Category Archives: Michael Coveney

Welcome to the archieved posts of Michael Coveney’s blog. Michael’s blog has now moved. To see posts for this blog written after September 2010, please click here to visit the new blog page.

Conor Mitchell is one our most promising musical theatre writers, but he shows too many signs of remaining just that. A new production of his short, sub-Sondheim threnody for lost childhood, The Dummy Tree, playing at the tiny Tristan Bates … Continue reading →

The dedicatee of Simon Callow’s new book, My Life in Pieces — is this the best ever title for a collection of journalism and occasional articles ? — is Vernon Dobtcheff. Who he? An actor of Russian Jewish extraction, now … Continue reading →

Having missed Michael Grandage’s acclaimed production of Billy Budd at Glyndebourne, I took the opportunity of seeing what all the fuss was about at a screening in the magnificent courtyard of Somerset House on Friday evening. This was a tape, … Continue reading →

I have only just learned of the bizarrely appropriate circumstances of the death of that notable theatrical historian and archivist, David Cheshire, earlier this year. The author of countless articles on ‘Orrible ‘Appenings in Theatres and Theatre Ghosts dropped dead … Continue reading →

The BBC Proms is the greatest festival of live music in the world and we all feel part of it every summer, whether we go to the Albert Hall or just stay home listening on the radio. Even if you … Continue reading →

Our leading theatre directors are branching out in all operatic directions. Michael Grandage and Jonathan Kent have made waves at Glyndebourne this summer, but two less lauded helmers, Jonathan Munby and Martin Duncan, have scored personal triumphs, too, in their … Continue reading →

There are certain actors you just love whatever they do, and Dudley Sutton, with his battered cherub face and incorrigible weak “Rs”,  is one of them. The original Mr Sloane in Joe Orton’s play is now an unlikely 77 years … Continue reading →

“You’re sitting next to Charlie Cox’s mum,” whispered Baz Bamigboye as we took our pews in the Donmar last night for The Prince of Homburg, with Charlie in the lead. I was glad for the tip off. Didn’t want to … Continue reading →

I spent most of my birthday weekend in and around Baker Street: onstage, in a restaurant and on television. The Secret of Sherlock Holmes at the Duchess was not nearly as bad as it’s been cracked down to be; a … Continue reading →