The Laurence Oliver Awards 2006

Laurence Oliver - possibly and arguably our finest thesp in recent memory - gave his name to these awards that they might continue to furnish the glittering West End with award-winning shows and other thesps. THEREFORE THEY SHOULD BE AWARDED ONLY TO THE DESERVING. Yes, I'm referring to YOU, Mr ----- --------- (name disguised to prevent libel). You are a DISGRACE to thespianism, with your pointy eyes and flirtationousness with younger unformed talent. I rest my case.

Oh yes. And Tifton College has been given a Plaque for Services to Craft by Pocks County Council. The officiating ceremony is next Tuesday, if you are in the area.

Theatre is changing (a manifesto)

Okay, I'm sorted (I think those chips helped - thanks, Col) . Sorry about my little sojorn away from bloggerdom, I think it was simply a need for fresh air after the intellectuous rigours of witnessing BLACKPUDDING* a week ago. In the intervening "jours" (a french word meaning, litrally, 'days': hence journal, journey, joury duty, jourst one cornetto, etc etc) I have had time to inwardly cogitate (I don't recommend this if you've been drinking heavily, by the way), and now I have come up with my All New All Fab Shaun Spock Theatre Green Room Manifesto des Arts Practicquel et Magnifique(s)TM

1) Art is a three letter word for a reason
2) Never compromise your Art
3) Theatre is Life
4) Life is Art
5) The artistic imperative is, at once, self-reflective but never narcissississitic**
6) Could I have extra salsa on that***

















And so, in conclusion, I offer you this, by way of a summation:

Be rigorous. Be true. Be artistic.

BUT ABOVE ALL

Be-have.







*thankyou to eagle-eyed blogfan Finty Germaine for pointing out my mistaken use of the 'gap' in the title
** check speling here+
+delete this footnote
***definitely delete this - it is extremely irrelevant and will only irritate my loyal fans

Recovering

I am tired. I fear theatre-going is too intellectuously demanding. My brain needs chips.

Black Pudding: A Masterpiece du Theatre

Oh my God, I can't not believe what a sheer MASTERPIECE (and I use the term correctly) the stunning new West End production of BLACK PUDDING is. It is sheerly and truly a masterpiece of the most purest kind, almost desicatted in its milieu and aspirancy. That fine thesp Robin Allham plays a mid-50s man who lives in what looks like a big white room with lots of rubbish cleverly spread everywhere (take a bow, Eastern European designer Orgula Ngkschtt). Into his sad batty old life comes nymphet and parvenu (note to self, check dictionary) Hattie (played by the skittish actrine Khloe June) . It transpires - in a deliciously dull threnody that occupies the full running time - that they know each other.

A truly fascinating evening's entertainment with a stunning coup-de-fordcortina at the climax, when the walls of the theatre quite litrally rise up, to reveal a totally diffrent set. A final dance de mort as the protagonists punch each other in the gizzards sets the seal for what has been - as I'm sure the crtics will atttest - an awesomely somnambulistical exercise in what I like to call Dead Theatre (a la Peter Brook, my hero).

Go see. Then go see it again. Then and only then - react (inwardly). You won't regret it.