Mark Y Marc

Went to see Mark in Art last night, the first in the trio of this weekends cultural adventures. Driving out of London on a Friday evening is sheer folly, and I was cream crackered after driving to bleedin' Banstead for two hours. Luckily the theatre (a very cute converted stable) was close by. The production was very slick and professional, the acting was excellent and the staging was smooth. The play itself was rather unsatisfactory, it didn't really deal with the my two major bug bears about modern art, it's trading as a commodity, and its descent into another sub-genre of celebrity culture. It skirted around the idea of high fallutin' interpretations being applied to minimalist work, but didn't really dig deep enough. The other theme of the play was friendship, but as none of the three characters were particularly likable, I didn't really care very much if they ended up as friends or not, they were probably all better off splitting up and finding new mates.

Mark was very good, as usual, and considering problems he's having with the house sale and at work, and the fact that he'd been sick all day shows what a 'show must go on' trooper he his.