Yayoi Kusama at Victoria Miro

Last week I was lucky enough to get to the new exhibition by Yayoi Kusama at Victoria Miro with the snappy title of , 'The Moving Moment When I Went to the Universe'. The works all seem to be relatively recent with some created specifically for this exhibition. It's a very popular exhibition and that led to a small queue outside before being allowed inside in small groups to visit the first exhibit. Climb the old warehouse stairs to join the queue to walk inside the 'Infinity Mirrored Room - My Heart is Dancing Into the Universe'. I danced too.

I loved that room, total blackout apart from the disco lights and mirrors everywhere to disorient the viewer as we walk through the room in pitch black and primary colours. It was a great experience to walk through that room and it was over too quickly. If you're going, then linger to drink it all in, the sheer madness and delight of the place. It's great to go inside the art and be part of it - it's a different piece of art when I'm in it than when someone else is in it.

Then downstairs to see the giant, colourful bronze pumpkins and the paintings based on them. A couple of the paintings seemed to be dizzy-inducing with the complex circles and dots creating mesmerising patterns in bold colours. Then head out to the garden and 'Flowers That Speak All About My Heart Given To The Sky' on the decking outside. I loved the mad triffid flowers that I can quite imaging crawling along the ground after me, either wanting me to feed them or to eat me up. I'm not sure which.

This is where my only criticism of the place seeps in. After seeing the flowers some people turned round to leave because there was no signage to say there was any more of the exhibition. Luckily, I'm bolshy so I walked over to the door furthest away to see what was over there and was welcomed and told to take the lift to the top floor. Which I did. And was greeted by some of the biggest and most colourful paintings I've seen in a long time.

There were twenty-odd big canvases hung around the gallery of 'My Eternal Soul Paintings' with 20 of them hung together on one long wall creating a huge splash of colour and shapes. All the same size, the canvases are painted in the most colourful array of acrylic paints imaginable. I need to find out where she gets her paints from.

There are photocopied guides to the paintings with their individual names on so you can identify your favourites but I suggest you look at the paintings first and make your own mind up about what they're about before you read the titles. I loved these paintings and would happily have one on my wall - I could only fit one on my wall comfortably, sadly.

To find out more about the works pick up a copy of the small leaflet from the shop/office - I only noticed it as I was leaving. It's a ticketed exhibition and the tickets are free - check the Victoria Miro website for availability.

This was my first experience of Yayoi Kusama and I'm so pleased to have found her at last. This is an exhibition to set your spirit free and your heart soaring, just give in and let the joy in. I'm looking forward to seeing more of her works now.

'Ribera: Art of Violence' at Dulwich Picture Gallery

The current exhibition at Dulwich Picture Gallery is 'Ribera: Art of Violence' featuring the works of Jusepe de Ribera, an early 17th century Spanish painter who settled in Naples (which was governed by Spain at the time). It was probably in Naples that he saw the works of Caravaggio and that's clearly influenced Ribera's style of painting. I don't know anything about Ribera so this exhibition was an eye-opener and, to be clear, it's just focusing on one aspect of his work. It's a familiar aspect, though, since I've seen his work before, and one painting in particular I actively dislike - but more of that later.

The first room of the exhibition features two large paintings of the 'Martyrdom of Saint Bartholomew' painted almost 20 years apart (1628 and 1644). There are quite a few renditions of St Bartholomew as you wander through the exhibition, along with paintings and drawings of other saints at the moment of their agony, such as St Peter and St Sebastian. That's the theme of this exhibition - the moments of pain and agony felt by the early Christian martyrs and others. The signs tell us that 'Ribera was primarily concerned with exploring  the contorted and restrained male body' and that the Church wanted art to 'inspire piety by arousing strong emotions'. It does that all right.

The later painting of St Bartholomew being flayed alive because he destroyed the images of pagan gods is the one that really captured my attention since the saint looks out of the painting with a piercing direct gaze - would you go through this for your god?

The next room took me back a few years to when I saw the main painting in an exhibition at Musee Jacquemart-Andre in Paris. Titled simply 'Saint Bartholomew' (1612) I wrongly thought the old man was the saint (the labels at the exhibition were in French) but the old man with the knife is holding the flayed skin of the saint. It's quite stark really. I didn't like this painting when I first saw it and I don't like it now. The background is a bit intriguing and 'modern' though.

This is where the drawings take over the exhibition, lots of drawings - and they're really good - where the artist tries out different positions of the subject matter for what will probably become paintings, tries to capture different body shapes for later use and so on. A few of the drawings capture physical illnesses and others capture torture and punishment. Not many are very pleasant viewing, especially when he he depicts the results of torture, such as a drawing of a man strung up by his arms defecating because the pain means he can't control his bowels. Not very pleasant stuff. I can only think that Ribera watched it happening so that we don't have to.

One of the drawings that really caught my eye was the 'Crucifixion of Saint Peter' from the early 1640s in ink (brush and pen). Look at that contorted body of an old man as he's man-handled onto an inverted cross. But also look at the two men handling him, the effort that's going into crucifying him, with a third pulling on a rope. A lot of effort is going into killing and humiliating an old man. There's a similar drawing hing close by of the same scene but with the cross at a more manageable angle.

The labels refer to Riber using real models for his works and I can well believe it. Some of his drawings look as if they're him trying to work out the best composition for a painting and the bodies and faces in the paintings look like real people. That's you and me in those paintings, warts and all.

Ribera also tried his hand at print making to be able to more easily spread his art and skill and, hopefully, get more commissions. There's a very detailed print of the 'Martyrdom of Saint Bartholomew' from 1624 (I told you he kept cropping up as a favourite subject) which shows the skin being flayed from his arm while bound to a tree. Leaving the subject matter to one side, it's a great little print with loads of detail but I have to wonder why anyone would want this in their collection.

So there you have it, flayings, hangings, torture, executions  and all sorts of nastiness going on, all captured on the canvas or on paper by Ribera. One of the labels in the exhibition assumes that Ribera saw someone burned at the stake because of a drawing on that happening and his name prominently saying 'Ribera was here' across the bottom. Um, OK.

 The final, large painting has a room to itself and is kept dark with a curtain drawn across the exit. This is 'Apollo and Marsyas' in which the god flays a satyr alive. There he goes with that flaying thing again. Apparently, Marsyas bragged that he better at music than the god of music, they held a competition and guess what? the god won so he flays his rival alive. Trust Ribera to go with that story rather than any of the other stories of Apollo. As with the painting of Saint Bartholomew above, the satyr looks out at the viewer as he screams in agony.

So there you have it, not the most pleasant of exhibitions. There are only six paintings by Ribera (plus one by a contemporary) and lots of drawings. This was the least busy exhibition at Dulwich I've been to - don't know if Tuesday lunchtimes are traditionally not very busy or if the subject matter is putting people off - and I won't be going back for a second viewing.

Imagine my relief when I left the exhibition, looked to the right and saw two small Raphael paintings almost glowing with colour by comparison. Out of the darkness and into the light.

'The Height of the Storm' at Wyndham's Theatre

We went to see 'The Height of the Storm' last week, the new play by Florian Zeller and translated by Christopher Hampton, The draw was, of course, seeing Dame Eileen Atkins and Jonathan Pryce on stage together, both actors worth seeing that I've seen in various productions in the last few years. It's a fashionably short play with no interval and is set in the kitchen of a large house outside Paris, so only needs one set.

The play opens on the morning after a big storm, with Andre looking out the kitchen window at the vegetable garden when his daughter walks in and starts chatting. He doesn't respond and something is clearly wrong  - is it shock? is it dementia? He gradually starts talking as Anne, the daughter, fills the silence. It seems like her mother, Andre's wife, Madeleine, has died and she's tip-toeing around the subject to avoid upsetting him. And then Madeleine appears, back from the shops where she's been buying mushrooms for lunch and Andre comes to life again. Later in the scene we see Andre talking to both his wife and Anne, but seemingly ignored, so is it he who has actually died?

The story develops as we meet their other daughter and her latest boyfriend, an estate agent, and a mysterious woman who knew Andre many years ago and has a grown son. Who's son is he? And there's a mysterious bouquet of flowers without a card. What's going on? I kept thinking it'll all become clear any moment, someone will say something and it'll click into place. But they don't and I'm none the wiser. And then the scene changes again. I think the best thing is to give in and go with the flow and it'll become clearer by the end (which I won't spoil).

There's some very complex writing here that takes some concentration to follow. It's not a linear story by any means, almost circular and picaresque, seeing the scenes from different perspectives and view-points. Who actually died? Who's is re-living scenes from their life? There's a clue from Anne when she gets upset and says she's having trouble understanding what's happening being back in the old family home. Particularly since she's reading her father's diaries at the request of his publisher. What is fact and what is fiction?

I really liked the relationship between Eileen Atkins and Jonathan Pryce, I think they really pulled off  the appearance of a long-term marriage where they're still in love after so many years. It's a good on-stage pairing with a text that offers them great opportunities to demonstrate their love, such as the ritual of mushrooms for lunch. It was quite touching to see them interact and react to each other, especially in the final scene when Madeleine says she'll always be with Andre, always, because she doesn't break her promise.

I really liked Amanda Drew as the older sister that takes the brunt of the situation, as is her job as the eldest and most capable in the family but whose personal life seems to be falling apart. She has the look of capable older sister about her. But I think it's the quiet scenes between Eileen and Jonathan that I'll remember, sitting at the kitchen table peeling mushrooms.

'Fat Blokes' at the Purcell Room, Southbank

Last night I went to see some fat blokes dancing and talking on stage in 'Fat Blokes' at the Purcell Room. 'Fat Blokes' is a show by Scottee, a mix of cabaret, political diatribe, performance art and a challenge to the way we think about people who are overweight. Are they overweight or are they the right weight for them at that time? There are some serious and complex issues wound into and about body weight - not least the health impact - and these are explored in this show.

According to the blurb:

Fat Blokes is a (sort of) dance show about flab, double chins and getting your kit off in public by artist and forward facing fatso, Scottee.

Fat Blokes uncovers why fat men are never sexy but always funny, always the ‘before’ but never the ‘after’ shot.

It’s made in collaboration with choreographer Lea Anderson and four fat blokes who’ve never done this sort of thing before.

Prepare yourself for a show about pent up aggression, riot grrrl and the hokey cokey.

This is fat rebellion.

We have Scottee and his gang of four fat blokes, Asad, Joe, Sam and Gez. They dance, they talk and tell us their stories, they face challenges - what might happen next? There's a group dance or a monologue from Scottee and then one of them tells us his story. Joe tells us he grew up being bullied for being fat and that fat is a political issue; Asad tells us he loves big men but hates his own body and is on a diet, he also tells us he hasn't spoken to his father for two years; Sam tells us how he ended up having a glass being buried in the back of his head in Soho; and Gez tells us that he loves his body as it is. There are some powerful stories here.

Scottee also challenges himself and his gang with two tasks: choose to eat in public and choose whether to take a thin pill, depending on how they feel. Two chose to take the pill to make them thin.

Loud, brash music, great lighting and some creative choreography worked well with Scottee's monologues and the blokes' stories. It was an enjoyable and challenging show, thought-provoking and fun. Well done chaps!

Rehearsal of 'La Bayadere' at the Royal Opera House

Last week I was lucky enough to go to a rehearsal of 'La Bayadere' danced by the Royal Ballet at the Royal Opera House. Rehearsals are usually the same as the final production with costumes and lighting and music, except the band are in jumpers and cardigans. For many people it would've been their first opportunity to see the grand old building fully opened up again after the renovation work that has meant parts of it have been shit for the last couple of years.

Most of the story-telling in 'La Bayadere' tale place in the first act in which we learn that the famous huntsman is in love with the temple dancer but the head priest also wants the dancer. When the huntsman gets back to the city he learns that the Rajah has decided he must marry his daughter. At the betrothal ceremony the temple dancer is invited to dance and is given flowers that she is told are from the huntsman but they're not, they contain  poisonous snake that bites her. The high priest has an antidote but she rejects it, preferring death to losing her lover. The second act is a prolonged opium dream in which the hunter sees visions of the dancer everywhere. The third act sees the betrothal ceremony again and the gods rain down death and destruction on the Rajah for poisoning the temple dancer and reunites the hunter and the dancer forever.

Ok, not the greatest plot, but 'La Bayadere' isn't about plot, it's about great dancing and spectacle. There are some spectacular moments and my favourite was at the start of the opium dream when first one, then two, then three and, ultimately, 24 ballerinas dance onto the stage using the same steps and dressed identically slowly filling the stage with visions of the temple dancer. That's a great moment. The same dance moves, halt, move forward a couple of paces to allow another ballerina onto the stage, and then repeat the dance moves. It's moment like those that make you love this ballet.

Another marvellous moment was at the start of the third act when the bronze idol at the temple came alive and leapt up to the rafters as part of his dance. Great leaps and bounds, twists and turns and all from this golden figure taking over the stage before the destruction begins. I also liked the temple dancer's dances with her exotic costume floating after her as she moved. I wonder if her costume really is made of silk? or some silk-like fabric?

For the rehearsal, the temple dancer was the most marvellous Marianela Nunez and the hunter was Vadim Muntagirov. The bronze idol was a very bouncy Alexander Campbell. The rehearsal went off with a hitch but I think the main spotlight person needs a bit more practice. Just saying. Well done people!

'Lorenzo Lotto Portraits' at the National Gallery

The new exhibition at the National Gallery is a collection of portrait paintings by Lorenzo Lotto, a 16th Century Venetian painter. If you like old art then you'll probably have seen two of his paintings that are the biggies, and that's probably it. It certainly was for me. One portrait of a man and one of a woman and that was my total knowledge of Mr Lotto. Little did I know there was so much more to learn and admire.

His problem seems to have been when he was born that put him in competition with his Venetian rival, Titian. Lotto worked with Raphael to paint the Pope's apartments in the Vatican so that's no mean feat at all. He pioneered innovations in portraiture due to the influence on Northern European painters that kept him working for a while. But, ultimately, he was over-shadowed by Titian and faded into penury and obscurity. Which is a great shame. He had links with the Dominicans (which is usually a good thing for art) and died in 1556 after entering the Holy House at Loreto and living there for four years. In his will in 1546 he wrote, 'Art did not earn me what I spent.'

Lotto seems to have been a painter for the middle classes rather than the aristocracy the time so we see more homely portraits than those of power and vast wealth. His sitters were pretty well off to be able to afford a portrait and have somewhere to hang it, of course.

One of the first things that I noticed about his portraits were the hands, very expressive hands and often, almost photogenic in their realism. The portrait of Lucina Brembati (above) is a great example even though the photograph doesn't do it justice. The hands could almost be photographs stuck onto the canvas.

Another very noticeable portrait is the one of Andrea Odoni dated 1527, painted when Lotto was the peak of his powers and he's showing them off in this painting. Odoni was a collector of art and antiquities so he's surrounded by some of his collection including a small statue that he seems to be holding out to the viewer. Beside this painting are two small statues similar to those in the painting, which is a nice touch. It's a great painting.

A few years after painting the Odoni portrait he painted 'Portrait of a Woman Inspired by Lucretia', thought to be a portrait of Lucrezia Valier. In one hand the woman holds a drawing of Lucretia, a Roman woman who killed herself to save her honour after being raped, while the woman's other hand points to it. There's some odd morality going on in this painting but, at the same time, it's a portrait of a woman telling the viewer that she is in control of her situation. The rather sumptuous dress and the delicate head-dress tell us she was definitely monied.

The paintings in the final room of the exhibition are possibly the most interesting and insightful into their sitters. 'Brother Gregorio Belo of Vicenza' from 1547 is a really powerful portrait. His very realistic features, the clenched fist, the robe draped over his shoulders while he reads a sacred book with a vision of the Crucifixion in the background. Brother Gregorio was a Hieronymite or Poor Hermit of St Jerome who is trying to emulate his patron saint. The book in his hand has been identified and a copy of the book is in a glass case beside the painting - I really like these little touches that help bring the exhibition and paintings to life. On the other side of the room is full length gown in a similar style to one worn by a woman in the portrait beside it (the dress on display probably belonged to Grand Duchess Eleonora of Toledo).

A final portrait I want to mention is 'Portrait of a Man with a Felt Hat' from 1541. The painting is oil on paper which we're told was common at the time but few have survived over the centuries. I wonder who this man was and why he had his portrait painted? He looks a bit nervous and shy, his clothes are a bit dowdy - but presumably his best - and he looks a bit tired. This is a masterly portrait with different textures in the clothing and the lined face. It also does what I like about portraits, it makes you wonder who the sitter was, what they were thinking about and what happened to them. Has this man been persuaded to run for public office so needed a portrait to hang in the town hall or something? I wonder ...

The exhibition opens today (5 November) in the ground floor galleries of the National Gallery and entry is free. It's spread across four rooms and is well worth visiting when you have a spare hour. The exhibition was jointly organised by the National gallery and the Prado, so has a good provenance. I'll certainly be going back, it's a really good exhibition that has whetted my appetite to see more works by Lorenzo Lotto. 

'A Child's Christmas' at Sadler's Wells

A few years ago Cerys Matthews issued a record of her reciting poems by Dylan Thomas, particularly 'A Child's Christmas', with music by Mason Neely. That was the basis for this new show by Ballet Cymru, using Cerys's narration and their dance.

The first part of the show is Cerys reading poems while the Ballet dance followed by an interval and then we had 'A Child's Christmas'. We were lucky enough to Cerys in person reading the poems in the first half on stage while a recording of her voice was used for the dance sequence for 'A Child's Christmas'. It was lovely to see her on stage again even though she was hidden under a big hat and her bright red boots were a distraction.

I wasn't sure what to expect and I'd never been to the Lilian Baylis Studio at Sadler's Wells before so it was an evening of surprises. Keyboards at the edge of the stage and  seat for Cerys with an empty stage for the Ballet to use and slowly fill with dancers. It wasn't so much ballet as modern dance, often interpretive of the text of the poetry and you know what? It worked. The choreography was mainly a subtle reflection of the texts being read with some random moves and athleticism, a leap here and a roll there, but none of it felt out of place. I mean, how do you choreograph a dance to 'Do not go gentle' or to 'Death shall have no dominion'? Not an easy task.

The real joy, for me at least, was 'A Child's Christmas', with Cerys's accent pronouncing those melodious words telling the truth about Christmas from a young boy's perspective. The dance was enhanced with a video projection onto the screen at the back with lots of snow falling down. The dancing was quite literal but also quite joyous - we see the boys pelting the cats with snowballs and the uncles handing out cigars, bringing the tale to life. It was quite magical in it's own way, bringing small town Vallies Wales to life through the magic of Christmas and snow. I really liked the energy and joy of the production but why is it on at the start of November? It should be in December. It would be ideal for a BBC2 or Channel 4 programme around Christmas time.

There wasn't a cast list saying who played which role - and they all played many roles - but I really liked the dancers who played the young Dylan and his slightly tipsy aunt drinking cocktails who I think were Xolisweh Richards and Krystal Lowe. I also liked Robbie Moorcroft and Daniel Morrison as strong centrepieces in the twisting, twirling dances. Looking at the biographies in the programme, it's dd to see that none of the cast were from Wales.

If you want to hear Cerys reading Dylan Thomas you could always get her record. I already have it but only play it in December in the run up to Christmas. It worth getting, trust me.

'Mayerling' at the Royal Opera House

I saw 'Mayerling' danced a couple of years ago by the Royal Ballet so I knew the broad outline of the ballet when I went to see the current production, but there are always sequences and details that you forget, and I'd forgotten a lot. I was there largely to see the return of Steven McRae to the stage with his Royal Ballet colleagues and a long time away with an injury. It was a delight to see him leap about, throw ballerinas around in exotic shapes and jump up to the rafters again. Especially so in this ballet which is really all about the leading man who is on stage for most of the ballet.

The ballet is based on the real tale of Crown Prince Rudolph of the House of Habsburg and his rather strange manias around death and guns. And sex, lots of sex. And getting his own way in everything. He's not a terribly attractive character but seemed to have been popular with the ladies at court and less popular with their husbands. He is forced into a loveless dynastic marriage and treats his wife appallingly, even taking her to his favourite bawdy house to meet his favourite strumpets. He's not a happy person and, despite treating everyone badly, still seems to be popular with some young women. one in particular who shares his morbid fascinations.

It all comes to a head when he shoots one of the courtiers on a family game shoot in the woods and his oddities can no longer be hidden. In the hunting lodge he's assigned to while the Emperor considers his fate he's visited my his latest young lover and they dance up a storm then he shoots up and grabs his pistol that's never far from his hand...

Phew. This an intense ballet, very dark and dangerous. It has a large cast, some exotic costumes and a lot going on around the stage, with sub-plots aplenty to build a rich and compelling tale of power and intrigue, psychological drama and uncontrolled lusts and passions. It's all in there.

Key to the whole thing, of course, is the choreography and dancing. This is one of Kenneth MacMillan's great ballets and deservedly gets revived regularly. It's a star vehicle for the lead male dancer and Steven McRae is certainly one of the Royal Ballet's finest. He's been a Principal since 2009 and knows his stuff, bringing characterisation to every role - it's about acting as well as dancing and there's some spectacular dancing in this ballet. Steven was accompanied by Akane Takada as his lover and together they pulled some amazingly athletic feats of dance, sometimes getting close to gymnastics. I had the pleasure of seeing Akane dance the Swan in 'Swan Lake' early in the summer and it was delightful to see her grace and athleticism again.

It's a very intense ballet and the long applause at the end as the dancers took their bows and the ballerinas received flowers helped to come down from the tense peak. It was a treat to see Steven on stage, alone, to take the first bow which he so richly deserved. Welcome back!

'Anthony & Cleopatra' at the National Theatre

Last week we went to see the new production of 'Anthony & Cleopatra' at the National Theatre. That's one of my favourite Shakespeare plays and it was on the grand Olivier stage so there was lots of space to fill.

I really liked the production a few years ago at the Globe, particularly since it was in period costume, and one of my abiding memories is that Cleopatra spoke her final lines as a mild and defeated woman, not as a mighty queen. Getting those lines right is a benchmark for me, so how would this new production fare?

We all know who Anthony and Cleopatra were don't we? Anthony was a Roman general and politician who was one of the triumvirate who ruled the Roman empire after Julius Caesar's death. Cleopatra was the queen of Egypt. often said to be the last in the Greek Ptolemaic line to rule (although technically that was her son), lover of Julius Caesar and then of Mark Anthony. Both died in the war between the triumvirate for supremacy that resulted in Octavius taking power and becoming the first Roman Caesar.

It's a play about power and intrigue, about love and jealousy, about the fate of nations being decided by leaders and about loyalty. It's about a lot of things - there's a lot going on in this play and is a testament to the creativity and power of Shakespeare. The text is there so, to do it justice, you need a cast of actors and creatives that can bring the work to life. I avoided all reviews and production photos so I could enjoy it with fresh eyes and ears. How does this production fare?

The play opened with Octavius delivering a eulogy to Cleopatra while she lay dead at his feet and he was surrounded by soldiers in modern combat uniform. My heart sank. O, it's a modern dress version is it? Why? Why try to modernise things? what's wrong with a toga or two? Cleopatra is lying on the main stage when the turntable span around, removing the dusty monument and soldiers and revealed a sumptuous palace scene and Cleopatra was miraculously lying beside a pool. Anthony walks out in a Hawaiian shirt and the most ridiculous and flariest linen trousers since the guitarist from Mud in the early '70s. Aha, I thought, this is looking interesting.

Cleopatra's palace in Alexandria looks more like a five star hotel for rich people with sun loungers beside the pool and servants to cater for your every whim. That's how we're introduced to the lovers and the story is off and running. Their idyll doesn't last for long, of course, as Anthony is summoned back to Rome, he marries and we see a great scene with the jealous Cleopatra getting a description of her rival. Ah, yes, jealousy.

I quite liked the staging of the play and I don't think I've seen the giant turntable under the Olivier stage used so frequently to change set and tone of a play as in this one. All the quick changes could've been annoying but I liked it. I also forgave the use of modern costumes because the clothes were quite interesting in themselves, although I did find the army fatigues a bit distracting later in the play during the battle scenes. I think some of that was unnecessary and more down to the director's vision rather than the text.

The acting was, on the whole, excellent and lived up to expectations for such a powerful play. Ralph Fiennes was Anthony and Sophie Okonedo was a suitably imperious and fiery Cleopatra. They worked well together as lovers and rulers, commanding their court at the same time as being playful and believable. I also liked Gloria Obianyo and Georgia Landers as Chairman and Iras, Cleopatra's loyal handmaidens - I could easily hear Chairman saying 'keep your hands off my queen, matey' to Caesar. Both turned in excellent performances, I thought. I was less taken with Tunji Kasim as Octavius who didn't really convince me he was soon to be the most powerful man in the world.

I grew to love the staging and rotating set (even though it didn't look terribly Egyptian) and the lighting was excellent, almost like an Egyptian beach in some of the palace scenes. Well done to director Simon Godwin, set designer Hildegard Bechtler, costume by Evie Gurney and lighting by Tim Lutkin. Well done all.

And the final speech. In my head I hear Cleopatra laying down a challenge to the gods for daring to take her lover from her, thunder crashing and lightning flashing as she prepares to join her lover:

Give me my robe. Put on my crown.

I have immortal longings in me...

I am fire and air,

My other elements I give to a baser life.

O yes, Sophie was suitably imperious as Cleopatra prepares to join her lover. I didn't hear thunder crashing but thank you! I now have a new benchmark for that speech.

Go and see this play - I'm tempted to go again. Maybe there'll be thunder?