Easter Madness

According to a BusinessWeek article on London's fabulous new architecture, "more is going on now than at any time since the Victorians". The article is short, but interesting, covering the various new commercial and residential projects that abound throughout the city. The population is rising, for the first time in decades, and is expected to exceed 8 million by 2016.

Lots of people also means lots of things to do, and that sums up this busy last two weeks. I caught one of the last performances of Arthur Miller's penultimate play Resurrection Blues. On paper, the Old Vic production seemed like a sure bet, written by the incomparable Miller, directed by Robert Altman, and starring Matthew Modine and Neve Campbell, in addition to many more competent actors (whose names may not sell tickets quite like Modine and Campbell). The story concerns the ruling elite in a corrupt third-world nation, visited by an American television crew who wish to film the government-ordered crucifixion of a local man who claims to be the son of God. The performances were good, the script (unexpectedly) funny, and yet something didn't quite gel. I was totally let down by the third act, but that's been happening a lot of late. I thought it was just me, but I've since learnt there is an old saying in the theatre, according to Joan Collins, at least, that "there are no good third acts". She cites herself as an exception!

Last night I took the Thameslink to Croydon (cue: shudder), to see Joan Collins' one-woman show. When telling friends about the show, I joked that poor Joan, at 73, can no longer book a central London theatre. Her performance made me eat every last word. Within minutes of arriving on stage, she announced that she learnt to do the splits at age 6, and can still do it. Did we want to see? Yes, we cheered... and so she did, dropping to the floor within seconds, legs akimbo like a Barbie doll that's about to snap. I was gob-smacked. I can't do the splits at 31... then again, my legs haven't had quite as much leg-opening practice. The format of the show was a personal tour through Ms Collins' fabulous, hard-working, and mostly-charmed life. She has remarkable comic ability, which I think rarely shows in her body of film and television work. When given a humorour line, the context often comes off as camp or clever, or perhaps just a little too clever, rather than just bloody funny, as she was in person. And who would have thought that she is such a competent impressionist? I was in hysterics for most of the night. Like when she recounted how, on the occasion of Joan's fourth divorce, Elizabeth Taylor sent a note which read "I'm still ahead by three!".

During my brief stay in her (distant) presence, it seemed to me that the private Joan Collins is a far more complex person than the public persona we see. My primary evidence is the her non-verbal communication with someone waiting off-stage, in the wings (presumably, husband Percy). These quick asides followed the risky jokes that paid off, especially when Collins obviously strayed from the script, and provided the production with a warm and earthy feel. And then there were the discreet notes, sitting on a lectern, almost never referred to, but always there, just in case. These vulnerable and down-to-earth touches made the show a delight, because the persona of "Joan Collins" became more real, and more accessible to me. In the space of a few hours, I was won over, and am now a confirmed fan.

Not far removed from the glamour and quick wit of Ms Collins is one of my oldest - yet youngest - friends from Brisbane, Tony. He arrived on Easter Saturday for one whirlwind week in London. We crammed so much into that week that it seemed like Tony had been here for weeks (or months), but in a good way, of course! I met some of Tony's friends, one of whom very generously took us to some fab restaurants: the Gordon Ramsay group's Maze (tapas delight, and quite affordable) and Hakkasan (for outstanding Chinese). And in between we managed to hit some bars and clubs to do more than enough damage for some time... at least until this weekend's bank holiday. ;-)