Arts Reviews

Ed Hall, boss of the Hampstead theatre, places before our consideration a new play by Athol Fugard. The gong-grabbing, apartheid-drubbing South African author creates dramas that are rich in humanity and compassion, filled with curiosity about the architecture of suffering, and distinguished by flights of poetic soulfulness. And by God, they’re dull. Fugard doesn’t do action, romance or suspense. He does chat. Lots of it. His monologues stream in and out of one another in a textured gloop of Oscar-hinting earnestness. Generally, he deploys the same easy-to-assemble stage furniture: a shack dumped on the orange savannah surrounded by poverty-stricken fences. The shack can be assembled from the contents of a

Harry Becker (1865–1928) is one of those artists too often dismissed as being of regional interest only, who feature but rarely in the art chronicles of the period. Harry Becker (1865–1928) is one of those artists too often dismissed as being of regional interest only, who feature but rarely in the art chronicles of the period. He is most widely known for his illustrations to Adrian Bell’s celebrated Suffolk trilogy — Corduroy, Silver Ley and The Cherry Tree — and it is worth noting that Becker’s pictures were matched to Bell’s prose after the artist’s death, though they seem to be made for each other in their near-perfect fit. Becker

Writing in the Irish Times, Morgan Kelly has denigrated the Irish government’s handling of the economy. Comparisons are often counter-factual – Irish politics is not divided along lines of left and right, and the Celtic Tiger was made of tissue paper. But, to English readers – servicing a colossal national debt with their punitive tax bills, facing crumbling house prices, waiting for the moment when mortgages become beyond the reach of all but the cash rich, and encumbered with billions in worthless global bank assets – it is a truly terrifying read. I urge CoffeeHousers’ to read the whole piece, but here is its essence: ‘By next year Ireland will

Those who have just enjoyed their final Downton fix of the year may be interested to read Taki’s opinion of its creator, Julian Fellowes, in this week’s magazine: It was during a von Bülow lunch in a St James’s club which is also mine, and I was seated next to a plump, bald man who smiled brightly and introduced himself as Julian Fellowes. ‘My wife is lady-in-waiting to Princess Michael of Kent,’ was his opening line. I burst out laughing but, in order not to be rude, I said nothing. My first thought was, is he bragging or complaining? Now that I have read an interview he gave to a

The greatest myth to affect Paul Gauguin (1848–1903) is the one of his own life: the romantic bohemian who escaped to the South Seas. The greatest myth to affect Paul Gauguin (1848–1903) is the one of his own life: the romantic bohemian who escaped to the South Seas. This has spawned numerous popular interpretations from novels such as Somerset Maugham’s Moon and Sixpence to films which include Lust for Life (though principally about van Gogh, it features Anthony Quinn as an unforgettable Gauguin) and the Danish–French Wolf at the Door (1986). The danger with such an enjoyable myth as Gauguin’s back-to-nature nonconformist is that it is more than likely to