Arts Reviews

The good, bad and ugly in arts and exhbitions

Senior moments

Time to pay tribute to New Tricks, which ended its most recent run on BBC1 this Monday. The penultimate episode had 8.9 million viewers, which meant that more people watched it that night than Coronation Street. It has a good claim to be the most popular programme on television. All of this brings much satisfaction. For one thing, New Tricks is everything a TV marketing man hates. It is about older people. It probably appeals to older people. Marketing men have a set of beliefs which are quite as irrational as any cult religion. One is that only young people are worth advertising to, since they are crazed neo-philiacs and

The Deil’s Awa Wi’ the Exciseman (and several others)

Can this really be true? And if so, is it hilarious or horrifying? Or, perhaps, both… David Gest and, of all people, Michael Jackson are recording an album of Robert Burns’ poetry: Gest’s spokesman said the album is a modern musical take on some of Burns’ classic poems, and had been a long cherished project. He explained that he and Jackson were originally planning to do a musical about Burns’s life, but decided instead to turn his poetry into show tunes. Poems featured on the album include Ae Fond Kiss and Tam O’Shanter, the story of a man from Ayr who stays too long in a pub and witnesses a

Artistic diversity

Love National Gallery, until 5 October It’s that time of the year — some call it the Silly Season — when a themed exhibition visits the Sunley Rooms of the National Gallery, after previously showing at Bristol’s City Museum and Art Gallery, and the Laing Art Gallery, Newcastle upon Tyne. This is the seventh in a series of collaborative exhibitions organised by the NG in partnership with Bristol and Tyne & Wear Museums, and this year the selection of exhibits relies very heavily on the National’s collection, with only one work each borrowed from Bristol and Newcastle. Happily, there is no restriction to sourcing loans elsewhere, so the show does

Thin on the ground

Ben X 15, Key cities August is a hopeless month for movies — it’s when the big studios dump their worst films on us, pretty much — and so there is very little worth seeing, let alone reviewing. I did think about seeing the new Will Ferrell comedy, Step Brothers, but after catching the tail end of a trailer I thought: ‘Actually, I’d rather dash my head against a door jamb.’ And I did think about seeing the new Vin Diesel film, Babylon A.D., but then I caught the tail end of that trailer and thought, ‘Actually, I’d rather dash my head against a door jamb and then stuff my

Heart of the matter

Gone Too Far! Hackney Empire Eating Ice Cream on Gaza Beach Soho Piaf Donmar Anyone for a knife crime comedy? Bola Agbaje’s attempt to get laughs from our anxieties about blade-wielding teenagers might have been a disaster if the script hadn’t been so witty and its examination of the subdivisions within black culture so penetrating. The play starts out, rather improbably, with a Nigerian boy Ikudayesi arriving to spend time with his brother Yemi who has been brought up in Britain. Yemi has always posed as a fashionable Caribbean and suppressed his west African lineage from a misplaced sense of shame. As a mixed-race kid puts it, ‘The Africans sold

That was the year that was

‘The only way you can help us,’ said the young student on the archive recording, his voice thin and wavering through the ether, as if emasculated by the Soviet tanks that had just invaded his native city, Prague. ‘Don’t forget Czechoslovakia.’ The streets were filled with young people, who were bravely trying to talk with the soldiers, many of whom could not speak Russian but were brought in from the far reaches of the Soviet territories and had more in common with their Chinese neighbours than the Mittel Europeans. But active resistance, they knew, was pointless. ‘We are a small nation. What chances do we have against the Red Army?’

Perennial Cézanne

Andrew Lambirth on the artist’s profound and far-reaching influence For a certain generation of English artists, there have been enough Cézanne exhibitions to last more than one lifetime. These are the painters who had the gospel of Cézanne rammed down their gullets at art school, and who feel that the world has other things to offer. Roger Fry was the first great apostle of Cézanne in England, who at every opportunity lectured the unwary on the principles of ‘significant form’ and the consciousness-changing gifts of the master. Henry Tonks (who, as head of the Slade, resisted the siren call of modern art as forcefully as he could) caricatured him mercilessly

Way Down in the Hole | 22 August 2008

As a wise man* told me, “art imitates life which then imitates art”: The Baltimore Sun reports: Felicia “Snoop” Pearson, known for her role on HBO’s “The Wire,” was released from jail after being picked up on a warrant for refusing to cooperate with prosecutors handling a murder case in which she is a witness. *Thanks, reader JT.

Fighting the bulldozer

Fifty years ago, when the Irish Georgian Society was founded, the bulldozer was a familiar sight in Ireland, trundling along elegant urban terraces and drawing up at the gates of country houses. One of the bulldozer’s prominent Dublin victims half a century ago was No. 2 Kildare Place. This 1751 gem, just next to the Dail, was in excellent condition; the house was only destroyed because the state, which owned the building, had no desire to maintain it. One government minister even said of the Kildare Place demolitions, ‘I was glad to see them go. They stand for everything I hate.’ Fifty years on, and things are a lot better.

Bracing Bernstein

West Side Story Sadler’s Wells Tête à Tête Riverside Studios, Hammersmith West Side Story is just over half a century old, and unlike most famous musicals of its period, or any other, it doesn’t just get ‘revived’ every now and then, it is very much in the repertory — but of what? There’s hardly such a thing as a repertory of musicals, or if there is then this is almost the only plausible member. And it seems not to suit opera companies, though that may be partly because of the demands it makes. But there is the further question of what kind of singers it requires, and the touring production

Festival frugalities

Deep Cut Traverse Jidariyya Royal Lyceum 4.48 Psychosis King’s Theatre Eco-Friendly Jihad Underbelly Please Don’t Feed The Models Underbelly Scaramouche Jones Assembly Rooms Absolution Assembly Rooms Snap! That’s the sound of the credit crunch biting into attendance figures at Edinburgh. This year the Royal Mile teems with unloved luvvies urging discounted tickets on sceptical punters, and the city’s population of cadgers and tramps has fled. Usually they hover like spy planes and swoop on you demanding ‘a poond’. I was approached just once by a hapless ruin humbly tilting for 15 pence. This slump’s getting serious. Even the beggars are going out of business. There are winners, of course. Previously

Poverty of the soul

It’s not so bad being awake at three in the morning, with an unseasonably chilly wind blowing and the rain lashing at the window, when it gives you the chance to catch up with the World Service. During the day it’s always such a hassle to find the network unless you’re fully converted in all rooms and radio sets to the After Digital age and don’t have to twiddle with the knobs until you arrive at 648 MW. Maybe they should bring the World into Radio Four in the daylight hours? It could be a cost-saving device that would also really transform the home service, creating a truly global outlook

All roads lead East

Andrew Lambirth on our continuing fascination with the Orient Almost everywhere you look these days there’s an exhibition to do with China or the Far East. Tinselly young oriental artists are fêted as if they were better than their limp-brained occidental counterparts, and scarcely a considered brushstroke between them. The East is Big Business and there’s more than one specialist agent concentrating on bringing over Chinese contemporary art to deluge the already schmaltz-surfeited English market. The old-established dealers, such as Eskenazi (10 Clifford Street, London W1), are world-leaders in the field of Chinese art, and show historical work of the highest quality, such as the earthenware horse and rider from

On the road with a long-distance morris dancer

‘I’m morris dancing to Norwich and I need someone to captain my road-crew. You’re the only man for the job. Yours, Tim.’ Tim FitzHigham, Bt. BA Hons. Dunelm. FRGS (all Ret.) is a man so wildly different even Ranulph Fiennes thinks he’s a little crazy. And Sir Ranulph is by no means alone. When Tim rowed the Channel in an original Thos. Crapper bath (one example among many), Marcus Brigstocke felt duty-bound to ask him if he was aware that ‘most of us just stay at home and write our jokes from there’. Naturally, I took the job (who the hell else was going to?) and thus found myself playing

Pick of Edinburgh

Dybbuk King’s Theatre Britt on Britt Assembly Rooms Surviving Spike Assembly Rooms Perhaps it should be the Inter-notional Festival. The posh bit of Edinburgh, the International Festival, is incurably besotted with the idea of conceptual hybrids, of cross-fertilisation between cultures. Their first offering is Dybbuk, a show about Jews, ghosts and exorcism, set in Poland and performed in Polish with an idiot-board over the stage showing a translation for English-speakers. The story is a little hard to grasp. A bride has been possessed by the spirit of her dead lover on the eve of her wedding. Meanwhile, an emigrant somewhere in America is being haunted by a Holocaust victim who

Doctor Who in Elsinore

Hamlet Courtyard Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon Star casting at Stratford runs the risk of propelling a show into an orbit hard to track or make sense of. Such is inevitably the case with the casting of David Tennant as Hamlet. Director Gregory Doran apparently got the idea from the BBC’s Who Do You Think You Are? In quest of his bloodline, Tennant was visiting a church in Northern Ireland and casually picked up a skull from an excavation. ‘I saw your audition for Hamlet,’ ran Doran’s text message. Doubtless he’d also not forgotten that the play’s very first line just happens to be ‘Who’s there?’ — and the thing was settled. In

My top five hates at the opera/theatre/concert/cinema

1.   Sitting beside a foot-tapper beating time 2.   Sitting next to a person who texts throughout a performance 3.   Sitting next to/behind/in front of a snorer/fidgeter/cougher/sniffer/whisperer 4.   Sitting behind over-tall people and those who wear hats 5.   Sitting beside an obese person who spills over into my seat