So what have I been doing with my evenings I hear you ask? Surely in the entertainment capital of the world (conditions apply, I hear New York might not agree) there is loads to do.
Well yes there is loads to do but if you are as loath to plan ahead too far, as I am, then you might find there is bugger all to do in the evenings. I did get some tickets to a BBC radio recording which I arranged weeks ago, but this is pretty much the only thing I had arranged before I got here. So what to do?
Well you could brave the half-price ticket booths which are all round the place here and see if you can get some returns. In fact there a so many "half-price" places here it begs the question of who actually pays for full price tickets? I suspect that half price may be a bit of an exaggeration i.e. a complete lie.
Another option is to traipse round the theatre box offices and try and get a bargain. This does sometimes happen as they often release a tranche of £10 tickets each morning to ensure the place is full. This was what I was going to do to see Privates On Parade, and yes it does sound like a musical version of a Carry On movie. Unfortunately the box office doesn't open till 10 and I was already in the anatomy exhibit at the museum of London by then. The third option is to completely fluke it. This is the option I chose.
Before I came there had been lots of tweeting from Stephen Fry about the version of Twelfth Night he was in at the Globe and I thought that sounded like fun. Unfortunately by the time I got here the Globe would be closed for the winter and I'd be out of luck. There was some Shakespeare on in The West End but it was Richard III and my winter is already discontenty enough thanks very much. However, for once the gods of theatre, or Time Out magazine to be more accurate, we're on my side. It turns out that Dick III and Twelfth Night were in rep together, both playing sort of simultaneously. So it was still on! Off to the website I trundle to book tickets only to find that premium seats are the only ones left. Hmmm, well I'm sure that won't be too expensive. After all there are no royalty fees to pay to Shakespeare as its pretty much out of copyright now.
£80 and a bit of hyperventilating later I was the owner of seat H13 at the Apollo on Shaftesbury Avenue. Only for three hours mind. For that money I thought I'd have it in perpetuity. How on earth can it cost that much to see Shakespeare thought I?
Well pretty easily it turns out when I read the programme and discovered that, unlike amateur productions which make Olivia's frock out of an old tablecloth, this version had the silk woven especially by some artisan somewhere. The set was made out of oak. And the cast were actually in the process of holding two full length Shakespearian plays in their heads. AT THE SAME TIME! I think they deserve a pretty big pay check for that alone. I could barely remember enough quotes to pass my English Lit O Level. In fact I didn't pass my English Lit O Level so there you go, though I partly blame Mrs Protheroe for that as she was the worst teacher of Shakespeare my school could find. Possible something to do with the fact that she was a fully qualified music teacher.
The whole experience was fantastic to be honest. At the Apollo I mean, not at school. I did study Twelfth Night for my mock exams (failed those too) but I don't remember it actually being funny. But it is when real actors do it and it's not being read by semi literate 15 year olds in a demountable classroom on a rugby pitch. The seat was great, right in the middle and not far back and when I got there the cast were all having their makeup and hair done on stage. I think this was an affectation and not a comment on the state of the dressing rooms of west end theatres. It was odd but quite interesting. I also thought it was a bit odd that some of the actors appeared to be putting on very big frocks. Oooooh. It's an all male version. All very authentic. I've never seen one of these and suspected it might be a bit lame and gimmicky. It actually was brilliant, in no small part because of the actors skills and mainly because of the plot: A girl gets shipwrecked and disguises herself as a boy then falls in love with her master who doesn't realise she's a girl while at the same time he's in love with another woman who is in love with our heroine while she's dressed as a boy and there's a brother and a manservant and lots of mistaken identity. You know, the usual completely realistic high art plot points (opera is pretty much the same, but then so is panto. Go figure).
Anyway the fact that the girls were played by boys dressed as girls and one boy was dressed as a girl dressed as a boy added quite a bit of hilarity and sauciness to the proceedings. I definitely don't remember so much thinly veiled homoeroticism in the reading at high school. It was altogether brilliant. I laughed and three hours flew by, which is more than can be said for the Les Mis movie. I'm pretty sure that if I had seen it at the Globe there would have been more audience participation (the cast really had to work to make us join in, which is surprising considering how much other noise the audience was making. The constant coughing added some consumptive authenticity I suppose) but the seats would have been much more uncomfy.
I'd recommend going to see it, but it's sold out and finishes in a few weeks so you can't. Sorry. There's a review HERE which is much more eloquent than I can be.
The next night was a completely different ball game. I was having a look online and saw a lecture advertised at the British Film Institute about the representation of ancient Egypt in TV and film. I thought it sounded interesting and sounded a bit Victorian, you know, attending a public lecture for the edification and education of the public.
How wrong I was. My first warning should have been the other people who turned up in the audience. Lots of twitching, mumbling and nylon socks. It turns out that the BFI lectures are for freaks and weirdos and involve a couple of lecturers from UCL showing clips from bad, so so bad, 1970s ITV dramas blatantly not illustrating the complex educational points they are trying to make. It also allows them to show absolutely loads of clips from Dr Who. This explained the nylon sock brigade. About an hour of Dr Who through the ages, out of context admittedly, just proved to me how utterly terrible it was and still is. Avoid then the BFI lecture series. Unless you are a lover of man made fibre.
Last night was my aforementioned trip to the BBC to see the recording of Elvenquest. It's a spoof of every epic questing story you've ever read or seen and it's surprisingly funny. It was great just to be able to get inside Broadcasting House and see the people working in the newsroom. Well I say working, it must be a bit hard to concentrate with five tv monitors in every workspace and robotic cameras flying over head. The recording was in the Radio Theatre but we were all held in the bar area till it started. It was very much like being at the Goldfields Rep Club but with better coffee. In fact the similarities were enhanced when the front of house woman arrived. She was old, confusing and very disorganised. Makes me even more proud of the BBC.
The recording was fascinating and confirmed a few things I've always suspected about the Beeb. Firstly the sound system in the theatre was amazing, the sound effects perfect and interval music unusual. Secondly it would appear that they still draw all their production staff from expensive schools, judging by Sam our producer for the night. Very posh, very floppy haired and about fifteen years old.
The cast were great, with Steven Mangan and Darren Boyd and Kevin Eldon. Three of my favourite comic actors in the world. It never ceases to amaze me that actors who become really successful will still return to the BBC to make a silly little radio show. I think it shows the love and esteem that such an odd institution engenders. I wonder if Fox has the same loyalty? If you are ever in London you should try and get tickets for a BBC show. They're free and really let you see the process involved. In fact actors must love radio. No costumes, no make up, no scene changes and you just read the script while you're going along.
Anyway it's my last day in the big smoke and the only place left on my list of to dos is closed on Mondays. Bum! So I need to kill four hours while carrying all my luggage on my back. That is the worst aspect of the increase in terrorism; London hotels won't hold your luggage anymore...
Well not really cheap hotels.
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