Review: Bill Murray, Jan Vogler and Friends – New Worlds

Being the cultural trashfire of a human being that I am it means I am oblivious to major events that I’d love to attend until way after they’ve occurred. Having grown up on a heavy diet of Bill Murray films in my youth to the slightly leaner output of his Wes Anderson offerings I was genuinely delighted to be asked by my editor if I’d like to cover this event. While I am closer in character to Murray’s famous grumpy cynic in Groundhog Day I’d like to think I’m only an ice sculpture away from that facade melting away.

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Review: Hilary Woods – Colt

There’s something wonderful about stumbling across an artist who resonates with your own particular musical taste. I remember in the early nineties when I stumbled across a Mary Beats Jane album that I still love today or took a punt on a weird looking record called Portrait of an American Family by Marilyn Manson simply because it was produced by Trent Reznor from Nine Inch Nails. While not as distinct the opening of Hilary Wood’s Colt already feels iconic to me. Reminiscent of a time that’s passed but familiar; if Twin Peaks was real Hilary Woods would be playing in the Bang Bang Bar. Indeed the song Black Rainbow recalls Lynch vividly, not least because the opening bars echo the famous Badalamenti theme from the show.

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Review: Deadpool 2

Having shrugged my way through the first Deadpool film I wasn’t exactly desperate to see the follow up. Deadpool for me is just a sweary version of Chandler from Friends. Having hit cinemas so quickly after Infinity War it was strange to see Josh Brolin in another key role, this time playing Cable, another impossible-to-kill character with a time-changing device.

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Review: Gut

What is trust? Do you trust you family? Your friends? How about your partner’s friends? How do we retain it or rebuild that trust if it’s lost? The new play Gut from Frances Poet is all about trust – or gut instinct – and that’s explored here in painful detail.

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Review: Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde

Two men stare from a balcony at eye height with myself in the Dress Circle at King’s Theatre. They speak fluttery Victorian prose against a shadowy backdrop of street lights and yellow window panes. It’s a strange opening because there’s no fanfare – the lights go down and it starts. From the off it’s apparent it’s a wordy play where your concentration is going to be required. I’m not sure what I expected, maybe something akin to a pantomime, with a rowdy Phil Daniels blurting out Parklife to get cheap laughs.

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