Review – Desperately Seeking The Exit, Leicester Square Theatre

We have observed before how carefully one must choose the title of one’s show lest critics, sub-editors or even pesky bloggers get their hands on it and turn it on its head and here is Peter Michael Marino doing it to himself, sort of, with a bit of help from Charlie Spencer.

Having eventually recovered from a year long bout of depression and a severe case of haemorrhoids the writer of the 2007 West End flop musical Desperately Seeking Susan has nicked a quote from Charles Spencer’s review and used it for his one man piece Desperately Seeking the Exit (director John Clancy) which explains what went wrong.

The Whingers never saw DSS and we’re not even sure why. We’re both very partial to The Blondie, whose songs were purloined to musicalise the plot from the 1985 film (memorable because (a) it featured Madonna and (b) she wasn’t terrible in it).

How bad could the musical version have been? As bad as Paradise Found? Viva Forever! (which has just announced it is not quite forever)? Or the so-bad-it-was-(almost)-good Too Close to the Sun? Surely not.

Review – Merrily We Roll Along, Menier Chocolate Factory

Rating

Confused?

Not if you’re familiar with Merrily We Roll Along which starts in 1976 and moves back through the years to 1957 and inspired Phil to write the review in reverse.

But unlike Stephen Sondheim, his book writer George Furth or Pinter or George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart who wrote the original play on which it’s based he’s not sharp enough for that. So he’ll leave it there.

Review – Victor/Victoria, Southwark Playhouse

A long while before she generously offered her Gift of Music, Julie Andrews was the subject of a Guardian interview at the NFT (now BFI).

Phil was in the audience and after furiously waving his arm in a “Me sir! Me sir!” kind of way, was given the chance to ask his killer question:

“Do you ever watch your old films and if you do which one do you watch most often?”

A hushed audience (including a complete stranger called Andrew – this was pre-Whinger days) leaned forward as one in anticipation of the answer (that’s how Phil remembers it, anyway).

Julie paused thoughtfully before replying “I don’t watch my films, but if I did it would be Victor/Victoria”

Review – Taboo, Brixton Club House

Can it really be ten years since “The Boy George Musical” flounced onto the London stage?

Can it really be over 30 years since the New Romantic movement kicked off?

Why does time contract as you get older? Except when you sit through over-protracted shows like Taboo, obviously.

Review – It’s All True, White Bear Theatre

Yes, it’s been a while.

We’ve been busy. Wallowing in everthing from the perky and quirky opening ceremony to the bit iffy closing ceremony and an awful lot of greedy medalling inbetween.

So after all that real drama (not to mention a pesky burglary) there was little rush to return to theatre. But then Andrew drew Phil’s attention to Jason Sherman‘s It’s All True which is also real drama in as much as it is  based on real events.

Strangely this was Phil’s first visit to the White Bear Theatre in the badlands of Kennington so he was understandably a little taken aback to find himself in a pub surrounded not by shiftless middle class arty types but by people in t-shirts watching football on multiple telly screens.

The White Bear is a strange place. Certainly the Whingers can not think of any other pub in London where the wine comes in individual mini-bottles of the kind you get on aeroplanes. We can only imagine that demand for vino is so low that they got fed up of having to throw away the rest of the full sized bottles on the rare occasion that some outsider asked for a glass.

Anyhoo, it was in this unusal setting that the Whingers discovered they shared a few things in common with Orson Welles and not just a love of sweet sherry.

Review – Outward Bound, Finborough Theatre

Can’t say much about Outward Bound really without giving things away. Marvel at the uncharacteristically tight Whinger lips here although it is only a slight variation on their signature pursed configuration.

Can say that one shouldn’t be misled by the title: it is not about aiming to foster personal growth and social skills using challenging expeditions in the outdoors. Can say it doesn’t involve canoeing, abseiling or hillwalking. Can say it’s not set in Wales and that it is a great relief to say there is not a backpack or damp chunky knit sock in sight. And before the lawyers write in, yes, ® Outward Bound is a registered trade mark of The Outward Bound Trust 

Review, Cul-De-Sac, Pleasance Courtyard, Edinburgh Fringe

Nothing to do with Roman Polanski’s film of the same name, but plucked by the Whingers from the telephone directory-sized Fringe brochure just because we felt it sounded “very us”.

Billed as “this brilliant spin on Stepford Wives is an irresistibly twisted tale of ordinary men, women, and their dogs”, happily Matthew Osborn’s Cul-De-Sac proved to be thus.

The less you know about the goings on in this “dark, tweeting suburban underworld” the more you’ll enjoy it. Without giving too much away it involves trimmed hedges, garden gnomes, barbecues, an ear infection, a very sinister neighbour and a dead dog (cue “Ahhhhs” from some of the audience). Imagine what might have happened if Terry and June had grown up in Psychoville.

The cast, Alan Francis, Toby Longworth and Mike Hayley are all excellent. Mr Hayley, who is taking time out from the terrific Journey’s End at The Duke of York’s Theatre to appear gives a brilliantly convincing, understated performance.

But most importantly there’s plenty of laughs and provided probably the funniest (and surreal) line we’ve heard on the Fringe so far. Out of context it wouldn’t make much sense and we would hate to spoil it anyway.

This is apparently the first play to emerge from the Comedians Theatre Company new writing project Itch: A Scratch Event. We will be watching their progress keenly.

We predict this may turn up at the Soho Theatre. Look out for it.

Right up the Whingers’ own peculiarly twisted cul-de-sacs.

Rating

Review – Liberace: Live From Heaven, Assembly George Square, Edinburgh Fringe

You can’t say the Whingers aren’t taking risks on the Fringe.

Bobby Crush in Liberace: Live From Heaven (the place people supposedly go after death, not the 80s nightclub you understand), now you really wouldn’t have expected us to take a punt on that now would you?

Well the clues in the title. Liberace is poised at the gates of heaven and has to convince St Peter (voiced by Stephen Fry) and God (voiced by Victoria Wood) why he should be admitted through the Pearly Gates or take the elevator to hell. And then we the audience ultimately vote to seal his fate.

But the big mystery for the Whingers was why a party of about 10 people walked out 15 minutes into the show. Didn’t they know what they were coming to? L:LFH does exactly what it says on the tin.

We get a potted biography as he takes us through his life, arguing his case and of course plenty of delightful piano playing from Crush’s Liberace and that’s when the show is at its best. Crush has the twinkling mannerisms down to a “T” and they’re hilarious to watch even if he did remind Phil of a brunette Pat Butcher (now Pat Evans previously Harris, Beale and Wicks) at times.

But the highlight comes towards the end when he plays a medley of six songs which Crush invites his audience to shout out.

This should have been the Whingers’ moment, but our minds went even blanker than usual. All Phil could think of was “Jesus Christ Superstar” without realising how appropriate that would have been.

The show is good fun but at 75 minutes it is rather overextended on what is, after all, something of a chestnut of a device.

For the record we voted Liberace into heaven.

Rating

Review – Oedipus, Pleasance Courtyard Theatre, Edinburgh Fringe

“Sh*t” moaned the woman heading the queue at the Pleasance Courtyard.

“He’s the reason we booked,” the He being Steven Berkoff, who would not be offering his Creon at Saturday afternoon’s performance.

But she needn’t have worried. Mr Matthew Cullum covered the indisposition splendidly and since this is Oedipus by Steven Berkoff (after Sophocles) the auteur’s presence could be felt throughout it like the letters running through a stick of (Sisyphean?) rock.

We need not concern you overly with the plot. Oedipus married his mother Jocasta (“Where he exits he enters”) which of course leads to..well that would need a spoiler alert.

Simon Merrells who so impressed the Whingers in Berkoff’s On the Waterfront does so again in the title role. Anita Dobson as his mother/wife is strangely mesmerising as she wafts through the proceedings done up like a sixties cocktail party hostess wiggling her fingers constantly as though she’s having trouble getting her nails to dry.

It’s all stunningly staged and lit (Mike Robertson) with the excellent Greek chorus forming typically Berkoffian Last Supper style tableaux against a Dali-esque background (Design by Michael Vale). If it goes on just a little longer than necessary there’s a bit of traditional Greek dancing to help you through. Less Greek chorus, more chorus boys.

Note to the producers: Get Miss Dobson some quick-drying nail varnish so she can stop waving her hands about for the hour and 40 minutes.

Rating

Review – Black Slap, Gilded Balloon Teviot, Edinburgh Fringe

No, Black Slap isn’t about specialist chat rooms. 

This is 1964, Harold Wilson has just won the election and we find ourselvs in a dressing room at the Victoria Palace Theatre where the cast are putting on makeup for a performance of The Black and White Minstrel Show.

Looking back, it’s hard to believe it ever existed? Andrew actually possesses proof: a Black & White Minstrels TV Show Annual which he occasionally browses through in wonder and disbelief. Phil remembers disliking it, not because it was racist (he grew up in Wiltshire where race had yet to be invented), but because he was bored by the musical numbers. How times have changed.

But there’s nothing at all dull about Paul Haley’s backstage tale (director, Robert McWhir) of dressing room bitching and arguments over who will be in the line up for that year’s Royal Variety Performance which included The Beatles and Marlene Dietrich in its line up. Ah those were the days.

This could almost have been written with the Whingers in mind: a neatly-crafted theatre story with social history (didn’t underpants fit badly in those days?), a bit of dancing, a terrific cast, on stage urination into a sink – plus maracas! It’s frequently laugh-out-loud stuff and one woman in the audience even called out “Boom, Boom!” after one of the gags. Bizarre.

The racism card isn’t overplayed but handled neatly by having a black dresser, Pyrex (Marc Small, excellent), who is working to pay for his studies (and of course he’s the smartest of the lot). Peter Whitfield makes a marvellously curmudgeonly old minstrel and there’s even the real life drag queen Dave Lynne as a flouncingly camp minstrel with a penchant for well, what else, cross dressing.

Right up the Whinger’s alley. Splendid and uplifting.

Rating

Review – Paul Daniels: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow, Assembly George Square, Edinburgh Fringe

Be careful what you wish for.

Phil was beginning to regret his fantasy of revisiting Pete Firman’s magic show in the slight chance that he might see Andrew with his head in a guillotine.

Bad karma indeed. Less than 24 hours later and there was Phil, on his knees in front of Paul Daniels with his head locked in a guillotine for that very same trick. And all this with not only Andrew, but Mark Shenton in the audience too. You really couldn’t make it up.

Phil was on stage for what seemed like half the show having already had his £20 ripped in two by Mr Daniels.

Andrew, feeling distinctly snubbed and green with envy at Phil’s undeserved temporary stardom, refused to buy Phil the post-show drink he deseprately needed to calm down leading to a frantic Sellotaping session by Phil.

This was Paul Daniels: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow in which the veteran magician proves why he’s lasted so long in the business. He’s got the tricks and the patter, although there is perhaps a  little too much chat before he actually gets down to business of magic and a trick involving in a magic box with a couple of ropes seemed somewhat over-elaborate.

But you really do have to see these seasoned old pros live. There is also a live rabbit and – of course – the lovely Debbie McGee.

Of course you are unlikely to be treated to a Whinger under the blade but you can’t have it all can you?

And yes, Phil still has no idea how the trick was done.

Highly recommended.

Rating

Would almost certainly have been five had Phil’s head come off.

Review – The Seagull Effect, Zoo Roxy, Edinburgh Fringe

Well, since Andrew wasn’t sending any cards from the Edinburgh Festival, there was only one thing for Phil to do: join him.

Phil’s first proper visit. Andrew already had a slew of shows under his belt by the time he arrived. But it’s all very well seeing loads of shows back to back but when is there time to write about them? If the show’s any good the Whingers want to celebrate in the bar afterwards.

And Phil still hasn’t quite got his head round Scotland’s licensing laws. Entering a supermarket at 9am and asking if it was possible to buy alcohol he received a pitying look from the woman on the till and a negative response. “What time can you buy it?” Phil persisted. Compounding his indignity later by returning to the same store to purchase a couple of bottles only to be served by the very same woman on the till. Pitiful.

Everything’s about timing on the fringe and the Whingers had to leave an overrunning and rather painful show to arrive in time for Idle Motion‘s The Seagull Effect and it was a decision well made.

A multimedia piece with dance, story telling, physical theatre and personal recollections of Britain’s 1987 storms doesn’t really sound very Whingerish. But the fringe is about recommendations and someone, though we have no recollection who, said this was a must and so it proved.

TSE consists of two intertwining stories – one about a couple rekindling a relationship on the night of the storm another about a woman trying to get to a job interview in Brighton – which are neatly segued together in a pleasingly inventive and imaginative fashion.

Images of world events, storms and seagulls are projected onto all sorts of different objects, white umbrellas, clothes, newspapers, plastic sheeting and the show pelts along on the back of these brilliantly achieved images. With quick get-outs on shows being essential on the Edinburgh Fringe Phil was sure that no rain would be forthcoming but he was wrong: we did, with one of show’s many clever and witty stunts

There was also plenty of humour especially from the likeable chirpy head girl type narrator Grace Chapman and the seemingly very young company worked with the discipline of a far more established troupe.

And if it sometimes makes a bit of a meal of its rather tenuous philosophical point, the shortcomings are far outweighed by its style and its sincerity.

The whole thing turned out to be very Whingers indeed. Quite, quite remarkable. Who would have thought?

Caveat emptor: these are, of course, merely trivial opinions.

Rating

 

Review – Dames at Sea, Union Theatre

Andrew says sometimes there’s just no point talking to Phil.

Phil says sometimes there’s just no point talking to Andrew.

Review – Journey’s End, Duke of York’s Theatre

“Do you think you would have turned to drink?” Andrew enquired of Phil at the interval of Journey’s End. Which led to the Whingers musing on the pros and cons of life in the World War I trenches.

It did seem grim: the food, the cold, the damp, the rats, the exhaustion, the boredom, the constant fear of bombardment or action and never returning to blighty. But Phil”s imagination was conjuring up terrible images far more chilling than anything portrayed on the stage: the bathroom arrangements.

Review – Fings Ain’t Wot They Used T’Be, Union Theatre

It is no secret that Betty and Bitter* are deeply entrenched in their funny little ways and forthright about their resistance to innovation.
But changes can be subtle, creeping up with a stealth that is sometimes only gradually discernible.

Phil took a while to notice, but now happily admits, that he’s getting more like his mother with each passing year. Even Andrew, who has never met her, observes this maternal Invasion of the Body Snatchers with an unhealthily forensic interest.

Accepting changes can be wearisome. Phil has been forced to accommodate so many over his manifold years: the farthing going out of circulation, William Hartnell stepping down as Doctor Who, the Look at Life features disappearing from the pictures, Valerie Singleton leaving Blue Peter, the end of the Cadbury’s Aztec bar, Fab lollies dropping the jelly filling, the decline of loose-leaf tea and putting up with a generation who never learnt to warm the pot.

So it was almost impossible for the Whingers not to join in with Lionel Bart’s catchy titular ditty Fings Ain’t Wot They Used T’Be as it could have been written with them in mind.