National Theatre Wales Iliad

So on the 6am drive back to Cardiff from Llanelli yesterday morning, after watching the all-night marathon of National Theatre Wales’ Iliad, one of the people to whom I’d offered a ride was wondering about the suitability of this marathon for spectators who had hitherto not known Homer’s Iliad. Would the all-night retelling (of Christopher…

An Oak Tree

D.D and I had our first date at Tim Crouch’s The Author. It wasn’t exactly the best choice on my part, but we’ve been talking about it on-and-off since (both appalling date and enduring play) so something must have worked. And we were recalling this burgeoning, Tim Crouch inspired, ‘romance’ yesterday, for a friend and…

Corbyn, Consensus and Martyr

I’m a bit worried about this new liberal consensus. Those important agents of socialisation and mediators of our political reality, Twitter and Facebook, seem to be having a blanket effect on liberal discourse. Everyone, that is, everyone I know, is doing and saying the same thing: jezwecan. But when we talk about social or cultural…

Dismaland and ‘Entry Level’ Anarchism

I like a bit of elitism, but sometimes it can go too far. Jonathan Jones, Renaissance art fan, isn’t the best arbiter of what’s happening at Weston, but, yet, see his review. He starts with a joke about the town’s condition, followed by a whinge on his own ennui at Dismaland – now fully operational at The…

The Skriker, prescience and ‘The Northern Powerhouse’

What is it about The Skriker? It’s a few weeks since I saw Sarah Frankcom’s (now closed) version at the Manchester Royal Exchange, but it’s still resonating. The weekend before I saw it, I read Susannah Clapp’s review, which started with how ‘extraordinary prescient’ it was. I did kind-of wonder how this phantasmagorical, twenty-year-old play,…

Touring New Work at the Buxton Fringe Festival

Summer, for academics, can be miserable. Campus is alien and empty, and, thanks to all those instagrammed sunsets, researching feels like lunacy and your own out-of-offices come with some kind of biblical wrath. This summer is the first I’ve decided not to go away; I’ve resolutely stuck it out in Gloucestershire trying to write and…