It's Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about "Red" on the West End, playing until the end of July. 

​Although giving props to white men right about now is the last thing we should be doing, I have to give some (is it a mass noun?) to white male playwright John Logan for being the first person to depict serious art and the modern art world without making me scream from the cringe. (“Sunday in the Park with George” is not about modern art and it is still the best depiction of the artist and the creative process ever to exist in the history of the world.) Whenever I’ve watched stories about self-important artists, fictional or not, or even just gone to a modern art museum (ew and oh no) my main thoughts have been ‘oh my gooooood get over yourself’. The whole ‘I have something to say and this splash of paint thrown against a singed canvas represents that but also progress and our birth’ charade makes my blood boil. Maybe it’s just because artists are so often portrayed in pop culture as pretentious wankers who really believe they have something urgent to say but they really really don’t, like Sky in “Red Oaks” (great under-the-radar show, go watch it). And all of her insufferable artist friends man alive they are the perfect example of this. You just want to Cher in Moonstruck all of them. Anyway before I start ranting even more about all the various portrayals of arrogant, affected artists in movies and TV, let’s talk about this representation of a modern artist that I actually bought into and understood, the play “Red”, about Mark Rothko’s tortured creative process. 
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 Finally, oh dear god finally, we have reached the final overnight train of our 15 week Eurasian sabbatical. And it was a doozy. I guess you can't peter out with a whimper, you gotta go out with a big bada boom. Not only did we have to share the cabin with a crazy lady, but we also had dirty sheets, smoky air, a customs border stop, AND a bogie change! You know how much I love bogie changes! If you don't remember, that's when they replace the wheels to account for changing tracks and it takes forever and the bathrooms are locked during it and it's so loud so you can't sleep through it and it's all just a BIG OLD MESS OF FUN it's not fun. I was just hoping that our destination, Warsaw, Poland, would be worth it, and by (prince) George it really, truly, incredibly was. But still this journey BAH LEW. Let's check in with the little baby laptop. 
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Since I'm a human who lives on this planet, I am in love with the magic combination of chocolate and peanut butter. It is objectively better than any other duo and I will fight any suggestions you may make in the comments. A lot of British people don't understand peanut butter and I think that might be the real reason behind the American Revolution. As an American import, I myself might eat more peanut butter than anyone else in this marmite-eating land. (Marmite and peanut butter are not similar or interchangeable in the least, and the fact that some people still believe this lie causes a good deal of British nose-turning at my fren PB and as a result much of my consternation.) I ran a little bakery market stall on the weekends for a short while and always had peanut butter cookies on offer and people would be like 'ew definitely don't want those' and I would leap from behind the stall and shove the peanut butter cookies down their throats and scream HOW DO YOU LIKE IT NOW MORON? I don't do the stall anymore. ​
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It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about Kathleen Turner’s cabaret show, which is currently on tour around England until May 14. 

​After decades of varied performances on film, stage, and television, Kathleen Turner is finally starting to sing. Or, well, groan melodically. Although I went into her show "Finding My Voice" secretly hoping for a surprise performance of “Viva Las Gaygas”, Kathleen’s cabaret weaving interesting life stories with relevant songs made for an enchanting time at London’s Other Palace Theatre. And enchanting is not the word usually associated with the actress nowadays. She’s gruff and intense, and you could tell that if you tried to make small talk she would tell you to cut the bullshit. She would bark it, really, in that rasping voice that seems to sound more and more like gravel rolling around a barrel in the depths of the ocean as time goes on. This is not a voice you would naturally think of for a musical cabaret, but that’s one of the many reasons why this show works pretty well. 
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​Dearly beloved, we're gathered here to discuss East London's relatively new fancy joint named Plates. I know, it's getting hard to keep up with all the new vegan dishes, stalls, and restaurants in London, with something exciting seemingly popping up on our radar every day. I'm not that hungry guyzzz can we take it down a notch? My husband thinks I'm weird because I prefer cooking my own food or eating salads (and he thinks I'm extra weird because I'm okay with calling just a bowl of lettuce a 'salad' and he says that's not okay that's just lettuce anyone have an opinion on this nope okay moving on). But then on the other hand, well on my other hand right now I have a cut from where I knifed myself while making some of my aforementioned 'own food' which I guess is a point in the column for 'going out more' but ANYWAY, on the other figurative hand, I do want to try everything because as I recently explained to aforementioned husband about why I was forcing him to watch the worst movie ever written, "Sex & the City 2", you can't complain about things you haven't seen. Applied to the topic at hand: you can't recommend things you haven't eaten. The former argument is more my speed because y'all know how much I loves complaining (LOVES IT) but the latter is nice to do too, and although I have some caveats about my recent dinner at Plates, I do recommend trying it for yourself.
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​It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about “The Ferryman”, currently in the West End until May 19. It is transferring to Broadway in the fall so get your tickets!

​I know I tend to be extremely critical of what is in truth fairly decent theatre in London (I take my lead from the basketball coach in “Love & Basketball” (“you think I’d go hoarse for a player with no potential?” = how I live my life)). And while I’ll stand by my affirmation that British musical theatre is in an abysmal state, they do know how to do dramatic plays here. One of the most exciting British playwrights is Jez Butterworth (actual name), and every time he premieres a new play everyone on both sides of the Atlantic goes oh boy in a good way. His play “Jerusalem” won Mark Rylance another Tony and people raved about it even though I have approximately zero idea what was happening on that stage aside from Mark doing a keg stand at one point I think? I skipped Hugh Jackman in “The River” because early reports said he pretty much sits on a log and de-bones a fish for the 2 hours and as fascinating as that shit sounds my attentions were better diverted elsewhere. Luckily, third time appears to be the charm for me and dear old Jez (who I just learned wrote “Spectre” and “Edge of Tomorrow”?? way to get those Hollywood bones Jezzy!) because his newest work “The Ferryman” is astonishing. 
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Arriving in Kyiv (that's the proper way to say Kiev, Ukraine; remember?), I was nervous about the food since my travels as a vegan through other parts of Eastern Europe have been less than thrilling. Luckily, that's all in the past, it seems, because Kyiv's vegan game was off the chizzy! Okay no it isn't off the chizzy - wait till we get to Warsaw and Berlin! THOSE are off the chizzy - but Kyiv at least made a convincing argument that it knows the chizzy exists. It is fully aware of and in close proximity to the chizzy! (Chizzy means chain.) We had a good amount of time to explore the vegan options and traverse the whole range from delicious to disappointing and back again.
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It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about the revival of “Amadeus” at London’s National Theatre, 

​The best theatre, in my opinion, comments on society or humanity in a smart or clever or meaningful way. Sometimes it makes you feel things, and sometimes the thing it makes you feel is anger. I haven’t felt truly angry from a play in a long time, but “Amadeus”, a fascinating, provocative, wonderfully staged revival of the Peter Shaffer classic at the National Theatre, made me so angry I couldn’t talk for hours afterwards. Granted I was angry about other things too (hellooooo cops are terrorists and a traitorous turd cheeto runs America and will any lads EVER care that drinking is illegal on the tube?? Ugh my stomach hurts all the time like Chidi) but this show definitely added to my seething yet impotent rage. And overall I’m glad for it, because theatre should do things like that. The depths of evil that man can sink to are well known today, especially in the political and business realms, but it was nice to see that evil men exist in music too! Evil men everywhere! 
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​​Taking a tour of a disaster zone seems like it maybe would be lower down on the list of must-dos for a tourist visiting a foreign country, but when you are in Ukraine, a visit to Chernobyl is essential. This nuclear disaster from 1986 (actually, from April 25, 1986 so happy(?) anniversary) is something all of us have heard of, but few know the details about how it affected everyday people (in large part because of all the government-imposed secrecy and/or lies (‘ALLEGEDLY’)). Understanding how devastating the catastrophe was to ordinary people is difficult without seeing the damage firsthand. We hear too often about this or that terrible event that occurred here or there but when you’re removed from it, it’s hard to really grasp what happened. Visiting Chernobyl, we learned so much more about not only the disaster but about Ukraine and international politics in general than we could have otherwise. Seeing and experiencing this in person is necessary. And there is so much information about this horrible event still coming to light after years of lies and cover-ups, so a visit now is super interesting, providing a fascinating look into this sad history.
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It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we’re talking about “The Autumn of My Springtime”, at Tbilisi, Georgia’s famed Marionette Theatre.

Well, this is a first! Puppets scare me so I haven’t really sought out puppet shows - or as the fancy people call the fancier kind, ‘marionette theatre’. But a visit to the Rezo Gabriadze Theatre in Tbilisi, Georgia (not that Georgia) (unless you thought of the former-Soviet country (then you’d be right)) is one of the must-dos when visiting that city. I don’t know about you, but when I think marionette show, I think of John Cusack creepy AF in “Being John Malkovich”, a performance that still gives me nightmares because he made Malkovich’s entire life about creepy puppets?? Malko was in the og sunken place! So sad. Or I think of the ‘I got no strings to hold me down’ bit from Pinocchio and that’s equally terrifying so yeah, I’d usually say nah thanks to marionettes with their creepy faces and their creepy small but emotive hands. But now I will first think of Rezo Gabriadze’s surprisingly poignant show “The Autumn of My Springtime” and how wonderful it is. I’m not rushing out to see more scary puppets, but I fully insist that all Tbilisi visitors do.
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