Miranda Sawyer

I ’ve seen my fair share of films-turned-into-live-shows over the past couple of years. All About My Mother, The Producers, The Sound of Music, Dirty Dancing: I’ve endured or enjoyed them all. Live performance can be the most transformative, exhilarating experience, or it can kill you, drip by drip, clonking metaphor by clonking metaphor, wasted minute by wasted minute. Desperately Seeking Susan, the flick-turned-musical I saw last Tuesday, was like an exclusive audience invitation. To commit hara-kiri. Blondie’s songs, kidnapped and forced into hard labour because Madonna wouldn’t license the original music, butchered by rawk arrangements and a bellowing cast; charmless leads; cheap costumes; tacky tacky tacky. And what is it with musical choreography?

As a freelance journalist, I spend far too much time ensconced in my festering paper mountain of an office, tapping away on subjects as vital to the world as the size 00 ‘debate’ and the imminent reunion of The Police. It’s always nice to get out, so a visit to the opening of ArtFutures was very welcome. An annual show curated by the fantastic Contemporary Art Society, and staged at Bloomberg, ArtFutures is packed full of buy-me-now pieces by artists who are poised to be something big. The idea is that the work displayed is affordable and portable, so you can snap it up and whisk it away to show to your accountant. ArtFutures is a big art shop. Early-evening Wednesday, there was a vast and dazzling selection of work.