Theatre
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Three weeks since my last trip into theatre land. I’ve been gadding in foreign climes, being all la-di-dah and that. And I’m back. And I’m back at the ultimate cat pub, The Kings Arms. Coming in a close second is the Blind Beggar in the East End, synonymous not only with me going on two
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Jesus Christ Superstar indeed. I loved it. Absolutely loved it. Hoping for a more sophisticated, somewhat less basic lead in to a blog post review of my theatrical experience of a production in the Greater Manchester area? I choose childlike exuberance on this occasion. My regular reader will be more than au fait with the
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Frankie never wanted to be a star, and after a chance encounter with a director, she finds herself transported to the ruthless world of Bollywood. As she climbs the sparkling staircase of stardom, Frankie must confront what she is willing to do for fame and fortune. Can she stay in the Bollywood family and still
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Tis a strange thing. Strange but true. I get a frisson of excitement, a soupçon of a thrill, when I enter a theatre space and the set is sparse. There’s no particular science here but it usually equates to good, honest theatre. A statement as broad and sweeping as they come. But there’s nowhere to
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A sweeping state-of-the-nation play that embraces huge political and economic ideas in a magnificent gritty social drama. Nottage’s stunning writing pits friend against friend as social and racial tensions, once buried by a sense of solidarity, soon rise to the surface in this breathtaking drama. Divide and conquer. If it wasn’t for the accents, I
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The 1947 partition of India saw millions uprooted and resulted in unspeakable violence. The partition resulted in the formation of three countries: India, West Pakistan and East Pakistan – now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It would also shape modern Britain. Witnesses to this brutal moment in history live among us, yet the stories of that time
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Years, I’ve been in a state of tension. For many reasons, granted. But akin to a reality TV show fan, nervously scrolling through online forums, terrified to uncover some spoiler from the latest episode before they’ve had chance to catch up (I say all that like that’s also not me), I’ve spent years, years, avoiding
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One of my favourite names for a mocktail (like I ever have one…) is the Bloody Shame at Con Club, Altrincham – the gag being that it’s a Bloody Mary without alcohol… Deviating for a second, my favourite ever name for a tribute band is R We Them…give it a second. Bloody Mary’s (aka Mary
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The boardgame Cluedo had a special place in my family’s hearts growing up. Once I’d got everything I could from Rings on your Fingers, Matching Pairs and Ludo, it was time to graduate to the heady heights of Monopoly and Cluedo. And given my maiden name is Peacock, we of course found it oh so
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I’m sat writing this looking out on Salford Docks. Well strictly speaking Salford Quays. Well strictly speaking, one of the Basins, with all its accoutrements; bridge(s), birds, runners, dog-walkers, lanyard bedecked workers, high-rises… But not the high-rises that one would have come to expect from Salford. A whole different shinier, floor-to-ceiling windowier animal. And yet
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An Imitating the Dog and Leeds Playhouse co-production, directed by Andrew Quick, Pete Brooks and Simon Wainwright, and performed by Georgia-Mae Myers and Nedum Okonyia. A storm gathers outside. In an ordinary home, the lights flicker, a radio crackles, and an extraordinary tale begins. As a couple confront their own fears about impending parenthood, the
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What are you watching at the moment, any recommendations? Television has always been the mainstay of what was known as the ‘watercooler moment’. With the amount of content at our literal fingertips, there’s more to discuss than ever before. It’s the ultimate topic to fill a silence, share a bond and a viewing tip or
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I’m often drawn to starting my blog with a pithy or whimsical anecdote. Not so, this time. I feel inclined to do away with the preamble, the “how does this relate to me”s, the “int Manchester/theatre/art/food/drink (delete as appropriate) great”s of it all. Three couples. Thirty years. Mothers and daughters. Lovers, partners, husbands and wives.
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Nostalgia ain’t what it used to be, goes the old witticism. Last night was pure nostalgia. A knowing nostalgia. A trip back to a 90s televisual treat none of us really expected was coming. But come it did, as Drop the Dead Donkey marks the 30th anniversary (yes 30) with The Reawakening! Starring the original
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New year, and much musing and reviewsing to look forward to for this Honorary Manc. Entering my 24th year as a resident in this beautiful little city, and more in love with it than ever, let’s kick-start 2024 with a dark and dastardly thriller at the theatre. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin… Well
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At the top of the world lives the Snow Queen who is supposed to control the weather.But the seasons aren’t behaving. The world is getting warmer. And it hasn’t snowed for years….Lumi gazes up at the stars and worries about the world. The adults don’t seem to have noticed that the seasons aren’t behaving, or
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I’ve done it. I’ve completed the holy trinity of moving, animal-based theatre. A triptych, if you like, of creature tear-jerkers which, for those who know me, will also know that that is my Everest. It all started with Watership Down, with a stop along the way to Born Free, with frequent accidental visits to Attenborough’s
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I’ve had a rather Shakespearean run over the last few weeks. Bard-heavy, you might say? I say, that with productions of Romeo and Juliet and Falstaff in Manchester (and a quick return visit to Shakespeare country, Stratford-upon-Avon itself), it’s been a joy to immerse myself in texts which are classically brilliant in their origins but
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Fairytales are scary. Wicked stepmothers, witches and wolves at every turn… They teach us important life lessons at an early age. What would you choose? The promise of adventure or the safety of the path? Written by Kevin Dyer, Little Red is a retelling of a fairytale for the age. With any retelling of a
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A fairly frequent visitor to the Lake District and Cotswolds, each time my plus 1 and I are ambling down a country lane, gingerly (me. him- confidently) crossing a stream, roasting ourselves in front of an open fire in an aggressively cosy english pub, we ponder But why, the hecky peck, don’t we relocate and
honorary manc 