It seems to me, that for the sake of our mental health, we need to stop talking endlessly about the coronavirus and associated subjects. I understand that there’s not a lot else happening at the moment but I think we have to find something.
I’ve noticed that, over the weekend, Mirinda gets very down. This is because she spends a lot of weekend time chatting on Skype to various friends and family. The subjects covered are almost exclusively coronavirus dominated.
It’s obviously very important to keep in touch, and a digital contact is better than none, but the brain has a habit of focusing on the awful things. It’s like there’s a monster inside all of us that requires feeding and its favourite food is fear. How about we start starving the monster and discuss better, happier things.
Like the fact that each week we have a brilliant National Theatre production to watch. And this week’s offering even included a monster of its own.
Above is the amazing Jonny Lee Miller as Frankenstein’s monster in the eponymous play. It was an amazing performance in an incredible production. Gripping, original, absolutely brilliant.
It was directed by Danny Boyle and opened in 2011 with Miller and Benedict Cumberbatch alternating playing the monster and Frankenstein on different nights. I wasn’t that impressed with Cumberbatch. I didn’t feel he was very different to other parts he plays. Miller, on the other hand, was sublime.
Actually, the last thing I saw Miller in was Emma (he played Knightly) and the two parts couldn’t be further apart. Cumberbatch, on the other hand, seemed to be channelling Sherlock into his crazed Doctor F. It would have been very interesting to see his Monster.
The rest of the cast was, on the whole, very good (apart from Dr F’s father who I felt was rather wooden) but the real star, setting aside Miller, was the overall design. It was just extraordinary.
Lights, sound, revolves, fake lakes, a steam-punk train, each element gave a magnificent assault on the senses. The egg from which the Monster ‘hatched’ in the opening sequence. The little farm house where the blind scholar lived. The shack in the far north of Scotland. Everything was beautifully created. We lived in this crazy Wollstonecraft world for two hours and were thoroughly entertained.
Mirinda read the original for her book group so I asked her how accurate this adaptation was. She said it was pretty much perfect, though differently ordered in places. It was no Karloff version, that’s for sure.
Truly a performance to remember. Thank you, National Theatre, it almost makes up for not going to the theatre for real.
What was very real was our roast this week. Chez Gaz decided to try something Syrian with cauliflower. It’s roasted in oil for 30 minutes then is tossed in a mix of cumin, extra virgin olive oil, garlic and salt. It was voted as being exceptionally good.
The lamb wasn’t half bad either.
Possibly the highlight of the day, however, was reading a tweet sent by the Buffoon of the West. He appears to have gone all Nostradamus on us.
What Stupid Thing Did Donald Trump Say Today
I don’t think that needs any comment at all.