Sondheim

Stephen Sondheim is getting a Special Recognition award later this month at the Laurence Olivier Awards. Last year the maestro turned 80 years old, a birthday that heralded a season of his work at the Donmar Warehouse, plus his very own Prom concert and the publication of the first volume of his "sort of" autobiography. Not bad for a bloke who's not really written much these last ten years or so.

There's not really a problem with Sondheim, truth be told; there can be no doubt that he is a genius, a legend of American Musical Theatre. Whether it's solely the lyrics that he often derides now from earlier shows such as West Side Story or Gypsy, towards the grand masterpieces of Company and Sweeney Todd, it is clear to all that Sondheim is a special kind of composer. His work during the 70s and 80s in particular redefined what contemporary musical theatre was - gone were the fun and frolics of the Golden Age of Broadway; now as the Great White Way found itself seething under corruption and pornography, Sondheim's true visions could be unleashed: the uncertainties of relationships in Company, the mistakes of reminiscing in Follies, the tragedy of vengeance in Todd.

In the 80s, when audiences began to tire of this darkness amidst a growing AIDs crisis and the boom time of Wall Street, Sondheim changed direction again; this time he became more philosophical. Sunday In The Park With George, arguably his second masterpiece after Todd, looked in depth at what it meant to be an artist. Into The Woods is a surprisingly old fashioned twist on old fashioned fairy tales, but works magnificently. Assassins and Passion, his last great works in the 90s, were smaller affairs, and more and more his work has - perhaps sadly - been downgraded into review type shows such as (the admittedly brilliant) Putting It Together.

Give the guy a break, mind - he is 81 this year. It seems a shame that his work seems thoroughly rooted more in the hearts and minds of middle class audiences, the audiences who could afford to go to the theatre at that time, his own background, when the messages within them are so universal. What a great joy it was then that Tim Burton, one of the few great auteur's we have in this time, took on the challenge of bringing Todd to the screen, introducing a whole new age to the brilliant songs, score and bloodcurdling, chilling lyrics. A new production of this epic is set for later this year at Chichister, with Michael Ball and Imelda Staunton set to play the leads. No doubt people will go to see it more because of the film than the original productions, but so much the better; Todd is one of the few film versions of Sondheim's work that hasn't butchered a classic.

His influences are certainly felt today; they run all the way through Rent, for example. Now is the time for a major revival. The sooner, the better. We may not get much more out of him.

The Oscars 2011 - Verdict

As is becoming more and more the case, the Academy Awards this year were full of unsurprising moments, with two exceptions - namely, two of the biggest ones.

Money and safe bets could have been placed on the acting categories. Colin Firth achieved what he should have been awarded last year, Best Actor, for his role in The King's Speech, while The Fighter took home the two Supporting Categories for Christian Bale and Melissa Leo, who brilliantly dropped the f-bomb in her acceptance speech. Another boundary broken, Oscar. Arguably the most satisfying awards were to the three most deserving - Toy Story 3 winning Best Animated Film, Aaron Sorkin winning Best Adapted Screenplay for his fast-paced, witty and wonderful script for The Social Network, and Natalie Portman winning Best Actress for the role of her career in Black Swan.

Considering how David Fincher won the BAFTA for Best Director it was indeed a surprise for Tom Hooper to walk away with the Oscar instead for The King's Speech; the film pulled a double whammy under this writer's feet certainly by beating The Social Network to Best Film, a feat that one didn't think the Americans would go for given the Golden Globe award the latter garnered.

As with last year and The Hurt Locker's success, it seems the Academy is turning more and more to the smaller budget, more independent feeling movies when confronted with more expensive hitters. The reward for the summer blockbusters is usually the more effects-based gongs, and so Inception deservedly walked away with those. Sadly, one feels that it would have had no real look in for the other main categories, especially considering how Christopher Nolan was snubbed with no nomination for Best Director.

Two surprises to end a rather unsurprising night; at the least this year one feels that the right films were being recognised with nominations, and that will be enough to bring them further into the public field. With the more independent fare such as Winter's Bone, this is only and always a good thing.

REVIEW - State Of Play

*** This review may contain spoilers ***


Washington: Up and coming politician Stephen Collins (Ben Affleck) is beginning talks with a major private security company when he is informed of the death of one of his staff. His emotional response threatens to damage not just the talks but also potentially his career and marriage. Meanwhile, his old friend Cal McAffrey (Russell Crowe), a reporter for the Washington Globe, is following the story of a young murdered black boy. It isn't long until the two events are mysteriously linked...

State Of Play started life as a brilliant six-part British television drama created by Paul Abbott who, among other projects, was responsible for Shameless and Clocking Off. It was high-edge, fast-paced and well executed, with an amazing cast including John Simm, David Morrissey and an award-winning Bill Nighy.

What's perhaps most interesting about THIS version is how well it transposes to the big screen without you really missing a lot of that. The storyline, though slightly modified, stays as sharp and tight as it did in the series. Washington looks spectacular as a setting for this, arguably the first big-budget political thriller to be set there since All The President's Men, which this clearly apes in several key moments, most notably the use of the infamous Watergate hotel by the private security company in a sly nod. What the film captures too is the feel of a newspaper at work as well as a newspaper under threat - even when the television series was made the impact of Internet Blogs and such were yet to be fully felt by newspapers. Now there is a real danger for all concerned that soon they will become very much obsolete, fears well portrayed in Helen Mirren's portrayal of the editor.

Sadly, though Mirren is very good, she is not on screen long enough to make the same kind of impact that Nighy was able to make in the original role. Robin Wright, as Collins' wife, is underused too, though this is because the secondary storyline in the series of a relationship between her and Cal is demoted here to a one night stand in the past. Also slightly wasted is Rachel McAdams, playing the role of Della that was played by Kelly MacDonald. Whereas there Della was more of a pro, here she is a newbie, a blogger being introduced to the world of real journalism. Her naivety sometimes grates with the rest of the film.

Much more convincing are Crowe and Affleck; the latter in particular makes up for the dodgy choices he has made film wise in the past and begins his long walk to triumph with a very fine performance. Crowe too shows us the same kind of dogged determination that he did in his brilliant performance in LA Confidential, though more world-weary. The supporting cast do well, although Jeff Daniels is relegated to a rather 2D politician; in particular Jason Bateman is very impressive as a slimy rich good-for-nothing who ends up involved in the case.

What is great about the film is that, for the most part, it can stand up on its own next to it's television cousin. Sadly, it just comes a little short to the expectations you might have for it based on its relative. Perhaps better to watch if you have never seen the show before.

7/10

The Brit Awards 2011

Awards season is well and truly upon us now - both the BAFTAs and the Grammys were on Sunday with few surprises, save how old Christopher Lee suddenly looks. Last night it was the turn of the BRITs. this year they had been revamped - new home (the O2 Arena), new look.

It would be fair to say that those who won awards did so because they earned them. Though the xx's brilliant Mercury-Prize winning album, XX, failed to pick up any gongs, Mumford & Sons were worthy enough winners of Album Of The Year. The Outstanding Contribution award has been ditched by the organisers, making this award now the most coveted of the evening. It had a nice twist to it, but when Roger Daltrey arrived to announce the winner of this award, you couldn't help but feel a pang of regret that we wouldn't see a classic star take to the stage and sing in celebration over their life's work for a few minutes.

Why the hell Justin Bieber was able to walk away with an award remains a mystery, and the proof that the BRITs mean business came in the announcement of several prizes for Arcade Fire, a band who would perhaps not even be nominated for something like an MTV Award, which always come from the people.

On the whole, this revamped BRITs was all about the music - stunning performances from Adele, Plan B and Tinnie Tempah, and an emotional speech from the voice of the new wave, Jessie J. Not bad - could be better.

On Your Own

A friend of mine recently went to watch a matinee performance of Wicked at the Apollo Victoria Theatre, London; front row, Dress Circle. Nothing wrong with that, you may say - after all, Wicked is one of the few musicals of the first decade of the 21st century that seems to be standing the test of time, and good on it, with an interesting twisted script, some absolute belters to sing out loud, and a real family feel that one may not have felt could be made with a show since the glory days of Cats and (whisper it) Joseph.

But he went on his own. All on his todd. And he loved every minute of it.

This is not to say that this is wrong in any shape or form. Theatre is so important, such a vital, enjoyable form of entertainment, that if someone wants to go see a play/musical on their own then why stop them? But then why was I surprised to hear him say this? Why am I reluctant to go to a show I really want to see if nobody else is particularly interested?

It's the same with the cinema. I have rarely gone to see a film without being with a minimum of one other person. The only worthy instance was The Dark Knight, the day that it was released in cinemas - but then I was supposed to have gone to see it with a friend who suddenly became unavailable. My need to see the film was so great that I actually decided to go and see it anyway. Obviously I wasn't alone in the cinema - but I was surrounded by couples and groups of people.

Is there some kind of embarrassment factor when we go to a Box Office of a theatre/cinema and ask for a ticket for one? Do we hear the silent laughter in their minds, see the silent mockery in their eyes when they hand us that solitary piece of card? They're happy for the business you have provided for them, but that perhaps doesn't stop your appearing to them as a Billy No mates character.

This is possibly a lot of personal paranoia. At the end of the day there are plenty of people who go to the cinema/theatre on their own. But I honestly believe that these establishments are so much more than that; their very purpose, very design is to bring people together in one unifying act, either film or play, to entertain and to educate. it's a social experience - we love to talk to them before and after the film, or in the interval, to get their first-hand impressions, their opinions. We love to agree or disagree with them. We love to laugh together, we love to sing along together and we love to cry together.

Society needs these institutions. They have become the new pub, the new working man's club. Sadly prices do nothing to help their cause, but then a trip to one of them becomes more of an event, of a day/night out, something to truly remember. If you want to go on your own then absolutely fine - enjoy it, embrace it. Personally, unless anyone else is free, I'm more than happy to wait until the DVD comes out.

The Electric Proms - RIP

So after five moderately successful years, the BBC has decided to end the series of concerts dubbed the Electric Proms. These were usually an eclectic mixture of old and new artists, with the majority of the performances taking place at the magnificent Roundhouse in London.

One could possibly have seen the signs that things were looking bad for the Electric Proms last year; only three artists took part - Elton John, Robert Plant and Neil Diamond - all with new albums to plug. Gone were the glory days of The Who, Shirley Bassey or even (god help us) Oasis. It didn't matter who it was; their performances on this stage were always electrifying. No pun intended.

These concerts also gave the artists the opportunity to work with groups they wouldn't normally have done so in your average, run-of-the-mill concert, working with orchestras or choirs, or sometimes both (steady now). Sadly, even these twists were lacking last time around.

The head of Radio 2, who championed the concerts, said that there was a better, more cost efficient way of staging these shows. Sadly, it has all come down to money once again. The Electric Proms haven't been with us long enough to invoke an uproar of anguish from the public over their cancellation, something that would no doubt happen if the Proms were given the same fate. It is merely sad, and hopefully something can be created out of their ashes.

John Barry - 1933-2011

John Barry made James Bond recognisable. Though legally he was never credited with writing the famous tune for one of the longest running film franchises in history, his arrangement of it for the first film, Dr.No, was to literally bring the character to life in our imaginations whenever we hear it. Like the spy himself the tune is sexy, brooding, fast, dangerous.

All in all, Barry composed the scores for 11 of the films in the series. Not all of them were masterpieces, though it is fair to say that the weakest of the films have the weakest of the scores - perhaps there is something to be said about inspiration for a film composer if the film he is composing for isn't all that good. Yet the ones that stand out are the true classics, the giants of film scores: the urgent brass of Goldfinger, the romantic, lush strings of You Only Live Twice, the sense of something new in On Her Majesty's Secret Service.

Of course, Barry didn't just work on Bond films. His haunting themes for Out Of Africa or Midnight Cowboy brilliantly sum up the moods and plots of the respective features. His last Oscar winner, Dances With Wolves, was possibly the one Oscar that the film genuinely deserved to win.

His influences are felt all over the place - his true successor, David Arnold, certainly encapsulates the Barry feel to his Bond scores. It was a shame that he could not have worked on another one, and, though exciting enough the Michael Giacchinho score is, the rumoured score that Barry could have written for The Incredibles would have given the film a lot more class.