"They all watch it, don't they?" is the self-justifying chorus of the hacks. There's a slight drag in the last 15 minutes and a guilt-salving collection by the cast for a prostitutes' charity at the end, acknowledgement that some of the victims' families have been uncomprehending or downright critical of the undertaking. But the humanity and dogged optimism of London Road puts musical theatre on another level. If this doesn't end up with a slew of theatrical awards, I'll eat my begonias.
A comedy of errors greeted my attempt to see Ibsen's late drama Little Eyolf at the Jermyn Street Theatre. I arrived a full 75 seconds late, but no admittance was granted. Fair enough, you might say, but stuff does happen on the way to the West End; it's a bit Prussian to have absolutely no arrangement for stragglers. The next day, they cut the interval time — and locked me out again.
So all I can fairly report is that this overwrought saga of jaded husband, needy wife, child tragedy and trouble up t'fjords had an absorbing first act.
Imogen Stubbs excels as Rita, possibly the most demanding wife in Ibsen (which is saying something), a woman so erotically obsessed by her husband that she can't live with the flawed, blocked, middle-aged human being he has become.
The play languishes in the minor league for good reason. Unsuitable sibling longings are heavily signposted, the supernatural element isn't far off Norwegian panto, with just as many laughs, and the script is impossibly wordy. Still, Doreen Mantle chills as the Rat Wife, a pied piperess of foreboding, and Jonathan Cullen as Alfred is a flinching spouse with something to hide.
The Jermyn intends to revive more discarded classics: a promising idea if it can attract a cast like this. Do take a stopwatch though.
Family outings to Shakespeare can be a cross to bear rather than an elevating pleasure, a thought that hit me as I shovelled my under-twelves into the car on a three-line whip to see John Dove's All's Well that Ends Well.
We hadn't done a Globe outing en masse before and I can't think why. From the strolling musicians and modern-day groundlings, it's unpompous enough for even the most antsy child.
