Journal: Pages
49-50
31
May 2003, Saturday: Oslo - London |
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What
was once considered a mere layover for a long, exhausting trip turned out
to be a lavish coup d'grace. Then again, this is London, one of the most
cosmopolitan metropoli on the planet.
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ACT Productions / A Really
Useful Theatre
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The
fun started as a simple ride on the double-decker bus from the parkside
hotel at Lancaster Gate to the usual West End crowd depots -- the shops
along Oxford Street, the seedy alleys of Soho, the aroma of Chinatown and
the cinemas of Leicester Square. I didn't even want to burden myself with
the camera, having thoroughly soaked my back with perspiration during the
trip from Stansted on this sunny, warm and humid afternoon -- not to
mention the dread of dropping the camera again, or having it snatched
away.
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After
a 15:00 dinner of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding at The Shakespeare's
Head on Carnaby Street -- I had the entire Victorian dining hall above the
pub to myself -- I noticed that one of my most admired thespians, Sir Ian
McKellen, is appearing at the Lyric on Shaftsbury. Forsaking any last
pretense of frugality, I dropped the £34.50 for a very front row seat.
McKellen isn't the only living legend in this
production of August Strindberg's sardonic Dance of Death (adapted
by Richard Greenberg); with him is his longtime colleague, the brilliant
Frances de la Tour. Together with Owen Teale and under the direction of
Sean Mathias, this funny yet sad drama about a destructive marriage of two
spiteful characters practically exiled in a remote Swedish island outpost
has all the existential angst of an early Ingmar Bergman film (even Maja,
a shadowy cloaked figure just short of a scythe of death, was
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New Zealand (November 2004) 73-74 75-76 77-78
79-80 81-82
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