It isn't every time when you go to the theatre that there is a deathly silence at the end of the show... Only to be broken by somebody in the audience sighing and exclaiming, "Well... THAT was interesting..." But such was the case Sunday afternoon at the wake last performance of the musical All Bob's Women. The show opened Tuesday and posted closing notices the next day. Translated from an Italian show that apparently ran in Milan for months, it is billed as a sexy musical comedy. The problem with the show was that it was not sexy, not musical and it wasn't funny. But no point flogging a dead horse. The Evening Standard, The Stage and (most memorably) The Telegraph cover why it is a disaster. I was surprised by little things like:
The actors had been rehearsing this show for many weeks
Concert-like body mics and deafening sound to match it
Half a taxi-cab appearing on stage
Some weird woman in the audience who cackled every few minutes (I was half-expecting one of the actors would shout out, "Would you keep it down mum?")
Part of the story involves Bob (played by Samuel Oatley) dressing up as a woman to get to know the secret desires of the women he wants to bed. His drag act and clothes worn reminded me of Tom Hanks and Peter Scolari in Bosom Buddies, which may not have made it to Britain so I have included it above. The rest of the story didn't make much sense so I decided for my own entertainment value to fill in the gaps... Bob was a secret agent working for the enemy to corrupt England's slappers. He would find the most unattractive women and mess with their minds until they sang off-key before moving onto the next one. That worked for me.
Large portions of this play Samuel Oatley was parading around in pants. Which was not bad. After Julian Ovenden in his boxers on Friday, the gays in Clapham Saturday and Oatley in his briefs on Sunday it has been quite a pants weekend. I think that is something I can live with. As for the show... It lives on in Youtube thanks to West End Live (if you can put up with the poor camera work and overbearing sax).
Gods and Monsters , now playing at the Southwark Playhouse is a showcase of incredible performances from its terrific cast and an engaging story. Oh and there is a bit of full frontal nudity too. Based on the novel Father of Frankenstein (which was also the source material for the film of the same name ), the story is a blend of fact and fiction. Age, memory, fame, youth and loss collide in the story of the last few months in the life of English director James Whale. Whale director and creator of the first two Frankenstein films, had a moderately successful career in Hollywood which enabled him to live comfortably in Los Angeles. He was also openly gay. But following a series of strokes in his sixties, he lost his ability to prevent painful memories from his past flooding back. And without giving too much away, his most successful creation, the monster in Frankenstein, seems to become something far more personal.
Attending a late-night play during a public transport strike may sound unwise—certainly the choice of a diehard theatre fan, especially since it meant walking London’s streets at midnight to get home. Yet, as I recounted this on Friday to explain my tiredness, I found myself laughing about how funny The Sequel was. Lucas Closs, an emerging writer, fills the play with enough intrigue and absurdity to keep you enthralled—even as you wonder how you’ll get home. It’s currently part of the late show at the King’s Head Theatre. The premise is that Grace (Nisha Emich) returns to the cafe where she wrote her first book, which became wildly successful. The cafe has become a small museum, or shrine, to her work. It is completed with marzipan figures of the main characters. John (Jim Findley), who was a central character and poet in her book, is now a crusty old tour guide. Some years have passed since the novel first appeared, and business isn’t what it used to be. Fewer tourists are making...
Nowadays no self-respecting gay play can be staged without full frontal nudity of some kind. It feels like the default response for the modern gay play now that gay rights are no longer an issue . Afterglow, currently playing at Southwark Playhouse , serves it up in spades. From the beginning, three men are in a bed, naked. There’s what appears to be a very brief exhalation of ecstasy, before the obligatory rush to the shower. But the gratuitous nudity and excellent performances can’t conceal this is a pretty conventional and predictable story about a fantasy couple. The three men in the simultaneous orgasm at the start of the piece are Josh, Alex and Darius. Josh and Alex seem to live in a New York world where they can afford a rooftop apartment in Manhattan while holding jobs as a theatre director and a grad student in chemistry. As writer S. Asher Gelman based it on his own experiences, perhaps gay plays with full frontal nudity are the way to achieve financial ...
