London theater (and museums) II

---

MONDAY/TUESDAY: Kenneth Branagh’s new theatre company put a show in repertory with A Winter’s Tale since Judi Dench was apparently unwilling to do eight shows a week. A reasonable demand when you’ve passed 80. So we went to a set of two rather slight Terrence Rattigan one-acts, All On Her Own and Harlequinade, with Zoe Wanamaker taking Judi Dench’s place in the ensemble.



All On Her Own, written as a radio drama, was a short one-woman (Wanamaker) show about a widow exploring her scotch-inspired angst following her husband’s apparent suicide. The main dish, Harlequinade, by contrast, was a farce about a theater company putting on Shakespeare. All very meta and fun, but I don’t think either of them was weighty enough to inspire me to say more about them.



Instead, I’ll say a few things about museums. I visited the Wallace Collection the first day I was here, and as I wandered through its rooms I was prepared to be snarky about what an impressive collection of mediocre art it had. But then I reached the great hall and discovered that it really does have impressive paintings: Hals, Rembrandt, Velasquez, and other early masters. And not just their cast-offs either. A number of lovely paintings once you wade through the rest. (It seems that the Wallaces, like Isabel Gardner, insisted that paintings remain in situ.)



But mediocre paintings are on my mind again after spending the afternoon at the Tate Britain. Can I confess that I was unimpressed by their collection of Turners? Some reputations aren’t improved by seeing more of the work. I found many of the finished paintings in the collection quite dull, with lifeless pudgy figures and unimaginative composition. Many of the works were unfinished, and I found myself wondering how much Turner’s unfinished work has become fetishized. Is it profound simply because we're left to read something into it? I can lose myself in wonder gazing at his late, great canvases, but much of this collection felt second-rate in one of two ways: either it was overly literal or it was suggestive but incomplete. None of these came close to realizing the grandeur of Rain, Steam and Speed or the Slave Ship or the Fighting Temeraire.



Also at the Tate was a special exhibit on Britain and Empire, which was quite fascinating. It featured a number of pieces in really questionable taste—cultural appropriation, anybody?—but in a context that pushed you to think about that rather significant part of British history. The elephant in the room, you might say. I’m not sure it goes far enough, though, in exploring the imperial themes. Having just let the Elgin marbles and the magnificent Assyrian lion hunts at the British Museum wash over me yesterday, I would like more engagement with the question of where these art works belong, and to whom.



It’s now Tuesday evening and I’m off to the Menier Chocolate Factory (yes, that’s a small theater) to see a revival of Funny Girl with Sheridan Smith. It’s been sold out since about an hour after tickets became available and is already scheduled to transfer to the West End.





More tomorrow.

---

Comments

[Geoff Burgess]

appropriate
Hi Lisa, Just catching up with your blog. I like reading about your encounters and reflections about cultural appropriation. Makes me think about my travels, past and future. geoff