groff, glee

couldn't particularly wait for jonathan groff's character jesse st. james return on glee. jesse compliments rachel berry vocally and his rendition of bohemian rhapsody backed up by the vocal adrenaline dancers and singers was simply grand during the last year's regionals and i'm kind of tired of the rachel-finn storyline. i mean, are they? aren't they? never will be? would he rather be with quinn? aagh!..

saw groff in the flesh during his performance in deathtrap at the west end. he was marvelous. it was a straight play, so no singing on his part. hope he comes back to london again to perform in the theatre or in concert. i wasn't able to procure a ticket for the glee tour in june. it sold out fast and the nose bleed section at the O2 is not for me. plus a glee concert is not my husband's scene. obviously.

rolling

my year in movies is a huge stinker. my year in straight plays, magical. my year in booking GP clinic appointments, pathetic. my year in parties, lunches and dinners, on my terms and standards, great. we will get older next year, i wish for more travel, more savings (how we're going to accomplish that with 20% vat increase and pay increase freeze is deflating). i want to have the december holidays off next year, if some lucky mortals can get away with that, why not me? COYS!

two movies

On Christmas Day we viewed two films featuring Woody Harrelson on Sky. There was the Roland Emmerich epic 2012, doomsday, apocalypse saga CGI-laden with John Cusack and Chiwetel Ejiofur. After the roller coaster adventures of devastating earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and tsunamis, all I could think of was how did I miss Ejiofur's performance as Othello at the Donmar in '07?
I wasn't able to start nor finish Zombieland. Jesse Eisenberg's always channel the cute geek. Emma Stone seems everywhere and Bill Murray has a nice mansion. It reeks of Shaun of the Dead, set in America rather than England.

friday evening at the west end

dinner at Nando's, which has empty tables to our surprise. after that, a short walk towards the Noel Coward Theatre for Deathtrap. it was a fantastic few hours. the play was superb, enjoyed it tremendously.

curtain

after getting swept by the farscape wormhole (a daily occurence) in this utterly cool thursday night, i've decided to conjure happy thoughts like an invigorating bath or reading until i drift off to dreamland. dealing with egos, blood sugars and the rudiments of heavy lifting deflates my weak flesh. to recharge, my huggable babe and i will be in the theatre next week, to catch a straight play. the lure of the curtain call might be a tantalizing prospect. but through the first act, i would, in all likelihood, feel trapped, bursting to escape even before intermission. not even the dazzling presence of an ian mckellen or a kim cattrall could subjugate my visions of escape. but during the hours i was merely 10 feet from mcnulty, i truly had a magnificent time. it was all about the wire.

surreal

Amongst the ladies of Sex and the City , Kim Cattrall and the character she portrays Samantha Jones are my favourites. Except probably for Miranda, I’m exhausted with all the Carrie and Charlotte storylines. Both Samantha and Kim have shown that the way to cool and happiness is not always about the picket fences and the little nippers. Damn those writers who gave Samantha the cancer and escape to LA to be with Smith as TV star plots. Okay, most guys call Samantha Jones slutty, because of her bed choices and prospects. While men who sleep around are called playboys (as Jeanette reminded me yesterday). Well, as I’ve beamed and beholded over the years, men and gossip-mongering women are obsessed with the good girls, the quiet type who sits by the corner, goes to church and reads the bible. But what lurks beneath the good girl images are the sharp tongues of judgments. They bite more than the figure-hugging sound bites.

Anyhow, Kim Cattrall’s forays in the West End are wonderful gigs to all of us fans. Her latest, playing a role at least twenty years younger opposite an actor 18 years her junior is something only the beautiful and highly-talented Ms Cattrall could muster in such elegant fashion. Private Lives, a 1930s comedy of manners by Noel Coward, focuses on a divorced couple reigniting their passion while honeymooning in the same hotel with their new spouses. It’s a completely hilarious play replete with beautiful set decorations. Cattrall’s posh English accent is so credible that I was trying to recall her authentic speaking voice all throughout the hours I was glued in the stalls of Vaudeville Theater. But unlike the movies, where you can watch replays on the movie channels, being part of an audience in a play is like a surreal flash, absorb the performance and the moment, as this is it, the next night’s interpretation wouldn’t be the same ( if we have the money and the time).

voices, actors, visuals

Waiting for Godot is a play that deals with such quaint refrain. Without seeming to be aware of the manipulations behind the scenes, the characters reprise their actions over and over, in what literally like an eternity. Two old, homeless men Waiting for Godot from day in and out. It’s a boring piece of work in these times of reality television, with the screaming arguments and all the swearing. But a stage play could never feel contrived, imprisoned maybe in a stagnant, routinary basis. Nevertheless, for the actors who seek a not so hollowed cave. It’s more fulfilling, more substantial a medium for both the performers and the audience.

As part of the gallery, and this refer to all the plays I have seen in general, I pinch myself once in a while to keep awake. I could drift off but still inhale the voices , the accents, the words, the dialogues, the monologues. Three hours or more of silence in my part. It’s all worth the drill.

10 feet from McNulty

Life is a Dream, the latest production at the Donmar Warehouse, based on the work of Spanish poet Pedro Calderon dela Barca, was a gorgeous experience. Dominic West and the rest of the cast were marvellous. I was maybe drifting off during the long-winded monologues, but staring at West up close in the flesh for paragraphs and paragraphs of lines was beyond surreal. West of course, starred in The Wire for five seasons, which is the best piece of television I’ve seen ever and that includes The Sopranos. West as Segismundo was mesmeric in Life is a Dream. He evolved from a wild prisoner to a tyrannical prince then back to being incarcerated to becoming a revolutionary until his rightful birthright as heir to the throne of Poland, all the while waxing philosophically about the stages in his life. The austere production design and the exceptional lighting bode well with the play’s theme. I get startled by the sounds, but that’s only me acting all wide-eyed and amateurish as part of the audience.

I’m always amazed by the delicacy of theatre as an entertainment commodity. There are no rooms, nor leeways, for mistakes. I wonder if the actors have earpieces for someone to whisper to them just in case they forget a line or their minds go totally blank. There was a time in high school that I was tapped as a stage whisperer. I was like a shadow feeding the actors words. Very lowly. But I guess having a free meal after the performances were well worth the drudgery. Oh, how simple gestures have such lovely appeals in our youth.

huffing and puffing

did i sleep the day away? although the clock's hands are showing quarter to ten in the evening, daylight seem to peek from the window. oh yeah it's summer and no matter how fleeting, i'm glad the sun is back. it has been a such downer with all the grey clouds and inundation for a week. my chores are not done. yet i still want to go back to bed and sit back with a book in hand or acquiesce to my favorite task of watching all the judai-ryan videos.

the tempest is out of the itinerary. it's a version for the nipper kins and with this bipolar weather, open air shakespeare might not be the right path to quench my thirst for straight plays. i'm back to the drawing board in the selection process. i have to pick a stage production that will not burn a hole in the pocket. all i've been clicking so far are either sold out or not to the boss' liking. musicals are out of the question due to western testosteronic perceptions. sometimes i hear colleagues in scrubs mention west end musicals in hallway conversations and i can only listen in earnest. good for them, i don't have that kind of latitude. but i have someone to talk with about sonic youth and hear my laments about disparities of the wealth of nations. au contraire with juno and ms. cody, i don't think sonic youth produces anything akin to noise.

apex

after a beautiful, sunny weekend comes the undulating rain of tuesday. london's forecast in the summer is usually rain, shine or cloudy depending on the weather station report and since this is my favorite season, i will not shut up about the long days. i will write and write and talk and talk.

for the likes of us who were born in the pacific and work long hours in the grey corner of the planet, the long days are the ultimate bliss -- the dazzle of solstice, the sparkle of the sun! concerts, plays galore in the west end and even as far as manchester. due to my languid, listless spirit, i missed out on a doll's house with gillian anderson at the warehouse. early bird catches worm and all that crap permeate the air. truly, truly i'm not an early bird. the only chance i could get near jude law playing hamlet is to read the reviews in the periodicals and peruse the after-party photos in the entertainment pages. at least there's no missing out on vedder and pearl jam or a peek of the tempest at the park which is yet to book. but hope springs eternal and all its attached cliches.

notice board

nothwithstanding all its problems, london is still cool.
of course, the chance of bumping into gwyneth paltrow in budgens is as rare as sitting next to ian mckellen in the tube. but despite that incongruity, pop culture fiends are always aware that even if they're not part of the legions at leicester square during hollywood film premieres, london's theatre scene is one of the best in the world and at odd times a hottie like josh hartnett or even the likes of the excellent judi dench brightens the marquee at the west end. but even without familiar names, the stage is definitely a medium to savor for the sinuous and obsequious observer. but as i navigate the queries from my far east upbringing, some air supply, barry manilow thoughts make me ponder, why are musical plays not directly proportional with authentic western testosterones?

creep

i'm supposed to talk about boxing, the welterweight fight between ricky hatton and floyd mayweather as the topic. however, as it was pay per view, i didn't get to see the action and the five am start time (uk time) did me in. i can't wake up that early and i can't sleep too early either. but it would have been neat to be able to witness two great fighters spar. when is the dela hoya fight?

it's not easy being a sports fan. not a lot of the work colleagues follow sports (who cares who won the last table tennis world championships?) and none of my friends. so i live a pretty lonely existence. when you have no one to share your interests, it's like talking to a wall. but i got used to it over the years. so many extroverted atmospheres are not my scenes. it's probably great to meet new people at parties, but i always have this urge to distance myself from the penetrating gazes of muckrakers.

in another scope of fascination, the london concerts of both foo fighters and radiohead at wembley stadium and victoria park respectively, are sold out. the playdates are in june. but my sweet babe has told me that it's only sold out from their own websites. hopefully there's still hope.

it's also like the west end production of othello with chiwetel ejiofor as othello and ewan macgregor as iago. also sold out. i know i should have watched macgregor in guys and dolls two years ago. or try to sneak into christian slater's gig in swimming with sharks in its remaining run. but who knows something might come up in the next few weeks.

a date with macbeth

it was a rainy night. if hubby and i sat nearer than where we were reserved, we would have been more drenched. in watching plays, shakespeare in particular, it's always a good idea to be a few seats back. remember gary oldman's advice on friends? "actors should enunciate!" meaning, it's not intended, but the enduring efficacy of drool permeates during crescendos, and it did during that wintry shakespearean night.

the play was word by word shakespeare. my upbringing wasn't that crude, but it wasn't high-brow either, i got by, though impatiently. macbeth may not be as long as hamlet. but it was still almost three hours. i got to see patrick stewart act, in the flesh and acquired an even greater admiration for shakespearean actors. those super long monologues. wow!

i couldn't wait to read some more classics. shakespeare is very relevant. macbeth is about murder and greed that the first world inhabitants couldn't comprehend. it's like the renegade soldiers in my country. why do rebels rebel? what do they want to accomplish? it's not about the country or its people, it's for their own selfish pursuits.

west end plays

The Country Wife
Theatre Royal Haymarket
27 September - 12 January
starring : patricia hodge toby stephens david haig
directed by jonathan kent

(toby stephens as rochester in jane eyre)





Present Laughter (noel coward)
National Theatre
25 September - 3 November
starring : alex jennings lisa dillon


Macbeth
Gielgud Theatre
21 September - 01 December
starring : patrick stewart


Swimming with Sharks
Vaudeville Theatre
5 October -- 19 January
starring : christian slater helen baxendale


Glengarry Glen Ross
Apollo Theatre
27 September - 12 January
starring : Jonathan Pryce


Shadowlands
Wyndham's Theatre
3 October -- 15 January
starring : charles dance