sootyj
Thursday 19th May 2016 8:50am
51,287 posts
A review of The View from Islington North
A view for Islington North maybe the worst thing to hit the London Stage since Hitlers Luftwaffe struck theatreland in the 1940s. But this apparent collection of playlets or sketches is I suspect quite literally the view from North Islington.
But first an apology I was late for the Mother by Ravenhill so have no opinions to offer on this production.
I was unfortunately in time for Caryl Churchill. This was an attempt to use the noble tradition of nonsense verse and portmanteau language; beloved of both Edward Leer and Stanley Unwin amongst others. Both of whom I think turned in their graves hard enough to almost crash a tube train.
Two Islington trendies discuss a trip to the park using keywords to substitute for parts of the script. I think Oil and Merchant's banks meant the guy had a wank whilst watching some people in lycra doing British Military Fitness exercises. Or it might have been that his baguette from Pret was too hard. Then they say
Gaza, Israel, and occupation about a dozen times. A few audience members give off some Pavlov laughs because this must be satire he said Israel right? Yup like when Roy Chubby Brown says paki or Bernard Manning said nig nog. I guess Israel is the lefty equivalent. I used to work in Islington; it has few hills so if you're an over-privileged Corbynite your view really isn't beyond the other people who agree with you and the Yottemi Olenghi café on Upper street (just keep pretending he's Palestinian).
What follows is a strange sketch, by Alistair Beaton, who's middle name I'm betting, is "can be." A group of Bitterites a weak woman MP, a bullying man in a suit (suits boo!) and a sexually inadequate posh boy.; cooking up a plot to bring down the leader. Corbyn is not only not on stage throughout but he's never mentioned by name. Like one of those religious biopics of the 1930s where Jesus could only be shown as a glowing light on the wall. Fortunately, they're stopped by a lovely leader of motion/bowel movement, or whatever Beaton has chosen to call Momentum. She tracks them down leaks to the press and swears at them. It's rather like some Jehovah's Witnesses watched a copy of the Thick of It and remade it about the last supper, with 12 Judases and one Paul and Jesus stayed at home sorting his manhole cover collection.
After the break came, Ayn Rand Takes a Stand (yes a Rand pun) by David Hare. In which George Osbourne and Ayn Rand lock Theresa May in a room and try to persuade her that refugees are good for the economy because they eat oranges. I think Hare might have been drinking red wine whilst taking antihistamines because this skit was rather like a drug trip, a boring, whiny, illiterate drug trip. And if Ozzy locked Tiger Theresa in a room I think we know how it would end. Ozzy on the floor dead with a leopard skin stiletto sticking out of his eye socket and Theresa texting Cameron he'll need a new chancellor. Theresa also said "the Jews are different" a lot I'm not sure why, these skits were short, but I guess even then they needed some filler.
The final one was the How to Get Ahead in Politics (a sex pun?), set in the Conservative Whips office. This was basically the Chinese knock off of House of Cards, Yes Minister or the Thick of It, or rather North Korean because it basically shat on Parliamentary democracy without understanding it. It was apparently written by Stella Freehilly but I suspect she just used Google autocomplete. Basically, the conservative party is run by the sort of vindictive queers who used to exist in Nazi propaganda or Punch in the 1970s. And ambitious Asians conservatives are happy to be raped by gross old Torys if it advances their careers. They managed to get away with not shitting on Israel, so that spoilt the thematic unity.
Then the cast sang a Billy Bragg song....poorly. With all the seriousness of the national anthem or more likely the final prayer at the end of a religious service which this really was.
There are two reasons to see this review. One is when after another decade of Tory rule your Disney GP in Mickey Mouse ears, tells you your fit to work in the Uranium mines despite having no legs and being 75 and have a nice day. This is the reason this whiny, collective of over privileged moaners who want to hear socialist lullabies are the only opposition.
The second is at some point Fidel Castro had to choose to send Che Guevara to die in Bolivia. Stalin had to purge his ranks of the Trotskyite romantics, and Mao decided the revolution isn't a tea party. I sort of hope someone with a stronger, more iron will than mine look at this abhorrent whine fest. And will decide it's time to start drawing up lists.
I'm just sorry they'll have to go through the As and Bs before they reach Caryl Churchill.
Also Theresa May would never wear such faded Leopard skin heals, details!
