Theatrical Delights: Off-West end Holmesian theatre adaptation of A Study in Scarlet continues the game with grace

A light fog settles on Brixton Hill Road as I walk along the pavement towards home. I had just come back from Brixton Road, Baker Street, and Utah--in 1881.

An adaptation of the first Holmes story, A Study in Scarlet from Tacit Theatre at the Southwark Playhouse, could go anywhere. Sitting in the comfy, worn, brown couches I sit with a couple friends relaxing, I wonder how this small, south London theatre will stage the consulting detective. As with my previous experience in the realm of small, independent theatres there was no need to be concerned. Conan Doyle's first Holmes' story was adapted and with creativity, originality, and reverence for the story, while the performances were new and familiar at the same time. Holmes and Watson, once again, leapt off the page in true theatrical force with amazing staging, sound, story, and performances.

When I walk into the the small theatre with general seating, I could have been walking into 221B itself. Holmes and Watson's chairs were neatly placed next to each other with proper places for pipes, chemistry experiments, violins and a spattering of the appropriate wall coverings.

221B in the Southwark Playhouse

The intimate setting gives a hint as to how the audience will be able to feel perfectly involved with what is going on in the story whether we are in the barren Utah or Lauriston Gardens. The performers are so close one can be often sitting right next to them, or inches away as Watson gazed out of the windows contemplating his new-found flatmate's powers of deduction. The sound?  Music, with musical instruments played by all the actors! Yes, almost every actor was also a musician.  Holmes, of course, played a mean violin along with Mrs. Hudson.  Jefferson Hope on a stringed instrument, Lestrade on a clarinet, and various other musical instruments rounding out the original musical score. A score that gives both a soundtrack to the play, but also adds the right amount of ambiance sound at the ideal time.

Story.  Adapting a story needs to be done with as much care and thought as writing an original piece. As I read A Study in Scarlet for the first time, I found myself enthralled at the story happening at Baker Street and Lauriston Gardens, but had a hard time with the chunk that took place in the wilds of the American West.  The adapters for this version of Conan Doyle's story, Greg Freeman and Lila Whelan, took the stories' "American experience" and English bits and intertwined them allowing the action in America to guide the story in London.

Staging of 221B

Finally--performance.  The small seven-player ensemble of this piece made 14 different characters and various stage changes seem easy.  With many actors playing multiple roles and going from American accents to British ones, from Holmes and Watson to Lestrade and Gregson, Conan Doyle's characters kept their original characterisation while allowing their humour or amazement and growing comaraderie to shine in the forefront.   A younger Holmes and Watson (played by actors Philip Benjamin and Edward Cartwright, respectively) captured the individual, and well-recognised, traits needed to portray the pair--something that didn't really surprise me after learning that Benjamin had a scene with Sherlock in series one and Cartwright played the detective himself in a documentary on the forensic specialties of Holmes.  Conan Doyle's representatives of Scotland Yard in London as well as the villans in America were portrayed with two other actors with fun and reverance, and even the role of Jefferson Hope, the executor of revenge, was portrayed by the same performer who was the local constable.

With the first adventure complete, we see Holmes and Watson sitting in Baker Street when the latter contemplates the end of the adventure;  Holmes, all knowing, tells him that it's not the end, but only the beginning!

I have seem many wonderful plays in the big theatres of the West-End, but the discovery of the smaller, independent theatres in the north and south of town has been a delight.  Two plays in small theatres (yes, both with Holmesian stories) allows the audience to  experience theatre outside of assigned seating; it allows one to sit right in Baker Street and join Holmes and Watson on their adventure as opposed to on the fringe.  I left the theatre with a high leaving me wanting to talk more about the play, the story, the detective, not wanting to return to the 21st Century for the moment.

Online Hamlet: An Elizabethian theatre-goer in Shakespeare's Globe

To my delight the great playwright of our day, Mr. William Shakespeare, has written another play! This one is called Hamlet; a tragedy we are all told.  The great actor, Richard Burbage, has once again taken the starring role in this piece. I find him to be quite a talented player and am fascinated to see what he is able to do with Mr. Shakespeare's new work.  My companion does not, sadly, see this piece in a favourable light.  According to her, it appears to be very similar to M. Thomas Kyd's The Spanish Tragedy, which has recently made rounds in the various theatres.  'How?!' I argue.  'A story of revenge, a murder, and even a character named Horatio' begins an answer.  I was determined to judge for myself and I am quite content with that decision.

The night of the play we crowded into the dirty and muddy grounds in front of the stage.  It has just recently rained and though it is not the most comfortable means, it is certainly an excellent way to view the players: tete a tete, almost.  I look around at the other merchants and nobles in the seats above looking down upon us as if we are nothing but lice on a dog, but I take no heed.  I am here to see Mr. Burbage and Shakespeare's thrilling new play.  The play begins.  Watchmen upon the watch see a ghost...the ghost of the murdered King!  The drums sound and the ghost appears unwilling to speak unless it is his son, the Prince Hamlet.  From there another tale of revenge, madness (real or played, I know not), duality, and even despair and confusion all play their part in this tale.

We, the audience, applauded Burbage, the rest of the players, and Shakespeare himself for this amazing tale of a young prince and his troubled state. ver, depending on the popularity of this play (and I do think it is one of Mr. Shakespeare's best) I wonder how or indeed if an aged Burbage would take this role.  The young Burbage of two and thirty years managed to convince me of his university ties. My companion still is not completely convinced of it's differences from Kyd's work, I will endeavour to change their mind.  Even the young lad cast as Ophelia put in a great deal of care in conveying the love that was forming for Hamlet and the madness that had overcome her.  At a moment, it appeared as Burbage was speaking directly to me as he contemplated life and death...'To be or not be..." that will indeed be the question.

A year in review: 2013. Discovery of new delights

It was December in London 2012 and on the side of the red, double-decker bus passed me by was the face of Martin Freeman as Bilbo Baggins in an advertisement of The Hobbit.  Fast-forward to December 2013, the same, now familiar red, double-deckers pass by with Sir Ian McKellan and a gaggle of dwarves behind him advertising the second installment of this fantasy film.  I stopped, agog, looking at it go by...I had been here a year. Never before have I been able to, or have, mark the passage of time by one distinct thing.  Yes, a thing. That red bus and the faces of Freeman and McKellan urging me to see a movie. And, thus, began the reflection.

Ok, so this is the time of year we may become reflective.  Look upon the past year, make resolutions for the next year.  Never have I been inclined to do such things.  Now, at the end 2013, I find myself having that sense of reflection. Why? Well, I have had an eventful year, but I have had eventful years in the past.  Whatever factors have made me reflective, 2013 has been a year worthy of note, of reflection.  Yes, there have been some stressful, bad times, but overall quite memorable and delightful.

As I have mentioned, for an Anglophile, living in the UK (London in particular) can be like hitting the jackpot, and in my case it certainly was. The first few months in a small flat with a not-so-chatty or likable flatmate, forced me out every weekend to walk about and discover my new home.

The Southbank of the Thames on my walk to work

Walks along rivers have always been a favourite thing of mine--the Willamette, le Rhone et la Soane, the Charles--and having the Thames right at my doorstep (just about literally at that time) was a small blessing during those early months. Walks along the Southbank of the Thames allowed me to discover little gems like Battersea Park, and the Albert Embankment up to Shakespeare's Globe.  Public transportation also became my friend as I learned bus routes and Tube lines.

Regent's Park on a sunny day

 Beginning from Victoria station, I discovered places such as Regent's Park/Primrose Hill and Hampstead Heath, two of best places in all of London, and rest of city bits I now navigate with utter confidence.

Hampstead Heath in the Fall

 I continue to discover new areas (Couch End and Kensington, for example), but the favs are still favs and often revisited.



London has also allowed my fancy as a theatre-goer to flourish and grow.  I had seen great London performances of Frankenstein and The Curious Incident in the Night Time via the National Theatre Live (NT Live) in the US and was able to review both plays, however, it is a different experience all together seeing the actual piece.  From my first attendance of Uncle Vanya at the Vaudeville Theatre on The Strand, I was hooked.  Seeing the likes of actors like Ken Stott and Laura Carmichal to Mark Gatiss and Tom Hiddleston on stage rather than on film or TV cannot be matched.  One realizes the talent and work that goes into the craft in a stage performance, and it is a priviledge to be in a city where not only new and growing actors, but established, well-known ones grace the stage.  It was indeed my intention to write reviews of each excellent play I have seen over the past year, but alas, life has gotten in the way.  There aren't enough hours in the day. Therefore, reviews for the likes of plays such as The Tempest, MacBeth, As You Like It, Jeeves and Wooster: Perfect Nonsense, Coriolanus, and Richard II, have been delayed.

Union Music Store in Lewes

I've also expanded my musical taste and found new sounds to delight in.  The emerging and expanding, I might call it, genres of folk, country and americana, has also taken hold in England.  I discovered a fantastic little club in Camden called the Green Note, where they feature live jazz, world, blues and folk music.  I have enjoyed many a gig there and have discovered the wonderful sounds of Hatful of Rain, Jamie Freeman Agreement, The Self Help Group, Maz O'Conner, and Emily Baker. 

Last, but certainly not least, is the wonderful new people I have met in 2013 stemming from joining the Sherlock Holmes Society of London.  This society has a range of Holmes fans spanning from those who have been Holmesians for years to recent Sherlockians, and hitting many generations and age ranges: the power of the great detective to span several generations and hundreds of years.  How many figures, fictional or not, can do that?!  Society gatherings have allowed me to meet some

Travels along the Thames with the Sherlock Holmes Society of London

wonderful people who's interest and passion for all things Holmesian is as large (sometimes larger) than my own.

2013 has definitely been a memorable year.  Here's to 2014 being just as, and with any luck more, eventful and memorable as the previous one!

Next year, will be the third (and last) Hobbit advertisements to appear on the side of the London buses.  I wonder what kind of delightful things I will have done and discovered by then.  Bring it on!

Debating delights: Are we The Fifth Estate? (review)

How much should we know? Is there a line between transparency and privacy? Can there be too much information?

Fifth Estate poster in the London Underground

The opening titles to the film The Fifth Estate take the viewer through the evolution of communication. It begins with stone and a tool and takes us through all forms of communication from the written letter, printed page, telegraph, a typewriter,  wireless radio, television, computers, the internet and everything else in between.  This was a title sequence I wasn't expecting and for a moment I thought I was in the wrong screening room until I saw the name I was expecting to see...in all honesty, the initial reason I went to see the film was because one of the main characters, website founder Julian Assange, was being interpreted by Benedict Cumberbatch, and in any other circumstance this reason alone would be a good enough reason for me to see something.  However, coming to that decision for this film was something in itself.  In the end, I was glad that I made the one I did.

The media frenzy that surrounded the release, and indeed making, of the film is no surprise.  It is timely.  It depicts a story of real people who made a significant change to our society. And, it is a story that continues.

I had seen the stories on the news and heard about information that whistleblowers provided to the website, Wikileaks; however, those things can seem a world away from an average Jane, like me.  We are all consumed by our own world: our work, our family, our friends, our interests, our problems.  Therefore, the in and outs of this phenomena were foreign to me, so before rushing out to see a movie with one of my favourite actors I took a few steps that I normally wouldn't before seeing a film.

First, I read and paid attention to reviews.  Those I read seemed to be saying the same thing: brilliant acting  by Cumberbatch (I already expected that), but a weak script and overall story.  Hmmm, I thought, a story is very important to me maybe it won't be worth it.  However, as interviews began making their way to the press, it was clear one of the main characters in the story itself, Assange, was against the film and had communicated this to the actor about to portray him. This also made me stop and think...why would one of the main figures be against the story?  Again, listening to both sides made the difference.  As much as the argument against the movie was convincing, Cumberbatch's response and reason for doing it was just as intriguing and viable argument, in my mind.  So, with mixed reviews from critics and two opposing thoughts from the man and his portrayer, I went to see it.

Many reviews have compared The Fifth Estate, for better or worse, to The Social Network. Having not seen that movie, I cannot make that comparison.  The stories, in general, appear to be similar so I can see where the comparison comes to play, but I can't comment directly.  The Fifth Estate is a visually impressive film.  The use of colour and lightening makes it a really pretty film. This combined with the quick-paced editing, text popping up on the screen (a la BBC Sherlock to me), and an equally fast paced, thumping, memorable soundtrack makes for an enjoyable movie-going experience.  As mentioned, the performances from all players is perhaps the strongest part of the film. Cumberbatch and Daniel Bruhl give commanding performances in the role of the two major characters.  Even smaller roles such as Guardian journalists played by Dan Stevens (of Downton Abbey fame), Peter Capaldi (best known for The Thick of It and soon taking the role of the 12th Doctor Who), and David Thewlis (Harry Potter's Professor Lupin) make brief, but memorable contributions.  But, yes, the story itself felt disjointed and lumpy. Even though the lovely on-screen text continually shows the viewer where they are in the world--from London to Africa to Berlin and Liege--the story brings in bits of other pieces such as Manning and US government officials, but leaves the viewer hanging...perhaps because these pieces are still unfinished...as is the whole story.  

In the end, The Fifth Estate is a film--a story from one particular perspective and interpreted by actors. It is not a documentary about Wikileaks.  It isn't a biopic about Julian Assange.  These are important factors to keep in mind.  I didn't go into it expecting to learn all there was about Wikileaks or its founder.  I went to see a film with excellent actors, commenting on a timely and important subject in our society: that is what I got. It is a film worth seeing, but you have to know what you want to get from it because it can go both ways--much like many of the important issues in our society.  I certainly got me thinking...

Dartmoor Delights (Part 2): Indeed, I will say more.

Hound Tor from afar.

Hound Tor
Guide books outlined walks and sights, but I found, when the guides ended up being a tad confusing to me, my own explorations and walks suited just as well.  I wandered about the rock forms, down to the remains of a medieval settlement and through the flora.

Medieval settlement remains with Hound Tor in the distance.

The formations at Hound Tor seemed to jut out from every direction.  The wind continued to blow and the occasional shower came down.  Yes, this is England.  In refuge from the wind and rain, I found shelter among the rocks and decide to read a bit from that famous story and am transported to the 19th Century.

Shelter from the wind and rain and a bit of reading.

"'It is a wonderful place, the moor', said he, looking round over the undulating downs, large green rollers with crests of jagged granite foaming up into fantastic surges.  'You never tire of the moor.  You cannot think the wonderful secrets which it contains.  It is so vast and so barren, and so mysterious'". --The Hound of the Baskervilles

Granite formations on Hound Tor.

"Large green rollers" on Dartmoor

Hayne Downs and Bowerman's Nose
Still the winds blows on day three, as it seems to always blow on my visit to the moor, but this time it was much gentler like a low voice saying hello rather than screaming by ones ears.  My rambles today took me through the tors and formations on Hayne Downs.

Fading morning midst on the formations near Hayne Downs.

 I arrived early enough to see the midst settling upon the highest points, fighting with the sun that eventually came out.  I sat, taking in the view.  I loved it.  Peaceful. Calm.  Beautiful.  Nothing but some moor sheep and an early-risen family out for their walk as well.

I spot Bowerman's Nose, a well-known moor landmark/formation.

Bowerman's Nose in the distance. 

 A legend behind the granite formation tells of a hunter that lived among the moors and came across a group of witches as he and his hounds were hunting a hare, interrupting the ceremony.  As punishment, the next time they hunted upon the moor one witch pretended to be a hare and led them into one of the deadly mires, swamp-like areas, on the moor finally turning them all into stone.

Bowerman's Nose--
see the lovely nose?

The hunter sits on Hayne Down, his large nose prominent; his hounds are among the granite formations on Hound Tor that can resemble dogs.

Midst and sun battle for the day.

As the sun came out in the afternoon, I travelled to a little hamlet in the moor, Widecombe-in-the-Moor, for the local cider and some wifi connection; I did want to get away from the technology, but couldn't do it.  Like Moretonhampton, the town church dates back many centuries and still seems to be the center of life in the small community.  The sun was now out and tourists, like myself, were abound scuttling through the little shops, lounging in the park, and eating in the pubs.  It was a warm and beautiful day after the midst lifted, but in England the weather is an ever-changing thing as evident by the clouds started to gather once again...

Church in Widecombe-in-the-Moor.

Walking around Hayne Downs, I was able to see the remains of another local moor-related story.  I visited Jay's Grave.  While it is only a small mound and headstone, the local story says it is the marking of  the remains of a local girl who committed suicide in the 19th century.  While no one is sure if the story is true, there are always fresh flowers on the grave and no one has ever claimed to know who keeps the grave adorned. There have also been reports of a dark shadow or figure near the grave during the dusk hours of the day...kind of spooky to think about it. More detail on this local story: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jay%27s_Grave.

Princetown and the attempt to reach Grimpen Mire (or FoxTor Mire):

A view of Princetown from the pathway.

One of the beauties of Dartmoor is its diversity.  One will find woodlands and streams, Tors, rolling hills, and vast expanses of barren, flat, grassy plains...that is the only way I can find to describe the bit of the moor that I explored on this day.  It began from the town of Princetown, an interesting place in itself for this Conan Doyle fan.

The hotel, now a tourist office and local museum, where
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is said to have stayed during
his time in Princetown. 

  This town certainly had to inspire bits of his work as it is said that he stayed in this building, which is now a tourist centre and local museum.  The city has been the site of a prison since Conan Doyle's time and remains so today.  This fact could have inspired the addition of the wandering prisoner out on the moor who was, at one point, mistaken for Sir Henry Baskerville.

I began my walk from this town and the goal of finding the inspiration for the infamous Grimpen Mire, an area called Fox Tor Mire.  After walking for what seemed to be many, but likely was only a few, miles I sat down to take in the view, the expanse, the quiet.  My solitude was only occasionally interrupted by groups of hikers embarking on the same trail I did, but getting quite further.

The quiet was almost deafening.  I strained my ears for the slightest sound over the remote landscape of this part of Dartmoor.  It seemed like a great grassy desert where, I imagine, if the fog were a little less abundant, I could see for miles.  My plan of heading out to Fox Tor Mires, the inspiration for Grimpen Mires, did not come to fruition this time.  It will have to be for the next time.

Quite in contrast to the previous days, when I searched through the formations for a bit of solitude among the the tour groups and visiting families, this area gives one a feeling of such solitude that the occasional school group or hiker on the path was a welcome sight and chance to say 'hello'.  Not even the wind whistles past my head on this day, simply more of a gentle whisper. Once again some inspiration hits me:

From boulders, to hills and woodlands galore,
That is the beauty that fills Dartmoor.

Old granite quarries, tin-work and medieval stones,
That is the history that fills Dartmoor.

A Hound, a doctor and his friend Mr. Holmes,
Those and many more stories are full of  Dartmoor.

Sheep, cows, and ponies roam free as before,
Free from confinement out on Dartmoor.

The trip back takes me past moorland ponies grazing in the grass.  I notice a mare with its foal and a little further what seemed like an adolescent romping in the grass.  A time for fun and games.

A mare and its foal grazing on Dartmoor

I will return to one of the greatest delights that England has to offer: Dartmoor.  Though perhaps not on my own next time.  Five days

exploring such an amazing place was so delightful that it needs to be shared and continually rediscovered in good company.

Postbridge-Dartmoor