Last week I went to see Paso Doble at the Barbican, which, after all the press coverage, was a little underwhelming. Two guys messing around with clay onstage was amusing, and while it was certainly interesting to see this performance art piece rather than merely viewing the artists’ finished product, I couldn’t really take away any lasting impression from it. It disappeared a little bit up its own art.
I also saw a preview performance of The Lover/The Collection at the Comedy Theatre, after the Old Vic/New Voices deal allowed me to nab a £45 ticket in the dress circle for only £12. I know very little about Pinter, having never read or seen any of his plays, and seeing as we’re meant to be studying him next year at school I figured this might help give an insight into what makes Pinter so brilliant.
Not a lot, on the strength of this double bill. Or at least, not much of substance. The evening seemed a little too twee and safe for my liking, very much suited to a West End audience who were happy to chuckle away during those famous Pinter pauses, which tended to follow after lines that didn’t strike me as particulary hilarious. That isn’t to say the plays weren’t funny, or good. I just couldn’t help thinking there was underlying darkness to them that never really got a chance to break through – especially in The Lover. I’m always reading about Pinter being celebrated as a writer of comic menace. It’s a shame that this production chose to focus on the former at the expense of the latter.
I read my first Eugene O’Neill play at the weekend – The Hairy Ape – and thought it was great. I haven’t really read much American drama apart from the Tennessee Williams that I studied for A Level, and there were definite similarities between the two, especially in the incredibly detailed, poetic stage directions. O’Neill’s Yank struck me as a kind of tragic version of Williams’ Stanley Kowalski from A Streetcar Named Desire. I couldn’t help recalling the brilliant The Brothers Size at the Young Vic when I was reading The Hairy Ape and thinking it would benefit from the same kind of approach.
Also saw Sweeney Todd at the cinema with me mum. A little underwhelming. I thought it was fantastic visually, but the songs never really held me. It was a bit like Sleepy Hollow with more gore and some songs chucked in. Whereas I watched Hairspray and thought “I bet the stage version would be brilliant”, whilst watching Sweeney Todd I found myself thinking “I wonder if the original is any better?”
Coming up: Dead Wedding at the Barbican, White Boy at the Soho, and hopefully I have time to squeeze in a viewing of Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead.
Oh, and I’ve started watching Lost again from where I fell off ages ago: a third of the way through Season Two. I think I might get hooked again. Which is probably just as well seeing as J.J. Abrams’ weirdfest Cloverfield is coming here very soon.
