Sunday, August 17, 2008

David Tennant's Hamlet (includes Epic Theatre Etiquette Rant)

Unless you abjectly refuse to interact with any form of news or affairs, you will probably know that David Tennant, of Doctor Who fame, has taken on the formidable role of Hamlet, the run at the RSC's Courtyard Theatre in Stratford-Upon-Avon having begun during the last week of July (although I would like to point out that, being a member of the RSC and getting all the literature in the mail, I got the Summer program listing him as Hamlet and blogged it before any crummy newspaper even got wind of it *plug*). I can happily report with the play fresh in my mind that it was an absolutely brilliant production - well directed, a number of exceptional performances, and barely any weak links in the cast. Tennant, after a couple of weeks of performances, has matured well into the role, nailing the madness and using every part of his body (which is quite refreshing - no straight-faced stiff-backed speech delivery here), and his comic timing (yes, they wrung the so-called tragedy for every possible laugh) is exquisite. During the three and a half hour play, my mind didn't wander in the slightest - not a second of boredom. Even if you like Shakespeare, that's not common.



I was sitting right next to the one of the entrances to the thrust stage, so every time he entered from one side of the theatre (stage-left? stage-right? it's always confused me) he would rush past, and despite my best efforts I couldn't help but feel excited that Doctor Who had passed within a metre of me. You could tell the audience collectively held their breath as he walked into his first scene, or was left for his first soliloquy, and even though I tried not to see him as the gallivanting Timelord, you couldn't help but recognize some his mannerisms, or the slightly manic look that's present in both roles (although it didn't help that Russel T Davies, ex-executive producer and ex-chief writer of Doctor Who was sitting on the other side of the theatre and walked right past me in the lobby).

But that's just the thing that I'm going to rant about (and you thought I was never going to get there...)! Tennant is a serious actor, not just Doctor Who. His RSC credits include As You Like It, Comedy of Errors and Romeo and Juliet, as well as the most recent Hamlet and Love's Labour's Lost, and in the past has been nominated for an Olivier. The RSC actually had to ban people coming to the stage-door to get Doctor Who (and Star Trek - Patrick Stewart a.k.a. Captain Jean-Luc Picard was also in the cast) merchandise signed. Do people not know how to behave at theatres? You might have seen this picture in the paper, but seriously, do people think he wants Doctor Who to follow him everywhere? Obviously he knows that when he takes as massive a role as the Doctor, it's going to affect his image, but even so, when he's actually a serious actor as well as everyone's favourite alien (apart from E.T. - no one beats E.T.) you'd think people would be more considerate.



And since I'm on the topic, behaviour in the theatres also needs a kick in the guts. I went to the Lee Mead production of Joseph at the Adelphi (which wasn't bad - Lee Mead has a great voice and the production was ok, but he can't act for toffee and to be brutally honest, someone needed to re-cast almost everybody else) in London, and I spent the whole evening just moaning about the etiquette in the theatre (because I'm that cool). The worst thing, was food. You don't have food in a theatre! It's just a fact, a rule! But of course, it's broken as easily as an iPod when the theatre owners realize they can charge massive prices for drinks and make a killing. But, say, a glass of wine in the foyer before going in, I can live with. Heck, I'll forgive you for a bottle of water to take in and sip quietly if you have a coughing fit and start to die. But as soon as you let people take food in, the rustling of sweet packets and the crunching of biscuits is suddenly louder than anything on stage. But I'm afraid the Adelphi just crossed the line with popcorn. When someone says popcorn, I think "with a large soft drink and nachos for a special discount!". Popcorn = something you eat at the cinema. Fact. Not at the theatre. Believe me, I'm all for opening up the theatre to people who wouldn't otherwise do anything cultural in their lives, but (and here tact can sod off), if they start ruining the performance for those of us who aren't there just to see "Lee Mead's cute butt" which was on TV, then I'm afraid they can bugger off home.

BUUUUUUUURN. But yeah, Hamlet was awesome, so I'd advise trying to get tickets for the month-long London run starting December 9th.

And while I'm here, Heroes seasons 1 and 2 are now out on DVD boxset for £50, and with series 3 starting with a 3-hour episode on 22nd September, and being aired soon after in the UK on BBC2, it's definitely worth a buy.

Peace out!

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Ich bin ein Berliner!

A wet morning in March. Drizzling politely, not pouring. Skies overcast and temperature low. Fairly British I'd say. Cars rolled into the Quad at Tonbridge School and one by one the trippers stepped out into the rain, unflinchingly splashing through puddles onto the coach. An hour and a bit later, we were at Heathrow. Sitting in Costa Coffee. A habit which would become second nature to some of us over the course of the coming Sunday-through-Sunday school trip to Germany's capital Berlin.

First thing I'd advise you to do when going to Berlin is to check the weather. During the course of the trip, it snowed twice (on one occasion settling to about 3 cm deep), rained with intensity ranging from drizzle to downpour and the temperature outside was below freezing on a number of occasions. Tip: take a coat. And a thermal vest. Thermal vests are good.

Another thing I reckon I ought to mention: it's illegal to do a Hitler salute in Germany. Like, at all. Which is perfectly understandable, and I haven't got a problem with the law itself. But practically, it's quite inconvenient. I mean, how often do you want to raise your arm to eye level or above every day? Maybe if you're pointing to something, or raising your hand in accordance to something. And high-fives: we're pretty frequent high-fivers and so as not to look like we were paying tribute to Hitler every time we did something awesome, we had to resort to low-fives, an alteration of the classic celebration that almost drew blood when someone held out their hand for one over a plate with a fork on it. Fortunately, no one got arrested, but I can think of several near misses for myself, just pointing to something.

For four of the days we were out there, we had lessons at the BWS Germanlingua Centre, an excellent language school in the centre of Berlin. Lessons were interesting and the amount I learnt was incredible. I'm fairly on top of the grammar I have to know at this stage already, so I didn't learn much on that front. But it was the fluency and vocab that I achieved after four days speaking it constantly with an actual German person, rather than "speaking" it for 30 minutes every other day in a classroom. Plus, when lessons finished for the day, you were still surrounded 24/7 by the language, whether you were ordering food, going round museums, or just eavesdropping on random people you see in the street. Oh, and they sort out German host-families for you to stay with. Result: Deutsch-flavoured gut-ness.

On the subject of flavour, the trip made me realize (through no fault of its location or program, but simply by the nature in which I had lots of freedom and lots of free time) how much I bloody love fast food. Now when I say fast food, I'm including the healthier joints like Subway (hmmmm, meatball sub), the niches like Häagen-Dazs (hmmmm, cookies and cream), the coffee houses like Starbucks (it costs WHAT!?!?) and the poisonous yet heavenly grounds of places like McDonalds (that's right, you heard me, twenty chicken McNuggets please). Basically, we spent a great amount of time in these places. Don't get me wrong, the dinners our host families provided were superb (with the exception of a disgusting piece of cake I paid my partner € 5.47 to eat for me)! But, even though we were fairly good at the language and keen to learn, the conversation round the dinner table was one of the most excruciating experiences of my life. I swear to God they were using long words on purpose just to show us up... What was worse is that there were two other students staying with the same family, both of whom were considerably more fluent than us. Consequently, we only ate dinner at home twice. All other meals (other than breakfast and a couple of lunches at the bakery near the language school) were at one of the aforementioned gourmet halls. To be honest, if I wanted to have an itinerary to remember the trip by, I could simply get a blood test and then track what we did each day by the number of physical symptoms acquired.

One of many things that Germany does incredibly well is the transport system. You know how in England, catching a train requires detailed study of the few-and-far-between maps, an in-depth understanding of the ticket system, a great sense of timing, an enormous amount of patience, and lastly a lot of money? (Yes I know I'm exaggerating). Well in Germany, the trains (that includes the S-Bahn(train), U-Bahn(tube/underground), Straßenbahn(tram)) are frequent, on time, cheap, easy to understand, and clean. What's more, I'd say the lines themselves enable you to get from anywhere to anywhere else in Berlin with only two trains, three maximum. And they actually work! In England you have to find the train station (in Berlin, wherever you look you'll probably see the big "S" or "U" signifying a station), buy a ticket if you don't have a travel card (in Berlin you can get passes for 7 days, for a month, for a year) and find and get on the train after sticking your card through a stupid machine (in Berlin you can waltz into the station and be on the train in 30 seconds - provided you carry your ticket with you in case you're checked, you can go wherever you want, as many times as you want). In fact we loved the transport system and being able to use it easily so much that sometimes, if we had free time, we went train-hopping. Completely pointless. You get on a random train for a couple of stops, get out when you feel like it and get on the train immediately across the platform without even looking at where it's headed. Great fun. Once we did this for about 80 minutes (although this was the day I realized how much I'd missed listening to music, and so had found my iPod and spent the day being very anti-social), then when we decided to get back to where we needed to be for the evening's activity, we were back where we started within 10 minutes. Cool, huh? Oh, and the drivers of the double-decker trains (that's right, double-decker trains exist for long-distance journeys) have a secondary job description: DJs. Every time they made an announcement over the intercom, a little two-part polyphonic tune played. Sounds silly, but it gave us all considerable amusement during the journey.

Having got back to the house at whatever hour after a busy day's German-learning and sight-seeing, most of what remained of the evening, the oncoming night and often several hours of the early morning were spent chatting or playing with one of the countless packs of souvenir playing cards I like to buy (so much more practical than postcards). This meant firstly that myself and my partner got to know each other considerably better, and secondly that we both obtained serious skill in the game of Rummy. Neither of which is a bad thing. Both being incredible wits, we were usually rolling in laughter over something amusing that had happened that day, and that we had then expanded like the comedy genii that we are. So much so that my partner, who usually shuffled, kept losing, though I insisted he had a subconscious masochistic streak which was forcing him to fix the cards while shuffling and thus deal himself a bad hand.

The week's activities other than lessons ranged from playing football on an astro used by many German politicians after a long day politic-ing, right through visiting churches, going to the opera and touring museums to bowling. The choice of museums in Berlin is fantastic, being such a historical place an' all. We visited the Checkpoint Charlie museum (all about the Berlin wall and various attempts to get over/under it), the Reichstag (not actually a museum - they built the German parliament with a glass roof so you can go above it and look down into the going ons of politics), the Pergamon Museum (the German equivalent of the British Museum - basically stuff from ancient civilizations they've nicked in the past) and the Jewish Museum (fantastic architecture and an amusing gift shop - more on that later). To be honestly, museums aren't my favourite thing in the world. But I found a lot of the ones we visited (especially the Jewish museum) really fascinating, and there are enough museums in Berlin to keep any tourist happy for several blue moons. Heck, there's even an island named "Museum Island"!

Now, I mentioned the amusing gift shop in the Jewish Museum. Amusing in that it stocked a Moses action figure. Not just a Moses Action Figure though - a Moses Action Figure with detachable Staff and 10 Commandments. And on the back it had all sorts of fun facts. For example, his age, job and achievements were given with extensive detail, and it even had the 10 Commandments and the Plagues. My partner bought one (he assures me as a collectible) and we got some great material from it: 1) The First Born Son in every family dies - "YES, I get my brother's room!" and 2) 3 days of Darkness - "Couldn't you just turn the CD Player off?"



So in conclusion, Berlin rocks. I'd definitely go back there - one week was nowhere near enough to see everything in the city. But even if you're not a massive sight-seeing maniac, Berlin is a great city just to be in, just to walk around completely freely and enjoy. It's beautiful, it's filled with great places to be, shops to shop in and establishments to eat in, and I'm told that it has a fantastic night life.

That's all for now. Over an' out.

Sunday, January 6, 2008

Grumble 1: Odeon Cinemas

About a week ago, myself and two of my "internet mates" (i.e. people I've communicated with on the internet for a long while, and now meet in real life occasionally - which happens to be the opposite way most of my relationships work, but hey) decided we would go up to London today and see "I Am Legend". Being internet nerds, we are of course obsessed with zombies, and one of us has a weird crush on Will Smith, so it was the perfect choice. It was a bit of a spontaneous thing, what with restrictive parents and all, but we organized it quite efficiently, and we were all looking forward to it. One of us even went to the heights of the word "stoked" to describe his excitement.

So we all managed to get up to London without mishap (which is saying something since one of us has a habit of walking along motorways when he can't find the train station) and, after we had sandwiched and cookied at Subway and Millie's Cookies (veritable delicacies, I assure you) we went into the Odeon.

Now, in Leicester Square, Odeon have decided to buy every other building and write their name in big letters above it. So of course, we're not sure which one to go in. We choose a random one, and sure enough there's a Box Office in it. So we queued up, perfectly civilly, without hiding the one of us who is particularly short, and in perfect view bought three tickets to I Am Legend, a 15. We then queued up, again, all of us in perfect view, and bought popcorn etc... We then asked for directions from an usher (again in plain view), who directed us to the building next door. We popped next door quite cheerfully, and went passed the two people are the door, who checked each of our tickets individually (i.e. each of us had our own ticket, so the shortest of us was allowed in) and let us pass quite happily. We then asked directions again, and then finally got shown to our seats by the usher. We sat there quite happily for five minutes, and it was only THEN that the manager comes and speaks to the shortest of us:

"How old are you?"

"15"

"You don't look 15, you can't see this movie."

No arguments; no dates of birth; no nothing. Now sure, he's not 15. Just. But there's another guy in our party who's just not 15. But the manager didn't even look twice at the other guy. Just the short guy. Which I guess is logical. But of course, we weren't due home for another 3 hours, so that left us sitting in Costa Coffee for just under two hours. So I'm (understandably) bitter.

What are their reasons for kicking us out? Well, the movie is a fifteen, so legally they're not allowed to let us in. So how did we get in then? It's not like we were smuggling him in in a backpack (although we did contemplate a giant stuffed dog from the fairground outside)! And to be fair, unless there happened to be an inspector calling that day, they wouldn't get in any trouble: we weren't exactly going to complain, being the ones who were there "illegally". So to be honest, all they were doing was rob themselves of custom.

Of course, if they had let us in, I would be here typing out the exact same story, just laughing at how stupid they were to let us in. They gave us a refund and we had fun anyway. But I just thought it might make a good story. I can now see it hasn't. But I've spent about 20 minutes typing it out, so I might as well hit submit now. >_<