Something For The Weekend

Pan's Labyrinth...

We packed him up with a teddy bear and an extra cushion for comfort, and sent our resident movie buff Andy Whitehead, off to see the creepiest fairytale in decades...

When you think of fairy tales, the likes of Snow White, Cinderella and Peter Pan might cross your mind; but in Pan's Labyrinth, the new film by Guillermo del Toro (Hellboy, Blade II), the fairies couldn't be further from that stereotypical "Tinkerbell". Instead of glimmering and beautiful entities of the light, del Toro's versions are dark and twisted creatures, with the ability to transform into praying mantis-esque bugs.

But this 'fairy tale gone bad' doesn't stop there.  Not by a long way. Set in the post-war repression of Franco's Spain, Pan's Labyrinth has a unique and captivative style that can only be loosly compared to a mixture of Jim Henson's cult epic "Mirrormask" and Tim Burton's "Edward Scissorhands", perhaps with a bit of the game "Escape to Castle Wolfenstien" thrown in for good measure. (The lads will know what I mean!) It's a tale of good verses evil... bravery and adventure... deceit and betrayal; passion and sacrifice and it encapsulates some the most interesting, though disturbing, creatures that you're ever likely to find in a film.

Pan, one of the principle characters, is a fawn at one with nature; his lower half totally covered in branches and leaves.  But in spite of his good intentions of returning the princess to the throne, he comes across as a scary and malicious creature. The darkest character who dwells in the Labyrinth however, is The Pale Man (pictured here). As we're introduced to him, he sits at the head of a table - still, quiet and terrifying! Behind him are images on the wall of him devouring live children while they scream and pray for his mercy. Nice!

His face reminds me of that of a stingray - featureless but menacing, his stature powerful and brutal. In front of him sit two eyeballs on a plate, and when he finally rises they're inserted into stigmata like holes in the palms of his hands, creating a truly unique and disturbing character that would give a lesser man nightmares, (ahem).

However dark the creatures in the Labyrinth though, nothing compares to Sergi López's brutal monster, that is Captain Vidal; a man that tortures, kills in cold blood, and beats his wife and step child. López plays him wonderfully and captures the cold and sinister fascist perfectly.

The main ray of light though comes from Ofelia, played by 12 year old child superstar, Ivama Baquero. Her portayal of innocence, beauty and love is quite captivating as she sheds her fear of the dangers that lie both within and outside of the Labyrinth. The film centers around her character and the fact that the creatures in this weird world believe that she is the returned princess from their realm; but to prove that she is, and not just a mortal, she has to perform three tasks.  And here lies basis for our film. The fantasy aside though, this is a film about fascism, and the fact that fascism corrupts innocence.

All in all, I enjoyed the film, but I wouldn't recommend it for the fainthearted or children, unless you can stomach brutal killings, seeing a leg being saw off, watching a man's mouth being slit from ear to ear, and then seeing him sew it up again. If you can't handle scary creatures of a warped imagination and some generally horrifying images of a fascist post-war environment, you might want to skip this one.

Also, as the film is in Spanish, it's subtitled, but a lot of the time the acting is so strong that you barely notice, unless you have an incident like mine where "Mr Inconsiderate Six Foot Four Man" decided he wanted to sit bolt upright part way through the film, obscuring my view of a lot of the text.

I'd have to say that I wouldn't rush to the cinema to see Pan's Labyrinth, but I will definitely be getting it on DVD when it comes out, and I can already see this becoming a major cult classic in underground circles.

Andy Whitehead

Book your theatre tickets now

get your skates on...

Did you see the movie King Kong, where the great beast takes his girl to the ice-rink in Central Park and glides his huge furry ass across the lake with the grace of a fairy, and she realises that although he’s a big, moody, stinking old ape-freak, he’s actually got a heart of gold? OK so Hollywood might be a little far-fetched, but that doesn’t mean a little play on the ice won’t bring out your softer side this winter – if a crash and fall doesn’t cause your grizzly beast to emerge first.

There are plenty of movie-style settings in London if it’s gliding round rinks with your beloved you’re looking forward to, and over here at lastminute.com, we’ve put them all together for easy access. Lucky you!

First up is the Tower of London, which we recommend for beginners. Well, if you’re gonna spend the majority of your session on your bum, you might as well look up at an admirable little slice of English history while you’re at it.  Not far from Tower Hill tube this might be a little touristy, but you can’t beat if for a real Londony culture treat. The café will be serving up hot drinks and snacks, but remember, don’t drink and glide, folks….

Book Tower of London skating tickets for £10 here. Or book with dinner at Pizza Express for £19.95

Now in it’s 4th year, Hampton Court Palace have got the skating thing sussed, and added to the charm of gliding arm in arm (or dragging your reluctant mate round in circles as she clings to the barrier) is the temptation of hot chocolate, warm mince pies and mulled wine. You really can’t beat the setting either – you can almost see Henry VIII whizzing round his pond in his frumpy frock and tights before lopping another wife’s head off with an ice skate. Lovely.

Book Hampton Court Palace skating tickets for £9.50 here. Or book with lunch at Pizza Express for £19.95

We love the The Greenwich Ice Rink at the Old Royal Naval College, as its landscaped grounds on the banks of the Thames have you thinking you’re miles away from the hustle and bustle of some of the other sites. You might not avoid the screaming kids (it’s a bit of a family spot, this one) but what’s Christmas without the children anyway? Aaaah, sniff. Check out the Queen’s House and the Greenwich Observatory, and have a cheeky snog or a festive snack from the River Views Cafe as you gaze at the beautiful lights twinkling from Canary Wharf. A real “we heart London” moment.

Book Greenwich skating tickets for £9.50 here. Or book with lunch at Pizza Express for £19.95

It might encourage topless bathers and nude dippers in the summer, but you can be sure that all wobbly bits of man and womanhood are well covered in winter at the Hampstead Heath Ice Rink. As Parliament Hill Fields opens for a six week season we can’t wait to pad ourselves up with nine jumpers and a hat and get some moves in. Oh, if you need to pad your insides too, there are plenty of scrumptious snacks, plus mulled wine (gotta love it) at the Fields Café.

Book Hampstead Heath skating tickets for £9.50 here

See more fabulous ice skating options here

a few of our favourite things...

Cream-coloured ponies and crisp apple strudels. Doorbells and sleighbells and schnitzel with noodles…  A few of your favourite things, are they?  Really?

Whoever listed doorbells as one of their favourite things has quite clearly never sat through the abominable temp job I once had of simply buzzing people into a building, (the button was too far away from the phone for the receptionist to reach without missing a call. Stupid). And sleighbells? Please. They only come about once every year…. every November, right after Halloween. And by the time Christmas Day is upon us we’re so sick of sleighbells we want to pour petrol over the nearest jingling mode of transport and set it ablaze via a beer fart and a blowtorch. And don’t even get me started on ponies, cream-coloured or otherwise. I was never allowed one and I still haven’t forgiven my daddy.

Anyway, I suppose in spite of its dated absurdity, The Sound of Music is and always will be one of those things that surpasses the ridiculous metaphors which make up its soundtrack, and renders you revelling only in a feeling of joy.  It’s the story as much as the songs, of course – when the hills were alive and the nuns got the guys, and seven children, when placed in one room, did not feel the urge to bind, torment and torture a power figure with a fork and a homemade shoe bomb. Those were the days.

In the latest adaptation, now showing at the London Palladium, we’re treated to the talented, if a little earnest Connie Fisher, who “solved a problem like Maria” in a televised, nationwide search for a brand new lead. During the TV contest, Connie tugged at our heartstrings with tear-stained cheeks and close up shots of her beloved grandma, who first introduced Miss Fisher to the movie when she was little and has long since dreamed of seeing her perform it on stage. (I wonder if I put my gran on the telly and got her to tell everyone how I’d run naked round the garden until I was given a chocolate biscuit, Nestle would sponsor all my dreams, too?)  Still, talent show winner or not, it does seem as though Connie’s got what it takes. She performs the role as effortlessly as someone who’s watched the film every day for 20 years should perform it, really. In fact, so identical is her act,… so alike are her vocals, that she probably eats Julie Andrews pills for breakfast and dances her way barefoot up every hill she encounters. (Annoying cow).

Although surpassed by Grease in the realms of musical greatness, The Sound of Music, when released in 1965, became the most successful Hollywood musical of all time.  So it’s no surprise here that the cast chosen to bring the legend to life in London’s most famous theatre are top notch performers.  Sir Webber would have it no other way.  Even the kids, although screaming “STAGE SCHOOL!!!” are a joy to watch, with their endearing enthusiasm for every over-acted, unnecessarily embellished sentence. Of course, powerhouse Lesley Garrett is immaculate as Mother Abbess, and even if you’re a kid who’s never seen the film and doesn’t know the story, you couldn’t fail to be touched when she belts out ‘Climb every Mountain’ with all the muscle one would expect from a sexually repressed nun with no other outlet.  Incredible.

The Sound of Music will undoubtedly bring the house down and Connie Fisher will deservedly springboard from her BBC beginnings, all the way to Broadway.  When it comes to crowd pleasing, with lavish sets, a sing-along soundtrack and enough dark habits to make Kate Moss look like an angel, this is one West End show “I have confidence” in completely.  - Becky Wicks

Book your Sound of Music tickets now

Caroline or Change

What’s it like?
Caroline or Change is set in Louisiana in 1963 and resounds with the swinging soul and upbeat funk of the neighbouring decades. It’s a small-scale domestic story with cleverly observed characters, a good helping of uplifting humour and songs which will raise the wee hairs on the back of your neck.

What’s it about?
It’s a simple story of the fraught triangular relationship between a stepmother, son and their maid. While Caroline, our struggling heroine, tries to keep her children on the pittance she earns as a maid, Rose, the new lady of the house, attempts to teach her careless stepson, Noah, the value of money. Though the story is literally “small change” it digs deep into issues of race, human rights and delicately portrays an emotional journey following bereavement.

Who’s in it?
Tonya Pinkins brings her critically acclaimed portrayal of Caroline from Broadway to the South Bank. You only have to listen to her powerful but silky-smooth singing voice to understand why she has been received so well in the role. She’s also a fabulous actress; her depiction of Caroline is punchy but extremely sensitive.
Anna Francolini plays the uptight but vulnerable Rose and Greg Bernstein, playing the spoilt son Noah, will surprise you with the maturity of both his singing voice and his acting abilities.

Who’d enjoy it?
If you love gospel, funk and the soulful laments of the Deep South you’ll be in musical heaven. It’s an aural feast of outstanding singing performances – like chocolate-fudge brownies for your ears.

What should I look for?
The singing inanimate objects. Caroline spends her days in the basement laundry room with the company of her buxom soul-sister washer, broad-bellied bass-booming dryer and a glamorous chorus-line of a radio. It sounds completely farcical but it works so well and is a perfect example of the warmth and humour of the performance.

Verdict
You’ll never look at your coppers in the same way again. Despite not having a complex plot or driving love interest, Caroline or Change is moving and completely absorbing. If you’re not on your guard you might just find yourself teary-eyed by the end.

Sara Sha'ath

Buy tickets for Caroline or Change - currently showing at the National Theatre.

Newsletter team extreme makeover...

Two collagen lips and a liposuctioned thigh please. No, not a sick and twisted KFC menu - just the newsletter ladies' wish list after another day in the office left us feeling less women, more beasts. Throw in a side order of boob job and a dash of tummy tuck and we might feel half human.

Ok, so the extreme makeover might be a tad far-fetched - we like to think we're not total mingers, but we were still in desperate need of a few tweaks. With hope in our hearts we signed ourselves up for an afternoon in the care of new<id, who offered us all a haircut, makeover and photo shoot in the comfort of their luxurious Soho studios.

So off we all trekked one foggy Tuesday afternoon, complete with hangovers and unsightly mascara blotches - a gift from the relentless London rain. I admit I even had muffin crumbs in my hair after a good Benjy's breakfast went astray. Lovely.

We were welcomed by smiling, (and extremely good looking) staff at the new >id headquarters - ushered in from the elements and treated instantly with sparkling glasses of Bucks Fizz. How did they know? A few hairs of the old dog were highly appreciated, let me tell you.

The haircuts were first. Just a trim for us - the Mohawks would have lost appeal after the 'fun' photo shoot, although the temptation for a perm was great - did you know they're coming back into fashion?! We practically fell asleep during the head-massages but stayed awake long enough to polish off several more bottles of Bucks Fizz and advise the stylists on required volume for the curls in our hair.

Once adequate bounce had been achieved, it was downstairs to the make-up room, where I had the pleasure of chatting to a gorgeous French artist about her exciting freelance work for fashion models, movie stars and the like. Wow. My eyes were as big as saucers, my skin like a porcelain doll, my lashes as thick as I felt in the head after my 23rd Bucks Fizz...this was getting better and better...

Next it was nails. Sonia and Verity's were glistening visions of sparkly smoothness, but I unfortunately have few nails that aren't chipped and I smudged my varnish twice trying to get my mobile phone out of my handbag. Doh. Luckily the lady just smiled and re-painted them, obviously used to such foolish catastrophes. Looking at them I vowed never to bite them again. Well, at least for the rest of the day.

Once complete, and after the 37th glass of Bucks Fizz, we made it into the photo studio, where the young (and trés trés hot) photographer tried his best to ignore the hurricane of bras, trousers, stockings and wine glasses that was whirling its way around him. We went through four outfit changes each and all initial embarrassment at draping ourselves over a chair, humping a wooden blind or curling round a banister with a sultry pout soon faded. Posing dramatically, Verity's hunger for capturing cleavage enhancing arm positions was insatiable, and Sonia relished the chance to snap herself in every boyfriend's wet-dream shot - clutching a pair of machine guns against a camouflage backdrop. Eat your heart out Lara Croft, newsletter tomb raiders reign supreme.

About five hours and 97 bottles of Bucks Fizz later we were finally ushered into a room to inspect the photos, most of which made us look amazing. Not a bitten nail or Benjy's muffin crumb in sight. We ordered a few each to pin up at our desks, just to remind us (and our dubious colleagues) that we can indeed look beautiful.

And you know what - when we got them delivered to the office a few days later, all neatly bound inside a lovely portfolio of model-like quality, it became apparent that what Max-Factor couldn't fix, Photoshop certainly could.

Get 2 for the price of 1 on a deluxe makeover here, just £39

Remember, remember, the 5th of November…

We love it – the oooh’s and aaah’s that inevitably follow every splash of colour that lights our dreary London sky. Bonfire night is that one occasion where it’s ok to light a big fire in a public place and laugh at a burning man. It’s also ok if you want to stuff your face with toffee apples and weave candyfloss through your hair, although you might look a bit weird.

Anyway, the places we reckon you should be gracing with your best woolly hat and scarf ensemble this weekend are as follows:

Alexandra Palace. Saturday. FREE
This is the full monty of firework displays and they’ve even got an ice-rink so you can glide hand in hand with your lover, or just fall over and break something, (no more mulled wine for you). There’s a funfair from 4.30pm and the fireworks start at 7.30, so make sure you get your fill of hotdogs before the bangs and whooshes begin - you’ll need them to keep you warm.
Alexandra Palace Way. 020 8365 2121.
Tube: Wood Green

Battersea Park. Saturday. £5 (under 10’s free)
They’re skipping on the funfair this year but that might mean the kids will go elsewhere.  Can’t be a bad bet to turn up with that special someone for a cosy night in the open in front of the fire. Awwww.  There’ll be lots of stalls for your usual fireside accessories – mostly food, obviously, but the Battersea brigade usually put on a good show. Fireworks start at 8pm. You can’t miss ‘em, if you look up…
Battersea Park, Albert Bridge Road. 020 8871 7534.
Battersea Park Rail

Victoria Park. Sunday. FREE
They’re promising “The Emperor and the Tiger” – a theatrical display of fireworks right in the heart of one of London’s nicest parks. Why not model your new mittens as you stroll around the lake, or have a whizz on the waltzers at the funfair? Don’t eat too many chips first though. No one wants to wear your dinner.
Victoria Park, Old Ford Road. 020 7364 7907.
Tube: Bethnal Green

scares in the city...

From those urban myths you first heard on the playground, to the real life horrors that happen every day on a global scale, it seems that everyone’s got a scary story they can share when the subject comes up...

As one of the world’s most historical continents, Europe is full of myths and legends. Ghosts, ghouls, goblins and tales of unsolved mysteries have been fireside fodder for centuries, but at this time of year, Europe seems just that little bit extra scary.  We’ve taken a look into some of the most haunted cities on the map, just in case you feel like a bit of ghostbusting.

The Scottish capital Edinburgh is perhaps one of the spookiest cities in Europe, with its cobbled paths, narrow alleys and antiquated buildings. Its infamous castle stands on the site of an ancient volcano, from which a series of secret tunnels head down the Royal Mile. Legend has it that when the tunnels were discovered, a man went down with a pipe and played it as he walked, so that people could hear where he was. Half way through, the piping stopped. The man had simply vanished! Apparently the piper’s ghost still haunts the tunnels and occasionally, you can hear his music in the castle.

The castle’s dungeons were scientifically “proven” to be haunted in 2001, when a team of researchers studied the reactions of people in various parts.  The visitors who had no clue of the dungeon’s reputation still reported feelings of uneasiness in exactly the spots that were allegedly haunted.

First appearing in historical records as early as the 8th Century, there’s a lot about Krakow you won’t read in the generic city guidebooks. Many of the ghost stories surrounding this pretty Polish city revolve around Wawel Hill and the castle and cathedral that still stand there.  This is the spot where Krakow’s Kings were both crowned and buried and is reputedly haunted by a group of dead kings who gather in one of the many underground chambers for a conference on Christmas Eve every year.  You might have heard of Krakow’s dragon, who’s statue stands by the Vistula river at the foot of its legendary lair.  Folklore states the dragon is actually the embellished memory of a pagan serpent goddess who lived in a cave within the hill.  It’s true that there are a host of mysterious pagan mounds throughout the city. The next time you’re climbing one, watch out for fire-breathing dragons, and the ghost of the King Sigismund’s jester, who’s hat bells can still be heard jiggling in the night.  Scared yet?

Beneath the streets of Paris, the bustling French capital, lie the remains of over seven million Parisians, their souls long departed but their bones left sleeping on display. We’re talking the catacombs, where people were stored after Paris’s cemeteries became too crowded. The eerie remains form the walls of an extensive walking passage and if you’ve got the nerve you can visit next time you’re in town. They call it the Empire of the Dead. Apparently it’s practically impossible to take a decent photograph down there, and those naughty people who’ve tried to touch the skulls have witnessed strange blue lights and sudden drops in temperature. Only for the brave, we tell you.

Another spot for your ghost-watching tour-de-France is the Place de l’Opera, the theatre infamous for inspiring the musical ‘The Phantom of the Opera’.  Built in 1875 the building is said to have its very own phantom woman, who committed suicide when her man scarpered in favour of a younger model. Workers, locals and tourists alike have reported seeing her ghost roaming the streets around the opera house.

The fairytale city of Prague is known to be one of the most haunted cities in Europe, so if you’ve just stocked up on ectoplasm remover, don’t be afraid to stop in.  Legend has it that the medical facility of Karolinium is haunted by a little  bony man, who in life, was wanted by a University professor for his diddy skeleton.  Thinking he would by far outlive the professor he sold his bones for 30 crowns, but ironically died that night in a drunken brawl.  His skeleton, naturally, went to the professor and apparently his two-foot tall ghost haunts the Karolinium, begging passers-by for change so he can buy his bones back.  Spine chilling stuff right?  Mind you though, if a trip to Prague is on the agenda, after a couple of shots of absinthe you’ll be spooking yourself stupid wherever you end up.

However you spend Halloween this year, just remember that sometimes, the things that go bump in the night aren’t always your flatmates falling up the stairs. - Becky Wicks

Go ghosthunting in Edinburgh, Krakow, Paris and Prague from just £98 with lastminute.com

Dirty Dancing - worth the wait?

Cheesier than a cauldron full of four-cheese fondue, if you loved the movie, (I mean really loved the movie), you’ll soak it up like a fresh, crusty baguette from Sainsburys.  It’s the film, basically, word for word, scene by scene, unravelling before your Hungry Eyes and spinning with it some of the hottest, leanest, fittest bodies you’ve ever seen. The skin-tight leotard modelled by the troubled Penny is enough to make a girl weep into her bucket of chicken and wonder where she’s going wrong. 

All the best bits are there and as the fans explode in fits of giggles at the scenes that probably once made them cry with pre-teen, hormonal lusting, it’s apparent that no matter how corny the dialogue, how cheesy the tunes, Dirty Dancing is a legend.

Set in Catskills holiday camp, Kellermans, we follow ordinary girl Baby as she becomes entwined with the entertainment staff, after carrying that infamous watermelon.  (We always knew fruit was good for us). Losing her virginity and finding a hunky, funky first love was never part of her plan (yeah, right), but she can hardly refuse swaggering, sexy Johnny, when he teaches her to dance in ways that would make her beloved daddy weep. There are sub-plots galore but let’s face it, all us ladies care about is seeing Johnny with his top off.

There’s a surprising lack of celebrity presence, considering how many fans would (and probably did) pay through the roof for tickets. But the show has sold on its name alone, with forums and chatrooms buzzing in anticipation months before the London show had even been cast.  It seemed that whoever was set to star, the audience would flock for the flashbacks alone; for those moments jumping on the sofa, clutching a hairbrush and singing along, wearing leggings, the first time they were cool.  They seem to have gone for an almost mirror image of Jennifer Grey’s Baby, played by a wholesome Georgina Rich and complete with appalling perm.  She even sounds like Baby, which is weird.

Former ballet dancer Josef Brown – he of “body to make grown women quiver” throws himself into the role of Johnny.  And although his questionable American accent oozes desperate, earnest pantomime cheese, no one gives a crap when he ditches the shirt and thrusts his groin at the audience in the glare of a perfectly placed spotlight. Come to mummy.

It's pretty hard not to laugh when the log lowers in from the left, right down in front of a projected lake. Well, how else were they supposed to do “that scene?”  The part where Baby and Jonny practice dancing away from camp is actually really cute and they get through the field and water scenes using similar projections, clever lighting and some smoke. You’ll have to see it to understand!  Also, look out for the pause before Baby pleads “Jonny” - a moment which sends the audience into hysterics, just because the same line in the movie is so utterly cringe-worthy.

No matter what the press hounds think when they get their grubby paws on tickets, sales for Dirty Dancing have already exceeded £6 million, making it the biggest box office advance for any show in West End history. The guy next to me said it all when he turned and announced – “There was a ticket tout outside, selling two for £50 each. You know you’ve got a hit on your hands when you see a tout at a preview.” It’s true. Dirty Dancing opens its doors to the public one month after word’s already spread about preview performances and still, it’s the hottest ticket in town. 

Yes it’s cheesy, yes, most blokes will hate it, (go with your girls, ladies), and yes, it’s taken a god-awful 80s movie and made an even more puke-inducing show out of it.  But for some strange reason, you’ll still have the time of your life.

By Becky Wicks

A Moon for the Misbegotten

Seeing Hollywood stars on the London stage has long been de  rigueur, but more often than not the casting reeks of theatres desperate for packed houses and an A-list actor desperate for credibility. So if you’re going to spend your hard-earned cash on further lining diamond-encrusted pockets, it might as well be the best in the business.

Kevin Spacey is of course not your average rent-a-name. Arguably, it was his performance in Eugene O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh at the Old Vic that defined his talent as blazingly unique in a sea of blandness some time before American Beauty won him an Oscar. It’s little surprise then that Spacey returns to O’Neill with A Moon for the Misbegotten, at a time when the very critics who celebrated his West End residency a decade ago are questioning his creative stewardship of this beautiful venue.

O’Neill’s play is also timely in its Arthur Miller-esque examination of the American Dream, playing with matters of illusion and reality with devastating power. Set in a ramshackle Connecticut farm in the 1920s, Phil Hogan (a craggy Colm Meaney) is an Irish immigrant tenant farmer, struggling to hold on to his family and his land. Abandoned by his three sons, his daughter Josie (Eve Best) keeps him afloat while he concocts paranoid plots in fear of Kevin Spacey’s city slicker landlord Tyrone selling his land.

With a fantastically simple and iconic set of striking blue day and atmospheric night, the story unveils a tragically unrequited love between Josie, a virgin who clouds her profound insecurity in lewd talk of imagined fumblings, and the ex Broadway ham Tyrone, a charmer fatally flawed by his reaction to his mother’s death, drowning himself in bourbon to take away his personal shame. Whilst Spacey’s trademark splenetic breakdown in the second half is electrifying, Eve Best steals the great man’s thunder with a performance of fragile power, struggling to hold it together for Tyrone whilst in utter anguish herself. Throughout, her physical ungainliness perfectly pitches the inner doubt of a beautiful woman brought up in the company of whiskey-soaked masculinity.

Whilst dark, A Moon for the Misbegotten is far from unremitting. The script crackles with black humour and unveils itself as a love story between two hopeless souls, destined to pretend to be something they’re not until they met each other. Finally, it seems that Spacey’s found a play that transcends his own celebrity. And it just happens to be the man who helped make it.

Dan Pilkington

Buy tickets for A Moon for the Misbegotten

we know you've got Hungry Eyes...

As we wait in eager anticipation for the West End production of the hit movie, we can but twirl our way through the long, hard weeks, dreaming of watermelons and breathing things like "JONNY" in husky tones.  It's difficult, we know.  But fear not, we haven't got too long to wait now.  The time of our lives is almost upon us, (yay!)

But, will it be as good as the movie?  What will Kellermans look like on stage?  Will Baby's nose be that wonky?  Will her sister still look like a horse?  How will they do the water scene - you know - the one where hot-bodied Jonny lifted her up in the lake and all our pre-teen, angst ridden hearts broke just a little in the knowledge that no matter how many times we practiced "the lift", we would never progress to the nearby lake, and even if we did, we'd get our tutu wrapped round a shopping trolley and end up in Casualty.  Oh and of course, we also knew that before we could get anywhere near the lake-lifting-stage, we'd have to partner up with  pimpled-faced Paul from Year 8 who had no muscles and a bad case of halitosis. Hardly a Swayzee, really.  Sometimes it's better to dream.

While we're dreaming of opening night, (a week tomorrow!) on October 24th, we can while away the hours with Richard Dempsey's Dirty Dancing Diary Richard plays Neil Kellerman so he's in a prime position to give us the goss on all the backstage action. If it's anything like the behind-the-scenes naughtiness of Kellerman's summer camp, we're in for a few surprises.

And if you haven't got your tickets yet, (gasp - what happened?), you'd better book 'em up quick. Lastminute.com have still got some
available from February. 

Well,... good things come to those who wait. Just look, Baby got Jonny, didn't she...