Review – Dido Queen of Carthage, National Theatre

Strange really. In spite of the pledge that appears at the top of every page of this website the Whingers have never actually had the opportunity to tell you whether it’s worth missing the Merlot for the Marlowe.

Since they were born three years ago out of the foam created by the severed genitals of Uranus in the sea near Cyprus* the Whingers have consumed bathtubs of Merlot but their paths have never crossed that of Mister Christopher Marlowe.

All that was put to rights on Tuesday evening at the press night of  Dido Queen of Carthage at the National.

Review: Twelfth Night, Donmar West End

Ok, sit down. Take a deep breath, take a Valium and take the day off. The Whingers are about to start chucking a few superlatives around.

You may well think you’ve come to the wrong place (indeed you almost certainly have) as it’s well documented that the Whingers don’t really do Shakespeare, especially the comedies as they’re usually even less comic than My Family.

But director Michael Grandage (named Best Director at the Evening Standard Theatre Awards for Othello / The Chalk Garden / Ivanov) can do little wrong at the moment in the Whingers’ eyes.

And last night he caused the Whingers actually to laugh. Not once, but over and over again. Out loud. At a Shakespeare play.