Arts Reviews

Spike Milligan’s Adolf Hitler: My Part in his Downfall Hampstead The Black Album Cottesloe Good old Spike. Wonderful, charming, innocent Spike who could skewer authority with a child’s unthinking acuity. ‘Where were you born?’ asked the recruiting sergeant when he was conscripted. ‘India,’ said Spike. ‘Which part?’ ‘All of me.’ Ben Power and Tim Carroll have had the inspired idea of sifting the highlights of Spike’s wartime diaries and turning them into a singalong comedy tribute biography. But hang on. What’s a singalong comedy tribute biography? Well, it’s a bit of memoir, some gags and sketches, a few 1940s favourites to tap along to and a deep and meaningful section

Felicity, pleasure, happiness, luxe, calme et volupté. Felicity, pleasure, happiness, luxe, calme et volupté. Perfection: the blissful rightness of every note; a peach, or a rose, caught at the exact moment of poise between not-quite and slightly-past. Such thoughts are set off by a recent chance re-encounter with Debussy’s cantata setting a French translation of D-G. Rossetti’s ‘Blessed Damozel’. It’s one of two complementary gems poised upon the edge of maturity while retaining the flush of youth. The Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune is played every day; La Damoiselle élue is sadly neglected. Both are saturated in poetry; the purely orchestral Prélude assimilates the fluctuations of Mallarmé’s original in a

Corot to Monet National Gallery, until 20 September In the basement of the Sainsbury Wing is a free exhibition of paintings subtitled ‘A Fresh Look at Landscape from the Collection’. I always enjoy the rehanging of old favourites in new combinations because it not only reminds us of why we liked them in the first place but often allows us to see them in a new light, too. Different paintings hung together can arouse unaccustomed resonances, but it has to be done well, or the eye can be overwhelmed and the intended effects spoiled. Although this show contains many fine things, it projects a feeling of clutter, an air of

Michael Henderson has been to 100 operas by Wagner. He wasn’t always an admirer of the music When sceptics ask how I ‘found’ the music dramas of Richard Wagner there is an obvious, contrary answer: I didn’t; he found me. As a young music-lover I was certainly no Wagnerian in the making. Although I had always had a love of the orchestra, and slipped easily into the initially perplexing world of opera, I had little knowledge of Wagner, and no desire to find out. If anything I felt hostile. A master at prep school had entertained some of us 12-year-olds one Sunday afternoon, and popped on an LP called, improbably,

Richard Long: Heaven and Earth Tate Britain, until 6 September The title of this exhibition may not be exactly modest, but then there is a god-like aspect to all artistic creativity, particularly when it operates in the domain of Land Art. Some practitioners of this genre have literally made the earth move in their excavations and reshapings of nature, others keep their human interventions to a minimum. Richard Long (born 1945) is one of the latter, confining his activities principally to walking and to making tracks in the wild, or leaving behind him cairns of stones. Occasionally he brings back mementoes of his trips to make sculptures or painted installations

Do we really have any idea of how serious this is about to become? As I sat watching BBC 2’s recesion drama Freefall tonight I realsied that we are beginning to get an inkling. This was a quick-hit drama intended as an immediate response to the recession and it was very rough at the edges, but it showed how quickly the culture has grasped that this getting very grim indeed. It was a conventional enough story of an aspirational family wanting to move to a new private housing estate, but it sent a chill through these bones. There was a fascinating set of statistics in Nick Cohen’s Observer column this weekend, which should send

Henrietta Bredin talks to Ruth Wilson about her role as Stella in the Donmar’s Streetcar If Ruth Wilson doesn’t very soon become a major force to be reckoned with, as an actress, director, producer, screenwriter (probably all four), I’ll eat my entire, quite extensive collection of hats. She is bursting with talent and possesses a gleefully voracious appetite for a challenge. This is probably just as well as she is about to take on the role of Stella at the Donmar Warehouse in Tennessee Williams’s A Streetcar Named Desire. ‘I love Stella,’ she says, leaning back in her chair and gulping a mug of tea. ‘I think she’s quite an