The Review of the Year 2010

Oh, what a year it was! I don't think I will ever again have such a packed cultural year, sometimes an event a day. It's been a true pleasure and here are my best of the best:

Venue of the year must be the Barbican. Not every production there is great, but their generous schemes allow to broaden the mind with international theatre and abundance of classical music. And of course, I love the architecture with its mixture of ancient and brutalist.

I must agree with most critics that the National and the Royal Court had superb year with nearly every production on top form and I was lucky enough to catch most of them. Just a few to mention – London Assurance was the funniest play I have ever seen, Laura Wade's Posh explained the roots of the current political establishment, Clybourne Park talked about race like no one before.

The discovery of the year belongs to the National Gallery for it's guided tours – can't get enough of them.

War Horse and Secret Cinema disappointed the most. Secret Cinema is such a great idea, but they outgrew themselves and became a massive disorganised money spinning machine. The puppets at the War Horse were impressive, but the story and everything else is as ordinary as anything in the West End.

In the art galleries I most enjoyed the splendid Treasures from Budapest at the Royal Academy of Arts and Van Doesburg and the International Avant-Garde at the Tate Modern. While I visited my friend Sima in Rome in February, we saw a fantastic retrospective of Caravaggio's work. When she came over to London, we both loved something a bit more modern – a survey of designer Ron Arad's work at the Barbican. 

My books of the year are Ian McEwan's Amsterdam and Colm Toibin's Brooklyn. One Day by Davis Nicholls was charming and funny and sad – a guilty pleasure. 

Week 38

As the festive period is in full swing, not much time left for culture when you have all those parties to attend. Nevertheless, I found some time in my packed diary for the brilliant Les Parents Terribles at the Trafalgar Studios, part of Donmar's West End season. I can't remember the last time I laughed so much. The main lead acted by Francis Barber was fantastic. Barber’s Yvonne is a Parisian bourgeois mother with Oedipal syndrome - her son Mikey is her life. However, he is 22, falls in love and is ready to leave the gypsy caravan, as their home is known. The twist is that father, a failed scientist, had an affair with the same girl. All the secrets and scheming is conducted by Yvonne’s sister, whose precision and love for order contrasts with the mess in everyday life of this family. The playwright Jean Cocteau created Les Parents Terribles in 1938 and borrowed many devices from Chekhov and Molière. Originally the play caused an outrage and even in this modern production the family looks sinful.

Another week, another prize winner book. This week I read Anita Brookner's 1984 Booker prize winner Hotel du Lac. A lyric little story how a woman in her late thirties escapes London to a sleepy Swiss resort and solves her unimportant problems. I appreciated Brookner’s style, but there was so little action and I couldn’t feel sorry for any of the upper middle class characters. Thinking about it, out of all Booker prize winners I read, only a few were great. Mostly the winners are quite mediocre… but maybe it’s just my taste.

Week 37

The winner of the Nobel Literature prize for 2009 is Herta Müller and last week I read one of her books. I never heard of her and the Nobel prize is great to publicise unknown yet brilliant writers. Müller was born in Romania, but spent most of her life in Germany. Even so, her books mostly portrait the grim reality of Nicolae Ceauşescu's regime. The Appointment is not an exception. The book concentrates on a young woman's day while she travels to her appointment with secret police. She was summoned because of sewing notes into the pockets of suits bound for Italy asking recipients to marry her so she could escape the country. The narrative flashes back to her earlier life and little by little we found out about her family, two marriages and friendships. Müller writes like a spider mites its web – unseamlessly the action moves from now and here to the past and memories. The book is a good illustration of people's capability to live with a mad regime. 

After the Royal Festival Hall reopened to the public after £111m refurbishment in 2007 I saw Carmen in there, but it was so long ago and I sat so high up with the gods, I forgot how beautiful it is inside. The hall is very spacious and decorated in white, which looks quite minimalistic and clean. The side walls are covered with wavy balconies which to my eyes are the most elegant circle in London theatres and halls. Thanks to the interior of the hall I had something to concentrate on, as the concert by the Philharmonia Orchestra was rather boring. A safe choice of Schuman's symphony left the public unmoved, although it as very impressive how the conductor Christoph von Dohnányi lead the orchestra without notes – he had it all in his head.

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.