Category Archives: Reviews

Lawyers, literature and Grays Inn Court

paul croft as egeon in antic disposition-s the comedy of errors

Paul Croft as Egeon in Antic Disposition’s A Comedy of Errors at Gray’s Inn

London: noisy, crowded, constantly swept along with the tide of history. Except for a few pockets of tranquility that can take you back in time to the childhood of Charles Dickens, or even further back, to the first productions of Shakespeare’s plays.

The Inns of Court still function today as professional barristers’ associations, and all barristers in England and Wales must belong to one of them. Lincoln’s Inn, Middle Temple, Inner Temple and Gray’s Inn, however, are more than dry institutions. Step through their gates (if you can find them – you’ll need to know the hidden gateways in their walls) and you find yourself in quiet squares of historical buildings from the 16th to the 19th century, mere feet away from bustling Holburn or Fleet Street.

The 13th century Gray’s Inn has a strong literary pedigree. Slip through a passageway next to the Cittie of Yorke pub, and you’re in Grays’ Inn’s South Square, opposite the Elizabethan Gray’s Inn Hall. The hall was the venue for the first recorded performance of Shakespeare’s early comedy, The Comedy of Errors, at Christmas 1594.

Last week I was in the audience for a brilliant new production of the play, by Antic Disposition, in the same elegantly-panelled hall. I think Shakespeare would have enjoyed the frenetic, slapstick pace that the performers gave this tricky play, not to mention the accomplished live jazz band. The portrait of Elizabeth I’s spymaster Francis Walsingham, looking down with unamused disapproval from the wall, was a reminder that not all members of the Inn appreciated the ‘base and common fellows’ who made up the itinerant acting companies of the day.

Outside, across South Square, is the window of the office where the 15-year-old Charles Dickens sat, his sharp eyes no doubt picking up everything and noting it down, for later use in the many depictions of lawyers in his novels.

The Inn has a wonderful garden with lawns and roses, which you can glimpse if you take the other entrance, off Jockey Fields. The Inn has been unfortunate in the loss of several buildings to fire and bombing, including the 13th century chapel and the 16th century library. However, it retains an atmosphere of secluded antiquity which makes it well worth a visit.

Grays’ Inn is taking part in Open House London on September 18, with tours including the Hall and Library.

Photo: Scott Rylander



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Caught by the River Thames


The Thames from Putney Bridge

The first Caught by the River Thames festival at Fulham Palace was conceived as “a cross between a vicar’s tea party and an Anti-Nazi League gig,” according to one of the organisers. So what washed up on the river bank?

There was a strong literary/nature writing theme to the weekend. Some of my favourite authors, including Iain Sinclair and Melissa Harrison, talked waterways, wilderness and seasons.

Sinclair spoke of the choice Londoners face between following the river upstream, to the riparian villages of Cookham and Swan Upping, or downriver to the ‘Heart of Darkness’ in the estuary. Conrad or Jerome K Jerome – two impossibly different visions of the Thames.

I loved Harrison’s description of how seasons in a temperate country like the UK help us understand and keep track of time – ‘The seasons are to time as a metronome is to music.’ The rhythm of the year, blackberries to bare branches, cherry blossom to courgette flowers, provides some reassurance of our place in the dizzying march of time.

More potential dizzying from Andy Hamilton, who kicked off Sunday with a masterclass in creating booze for free, talking us through his experiments in infusing, brewing and making alcoholic concoctions from the most amazing ingredients. I’m planning to have a go at his 18-botanical gin, made in half an hour during his talk, although I may give the kelp martini a miss.

Chill-out time meant a retreat to snooze under an apple tree in the bosky and beautiful  Walled Garden, complete with impressive vegetable patch, bee hives and spectacular dahlias.

There was music, as befits a festival, from the trippy North African Imarhan, to the final stomping session from headliners Super Furry Animals. I loved both of these, as well as the impressively funky Llareggub Brass Band and Ramones-wannabees Temples. I’m not a Beth Orton fan, though, and Saturday night’s doom rockers Low were not a high point for me either. My main disappointment was being unable to see poet/rapper Kate Tempest perform, as she’d been scheduled for a room far too small for the numbers who wanted to see her.

The unexpected highlight was watching music journalist Lauren Laverne interview the wildlife broadcaster and campaigner Chris Packham on the main stage, while we sat and basked in the blazing sunshine. The interview was surprisingly personal, given that several hundred people were watching, with Chris describing how his Asperger’s syndrome affected the way he perceived the natural world. He described his early forays into natural history, his forthright methods of getting a job at the BBC, and encouraged us not to run away if faced by a predator. I’ll remember that, next time I’m set upon by a baboon.

He also had a ‘rant’ about the plight of the hen harrier, asking us all to sign a petition to prompt a parliamentary debate about the detrimental effect of driven grouse moors on the numbers of these birds of prey. I’ll finish with a link to the petition – I signed when I got home. I hope you will consider doing so too: Ban Driven Grouse Shooting.


Bees enjoying the dahlias


Melissa Harrison


Iain Sinclair

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Midsummer madness at the Globe


Zubin Varla as Oberon and Meow Meow as Titania

I saw this show two days after the UK voted to leave the EU, in what seemed to me a fit of midsummer madness. I was with a Belgian friend who was now wondering how long she will be able to live in lovely London – and whether she was still welcome. We were both in serious need of cheering up.

Boy, did the Globe deliver. This was one sexy, swaggering, joyous carnival of theatre. A Midsummer Night’s Dream is one of Shakespeare’s dafter plots. It requires an embrace of the absurd and fantastical, a massive willingness to suspend disbelief. I mean, fairies. Love potions. Amateur actors sprouting donkey’s heads, with scant regard for evolutionary theory. Richard Dawkins would hate it.

I’ve seen minimalist productions that expect you to do that work on your own, with only a few leotards and hanging drapes to help your imagination. This production, Emma Rice’s first as artistic director of Shakespeare’s Globe, could be described as maximalist.

It doesn’t feel like a play, so much as a musical show, a celebration rich with comedy, dance and song. Other voices, from John Donne to David Bowie, are conscripted to the irreverent mix. The energy fizzes, the costumes dazzle, the wit sparkles. The farcical elements are played to the max, wringing every drop of comedy from Titania’s lust for Bottom, and the lovers’ misplaced longing for each other. The energy is earthy and raw, the fairies elemental rather than ethereal. Titania (the outstanding Meow Meow) and Oberon are wilful as well as powerful, dishevelled, funny and magnificent by turns.

The much-commented gender swap from Helena to Helenus could have been gimmicky, but Ankur Bahl gave the part a heartbroken tenderness that makes good sense of the lovers’ relationships. Anjana Vasan was a charmingly lusty Hermia, Katy Owen a beguiling Puck. By the end of the show, when the puzzles had been resolved, the play had been played out and every Jack had his Jill (or his Jack), we were swept up into a dazzling finale of bhangra that rocked us out of our seats.

It was the sort of thing London does best. Shakespeare, our greatest national treasure, can well take anything that multi-ethnic, pan-sexual London can thrown at him. Indeed, his work dazzles all the brighter for the alchemy.

In a strange contrast, I was in Stratford-on-Avon three days later, sipping tea in the Hathaway tea shop in the heart of this Midlands English town. Stratford has been preserved for the nation as a genteel Shakespeare-land, with more Elizabethan houses than you can shake a stick at. Shakespeare might have recognised the buildings, but I bet he’d have recognised the excitement of the Globe as a truer legacy of his genius.

Photo: Steve Tanner.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream, directed by Emma Rice, is at Shakespeare’s Globe until 11 September 2016.

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Artist, feminist, style icon: Winifred Knights

Winifred Knights, Self-portrait sketching at a table, c. 1916.jpg

Winifred Knights, Self-portrait sketching at a table, c 1916, private collection. Copywright: The Estate of Winifred Knights.

Her gaze is level, unwavering; her concentration absolute. Her dark hair is drawn back, Mona Lisa style, from a neat centre-parting. In this accomplished, early self-portrait, she knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s about to beat the men at their own game.

This is Winifred Knights, an artist I confess I’d not even heard of before Dulwich Picture Gallery’s retrospective of her work opened. Her genre and style – “decorative painting”, inspired by early Renaissance frescos – have been resolutely out of fashion.

This exhibition, then, is a rediscovery. Knights’ draughtsmanship is both delicate and bold, especially in her lovely portraits of her sisters, mother and aunt (the doughty early feminist campaigner Millicent Murby, whose views influenced much of Knights’ work). Her large-scale paintings are both modern and timeless, carefully planned though many preparatory drawings included in the exhibition, with a subtle and clever use of colour.

Knights was a star pupil at the Slade School of Fine Art in Bloomsbury, from 1915 to 1919, under the tutelage of Henry Tonks, then at the British School in Rome. Her subjects ranged from reinterpreted Biblical scenes (two of which, The Deluge and The Marriage at Cana, are highlights of the exhibition) to intimate portraits and conversation pieces showing agricultural or industrial workers engaged in work or discussion.

In addition to substantial artistic success, she cut an elegant figure. Her distinctive dress style was entirely her own, based on her own designs of homespun long cloaks, round-necked bodices, full skirts and ribboned shoes. Ignoring the fashion of the day, she dressed to express her artistic vision. She won scholarships, travelled to Rome and across Italy, had relationships with seriously handsome men (judging by their portraits) and picked up lucrative commissions. I’m more than a little envious.

And yet her life was blighted by war. She witnessed a disastrous explosion in a munitions factory in West Ham that triggered a breakdown in 1917, then was so distressed by the outbreak of the second world war that she almost gave up painting. Only two years after the war ended, when she had just begun to work again, she died suddenly of a brain tumour, leaving a husband and young child. I’m delighted to have made acquaintance with her art, almost 70 years on.

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This Orient Isle

9780241004029Who did Shakespeare have in mind when he wrote about Othello, the “noble Moor” of Venice? It’s entirely possible he was thinking of the dashing Muhammad al-Annuri, Moroccan Ambassador to London, who arrived in London in 1600 to propose an audacious alliance between Morocco and England, in opposition to the Catholic European powers of Spain and France.

The ambassador’s arrival must have created quite a stir. His portrait shows a tall, dark-bearded man with intense eyes, a white turban and robe, black cloak and ornate scimitar. He and his 16-strong entourage spent six months in London, attending jousts at the Accession Day Tilts in Whitehall, meeting Queen Elizabeth in Nonsuch Palace and staying on The Strand. And Morocco was not the only Arabic country courting Elizabethan England. The sultan of the Ottoman Empire engaged in a 17-year correspondence with Elizabeth, negotiating trade deals, prisoner releases, exchanges of gifts and discussing possible military action against Spain.

The story of these years, when Elizabethan England – severed from Europe by religious dispute – turned to Turks and Moors for alliance, is told in This Orient Isle, a fascinating book by Jerry Brotton, professor of Renaissance studies at Queen Mary University of London. To anyone who thinks they know the plays of Shakespeare and Marlowe, the book does a marvellous job of filling in the gaps, putting into context their references to Turks, Moors and others. It even explains some of the jokes in Twelfth Night, not to mention the state of Queen Elizabeth’s teeth.

Reading This Orient Isle today, as conflict rages in the Middle East, Britain votes to (again) sever itself from Europe, Islamophobia rampages and Turkey gets dragged into a dispute about the European Union, does help give a longer view of the topic. Self-interest was clearly the strongest motivator in these diplomatic moves, with Elizabeth and her advisors glossing over their religious differences in pursuit of commercial and imperial advantage.

I bought the book on impulse, stopped in my tracks by a striking window display in Hatchards, featuring that most English of Turkish artefacts – a Turkish carpet. I’m so glad I did.

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