It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about “The Rink”, at the Southwark Playhouse until June 23. 

​​Confirming our long-held belief that the best of London musical theatre happens at Southwark Playhouse, their latest production of “The Rink” is a flawless gem. The 10th venture from theatre gods Kander & Ebb, “The Rink” tells the story of Anna, an Italian-American woman with an estranged daughter, who owns a rundown roller-skating rink on the boardwalk by a changing-for-the-worse seaside. The original 1984 production starred Chita Rivera and Liza Minnelli as the mother and daughter, so if you were alive to witness that you probably died from the experience. It won Chita the Tony, yet was poorly received by critics, especially sourpuss Frank Rich at the failing New York Times. (Fun fact: Director Rob Marshall was a performer in that production.) I can’t imagine how different that production had to have been from the brilliance that’s occurring at the Southwark Playhouse right now, because it may be the best musical production on a London stage right now and I know I can’t compare myself to the New York Times (I don’t support Nazis, for one), this shit’s gonna be a rave. 
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​Woof. And I don’t mean in the adorable doggie way. What a season we’ve had on Broadway this year! To be clear, I’m mostly talking about the musicals; I haven’t seen many plays this year. (Which is a shame, because the plays are a lot better.) But I’ve seen a lot of musicals, and man alive. Only one new musical was actually of the high caliber we expect on Broadway. Sure the others were still better than a lot of musicals on the West End (I will not stop criticizing West End musicals until they learn to live up to their potential), but nowhere close to what we would expect from Broadway professionals who shouldn’t be rushing apparent first drafts of work to the stage. Yet a lot of what is now playing in NYC feels exactly like that: first drafts that no one had the balls to say ‘wait this needs more work’ about before letting it go live and risking millions and millions of dollars. The worst part is that there are no new stories being told: Although our hero of the year, “The Band’s Visit”, feels new and fresh, it is actually derived from an Israeli film. Which is fine and well and good, especially since it’s a little known film so the story isn’t overdone in the least. But its three major competitors are much more well known and the sort where for even one of them you’d be like, that’s a Broadway musical now? but when you have all three together you are the embodiment of the smack-my-head emoji all day err day.
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It's Theatre Thursday! We're talking about "Carousel" at Broadway's Imperial Theatre.

​When the current revival of “Carousel” was announced last year, everyone was beside themselves with excitement. With a cast including Jessie Mueller as Julie Jordan, Joshua Henry as Billy Bigelow, and opera diva Renee Fleming as Nettie Fowler, it ranked among the most incredible Broadway news in recent memory. Finally a phenomenal leading role for Josh Henry! Jessie Mueller never disappoints! Renee f-ing Fleming! This cast singing that wonderful, much-loved score? Hopes were insanely high all across the Broadway community, and of course such expectations could not go unfulfilled, right? I mean, this is “Carousel”, one of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s most beloved works and the musical that many (including Time Magazine in 1999) consider the best of the 20th century. Bring this shit on!, we all thought expectantly. Well, a word in that previous sentence applies to this production more than I ever could have guessed. 
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It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about the new revival of “My Fair Lady” at New York’s Lincoln Center.

​​I always felt that I knew “My Fair Lady” really well, even though I don’t even remember even seeing the movie. But the score is part of mainstream culture and you know the original story if you’re alive/have read mythology/have read Shaw/have read anything really/seen Freddie Prinze Jr. movies – haughty gentleman takes a bet that he can transform a poor, lower class girl into a well-mannered, well-spoken lady who can pass for upper class. Given that the framework here is of a story we’ve seen in one form or another, I expected to enjoy a high quality production but not be blown away. What could they do to make this simple story seem important? Well, a lot. I don’t know what I was thinking, because of course it was another perfect Lincoln Center + Bartlett Sher production of a classic musical, mining every ounce of emotion and intelligence and creating an experience so sublime and emotionally challenging that I’m still thinking about it constantly. I thought I knew “My Fair Lady”, but this production proved that I did not know what it was capable of. It’s one of those theatre events that I feel supremely lucky to have witnessed.  
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It's Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about "Chess" at London's English National Opera, playing until June 2. 

​​You know how Broadway keeps trying to make shows about basketball and they never really take off? Well at least basketball has some action to it. Imagine a show about the most boring game ever. “Chess”, the 1980s musical from ABBA menfolk Benny Andersson and Bjorn Ulvaeus with lyrics from Tim Rice, really truly did that. The music still stands as some of the most famous and mainstream to come out of musical theatre (‘One Night in Bangkok’, anyone?), yet the book veers on ridonk. It’s one of the few shows I prefer to be done in a concert version. Still, I had high expectations for London’s new big production at the English National Opera’s Coliseum, but these expectations were not met. The score was well sung, but the production - both in terms of visuals, sound, and more - did more to hurt the show than help it.​
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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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