I’m not sure there’s a better place to be at Christmas than London. When I was young, festive West End shopping trips were the things you looked forward to all year, whether it was seeing the Oxford Street lights (in the years before they started to be sponsored by the likes of Primark and Mini Cheddars), being photographed outside No 10 (in the days when anyone could knock on the door), gawking at the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang car in Regent Street, or visiting Madame Tussaud’s. Then there was panto, watching the likes of Wendy Craig play Peter Pan.
Later, older, with funny hair and loud clothes, I’d seek out places like Heddon Street, where David Bowie was photographed for the Ziggy Stardust cover, or Abbey Road, hoping to catch an absent-minded Beatle hopping along the zebra crossing.
London still feels special at this time of year, especially if you’re theatre-bound. Two weeks ago I saw the Rory Bremner show Quiz (where he successfully plays Chris Tarrant) in Bromley. Last week I finally saw Dear England in darkest Soho, and next week — Christmas family outing, no less — I’m off to see the much-acclaimed revival of Guys and Dolls.
London theatres are not just full, not just full of exciting productions and willing audiences, but those audiences are young. Eager to bear witness to the extraordinary talent on our West End stages, they pour in, drinks in hand, in mufti, with backpacks, and high expectations. As they should. This is one of the many reasons to celebrate the return of the Evening Standard Theatre Awards, the most important event in the theatrical calendar, and the London awards ceremony with the longest, greatest legacy.
The young pour into our theatres, drinks in hand, in mufti, with backpacks and high expectations — as they should
Our event last week at Claridge’s was a reminder that our great city is the very centre of theatre, the crucible of performative creativity. The stars really came out in force, safe in the knowledge that — even if they didn’t win themselves — our august judging team had made the right decision, yet again.
The team here did an extraordinary job and, while there have been some amazing events in the Claridge’s ballroom, I’m not sure I have ever seen the room look so pretty.
Jack Thorne’s The Motive and the Cue, set behind the scenes of the 1964 Broadway production of Hamlet which starred Richard Burton and was directed by Sir John Gielgud, was named Best Play and its director Sam Mendes also took the Lebedev Award for his dedication to theatre.
One of the highlights of the night was watching Elton John collect his special editor’s award for bringing his collaborative musical spirit to theatre.
It was, I have to say, magical. Having been involved in my fair share of awards ceremonies, I can feel a room, and one of the interesting things about this year’s Evening Standard Theatre Awards was the fact that as soon as they were over, the talent stayed in the room. It was a room full of love (as well as luvvies), and we all felt it.
The ESTAs are also a much-needed reminder that London is the theatrical centre of the world, and not New York. Manhattan might seem exotic from across the pond, but Broadway is starting to feel terribly dated. Tired. Old.
A few years ago I was in New York on business, and my dinner companion suddenly cancelled. Alone, with nothing to do, I asked the concierge at The Carlyle Hotel to find me a ticket for The History Boys, still starring James Corden, which the night before had won a bunch of Tonys. And because the concierge at The Carlyle is almost as good as the one at Claridge’s, he got me one.
That night, as I sat snugly in my seat, jet lag came calling. I was awoken not by the sound of a mobile phone ringing, but rather a hearing aid. Then another, then another, and then a swarm of the things, buzzing like octogenarian locusts. I’ve been to Broadway recently and it hasn’t changed.
New York, you’re old and getting older, and it’s starting to show. London, you’re the future. In fact you’ve always been the future.
