Theatres and concert halls are still closed but online fare continues to be plentiful. I enjoyed Yerma and Phèdre from the National Theatre, The Band Played On from The Crucible and Covid Fan Tutti from Finnish National Opera. I was less enchanted by The Picture of Dorian Gray from a clump of theatres, Virtual Vanya from The Lacemarket and War of the Worlds from Arkle.
From Scotland with Love was a documentary film full of fascinating archive material that shows just how much the country and our lives have changed over the last century and how much the spirit remains the same. Well worth a watch and a listen to the superb soundtrack here.
The two works I have enjoyed most in recent weeks were both plays to listen to not watch. Angela, a joint production from The Lyceum, Pitlochry Festival Theatre and others was a delicately written moving story showing the Angela of the title as a vibrant young woman whose later life is afflicted by dementia. It's an autobiographical piece by Mark Ravenhill clearly written with love.
The other was a BBC dramatisation of Anna of the Five Towns. It's a wonderful novel set in the industrial turmoil of the Potteries in which that turmoil is mirrored in Anna's relationship with her tyrannical father and the oppressive religious forces that bear on her. When I lived near the Potteries in the 60s I was a fan of the Victoria Theatre which under Peter Cheeseman produced many excellent plays around local themes. I've no doubt I saw a version of this novel there but the play that sticks in my mind is The Knotty, a musical about the North Staffordshire railway. It's an early example of verbatim theatre and I've just discovered that a recording is to be found on Youtube.
Perhaps the oddest thing that has happened to me since I last posted is that I have been robbed of three prints that hung amongst several others in the corridor outside my flat. One was a framed A4 print of a Jackson Pollock, one was a cheapo cheapo frame containing three Roy Leichtenstein postcards, yes POSTCARDS, and the third I'm ashamed to say I can't remember what it was despite having passed it every time I left or entered the flat for years. A secondhand shop might part with a fiver for the lot if only the few secondhand shops that still exist were not closed by Covid. I must assume they were taken by an impoverished lover of modern art.
The cops came and had a look around and talked to my neighbours but unsurprisingly didn't hold out much hope of recovery. I've filled the spaces they left with even cheaper frames containing photos from old calendars that surely will not tempt anyone.
