Nicole schreibt...

If it's July and I'm not home you can usually find me across the channel on my favourite island. What on earth makes me go there despite the legendary English weather I don't know. More than once I longingly remembered the blue skies of Andalucia and the swimming pools, while the only water in Britain was coming from above as usual. This year's summer trip to the UK got off a very shaky start thanks to a sudden wildcat strike by BA personnel on Heathrow Airport (that's what you get for becoming an Executive Club member?!). My plane was the first that actually reached Cologne again after the strike, while previous flights had been cancelled, so I reckon I should consider myself lucky that my flight was only two hours late. My planned lunch break in Heathrow had melted to zero as I rushed through the airport to the bus station and just about caught the National Express coach to Cardiff. Yes, my resolution to not just hang around London all the time and cram in as many musicals as possible led me to the rolling hills of Wales first, courtesy of an invition by my Welsh friend Rob to show me around.I felt like being back in the good old days of school exchange programmes when I was taken for a drive around the Brecon Beacons national park with its spectacular scenery (and many many sheep). Brecon itself was a sleepy little town dominated by the tourist industry and a lovely church that somewhat glamourously called itself cathedral. The skies had cleared up for a while to allow a walk around town and I had my first go at driving a British car in British left-hand traffic by way of practising for Australia. Mind you, the driving on the left side isn't such a problem actually since you can just attach yourself to the car in front of you - it's remembering that your car extends a great bit towards the left since the driver's seat is on the right. I often narrowly escaped crashing into parked cars on the left side of the street! (calling Brussels... DO something about this bizarre habit of driving on the wrong side!). Saving himself from a heart attack Rob took the wheel again and brought me to Swansea, the second-biggest town in Wales. Once dubbed "ugly lovely town" by resident poet Dylan Thomas, the blacker-than-black comedy "Twin Town" which was set there, renamed it "pretty shitty city". Not really, though, I found Swansea a perfectly nice town with a nice pedestrian area and a long beach stretching out for a couple of miles to the west. Now you may wonder why sightseeing in Swansea included the front of the train station, but if you have seen "Twin Town" you'll know why :) The second day in Wales brought me to Caerphilly Castle first, but thanks to more pouring rain I only took a look (and a photo) of the outside of this huge old castle. By noon the skies had cleared up enough to attempt visiting the Welsh Folk Museum, Europe's biggest open air museum where old houses from bygone days have been re-created to show what life in Wales was like in former centuries. The exhibits included a Celtic village and an exhibition on clothes and everyday tools. The rest of the day was spent in Cardiff, which had little to offer for sightseers apart from the huge castle and the even huger Millennium Stadium that looked rather out of place in the middle of the town. I don't want to imagine the traffic situation after a football game or concert in Cardiff! On Wednesday I returned to civilization and took the train from Cardiff to Bath, one of England's most beautiful towns. The Romans were always around when hot water bubbled out of the ground somewhere and so after arriving in soggy damp Britain more than 2000 years ago they immediately rushed to set up camp in Aquae Sulis, later imaginatively called "Bath". The Christians came later to build a big cathedral in town and Bath became the favourite hotspot for the trendy crowds in mid 18th century, who flocked to the town for the hot baths. It was immortalized by Jane Austen in her novels "Northanger Abbey" and "Persuasion" and in Richard B. Sheridan's comedy "The Rivals" (among many other lesser known works). Most of Bath still looks like it did in Jane Austen's time and you can visit the Assembly Rooms, the Royal Crescent or the Pump Rooms just like her heroines did. There's also a "Jane Austen Centre", though not in the house where she actually lived. It displays a few items of her own but mainly gives a thorough picture of life in Georgian Bath in the Regency period. The hotel recommended to me by Regency-aficionados was in Great Pulteney Street, the Champs Elysees of its time, but otherwise had little to recommend itself. No four poster beds and certainly no Mr Darcys anywhere in sight. Still, Bath's reputation for being one of the prettiest towns in England is certainly justified and everyone who's enjoyed the recent wave of Jane Austen adaptions on screen or the novels themselves, should go there and take a look. On Thursday I was back in the hustle and bustle of the crowded capital, which made me realize why people were so keen on exchanging London for Bath in those days. But at least I had a really lucky break  - after buying tickets for "Tell me on a Sunday" at TKTS in Leicester Square I decided to check out whether the Prince Charles Cinema (showing slightly older movies for little money) might still be showing Dougray Scott's latest offering "To kill a king", which had already vanished from the mainstream cinemas, failing to make any impression with the critics or the audience. When I came to the cinema, I found that "To kill a king" was just about to start and this was the only screening of the movie that week. So naturally I jumped at the chance and went inside - and found myself pleasantly surprised for the movie was very well-written and gripping to the last minute. It's not a big epic about the English civil war full of battles and pathos but a rather intimate tale about the people who dominated that troubled period in England - Oliver Cromwell, who became Lord Protector of the first and only English Republic, Thomas Fairfax, general to Cromwell's army who withdrew from his friend in disgust when success got to Cromwell's head, Lady Anne Fairfax, his resolute wife and the hapless King Charles II. who lost his head. The movie paid special attention to the Fairfaxes, who have been overlooked by history and especially Thomas Fairfax' inner conflict, torn between his friend Cromwell who needs him to build the Republic and his wife who keeps telling him to stop playing and come home. Excellent performances by the leads Tim Roth (Cromwell), Dougray Scott (Fairfax), Olivia Williams (Lady Fairfax) and Rupert Everett (King Charles) really make this worth seeing and it's a shame that it was drowned in the huge hype of Hollywood studios flooding cinemas with their summer blockbuster rubbish ranging from Hulk to Charlie's Angels. After the movie I went to meet a friend in Waterstone's lovely cafe in Piccadilly Circus and then went to the Gielgud Theatre to see "Tell me on a Sunday" with my friend Erika. I hadn't been prepared to pay the full price of £37.50 for this one woman show (lasting only 80 minutes), but for half price it was a great evening out. I still regret that ALW cut one of my all-time favourite songs from this new version ("The last man in my life", if you must know) and I still think that the new songs don't really fit into the score, but overall the music was still exceptional and the leading lady simply terrific. Many people had had misgivings about Denise van Outen, a former TV presenter, being given this demanding part and thought that Webber only wanted to cash in on her celebrity status. But she held the audience's attention from beginning to end and really made you feel for her. Since I didn't know her from TV, I could only judge from what I saw on stage now and at first she looked like just another skinny blonde bitch to me, but this soon changed to true sympathy until in the end you only wanted to hug her and tell her that it would be alright On Friday I spent some time shopping in the West End, then went to meet my editor for lunch and in the evening re-visited one of my all-time favourite musicals: Willy Russell's "Blood Brothers". I usually try to see new shows instead of seeing the same shows again and again, but some of those I had planned for this trip had already closed and with the persistent rumour that Blood Brothers might soon reach the end of its run, too, I really knew I had to see this one more time. Another reason why I was wary to re-visit Blood Brothers was the incredible impression Barbara Dickson had made on me when I first saw the show in 1991 with her as Mrs Johnstone. She was so fantastic and made me cry for her so much that Stephanie Lawrence, whom I saw a year later and who for many is THE Mrs Johnstone, didn't stand a chance with me. But now so much time had passed that I was ready for a new performer and Linda Nolan (one of the three Nolan sisters who have all played the part in London or on tour) was quite good and convincing (though no match for Barbara either). My problem laid with "Mickey" Stephen Palfreman who didn't convince me at all. In the first act I thought that perhaps he just wasn't good at playing a 7-year old boy, but even later when Mickey was grown up, I couldn't care for him. Add to this that "Eddie" Louis Tramone was a gorgeous young fella, it was really difficult to feel sorry for Mickey and not wish that Linda would just dump him and run off with Eddie. But even so, "Blood Brothers" remained as touching as ever and it says something for the show that Linda Nolan, who's played the role for quite some time now was STILL wiping tears from her eyes when she came to take her bows after the final song "Tell me it's not true" - so strong are the emotions the show stirs not just in the audience but also in the performers. Personally I wouldn't mind if "Blood Brothers" would become another London landmark like the Mousetrap (now in its 50th year!), but even if it has to close some day soon, it had a damned good run while so many other shows floundered and disappeared without a trace. On Saturday I was back on Oxford Street (what is it with the word "Sale"? Does it mean "Come and spend an unreasonably amount of money you wouldn't spend otherwise&"?) and in the afternoon went to see "Our House" at the Cambridge Theatre. Now hereby goes a funny tale. When "Our House", using the songs of 80's pop group Madness, was first announced, I had declared pompously that I would never ever set foot into this show. I was sick of shows recycling pop music, more so since unlike Abba or Queen, Madness meant nothing at all to me. A few Madness songs I listened to then only confirmed that I should give this show a wide berth. But then "Our House" opened and didn't only collect good reviews but more importantly got good word of mouth on the internet. While many critizised the recycling of pop songs, they all acknowledged that at least "Our House" had an original, fresh and interesting story and a great energetic young cast. So here I was at the Cambridge Theatre after all, not quite eating my hat, but almost. The story concerns young Joe Casey from Camden Town and a crime he has committed. When the deed is done, the plot splits into two storylines - one charting Joe's further life after surrendering himself to the police and being sent to jail, the other charting Joe's further life after running away from the scene of crime. The show is one hell of a tour de force for the leading man, who has to do simply everything: He must dance, sing and act, he must be able to do comedy as well as heavy drama and he hardly gets a moment's rest because of all the costume changes between "Good Joe" (dressed in white) and "Bad Joe" (dressed in black). Michael Jibson (a guy who must be in his early twenties, but looks like 15) reaped praise for pulling it off and I could now convince myself that all the praise was well-deserved. In some scenes doubles were used to allow him time for costume changes or to have both Joe's on stage at the same time, but since I sat in row A, it was easy to spot when it was a double and when it was the real Joe (except for one breathtakingly quick costume change on stage in the second act that rightly drew a round of spontaneous applause). The music merits a lame "okay" from me - the big dance numbers fitted well with Madness' pop songs, but I would have wished for a handful of real good musical songs inbetween all the mindnumbing pop. Overall, this was a musical definitely worth seeing and it's a bit of a shame that it will close in August already. Another thought that came up in me after a conversation with a young composer who said that producers don't take the risk to bring something completely unknown to the West End anymore, was: In the 90's we had a lot of lacklustre adaptions of literary classics using an original score that invariably seemed to be cheap Les Mis-imitations built around one or two really nice (but hardly outstanding) big tunes for the leading lady/man. Producers hoped that titles like "Wuthering Heights" or "Jane Eyre" would draw an audience because people knew the books. These days we get the jukebox shows that use old pop music and build original stories around them. So here it's the name of the group that acts as a crowd-puller while the authors can tell an original tale. And while "Mamma mia" was sheer nonsensical fun, both "We will rock you" and "Our House" had a point to make about today's society, dealing with today's issues. So while I don't think that jukebox should be the future of musical theatre and it's far more important to support young composers and writers to get their shows on stage, I also realize that with producers' attitudes being like they are I may sometimes prefer to see a show that tells me a fresh, original story and uses old music to seeing another lacklustre adaption of an old book where I know exactly what will happen on stage and sit through 75 minutes of dire melodies waiting for the one big tune. And while I'm usually not so fond of movie adaptions either (the point being again, that it's hardly original fresh material), I had arranged to see "The Ballad of Little Jo" at the Bridewell Theatre in the evening with Erika.
The Bridewell Theatre is one of my favourite places in London, having earned a great reputation for doing exactly what the big West End producers fail to do: put on fresh new shows, often by unknown writers. "Little Jo", based on the movie of the same title, had collected rave reviews in the London musical community and so it was no surprise that the show was sold out to the last seat on Saturday evening. It's the tale of a young lady from Boston in late 19th century, Josephine Monaghan, who decides to go west after her family kicks her out of the house because of an illegitimate love affair. After being robbed and raped in the wild west, Josephine cuts off her hair, dons breeches and boots and joins the silver miners in Idaho as a young man called Jo. But she becomes involved with a young Chinese man who's the target of abuse for the white miners and stuck in an impossible love triangle when she falls in love with Jordan whose wife Sara falls in love with the pretty young man Jo. Anna Francolini played Jo and although she looked like a cross between Jodie Forster and Frodo the Hobbit with her wide-eyed stare and fuzzy boy wig, she gave a fantastic, touching performance as a woman caught in an impossible situation from which there was no escape. The supporting cast was excellent too and Phong Truong as Jo's young Chinese friend got the best song "Listen to the rain" to sing. A CD of the show is being planned, so when it comes out, go and get it :) So despite my previous whines in emails that London might not really be worth a visit this summer, the town proved me wrong once more. I really enjoyed all four shows I've seen and was pleased to see that they all depended so strongly on great performances by the leading people instead of crushing the cast under heavy scenery and special effects. PS: The photos of Brecon Beacons and Bath were taken from Wikimedia Commons as my own photos have long disappeared in the mists of time...