Fasten your belts, it's going to be a bumpy ride ...
(I'm kidding, it's really not.)
Anyway, how are we all?
Me, I think I'm still in recovery mode after Saturday's 1980s disco, hosted by my friend Julie and me; it was a success (people came, anyway, so that was nice, and what's more is they seemed to enjoy themselves, so, yay!); however, there's only so much MRD (that's Molly Ringwald Dancing to the uninitiated)
that a 40-year-old can do before reality kicks them in the flailing shins and reminds them that they're 40.
I speak, of course, of myself.
But more on that later.
This month, I have been mostly ...
Reading 📚
Moranifesto
I've had some quality public LOL moments over this book. I'd have more if I read it more frequently, I know; but sometimes train commutes are for dozin'.
Spark Joy
... I now have a small box of neatly folded carrier bags in my kitchen, and I've taken no fewer than five bulging bags of books and bits to charidee (after thanking them all for their service, obvs).
Watching 📺
All the things, darn it.
Darn you, BT Hub, for enticing me in, you minx.
The Goldbergs
If you haven't seen this series and you're in the mood for something deliciously light-hearted with an 80s vibe and references to 80s films you've known and appreciated, give it a go.
LIFE
Sweet mother of chocolate.
I like Jake Gyllenhaal. In spite of his awkward-to-spell surname. He has nice eyes and occasionally makes a semi-decent film*.
I like Rebecca "Not the X-Factor Finalist" Ferguson (and I'll admit she was the reason for giving this film another go; she at least tries to give good astronerd credibility).
It seems I also like tearing a bad, bad film apart (*yeah, Jake, this was not a highlight of your career) minute by minute, until:
SPOILER ALERT
only the two redeeming actors are left standing and even then it's a bit hit-and-miss.
Premise? A Mars mission is nearly compromised when samples taken from the planet are sent hurtling into outer space by accident (who's running the International Space Station these days? They're probably due a performance review...); the samples are recovered.
One sample appears to be a life form.
In the apparent safety of the ISS lab, one of the astronauts pokes and prods it into life. (To paraphrase 90s chanteuse Des'Ree, life... oh life, ooooohhhhh life ... Oh wait, is that why the film is called LIFE? I get it now.)
Aaah, cute, tiny floaty microscopic alien. Aaah.
The alien, known affectionately as Calvin (first error, people: don't give evil a name), grows. Quickly. Evilly.
Basically, by a series of rookie errors, the alien goes rogue and the rest of the film involves the astro-twerps trying to escape the big, bad alien squid thing.
Epic fails all round.
Case in point: Ryan Reynolds goes into the astro-lab after the original, pokey-proddy astronaut passes out when the alien wraps around his hand and crushes it to pieces.
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| {Yeah, try to kill it with FIRE. On the ISS. Good job, Ryan Reynolds. *slow clap*} |
What would you do if an alien were fondling your face?
Open your mouth?
Keep it shut?
He opens his mouth. Invites that bad boy right in.
Eejit.
Watch the film and laugh in deserved mockery over how gosh-darn stupid everyone is.
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| {Yeah, even you, nerdy-lookin' guy.} |
Grey's Anatomy
Again. From the early series; before all the musical episodes kicked off and the characters were mildly less slappable.
(Besides, it's always worth watching for Cristina Yang. Always.)
I'm currently in Denny Duquette season again.
Dear sweet lord, those dimples.
Don't die, Denny.
Oh.
He dies.
Sex Education
Of course the perennial fabulosity of Queen Gillian Anderson
and the spectacular ocular appeal of Asa Butterfield are not the only draws to this series.
(Oh, the eyyyyyyyes. 👀)
After a slightly dubious first episode-and-a-half during which you find yourself wondering, "srsly, why have they lumped a trope of an American high school in the Welsh backwaters? Y tho? Cannot. Compute",
and also why the actual era setting is so goshdarn woolly (the costumes and cars say 70s, 80s, the mobile phones say the here and now), Sex Education gains momentum and becomes the most delicious play between really rather endearing characters.
Even the school bully has depth.
The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas
In this case, the spectacular ocular appeal – and the insanely, brilliant and heart-rippingly precocious performance – of Asa Butterfield were the draws to rewatching this film which will make you angry and horrified and just a little shell-shocked.
Yes, tiny wondrous child.
Especially the moment at which young Bruno's older sister, seemingly brainwashed by her elderly tutor into becoming a hardened Hitler devotee, states, "he's trying to make the country great again".
Sound familiar?
Seeing 👀
All About Eve at the Noel Coward Theatre.
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| {Lily James and Gillian Anderson | All About Eve via here} |
OK, OK, I really, really wanted to absolutely love the play.
And I enjoyed it, I really did.
I thought Queen Gillian Anderson was marvellous (but then I'm biased and I always think she's marvellous); she did a wonderful comic-tragic turn as Margo Channing and her barbed retorts were consistently on point. Admittedly she was a little quiet to start with then picked up volume and then away she went.
I thought Lily James was rather wondrous as the eponymous Eve, scheming and deceptive, always floating around in the background, behaving like the handmaid while plotting her ascent at Margo's expense.
There were some great supporting performances as well, notably Monica Dolan and Rhashan Stone as Margo's increasingly impatient friends, Karen and Lloyd, both naively complicit in Eve's plan to overthrow Margo.
I loved the simplicity of the set, but also the way that video cameras were cleverly used at times: one was implanted into the dressing room mirror into which Margo was looking while applying or removing makeup, so her every subtle eye roll was visible to the audience. Another camera was placed in a room just out of sight to the live audience – a kitchen, or a bathroom – to deliver the action in a different room without the constant need for set changes.
There were also lots of self-conscious jokes about the theatre, and acting, and about ageing in the media, that were well placed (if not at all subtle).
However.
However.
Music (by PJ Harvey, I'm told) was used, or overused, rather, to 'push' a mood on the audience; the music dictated how we were supposed to feel as Eve first tried on one of Margo's stage costume dresses (above). This is a device that might work in film or on TV but does not work in theatre, I don't think (unless you're watching a musical); you don't need to be told through music how to feel about a scene; the performance itself should tell you that.
The camera device was overused towards the end of the play during a restaurant scene; the camera operator was literally parked in front of the 'table', his back to the audience, so you could only see the action on the large projected screen, not live, which seemed a little unfair and gratuitous, given we were there for a live performance. It was undoubtedly there to perform the role of the interfering paparazzi or to give the scene visual momentum, but in truth, it was just interfering with the performance itself at that point. Less is more, people, less is more.
And the interaction between Eve and her own protegée, Phoebe, right at the end, seemed (Ma pointed out) underrehearsed and clumsy, starting as it did with an overly long song that Lily James sang at the piano (while she has a nice enough voice, with Mamma Mia II as testament, I still don't have a clue what the song was about and why it was there except to allow time for the set to be changed).
Oh and we're pretty sure that giant silver helium balloon numerals were not a thing in the 1940s, 50s or whenever AAE is supposed to be set.
All that said, Ma and I did see a preview, and perhaps a few of these things were refined, or ironed out by the time the play officially opened.
Meeting and eating 🎂
with ...
Natalie and Gaby
at Lamingtons in Bletchingley again, for lunch that stretched out over into tea time so of course we had to avail ourselves not only of the delicious soup and sandwiches but also of the insanely scrummy cake.
Pity, eh?
My Voicerox+ Lovelies
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| {Alan and Brian had no stake in my chocolate mousse. I'm a very mean felt-mummy but, QB does not share food.} |
at Côte, for a much-needed catch-up and slightly belated birthday-yays for Ms Jenny.
Celebrating 🎉
Burns Night at The Little Brown Jug in Chiddingstone with Ma, Pa and friend Jan.
This was my initiation into Burns Night celebrations: I have no Scots blood in me that I know of, but these days, it's all about embracing and appropriating different cultures, amiright?
So I put a tartan ribbon in my ponytail and thoroughly enjoyed the festivities and revelries, which involved bagpipes being played to herald the incoming haggis (which was rather nice but I suspect it was more mince and potato than actual haggis; I'll allow as it was tasty); drams of whisky (sadly I'm still not on board with whisky much as I'd like to be all MacSophisticated) and poetry and song performed by a Scots lass of bonny voice.
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| {MacAlan and MacBrian even got involved; that's the Allan tartan they're wearing, I'll have you know.} |
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| {Pa QB "enjoying" the bagpipes...!} |
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| {Oooh, books! In a pub! I've found my happy place!} |
Singing 🎵😮
with ...
Actual John Rutter (and Ma QB).
Lemme tell you a little story.
When I was ten or so, I was in the Kent County Junior Choir.
(There's something about me and choirs. I like 'em. I'm on the periphery of choirs atm but I do like 'em.)
Anyway, digression.
We did a couple of summer-school weekend courses at Benenden School in Kent (so I like to tell people I "went" to Benenden... for all of six days in total, but I still went there); and we performed, one year, in the Queen Elizabeth Hall on the South Bank (before London freaked the becheesus out of me). This remains one of the ultimate highlights of my youff-and-early-childhood even if I can't remember very much about it now (old age, y'know).
What I do remember is that singing Rutter's For the Beauty of the Earth had, and still has, a profound effect on me.
It's beautiful, is what it is.
I hadn't heard it for decades; then, some years ago, when I was not in a good place mentally, it came back to me and stayed in my consciousness to the point whereby it might actually have 'led' me to the church, specifically St Matthew's Church, and into the choir for a time.
Needless to say, to spend a day under the indirect but very entertaining, and valuable, tutelage of the composer himself, was wonderful. He's wonderful. Humorous, intelligent, full of little anecdotes that pay homage to his impressive, and prolific, career ... It was a superlative day of song. and I had to thank the man himself for effectively being the reason I got into choral singing. Yes, I am a Rutter Fangirl and I'm not even sorry.
It was somewhat fortuitous that I even found out about this workshop; there I was, some mere weeks ago, standing at the back of the church trying to sell tickets to the 80s disco, and the hallowed name 'John Rutter' caught my beady eye, on a leaflet advertising this one-day singing session.
I expected it to be taking place somewhere up that there London town (and we know how much I "love" going up there insofar as I really don't but I go up there anyway in order to remind myself that I really don't like London).
But no. No! The day of singing was to take place in Reigate! Actual, next-town-along-from-me Reigate. Rahgate, if you will.
Ma and I promptly booked ourselves into the event, the tickets for which were sold out by the actual day. So that was lucky.
Now, also luckily for us, both Ma and I have a moderate grasp on how to read music; which is just as well because for the duration of the five-and-a-bit-hour session we were more or less thrown in the proverbial deep end starting with a warm-up that comprised singing Rutter's arrangement of Amazing Grace. Contrary to what the publicity suggested, one absolutely had to have "a bit of musicality, please"; otherwise we'd all have been completely lost.
However, the magic and the allure of Rutter's music, to me, lies in its deceptive simplicity; there's a style and fluidity to his work that is instantly recognisable, and in most instances, it's possible to pick up exactly where the piece might be going next.
In precis, these are the anthems and pieces we tackled, some in part, some in whole throughout the day.
- Amazing Grace (arr: Rutter) Listen here
- Gloria (Hmm, can't remember; may have been a Rutterly arrangement; Maaaa, can you remember?)
- Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring (Bach)
- Laudate Dominum (Mozart)
- Excerpts from Mass of the Children (Rutter)
- Hallelujah Chorus (Handel)
- Look to the Day (Rutter) Listen here
- A Flower Remembered (Rutter) Listen here
- Look at the World (Rutter) Listen here
- Who is Sylvia? (George Shearing)
- Irish Blessing (Bob Chilcott)
- The Lord Bless and Keep You (Rutter) Listen here
- Bogoroditsye Dyevo (Russian Ave Maria) (Rachmaninov)
- For the Beauty of the Earth** (Rutter) Listen here
- A Clare Benediction (Rutter) Listen here
Dancin' 💃🕺
... to the tunes of the decade that taste might have forgotten but the good people of the Parish certainly hadn't!
Looking over my photos, I really don't have very many (we were too busy dancing or decorating, or tidying!) but here's a small handful, with hooge thanks to Natalie who came along to support us too!
Hmm, what does this remind you of?!
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| {I'm Monica, obvs. Via here} |
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| {Natalie tests out the dance floor for suitability...} |
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| {Yep, it's good to go!} |
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| {Julie and me, performing our immaculately choreographed routine!} |
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| {Prince Charming, Prince Charming...!} |
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| {Cue the inevitable slow dance!} |
I'll admit, the 80s are my favourite of the decades to parody through the medium of partay. The problem, then, with organising an 80s night is that you're so involved in organising it, and making sure other people are enjoying it, that sometimes it's not possible to fully enjoy it yourself.
But I like to think we made the most of it!
Can we please take a moment for the brilliant decorations that Julie both sourced and made?! The Rubik's-cube bunting, the cassette tape bunting and spirals, the pompoms, the splatter-painted lanterns (which Natalie now has to put up in her kids' rooms they were that fabulous)?
Me, I contributed a big lot of poster paper, plus the designs of the poster and the tickets, some retro neon bunting, and even a quiz, but as there was so much dancing to be done, the quiz didn't get done. I'll be looking at a way to make it public very soon!
I'd also like to give a shout-out to everyone else who helped, by simply rocking up in their most fabulous outfits and wigs), or sorted the food, or sold tickets on the door, or helped us put out the food, tidy up afterwards and provide all the music (Sound Division, as ever, we salute you).
Link Love 🔗
Just a handful of sillies for you this month!
- Musicless Music Video {by Mario Wienerroither} | Journey // Separate Ways | via here
When man becomes gull.
- The wondrous Malinda Kathleen Reese | Translate Fails ... Sings Panic! At the Disco (I only know 'I Write Sins...' but these are always quality) | via here
- James Corden and Alicia Keys parody 'Shallow' in this rather wonderful duet that just goes to remind us how brilliant AK is | via here | with thanks to Glenda for flagging this one up for me!
- ... and finally, for no other reason than Kevin! and novelty value: Jimmy Fallon and the Backstreet Boys perform a plucky cover (ahem) of 'Everybody (Backstreet's Back)' | via here
See you next month; over and out!
qb xx
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