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Lent Day 21: Reviewverload - A Most Illuminating Tale
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Robert Wells or Mr Waters
Date: 6.31 pm, Tuesday 29th March, 2011
Subject: Lent Day 21: Reviewverload
Security: Public
Location:N22
Tags:lent
Where was I? Oh yes. Sunday we saw Carl Davis conducting his own score for the 1925 Phantom of the Opera (although I now see we were watching a silent version of the 1929 release). The score works wonderfully and it is a joy to see something so artfully performed by so many people be so well synchronised to the film.

Last night diamond_geyser took me to the last Horne Section at the Shaftesbury Theatre (AKA Thriller) which featured Schlomo, Tom Baden, Tim Key, Harry Hill and Andrew Van Buren. I've now got to the stage where I've seen it enough times that what really thrilled were variations in the "material". The beautiful sidemen was accompanied by Schlomo on percussion. The egg routine (Key and Horne) ran into their attempt at singing How Do You Like Your Eggs In The Morning?

After a drink, walked to Green Park to get on the tube and past Fortnum and Masons, which seemed oblivious to the fuss it has been causing. The Ritz is almost totally boarded up.

Here's some play reviews:
Noir by Peter Straughan is a metatheatrical affair. A lecturer in film theory gives lectures that highlight the film cliches of the swirling mass of events around her. A security guard who snoops on a wandering wife and then mistakes her for a waitress who he has an affair with. Her father is dealing in something dodgy at the local church. Told out of sequence, but explicitly (with projected captions to show where and when we are), it ties knots, some of which pull tight, some of which disappear, and one of which gets hacked with a knife. Excellent.

Stinkfoot, a Comic Opera is an English musical with book, music, and lyrics by Vivian Stanshall and Ki Longfellow-Stanshall. It is nonsensical and shambolic as it tells of a fading old Music Hall star and his creations (singing animals, puppets). I'd have loved to see it as you can feel the love for the project dripping out of it. Parts were written for the actors who happened to be there to show whatever talents they had. The music, the styling, the venue are all sadly lacking in a black and white script after the event.

Polar Bears by Mark Haddon tells of a mentally ill woman, her husband, her brother and her mother. Oh, and Jesus. Told out of sequence (but ambiguously) it starts with her death and jumps around the subject of what could have led to it. Mostly it smacks to me of odd for odds sake.

More later as my poor machine is on the brink of collapse.
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