Naked Farmer for April 2009

It's a week late, but I keep losing interest in everything, including my blog. Which is a shame since this month's farmer is very pretty.

RIP Andy Hallett

Now this is very sad. At the age of 33, slightly younger than this blogger, Andy Hallett has died of heart failure. He had been fighting heart disease for five years and he lost that battle on Sunday night.

He will always be best known as Lorne on Angel and he was frequently the best thing about many episodes. He was also my most favourite character in the show. I had no idea he was even ill, so to read of his passing this morning was a very unpleasant surprise.

PCB's Quarterly Theatre round up

I have seen several shows this year already and not blogged about them so I thought I'd split it into quarters, since we're almost into April.

Twelfth Night

The first Shakespeare of the Donmar's West End season and it was greeted with reviews slightly more muted than those that greeted the season opener, Ivanov. Only slightly though, and given the flat out raves that greeted said production, I think Night can hold its head up high.

I have to say, I flat out loved it. I have seen it before of course, at the Donmar's off-West End home as part of Sam Mendes' farewell shows. It must be somewhat galling for him to see the same theatre produce a better cast, infinitely warmer and richer, not to mention much much funnier version. Derek Jacobi is of course incredible as Malvolio, but there's not a weak link in the cast. I was surprised by Indira Varma, who was just glorious, showing a comic timing I was not expecting of her. However, in my opinion, the show was stolen by Zubin Varla's singing, percussive, cartwheeling performance. He was outstanding and yet he was barely mentioned in any of the reviews. WhatEVER!

Be Near Me

The actual Donmar Warehouse is easily my favourite theatre in the world. Not only is it the most gorgeous space but they have produced some of the most compelling shows around in the last decade. To usher in 2009 with this is something of an oddity. An adaptation of Andrew O'Hagan's book (which I found too dull to bother finishing) about a gay priest and the friendship he strikes up with two wayward teens which inevitably goes awry, it doesn't immediately scream "stage me!"

However, in the hands of Ian McDiarmid, who adapts as well as stars in the lead role of Father David, and John Tiffany, who directs, they turn what could have been a dull, predictable and preachy couple of hours into a fluidly directed, beautifully acted and heart rendingly tender play. Special mention to Richard Madden as Mark, the teenaged catalyst for Anderton's downfall, who was, I thought, fabulous. And I'm not just saying it because he's pretty. He will, I'm sure, go on to have quite a career.

Private Lives

The Hampstead Theatre staged this revival to mark their 50th anniversary, as its premiere there was their first big success. Normally I wouldn't have bothered with this but heading the cast as Amanda was Claire Price, for whom I would walk over broken glass to see on stage. I had never laid eyes on her before November of last year when I saw her in a revival of The White Devil and I was absolutely transfixed.

The ticket was a birthday present from a good friend who came along for the show too and it was wonderful. Funny, stylish, very well directed and acted (tellingly, a dialogue free moment between the two sparring lovers managed to evoke laughs from the audience), it was a frothy delight and the new Hampstead Theatre is absolutely gorgeous to boot.

Duet For One

A two hander about a celebrated concert violinist struck down in her prime by multiple sclerosis starts regular visits to a psychiatrist to help her overcome the shock and to readjust to her life without being able to play. Doesn't sound fun does it? And indeed, it's not, though I found it riveting from start to finish.

The violinist is played by Juliet Stevenson, initially stoic and good humoured about the rotten hand life has suddenly dealt her. Henry Goodman takes on the psychiatrist role with a cod Jewish accent (necessary since it's referenced in the text) who slowly chips away at her bravado exterior. There is a great deal of humour in the early scenes that gives way to anger and then of course there's the breakthrough. Or in this case, breakdown. Has everyone here seen Truly Madly Deeply? Specifically the opening weepathon from Ms Stevenson to her psychiatrist? Well, she had a similar scene at the end of Act One here, as she bewails having to listen to godwawful students and her lesser talented husband all day and she can't play herself. It's an absolutely devastating moment that left the audience somewhat shellshocked for the interval. That Act Two's big breakthrough came without any emotion, but a calm and collected delivery of her revelatory monologue was something of a relief. This is about to transfer for a limited run and for Stevenson alone, it's worth seeing.

Little Shop Of Horrors

Having missed the Menier run and its West End transfer, I caught the tour of Little Shop when it came to my neck of the woods. Damian Humbley (who made a magnificent Jamie in the Menier's production of Last Five Years) was again top notch as Seymour. Clive Rowe was a full throated Audrey II and Alex Ferns was surprisingly brilliant as Orin Scrivello, returning to play all the agents vying for Seymour's attention in "The Meek Shall Inherit". The urchins were also fantastic singers, though their acting was a little, uh, amateurish.

But that is where the plaudits have to end. Claire Buckfield was not a good Audrey, lacking the vocal power to effectively transition in "Suddenly, Seymour" (her mic was just turned up really loud instead). Sylvester McCoy was hopelessly adrift as Mr Mushnik. Shame. I still enjoyed the camp ridiculousness of it all and I will never tire of a majority of the show's songs, but I was left with the nagging feeling that this could have been better.

A Little Night Music

I was initially resistant to the idea of seeing this show, due to the casting. I can't tolerate Maureen Lipman and Hannah Waddingham can be very hit and miss. But then the reviews were through the roof amazing, and I figured "what the hell?"

Well how happy am I that I threw caution to the wind and got a ticket as it was the most glorious three hours I've spent in a theatre. The cast were all exceptional (with the exception of Jessie Buckley who was woefully out of her depth as Anne) and this production mined more comedy out of the script than anybody would have thought possible. I loved it, I laughed, I was moved to tears and since seeing it, I have been unable to stop listening to the cast recording featuring Judi Dench as Desiree. It's a little telling that on that recording, Joanna Riding plays Anne and her excited squeal of "it's at a chateau!" at the start of "A Weekend In The Country" packs more character info than Jessie Buckley manages over an entire performance. It has now started its West End transfer and I will be seeing it again, at least once, hopefully more.

A View From The Bridge

I love me some Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio. I think she's massively underrated and never really had the high profile career she deserves. She shows up on the London stage every now and again (she was splendid in the Donmar's revival of Grand Hotel in 2004-2005) and she's back, with Ken Stott and Hayley Atwell in Arthur Miller's tragedy.

One asks, did Miller really ever write anything but? It's not as though you could play The Crucible or Death of a Salesman for laughs, is it? And Bridge is hardly brimming with feelgood charm and in a little over two hours, manages to bring the audience, dooby doo down down. It's supremely well acted, if a little clunkily staged and directed, and though set in the 50's, the themes of the play are still relevant to today, in some ways. While it's not something you could ever say was entertaining, it was definitely worthwhile viewing.

Three Days Of Rain

An actor's play if ever there was one. A three hander where Act One is set in the present day and Act Two has the actors playing their character's parents from Act One, it requires two completely different performances from each of them. In the hands of James McAvoy, Nigel Harman and Lyndsey Marshall, that element is a qualified success.

As is, in my opinion, the play itself. I never really got the sense that the pay off was worthy of the build up. It was all very beautiful and very subtle but I don't know, I just wanted more. Walker Janeway and his sister meet in an abandoned New York loft after the death of their renowned architect father. They're joined by childhood friend Theo and the settling of the estate and a discovery of a journal, which Walker finds maddening in its brevity causes things to unravel, particularly when he focuses on the entry that is merely the play's title and nothing more.

Act Two reveals what happened during the titular three days and the most striking volte face, performance wise, is McAvoy. Walker is hyperactive, slightly crazy, possibly gay and very angry. Walker's father Ned is shy, quiet and has a stutter. The fallout of the three days is something only the audience can appreciate as we know what their kids think happened, so witnessing the actuality is very bittersweet. Richard Greenberg is a very good playwright and this structure is a fascinating idea but it clips the bullseye rather than going dead centre.

Plague Over England

What a weird play. Written by a critic, for the love of God. Ostensibly about John Gielgud and his arrest for cottaging when he was at the height of his fame, it also tries to cram in about 5 other storylines with the majority of the cast playing multiple roles to add to the confusion.

It's very rushed, as people come bustling on, say about nine words and then it's the next scene. At one point, two scenes play out simultaneously for no good reason. The extremely odd and hallucinatory ending fails to tie everything up satisfactorily. How this was a good idea that deserved a West End run, I cannot fathom.

Waiting For Godot

And speaking of things I cannot fathom, Samuel Beckett. I've somehow gone 34 years without ever watching a Beckett play and in all honesty, if this one hadn't starred Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart, I would easily have made it many more years without seeing a Beckett play.

I don't get it. I don't get him and I certainly don't get how precious he and now his estate are over the staging of his plays (you have to sign a contract stipulating you won't deviate one iota from the text and the stage directions). Godot was two and a half hours of blank nonsense that in less talented hands would have been a disaster. That McKellen and Stewart, along with Simon Callow in full on Brian Blessed mode and Ronald Pickup, made this even slightly entertaining is testament to their inordinate talent. Currently on a pre-West End tour, it's playing to capacity houses of rapturous audiences but I very much doubt ANYONE was cheering the choice of material.


Already booked in for the next three months:

New Boy with Nicholas Hoult
The Fever with Claire Higgins
Madame De Sade with Judi Dench, Rosamund Pike, Frances Barber and Deborah Findlay
Dimetos with Jonathan Pryce and Anne Reid
A Doll's House with Gillian Anderson, Christopher Ecclestone, Toby Stephens and Tara Fitzgerald.

Hot Guy Monday: Tahmoh Penikett

Since last Friday marked not only the end of Battlestar Galactica but also Dollhouse finally kicking into high gear, today's hot guy is Helo himself, Tahmoh Penikett.

Battlestar is one of the finest shows to have graced television in recent times. Buried on the Sci Fi Channel and dismissed by a lot of people, it transcended the genre with some impeccable writing, direction and performances (James Callis' performance as Baltar is quite possibly the most finely rendered and perfectly pitched piece of acting as to have ever been on television). The last ever episode was not perfect but it was absolutely astonishing all the same and I was moved to tears on more than one occasion (to come back to Callis again, his "I know about farming" line gutted me like a fish). Now that it's over, I want to watch it all again.

As for Dollhouse, five weeks of tonal uncertainty and poor plotting finally gave way to a multitude of twists and turns that was insanely exciting and ensured I'll watch the show to the end of the season. Plus, Tahmoh was shirtless a lot.

RIP Natasha Richardson

You know how sometimes you hear a news report about a celebrity injury and think "oh they'll get better"? The reports about Richardson's skiing accident were so inconsistent that throughout the two days I kept expecting her to appear on TV and say "oh for heaven's sake people, I'm fine!"

But no. She died last night and it's so shocking and sad. She was young, she was fiercely talented and she leaves behind a grieving husband and two teenage sons. I saw her on stage twice (once in Closer, once in Streetcar) but the role for which she will always be remembered is Sally Bowles in the Broadway revival of Cabaret. I didn't get to see her in the role (she'd left the production the weekend before my first ever trip to NYC), I have the cast recording and her performance of the songs on there is so new, so unexpected and to be quite honest, so pitch perfect that to have just her take on the title number as her sole legacy would be a huge achievement.

However, it's just one entry in a distinguished career and it really underlines how tragic her early unexpected death is. In addition to the talent, Richardson also possessed something sadly lacking in a lot of today's stars: class. She was supremely classy and I've never forgotten how sweet and funny she was at the stage door for Closer, even with fans more interested in talking to her about her husband. She will be missed.

Hot Guy Monday: Returning with............

Something a little left of centre. I've been watching and enjoying the new Fox show Lie To Me, and it's given me a new TV boyfriend. Brendan Hines. He's adorable on the show and he's just plain gorgeous to look at too. But the main selling point? His hair. Sweet Christ I just love his hair. It's the kind of unruly mop that he probably hates but it gives me full on Hair Envy. Feast your eyes:

PCB is now 34

So I hit 34 years of age on Monday. I'm really not sure how that happened. Isn't there a saying about how life is what happens when you're looking the other way? I do really feel like my life is being lived without me at the moment. Wow, 2009 is really shaping up to be a champion year isn't it?

In all seriousness, since the Canadian debacle, I have been doing a lot of soul searching about what I really want to do with my life and where I want to go and I am in the process of making some really tough decisions. The first decision is to move back to London. That's made, but the logistics, the finances and many other little obstacles need to be ironed out and overcome, so it's a good thing I won't be going for at least another 10 months. Thanks to the recession, there is not a great deal of point in going any sooner anyway as there are no jobs to go to up there. There possibly won't be in 10 months time, so we'll have to see.

Since the Canadian decision, I haven't really been sleeping properly either. I've been waking up around 5am every single morning and been unable to get back to sleep. Hence I'm writing this entry at 6:40am. Fun. I need to do something about this though as it's really starting to get to me and I lost my temper with a co-worker yesterday as I was just too tired to keep my annoyance in check. Ooops.

Since I don't want my blog to become a complete downer, I'll try and make the next entries more fun, promise.

Naked Farmer for March 2009

I've been massively neglectful of my blog since the start of 2009. I just don't feel like I'm doing stuff interesting enough to blog about. Or maybe it's that I am doing interesting stuff, I just can't muster the energy to blog about it. I've been very blue since the whole Canada farrago and with a birthday on the horizon to remind me I ain't getting any younger, I've apparently descended into a state of bleh. So here's some naked farmer to take my mind off it.

The 2009 disappointments continue

Though on a smaller scale than being denied my Canadian Visa. So far:

Friday 13th.

Yes, I know it seems unlikely that I would be disappointed over this remake. But I am. See, Marcus Nispel directed the Texas Chainsaw remake, which I loved and was terrified by. So I had high hopes that he would take the reins of this franchise reboot and deliver another nerve jangling treat. No such luck. I love love love the original so for me, alarm bells began to ring when a horribly edited opening credits sequence showed a Crystal Lake camp counsellor offing Mrs Vorhees right after she's given all the exposition required. Everybody knows the true joy of the original is Betsy Palmer's delicious turn as the batshit crazy mother of Jason when she's revealed as the killer. I can't believe they didn't get someone like Jessica Lange to ham it up as the deranged slasher this time around. For shame.

So anyway, it fast forwards to the present day and after a bunch of nobodys get offed by Jason, the action swings to another bunch of worthless cretins you will recognise from TV shows past and present as well as films with (for God's sake) Shia LaBoeuf. The great thing is, Nispel and the writers make the rookie mistake of having each of them be vastly irritating to the point where you're actively rooting for Jason to kill them, just so you don't have to listen to them anymore. Jared Padalecki is the hero of the piece, the loner outsider searching for his missing sister (she was one of the nobodys in the first bunch and because she looks a little bit like his mother, Jason has not killed her, he's keeping her in the basement. Whatthefuckever.) So when the people you don't care about have all been picked off in a variety of bloody ways (usually after they've had sex or been unnecessarily naked, of course), we're left with Padalecki and his sister to bring down Jason.

There is not one single good thing about this film. Not one. The writing is terrible, the acting embarrassing, the direction ham fisted. There's no sense of menace, there's no sense of horror or fear, it even fumbles the cheap shock, make you jump moments. It is, in a word, shit. And what is so frustrating is it could have been fantastic. In more capable hands, this could have been the horror franchise reboot the fans have been waiting for. But no, instead it's an unholy mess and I just hope the sequel baiting ending doesn't come to pass.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Yeah, make that The Tedious Case and you have a title closer to my opinion of the movie. Wow it was long and boring. I genuinely don't understand the hype and awards buzz around this one. It was pleasant enough to watch but it was kind of like a Chinese takeaway. I didn't really notice it at the time and I'd forgotten it about 20 minutes later. I wanted to love it as I love Cate Blanchett, I love Tilda Swinton and who doesn't love Brad? But it left me cold and it left me more than a little bored too. And I found the Katrina framing of the piece very heavy handed. Shame.

Heroes

It is becoming more and more apparent that the writers and creators of this show didn't expect to be a hit and therefore never thought beyond their first season. The second, strike interrupted, season was hated by pretty much everyone and the efforts to atone for that in the third season saw the show become increasingly fractured, misguided, overstuffed and underwhelming. The third season has two books, the first book, "Villains" failed on just about every level and if you want evidence, check out the two part episode "The Eclipse" which was trumpeted as a key and important episode but was instead everyone wandering around without powers for two episodes while absolutely nothing happened.

Book Four, "Fugitives", is only two episodes in and I already hate it. There are still too many characters splitting the focus and not enough of them are interesting enough for me to care about anymore (in fact, only the extended Petrelli family in the main storyline are worth bothering with). The ONLY thing worth watching the show for now is Sylar and his increasingly fascinating arc. It's like his scenes wandered in from a different show altogether, the level of writing and acting in them is so far removed from the dross of the rest of the show.

TV Remote (lack of) Control

I blogged before about how discovering the joy of downloading TV shows and being able to hook up my laptop to the huge TV in the lounge has freed me from the tyranny of the UK scheduling, where everything is on a Thursday at 9pm, or a Sunday at 10pm. Apparently no other time slots exist. Even so, I'm watching a whole hell of a lot of shows right now. From the earlier TV post, some shows have fallen by the wayside but I've picked up several others. The current schedule looks like this:

Sunday

United States Of Tara

Monday

24
Big Bang Theory
Chuck
The Closer
Heroes
Gossip Girl
Medium
Trust Me

Tuesday

The Mentalist
Nip/Tuck
Rescue Me (starting March 10th)
Reaper (starting March 17th)

Wednesday

Damages
Lie To Me
Lost

Thursday

Bones
Supernatural
Ugly Betty

Friday

Battlestar Galactica
Dollhouse (starting February 13th)

For those keeping count, by the time the three shows yet to start are running, I'll be juggling some 21 shows. Not sure I wholly agree with EW that TV's recent golden age is over just yet.

Naked Farmer for February 2009

Wow it's already February. And since 2009 got off to such a sucky suckass beginning and it is currently snowing fit to beat the band, here's a little something to bring the sunshine in.

Oh good, 2009 sucks too!

Less than one month into 2009 and it's sucking harder than 2008. How is this possible? Well, see, early last year I filed an application for permanent residency in Canada. It takes years to process so I didn't bother mentioning it on here as it wasn't terribly interesting at the time. In November of 2008, the Canadian government changed how many professions were eligible to file for the permanent residency visa, reducing it from hundreds to just 38. Mine was not one of the remaining 38, so when the government then retroactively applied the change to all applications filed in 2008, mine was rejected.

Cocksucker motherfucker. And of course, despite the fact I have it in writing that if my application is unsuccessful, my law firm would return all my legal fees unless I lied on the application, I am not being refunded. I'm currently pointing out to them it's not terribly fair to withhold my refund under these circumstances and they are of course ignoring me. Sigh. So now I need a whole new B plan, which I will begin to formulate after I'm done licking my wounds.

Winner!

2008 wasn't a brilliant year for me in many ways, not least of them cinematic. I didn't even bother with a top ten last year I found it so uninspiring. And when a film arrives on the crest of the critically adoring wave only to be from a director I don't think has delivered a watchable film since 1995, then my overwhelming response is "meh".

So I'm really glad that Slumdog Millionaire was so completely wonderful. It did not put a foot wrong for its whole 120 minute running time. It was wonderfully written, it was superbly acted and it was pretty flawlessly directed. The viewer is drawn in to a story that is by turns funny, sad, dramatic, stomach churning, heartbreaking, nailbiting and of course uplifting. It's colourful, it's loud, it's kinetic, it has a killer soundtrack and if you're not wrestling with a lump in your throat (or indeed blubbing like the homo you are, PCB) over the inspired Bollywood end credits, then you have no soul. Slumdog has kicked off 2009 in fine style as the best film I've seen in quite some time. Here's hoping it's just the tip of the iceberg.

Naked Farmer: The 2009 Return

So this year, my secret Santa bought to me another naked people calendar. This time, it's firemen. There was a website noted on the calendar, so I though "fantastic! I can do the same thing I did last year, only with firemen instead of farmers". Now, there's a sentence. But, I went to the website, only to find it doesn't exist. The farmers, though, are far more organised. So here it is. The naked farmer for January 2009. Enjoy.

People, is this any way to start a new year?

So last night, for reasons I still can't quite work out, I went to the roadshow presentation of Che. The cinema just down the road from me was showing it, in its 4 hour 17 minute glory. The start time was listed at 6:45pm, so I figured it would be done by 11pm and I'd be home not long after.

Wrong-o. There was 20 minutes of pointless faff at the beginning and a 25 minute interval between the two parts so the whole thing took five hours from start to finish. The irony is it was only ever good and watchable (admittedly with an insanely amazing performance from Benicio Del Toro), it never really tipped over into being great. Oh well.

I forget, every time I go to this cinema that, as it's the local "arthouse" cinema, the level of pretentious film snob conversations I overhear tend to make me want to kick people. When I saw La Vie En Rose there, for example, I overheard someone saying "yah yah, well of course Charles did see Edith perform in Paris." Oh fuck off. Last night's little gem was someone commenting to their friend that the last time they'd seen a film here it was Terrence Malick's A New World. He then spent a few minutes waxing rhapsodic about Malick and how wonderful Thin Red Line and New World are before saying "I mean, I find it really challenging to stay awake during them, but they're so amazing". I had to really fight the urge to tap him on the shoulder and say "when a film bores you into unconsciousness, I don't think you really think they're good, do you?"

Bye bye 2008!

As 2008 gasps its last breath, is there anyone looking back at the last 12 months and thinking "that was awesome, let's do it all again next year!"? Anyone? Bueller?

While there were some fun times, on the whole my 2008 was a lousy pile of suck. Personally and professionally, it's been a fucking difficult and not at all fun year. I've come very close to quitting and (I recently discovered) I came quite close to being sacked. I don't have a boyfriend, I'm still in masses of debt, blah blah blah.

And 2009 doesn't look like it's going to be any more fun right now. So, for the first time in a while, I'm making some resolutions that will give me some focus and hopefully make 2009 that little bit more bearable than 2008.

1. Join Facebook. Resistance is apparently futile. I will not be playing any fucking Scrabble though.

2. Lose weight. I battled with my weight this year and did manage to drop 30 pounds. While that's not to be sniffed at, it's not exactly earth shattering either. I can, and will, do better.

3. Hit my savings target. I have a goal and I'm not exactly a million miles away from it. I have to dip in to the savings next month to bail out the New York trip but after that I have to sort my shit out and knuckle down so that by this time next year, my savings goal has been reached and I can breathe easy.

There that's it. I know it's hardly an exhaustive list but given that my only resolution for the past few years has been to not make any resolutions, I think that's pretty good.

A Bit Of A Do(n't)

I'm sure it can have escaped nobody's attention that it's the holiday season and Christmas is so very nearly upon us. We're firmly into "Work Christmas Party" time. I work for one of the bazillions of companies that have been negatively impacted by the global recession so the festivities were on something of a smaller scale than in previous years.

And yet still, somehow, it managed to be a messy messy evening. I had originally planned to stay for one or two drinks and be home at a reasonable hour. Why I planned this I do not know as it never ever works. So of course, there I was at midnight, seven hours after arriving, drunk off my ass, snogging straight boys (who had snogged me first), snogging girls (who asked me to), telling people things I swore I would never breathe a word of (in vino veritas to the max). It actually got pretty intense for a while too. For the people keeping score, I have been hating my job for a fair while now. When I was really in the thick of hating it, I was acting out a lot and not really thinking about what I was doing. Never a wise move and I got into a long and drawn out conversation with a colleague about what issues that behaviour had caused. It was not fun. Luckily I'm in a better place and was able to deal with it, but on top of the unexpected tongue kissing and the blabbing about all the people on our floor that I would have sex with and whose cocks I'd taken peeks at at the urinals in the staff toilets, it was all just a little much.

Yesterday was lost to hangover (I haven't had a hangover in a really long time, so I wallowed) and I am supposed to be at the gym right now but I find myself still in bed, updating the blog on my laptop. I got really sick when I came back from NYC, I got a really bad cold/very mild flu and was off work for a day and a half with it last week. I am still waking up with a tight chest and wheezing like an 80 a day smoker with emphysema so I figure it's not wise to go charging to the gym unless i want to end up in an oxygen tent or something. But it's frustrating the everloving crap out of me! I feel really fat and bloaty right now and just want to be back in the routine at the gym. Said routine is going to be even more thrown out of whack in the next two weeks by Christmas and New Year. I am in the dangerous place whereby if i lose my impetus I may never go back and that CANNOT BE ALLOWED TO HAPPEN!

"The phrase 'Mom's pussy' seemed a bit gauche"

On Saturday, I went to see August: Osage County at the National. The jet lag came back around for a last hurrah and woke me at 4am. Consequently I was concerned I would nod off during the show. Not a chance. I was rivetted to my seat for every single one of the show's 210 minutes.



Arriving in the UK on a tidal wave of acclaim and awards, we get 9 out of 13 original Steppenwolf cast members and of the 4 additions, only one of them has had no previous affiliation to the show. It's a pretty fucking top class ensemble with some absolutely mind bendingly fantastic performances. Deanna Dunagan may have won the lion's share of the performance awards, but for me Amy Morton absolutely stole the show.

And what a show. It is one of the most well crafted, exquisitely well observed and written, wonderfully staged and flawlessly directed shows I've seen. Ever. Is it a perfect play? Of course not. It's slow to start and takes its sweet time to get to the final curtain too. It has perhaps one subplot too many and veers a little too strongly toward soap opera every so often. But these, you must understand, are minor quibbles. Is the show an American masterpiece? Without a doubt. I am a little saddened that it's closing here on January 21st at the end of its 8 week limited run. I would love to see it again. And again. As it is I will have to cherish the memory of one of the most glorious afternoons in my theatrical history.

I love Will Young

I didn't watch a single second of Pop Idol when it started in the UK. I didn't really care when Will beat stuttering Gareth Gates to the title. I didn't even care that much when he came out. But when he began to free himself from the shackles of Pop Idol and produced some great songs as well as proving that he could really sing, I began to be interested. Also, in every interview he ever gives, he always seems very sweet, funny and self effacing, not to mention genuinely happy to be where he is and loving doing what he's doing. Compare his attitude to some other people who got their start the same way he did (Alex Parks, Girls Aloud), and it's easy to see why he's so popular.

Currently in the middle of a concert hall, rather than arena sized, tour to promote his latest (and I think best) album, Let It Go, I went to see him perform the other night. And I was blown away. He was fabulous, funny, energetic (a friend who had seen him earlier in the tour said it was like watching Tigger, and I have to agree). This is the first time I'd seen him live and I do think this type of performance (just him and a band, no fuss no mess) suits him down to the ground. Apparently his arena tour for the Keep On album was fabulous too but here's hoping he's found his niche and continues touring like this for the foreseeable.

Also, what a difference a new camera makes! Comparing these pics to the Tori Amos non events of last year, well, there is truly no comparison.

Naked Farmer for December

So here he is. 2008's naked farmer swansong. I feel a little bit sad that it's all over.