They weren't 50! Foul play!
Apart from that dissapointing math mistake, this was one of the most enjoyable evenings out of this summer. Coming and leaving Shepherd's Bush is nowhere as exciting -or death-defying- as our Stafford journey in search of the perfect Hamlet, but it's always a thrill to go to the Green and enjoy the variety of its sights. Not to mention that the Bush is our preferred space in London.
The hook in this case was Ralf Little. Someone who has rubbed shoulders with John Simm and Paddy Considine in that veritable masterpiece -as much as we detest the label, in this case it's necessary- that is 24 Hour Party People, clearly deserved our visit to the neighbourhood. Or maybe we just like Mancunians in our theatrical evenings.
Mister Little did not dissapoint. In fact, we vowed to follow him wherever his career takes him -which, fortunately, won't be more "Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps" because we have to draw a line somewhere. The play itself was delighfully entertaining and unbashedly commercial. We laughed until we cried. We cheered. We demanded a West End transfer - the world at large needs to know the wonders of its bestiality-themed musical number. One of many musical numbers. All of them very enjoyable.
The cast was splendid; long-limbed Ralf Little finally has grown into a likeable leading man. And a funny one, too. Claire Keelan was specially touching when one of the break-up stories turned sour via drug addiction.
Yes, yes, all terribly predictable and meainstream. But also, a very good night in the theatre.
Also, Lucy Kirkwood was part of the writing credits of the play, and we are seriously thinking about becoming part of her fanbase, if she has any, ever since we were suitably enthused by her "Tinderbox" a couple of months ago.
And dear me, I need to learn to write with few adverbs.
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