Review – The Prince of Homburg, Donmar Warehouse

Like The Railway Children, which is currently flaunting its loco at Waterloo station, Heinrich von Kleist‘s The Prince of Homburg comes with its own Unique Selling Point having had conferred upon it the somewhat loco accolade: “Hitler’s favourite play”.

Yes, the Whingers were obviously never quite going to be able to overlook such an epithet and as soon as the Donmar announcement was made the Whingers were straight on the phone for tickets.

After all, it’s only a few months since they saw Stalin’s favourite play and their theatre-going activities have been given a new impetus by the desire to tick off the favourite plays of all of the 20th Century’s top dictators (and their wives). The Whingers are given to understand that Elena Ceauşescu* adored The Prisoner of Second Avenue (and was the only person on the planet to find it the slightest bit amusing) so it was worth sitting through that after all. Now we are willing someone – anyone -  to revive Idi Amin’s favourite musical, No, No Nanette.

Review – The Duchess of Malfi, Punchdrunk/ENO

“It’s just more of the same, really,” lamented Andrew, finally able to relax a bit and gather his thoughts now that the Whingers and party had located the hidden bar.

“It’s less of the same,” retorted Kat, pithily, which is exactly what the Whingers would have said had they thought of it.

Indeed. The Duchess of Malfi feels like Punchdrunk spread somewhat thin, despite the addition of an orchestra. The venue feels larger (three stories of an unoccupied office in Gallions Reach, Beckton) but there seem to be  fewer actors and less going on.

Mind you, this time they’ve really upped their game when it comes to the futility involved in being an audience member.

Review – The Beauty Queen of Leenane, Young Vic

Picture it. Two very troubled people, interdependent and inseparable due to circumstance; one is very old, extremely crotchety and makes the other one’s life hell.

But how much is the careworn younger one culpable for the older person’s distress? What is behind this ghastly symbiotic relationship of psychological cruelty. Why can’t they live together? Why daren’t they exist apart.

Goodness! Who’d have thought there’d be so many parallels between the characters in Martin McDonagh‘s* exceedingly black comedy The Beauty Queen of Leenane (newly revived at the Young Vic) and the Whingers’ own peculiar arrangement. The only immediate difference being that the Whingers, thankfully, were never umbilically connected.

Oh, and that Phil doesn’t eat Complan – but that can only be a matter of time.

Review – The Railway Children, Waterloo Station

Pah! Punchdrunk? Who they? For some truly exciting immersive, site-specific theatre you don’t need to pack a Thermos, don sensible shoes and set out on a Pilgrimage to the outer reaches of Beckton. You can just drop in to the old Eurostar terminal at Waterloo Station (zone 1).

This acclaimed production of E Nesbit’s The Railway Children in association with The National Railway Museum and York Theatre Royal has pulled up at the old Eurostar Terminus complete with its USP of “a real steam train”. And how clever that in the true spirit of Britain’s railway system only 2 out of the 4 washbasins in the gents should be working.

Review – Pygmalion, Chichester Festival Theatre

In the words of Fred Ebb, “The world goes round and round and round and round and round and round and round and round”.

As Eagle-eyed readers will know, over the last four years the Whingers have seen every play and musical ever written and are having to begin all over again. We digested our second Assassins only the other day.

And yesterday, what should appear on the great theatrical merry-go-round,with all the dignity it is possible to muster on a giant chicken rising and falling to the self-parodying tones of a steam organ, but George Bernard Shaw‘s Pygmalion.

Review – Aspects of Love, Menier Chocolate Factory

Lordy!

This was the first WEW outing to an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical since that other thing earlier this year, the occasion on which the Whingers finally – after four years of writing – came up with a reasonably funny gag. Monkeys and typewriters and all that.

No wonder another 11 people signed up to come along, all hoping to be around when the Whingers came up with their second apposite aphorism. Needless to say they were disappointed.

Review – La Bête, Comedy Theatre

“The theatrical event of the year” is a phrase that’s rather bandied about willy-nilly these days.

Benedict Nightingale’s quote still lurks mockingly on the publicity for Paint Never Dries. Punters might be forgiven for thinking that it signalled a volte-face in Nightingale’s opinion after his less than flattering 2 star review. It didn’t. The quote actually originates from something he wrote long before he saw it.

But the Whingers can truthfully say that for them La Bête really does fall into the category of one of their most eagerly anticipated theatrical excursions of the year, despite it being written in verse.

Yes verse! You would think that in a post-Fram, post-Misanthrope world, people would have stopped putting on verse plays and moreover that the Whingers would have stopped going to them.

Have their heads been turned by dipping their poetic toes into the Clerihewcular cosmos?

Review – Not By Bread Alone, Arts Depot

Andrew maintains Phil makes little sense anyway so there’s not much in the way of sense to be deprived of.

But the chance to see eleven deaf-blind actors telling eleven stories and baking bread in a performance that has been two years in the making seemed intriguing.

And since Andrew was at home, er, baking bread (Yes, really! In a breakmaker! How suburban!) and unwilling to face the long, cold trail to The Arts Depot, Phil was despatched solo.

Oh, and Phil’s long-gestating ”Food-On-Stage” thesis had been gathering dust on the same shelf as his Petite Typewriter for too long of late. How could he resist?

Review – The Prisoner of Second Avenue, Vaudeville Theatre

Isn’t it wonderful to see actors up there on the stage, relaxed and enjoying themselves?

Even if it is only for 60 seconds during the curtain call.

The Whingers have a stuff-and-nonsense approach to previews but it’s fair to say that this attempt to whip up an old Neil Simon confection may well be only  half-baked. By the time it opens on 13th July, perhaps director Terry Johnson will have the thing bubbling happily away but last night it was sizzling like a plate of cold tapioca.

Review – Assassins, Union Theatre

One of the troubles with longevity is a tendency towards repeating oneself. Ask Phil. And the same applies in blogging.

After four years the Whingers are now at that stage where shows are coming round again. What to do? Must we really find new gags every time someone revives something we’ve already seen? That’s going to be a challenge as we only have about six gags which are cunningly recycled.

Anyway, we did all the assassination gags when it was done at the Landor two and a half years ago.

And now (to celebrate the 80th birthday of yadda yadda yadda) Stephen Sondheim’s Assassins is revived at the Union Theatre under the direction of Michael Strassen who scored such a critical hit with his production of Sondheim’s Company at the Union a year ago.

Could lightning possibly strike twice?

Clerihew fever

No theatre today. Too hot.  No footballs.

Time to play theatrical clerihews instead.

Review – Knickerbocker Glories, Union Theatre

In which the Whingers engage with political theatre! Well, Andrew does. Phil finds today’s politics rather confusing and hard to keep up with. Indeed, last week he had to sit down and take a moment to compose himself when Andrew inadvertently let slip that the Corn Laws had been repealed.

Andrew, on the other hand, has a very keen interest in the issues of the day and is always up for a spirited debate on the decriminalisation of unnatural practices and whether or not women should have the vote, his view on the latter being “On balance, yes, probably.”

Miniaturists 24, Arcola Theatre

There are few things theatrical which will draw the Whingers into the theatre on a weekend, still fewer on a summer’s day as sunny as Sunday’s was, and practically none at all if it also means getting on a bus to Dalston.

It was also Phil’s birthday and despite Andrew’s  bullying tactics to get him to attend made Phil even more determined to celebrate it in a manner of his own choosing. But then again, he has had far too many birthdays already, the novelty long since wore off and he agreed to sit in the gloom until the Arcola‘s metaphorical final curtain.

Review – Calamity Jane, Upstairs at the Gatehouse

Apparently audiences are staying away from theatres almost en masse at the moment, preferring instead to sit in front of big screens, biting their manly nails in collective frustration and leaking testosterone all over the shop.

So the Whingers decided it was high time they put their feminine sides on the back burner and explore their combined powers of machismo with a trip to Upstairs at the Gatehouse to see that apperceptive dissection of gender roles and sexual identity: Calamity Jane.

Review – Welcome to Thebes, National Theatre

The Whingers were inspired to smuggle their recently purchased vuvuzela trumpets about their persons as they entered the Olivier auditorium on Tuesday evening.

Hard to believe, isn’t it, but they had actually watched the footie on Saturday night, missing England’s only goal as ITV HD’s useless coverage switched to an ad break just at the key moment, which of course meant the whole farrago was even duller than they could have possibly imagined.

But if Welcome to Thebes proved as dreary at least the Whingers would be able to whip out their horns and liven things up.