Fings, as the title of a play with songs by Lionel Bart once had it, ain’t wot they used t’be: the King’s Head now has rows of new bench seating that actually face the stage. This is a step as momentous in the fringe ecology as when the Bush finally installed benches that had back rests, instead of the knees of the person sat behind you. I’ve had many harrowing nights on what used to pass for the seating at the King’s Head, and although I won’t go so far as to say that the new benches are exactly upholstered for comfort -they’re not far off sitting on hard wood - they are a definite improvement over the weird, ad hoc assembly of the rickety wooden seats, fastened far too close to each other, tiny swivel chairs and backless benches that previously passed for seats here.
Even more astonishing is the refurbishment of the downstairs loos, which used to be amongst the most decrepit in London - even the hallways leading to them are newly wall-papered. And they don’t smell, either. (One or two leading London fringe venues could learn a lesson here).
There was a big turn-out for the King’s Head return in its new guise last night for the opening of the “new” Cole Porter musical The Black & White Ball; for some reason the theatre has always managed to pull in a good showing of critics (and last night saw first stringers from both The Times and Sunday Times, amongst others), not quite on a par with the Bush but nevertheless more than most fringe theatres typically get.
I was surprised that Charlie Spencer, always a champion of the late Dan Crawford who founded it, wasn’t there to welcome it back; but then I got a text from a friend who was at last night’s British Press Awards, held at Grosvenor House, and it was obvious that Charlie was otherwise engaged: he was busy collecting his second trophy for the award Critic of the Year, the only theatre critic to be nominated alongside TV critics Ally Ross (from The Sun) and AA Gill (from the Sunday Times), both of whom were highly commended, restaurant critic Matthew Norman (who went on to win the Columnist of the Year award instead), film critic Anthony Quinn, and art critic Brian Sewell.
It is, of course, particularly satisfying that Charlie beat out AA Gill, who last year launched a scurrilous attack on theatre critics that basically said that theatre critics are a joyless, detached bunch who don’t write as well as food critics do; and I don’t expect Gill to win an interviewer of the year award anytime soon, either, if his failure to record interviews or even take notes while he is conducting them is anything to go by. Charlie’s victory, at a time when theatre critics are coming under ever more challenges for space and status, is a triumphant vindication of what we do; but also, of course, of Charlie’s utter dedication to what he does - he’s a true enthusiast for the theatre who translates that passion into words that jump off the page and straight into the quotes ads.
It’s an old-fashioned art and one that Charlie is even more adept at nowadays than the late Sheridan Morley, who could always be relied on for the ready quotable quote - though it was always a bit mystifying to find his “best musical” boasts (of the decade, the last half century, the last five minutes) scattered around so many theatres simultaneously. Last week there was a big quotes ad for Into the Hoods at the Novello, that had Cameron Mackintosh, no less, acclaiming it as “the most exuberant, imaginative and original dance musical since Cats. I can’t wait to see it again.” High and generous praise indeed; except that Cameron is actually the landlord to Into the Hoods as owner of the theatre, the Novello, it is running at.
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