duck House @ Nottingham Theatre Royal Monday 11 November 2013


Farce is one of those beasts that potentially doesn't translate very well; what it has in its universal favour are of course the slapstick and visual elements.  Mixing farce and politics might therefore seem to be limiting the success of the translatable elements for jokes specific to audience knowledge and understanding - and in the case of The Duck House, recall of political history.

Thankfully, in picking as their focal point the MPs expenses scandal that occurred in 2009, a year before the last general election, authors Dan Patterson and Colin Swash (veterans of Mock the Week and Have I got news for you respectively) have identified a topic and political period that

a) most will have heard about (it was everywhere on the UK news right through til the election, and continues to be an issue)

b) lets audiences spot where political beliefs and stances have changed / not changed in the meantime (I expect Nottingham is not the audience who will be WAY ahead of a line about the integrity of the Liberal Democrats and Nick Clegg).

The choice of the MPs expenses scandal therefore still relies on drawing an audience inclined to care about politics, but in practice 'interested in current affairs/events' probably suffices.  The play is certainly 'apolitical' in its attacks on politicians, with no party coming out of the events clean (as was the case in the expenses scandal itself).  Satire would be too generous a term to describe the bones of the play, and so farce is what it is.

With lead Ben Miller - an active Twitter user - able to charm an audience from the moment he walks on stage (though even he looked a little taken aback at the Nottingham welcome he got for turning up), this is a very frothy production, but having Nancy Carroll as the MP's wife certainly brings some good acting chops to the production.  (Though she is given the dim housewife role, she conveys with aplomb a particular stereotype of politician's wife).

I'm loath to go into too much detail on the 'plot', or rather events, but it may help to say that there are all the desired elements one would want and expect from a farce and more:

  • people running in and out of doors avoiding each other and missing each other (check - and up and down stairs as well)
  • lost trousers and torn clothes (check)
  • coincidences of where people are and should be (check)
  • errant props adding the expected unexpected to certain scenes (check - see how the hanging baskets fare if you go to watch the play)
  • sexual innuendo (check, along with plenty of barely double entendres, more like single ones: no surprises that acupuncture covers more than needles)
  • stereotypes of all types (check, check, check as above with the wife, and so again with the Russian cleaner...)
The key thing is, "is it funny?" well, yes of COURSE it is.  Is it a scathing scabrous assault on politics?  Not in the slightest. Are the female characters underwritten?  As is often typical of farce, unfortunately yes - though as Ludmilla the Russian cleaner, Debbie Chazen* is superb, wring every ounce of ire from a character who has learnt all about British culture from the Daily Mail. 

You probably won't want to meet Simon Shepherd face to face in the immediate aftermath of seeing the play (his character comes off worst for inevitable humiliation) but you'd have to either not get the political context and/or not find farce funny (which I accept is not a form of theatre everyone likes).  The production is lighter than air - and if taken on those terms possibly the most fun you can have whilst watching a panda suit and a nappy on stage.

*approaching midnight on Monday when I suddenly clicked that I'd seen her in Doctor Who Voyage of the Damned.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Another Richard of a darker hue: "I am determined to prove a villain" - comedy and tragedy in Richard III, Nottingham Playhouse Saturday matinee 9th November 2013

The rivalry between Nottingham and its local cousins is pretty formidable (ah, we're back to cousins again, following my previous Richard and Shakespeare review).  We hate Derby - and they hate us; there are long-standing rows about ownership of Robin Hood with Doncaster; and the tension with Leicester is hardly much better in the wake of them finding Richard III in a car park (witness the nose-to-thumb laughter of Leicester prominently sponsoring posters for the University of Leicester right outside the University of Nottingham campuses: "What will YOU discover? indeed...).

Thankfully, Nottingham Playhouse in its 50th year knows how to lay claim and does so with a taught and wickedly funny production of Richard III, with a fine Arturo Ui a couple of years back - storming the audience's affections for the deformed hedgehog of Shakespeare's Plantagenet-maligning drama.



This is only my third Richard III on stage (the first being Sir Ian McKellan way back when, and the second Jonjo O'Neill in 2012), and this one makes for an interesting combination of the previous two I've seen.*

The staging is wonderfully done and all credit to the staff who have put together this production.  Projection is especially well used, not least for the haunting ghost sequence near the end of King Richard's victims.  But the staging also makes inspired use of the auditorium, including locating Act 3 scene 7 (the pre-interval part of the play) with elegant intrusion into the space.  Our scheming Duke of Gloucester, Richard, is being promoted by his spin-doctor Buckingham,  piously lit on the circle balcony reading a bible (upside-down at first) whilst around and amidst the audience, the 'crowd' clamours for Richard's kingship, encouraged by Buckingham's promotion.  I love how the Playhouse often do this, making the most of the limited thrust of the stage by integrating actors comings, goings, contributions and performances into the wider space amongst the audience.  By the end of said scene (Act 3 scene 7), the projection shows us soon-to-be-King Richard hooting with laughter at how he has successfully conned everyone to his cause.

Of course, the production has limitations, not least those imposed by costs - one feels for a cast that has to keep going on crutches, which Charles Daish does in the role of Clarence (a truly above and beyond call of duty performance induced by an on-stage accident early in the run, and demonstrating how lucky the RSC is at having understudies).  But it is partly because of such limitations, that this is a clever and innovative production.  Moreover, such inspired hard work and exploitation of stage resources highlights the incomprehensibility of Notts County Council (I long to remove a strategic 'o' from that name) proposing to cut 100% of their (limited but crucial) contribution to the Playhouse budget.

Bartholomew is a fine lead for the cast, who all do justice to this potentially over-familiar play (and certainly an over-familiar character and characterisation).  He is schemingly funny and wry, and just laugh-out-loud hilarious in some of his manipulation.  And in a play that has limited power for women, the female members of the cast make good their contributions: Lady Anne (Natalie Burt), Edward's Queen Elizabeth (Siobhan McCarthy) and the Duchess of York, mother to the "proud, subdued, bloody, treacherous" Richard (Act 4 scene 4), as she so acutely describes him.  I was personally very impressed as well with Nyasha Hatendi, who - especially as Richmond - was superb.  A real tingle accompanied those speeches in Act 5 scenes 3 and 5.


A little news item including a clip of Bartholomew as Richard III

The Bardathon - Dr. Peter Kirwan (whose reviews are always worthwhile, and indeed at one point I lost a whole day reading the archive)

Nottingham Evening Post Review

*Though unsurprisingly I have a keen fondness for the radio version done with Douglas Henshall as Richard, even though it wasn't to everyone's tastes: Radio Drama Review provides a nice overview of its charms.