MARY CONWAY revels in a powerful reminder that human lives are not defined by physical perfection
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PAUL DONOVAN recommends the fine performances in this account of the pre-war meeting between the US president and the British king
TECLYN AROD relishes an intimate celebration of jazz improvisation that mixes local and national musicians
The missing sister, the vengeful WAG, cruise ship claustrophobia, and reanimated Avengers
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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
UNDER a leaden sky, an Irishwoman is grinding her crotch into the face of a US tourist. The entire theatre looks on and laughs.
But the audience at the Globe Theatre are not mocking him, not really. They’re laughing in relief, after a particularly brutal scene of domestic torture.
It’s been 19 years since the theatre was miraculously resurrected on London’s south bank. It’s a strange 16th-century anomaly — although they never brought back the nearby bear-baiting stadium — alongside chain restaurants and the rapidly extending Tate Modern.
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Although this production was in rehearsal before the playwright’s death, it allows us to pay homage to his life, suggests MARY CONWAY