To rescue Kahlo from the clutches of the corporate art market, we need to acknowledge the overt and covert political dimensions of the work, demands GAVIN O’TOOLE
Latest editorial
How not to be Hamlet
Ian McKellen's portrayal of the Prince of Denmark demands a suspension of disbelief too far, says PETER MASON
STRETCHING CREDULITY: Ian McKellen (centre)
[Marc Brenner]
If you can see past the relentless commodification you will be rewarded by enormously powerful work, suggests JENNY MITCHELL
CHRIS SEARLE revels in the one-off collaboration between an American polymath and a British Muslim, and detects the presence of their revolutionary forebear
GORDON PARSONS revels in an ebullient production of Shakespeare’s magical comedy
BRENT CUTLER welcomes a thoughtful analysis of the Erdogan regime, viewed through the evolving history of a neighbourhood in Istanbul
GORDON PARSONS regrets the price, but is dazzled by an outstandingly ambitious study of the way art restoration in particular, and culture in general was weaponised by the Nazis
Hamlet
Theatre Royal Windsor
OF ALL the questionable issues connected with this strange staging of Hamlet, perhaps the oddest is the casting of 82-year-old Ian McKellen as the lead. McKellen has many great talents but inviting him to portray himself as a man 50 years younger than himself is a horrible ask.
No amount of hoodies, track suits or slim-fit jeans can disguise the fact that as Hamlet he’s visibly much older than everyone else on stage, particularly his young lover Ophelia and even his mother Gertrude, played by 64-year-old Jenny Seagrove.
So while that's perhaps an interesting experiment in asking the audience to suspend its disbelief, it’s also an unreasonable one.
Similar stories
MARY CONWAY applauds the timely revival of Miller’s study of people fatally deformed by the economics of survival
GORDON PARSONS is intrigued by a biography of the Marxist intellectual and author, made from the point of view of his son
MARY CONWAY becomes impatient with the intellectual self-indulgence of Tom Stoppard in a production that is, nevertheless, total class
MAYER WAKEFIELD is gripped by a production dives rapidly from champagne-quaffing slick to fraying motormouth