Week 36 - Another Year; Treasures from Budapest

I haven't been to cinema for ages, so it was great to watch a movie on a big screen last week, not on our tiny TV. Mike Leigh is one of my favourite directors and his latest feature Another Year has all his trademark attributes. At the centre of the story is Tom and Gerri, a content family of a geologist and councillor living in London suburb and spending weekends in their allotment. Actually, their life seems so idyllic, that it is unreal. Throughout the year various relatives and friends visit their house and most of their lives are grim – much unhappiness, loneliness and overeating. However, for me the friends seemed realistic and human, whereas Tom and Gerry's life was too ordered. The repeated visitor is Gerri's collogue Mary. In her fifties and single, she is putting a brave face and also smiling, but we see that in her friend's home she finds desperately needed company and warmth. The characters are at times too stereotyped and the pace could be slow. It is not the greatest of Leigh's films, but nevertheless, enjoyable. 

Treasures from Budapest at the Royal Academy contains some true jewels from the Hungary's Museum of Fine Arts. When one thinks about cities with immense art collection, Paris, Viena and Berlin come to mind, not the smaller states in Central Europe. How surprising to discover that Budapest has a museum to compete on global art tourism market. The collection was started by Esterhazys dynasty, whose members collected art through centuries and donated it to the nation. In London exhibition we are invited to the tour from 14C religious art to 21C modernists. Raphael's icons, da Vinci drawings, Rembrandt's portraits, impressionists and many unseen paintings by Hungarian artists – they all here. How much more treasures were left in Budapest? 

Week 35

Everything's connected. A few weeks ago I read Omega Point by Don DeLillo, in which a character is a film maker. He mentions a movie entirely filmed in one shot and that caught my interest. The film is Russian Ark directed by Alexander Sokurov and released in 2002. It is a poetic excursion around the Hermitage seen through the eyes of the Traveller. He is accompanied by the European. The couple walk from room to room and meet many of the former palace residents (amongst other Catherine the Great and the last Russian tsar Nicholas II). They encounter not only historical figures but also today's tourists. So not much actions here, but what you get more than enough is preaching to the Russians by the European. It all does look poetic, but to the point of being boring. One is left with the notion that the director first thought of creating a film in a single shot and only then decided on the story. All in all, Russian Ark is an appreciative yet failed attempt to create a milestone in cinematography.

The final scene of the movie has a massive ball with live orchestra. It was great to recognise the conductor as Valery Gergiev from the many LSO concerts seen in the Barbican hall. Everything is connected. 

Week 34 - Novecento; Blasted

Some years ago I lived through an Alessandro Baricco phase, reading most of his translated works. Looking back now, I don't think this Italian writer is that great. Nevertheless, a sensation of nostalgia and excitement rippled through me once I got the tickets to his monologue Novecento at the Trafalgar Studios. Novecento is about a great pianist who was born on a liner to America and never set a foot on terra firma. The storyteller is his friend, a fellow musician who is played by Mark Bonnar. Bonnar pulls off the performance well and the one and a half hour flies by, although at times there is too much details and explanations. 

Disturbing. A perfect word to describe Blasted by Sarah Kane revived at the Hammersmith Lyric. Among other cruelties, there is rape, cannibalism and abuse graphically shown on the stage. But the play is disturbing because it leaves you with a wide range of questions. Some are rather technical – What did the playwright mean? Where is the play set? When? What links the characters? And others are philosophical – What is the point of war? What does it mean to be human? What are the limits of love? The play starts with a man and a teenage girl in a plush hotel room. The next morning we find out that there is a war. Maybe it's in the Balkans (but both characters are clearly British)? The hotel room is blasted by the bomb and the man struggles to survive with a soldier. That is the plot in the nutshell. Confusing and disturbing, but it was an interesting form of escapism. It doesn't have to be all West End and happiness, one can escape to hell to appreciated the reality. 

Also this week saw Shun-Kin by Complicite at the Barbican.

Week 33 - The English Patient; Tribes

My good friend Milda never watches a film adapted from a book she has read and vice versa. I think I will follow this rule myself from now on, as too often the movie is not good enough because the book was so much better. This weekend I watched The English Patient, a 1996 epic showered with Oscars. The film tells the story of a forbidden love between a dessert explorer and his sponsor's wife set in the late 1930s. From time to time the plot jumps forward towards the end of WWII where we see the main character badly burnt and trapped in an Italian villa with a bunch of eccentric housemates (a Canadian nurse, a thief with Cavaraggio as a surname and a Sikh kipper). As they try to find out the identity of the mysterious patient, his memory goes back in time and the love story unfolds. It is all tragic and epic with beautiful dessert shots and fabulous frocks. But I couldn't help to compare the movie with the book, especially as there had been so many changes made in plot and in characterization. The most interesting thing is that I didn't enjoy either, but for different reasons. The book was too poetic and the film too slow. 

Mixed feelings after Tribes at the Royal Court. Yet another middle class Jewish family on stage with their not very relevant problems (for example, the Guardian publishing an interview in Society section). Three adult children are back to live with their writer parents. They sit around the table and all just talk, argue and bicker, which is quite funny to watch. All except one, who is deaf. But he seems to be the most sane among them. He brings his deaf girlfriend home, who gets mildly shocked by the family's rudeness, and finally moves out, as the girlfriend helps to get him a job through the deaf community. That is the first act. The second turns all crazy with random kisses, lots of shouting and cheating. After the first act we compared it to intelligent TV entertainment, whereas after the second 'Where Did It All Go Wrong?' was playing in my head. 

Week 32 - Nearly Ninety; A Week in December

Nearly Ninety was created in the last year of choreographer's Merce Cunningham life before he died in summer 2009. Cunningham is probably the best known American avant garde representative and in his long career he influenced not only the dance world, but a wider culture as well. In his performances dance, music and design all play an equal role on the stage. His last work has all the trademarks of creativity and the name mirrors it (he died nearly ninety). Rigid moves, ballet-like leaps and inorganic relations mix with industrial sounds. I didn't enjoy it but didn't dislike it either – it left an indescribable emotion. 

At the monthly book club we discussed A Week in December by Sebastian Faulks. It is a Dickensian novel set in the current day London tracking the intertwined lives of numerous characters. In fact, there are so many characters with back stories, that not much space was left for the action. It is a true 'state of the nation' novel in to which an immense amount of research went in. The book contains detailed descriptions of how the Tube works, of the financial procedures in banks and hedge funds and drug industry among other things. A major fault, however, is the authors decision to invent new names for the items we take for granted and many places in London – Costa café becomes Café Bravo, MySpace – YourPlace, everyone listens to Girls from Behind, not Girls Aloud, etc. What is the point of it?

Also this week: listened to Baroque arias performed by Europa Galante at the Barbican and visited the magnificent Cadogan Hall where Vanbrugh String Quartet performed Beethoven's string quartets and yet again went to the most educating and inspiring guided tour of the National Gallery (everyday 11.30 or 2.30 – highly recommended!).  

Week 31 - Onassis; Men Should Weep

The life of Aristotle Onassis contains all the elements for a gripping play – a larger than life personality, famous lovers (Maria Callas and Jackie O), glamour and money, tragedy (many members of the family died in plane crashes, etc.) and a thriller twist (did Onassis pay for the assassination of R. Kennedy?). However, the just opened Onassis in the Novello theatre is a flop and a great performance by Robert Lindsay does not save it. Most of the action is narrated by Aristo's friend and business partner Kosta, but one does not want to be told what happened, one wants to see it on the stage. And that together with the flowery language of other characters left me longing for the end.

I will remember Men Should Weep at the National for two reasons – one of a great show and another of the ignorance and, ehem, stupidity of some people. The premise is simple – a very poor Glaswegian family in the 1930s depression, where men are looking for jobs and women are left holding the family together. The main character Maggie struggles to cope with her children's problems, with nosey neighbours and the mess in the flat. But along with all the poverty and hardship, there is hope, humour and a fabulously extravagant stage set. Since the play is set in Glasgow, the accents were really strong and it took a while to fully comprehend. At the interval a woman next to me asked if I am Scottish, because she was amazed I could follow the plot. But the top gag of the evening was being whispered behind me. An overheard conversation by two respected-age English ladies: 'I just don't understand why do they have to speak Scottish. We are in London, so they should speak English or at least have the subtitles'. I could not believe my ears.

Also this week: enjoyed Design for Living at the Old Vic with splendid sets.

Week 30 - The Double Issue

Do you know that special feeling when you start a book and from the first page you are absorbed and know that every page will be fantastic and the more you read the better it gets? You want to get lost in that world, for the book never to end. The book has everything you most value and most enjoy. Oh, that is the best feeling in the world and I haven't experienced it for a long time. But the wait was over last week as Amsterdam by Ian McEwan consumed my total attention for few days. The story is about a true friendship of two men – a composer and a newspaper editor. The author provides a wealth of background information on how things work in an orchestra and a daily's office, which added an enormous amount of pleasure to the clean language and brilliant observations of today's world. I was tired of reading average books and so Amsterdam was pure satisfaction.

One of the last Arthur Miller's play Broken Glass just opened at the Tricycle. It's a fantastic production with brilliant acting, especially by Anthony Sher. He is a respected businessman whose wife's legs suddenly get paralysed after she sees reports of Kristallnacht (this is 1938). As the play goes on, we discover that there might be another reason and not all is good under the calm facade of their marriage. As it is typical to Miller, there is a lot of humour and analysis of being a Jew in his play. But above all, we witness the pain an enormous love can bring to people.

Broken Glass was the best of the five performances I saw last week. The rest were mostly dreadful. Whilst waiting for the end, I fell asleep during Danton's Death at the National. A false blessing that there was no interval – not a long play, but I could have left on the break.

Krapp's Last Tape – allegedly Beckett's masterpiece with Britain's best living actor Micheal Gambon. It was another 50 minutes of torment. The recorded text wasn't very clear and jokes with banana as a penis were just cheap... As the playwright John Osborne rightly suggested – Tape's Last Krapp...

A little better was TEOREMAT from TR Warszawa (I saw their 4.48 Psychosis in March) at the Barbican. A theatrical revamp of the 1960s Italian film Teorema about a stiff family whose ordered daily life is distracted by an exciting stranger turning up at the door one day. The production had smart styling, interesting ideas, bare staging and good acting. However, it was way too long and the poetic moral in the end lost me.

Also this week I disliked Handel's opera Radamisto at the English National Opera. Why? Handel's music isn't my cup of tea, but I gave it a try. It is quite simplistic, the plot in the opera is silly and the decision to put one of the characters into a fat suit totally ruined it for me. I couldn't stand the distracting comical element that the fat suit provided.

All in all, a super busy week, but only few gems. 

Week 29 - Enlightenment; Blood and Gifts

The Hampstead Theatre just started its first season under the new artistic director Edward Hall with Enlightenment written by Shelag Stephenson. This season is meant to turn around the fortunes of the theatre which in the last few years lost it's track (not difficult to do that after grandees like Mike Leigh and Harold Pinter worked in the glory years). And what a weak start Enlightenment is! The story is intriguing enough – Adam has gone missing on his gap year travels, his middle class parents are in agony until he returns with memory loss. It turns out that the returnee is not their son and a pile of lies unfold while we find out what happened to the real Adam. However, it is ruined by flat acting (a wife slaps her husband and he just goes on talking – no reaction at all), clichéd characters (a psychic for humour element, an over enthusiastic and slightly dumb TV producer, a swearing former Labour minister) and fatigued moral message (we are good only when it suits us). Hopefully the season will get better once Mike Leigh comes back to direct Ecstasy in March.

The National yet again did not disappoint. Blood and Gifts by J T Rogers was a perfect political thriller. A young and eager CIA agent is sent to Pakistan to help the Afghans to fight the Soviets in 1981. Through his story the audience get to see the corruption of the Pakistani army chiefs, the humanity of the Soviet ambassador, the British inability in the special relation and the motives of the Afghan war lords. The play explains what happened in the ten years war that exposed the weakness and lead to the ruin of the Soviet Empire. Blood and Gifts is brilliant because we see many allusions to today's fight and the main character's personal story is interlinked with the happenings in the world.

Also this week: finished The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje, enjoyed a super educational and inspiring tour of the National Gallery (daily at 11.30 and 2.30 – can't recommend enough!) and watched a dance performance Monger by Barak Marshall at the Barbican.

Week 28 - War Horse; Or You Could Kiss Me

Before I packed up my suitcases for Malaga's sunshine, a long held dream came true: saw War Horse , a hugely successful play about a boy looking for his beloved horse during WWI. It is produced by the Handspring Puppet Company, who made fantastic puppets of geese, horses and soldiers. The puppets were amazing, but only that long one can admire them, as the story was slow and predictable with dreadful overacting. I found the puppets of humans rather scary.

That leads to another play by the same company, just previewed at the National, Or You Could Kiss Me. It is a story of a gay couple in old age reminiscing of their youth in the 1970s South Africa. in the present, they are bickering at each other, in the past - being shy and afraid even to kiss. However, in the end we do not find out why their relationship is so bitter. The puppets were scary and the puppeteers were particularly distracting. The play was constantly interrupted by the 'story teller', who controlled the plot and acted all supporting roles. As the end approached, I was wondering if there is anything I liked about this play. The answer: not a single thing.

Also this week: The Slap by Christos Tsiolkas divided us the monthly book club - for some it is an engaging society portrait, so other - a predictable unworthy read. Also, indulged myself in the Mediterranean sun and Malaga's old town.

Week 27 - LSO Season Opening Weekend

R.Shchedrin and M.Plisetskaya

My summer was really quiet in the classical music front, so you can imagine my excitement about the London Symphony Orchestra season opening weekend. The principal conductor Valery Gergiev selected Rodion Shchedrin's music as the background for the 2010/11 season and the opening concerts were full of his eclectic music. The atmosphere at the Barbican Hall was charged with anticipation as both concerts were practically sold out. The programme note informed us that the composer is in the audience and we quickly spotted him with his legendary wife – Maya Plisetskaya. She is a super famous Prima ballerina from the Soviet times and I remember as a child seeing her dancing on the television. The fact that this couple were amongst us enjoying the performance made it so much more special.

Anyway, to the actual music. The orchestra was at its best! They played Carmen Suite – a whole opera contrived to an hour long ballet. That was great, as you get the best tunes, only updated (Shchedrin finished it in 1967). After that we could compare the composer's progress, as Denis Matsuev delivered Piano Concerto No 5 from 1999. Not my cup of tea – for me, classical music ends in the seventies... Nevertheless, a standing ovation greeted the humble composer as he came onto the stage. The evening ended with Pictures from an Exhibition, which I wanted to hear for a long time, but only the last movement was memorable (gorgeous is the word).

On Sunday, Concerto for Orchestra No 1 was almost pop music – so jazzy, so catchy. I strongly recommend to check it out on Spotify. And then – an extra long (at least it felt that way) Mahler's Symphony No 5, although first movement caught my emotion with its heavy and grim funereal tread. All in all, the weekend was wonderful and set the tone high for the coming winter with the LSO.

Also this week: watched Shutter Island and loved its soundtrack.