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
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A shattering reminder of the horrors of war
On the eve of a visit to Iraq, a father and daughter relive the barbarity visited on the country by the West, writes MAYER WAKEFIELD
(L to R) Philip Arditti, Jasmine Naziha Jones, Hayat Kamille, Noof Ousellam, Souad Faress
[Helen Murray]
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
Baghdaddy
Royal Court Downstairs, London SW1W
WITH the acclaimed release of Charlotte Wells’s new movie Aftersun, there is a fresh focus on the underexplored dynamics of father-daughter relationships.
As the title suggests, Jasmine Naziha Jones’s debut, Baghdaddy, explores her experience of that relationship and a lot, lot more besides.
The show opens with an eight-year-old Darlee, who is also played by Jones, and her dad (the entertaining and versatile Philip Arditti) sat beneath a giant McDonald’s arch — one of many arresting images created by Moi Tran’s arch-laden design.
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MARY CONWAY becomes impatient with the intellectual self-indulgence of Tom Stoppard in a production that is, nevertheless, total class
PETER MASON applauds a stage version of Le Carre’s novel that questions what ordinary people have to gain from high-level governmental spying
GORDON PARSONS is blown away by a superb production of Rostand’s comedy of verbal panache and swordmanship
MAYER WAKEFIELD is gripped by a production dives rapidly from champagne-quaffing slick to fraying motormouth