Bright Young Things - Scarlett Thomas

Branching out into books this time, I’ve been reading Bright Young Things by Scarlett Thomas. Originally published in 2001, it’s stuffed full of pop culture references from the nineties / early noughties – some of which I can remember, some of which (namely the video game references) are entirely lost on me.

With not a great deal of action in the story, the book is basically about a group of twenty-somethings sitting around talking about not very much. In each chapter, the focus is on one particular character’s thoughts and perspective. There is no consistent overarching or omniscient narrative, as we spend time with each of the 6 characters and we only ever know what at least one of the characters knows. This means that the central mystery in the book is subject to a lot of speculation but never resolved to a certainty.

I guess this is what Scarlett Thomas means in her preface to this 2012 edition, when she claims that it’s a postmodern novel. Lots of individual perspectives give us lots of stories but no central ‘truth’, and the characters discuss their own predicament with about the same degree of attention they give to discussing Neighbours.

We’ve all been there, I suppose.

The other comparison the author draws in her preface is to the turn of the century reality shows, such as Big Brother and Castaway. Inevitably, seeing a group of characters removed from their own environment and put in a house together on a remote island will conjure up certain associations for those of us who watched TV in 2000. And that the characters argue, pair up, talk rubbish, and worry about their supply of cigarettes, makes it all the more familiar.

This must have been a very zeitgeist-y book at the time. Now, just over a decade later, it definitely feels like it’s from another era. What’s the latest thing? Is there a post-postmodernism? Is there a novel being written now that captures 2013 in the way that Bright Young Things captures the turn of the millennium?

A quick word on the book’s cover, because it’s always fun to analyse a cover. It’s clearly been re-done to resemble the author’s other, later, works and to fit in with their distinctive visual branding. But there are palm trees on the cover, and compass motifs. Did they not read the book? It’s not a desert island the characters are on – in the book they guess at Scotland!

I must admit I was expecting something quite different having only seen the cover – something more Robinson Crusoe-ish, possibly.

And the blurb on the back of the book, too, makes it sound like there’s more plot than there actually is, as if the characters might try to escape rather than just sit around talking. I’m not saying that that’s what the book ought to have been like; just that the cover suggested something different from what was inside.

This is essentially a book about flawed, not always particularly pleasant people talking to each other. And while it sometimes felt too much like a writing exercise in character and perspective, I still found it an engaging read. Not as page-turning as The End of Mr Y, but an interesting time capsule from the turn of the millennium all the same.

As You Like It - Marjanashvili Theatre at Shakespeare's Globe

There were a few things that affected my enjoyment of As You Like It by Georgia’s Marjanashvili Theatre at Shakespeare’s Globe on 7th May. It was a midweek afternoon and there weren’t many people in the audience; I was starting a cold; and there was a rather annoying tall woman who – despite the ample space in the Yard – somehow managed to stand right in the way wherever she moved. (Note to tall people at the Globe: if you choose a space and stick to it then shorter people can arrange themselves around you more easily).

That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy this Georgian language version of As You Like It. I did – it was charming, with some sweet ideas and amusing moments. But I was left with the feeling that I’d have enjoyed it more had it been in English – and this is not something I would have said about the multilingual Venus and Adonis I’d seen a few days previously. (See my Venus and Adonis review here: http://somethinglikereviews.blogspot.co.uk/2013/05/venus-and-adonis-isango-ensemble-at.html).

Without the English scene synopses, and without some prior knowledge of As You Like It, I suspect I would have been rather lost in this production. As it was, there were times – in the wordier scenes – when the company felt the need to distract us by using their framing ‘off-stage’ narrative to provide physical comedy to keep us entertained. Of course this did the trick, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about being distracted from the ‘on-stage’ plot in this way.

As has been discussed recently by Nicholas Hytner, there’s that moment at the beginning of a Shakespeare play when you have no idea what the actors are talking about. Usually, your ear will tune in and you’ll soon be able to more or less follow. And the bits that are trickier to follow – well, that’s where the acting and direction become even more important in conveying meaning.

With these Globe to Globe productions, the visiting companies have this issue throughout their performances, as your ear just doesn’t tune in to a foreign language. Venus and Adonis, I thought, handled it very well. The live music, the choreography, the sharing of roles, even the different languages used – all of these helped to tell the story to the audience without the help of any translation.

But then, maybe it was a simpler story to tell. As You Like It can be a bit confusing even in English – lots of characters, entanglements, cross-dressing – so it’s no wonder that some of the intricacies of the plot got lost here. The emotions of the characters were beautifully conveyed – especially the moments where characters fell in love (the lingering looks, the leaves as confetti, the little ‘ding’ on the triangle) – but the causes and consequences of these emotions were not so clear.

So while there were moments where the story came alive, for me the language was a barrier in a way that it simply wasn’t when watching Venus and Adonis.

As I said, there were a few things that affected my appreciation of this production, and perhaps if I’d seen it on a different day I’d have enjoyed it more. If you had a different experience of seeing this As You Like It, let me know by leaving a comment below, or by contacting me on Twitter @SomethingLike_A.

Doctor Who - Series Finale - BBC1

Beware: Spoilers within!

After all the build-up, the revelation of how Clara came to be the ‘Impossible Girl’ was over in a flash. A simple, satisfying idea, it ended up playing second fiddle to the real 'Big Reveal' of this series finale: John Hurt. As an incarnation of the Doctor who is not worthy of the name. Just in time for the anniversary special in November.

Who saw that coming? Not me.

This was a very dark episode for Saturday teatime – especially for a Saturday that also featured Eurovision on the same channel. I thought I might watch a bit of Eurovision, but I simply couldn’t after this – I needed to turn off the TV and sit in a quiet place and think for a moment.

But what an episode! Full of pathos, some genuine scares, one or two laugh-out-loud moments, and some wonderful nostalgia woven in throughout it all. The idea of the future death of the Doctor was unsettling enough – but a Doctor gone to the dark side? That’s even worse than wondering if Rory was the killer in Broadchurch.

The series leading up to this finale had been a little bit patchy, with some rather inconsistently written characterisation for the new companion marring some otherwise great story ideas - but this last episode made sure all was forgiven.

So, if you’ll excuse a brief moment of geeky speculation: how’s Mr Ollivander / the voice of Merlin’s dragon / that guy from a million other things that aren’t just family-friendly fantasy going to fit in to the Doctor Who timeline? I’m guessing he’ll be the Doctor from the Time War (ie. between Paul McGann and Christopher Eccleston) but who knows?

All I can say for definite is that I’m looking forward to the special in November.

P.S. Did anyone else think the unconscious conference call thing was a bit like The End of Mr Y?

Venus and Adonis - Isango Ensemble at Shakespeare's Globe

I didn’t know much about Venus and Adonis before I went to see it. I knew that it was a poem rather than a play, but while I’d heard the names of Venus and Adonis, I didn’t really know their story.

What I did know was that this South African production had been well-received at last year’s Globe to Globe festival, and that it was one of four international productions that had been invited back this year.

But I didn’t really know what I was going to be seeing when I went along to Shakespeare’s Globe on the afternoon of Saturday 4^th May.

The Isango Ensemble’s Venus and Adonis was performed in six languages (one of which was English). The programme, as they do when you go to see a ballet, included a synopsis of the plot so that the audience could follow what was going on – but actually the company told the story so well on stage that this was hardly needed.

For me, this production was all about the strong women. The role of Venus was passed between the women of the company, with each actress bringing a different quality to the part as Venus tried everything she could to entice Adonis. What’s that Motown song? The one with the line ‘I’m gonna use every trick in the book / I’ll try my best to get you hooked.’ That’s what the multiple manifestations of Venus seemed to be doing.

And while the women had a glorious time taking centre stage, the men made up the ensemble. I know the Globe are somewhat constrained by the parts Shakespeare wrote for women, but I couldn’t help thinking how unusual it was to see women so strongly central to a piece on this stage. And I don’t know if this was deliberate casting or not, but the women were physically more substantial than most of the men too. When Adonis walked through the audience in the Yard shortly before the interval, I was surprised to see that he was not much taller than me (and I’m what’s euphemistically known as ‘petite’).

Overall, this was a joyful production, with traditional African music and dance combining with a European operatic style to unique effect. While full of humour and vitality, there were also parts that were scary (Death, whose eye you were almost afraid to catch), and very moving (Venus’ lament towards the end of the piece). Sometimes the audience in the Yard alongside me was bouncing along to the music; other times it was so still and quiet it felt like everyone was holding their breath at once.

One of the wonderful things about the Globe is the proximity to the performers, and the actors in the Isango Ensemble were unafraid to look the audience right in the eye. I remember seeing Thom Yorke (of Radiohead) perform at a festival once, and he did something similar. When Thom Yorke – or a South African Venus – is singing, and they catch your eye and hold your gaze for a moment, there’s something spell-binding about it. And I think both audiences – at the music festival and at the Globe – had a similar feel, as if we were all under some sort of enchantment.

Adonis may not have fallen for Venus’s charms, but I have a feeling the rest of the Globe did.

Peter and Alice - Michael Grandage Company

When you go to see a play that stars Judi Dench and Ben Whishaw, you’re ready for the acting to be pretty damn good. When the play is about Peter Pan and Alice in Wonderland, and you’ve studied children’s literature at university, you’re aware that the subject matter has the potential to be very compelling indeed.

So this was the position I was in when I went to see Peter and Alice by the Michael Grandage Company at the Noël Coward Theatre on 27^th April. I did not come away feeling disappointed.

This was a play about stories and truth; about memory and fantasy and reality; about childhood and adulthood and what ‘growing up’ means. (This last happens to be what my university dissertation was about. I think the playwright must have read some of the same books as me for research – particularly Jacqueline Rose’s influential The Case of Peter Pan, and possibly works by writers such as James R. Kincaid and Peter Coveney as well).

Early in the play, the real-life prototype for Alice (Judi Dench’s character Alice Liddell Hargreaves) speaks about people’s reaction on meeting her. She talks about the associations that they bring with them, and how meeting her causes them to remember how they were when they first read the book as children. The play itself, of course, does not escape such associations. Many of us these days know Peter and Alice through the filter of Disney; we think we know about J M Barrie because we’ve seen Johnny Depp play him in Finding Neverland.

Above all, we know Peter Pan and Alice as characters. When these fictional characters turn up on stage, they need no introduction. And it seems entirely appropriate that they are the final two on stage, after their real-life counterparts have departed.

Amongst our group, there was some discussion about whether the final two lines of the play, detailing how Alice Liddell Hargreaves and Peter Llewellyn Davies died, were necessary. Hadn’t their contrasting endings been made apparent already? Did the facts of ‘real’ life need to be spelt out, when the ‘fiction’ played out before us had implicitly showed us the truth?

The play was thought-provoking, and we all seemed to take different things away from it. An anti-war message, a celebration of childhood imagination, a sense of melancholy and grief. And especially watching this so soon after the excellent Broadchurch finished – how could we categorise the authors’ relationships with children? Could we? Should we?

I’ll just finish with a little anecdote, which reflects beautifully on the differences between childhood and adulthood, fantasy and reality, as explored in the play.

The day after we went to see Peter and Alice, some of us were talking to a 5 year old child of our acquaintance. The little girl loves Peter Pan and often plays at being Wendy. A few days previously, one of the grown-ups in our group had come across the child dressed up and holding a hook. The grown-up wondered where the 5 year old had found such an item, and, as we were all gathered together now, asked her:

“Where did you get that hook the other day?”

The 5 year old, as if the answer was patently obvious, replied:

“From Captain Hook!”

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Orpheus - Little Bulb Theatre / Battersea Arts Centre

A re-telling of a Greek myth. An evening of gypsy jazz in a Parisian music hall. An afternoon in the Grand Hall of the Battersea Arts Centre.

That’s already quite a lot of layers, without throwing in silent movies, ballet, food, choral music and all sorts of other things too.

I went to see the matinee of Little Bulb Theatre’s production of Orpheus at the Battersea Arts Centre on 20^th April, and came from the London sunshine into a Parisian-style bar/cafe area before reaching the Grand Hall itself.

Like Secret Cinema, this piece of theatre was not going to be confined to the stage or even to the auditorium. Yes, most of the music and acting took place on or near the stage, but the menu of French cuisine being served – and the accompanying wafts of garlic across the room – meant that the audience could not only watch and listen, but also smell, taste and touch the Parisian music hall setting.

We were lucky enough to be shown to a table in the auditorium that was pretty close to the stage. In our cabaret-style seats with our drinks on the table in front of us, it felt almost more like going to a gig in a pub than to the theatre.

In fact, there was a moment after the interval – when the cast were showing off their impressive musicianship in the ‘Musical Interlude’ – that I almost forgot I was at the theatre at all. This was suddenly a gig – a very good one at that – and I’d have happily listened to their gypsy jazz all afternoon.

Except, no I wouldn’t, because then I’d have missed Orpheus.

Perhaps I should explain. The central premise of this production is that Django Reinhardt, the legendary gypsy jazz guitarist, is cast in a Parisian music hall production of Orpheus. So we are told the story of Orpheus and Eurydice as if it is being presented to us by French musicians and performers of the 1930s.

Apart from the music, the story of Orpheus is largely told in silent movie style, with exaggerated mime acting and large captions projected on the stage. Orpheus/Django himself (Dominic Conway) never utters a word throughout the whole piece, using only gesture and guitar to communicate. I heard more than one audience member say that they were reminded of the film ‘The Artist’.

Our Edith Piaf-alike Eurydice (Eugenie Pastor) compères the evening, and the two leads are supported by a cast of actor-musicians who throw ballet parodies, French stereotypes, puppet animals, and some accomplished choral singing in to the mix as well.

Aside from the gypsy jazz (vibrantly played by the whole cast), one of the highlights for me was the mesmerising counter-tenor vocal of Persephone (Tom Penn), which suddenly ramped up the emotional factor and reminded us that we weren’t just here for the jazz.

Lastly, I want to give a mention to the front of house staff at BAC, who were friendly, warm and welcoming, and who really seemed like they were enjoying themselves and enjoying the production.

This wasn’t just a remote piece of theatre on a stage but a living, all-encompassing event.

Something Like Reviews

Something Like Reviews are not quite reviews. But they are something like them.

The intention is not to give ratings or any attempt at objective criticism, but simply to explore our interactions with culture.

Something Like Reviews look at the reference points we bring with us to a piece, and how these references interact with the piece to create an overall experience.

So whether it’s theatre, film, TV, literature, or anything else I come across, Something Like Reviews will encounter each piece in the same, highly subjective, way.

I’d also love to hear about your own experiences of the works I review, so please get in touch and leave your comments!