MMM HMMM at the Ustinov Studio, Bath

Like a newly anointed politician smartened up for public consumption the show has had a makeover since its first iteration at the Wardrobe Theatre, prior to an outing at Edinburgh. Some glitzy shoes and smart designer bag-dresses have allowed the show entrance into polite society. The concept does the rest: what starts as a kind of musical/theatrical joke soon becomes hypnotic. Like any worthy art it creates its own world the exploration of which gives us new insight into our own.

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THE PERFECT MURDER at the Everyman, Cheltenham

The plot takes us behind the suburban closed doors of unhappily married couple Victor and Joan Smiley whose loathing for each other is convincingly demonstrated by a good half hour of bickering at the start of the proceedings. Smiley by name, but sadly, not by nature. Victor finds solace in regular visits to a Croatian tart (or sex worker as I believe they are now called) nicely played by Simona Armstrong. In fact Victor is quite smitten with Kamila and plans to murder his wife and run off with her.

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THE LAST TANGO at the Bristol Hippodrome

Outside Primark two friends meet.

Kelly: ‘Ere, Joyce, what you doin’ tonight?

Joyce: ‘Allo Kelly, love. I dunno, why?

Kelly: I saw that Last Tango last night at the Hippodrome.

Joyce: What’s that then?

Kelly: It’s them dancers off the telly. Them Strictly dancers.

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FLARE PATH at the Oxford Playhouse

Terrence Rattigan’s 1940s play Flare Path is a love story set against the backdrop of a town near an RAF airbase during the Second World War. Actress Patricia Warren is married to a dashing and confident young bomber pilot, Teddy Graham, but is still in love with an old flame, the famous actor Peter Kyle, with whom she has rekindled an affair after bumping into him some time into her marriage . . . Light and sound effects are put to extremely effective use to convey the movements of aircraft to and from the nearby airfield . . .

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TRANSPORTS at the Ustinov Studio, Bath

Amidst all the national hand-wringing over the fate of those forlorn, native North Africans and Middle-Easterners fleeing the unspeakable horrors perpetrated by bloody tyrants and religious fanatics, it is far too easy to overlook the individual tragedies and lifelong psychological scarring accompanying such events, that in truth, only a comfortable armchair can ignore.

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ALIVE AND BREL at the Everyman Studio, Cheltenham

The French are useless at rock ’n’ roll. They have the look and they have the style but they don’t have the balls. What screws them is their obsession with words, with lyrics; they must say something. Do Wah Diddy and Tutti Fruiti just won’t cut it for them. Consequently the French miss out on having any big worldwide rock or pop stars – Johnny Hallyday and Eddy Mitchell notwithstanding.

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