It's not been a particularly inspiring start to the New Year but at least the only way is up. I caught up with Women On The Verge Of ANervous Breakdown at the Playhouse on Tuesday and I have to say that it wasn't great. There was greatness in there - good solid songs oozing samba rhythms and flamenco beats - from David Yazbek, the same guy behind Dirty Rotten Scoundrels; Almaldovar's movie is lauded as one of the great Spanish comedies of our time and launched both his career and kick-started that of Antonio Banderas; I admire Tamsin Grieg as a performer and Haydn Gwynne is easily one of the West End's secret weapons; Anthony Ward is an exquisite designer, whose work I have long admired. Sadly it just didn't gel. Bartlett Sher's direction seems awfully pedestrian, the choreography perfunctory and the casting off-kilter.
I was back in the Charing Cross area the next evening for
Truth, Lies, Diana - a 'factional mock-u-drama' examining the death of Princess
Diana. Author Jon Conway is obviously passionate about the subject but his
writing style and dramatic structure leave much to be desired. The presumably
partisan audience decided to treat the drama like a pantomime and started to
boo the baddie 'establishment figure' as he trotted out the X-file style clichés
that invariably closed each scene. Conway is a confident stage presence but
really doesn't do drama well - he's a natural comedian - and easily the most
successful moments were the occasionally groan-some jokes.
On a different note, I was invited to hospitality ahead of
the show at 7pm. I was rather looking forward to this and having a chin-wag
with the other reviewers about Women On The Edge or whatever. It turns out that
the hospitality was a drinks voucher and a seat upstairs, while most of the
other reviewers I know were at Bat Boy - hey-ho! Tomorrow night, I am at the
Above The Stag Theatre in Vauxhall.
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