Arts Reviews

In these dank days of January, the mind struggles to escape the claustrophobia of an English winter, weighed down by heavy grey skies or hemmed in by suffocating mists (pungent with the smell of jet fuel). A couple of atmospheric programmes on Radio Four this week came to the rescue, creating soundscapes so rich in aural texture that it was possible for a while to escape into an alternative life. On Tuesday morning A Voyage on Livingstone’s Lake (produced by Ruth Evans) took us into the heart of Africa, to the lake discovered by the explorer in 1859. Stretching halfway down the length of what was once Nyasaland (but is

Henrietta Bredin talks to Ian McDiarmid about turning a novel set in Scotland into a play Ian McDiarmid possesses a voice that, if he chose to let it, could curdle milk. Half-strangled and poisonously clotted it emerges in an evil flow in his portrayal of the Emperor Palpatine in the Star Wars films. As Satan in Milton’s Paradise Lost, it is all silken seduction and hidden threat. In his next stage role, his voice will be heard, not just as an actor, but as the author of an adaptation of Be Near Me, the novel by Andrew O’Hagan. He will play Father David Anderton, a Catholic priest in a small

Well Apollo Hit Me! The Life and Rhymes of Ian Dury Leicester Square In Blood: The Bacchae Arcola So what does the theatre critic make of the recession? No one’s asked me, actually, so here goes. Leaving aside the obsessive 24-hour media coverage, there’s little trace of it in the real world. Immunise your bonce against the gloom-rites of the newspapers and you’ll see that the impending ‘slump’ (dimple, actually) will prove to be the briefest and shallowest downturn in economic history. By next Christmas the factories will be pumping out skiploads of new consumer junk, the FTSE will be performing dizzying feats of alpinism at the 6,000 mark and

I suppose it must have seemed a neat idea at the time, but Dan Drezner is absolutely correct: Bono’s debut column for the New York Times is simply gibberish*. I guess one of the perks of celebrity is being able to find a publisher for nonsense that would, quite correctly, be rejected out of hand were it submitted by an average hack. Like Dan, I’ve no idea what point Bono is trying to make beyond a) he knew Frank Sinatra and b) people like Sinatra’s songs. *And that’s after it was edited. Did no-one at the NYT pause to ask “Hang on, why are we printing this tripe?” Or did

Circus Cirque du Soleil has taken a surreal turn with its latest show, Quidam, at the Albert Hall: a headless man with an open umbrella, a crowd of people wearing white protective overalls doing, well, nothing much … but it’s the acts what count. Most are thrilling: a couple lift, stretch and contort themselves in slow motion into anatomically-unbelievable positions; four Chinese girls looking about 12 years old spin their diabolos; and other members of the company skip, somersault, tumble and chuck one another high into the air. Lots more good stuff and, thank heavens, no tedious clowns — there’s only one, and he’s actually quite funny. Film Critics have

William Cook talks to the creators of some of TV’s funniest and best-loved comedy programmes As our economy disappears down the plughole, along with the reputations of most of our bankers and politicians, the one consolation is that entertainers like Russell Brand and Jonathan Ross suddenly seem terribly passé. When you’re broke, there’s nothing entertaining about other people’s affluence — or decadence — and, even if you can make ends meet, failure is always far funnier than success. The two men who understand this better than anyone are sitting side by side on the same sofa, in the august but comfy drawing room of a grand old house near Hampton