UP THERE'S HEAVEN closes early

Some of you will have noticed that I haven't been blogging much this week. I appologize. It has been a difficult time. After a run of barely one week UP THERE'S HEAVEN has closed. An avalonche of negitive press proved too much and the Royal Shrug's management took the executive desision (which after all is their right) to shut the thing down. I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, this Kosovo love story is absolutely cutting-edge theatre (to which we all aspiure): on the other, it's a bore. Especially having to hand endless props to a mute and deaf amputee whom you know is also the star and producer. Harriet thankfully remains oblivious to this sad news and will probably continue to shuffle on to the dark stage long after the last light is switched off.

On top of this, I have just experienced exactly what theatre should never ever be. THE DOCTOR WHO at the world famous Orange Cheese in Surrey, Twickenham. Not only was pouty-faced Christopher Ecclesley not (my italics) in it, also there were no Boliks or Cidermen for him to fight with - and the inexperienced director (a student I regret to say) made the fatal error of staging it in the round, when it was crying out for a promenade production. I had a quiet word with artistic director Wally Grey CBBC afterwards, and he confided that there had been "problems" (sic). Wally is a true maverick and friend (he was the first person to turn down my playlet BRIEF CANDLE), and it is evident that THE DOCTOR WHO (and also, shouldn't that be WHOM?) is entirely not what his octogenarian audience want. There have been many complaints at the lack of a decent interval and that the cast shout too much. I remember Wally's seminalistic production of Urquharquhar's hilarious Restoration comedy HOPE'S CONTAGION at the Cheese (as we call it) many a long moon ago. He has always championed Empty Theatre - indeed he was probably the first - and his cast, entirely dressed in bin-liners for budgetary reasons, coped with Urquharquhar's notoriously taxing rhymes with a wayward, yet occasionally brilliant, abandon. His deliberate neglect of stagecraft is what brought him his CBBC after all. I told Wally I was taking an MFA at Tifton and he said blankly that I must come and assist him at the Cheese one day. I'll drop him a line soon. It is my duty.

Next week I return to the T.A.A.D. This setback has only garnered my loins. Forwards, not back, as our esteemed Prime Minister so rightly says!!!!