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Ben Whishaw as John Keats fares better, but not much.

After re-watching Cranford on ABC2, I feel compelled to write a review, if only just to spread the word on this fantastic miniseries from the BBC.

I would expect nothing less from the producers of the 1996 miniseries Pride and Prejudice, which gave every woman around the world Colin Firth as the dreamy Mr Darcy. Up until now, Pride and Prejudice has been the shining jewel in the BBC crown. However, a charming script and an ensemble of wonderful performances, suggests that the BBC might have a new crowning glory.

Instead of the usual straight forward page to screen adaptations, writer Heidi Thomas and producers Sue Birtwistle and Susie Conklin have combined three novellas by Elizabeth Gaskell- Cranford, My Lady Ludlow and Mr Harrison's Confessions- into a seamless story that enchants.


Often period dramas seem to descend into merely who marries who, but somehow Cranford manages to escape this by engaging with social issues of the time. Cranford does not shy away from the harsh realities of Victorian living. Death and illness abound. Poverty and the underprivileged lower classes are explored in what is perhaps Cranford’s most touching storyline involving a squatter’s son Harry Gregson (Alex Etel), Lady Ludlow (Francesca Annis) and the manager of her estate Mr Carter (Philip Glenister).


The emerging technology of the day is regarded with fear and suspicion. There is great disapproval of new doctor Frank Harrison’s (Simon Woods) methods. The reaction to the news that the railway is coming to Cranford tells you everything you need to know about the characters and the world in which they live.

What separates Cranford from a lot of other period dramas is the role of the women in the story. In Cranford, the woman ARE the story. Even though they are either widows or spinsters, or maybe because of it, the power of the town rests firmly in their hands. That their power is, for the most part, a moral and social power as opposed to monetary says something about both their time and ours. Out of that display of power springs a feminism that never seems out of context.

Cranford does explore the plight of the unmarried woman in Victorian times. It is dealt with both comically (Miss Pole) and with reverence (Miss Galindo). In this respect a character such as Miss Pole demonstrates idiosyncrasies that come out of her situation and the time in which she lives. In less careful hands, Miss Pole could have been an absurdity. But it is a credit to writer Heidi Thomas that she has taken such skill and care to create these characters.



Of course it wouldn’t be a period drama without a love story, and in Cranford we have two. The young blossoming romance between Dr Harrison and Sophy Hutton, the rectors daughter, is juxtaposed with the older, more staid, yet unrequited love between Miss Matty and Mr Holbrook.

I must admit that it does help that the cast list of Cranford reads as a who’s who of British Film and television.

At the core is a wonderfully warm performance from British stage actress Lisa Dillon as Miss Mary Smith, a newcomer to Cranford, who discovers the town much at the same rate as the audience does.

Imelda Staunton is a particular standout as the aforementioned idiosyncratic Miss Pole. And I have to admit I was relieved to see Judi Dench do something other than just the Judi Dench thing in her role as Miss Matty.

While it was Eileen Atkins that won the BAFTA for her role as Miss Deborah Jenkins, the moral compass of the town, my favourite performance would have be that of Francesca Annis as Lady Ludlow, who despite have the iciness of the aristocracy, is able to engage the audience’s sympathy with the recognition that the aristocracy is fast becoming obsolete.

Though I have singled out a few cast members here, it really is unfair to do so as it is an ensemble piece and everyone is terrific.

Cranford creates a wonderfully vivid portrait of Victorian living with a creativity and an elegance that we could use more of in on screen entertainment.

Should I See It?
Definitely not to be missed. I dare you not to like it.

(500) Days of Summer is a film with probably the catchiest title around. Say it out loud, but ignore the parentheses. Five-Hundred-Days-of-Summer. It rolls of the tongue quite nicely. There is something incredibly comforting about a good title. I have no doubt that the film’s success is in some part to do with its title.

But that is not all that the film has going for it. Though it is a romance, albeit a failed one, and a comedy, the film thankfully rejects the generic conventions of the Hollywood Romantic Comedy. And that is refreshing. (500) Days of Summer is proof that a love story does not have to be mindless, merely ticking the required boxes. Even more refreshing is that the whole point of the film is to recognise that sometimes (well, most of the time) romance does not end with the happily ever after Hollywood would have us believe. Actually, the film enjoys playing with precisely the dichotomy between the reality of love and the fantasy of film making. (As we will see, this is the films greatest strength and its greatest weakness).

Yet the film is incredibly engaging, thanks mostly to a wonderfully warm performance by Joseph Gordon-Levitt. There is an underdog quality about him that has the audience rooting for him right from the start.

The film revels in its ‘indie-ness,’ sometimes perhaps a little too much. However, the scene where Tom strolls down the street only to be joined by a fully fledged dancing ensemble, marching band and an animated bird ala Disney’s Snow White, is a heck of a lot of fun.

I had all but given up on the Hollywood Romantic Comedy. I resented the portrayal of neurotic/ crazy/ psychotic women who could only find happiness/ completeness/ direction by having a boyfriend/ fiancé/ husband.

But (500) Days of Summer manages to avoid this with a nice gender role reversal. It is Tom who is the believer in True Love, endlessly searching for ‘the one.’ Summer needs to be convinced.

As enjoyable as this role reversal is, it is not without its problems. Summer, in particular, is a victim of the aforementioned fantasy/ reality dynamic that characterises the film. Summer exists in Tom’s world only as a fantasy. Look no further than her plaid fifties style dresses and the ribbons in her hair for evidence of this.

The film is unable to reconcile the projection of this fantasy with the dramatic shift in her character in the final act of the film. Her shift from sceptic to romantic is underdeveloped and sits awkwardly with the rest of the film. Her explanation of this shift to Tom seems somehow unsatisfactory. Instead of understanding Summer, the audience still thinks of her as a bit of a cow who broke Tom’s heart, Part of the problem, of course is Zooey Deschanel. I never could understand the appeal of either of the Deschanel sisters. Both have beautiful blue eyes that somehow always manage to seem vacant, and a nasally voice that never exudes anything beyond monotone.

(500) Days of Summer is light without being unintelligent. Funny without being silly. Rewarding without it being served to you on a platter.

Should I See It?

Sure. Perfect Date Movie.

Poor Ben Barnes. He really can’t catch a break. His first big film The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian was considered a box office disappointment, despite making over $400 million. Less than stellar reviews for his work in Easy Virtue (except this reviewer of course) and low budget British flick Bigga Than Ben followed. And now the train wreck that is Dorian Gray.

I blame director Oliver Parker, who really has no clue how to handle the material. What should have been a dark, gripping portrait (pardon the pun) of a man’s demise turns out to be tawdry and with about as much depth as Dorian’s painting.

There are many times where the film is unintentionally camp. The film plays at being ’sexy’ and ‘dangerous’, yet the scenes (or rather montages) demonstrating Dorian’s acts of corruption come off as ridiculous. Dorian’s seduction of countless women is utterly unbelievable. Actually, it’s laughable.

The mise-en-scene doesn’t do the film any favours either. The costumes and set design of the repressed Victorian England are too bright and over the top in their use of colour to be a successful contrast with Dorian’s life of excess. The film also feels like it was shot entirely on a soundstage (I don’t know if this is so, but that’s what it feels like). There is no air, no life to the film. And in a film that is essentially about the value of life that is distracting.

The final act of the film is the only time Dorian Gray shows potential. By that point Parker has disposed of the ridiculous montages, and actually focused on the crux of the story: the repercussions of Dorian selling his soul. However, it’s all in vain because you can’t forget the horrendous mess that was the rest of the movie that it doesn’t even matter.

Not that the actors don’t try their best. But even they can’t break though the bad direction and a clunky script.

Colin Firth looks almost embarrassed to be there. Barnes tries really hard to make it work, but I could never quite grasp why young, innocent Dorian would sell his soul in the first place. I have never seen anyone drown before but I image it would be something similar to watching Rachel Hurd-Wood’s performance in this film. She is out of her depth, and basically has absolutely no idea what to do with herself except stand there all wide-eyed and pouty. Rebecca Hall’s character Emily Wotton (who was invented for the film) is nothing more than a cliché of a late Victorian/ Early Edwardian suffragette, who, despite her intelligence, still manages to fall for the charmless Dorian.

Of course, Oscar Wilde’s mediation on the value of art and the soul was always going to be difficult to translate to screen. In more artistic (again, no pun intended) hands this film could have been thrilling.

But this film is an embarrassment that I am sure Mr Barnes would like to permanently remove from his resume.

Should I See It?

Don’t bother, unless of course you are one of those types that enjoys inflicting pain on yourself.

Let me preface this review by saying I don’t watch horror films. If I wanted to be scared by what I saw on the screen I would watch the news. Let me now say I have never seen a zombie movie in my life. Finally, I have to admit that I hate blood and gore. Not even gore. Mainly blood. I have trouble sitting through medical dramas without flinching.

Now let me say that I enjoyed Zombieland. A LOT.

This funny zombie movie isn’t really about zombies. It’s actually a Road Movie using a zombie-fied apocalyptic America as its backdrop.

While I spent the first two minutes of the film wondering what on earth I had got myself into, I then realised that the squirting of the blood was intentionally excessive, and is part of the film's shtick.

Any way enough about the zombies. This is, after all, a road movie.

So, the basic premise of the film is that college student Columbus (Jesse Eisenberg) teams up with Tallahassee (Woody Harrelson) on his way to Ohio to find his parents. They run into sisters-turned-con artists Wichita (Emma Booth) and Little Rock (Abigail Breslin) and join forces.

Laughs abound, zombies die, hilarity ensues, but there is a quiet character study underpinning the film that makes it so likeable.

We first laugh at Columbus’ lifelong goal of wanting to tuck a girl’s hair behind her ear, yet we feel for him when we realise the difficulty of achieving such a simple expression of human interaction in a world of the un-dead. In fact, all of the characters are in search of humanity - Tallahassee is driven by his search for a Twinkie( for us Aussies, this is a Twinkie); Wichita wants to take Little Rock to a theme park in Los Angeles so her sister can experience a childhood away from Zombieland.

The film is a not so subtle reminder of the importance of family, however unconventional that family might be. The zombies might as well stand for a society that has become addicted to excess and cover commercialisation at the expense of humanity. It is perhaps fitting, then, that the final show down takes place at an amusement park, which are, by definition full of artifice.

I should perhaps mention the performances. Jesse Eisenberg is great; a very endearing, likable loser. the perfect narrator for this film. Woody Harrelson is too cool. Booth is unexpectedly good, and Breslin is, well, Breslin.

The film enjoys throwing out clichés and then destroying them a moment later. Every hero moment, every mushy moment, is undercut by a humour that keeps the film bouncing along.

Just make sure you ignore the “where do they get their endless supply of bullets from?” question that will nag you throughout.

Don't let the title put you off. This film is incredibly enjoyable, but probably not for those with weak stomachs (or an irrational fear of clowns).

Should I See It?

Absolutely!

I have to admit I was sceptical of Jersey Boys. Yet another Jukebox Musical? A redeeming fact was that it won the Tony Award in 2006 for Best New Musical, beating out The Colour Purple, The Drowsy Chaperone and The Wedding Singer. But, after seeing a performance clip from the Tony Awards, I was convinced that four guys standing behind microphones could not make a good musical.

Boy, am I glad to be wrong!

It’s premise, we are told in the opening by Tommy DeVito: “You ask four guys how it happened, you get four different versions.” What results is an energetic, fast paced, entertaining night at the theatre. It is full of songs you didn’t know you new.

At the centre of the show are four wonderful performances. Gareth Keegan as Frankie Valli seamlessly transforms from wide eyed innocent to strong, independent leader. Stephen Mahy is incredibly warm as a softer spoken Bob Gaudio, the writing talent that drove The Four Seasons to the top of the charts. Glaston Toft, as mostly silent Nick Massi, can certainly tell a joke. But the real star is Scott Johnson, who has the shows best role as trouble maker Tommy DeVito. He gets the best lines, the best story arc, and Johnson carries it all with a bravado you can't help but like. The chemistry between the four leads is crucial. There’s something about the four of them together that is believable.

But the magic really begins when they sing together. They blend magnificently producing a full, smooth sound. My favourite scene would be, funnily enough, the first time they sing together. There is a simplicity to the staging of “Cry for Me” that lets the vocals shine, and gets to the heart of what Jersey Boys is about: the music.

I must also give major kudos to the supporting cast. All of whom inhabited the plethora of bit parts so well, that it made it seem as though there was an endless supply of actors waiting in the wings.

As with all Jukebox Musicals, music is an imperative part of the show. However, in this case, the music is able to transcend the jukebox musical trope of music for music’s sake, and actually drive the story. The music is the plot.

Jersey Boys is often described as a documentary musical; but is a documentary of the music as well as The Four Seasons. The music acts more like a soundtrack, often used to reflect the characters emotions, rather than as an expression of that emotion as traditional musical theatre would.

However, when the music does venture to being used in the traditional musical theatre sense, it is very jarring. I am specifically re thinking of “Oh What A Night”- the first song to be explicitly used out of the “Soundtrack mode” of the rest of the show. Oh, I get the joke of "Oh What A Night" as Bob Gaudio tells of the night he loses his virginity, but it is incredibly jarring I context with the rest of the show. And for such an up tempo number it seemed incredibly under-staged.

The show is incredibly tight. It demonstrates the polish that other major musicals (*cough* Wicked *cough*) lacked. The tightness of the material and the creativity of the staging is what is behind the success of the show.

A few minor complaints: The Jersey accents were inconsistent. Every character broke accent several times. Stephen Mahy was the worst offender (even though he was doing more of a generic American accent, not a Jersey accent like the rest of the cast.

Also the balance of sound was off. Several numbers suffered from over amplification, leaving the audience struggling to hear the lead vocals.

My only other complaint was that the audience was not informed that understudy Gareth Keegan would by playing Frankie Valli. This is not meant as an insult to Mr Keegan in any way, I enjoy seeing understudies and I enjoyed his performance. I only bring this up because in the American theatres, the audience must be notified two of three ways if an understudy is performing.- 1. An understudy board, 2. A program slip, 3. An announcement prior to the commencement of the show. None of which was done by the Princess Theatre. The audience should know which performer they are seeing, especially if there is a substitution for the LEAD.

Should I See it?

Do not miss it. Oh what a night.

After seeing Dirty Rotten Scoundrels at the State Theatre last night I am surprised that the original Broadway Production was nominated for 10 Tony awards including Best Musical and Best Original Score. The songs aren’t all that catchy, and they try too hard to be funny (excepting ‘Love Is My Legs,’ which is actually genuinely funny). The real gem is the book by Jeffrey Lane which delivers laugh after laugh. But perhaps it is the rather lacklustre production from the Production Company that has me in such a state of disbelief.

I am going to say what I always say about shows done by The Production Company. They are under rehearsed and under budgeted. The budget thing doesn’t worry me so much, but the under rehearsed thing drives me mental.

Some shows pull through better than others, but unfortunately their latest offering, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, is one instance where much is left to be desired.

The Production Company is meant to be a showcase of professional musical theatre in Melbourne, but their shows always come across as something done by really good amateurs.

The tight two week rehearsal period always shows; there is always one ensemble member slightly behind the rest of the group, and specifically in the case of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, the musical numbers in Act 2 were particularly under-staged.

Dirty Rotten Scoundrels is a choreographers dream. There are plenty of big production numbers including some crazy bootscootin’. Unfortunately the choreography provided by Dana Jolly is repetitive and unimaginative. Only the tableau at the end of ‘Great Big Stuff’ is truly effective.

Performance wise it is a bit of a mixed bag.

Bille Brown does not convince as the smooth and sexy Laurence Jameson. A too tight white tuxedo jacket in the opening number certainly does him not favours. Not for a moment do you believe that these women would fawn all over him and willingly surrender thousands of dollars and jewels to him. I confess I have been a fan of Matt Hetherington since I saw him in Chapel of Chapel’s The Last 5 Years in 2006. However here he seems to be doing his best Norbert Leo Butz impression, rather than inhabiting the character. In all fairness he is fearless. His turn as Laurence’s invalid brother Ruprecht is one of the highlights of the night.

Less than impressive however is Amy Lehpamer. I don’t know who thought it was okay to cast someone in a musical that cannot act or dance. She seemed completely lost onstage. Her excessive arm movements reeked of amateur theatre, and forcing her belt meant her pitch wavered on the sustained notes, particularly in her big number ‘Here I Am.’

While Matt Hetherington, Bille Brown and Amy Lehpamer are flailing around the aforementioned under-staged act 2, the show is held together by the comedic stylings of Marina Prior and Grant Piro. However it is Chelsea Plumley, in what is really an extended cameo as a wealthy oil heiress from Oklahoma, who is the stand out.

The costumes were, well let’s be honest, hideous. The dresses looked like they were made from left over fabric, not constructed specifically for the show. To match the dresses were equally hideous wigs in various shades of bubblegum pink, lavender and spearmint green. Maybe they spent the entire budget on the chandeliers and six half grown palm trees that were manoeuvred around the stage by the ensemble.

My final rant: I really don’t understand why The Production Company insist on having the Orchestra onstage. If they were at the back of the stage, perhaps I could understand. But positioning them downstage right means the actually performance space is an awkward shape for the cast (and set) to manipulate.

Should I see it?

Don’t Bother. Dirty Rotten Scoundrels is a Dirty Rotten disappointment.

A show all about wealth and sophistication comes across as cheap and tacky.