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Hello hello.
Welcome at last to the first post of The London Culture Edit. Massive thanks to those of you who have already signed up, I’m mildly stunned.
It’s quite a strange feeling, launching something of your own when you’ve spent 20 years working for other people - and going newly freelance at the same time definitely adds a little spice to the proceedings (if you’re going to hurl yourself into the abyss, why not do it without a parachute for a really authentic thrill?).
For those of you who have just stumbled upon this post, those 20 years have been spent working in newspapers across the cultural spectrum, first at The Times (of London, obvio) then for the last four as Culture Editor of the Evening Standard, which focuses on London. And London is HEAVING with culture.
As a result I get to see a lot of different things in this city, week in, week out, and I get a lot of people telling me about still more things, many more than I can get anywhere near. I feel hugely lucky to have access to all this, but I know that sometimes the sheer volume of Stuff To Do can be a bit overwhelming.
The London Culture Edit will draw on that wealth of information, with a curated selection each week from across the city’s cultural landscape (plus some other written bits and bobs on other days). The format will be refined over time, feel free to let me know if you have constructive opinions on the matter.
My ambition is that if you say to your flatmate, or your mate, or your partner, or your reflection in the mirror, “Let’s do something cultural this weekend”, their answer will be “Yes! What was in that woman’s email?”
What to see now
In which spirit, everyone should immediately go and see Tyrell Williams’ play Red Pitch, which transferred recently from the Bush to @sohoplace (an unforgivably naff name for a theatre but perhaps they’ll quietly drop the @ in a few years; I live in hope).
Kedar Williams-Stirling (Sex Education), Francis Lovehall (Small Axe) and Emeka Sesay (The Power) are flawless as Bilal, Omz and Joey, three young lads living on a rapidly gentrifying London housing estate whose friendship is anchored by their dreams of football stardom, and played out on their local community pitch.
Their easy to-and-fro makes you feel like a spectator at the side of the tarmac rather than the stage, and Daniel Bailey directs with warmth and dexterity. Best of all, Williams’ funny, sweet, exhilarating script is written in language actually used by young people (it’s helpful to take one with you but not essential, you’ll work it out).
It’s only on until May 4 and it would be a bloody shame if this rich, nuanced, joyful piece of work didn’t do as well as it should. Tickets start at £25 and don’t rocket much higher. Do yourself and your spirits a favour and go.
Though race doesn’t explicitly come into Red Pitch, one one level it’s a celebration of young Black men; another show that does this in a much more direct and challenging way is For Black Boys Who Have Considered Suicide When the Hue Gets Too Heavy at the Garrick, by Ryan Calais Cameron, who is, in my view, one of the most exciting young British writers working right now.
His meditation on what it means to be a Black man in Britain is moving, stylistically inventive, energetic, very funny, poetic and thought-provoking. Every one of the six characters is distinct but you never lose the sense that through them you’re hearing the voices of countless Black men whose stories mirror theirs to a greater or lesser extent.
It’s interesting too, as a white audience member, to be party - for a change - to something you cannot fully be part of. I am welcome, but I am not the person for whom this is written. This way round, in its rarity, that is a valuable experience.
A new cast has brought the show back into the West End for this run (until June 1; it’s been extended) and it’s really something, do catch it if you can, whoever you are. I would love to hear your thoughts about it.
I’d also very much like to hear from anyone who has seen Opening Night, Ivo van Hove’s musical adaptation of John Cassavetes’ film, with music and (really not great) lyrics by Rufus Wainwright, currently at the Gielgud. Apparently it’s closing two months early (May 18 instead of July 27) and honestly, I am not surprised.
It is absolutely batshit. By the interval it felt like it might be in a good way. By ten minutes into the second half, it did not. The cast, which includes the peerless Sheridan Smith in the leading role, is excellent, and deserves better, though they may be relieved by the swift ending.
There is a lot to say about this show, about a woman struggling with the ageing process, made by an overwhelmingly-male creative team (four women out of 18 people), but I will just say this. Van Hove, who has a weird thing for making his female actors change their clothes onstage, needs to stop lavishly fetishising the suffering of women and actually listen to some.
I was a big fan of the Barbican Art Gallery’s latest exhibition Unravel: The Power and Politics of Textiles in Art, a show which highlights the unique ability of the medium to make a powerful political statement.
Textiles (for which I’m a sucker) are consistently underestimated as an art form, but they are integral to our existence, both practically - a baby’s blanket; the shroud of the dead - and culturally (we weave stories, spinning yarns by the fire; problems are knotty, families are tight-knit).
From the Mexican artist Teresa Margolles’ collage commemorating the assassination of the Panama City teenager Jadeth Rosano Lopez, made by his aunts, to Angela Su’s delicate, creepy drawings stitched from human hair and Judy Chicago’s visceral Birth Project embroideries, this sprawling but well-curated show is never less than fascinating. It’s on until May 26.
One of the artists featured in the Barbican show is Yinka Shonibare CBE, whom I interviewed for the Standard (you can read that here, he was brilliant) and I’m very much looking forward to seeing his big exhibition at the Serpentine, Suspended States, which opened last week (full disclosure, I’m actually in New York right now, pounding the pavements of Broadway for The Times, which you’ll hear all about soon). It’s on until September 1, so there’s time, but worth a mention.
Soulscapes at Dulwich Picture Gallery is also worth a visit - it’s a lovely, if slightly variable, exploration of how artists from the African diaspora are working with landscape, looking at our emotional connection with the world around us, and how that might be influenced by our identity and collective histories. I love a bit of Hurvin Anderson, and I’m a big fan of the young British artists Phoebe Boswell and Jermaine Francis, but there were also some new discoveries here for me, such as Kimathi Mafafo (incredible embroidery) and gorgeous painter Che Lovelace. Check it out before June 2.
And finally on art, I’m super keen to see Shaun McDowell: Opera in Nine Orbits at Hannah Barry Gallery - Shaun is an abstract painter who works from a studio in the Sabine hills above Rome, and he hasn’t shown new work in a few years because he’s been busy setting up a residency there to support other artists.
What’s thrilling to me, having seen the images online, is the change in his work that has been wrought over that period; I can’t wait to see the new paintings in the flesh. I’ve known Shaun now for something like a decade, since before he moved to Italy, and it’s really exciting to watch an artist develop in real time. I’ve always loved his work but these really seem to evoke the landscape, light and energy of his new home.
I haven’t yet seen Carmen at the Royal Opera House, but I’m reliably informed that it’s an absolute sizzler, and I’m keen to see it before it closes on May 31. This one is not cheap at this late stage, but at the time of writing there were a few £13 slips (standing) tickets going on May 20, and it’s going to be shown live in cinemas on May 1, and 5-8.
As with so much opera (is there another art form that leans so heavily and so enthusiastically on - here it is again - the suffering of women?) Bizet’s grim story is not easy to get right in the 21st century, but this production sounds like it manages to tread the line of salaciousness. And after all, men are still killing women for the sake of their own itty bitty egos all over the world, day in, day out, so it’s not as if it’s not relevant.
Anyway, apparently mezzo-soprano Aigul Akhmetshina is absolutely knockout in the leading role. I think this is her second of three Carmens in six months - the last was at the Met in New York, the next is at Glyndebourne.
Coming up
This Saturday sees the opening of the Imperial War Museum’s new exhibition Storyteller: Photography by Tim Hetherington. Hetherington was a talented and diligent photojournalist whose connections with the people he depicted, mainly in conflict zones, often spanned years. He died 13 years ago, while filming and photographing the Libyan Civil War. I find people like him to be both awe-inspiring and baffling, and I’ll definitely be seeing it.
Another brave man celebrated this weekend (though understandably he’ll be joining the event via livestream), is Salman Rushdie, talking to Erica Wagner at the Southbank Centre, about the attempt on his life that took place on August 12, 2022 as he was about to give a lecture. There’ll be live readings too from Rushdie’s new book, Knife: Meditations After an Attempted Murder, by actor Anjana Vasan.
I’m curious to see how the Lyric Hammersmith, which has been on a real roll recently, will handle its adaptation of Philip K Dick’s story Minority Report - the Tom Cruise film, which I do think was brilliant (largely but not entirely because of Samantha Morton, whose performance was spectacular) will loom large, but theatre has other kinds of magic up its sleeve so I’m hopeful. It’s been written by David Haig, who you will most likely know as Bernard from Four Weddings and a Funeral, but honestly, he’s a lovely writer.
I’m agog to see Challengers, that new Zendaya film with Josh O’Connor and Mike Faist, because the trailer made it look absolutely abominable but the reviewers are all swooning. That comes out on April 26; the same day, incidentally, as the Brick Lane Jazz Festival kicks off. I admit to being a bit of a novice when it comes to jazz, but were I not going on a hen weekend (eeeek), I would be trying to catch both Oscar Jerome and Ego Ella May, as well as Hackney’s the Silhouettes Project and the American trumpeter Theo Croker.
Book now. No really, I mean it
I was kind of hoping to see Dua Lipa at the Royal Albert Hall on October 17, which feels like quite a fun fit and something to look forward to, but a presale last week sold out in nanoseconds. However, some will inevitably be returned by ancient debenture holders because of the Royal Albert Hall’s mad historic membership system, so it’s worth keeping an eye out for those. She cheered me up no end at the start of the pandemic with Future Nostalgia, so I have a soft spot for her.
I’d also suggest getting your tickets now for Jeremy O. Harris’s Slave Play, at the Noel Coward Theatre from the end of June. It was a sensation on Broadway (it remains the most Tony-nominated play of all time), and has already had a huge amount of attention here, not only because it stars Kit Harington (GoT) and Fisayo Akinade (Heartstopper), but also due to the introduction of a number of Blackout nights during the run, which got some people very exercised. It’ll be a big London theatre moment.
And finally, because apart from being quite funny and also off-the-telly, he’s a massive thirst-object for a surprising number of women, me included, Greg Davies’ 2025 tour has nearly sold out already. The London OVO Arena Wembley gig on June 12 (reminder, that’s next year) still has tickets left, so I guess I’ll see you ladies there.
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I actually think I haven’t, will add it to my list!
Count me in the Greg Davies fan club! Have you watched The Cleaner yet?