This article was originally published in The Courier on 16th November 2013.
The
Sound of Musicals: Tuesday,
Channel 4
Agatha
Christie's Poirot: Curtain – Poirot's Last Case: Wednesday,
STV
Being
Poirot: Wednesday, STV
Paul
Whitelaw
Billed as a rare peek behind the
curtain of that business we call show, The Sound of Musicals
was basically an extended piece of free publicity for director Sam
Mendes' West End musical production of Charlie and the Chocolate
Factory. A pedestrian documentary hitting every predictable beat
– rehearsals, setbacks, first night nerves – it struggled to make
a convincing case for why we should care about the fortunes of a £10
million musical. Or maybe that's just me.
A scene depicting crazed
theatre-goers queuing overnight to buy tickets for smash hit musical
The Book of Mormon suggested I wasn't the target audience. The
only thing I'd ever queue overnight for would be tins of
uncontaminated spam in the aftermath of a nuclear attack, and even
then only at a push. But these people live for West End theatre, so
they'll presumably lap this series up.
It's mildly frustrating, as there was
an interesting documentary about the vicissitudes of life as a child
actor struggling to break free from repetitive sequences of Mendes
looking like a stressed Kenny Rogers and set designers worrying about
the logistically troublesome glass elevator prop (initially a
rickety death-trap, the actors inside would've been safer diving with
sharks in a cage made from ham).
The ruthlessness with which kids were
thrown aside during rehearsals when they were deemed unsuitable was
eye opening. Tom, a sweet little lad with no previous stage
experience, was in the running for the pivotal role of Charlie,
before being replaced by a precocious young veteran. It's a
cut-throat business. Likewise, the boy originally cast as Augustus
Gloop was dismissed when his voice broke. “He had a great moment in
the sun,” said Mendes, “and then he got too old.” You heartless
monster!
This selfishly pubescent Gloop was
replaced by Jenson, an exuberant child who'd always dreamed of being
a West End star. “He loves all that stuff,” deadpanned his
heating engineer dad. Jenson, to his credit, was a natural; the
programme's only truly affecting moment was when dad proudly
announced that the experience had brought him closer to his son. That
bond was worth more than a million golden tickets.
The great David Suchet made
television history last week when, after 25 years, he completed his
career ambition of starring in an adaptation of every Hercule Poirot
story ever written. Agatha Christie's Poirot: Curtain – Poirot's
Last Case marked a fitting farewell to Suchet's definitive
portrayal of the incomparable Belgian detective.
The appropriately meticulous detail
of his performance has always been a delight. It would be easy to
slip into caricature – especially after having played the character
for so long - and present Poirot as a vainglorious buffoon. But, as
illustrated by Being Poirot, a documentary in which the
affable actor bid fond adieu to his beloved alter ego, Suchet never
compromised the integrity of the character.
Having studied Christie's books in forensic detail, he brought Poirot's endearing essence to life without
condescension or derision. No other actor has ever captured so
effectively the charm, warmth and righteous humanity behind the
moustachioed super-sleuth's fastidious veneer. There was no madness
to his method, only painstaking dedication.
Suchet's remarkable performance and
record-breaking achievement will, without a hint of hyperbole, live
on in TV immortality. His final glance to camera in Curtain –
a moment of self-indulgence perfectly allowable under the
circumstances – said it all: au revoir, mon ami, we shall meet
again.
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