Review – Photograph 51 with Nicole Kidman, Noel Coward Theatre

The first and last time Nicole Kidman appeared on a West End stage one critic got himself into a right old tizzy, probably tenting in his stalls seat before breathlessly describing her as “Pure theatrical Viagra“.

Phil saw that play, The Blue Room, in preview and was met by a US TV crew from Entertainment Tonight as he exited the Donmar wanting to know how she’d acquitted herself. Of course, what they really wanted to know was intimate details of her nude scene, Phil was so discreet in his utterances they no doubt left the footage on the cutting room floor.

17 years on, would Kidman’s appearance in Photograph 51 prove to be theatrical Viagra or theatrical bromide?

Review – Chimerica, AlmeidaTheatre

Phil once stood in Tiananmen Square, not facing a tank obvs, but facing the body of Chairman Mao (or what’s said to be his body) in the Mao Mausoleum. He also played frisbee there (in the square that is, not the mausoleum, although it was certainly vast enough in to have flicked a bit of plastic around in front of the waxy-looking ‘body’).

7 years later the tanks that rolled in were stopped by an unknown man standing in front of them. He was captured on film in what was to become one of the most iconic images of the last century.

The gushing raves for Lucy Kirkwood‘s Chimerica (a co-production with Headlong) have ensured a sell-out at the Almeida (where it’s now in its last week), hardly surprising canny Sonia Friedman snapped it up for the West End where it’ll be at the Harold Pinter Theatre from August 6th.

Could this be the same Kirkwood who delivered the Whinger-unapproved Tinderbox 5 years ago when apparently she was already a year into writing this play?

Review – All My Sons, Apollo Theatre

Don’t see this as a review, think of it more as test to see just how hard the Whingers are.

Let us explain. At the opening night of All My Sons Charles Spencer found it “profoundly moving” and reported that “I even spotted a hardened fellow critic weeping”.

We know that he or she was not the only critic blubbing away that opening night – we bumped into another one emerging from the theatre daintily dabbing at his ducts with a Kleenex.

Perhaps Arthur Miller‘s play would work its magic and touch even the Whingers’ shrivelled hearts?

Well, we can’t exactly say we dissolved into tears when we found out they had sold out of programmes at the Apollo Theatre on Tuesday evening, but we were a little peeved.