Andrew is on sabbatical but Phil is soldiering on to help you decide between the Merlot and the Marlowe and generally putting London's West End theatre to rights
This was the week that probably had you wondering what Olivier Awards host Catherine Tate had done to wrong her stylist that they’d wrought such a terrible revenge. And why the shouty and seemingly underprepared host banged on about Time’s Up and then introduced Ronan Keating in a manner that had it been a man introducing a woman would have seen him booed off the stage. How very dare she. Read the rest of this entry »
It was too big a commitment to book for all 3 of Rona Munro‘s James Plays despite Phil having a bit of Scottish blood in him and James as a middle name. So he opted for the third one, The True Mirror solely for the reason that it featured The Killing‘s sweater girl Sofie Gråbøl. He’s shallow like that.
Then he saw the reviews, with some critics finding this the least successful of the trilogy. Oh dear. Apparently a very different tone to the other bloodier ones, but it was a tone that suited Phil from the moment he saw the pre-performance Highland(ish) jigging (arranged by Alasdair MacRae) to Pharrell Williams’ hugely infectious “Happy”. Even though the nifty dancing was performed against a live set of bagpipes (an instrument he usually finds deeply irritating) and a hammered dulcimer (a hammered dulcimer!!!) he knew he’d have the tune stuck in his head for the next few days. Read the rest of this entry »
The extreme warnings* aboout Ghost Stories at the Lyric Hammersmith were such that Phil decided to go it alone. Aware that Andrew is of a very nervous disposition, the prospect of him jumping into Phil’s lap were enough to cause him moments of “extreme shock and tension”.
The truth is that the Whingers had tickets for Tuesday’s performance but Phil had to pull out due to a much more important engagement than theatre, but he slipped into the Saturday matinée leaving others to soothe Andrew’s nerves.
It would take quite a lot to scare the Phil in a theatre. The prospect of seeing the first act of Gone With the Wind The Musical again might, or being locked in the Cottesloe auditorium overnight, or having to endure the second act of Really Old, Like Forty Five. Or if Richard Jones was to be let loose on a classic musical again, that might send shudders down Phil’s spine. Read the rest of this entry »
A West End Whinger 