Wyndham’s theatre, London Grant brings shock-haired vigour as a vain novelist forced to welcome his boho children’s surprise guests in comedy of clipped social embarrassment Hay Fever, now one of Noël Coward’s best-known and most-performed works, hasn’t always been a smash hit. British critics who found its West End debut in 1925 amusing enough nevertheless noted its lack of plot, and the first Broadway production was a flop. A critic for Vogue called it “funny in places”, which sounds like the kind of stinging putdown you’d expect from the playwright’s own hand. A century of performances have proved the play’s lasting power, but its comic effect has always lain less in the words as written than their delivery – it is, after all, about a family that is “artificial to the point of lunacy”. At their centre is diva Judith Bliss, who has retired from the stage to take up the role of country hostess. When she, her husband and their self-consciously bohemian childre...
The Parisian rain showed there is a good reason why Olympic opening ceremonies are held in stadiums
Avant: le deluge. There was a moment, about an hour into Paris 2024’s Grand Opening Spectacular, as the rain soaked through shoes, trousers, socks and eventually skin, hair and bone; as yet more boats of waving people chugged down the Seine, like watching an endless series of weirdly nationalistic office parties; as some men did some dancing in a place, for reasons that frankly seemed quite remote at that point, where a thought occurred.
Maybe this wasn’t just the worst Olympic opening ceremony ever. Maybe this wasn’t the worst outdoor event ever. Maybe this was the worst thing ever.
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