Review – The Weir, Donmar Warehouse

Another week, another theatrical first.* Well, a first for us. Though sadly what led to this first is becoming a norm.

Barely two weeks after leaving Children of the Sun with a fire alarm – triggered by a stage effect – ringing in our ears, still more ringing dominates the punters’ leaving-the-theatre discussions.

The Donmar didn’t have a pre-show announcement to switch off mobiles (not that some people take any notice). And, of course, one went off. Someone had to take action. That someone was Brian Cox (the actor, not the particle physicist with the 90s rock band hair).

Review – Trelawny of the Wells, Donmar

Bit late in the day with this one and frankly we weren’t going to bother writing it up as it closes on Saturday. But we’ll forget that we saw it otherwise. That’s not to say it’s forgettable. It’s just us.

Andrew was a Trelawny of the Wells virgin. Phil saw the starry Helena Bonham Carter version at the then Comedy Theatre 20-odd years ago; rather unfortunately the National also staged it around the same time. Oops. Phil remembered that it featured Michael Hordern, Jason Connery and Margaret Courtenay but had completely forgotten that cosmonaut-in-waiting Sarah Brightman also starred. How could he forget that? It seemed necessary to record our visit, if only for ourselves. You should feel no obligation to read any further.

Review – The Recruiting Officer, Donmar Warehouse

60 years on the throne. Andrew is laying odds that the Queen will still be around to get that telegram off to Phil should he hang on a few more years. But what does the Jubilee really mean to the Whingers?

Royal cupcakes? Cliff, Elton and Shirley on a traffic island in the Mall? Huge anticipation that Princess Beatrice might turn up in a new hat? The Whingers’ preferred Jubilee line is that it’s an excuse (should we need one) for a few tinctures.

But before we unravel our bunting there is a coronation to celebrate. King Michael (Grandage) has abdicated after his ten-year reign – topically eschewing male primogeniture – leaving theatrically-minded eyes agog to see how comfortably the jewel-laden Donmar crown balances on the head on his successor Queen Josie (O’Rourke).

Review – Anna Christie, Donmar Warehouse

Dear Andrew,

They say you can’t be in two places at the same time, but obviously the Whingers can. You swanned off to the Edinburgh Festival and unlike last year, you haven’t even had the courtesy to send even a postcard.

Your departing instructions were to “mop the surrounds”: take in the Pinter you suggested or perhaps the Caryl Churchill. Thanks a bundle.

Then you handed me the much sought-after tickets for Anna Christie - hot presumably because Jude Law is in it and not because you’ve been holding them in clammy palms. And it is a Eugene O’Neill to boot (not a master of the art of  brevity) while you’ll be seeing shows in Edinburgh that last what –  an hour or less?

But what would you have made of it? In a Being John Malkovich sort of way I’m going to try the unthinkable and get inside your head and imaginge what you’d have made of it.

Review – Moonlight, Donmar

Sorry. We’ve only just troubled you with some of the differences between the Whinger but here’s another one, as though you cared.

Some years back Andrew swore that he would never permit Harold Pinter to darken his theatregoing door again.

Phil, on the other hand, had been put off Pinter when he studied The Caretaker at school (Andrew expresses surprise at this, surely a more contemporary playwright for Phil would have been, say, Congreve?) but was understandably converted by seeing Dora Bryan in a NT production of The Birthday Party many, many moons ago.

Andrew should have known better. But even Phil really should have known to draw the line at the Donmar’s Moonlight, having yawned through the original, rather starry (Ian Holm, Anna Massey, Douglas Hodge, Michael Sheen, Claire Skinner, Edward de Souza) production at the Almeida in 1993.

But whether the result of a gluttony for punishment or optimism wrestling experience to the floor and sitting on its chest, the Whingers gamely trotted off to the Donmar to – it turns out – stick proverbial pins in their eyes yet again.

Review – The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, Donmar Warehouse

Dear Mister Grandage

Please find enclosed a “Sorry You’re Leaving Card”.

We know that before you go there’s at least another Pinter, a Schiller and a Shakespeare to get through but in case we should somehow not get round to these we just wanted to say ‘sorry’ for missing the point of some of your European dramas and non-comedic musicals over the years.

We know you meant well by them and fully accept that the inadequacy is ours. We were, after all, the only people in the West End or on Broadway to be underwhelmed by Red.

Does that sound a bit negative? It’s not meant to. We really, really enjoyed many of the things you put on (Streetcar for instance) and are eternally in your debt for introducing us to the world of Enid Bagnold.

And now you have thrown us a delicious parting crumb in the form of a frothy American musical comedy, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee (Music & Lyrics by William Finn. Book by Rachel Sheinkin), which we saw in New York and thought would work well here. And it does.

In which the Whingers invoice Mr Grandage

It has been a draining week for the Whingers thanks to the Donmar Warehouse’s new improved priority booking which is no longer conducted by mail but on the telephone.

Apparently there are advantages to the new system:

• KNOW YOUR SEATS RIGHT AWAY (The ones that the higher priority members such as “Wigs” didn’t want)
• FASTER TURNAROUND (“ensuring faster delivery of your tickets to your home”)

and our favourite:

• NO BOOKING FEE. “As a membership benefit, the normal ATG booking fee of £2.50 will be waived during this period. Should you wish, however, to make a donation to the Donmar to the value of the booking fee the sales representative will collect it at the time of your call.”

Since there wasn’t a booking fee under the previous system this hardly warrants the term “benefit” and anyway the cost of the 0844 telephone call to get the tickets was £6.

Review – Passion, Donmar Warehouse

The scene: a luxurious apartment in BA (that’s Buenos Aries). Argentina’s foremost musical theatre actress Elena Roger is luxuriating on a chaise longue, probably eating a steak, humming a tango and idly toying with her boleadoras (That’s the sum of our knowledge about the Argentine, sorry. You’ll have to add your own colour to the picture). A telephone rings.

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 Late Middle Classes, Donmar Warehouse

In the unlikely event that they ever get around to writing their play the Whingers will be sure to follow the classic advice to “write about what you know”. This will engender a refreshingly brief night at the theatre.

In The Late Middle Classes Simon Gray has written about what he knows. The late Mr Gray knew more than we ever will and hence has much more to say. And so it was heavy hearts all round when the Whingers found a slip in their Donmar programmes imparting the news that “The performance lasts approximately 2 hours and 45 minutes including an interval” in contradiction of the programme which admits to a mere “2 hours”. How did they get it so wrong?

Review – Polar Bears, Donmar Warehouse

Who knew that at one stage of its decomposition a corpse smells like parmesan cheese?

It’s enough to put the Whingers off their penne arrabiata.

But the Donmar‘s latest production, Polar Bears, the first stage play by acclaimed The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time author Mark Haddon, rather put them off something else altogether: going to the theatre.

Review – Serenading Louie, Donmar Warehouse

The Whingers’ heads have been turned more than a Linda Blair demonic possession in recent weeks. But having spent far more time hob-nobbing than actually watching plays, it was down to earth with a resounding thump last night after all their recent star-schtumphing.

The novelty of not being pestered by celebrities (well, almost*) almost made the prospect of sitting with ordinary members of the public at the  Donmar Warehouse seem attractive. And Lanford Wilson‘s Serenading Louie, about which the Whingers knew next to nothing, seemed an ideal way to re-enter their normal, everyday, humdrum lives.

The Critics’ Circle Theatre Awards 2009

Well, the fire door had been carelessly left open so like model citizens we went in and pulled it firmly shut behind us and then it turned out we were in the Price of Wales Theatre and there was free drink and Rachel Weisz and Jude Law were and so we thought, what the hell, and stayed for The Critics’ Circle Theatre Awards 2009.

Of course, it’s pretty much the definition of “yesterday’s news”* (well, you try filing a blog post when they’ve been topping up your wine glass not stop for for three hours and to be fair Andrew was tweeting it live) and so you know that Weisz and Law were among the winners. We sort of guessed that when we saw them there.

Review – Red, Donmar Theatre

“Can you tell what it is yet?”

That iconic phrase always flashes through Phil’s mind when he stares at a painting by Mark Rothko. But never more so than last night as the Whingers watched Rothko and his studio assistant Ken attack a blank canvas with a pot of red paint. It’s a bit of a coup de théâtre, brilliantly choreographed as you would expect from director Michael Grandage – but the Whingers couldn’t help thinking of Rolf Harris.

Review – A Streetcar Named Desire, Donmar Warehouse

The happiness of the Whingers depends on a lot of things when they visit a theatre: good sightlines, brevity, amusement and a competitively priced bar. But unlike Blanche Dubois they do not seek or expect kindness from strangers (or friends for that matter). Indeed, it is a word that rarely features in their limited vocabularies.

Brevity may also have been in somewhat short supply at the Donmar Warehouse on Monday when we dropped in to see Rob Ashford‘s production of Tennessee Williams‘s Pulitzer Prize winning classic A Streetcar Named Desire: it lumbers in at at a massive three hours. But for once the Whingers had struck lucky in the advance booking ticket lottery that the Donmar organises for its “friends” and for the first time in yonks we weren’t sitting to the side of the thrust stage but at the front, where the critics get to sit (in fact Mark Lawson or his Doppelgänger was in front of us). And boy what a difference it made!