The good, the bad and the ugly in books, exhibitions, cinema, TV, dance, music, podcasts and theatre.
Dolly Parton is a lady and Emmylou Harris is a dame, but Patsy Cline was a broad. A rootin’ tootin’ bar-room broad as fond of cussin’ as she was of a beer and a good time. You gotta have her in this series sooner, rather than later. Unusually for a singer, she’d hang out with
Oh dear. Nearly 80 years ago Dorothy Parker wrote a bleak poem entitled ‘Resume’. Back then she must have thought she’d been fairly comprehensive in covering all possible self-inflicted exit routes. Razors pain you; Rivers are damp; Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp. Guns aren’t lawful; Nooses give; Gas smells awful; You might as
The Girlfriend Experience Young Vic Helen Globe Who exploits prostitutes? Men, of course. And women, too. In particular those feminist politicians, always at panic stations, always posing as moral redeemers, who promote the myth that there’s only one type of hooker in this country — the crackhead Albanian rape-slave living in an airing cupboard —
Was it a shock, Joan Bakewell was asked, when Harold Pinter showed you the script of his latest play? Bakewell was hardly going to reveal live on air to ten million listeners what she really felt about Pinter’s use of their affair as a plot device in Betrayal. She’s far too smart for that. All
Janet Boulton: Remembering Little Sparta Edinburgh College of Art, until 30 August Janet Boulton (born 1936) is an artist of integrity and dedication, whose principal subject is still-life. She paints in watercolour, that most demanding of media, and eschews drama of subject or treatment. She has chosen a difficult path, and one which attracts little
Tristan und Isolde Glyndebourne Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde is a work of stark oppositions, which are overcome, or seem to be, in the final bars, as Isolde sinks lifeless over Tristan’s body, in a state of (her last words) ‘unconsciousness, highest bliss’. Well, which? you might ask. If you’re unconscious you can’t be in a
There is no plaque yet on No 13 Baldwin Crescent, otherwise known as ‘Dunedin’. There ought to be. For on the top floor of this shabby yellow-brick house, hidden away between the Camberwell New Road and gloomy Myatt’s Fields, Muriel Spark wrote most of the four or five novels for which we’ll remember her. She
God’s Philosophers: How the Medieval World Laid the Foundations of Modern Science, by James Hannam We all have our hobby-horses. James Hannam’s is the abuse of the word ‘medieval’. Hats off. As I have written in this magazine before, using the term as shorthand for anything you consider cruel, arcane or barbarous (be it the
In 1935, Noël Coward included in his series of playlets, Tonight at 8.30, a jaunty, song-filled exposé, in Victorian dress, of fam- ily relationships, Family Album. Penelope Lively’s novel of the same title, her 16th, covers similar territory — without the jauntiness or predisposition to burst into song. It is an apt title. Lively’s novel
1938: Hitler’s Gamble, by Giles MacDonogh Hitler’s greatest gamble in 1938 was his determination to occupy the Czechoslovak Sudetenland, even at the risk of sparking a European war. Neither Neville Cham- berlain nor the French prime minister, Edouard Daladier, was prepared to play for such high stakes and they threw in their chips, giving the
When I first read Naked Lunch, as a teenager sleeping rough in a Greek olive grove, I thought it funny, baffling and vile, its hallucinatory horrors recalling paintings by Francis Bacon — ‘mouth and eyes are one organ that leaps forward to snap with transparent teeth’. A diet of ouzo and dodgy mousaka played havoc
Sean Rafferty tells Henrietta Bredin how an abbot persuaded him to make his first recording Six minutes to go before the daily live broadcast of BBC Radio Three’s In Tune goes on air and the atmosphere is full of a sort of supercharged alertness, of tension expertly controlled by a small team of people who
One of my favourite blog features is Norm’s Friday blogger profiles. This week he profiles Willie George Haggard and, frankly, its a doozy. It reminds me that I’ve been a little slack in posting Saturday Morning Country lately. My bad. And I can’t quite believe we’ve got this far in the series without featuring Merle
Die Walküre Mariinsky Opera at Covent Garden When the Mariinsky Opera, under its ultra-hyperactive chief Valery Gergiev, brought its touring Ring to Cardiff in 2006, it was the low point of my life as an opera-goer, with, it is fair to say, no redeeming feature. After strong criticism from many people in many places, the
I have so far avoided swine flu but have caught the festival bug badly this year. Back from Glastonbury, I realised I could squeeze in a day at GuilFest, the much smaller and less intimidating festival held each year in Guildford’s Stoke Park. I have so far avoided swine flu but have caught the festival
‘Aggressive camping’ is how one of the characters in Andy McNab’s first play for radio describes his activities in Helmand province in Aghanistan. ‘Aggressive camping’ is how one of the characters in Andy McNab’s first play for radio describes his activities in Helmand province in Aghanistan. Last Night, Another Soldier… (Radio Four, Saturday) received a
Our monsoon season brings not only cricket delays but also a flowering of local classic-car shows. Testimony to nostalgic enthusiasm, they prompt the reflection that man is never more innocently engaged than when he values something for what it is, rather than for what he can get out of it. Not that the classic-car world
Between 1945 and his death in 1961 Ernest Hemingway published only two books, apart from collections of stories mostly written before the war. The two were Across the River and Into the Trees and The Old Man and the Sea. The first was generally considered a failure, the second a success; and it’s doubtless perversity
A Streetcar Named Desire Donmar Too Close to the Sun Comedy Kissed by Brel Jermyn Street Streetcar opens with a strange spectacle. Christopher Oram’s lovely — too lovely — design has the upper circle decked out in peeling ironwork which soars across the boards and modulates into a chic spiral staircase overlooking the Kowalski’s open-plan
There is a word ‘deification’, but there ought to be a homophone, perhaps ‘dayification’, meaning the way daytime television spreads into the evenings. There is a word ‘deification’, but there ought to be a homophone, perhaps ‘dayification’, meaning the way daytime television spreads into the evenings. There are now only five types of daytime programming
‘The second world war lasted for 2,174 days, cost $1.5 trillion and claimed the lives of over 50 million people. That represents 23,000 lives lost every day, or more than six people killed every minute, for six long years.’ This neat summary is characteristic of the way Andrew Roberts uses statistics to bring home to
It must be 20 years since Spectator readers first encountered the name Theodore Dalrymple. It’s not his real name, of course. Several times over the years people have told me of his true identity, which I have always instantly forgotten, presumably because I don’t really want to know it. Far more appropriate that Dalrymple should
We Are All Made of Glue, by Marina Lewycka The Rehearsal, by Eleanor Catton Yalo, by Elias Khory, translated by Humphrey Davies We Are All Made of Glue is Marina Lewycka’s third novel — or, more accurately, her third published novel, since she famously made her way through several other works and a rain-forest’s worth
Lloyd Evans celebrates Tennyson’s miraculous musicality ‘He had the finest ear of any English poet,’ said W.H. Auden. ‘He was also, undoubtedly, the stupidest.’ This famous jibe aimed at Tennyson (whose bicentenary falls on 6 August) is revealing in its shrill and almost triumphant bitchiness. Every age rejects the one before and it’s no surprise
The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 15, Nationwide The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 is a remake of the 1974 film which starred Walter Matthau and Robert Shaw — remember the ending; the sneeze and the gesundheit? — and I don’t know how this remake got off the ground exactly, but I’m imagining
In the course of a long listening career, records tend to come and go. I look back at old columns and marvel at the enthusiasm I once felt for records I no longer remember owning, let alone enjoying. Some records come and go and come back again, of course, and a few stay for ever:
The Fairy Queen The Proms Gluck double bill Wigmore Hall Purcell’s The Fairy Queen has been a big success at Glyndebourne this year, in a production by Jonathan Kent, and with William Christie conducting. I decided to wait till it came to the Proms, where it was presumably a very different experience. In the Royal
Being a right-wing columnist under New Labour’s liberal fascist tyranny is a bit like being a South Wales Borderer at Rorke’s Drift: so many targets, so little time. Being a right-wing columnist under New Labour’s liberal fascist tyranny is a bit like being a South Wales Borderer at Rorke’s Drift: so many targets, so little
We’re still living with the fallout of the Iranian Revolution back in 1979 — and we still don’t really understand how the West got its reaction to events so wrong, or what could have been done differently. We’re still living with the fallout of the Iranian Revolution back in 1979 — and we still don’t