The Ghost Train

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Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester

19/05/15

The Royal Exchange are billing The Ghost Train as a comedy thriller, and there are certainly elements of both within Dad’s Army favourite Arnold Ridley’s 1920s play. It’s a lively production, performed with zeal by the ever-peppy Told By an Idiot, and there’s plenty to commend.

The premise is simple: six passengers are stranded at an isolated railway station, purportedly haunted by a ghost train. The play follows the development of their relationships, and unravels the mystery of the phantom. It’s hardly challenging stuff, but then, it isn’t meant to be, or at least not in this incarnation. Here, it’s clearly supposed to be fun – a riotous, silly, galumphing escapade – and it certainly had the audience laughing throughout.

There were a lot of clever moments: I love a bit of overt theatricality, so I was tickled by the narration-and-sound-effects idea at the start of the play (although I did feel it went on too long), and impressed by some of the set pieces, such as the initial (interrupted) train journey, and the prolonged parrot-chase. The cast revelled in the performance, and their enthusiasm was – at times – infectious.

However, despite (or because of) all the playfulness and witty ideas, the play just didn’t hang together. It was uneven and incoherent at times, with techniques shoehorned in as if it were an A level piece (where students need to demonstrate everything they know, all at once, even if it doesn’t really fit).

And, while some ideas were stretched to their limits – the ludicrous woman-in-a-parrot-suit, for example – other, more promising notions just weren’t taken far enough (the clowning was half-hearted; the drag act criminally understated), which was a real shame.

In all honesty, this play just didn’t work for me or my companions, but this certainly wasn’t a universal view. The house was raucous with laughter, and the applause was enthusiastic. Why not see it and decide for yourself? You certainly won’t be bored.

2.4 stars

Susan Singfield

Mad Max: Fury Road

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17/05/15

I have to declare from the start that this has been my most eagerly anticipated film of the year. I’ve been a devoted fan of the Mad Max franchise, from its humble B movie origins in 1979, through the awesome action tropes of The Road Warrior in 1981, and on to the inventive storytelling of Beyond Thunderdome in 1985. Through the intervening 35 years… can it really have been that long?… I, like many others have been keeping alive the hope that director George Miller would stop concentrating his talents on anodyne nonsense like Babe and Happy Feet and revisit his glorious, testosterone-fuelled past. And by jove, he’s finally done it – although this time out, he’s added a welcome dash of oestrogen too!

It’s a tough act to follow and a tough act for newbie Max, Tom Hardy, to step into Mel Gibson’s boots – so I’m delighted to report that this is a triumphant return to form and that Fury Road not only equals those earlier efforts but in many ways surpasses them. It’s a blitzkrieg of stunning vehicular chases, amazing stunt work and unforgettable dystopian visions, but it’s also backed up by a compelling central story. As ever in Miller-land, dialogue is kept to a minimum (Hardy doesn’t get to utter so much as a word for the first twenty minutes or so) but there’s so much going on up on the screen, you barely notice.

In a nightmarish, desert landscape, evil dictator Imortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne) has founded an empire built on toil and the exploitation of the weak. (Max fans will remember Keays-Byrne as ‘Toecutter’ in the very first movie.) When one of Joe’s war parties brings in a bearded, half-conscious Max, the captive is summarily shaved, tattooed and branded, and is then assigned to ailing suicide-warrior, Nux (a barely recognisable Nicholas Hoult) as a living blood transfusion unit. However, when one of Joe’s most trusted lieutenants, Imperator Furiosa (Charlize Theron) decides to abscond with Joe’s five young wives (or his breeding stock, as he so delicately refers to them) Nux is one of the team despatched to bring them back and Max duly finds himself strapped to the front of a truck and hurled headlong into a terrifying chase. We’re taken along for the ride.

And what an unforgettable ride it is! The film leaps effortlessly from one frantic chase to the next, as Miller’s welded-together juggernauts collide, accelerate, swerve and explode in jaw-dropping style. There’s barely a sign of CGI to be seen, everything’s done pretty much for real and it’s little wonder that the closing credits feature what looks like hundreds of stunt performers. But it’s more than just action. Miller’s futuristic world is fully thought-through and dazzlingly captured amidst the stunning Namibian landscapes (this is the first of the series not actually shot in Australia) and there’s so much here to delight and surprise the viewers. Key among them are the manic lead guitarist chained to the front of a truck and pumping out death metal and fire in equal amounts; Joe’s breast-milk pumping parlour, where pregnant women are er… pressed into service; and the tribe of aged motorbiking female warriors who turn up to prove that when it comes to a fight, they’re more than a match for the younger men.

I loved this to pieces. The Mad Max films, though, are cinematic Marmite. If you don’t like what Miller does, this is going to feel like putting your head in a tumble drier and pressing the on switch. If however you like action cinema at its most inventive, this one is for you. One thing. The film was actually shot in 2D and for the 3D version, the process has been retroactively applied, which never makes for a good transfer; but trust me. You won’t need 3D for this. It’s eye-popping enough without.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

03/06/15

Ahem! Time to eat a few slices of humble pie. After my suggestion that there was no need to see Mad Max; Fury Road in 3D as it hadn’t actually been shot that way, a couple of friends contacted me to say they’d seen it in 3D and it looked pretty damned good to them. So I broke the habit of a lifetime and went back to the cinema to check out their claims. I have to admit that my friends were absolutely spot on. Not only does this movie bear repeated viewing (it really is that good) it also looks eye-poppingly brilliant in 3D and effortlessly leaps into the ranks of my favourite films in that format – Gravity, Hugo, Avatar and er… Piranha 3D. In fact, if i see a better film this year than MMFR, I’ll be very surprised.

Far From The Madding Crowd

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11/05/15

Thomas Vinterberg is a brave man – brave enough to take on Far From The Madding Crowd, in the certain knowledge that it is going to be compared to John Schlesinger’s 1967 masterpiece and inevitably found wanting. But perhaps I’m being unfair. Julie Christie, Alan Bates, Terence Stamp – these are all names that belong to another era and will mean very little to young cinema fans – and there’s no doubt that Carey Mulligan’s take on the tempestuous Bathsheba Everdean is as accomplished as you could reasonably want, even if some of her costumes – (the leather riding jerkin in particular,) don’t quite convince as being of the period.

Thomas ‘Chuckles’ Hardy is of course, a writer who excels in miserable stories and few come glummer than this tale of thwarted love and desire. Bathsheba is an orphan, who works as a farm labourer. The neighbouring farm is owned by handsome but taciturn shepherd, Gabriel Oak (Matthias Schoonaerts.) Gabriel takes a shine to Bathsheba and asks her to marry him, but she’s not quite ready to settle down yet and declines his offer. Shortly afterwards, as it is wont to do in Hardy novels, disaster strikes, robbing Gabriel of his livelihood and obliging him to move away. Bathsheba does rather better for herself, inheriting a farm when her Uncle dies unexpectedly. By a twist of fate, (or massive coincidence, whichever you prefer) she finds herself as Gabriel’s employer and is subsequently lusted after, both by her rich neighbour, Mr Boldwood (Michael Sheen) and by a rakish soldier, Sergeant Troy (Tom Sturridge.) Gabriel remains in the background, her ever watchful guardian angel. But which man will she end up with? And how many gallons of tears will be shed along the way?

Vinterberg, who came up through the Danish Festen cinema movement, makes a pretty good fist of this quintessentially English tale. The rolling landscape of Dorset is handsomely portrayed, the performances are all pretty much spot on (Sheen is in particularly good form as the tragic, obsessive Boldwood) and though the Sergeant Troy ‘reveal’ is handled far better in the Schlesinger version, it’s hard to fault such a meticulously rendered production. Hardy fans will perhaps feel that this version is more about Gabriel’s story than Bathsheba’s, but that seems to me a minor quibble. This is superior filmmaking and the results are well worth catching.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Malt Cross, Nottingham

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10/05/15

The Malt Cross must qualify as Nottingham’s most extraordinary dining venue. Built as a music hall in 1877 by one Charles Weldon, entertainer, it’s charming hanging stage has played host to the like of Dame Nellie Melba, Stan Laurel and even Charlie Chaplin. It’s one of just four existing music halls in the UK and the only one that still offers live entertainment. Thanks to a £1.3 million lottery grant, it’s been lovingly refurbished, retaining as many of the original features as possible and as well as exuding tons of atmosphere, the place is a regular hive of creativity, offering theatrical events, concerts, clubs, societies and even studio space in which to film videos. Even more remarkably, it’s built over the site of a monastery that was founded in the 1200’s and down in the sub basement, there’s a network of eerie-looking caves.

As if all this wasn’t enough, it’s also a dining venue. We were there for Sunday lunch and though there was a decent al a carte menu, which includes the ubiquitous roast dinner, there was also something I haven’t seen elsewhere. On the table is a pad full of order forms. As you can see from the illustration, there are just three smoked meats to choose from – Beef Brisket, Pulled Pork or Pulled Chicken – and two vegetarian options – Portobello Mushroom with melted halloumi or a ‘Beet Burger’. Each option costs just £6 and you can wrap it in your choice of three breads or go for a healthy salad on the side.

However, once you have chosen your basic ingredients, you can then customise your meal to your heart’s content by ticking up to thirteen ‘toppings’ at no extra cost. For a pound or so more, you can also choose from six side dishes. You then hand in your orders and sit back with a well-earned drink.

I tried the beef brisket and Susan opted for the pulled chicken. Both arrived promptly, displayed on unpretentious enamel plates and both meals were hearty and delicious. (A tiny niggle – my potato wedges with rosemary salt were delicious but could have done with being a little bit hotter. No big deal.) The portions were generous enough to deter us from looking at the dessert menu, but I can report that in the bar area, there’s a whole election of freshly baked cakes on offer, the profits from which go to a local charity.

So, next time you’re in Nottingham, head down to James Street for a great value lunch in one of the most amazing settings you will ever witness. I guarantee it will be a unique  dining experience.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

Unfriended

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08/05/15

There have already been a few unsuccessful attempts to marry the fright movie to the world of social media – Chatroom (2010) springs to mind, or last year’s low budget offering, Open Window – but Unfriended is the first film to really understand how the medium actually works and to exploit it to maximum effect. The film’s events are completely confined to the screen of a computer and the interconnected Skype calls of five young friends who find themselves being trolled by a sixth, initially unidentified caller. Whoever it is seems intent on carrying out an ever more vicious revenge for something the others have all been involved in. Could the trolling have anything to do with the first anniversary of the suicide of Laura Barns (Heather Sossaman) a young woman who killed herself after a humiliating film of her drunken indiscretions was publicly aired on Facebook? It’s in no way a spoiler to say, yes, it could, big time.

Considering the restrictions of the staging, Unfriended manages to generate almost unbearable levels of tension, often in the most unexpected ways – the time, for instance, it takes for an emailed link to download, or the way in which characters, composing text messages, repeatedly edit themselves before pressing send. The young cast of unknowns do a pretty good job of convincing us that they are genuinely terrified. As events move from the explicable to the paranormal, there’s plenty of stylish chills to enjoy, despite the film’s 15 certificate. Some of the (admittedly fleeting) gore effects surely challenge that categorisation, but maybe I’m being picky. The film certainly isn’t for everyone. There were a few mid-movie walkouts at the screening I attended and a row of kids sitting behind us, seemed to think it was fine to chatter all the way through it, just as they would if they were on social media themselves. Maybe they don’t get out much.

Unfriended is a valuable addition to the horror genre, much more satisfying that the majority of found-footage, shaky cam offerings that have arrived, seemingly relentlessly,  in the wake of the seminal Blair Witch Project. But be warned. This film could put the more nervous viewer off using social media for life.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

The Falling

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03/05/15

Carol Morley’s The Falling is an intriguing and occasionally mesmerising film, that has somehow managed to stake a claim at the multiplexes, amidst the tub-thumping superhero and action flicks. You’ll have to go back a long way to find something similar; all the way, in fact, to 1975, and Peter Weir’s Picnic At Hanging Rock, with which this film seems to share an affinity for the languorous, sensual qualities of nature. Weir’s story was, of course, based in Australia and this one, somewhere in the UK (it’s never actually specified exactly where) but Morley is fond of counterpointing luscious shots of lakes and woods with the tightly corseted, emotionless wasteland of a girls’ private school. Indeed, the two films have so many scenes in common, I refuse to believe that it’s coincidental.

It’s 1969 and the wild and rebellious Abbie (Florence Pugh) is beginning to discover the depths of her own sexuality. Her best friend, Lydia (Maisie Williams) can only watch helplessly as Abbie is inexorably drawn away from her towards Lydia’s brother, Kenneth (Joe Cole). Lydia lives with Kenneth and her tightly buttoned mother, Eileen (Maxine Peake) an agoraphobe who never leaves the house and who seems incapable of portraying any kind of emotion whatsoever. When Abbie finds she is pregnant, it threatens to blow apart the closeted world of the private school she attends and Lydia starts to look for ways to procure an abortion for her friend – but shortly afterwards, Abbie collapses and dies. The resulting shock has a profound effect on her fellow pupils. Lydia begins to experience rapturous fainting spells and as hysteria mounts, more and more more girls (and even one of the female teachers) experience the same phenomenon. In the film’s most powerful scene, pretty much the whole morning assembly succumbs. Is it simply a case of mass hysteria? Or is something deeper and more sinister at work?

The film revels in throwing out more questions than it has answers for. Morley’s slow, sensual direction generates an atmosphere of incredible tension and there are occasional uses of subliminal imagery that lend the film an almost hallucinatory quality. As Lydia, Williams delivers an unforgettable performance, while Pugh is so charismatic that her memory haunts the proceedings despite her early exit. Interesting too, to see former Merchant Ivory pin-up Greta Scaachi, taking on the role of the school’s sternest teacher.

The Falling is by no means a perfect film, but it’s far more experimental than most movies you’ll see these days and it has an ephemeral quality that will prompt you to talk about it long after the final credits have rolled. Not something you would say about Iron Man or The Avengers.

4.4 stars

Philip Caveney

Whose Lunch is it Anyway? Stu and Garry’s Free Improv Show

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The Stand, Edinburgh

03/05/15

Stu Murphy and Garry Dobson’s residency at The Stand is an inspired way for the comedy club to draw in the punters during that entertainment dearth otherwise known as ‘Sunday lunchtime.’ We’ve seen the pair before (a twenty-minute slot during a night of stand-up), but this is the first time we’ve managed to catch their full-length act, and it really didn’t disappoint.

For starters, it’s free. I suppose it would need to be; this improbable time slot depends on people taking a punt, and thinking, ‘Well, why not?’ The place was bursting (although, as the eponymous duo pointed out, it was raining, and it was a bank holiday weekend). Perhaps the numbers aren’t always so good. We didn’t eat, but plenty around us did. This seems to be a popular gig for the hungry and hungover.

As for the act, it’s just a series of well-trodden improvisation games, but they’re played so well and with such joy and mischief, that it’s a real delight to be there. The comedians are inventive, clever, witty and warm. I can’t think of a better way to round off a weekend.

Oh – and Philip even got to go onstage, after volunteering to be the ‘puppeteer,’ controlling Stu’s every move during one (hilarious) scene. Now there’s funny for you.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

The Venetian Twins

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02/05/15

Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

Carlo Goldoni is, of course, the playwright whose earlier work, A Servant of Two Masters was so fruitfully adapted by the National Theatre to create One Man, Two Guvnors. The Venetian Twins is cut from the same bolt of gaudy cloth (indeed, can it really be a coincidence that lead actor Grant O Rourke is a dead ringer for James Corden?) At any rate, it matters not. This is a farce majeure, beautifully played, timed to precision and rib ticklingly funny from start to finish.

The action takes place in Verona. Rich and somewhat dim country boy, Zanetto (O Rourke) comes in search of a bride, specifically the nice but equally dim Columbina (Angela Darcy) whose gold-digging father, The Provost senses an opportunity to refill the family’s depleted coffers. But Zanetto has an identical twin brother, Tonino (also played by O Rourke) from whom he was separated as a child. When Tonino flees his native Venice for Verona along with his sweetheart, prototype feminist Beatrice (Jessica Hardwick), the scene is set for a bewildering series of ‘mistaken identity’ disasters. It’s a cliche to say that much hilarity ensues but in this case, that’s exactly right.

In the wrong hands, farce can be toe-curling, but there’s not a foot put wrong here (unless you count the hilariously drunken old landlady who falls repeatedly through an open trapdoor.) This owes much to Commedia Dell Arte, but this is no ‘off-the-peg plot. Much of the wittily updated script by Tony Cownie is delivered in broad Scots accents, which work brilliantly, and there’s a wonderfully foppish performance by John Kielty as the effete (and inevitably English-accented) Florindo. There’s some wonderfully fruity innuendo, a fistful of malapropisms from Columbina and a stomach-churning scene involving a blocked toilet that modesty forbids me to describe in detail. Meanwhile, O Rourke slips effortlessly between the two roles simply by doing up the top button on his jacket and adopting a different expression. The two acts galloped by while the audience, myself included, were convulsed with laughter from start to finish. If laughter is something you relish, then you really should see this before it moves on. It’s a Venetian blinder.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

My Big Fat Greek Kitchen, Edinburgh

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01/05/15

We visited this restaurant after a recommendation from a friend. It’s situated on Brougham Street, a stone’s throw from the Meadows. The interior is fairly Spartan and has the atmosphere of a simple taverna. I don’t know for sure, but I’d hazard a guess that MBFGK is a family-run affair and it’s clear from the hugs and kisses handed out by the proprietor to various guests as they departed, that this place generates a lot of return custom. Service, it has to be said, through warm and friendly, was a tad erratic. Our waitress kept galloping about the place to rearrange chairs and tables, even in the middle of taking our order.

For starters, I chose Whitebait, a dish that’s notoriously difficult to find these days. These were somewhat larger than expected and nicely cooked, lightly dusted with breadcrumbs. They came with nothing more than a small bowl of mayonnaise and the traditional slice of lemon. Susan chose Feta Cheese with kalamata olives and that’s exactly what she got – a generous hunk of cheese and a pile of bitter-tasting olives; but the dish needed something more to complete it – a couple of slices of pitta bread would have been a welcome addition. Perhaps some salad garnish?

For the main course, I went with Stifado – a rich and peppery beef stew. It arrived slapped into a white bowl, accompanied by a couple of pieces of dry toasted bread and an almost risible selection of fries – there were perhaps six of them in total, tasting of very little. The stew itself was hearty and satisfying, but once again, the dish felt incomplete and there was no attempt to make it look appetising. Susan’s choice of Lamb Souvlaki was pretty good, I thought, a generously sized skewer of tender meat,  onion and peppers, resting on a bed of rice, but once again, the dish looked rather underwhelming. The chef clearly knows how to prepare the meat elements of the meals, but would do well, I think, to put a little more effort into his presentation skills.

We drank a bottle of house white and I would have expected this to be a traditional Greek wine – an Assyrtiko, perhaps or a Savatiano, but instead we were served a (fairly decent) Italian Pino Grigio. Go figure. Overall, we enjoyed the food, but the name leads you to expect some kind of gastronomic blowout, which this certainly wasn’t. Don’t get me wrong. It was decent food, but with a little more work on the presentation, it would have scored much higher.

3.2 stars

Philip Caveney

Kro, Heaton Moor

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31/04/15

Kro has been in a prime location on the Moor since 2007. Back in the day, it was mostly famous for it’s Danish-inspired specialities, but that aspect has been somewhat reined in and these days it operates as an upmarket pub grub venue. The place has a relaxed atmosphere and the open plan, glass-walled extension makes for pleasant dining, especially in the summer months. On Sunday evenings there’s ‘Song Swap’ where various musicians come together to perform their material. The staff are relaxed and friendly and nothing is too much trouble. Make no mistake, this isn’t a place where you’d come for haute cuisine. If however, you’re in the market for a great value bit of scran and you’re not in the mood to cook something at home, this is hard to beat. There’s a fairly comprehensive a la carte and every evening, you’ll find a selection of specials chalked up on a board, offering two courses for £10 and three for £12.50.

On our latest visit, we decided to stick entirely to the specials board. I began with Lamb Kofta served with tzatziki, rocket salad and pitta bread. The Kofta was spicy and crunchy, though there was only a single skewer. It was accompanied by a generous side bowl of tzatziki and a dry pitta bread. Susan’s choice was Breaded Salmon Bites with sweet chilli sauce. The bites were light and fluffy, delicately flavoured and nicely set off by the sweet sauce. I thought it was the better of the two starters, certainly more generous, though both were perfectly acceptable.

For the main course, I sampled the Crab Cakes, served with wilted spinach, tartare sauce and French Fries. The cakes themselves were a little dry, though flavoursome enough and there was a large bowl of tartare sauce into which to dunk them. The fries were unremarkable and in my estimation, could have done with another minute in the fryer. Once again, Susan fared better with her choice of Slow Roasted Pork Belly, served with crushed new potato cake and a saje (sic) and onion gravy. The pork was melt in the mouth tender with a pleasing crunchy top layer and the rich onion gravy brought everything together nicely.

The portions were generous enough to eschew a sweet, though all three choices sounded appealing. The total bill for the meal, with a round of drinks, came to less than £30, which any way you look at is exceptional value for money.

3.6 stars

Philip Caveney