Film, TV and Theatre

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The Merchant of Venice: Theatre Challenge Review

Posted on by Farrah Kelly

£50 Theatre Challenge is go!

The morning after posting my Theatre Challenge blog, I spotted a free theatre event at Broadgate London by the London Contemporary Theatre group. Big thanks to Londonist who posted on FaceyB about it, would’ve passed completely below my radar otherwise.

The catch was, in return for free theatre, we’d be sat outdoors. In the middle of October, this wasn’t ideal, and would normally have been enough to put me right off. However, a free theatre event popping up in my newsfeed a day after publicly vowing to go to more theatre was too much of a sign to ignore, so I packed my umbrella and a comfy jumper at set off towards Exchange Square.

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I’m really glad I went. What a show. Seated on the steps, scowling at the people savvy enough to bring along a hot chocolate, the set looked pretty impressive, and the benches were filling out quickly. When the cast came on, you almost forgot you were outdoors, instead transported to a psuedo-Venice to follow Bassanio and pals in his quest for love.

The cast were formidable, with a particular shout out due to Portia, played by Claire Cartwright, who rocked the Shakespeare-sassy-woman to perfection. Even when the weather wasn’t playing ball and actors were exposed to the elements, they improvised and incorporated the weather into their act with such ease that I wouldn’t be surprised if the rain was actually a stage direction.

I did learn that if you’re going to go to outdoor theatre, it’s best to try and coerce someone into going with you. It would’ve been really good to have had someone to watch my bags if I needed to nip to the loo/investigate where everyone else is getting their blankets from. In an indoor theatre, I would’ve been more comfortable leaving my bag on the side, but in this every-man-for-himself seating situation and with any number of criminal types passing by unwatched, I was glued to my spot from the moment I put my tush down, and, alas, hot chocolate-less.

The only criticism I have is a funny one. The thing with The Merchant of Venice is, well, it’s probably the most famous anti-Semitic pieces of literature ever produced. Sure, there’s bits in it that preach acceptance- “Hath not a Jew eyes? If you prick us, do we not bleed?”- but for the most part it’s an uncontested anti-Judaism fest. Which, as an audience member, is fine- in that you can view the play critically with the context of Shakespearean London in mind. As a passer-by, however, hearing some of the more outrageous one liners- “Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnation” might be a bit more than you were expecting on your way home from work.

Out of context shocking one liners aside, as there were only a smattering, it really was a great way to spend a drizzly Thursday evening. My alternative was to head home and scroll through Reddit all evening, and this was definitely more fun.

 

THEATRE CHALLENGE TOT UP: 

  • Price: £0. (Donation £2)
  • Remaining: £48
  • Shows so far: One!
21

The £50 theatre challenge

Posted on by Farrah Kelly

theatre

 I’m going on a mission to see as much theatre in London for £50. 

As is typical of anyone that lives in London, I get that familiar nagging feeling I should do more. You know, see more sights, go on the Eye, meet the Queen. Stuff Londoners are supposed to do.

Thing is, you’re always at risk of letting living in London pass you by. It doesn’t take long for your eyes to glaze over as your bus rolls past Big Ben, for the thrill of jumping through the slamming doors of a tube carriage to wear off. You forget that the rest of the country doesn’t have access to a near unlimited choice of restaurants, that no one else is paying by debit card for a bus journey, that you’re living in a city literally bursting with stuff to see and do and eat. Instead, you put your head down and earphones in.

To combat this weird pseudo-guilt, I’m dedicating £50 of this month’s paycheck to theatre. I’m gonna see as much of it as I can physically (and financially) can fit in. And it’s going to be awesome.

Why theatre? Why £50?

I DO WHAT I WANT THAT’S WHY. Also because I love going to the theatre, and I just haven’t been able to find the time or money to get tickets this last year. There is so much of it in London, and it’s not all £90 tickets for West End musicals. I want to dig out the freebies, the am-dram gems, the Shakespeare and the weird stuff too. I’ve picked £50 because that’s enough to keep it interesting without breaking the bank or restricting myself too much. I’m going to prove that theatre is accessible in London, and that it can be cheap as chips if you know where to go.

The rules:

  1. I have exactly £50 reserved- not a penny more.
  2. I want to see as many shows as possible- I’m not blowing it all on one ticket to see a Jacko impersonator.
  3. If I see a show for free, I will donate £2 to Mousetrap (a children’s theatre charity). This means a maximum possibility of 25 shows.
  4. It has to be a play. This excludes stand-up and cabaret, for instance, but includes musicals, improv and that stuff.
  5. There is no time limit, because sod that.
  6. I can get a ticket from wherever I want, including YPlan, Entry Pass, begging, and winning them at a poker game.
  7. I’mma review every show on the basis of how good it was, whether it was worth the dollar and on whether I’d pay full price for a ticket if it was discounted or free. Also if there were any hot cast members.

The plan

So I’m pretty confident I’ll be able to see upwards of five shows. I’m gonna call it now and say I’ll see 8, though more would be fantastic. The aim is to see at least one West End musical, because they’re the notoriously expensive ones, and for the rest to be as varied as possible.

I’ll try and restrict the ways I find cheap tickets to one per avenue, if that makes sense. I won’t just overdose on YPlan, or only use my under-25 discount five times, because that would be boring and I wouldn’t want to exclude the oldies reading. I’m aiming for one show a week until my funds run out, but don’t hold me to that.

So, there’s nothing more to say now until I actually, well, see a show. So I’ll shut up now and keep you posted. Here’s to the cheap seats!

 

PS: If you want to come with me, please do! I mean, as long as you are in London and don’t plan on stealing all my snacks or feeling me up at the interval, you’re more than welcome to join me. Just let me know and make sure I’ve got you on Facebook/mobile no, and when I find tickets I’ll message out to see if you fancy whatever show I’ve dregded up. 

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Cheap tickets for Matilda the Musical

Posted on by Farrah Kelly

My sister isn’t one for an early start. It runs in the family, for sure, but she’s especially hard to drag out of bed. And on a weekend? Good luck seeing her before lunch time.

So when I set my alarm for 7am on Saturday, I wasn’t expecting her to be be impressed, or even responsive. But the early bird gets the worm, or in this case, the cheap theatre tickets, and I was determined.

Various theatres in London offer cheap tickets for their shows for us cash-stricken 16-25s. The catch is you have to buy them in person from the theatre’s box office, and it’s first-come-first-served. In practice, this means there’s usually a queue forming up to an hour before the doors swing open at 10am, which means no lie in for me or my sister.

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Come 9am, Baby Kelly and I were running through Covent Garden, the Cambridge Theatre sparkling away in the distance. We wanted £5 tickets to see Matilda the Musical, but so did another twenty-odd twenty-somethings who had clearly got up earlier than us. Thankfully, we were in luck. The Cambridge Theatre reserves 16 tickets per show per day for young people, and we secured two matinee tickets without any problem.

I really, really recommend Matilda the Musical. It’s not as dark as the film or book- her parents are comically stupid rather than wilfully neglectful and the Trunchbull is a little bit panto villain rather than a hard nosed, disciplining demon. Understandable, really, as 80% of the audience were under ten years old. A kid’s musical is no place for in depth exploration of the effects on a neglected child’s imagination, amirite?

The show is amazing. It looks gorgeous and has brilliant wit throughout- Tim Minchin hits the sweet spot with lyrics that are the right mix of wink wink in-jokes for the adults and cute and cheeky lyrics for the kids- stand out lyrics including the gem “Ever since the day doc chopped the umbilical cord, It’s been clear there’s no peer for a miracle like me!”.

The choreography is smooth, fast, snappy and exciting. My personal highlight is the School Song, where letters of the alphabet appear shoved through school gates, with dancing pupils swinging from and jumping onto them, tap dancing and just generally having more physical coordination than I can ever dream of. Fast-paced, cheeky and sweet, if you’ve got to entertain some young’uns, it’s perfect, or if you’re just feeling pangs of nostalgia for the “ummway, umway I WOULD LIKE TO REACH OUT MY HAND” song, or for watching children shove giant chocolate cake in their face, then it’s a good day out for you too.

Anyone between 16 and 25 can get tickets- so if you have friends visiting or are going to be in the capital in the morning, it’s well worth getting out of bed for. With tickets for a measly £5 each, you really can’t argue with the early start. Details here.

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The gig nobody went to

Posted on by Farrah Kelly

When I saw three of my favourite poets (I have a top ten, what of it?) tweeting about their upcoming tour, I was pretty psyched. Tim Clare, Mark Grist and Mixy, all in one gig?! Score. Maybe I’d even get to meet them afterwards, and I could detail all the things I loved about various poems of theirs. Anxious the place would be packed and I wouldn’t get a seat in the private room of a Trafalgar Square pub, I emailed ahead and asked if I needed to book tickets.

As it turns out, no. When Jonathan and I rocked up ten minutes late, we were the only people there. Other than the three nervous and embarrassed looking poets, that is.

It was a little awkward. Though I was stoked to get to meet them, the elephant rampaging around the room couldn’t be ignored. I’ve heard of intimate gigs before, but this was something else.

After reassuring the panicked poets that a twosome was a perfectly valid audience, another two couples showed up, to everyone’s relief. Tim Clare apologetically started the night off, and begged us not to feel like this was some sort of bizarre hostage situation.

Clare described his set as “sort of like watching a poet have a breakdown”- with loud couplets ringing in our ears as he bellowed out his Beckett-esque “Death of Charlie Wordsworth” and faux-slurred his way through “Pub Stuntman”. Witty and quick, I have to say my personal highlight was his Women of History rap, video below. I never thought I’d hear a bearded man impersonating Thatcher tell me to “Do your own ironing”…

Mixy, the youngest of the trio, did a set that was surprisingly sweet. I really wish I’d caught his charming ode to insanity- a love letter to Syliva Plath- but he intertwined the preamble and poem so effortlessly that it took me a moment to realise that it had begun. It was a gorgeous and lively account of the relationship he wishes he could have with madness, and if you ever get a chance to hear it, please pay more attention than I did. His letter to Amy, a girl found in chain-nighclub Liquid, is equally as charming.


Mark Grist’s set echoed his past as a teacher, a lyrical school visit. His poems run on nostalgia and humour, with revealing letters to odious history teachers and children’s stories about dirty pirates. Like Mixy, his poem on the soul-crushing chain-club Liquid also got a mention, where he impersonated (all too well) the creepy LAD that graces every Tokyo, Liquid and Tiger doorstep and fondles inebriated girls every weekend. Funny and all-too familiar, Grist closed the show on a high.

As a whole, the show was fantastic. It really was the ultimate cosy gig, and felt more like sitting in someone’s living room than the centre of London. I’d started the evening out feeling kind of sorry for the poets- a free gig in the busiest city in the UK that attracts a grand total of six people must be tough to swallow- but by the end I was pretty smug about the set up.