“It’s not really a Sofie Hagen show unless it ends with me going hurghfhfhhfh,” is the only the thing Hagen says that lets slip a smidgen of her timid side during her articulate and powerful show, Dead Baby Frog. Her throat is hoarse but her voice and its message remain clear throughout.Read More
Even experienced from 500 miles away in the local cosiness of the Glasgow Film Theatre, it’s as if an angel has burst through our ceiling and is addressing us with her holy message. Such is the visceral ferocity of the National Theatre’s production of Tony Kushner’s Pulitzer-winning play, Angels In America. It’s wincingly relevant, bar the lack of smartphones and the internet; simply swap the name of the incumbent president and play a short round of spot the difference.Read More
Though I have had it for as long as I can remember, I have no idea if it has a name. The intense discomfort from experiencing something seasonal at another time of year, typically manifesting itself in a rage when I see Easter eggs in supermarkets in the first week of February, or even having to switch the radio station when a song where the title features ‘Monday’ comes on any day other than Monday.Read More
An offshoot of the Witsherface comedy collective, Who Fed Benny? is a sketch troupe comprising of Michele Gallagher, Scarlett Mack, Lisa Keddie and Lynnie Carson. Drawing comparisons in comedy is not always favourable but there’s a similar mix of the Scottish surrealism as in Burnistoun, along with the smart silliness of Smack the Pony, to be found here.Read More
I do not speak Japanese. I wish I did. Because then maybe I would have a chance of understanding Haruki Murakami’s intentions with his latest collection of short stories, Men Without Women, as perhaps it is just a major case of lost in translation.Read More
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