How depressing is the news that Tony and Cherie Blair have bought the late John Gielgud’s magnificent Grade I-listed South Pavilion in Wotton Underwood, Bucks, as their sixth — count’em– home for a small matter of £4million?

What will the Blairs do there? They will probably host community massage conferences with their health and beauty consultant and inveterate Bill Kenwright first-nighter Carole Caplin, whose chum Peter Foster, a convicted conman, helped buy the Blairs two flats in Bristol as part of their property portfolio.

Gielgud loved his house, and its gardens, and the extravagant rococo interiors that the Blairs will probably overlay with flock wallpaper and cheap curtains. It is a symbolic and deadly appropriation of the nation’s culture, and not half as witty as Julian Clary’s purchase of Noel Coward’s Kentish country retreat, Goldenhurst, which I’m sure he treats beautifully.  

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The new David Mitchell and Robert Webb Channel 4 comedy series Peep Show opened with a grumpy pop at the theatre. Which is somewhat ironic as Webb is about to open in a West End play himself, Neil LaBute’s Fat Pig.

Our two soliloquising Croydon anti-heroes booked a double date at a fringe theatre (exterior shooting suggested the Finborough) where something so terrible was going on that Mitchell exploded, under his breath: “If this were on television nobody would be watching…I can’t believe this costs more than going to a film…” and so on.

Webb’s earlier assurance that it was safe to go as theatre’s moved on …”They use proper actors now; Americans and people off the telly”…suggested the duo were being at least semi-ironic themselves.

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I had a feeling that tonight’s sing-off was going to produce one of those curveballs, whereby you are left thinking, “How did they get through? and “why is so and so in the bottom two?” and it happened. More on that later, but first, how did we get there?

Well, firstly, we were shown footage of the girls acting, strangely, after we had voted. The Nancys worked alongside Barbara Windsor and DVO in the real Queen Victoria pub. Jodie bought life experience and was better than I had expected, Samantha looked like a soap star in waiting and I can see her as a teen vamp in Eastenders. Rachel was excellent, contrasting with Jessie who was awful. DVO agreed and then did a U-turn, talking up the Irish lass!

JUDGES’ FAVES

The group number was Lionel Bart’s “Fings Ain’t What They Used To Be.” DVO singled out (surprise, surprise!) Jessie, John praised Niamh (why?!) and Barry liked Jodie. Andrew said it was unfair to single anyone out, but then mentioned Jessie as the strongest link. I am either watching a different show to many of the judges, I am a miserable critic, or this show is geared around false comments which equal phone votes!

OLIVERS’ FAVE

The Olivers chose Sarah as their Nancy and she sang a group number with them. (more…)

I think Andrew Lloyd Webber must be relishing his role as the ’sulky’ judge as we witnessed a real spoof style moment, whereby he said “You don’t need to film this bit!” before stomping off. This show is certainly more formulated than all the others. But, it sure makes for good telly, whatever Kevin Spacey thinks!

The Nancys have started to look like they want it now and you can also sense that the ’sisters’ aspect of the show is starting to ebb away, as individuals are now stepping forward, away from the rest of the pack.

First up is Jodie with a very male song: “Luck Be a Lady” from the hit show, Guys And Dolls. Her acting is coming along also and Andrew says she is 10% away from being fabulous.” She has bags of personality and gives a turn which is exactly what musical theatre should be. There are some rough cabaret edges but I have seen far more O.T.T performers than her on stage recently. All power to her as she is listening and really learning.

Sarah is certainly acting better but comments that she has never been in the situation evoked by the song “Mr Bojangles!” Well, that’s what acting is for, Sarah! She delivers a good performance but it feels really stage-school and too squeaky clean for me. I am starting to get bored, as she seems to do the same every week now. (more…)

Suddenly epics are everywhere. Ardent cycle addicts can see all eight of the RSC’s Shakespeare Histories at the Roundhouse in the space of four days. A six-hour version of War and Peace has been occupying Hampstead Theatre. Even a living dramatist, Mark Ravenhill, lately came up with a set of 18 plays, Shoot/Get Treasure/Repeat, admittedly lasting only 20 minutes each.

Why are we so hooked on epic structures? Mostly, I think it’s part of theatre’s need to be seen as an “event”. We are bombarded daily with a ceaseless flow of information and entertainment. We also talk of “dropping in” to a movie and often give television half our attention. But theatre confirms its special-ness by making inordinate demands on us. People fought for tickets for the recent Covent Garden Ring cycle. And I’m told the first seats to sell out for the RSC Histories were the eight-pack weekend cycles.

I’ve sat through a lot of day-long shows in my time. It all began with Peter Hall’s The Wars of the Roses back in 1963. Since then, we’ve had numerous comparable events: The Oresteia, The Mysteries, Tom Stoppard’s The Coast of Utopia and the David Hare trilogy at the National; John Barton’s ten-play version of The Greeks at the RSC; Tantalus at the Barbican. And something extraordinary happens on these days. You start talking to complete strangers. You feel an unusual bond with the actors. Daily normality retreats into the background. So hermetic is the world created during these theatrical marathons that I suspect some people discover, or possibly even lose, their life-partners.

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