Bouncers

Greenwich Theatre, until Saturday

I first saw Bouncers in the 1980s. It wasn't in its first flush of youth even then, but it had a vibrancy and immediacy that really captivated me. I was 20 years younger, of course (the age of most of the people in the audience this time round) and I rolled around with laughter at the antics of the four guys who play all the characters with a combination of mime, verse, straight acting and direct address to the audience. Perhaps I saw myself in those gawky teenagers - full of hormonal imbalance and actually giving a damn what other people thought. It might have been created in the 70s, but for me as an 80s teenager, it spoke to me.

I saw it at least twice and the same hazy, rose-tinted memory that tells me that of course I looked great in those enormous shoulder pads, rolled-up sleeves and bouncing, gigantic hair also remembers Bouncers as the ultimate piece of social comment theatre. A lot to live up to, then...

Perhaps before I go any further I had better assure you - I laughed. A lot. Perhaps not like a drain, as I did back when I was a very young student (though the very young students howled this time round too - perhaps it speaks to them too) but enough to thoroughly enjoy the evening.

I didn't actually dress in 80s-dayglo or dodgy peg trousers, but a small part of me was transported back to the Decade That Taste Forgot (strange, isn't it - it was only a couple of years ago that we were describing the 70s thus...)and so, I have to say, was the show.

It's a problem, I guess, with creating the 30th anniversary tour of any show that was such a hit (it won every award going first time around) but has been largely forgotten since. Hull Truck is a solid company with a superb track record and they must have agonised over what to do with this piece which, although carrying universal themes, is, frankly, of its time.

What to do? To present it as a period piece? A time before all bouncers were called "door staff," and either have shaved heads - or, heaven forbid, are female, in which case they sport a blond ponytail as their only distinguishing feature from the gents. A time when they wore penguin suits, not body armour; bow ties, not little curly walkie-talkie cables disappearing down the back of gigantic necks and had to do press ups in the gym rather than government-controlled courses in crowd management?

Or to try to update it and lose many of the gags about girl bouncers, gay bouncers and fat people in a haze of political correctness?

The company have made attempts to update the play with references to ipods and Primark, but some of their best gags are now cliches - do girls really dance round their handbags any more? We no longer need to be told outright that something is a piece of 'social comment.' And unfortunately the smoking ban in July has rendered several jokes redundant at a stroke.

If Hull Truck was creating this piece today, it would be a totally different animal, but many of the essentials remain the same. People still go to clubs to leer at each other, talk to each other, grope at each other. People still have the same insecurities and frustrations, still drink too much.

So it's perhaps unsurprising that the bits that work best about the show are the portrayals of the young folk getting ready for their night out - the boys, gauche, optimistic and full of bravado; the girls, gauche, giggling, and ever-so-slightly bitchy. These are broad stereotypes - and always have been, though I suspect that they are a little 'innocent' as portrayals of young people today. Their very innocence though, is touching - from the wide-eyed boys, happy just to get a quick feel, to the girls - Sexy Susie who sells herself far short, Plain Elaine (such a shame) who can't sell herself at all. The insecurity of youth is never far away and the vignettes still largely work.

I was less convinced with the portrayal of the Bouncers themselves. Maybe they are the bit that it's hard to update without a serious overhaul, but I just didn't feel the kind of menace that the ones I saw all those years ago. I vaguely remember that the guys I saw never looked at each other, never showed any emotion at all - not even Lucky Eric in his 'emotional' speeches, which I found chilling indeed, and a great contrast to the young people. These bouncers were much more cuddly - human, even. I wasn't scared of them. Presumably I wasn't supposed to be.

Ultimately, however, as a vision of British Youth, this still works. The details may have blurred over the years; the increased violence of today skimmed over - the world portrayed here has no mention of drugs, knives or guns - but the insecurities of being a teenager who hasn't yet found their place in society are still painfully accurate.

Go. Laugh at the fart gags. And remember a time when the ultimate expression of rebellion was to chuck up in the municipal flowerbed.

Greenwich Theatre Autumn Season Preview

As you know, I am a big fan of Greenwich Theatre, and I try to go as often as I can. I tend to work on the "use it or lose it" basis, so I often go even if I'm not that interested in the actual show.

Greenwich Theatre isn't a producing house (with one glorious exception - more about that later)so it gets in good-quality touring shows. It can be a bit hit and miss, but there are generally more hits than misses and whoever programmes it has a good knowledge of middle-scale touring companies and seems to try for a diverse range of productions rather than falling into the provincial theatre trap of safe parlour dramas and ancient farces (though they do occasionally have one or two of those too...)

I'm intending to get to see as many shows as possible this season, and for your delight and delectation, I'm going to AIM to go as early in the run as possible so if I discover a hidden gem (or a total dud) I can let you know in enough time to act on it, but I thought I'd take a look at a few things I'm looking forward to.

I've missed The Gruffalo (just forgot it was on, frankly,) and if I make it to the first "grown up show" of the season, The Ballad of James II (an odd choice if you ask me, but what do I know?) it'll have to be tomorrow night which completely scuppers my intentions to see things early already.

I'm very much looking forward to Bouncers, the Hull Truck legend from the late 1980s. I remember it at the Arts Theatre and howled with laughter at the time but there are a few caveats to this 30th Anniversary tour. First, I was young - I laughed at anything that had rude words in it. Second, it was the 80s - when bouncers still wore dinner suits and not body armour. Third - well, third - it was the 80s, full stop. Can it live up to my memories? I don't know - but I intend to find out.

Dear Brutus. Hmm. What to make of this? It is, apparently, a 'lost' play by JM Barrie with music by Julian Slade, lyrics by Kit Hesketh-Harvey, presumably based on the Julius Caesar quote. I don't know the history of this, but I associate Julian Slade with the 1950s. Either he wrote this in his late old-age, or it was written in the 1950s and not finished or given terrible lyrics at the time and was a flop. This is either a lost masterpiece pepped up for today's audiences by Hesketh-Harvey and utterly fab, or it's lost for a good reason. Will I see it? Of course I'll see it.

Lisa's Sex Strike is one of the offerings this season which doesn't particularly appeal to me. It's a modernisation of Lysistrata, which makes me almost cringe at the whole "hepness" of it all, but on the plus side it's Northern Broadside who I've enjoyed in the past. I just hope it's not too 'worthily' comic... Bizarrely, as I'm writing this, Blake Morrison who's written the play(and is local - he lives in Blackheath - and yes his latest book IS on my reading list...) is being interviewed on Womans Hour. I'm ever so slightly more tempted. We'll see...

I guess a season wouldn't be complete these days without a Jane Austen. Northanger Abbey might actually turn out to be a better play than it is a novel - I hope so. I'll enjoy the costumes anyway. I might give Abigail's Party a miss. I just can't imagine it without Alison Steadman, narrow-minded phantom that I am, and I wasn't fond enough of the play to try it without. If you go, send me a review.

Intro to Nitro. Now this I'm really looking forward to. I was gutted that I missed their performance in the summer (I saw them rehearsing on the steps of the Old Royal Naval College and was transfixed.) Several performances. Fab.

Does wanting to see a whole production of a Shakespeare play make me a pseud? It bothers me that Much Ado About Nothing runs just 90 minutes. They say it "isn't cut-down Shakespeare but a highly theatrical ensemble entertainment with intellectual weight" - sorry? What exactly does that mean? I guess I'll find out, but I wouldn't mind seeing a real production rather than some MTV-generation bite-size snippet-fest (if it isn't that, then it's been sold badly.)

I'm guessing Jane Bond is a kiddie show. I might leave that one to the parents among you - but there's no way I'm missing the panto, easily the best show of the year. It's the only production done "in-house" and if last year's is anything to go by it's going to be fantastic. It always used to be done by London Bubble, which was quite good - but the director hates panto (which you could always slightly tell, much as I adore the Bubble) and Natural Theatre took over, which wasn't quite as good as I hoped. But last year's, written by Andrew Pollard, was incredible (and it has nothing to do with the fact that I got out of my head beforehand just in case - several people I was with were driving and not drinking and they loved it too) and Pollard who also plays the dame is writing this year's too. He truly understands what makes panto work and I really can't wait.

So that's my autumn entertainment sorted out. As I said, I'll try to get to most of them early in the run so I can tell you the good ones. But get those panto tickets now...

Indigo 2

Last week I received a mail from James who'd just been to the Indigo 2, but I decided to hold his thoughts until I'd been myself and could comment too.

I'd chosen the Blind Boys of Alabama mainly because it was an almost guaranteed good night out - they've been going for about 900 years and if they don't know how to work an audience by now...

At the time of booking there was no seating plan of anywhere in the building so I had to take a chance. Just this once, I decided to push the boat out and go for the mysterious 'King's Row,' where, in exchange for money, you too can become a VIP.

You know you're a VIP because you get to go in a different entrance to everyone else and, when you get in the elevator, someone pushes the button for you (in case you got it wrong, I wonder?) You also get your ticket checked at least four times, but at least it's by the lovely Stepford Staff who are friendly to the point of obsequiousness.

The bar (read 'cash cow') is swanky indeed - all furry tiles, mirrored walkways, retro fittings and circular wooden booths - really very nice indeed, but you don't really get a chance to enjoy it. The reason is simple.

Unallocated seating. You've paid top-whack for King's Row seats, but once you get in there it's a free-for-all. Most seats are not bad, some are very good and two (at either end) are utterly appalling ('restricted view' is not the word - the speakers COMPLETELY cover the stage and are pointing away from you so you don't even hear it properly. I'd be furious if the only seat left was one of those two.) This means that you do really need to get there at the time on the ticket, despite its being at least hour before performance, to bagsy seats. For last night's concert, everyone was very civilised, but I could see fisticuffs at some gigs.

TOP PHANTOM TIP

Bring a woolly as a marker, or make your own portable cardboard "reserved" notice. It doesn't guarantee your seats would be kept but at least you don't have to sit there for an hour. There is table service so you could just sit there, it's a pleasant enough experience and gives you a chance to get to know your neighbours.

You can't bring glass into the auditorium, but plastic is allowed, and you can either have a bottle of wine put into a jug or kept behind the bar for you. There is only bottled beer available. I did see people downstairs with pints, but couldn't check the facilities as there was no way of getting down there - they're totally separate.

This all might sound as though I don't like Indigo 2 - and that couldn't be further from the truth. If you can get there early enough to get a good seat (we arrived 15 mins after the doors opened and we had very nice swivellly seats - not the best, but still v. good. The ones on the front of the front row seem slightly better than the ones that have tables, but there's not much in it) then you'll have a great time.

The place itself is bigger than I had expected, the sound is good, the view (save those two seats) seems pretty ok anywhere and the whole place itself is fresh, clean and - well - just a good place to see things. Some might find it a bit 'sanitised' but it's horses for courses - there are some great 'authentic' venues elseswhere for other nights. This is AEG and they don't do grunge.

We sneaked up to the Grand Circle to check out sightlines and although the action looked a lot further away (obviously) the seats we checked seemed good.

The Blind Boys themselves were fabulous, rousing Gospel music to warm the cockles of the most atheistic of hearts. The sight of a septugenarian - nay, octogenarian - rabble-rouser being mobbed by girls a quarter of his age will stay with me for some time. And Amazing Grace, House of the Rising Sun-style, the Gospel equivalent to Sorry I Haven't A Clue's ' One Song to the Tune of Another,' was both hauting and moving.

Frankly poor Mavis Staples had a hard act to follow. She was full of power as always, but never managed to eclipse the headliner. I'm not sure why they put them on in that order. I had assumed it was so that the older act could get back home to bed, but as we left we found (and congratulated, of course) the Blind Boys drinking in the bar, so that could hardly be the reason.

I can't comment on the ground floor of the club. Can anyone else?

As promised, here is what James had to say about the first night at the place:

I thought I would let you know what a great night we had at the 02 on Monday evening watching Jools Holland. It was the first time anyone had performed in the smaller Indigo 02 which holds about 2300 people. It is a great little venue with unbelievably acoustics, Jools and his many band sounded great. It was my second time to visit the 02 I went the week before to watch Snow Petrol but the larger arena was half empty and the atmosphere was not that great although the ban were really good. The indigo 02 was totally buzzing and everyone was up dancing and having a great time. I recommend this venue to anyone and the tickets are very reasonably priced.

Mark Steel

Greenwich Theatre

Mark Steel is probably my favourite contemporary comic. In these days of social homogeneity; a climate where apathy rules over any kind of satire, Mark Steel dares to be angry - and to channel that anger into a humour that is both accessible and human.

It's profoundly unhip to be Marxist these days, yet somehow Steel manages to carry it off in a way that's almost impossible to dislike. He's been a member of the Socialist Workers Party for-virtually-ever which should turn the kind of audiences that were at Greenwich Theatre last night right off (fewer students than I expected; rather more suits - and ties - than he had expected.) But his humour isn't the kind of in-yer-face-kill-the-bastards violent variety. This guy really wants to understand the world we live in today where, as he pointed out, even the leader of the British Army is politically left of Tony Blair.

What makes his material work, even for people who don't necessarily agree with him, is his unique way of combining his modern stuff with a real in-depth knowledge of historical events.

Last night was loosely (very loosely) based around The French Revolution, and resembled closely his wonderful Mark Steel Lecture series. The OU took quite a leap of faith getting him to present these - but they are a tour-de-force - light years away from beardy blokes in sandals and jazzy shirts standing in front of graphs. The lectures are hardly PhD level, but contain the enthusiasm and spark that can hook a potential scholar - a fantastic introduction to the subject.

He manages to draw out the quirky stuff, the things that make the people involved human beings rather than Historical Figures, and then, with a final flourish, create modern parallels which make you think.

I don't get hatred from Mark Steel. He wants to understand the people who do things he disagrees with, and if he's angry, it's with systems, not individuals. He adores human frailty and gets great fun from finding the wonderfully contradictory facets of human nature. He was on (almost) home territory in Greenwich (he's from Swanley, which he admits gets a cheap laugh every time from London audiences.) He was clearly using well-honed material throughout, and the Sarf London gags, I suspect, were also not on their first outing, but who cares when it's so confidently delivered? Lots of jokes about antique markets and Maze Hill, these age-buffed Greenwich gags rubbed shoulders effortlessly with off-the-cuff things that came to him on the spot. That kind of delivery only comes from years on the coalface of comedy.

There's comedy on all week at Greenwich Theatre, but I can't see anything eclipsing Mark Steel's amiable Angry Man. Let me know if you see anyone else...

The Hound(s) of the Baskervilles

Greenwich Theatre, The Duchess Theatre

Aaaarrrrooooooo!! Sherlock Holmes Mysteries, eh. They're just like Omnibuses. You wait ages then two come along at once...

The Hound of the Baskervilles

Greenwich Theatre, SE10

Greenwich Theatre only hosts its own professional productions once a year - the panto. The rest of the year it's a touring house which means that it's only as good as the shows that visit it. Sometimes they're a misfire, but more often than not they're very good indeed.

This is a stylish production. Gauze flats which, if you sit in the centre of the auditorium look as though they are an open book (not sure whether they'd work so well from the side) serve as a screen for back-projections - generally effective, especially the great animations - it's very hard to have an horrific beast on stage that doesn't look daft, but this was actually quite a creepy figure. The other animations seemed to fit well in its Edwardian feel; that they were slightly out-of-focus wasn't a problem. I'm not convinced that the same out-of-focusness worked for the projections of an open book used the rest of the time. I spent too much time wondering whether this was deliberate so that people couldn't actually read it during the play - or just out-of-focus. When one's mind keeps wandering back to a part of the set, then there's something not quite working somewhere.

The play itself, for the most part, did work. Peter Egan's Holmes was suitably insufferable - striding and posing and saying unforgivable things to poor old Watson, to whom Phillip Franks gave some real depth. I truly felt for him; he was certainly much more than a mere sidekick in this interpretation, and the balance of the relationship between the pair was much more equal than in many versions. I really got the feeling that Holmes needed Watson, and a couple of the lines left Holmes quite vulnerable - not that that stopped him strutting around and driving everyone mad - as only Sherlock Holmes can.

The other three cast members, as is traditional, played all the other characters. All three gave sturdy performances, though it was never in any doubt who the leads were.

It's directed by the same guy who brought us The Woman in Black, and there was at least one genuinely creepy moment in it. I wasn't too sure about the way that sundry literary quotes were shoehorned into the script - they felt like they'd been added for brownie points only - and the ending was bizarre in the extreme; the last line a complete non-sequitur. On the whole, though, this is a stylish, assured production with the well-buffed polish of a show that has been touring for some time. An intriguing 'control' show, then, for

The Hound of the Baskervilles

Duchess Theatre, W1

Boy oh boy am I glad I wrote the bit above yesterday morning. I have just realised that seeing two productions of the same story on consecutive days may help basic plot details but in every other respect it's a very silly idea. A good job, then, that this version of HotB is very silly itself.

I spent the whole of the first half trying to work out why they'd cast a Spanish actor as Holmes. It's a brilliant decision, thought I, (he is extremely funny) but rather left-field. And if the Peter Egan production had only five actors, it was positively lavish in comparison to the three on stage in front of me here.

It took a little reading up at the interval to find that it's been created by an established theatre group, Peepolykus, and that regulars would know these guys from previous shows they've done together.

It's wonderfully inventive - has to be, as 'large budget' was probably not a phrase bandied about at rehearsals. But, as I was taught at college, constraints lead to creativity, and in this case seeing the nutty ways they got round what might have been problems for anyone else was part of the maniacal fun.

From the moment a splendid fellow in top hat and sideboards steps forward to a series of quite remarkably-produced sound effects, you know you are in the realm of the bizarre. I can't say that it's unseen on the West End - the superlative The 39 Steps, currently at the Criterion, which won an Olivier last month, probably paved the way for the go-ahead on this production, but when you have a merry tear running from your eye in the first few seconds of a show, you're hardly going to complain that there are two silly spoofs in London just now.

Javier Marzan's Holmes is completely barking mad. There's no other way of describing it. He makes the most of his heavy Spanish accent, puffing on an enormous curly pipe and wearing a natty deerstalker and caped coat. When he's "Holmes in disguise," only the fabric changes, making him a grotty coach driver in deerstalker and cape, and a stinking old tramp in rabbit-skin deerstalker and cape. His "indoor" velvet deerstalker-combo is particularly fetching, and acts as a good sausage receptacle later on (no - you'll just have to see it...)

Watson in this version is, unlike the sensitive soul portrayed in the Greenwich version, a gaping loon, the Laurel to Holmes's Hardy. Together they pursue their crazy quarry to, well, a quarry. The "other" characters were fabulously bonkers stereotypes whose gags were seamlessly inserted into the show later on.

I particularly liked the bits where they realised the show was running a bit short (did this start at Edinburgh, I wonder, where all the shows last an hour?) and they tacked on some 'extra scenes' which worked superbly well.

Every scene layers on the silliness and, coupled with some clever tricks (one of which I still can't work out how was done) and inventive performances (Javier Marzan in a frock and beard is worth the entrance price alone) it makes for one of the funniest nights I've experienced in some time. Well - since I saw The 39 Steps, actually.

I don't think this quite eclipses The 39 Steps, so if you're only going to see one crazed anarchical comedy this spring, see that, but my face ached by the end of this show and I heartily recommend it. Hurry up, it only lasts for 10 weeks, but if you go before 8th May all tickets are £ 20. And the other Hound, at Greenwich only lasts til Saturday, and is also well worth a viewing, so get your skates on...

Note to Greenwich Theatre - get these guys Peepoluykus at Greenwich - they're fab. Oh - and as a non sequitur to match that of the Greenwich version of HotB, when are you going to get the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain back?

Indigo 2

Hmm.

I confess I am, in general, quite excited about what's happening at the Dome (no -I'm not going to call it that stupid corporate name until I really have to) and it's only because nothing at the Arena appeals to me and I'm not prepared to spend ridiculous amounts on buying a ticket for something I'm not interested in that I've not got tickets to the first night(aye, there's the rub of the whole Phantom gig - I might be able to say what I like about things but I don't get any freebies.)

But I've been uncomfortable about not being there, so when I saw an ad in the News Shopper for the Indigo2 music venue (what are their PR department up to, one wonders - surely you'd have thought they could get a bit of editorial...) I thought I'd book up for something.

I didn't bother taking the paper upstairs to book - I pride myself at finding things on the net - but after about 20 minutes of floundering around insubstantial websites I gave up and went downstairs to get the address (if you're interested it's www.theindigo2.com.) Trouble is, the site looks good - but it misses out what the place actually looks like, so when you come to book you have no idea of where you're going to be or whether it's best to sit or stand.

What, for example, is "The King's Row?" You'll pay £ 40 for the privilege of sitting there. It says it's the VIP bit - but where is it? Quite often the VIP areas are just hosting corporate clients who aren't actually interested in the event so it's noisy and difficult to see anything for all the horsey people quaffing champagne.

Ticket prices are not cheap. They start at £ 30 for standing, and some of the tables also cost £ 30 - but I can't tell whether you'd actually be able to see anything if you sat in one - or whether the people standing in front would block your view. The centre seats are £ 35 and there seem to be some more expensive ones at £ 39.50 (only on some ticket websites) which for the extra 50p you might as well sit in that mythical Kings Row.

Its being a new venue, nobody knows. It would have been really helpful to get a seating plan - or even some kind of flowery description. There's a fairly rubbish artist's impression which could be bloody anywhere and, er, that's it. Is there food? Who knows. Is there drink? Probably. Do you have to drink? Only time will tell.

After a lot of faffing around on the ticketmaster site I gritted my teeth and bought tickets - but oh-my-god it hurts. The actual price paid isn't just the face value, of course.

It costs a whopping £ 4.75 PER TICKET extra PLUS £ 2.75 postage. What are they going to send them in? Gold envelopes?

These extra charges really stick in my craw. And you can't avoid them because there's no box office to visit in person. GGGGGRRRRRRR. Presumably once there is a box office they won't actually be able to charge the postage any more, but I'll wait to see whether that sodding "service charge" remains.

What I don't get is why they don't make the tickets themselves more expensive and hide the "service charge." (probably some tax-y VAT thing, I guess, but it's still crap.)

I don't know any more than anyone else what the Indigo2 venue's going to be like. But it had better be bloody good for these prices and the amount of time I've just spent buying the tickets.

I'll report further developments as I hear them.

The North Pole

Greenwich High Road, SE10

A venue on three floors - A young, funky bar on the ground floor, a smart restaurant upstairs and a groovy nightclub The South Pole downstairs.

I first went to the restaurant in the 90s before I moved to Greenwich, for a business lunch, and I guess I'd always associated it with business lunches ever since and not bothered visiting. At the time it had only been open for a week and it was dazzlingly fresh and smart. Giant chandeliers with glass bowls hung from the ceiling, complete with goldfish swimming round and round; large bowls of fresh gladioli stood in the window sills, surrounded by deep swag curtains. I remember wondering at the time how long that all would last - not least because the only way to feed those fish would be to climb on a stepladder, and the only way to clear them out would be to take the whole chandelier down.

There is a separate entrance for the restaurant, but it isn't always used, so that the way in is through the hip bar below. Richly dark, the partition walls inside are punctuated with water feature windows - slim tanks of underlit water which constantly bubble up creating a virtual net curtain. The main bar is dark and intimate, with light fittings made from pieces of chandelier glass, the "VIP" lounge area at the back louchely furnished with outsize sofas in cowskin. The only things that spoil the effect are the four SKY TV screens constantly blaring out the Live Match, making it impossible to escape from the telly, and totally breaking any funky atmosphere the place might have had.

I did have a little smile at one online review which talks about how some guy had come along to watch a big En-ger-land match and complained at the lack of tasty female talent in the bar...

The way up to the restaurant is via a spiral staircase, lit by disco rope lights, just this side of tacky. At the top, a gigantic old-fashioned chandelier is a very welcome sight.

The atmosphere above is very different to that of the bar . Dark red painted walls and heavy swag curtains at the windows affect a much more classy air, the high ceilings hi-lit by twinkling fairy lights. There are two rooms - one dominated by a baby grand piano, which is played from time to time which is rather nice (personally I'd avoid the Rat Pack tribute evenings where some bloke pretends to be Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra - no one can imitate Sammy - but some people like that sort of thing...) It is, unsurprisingly, decorated with framed black & white photographs of Rat Pack favourites - a slightly tired idea now, but then I guess this was decorated in the 90s.

The "Fine Dining Room" next door is divided with a glass door. The decor is much the same save that the framed pictures have a more botanical theme.

The food is modern European. The menu is appealing, with some really nice options. My companion's fois-gras was tasty and came with a sauce that virtually saw him licking the plate. Some of the presentation is a bit cliched - am I the only person who's getting a bit bored of the "tower of food" concept where everything's placed on top of everything else with an artistic drizzle of sauce - sorry, jus - around the outside? Still, it tasted very good indeed - and you can't knock that.

The Lamb Chump was equally good - generous portions and nicely presented. My risotto was a little less exciting - a watery basic-stock relying on the flavour of the additions for taste - but it was well-cooked and nicely filling.

The service was sweet and attentive. Our waitress was on her own and only just managing, juggling opening our wine with trying to take a booking on her mobile phone. That's hardly her fault. She was chatty without being intrusive, friendly and very human. She told us that she'd been attacked on her way home to Brockley so many times that she now gets a cab home when she finishes at 2.00am (not paid for by the management.)

I had noticed that the chandelier in the "fine dining room" still had some (rather murky) water in it and a piece of pondweed floating on top, but no goldfish. Our waitress told us, almost with tears in her eyes, that it had just died. She feeds the goldfish herself and when one dies she gets very upset. She climbs a ladder to get to them, but the water's not as clear as it could be because she's not strong enough to lift down the light fitting and has to rely on someone else to do it.
So. Another mystery solved.

I like the North Pole. I wouldn't visit the bar on an important match day, but the restaurant is still pretty smart (even if the glads have now been replaced by artificial flowers) the food is good and the service very sweet indeed.

Tuesday Nights at Olivers

You know I'm always moaning that we never know what's on at Olivers? Well it seems the artists have taken it into their own hands (probably wise) and, on Tuesdays at least we can now find out.

Go to Von Twist's site to find listings of what he compares every week. I'll pop along myself when I get a free Tuesday (sadly not for a few weeks just yet...)

Let me know what you think if you go.

www.myspace.com/thetwistacoustic

Tutankhamun Exhibition

Am I the only one who's getting slightly cross with the papers at the moment? Have you seen all those headlines about curses and Pharaohs and Domes just because we're not getting the boy-king's golden mask at the forthcoming exhibition?

If the mask is too delicate to leave Egypt, as Dr Zahi Hawass says - or even if the Egyptians choose to keep the mask for frankly understandably touristic reasons, it's NOTHING TO DO WITH THE DOME.

It didn't go to Philadelphia and we ALWAYS KNEW it wouldn't be coming here - so what's the big deal with all the headlines this week? We've got everything else - now that we're not getting the casino - and I personally can't wait to see the treasures which I didn't get to see the first time round because I was 'too young' and my parents thought I'd want the toilet just as they got to the front of the mile-long queue.

Which is why I thought I'd share a link I've just discovered on the 02 (God I hate typing that name) website where you can register your interest in up to 8 tickets for the exhibition. You don't have to say what day you want to go - or even part with any cash up front, but you will get a unique registration number which will guarantee you get tickets. Given that it's almost certainly going to sell out, in my book it's worth signing up even if you don't know if you're going yet. I note they're being somewhat coy about how much the tickets will actually cost...


http://www.kingtut.org/plan_your_visit/london

Blockbuster

Trafalgar Rd

I know, I know. You weren't expecting me to like this, were you...

Blockbuster is hardly the Home of Alternative Cinema. The selection of anything that isn't, well - blockbusters - is extremely limited and frankly, given the size of the store, the selection of anything at all isn't wild, with far too much space given over to cheap retail DVDs and computer games for my personal taste. My own choice would be a small independent that stocked a wide range of Hollywood Action, European Art and Japanese Manga along with everything in between.

But - and it's a big but - given that we have a chain, the next best thing to an indie store is personal service of the kind you get here.

Greenwich Blockbuster has some really knowledgeable, helpful and friendly staff who will take as much time as you need to find something they think you'll like, whilst also wryly acknowledging the limited range. They'll talk to you about the sort of thing you like and recommend stuff they think you'll enjoy. They're not always spot-on - but they try - and then remember to ask if you enjoyed what you borrowed. They have even been known to advise me not to take one DVD because they thought it really was tosh and another title because it would be on special offer the following week.

To be singled out in particular is the big guy who works there - if he's not in the store you might find him lurking outside with a sneaky fag. He goes to inordinate lengths to help. The two young guys who seem to be there when the big chap isn't are also very friendly.

Obviously, you're going to get the best service if you don't go in at 7.00pm on a Friday night - but I have never known these guys to be anything other than helpful.

So. A chain I like. Though if these guys were to strike out on their own and start a really good DVD rental shop I'd be there like a shot. Not that I'm hinting or anything.

BTW has anyone tried those mail-order rental firms? I can't ever see myself organised enough to think that a) I'll want to watch a DVD in two day's time and b) I'll know what movie I'll be in the mood for. Are other people like that too?

Ok. Just me then...

The Frog & Radiator/ Ship &Billet

Matt from Londonist asks:









"Is the Frog & Radiator still there? Not the best pub ever - but what a name."

As the splendid name, no, but that's not such a bad thing. It had been pretty grotty for some time. It went through a rather schizophrenic period a year or so ago where it couldn't decide who it was anymore. It suddenly closed down overnight - the circumstances looked a bit iffy if you ask me, but I don't know any details.

Next thing we knew it had re-opened, half done-up. That strange Frog and Radiator sign was still there, as was the name above the pub, but it had that frosted-glass effect on the windows which clearly called itself the Ship & Billet (does anyone know if this is the pub's original name?) It stayed like this for months before finally getting the rest of its revamp and finally got a 'proper' sign with a nice ship on it.

I have to say that it does look pretty smart now, though as all owners of pubs will know, they don't get to choose their clientele and smart though it may look, you see the same regulars as ever going in. On Saturday nights they have discos, with bouncers outside and I have seen posters for live music which is NEVER a bad thing, but I haven't actually been to any.

But I'll give them this. It looks great from the outside in a street that needs all the help it can get.

BTW the sister pub in Deptford, The Frog and Nightgown, also seems to have bitten the dust some time ago.

"Plunder"

The Greenwich Theatre

In one of our occasional moments of "use it or lose it," we decided to support our local theatre last night. Greenwich Theatre has had its ups and downs over the years and sometimes the only time people actually seem to notice it is when it's on the skids.

We weren't too sure about it - when the only review a play can find to advertise it seems to be some very carefully chosen words from the News Shopper, you have to think twice about something, but we went anyway.

And I have to say it was a good production. Of a bad play, that is. The cast had obviously realised back at the Watermill Theatre in Newbury that the paucity of actual gags in it meant that they'd have to make up for it in dumbshow, mugging and extra business, and they worked overtime to squeeze every last snigger possible out of it, which was sadly still not enough to guarantee a smile ever ten minutes or so.

My biggest question was what on earth the producer was thinking of reviving this museum piece in the first place. Ben Travers is one of the most famous Farcemongers of the Twentieth Century, but this is really not his finest hour. He seems to have been having some crisis of genre - or, as one companion suggested, he had been writing three different plays, suddenly had a deadline and cobbled them all together to make one unfeasible concoction of police procedural, Agatha Christie whodunnit and parlour drama. The farce was added afterwards, with a few people coming in and out of doors via the subtle means of one character saying to another "you wait outside which I'll tell someone a bit of important plot in front of the audience and, oh - take him with you."

Farce is light, fluffy nonsense. This is laboured, dated and doesn't actually make sense - whatever else farce is, it HAS to at least be logical. At one point in this, a character actually exits through the front door then reappears seconds later coming downstairs...

There was a moment in Act II where it did look like things were looking up where the usual dead-of-night-underhand-business-in-and-out-of-doors-in-a-country-house began. It lasted about five minutes before we were treated to a long scene "back at the Yard" where two plods laboured their way through a bunch of clues we already knew.

I repeat this is a good production. The set was fresh and funky, the acting really very good considering the material, but nothing was going to save this from creaking worse than the Cutty Sark.

My current theory is that the producer went to the theatre as a small boy and saw this play. In the olden days, apparently, people found it hilarious (as, indeed, we are informed, preview audiences at The Watermill thought it too) and possibly he has grown old remembering that first great experience that made him want to Go Into Theatre. It had always been his dream to revive such a masterpiece - he would know he had "made it" when he brought his own production of it to the stage.

Dear oh Dear. I don't blame Greenwich Theatre for having booked this. The pre-publicity is excellent - good posters and strong flyers and visuals. The design is great and the information they would have been sent was - well - enough to make me want to go. I don't blame the actors either - they did sterling work. But really. Material like this should be consigned to a single bound volume in the 'restricted' section of the British Library. In the hands of an amateur cast it could be lethal.

If you want to see a farce, I hear Boeing Boeing is excellent. If you fancy something with a period flavour I can't recommend highly enough the Criterion's superb The 39 Steps.

In the meanwhile, I will continue to support Greenwich Theatre. See my review of Sleeping Beauty for an example of what they can come up with, and home grown, too. I'm going to try to get to see the rest of the productions this season - and I hope you will too. Part of the charm of theatre is that you never know what you're going to get...

Popcorn

Last night I revisited my past. Somewhere I had not set foot since the Picturehouse opened 18 months ago. Of course the soulless industrial cylinder that calls itself a cinema wasn't called the Odeon then, it was Filmworks, but in every other respect this place hasn't changed one iota. It's still a garish wind tunnel of a building designed by someone who knew they would never actually have to sit in it.

Everything I moaned about then is true now - the non-allocated, suspiciously-stained seats, the miserable ticket-buying area, the dismal waiting area, the worse free-for-all when gangs of spotty teenagers clutching tickets all descend at once on other spotty teenagers trying to tear tickets - you know the score - we've all been there. Outside, it's even worse - dreary chain restaurants - though in a small triumph McDonalds closed recently - surely a first for the mighty empire.

Which is why, in theory, Popcorn, the latest film "set" in Greenwich (don't get excited - it could be any multiplex in the Western World) should have worked. It was almost entirely filmed in Greenwich Filmworks (though a continuity mistake in the first few moments shows it as both Filmworks and the fictional "Moovieworld")and actually starring sundry spotty teenage actors, one or two of whom I suspect I should have heard of.

Looking at the others sitting in Screen 4, I realised we were the only actual punters. I was clearly surrounded by the movie makers themselves. I began to whether the crew had managed to annoy the cinema staff when we had a spot of bother getting anyone to be the slightest bit interested in our screen and we didn't get any adverts at all - a first for the Odeon, surely.

It's a mediocre film - I would rather think so even for the target audience unless they were virtually illiterate. A rom-com about the people who work in a multiplex, the "comedy" relied almost entirely on saying rude words and showing various topless birds, and the action was slow. The acting was, on the whole, wooden, though I couldn't work out whether this was due to the actors themselves or the bog-awful script which obviously thinks it is a lot cleverer than it is.


There is a knowingness about this film which leaves a bad taste in the mouth. A by-the-numbers romance playing on the concept of movie cliche, it seems to both wink at the viewer and sneer at them at the same time. There was no noticeable respect for the target audience - 14 year-old boys, I would say from the lesbians and scatological humour - the writers had clearly thought of them in stereotypical terms rather than as individuals who made up a group.

The casting is suspiciously young - like some Children's Film Foundation project - and while it can just about get away with it - after all the staff at the Odeon are hardly out of nappies themselves - it needed the gravitas of age to fill roles such as that of the projectionist Zak, who did what he could with a duff part, but who was basically just too young. Some of the other acting was just plain bad.

The only person who really came out of this well was the ex-soap star, Jack Ryder. I vaguely remember him as some airhead who got himself photographed by the paparazzi coming out of Annabel's with a dolly bird on each arm, so it was a revelation to see him play the awkward, gawky lead with such conviction and sympathy. I really believed this guy was rubbish with girls and warmed to him because he injected some of himself into his character - which can't have been easy under the circumstances.

The film-within-a-film sequences were contrived and, as far as I can see, merely included to add some cheap gags, albeit on two levels - tits-&-ass for the teenagers, knowing winks to the film makers' mates. I did like the graphic novel/photo-love story influences - but would have liked to have seen it followed through.

Robert Rodriguez made El Mariachi on a budget of $7,000. He used almost entirely non-actors, toy guns and office chairs and wheelchairs instead of proper equipment. His film doesn't always stay in focus, sync or even sometimes make sense. But that guy managed to put creativity on the screen instead of cash. He got performances out of his actors, made art out of adversity. He put his very soul up there. Here there is a gaping void in the soul department. I don't know what the budget was, but it must have been more than $7,000 - if it wasn't, I take it all back and the director is some kind of god.

After endless credits including the unfunniest outtakes ever - people forgettting lines does not humour make - the film ended (to much applause from the audience) and we stumbled out in the dark to no music or any help from the staff, the Forgotten Audience. I could only assume that either the Odeon staff is even worse than I remember - or that the crew had really pissed off the poor buggers who work there whilst filming.

We crept out virtually unnoticed by the film makers. I'll be back in the Picturehouse tonight...

Note to later edition: If by some bizarre chance, you fancy actually seeing Popcorn you'll have to travel It didn't last the weekend...

Maybe Blockbuster in a month's time?

"Sleeping Beauty" (Oh, No it isn't)

It's panto time again!

Last night, as I do every year, I went to Greenwich Theatre's latest offering to the festive gods. Usually a whole bunch of us go and it signals the beginning of the Christmas season.

Actually, after last year I hadn't intended to bother with this one - I had been very disappointed with the production.

I had been sad to see London Bubble stop doing the panto at Greenwich - "artistic differences" was the reason quoted. Bubble's rough-and ready style doesn't always hit the mark - and sometimes the miss is quite wide - but it's always interesting. I used to particularly love the dame who made no effort whatsoever to be anything other than a bloke in a dress and was all the funnier for it, but other bits were often rather lame in the director's quest not to "do panto" - apparently he hates the medium and spent most of his time trying to create anything other than good old fashioned fun - which in my book is a shame. Panto is what it is and that's it.

I was very pleased to see that the replacement company was to be Natural Theatre. Which made my disappointment last year double. Perhaps, I thought afterwards, I had been expecting too much - after all Natural Theatre was one of my favourite theatre companies when I was a student and many years later, memories of people wearing flower pots instead of heads and productions such as Scarlatti's Birthday and Eat Me had possibly warped to unattainable brilliance in my mind. But the script was poor, the Dame wasn't the indomitable Ralph Oswick but some bloke who wished he was Eddie Izzard and wasn't and the whole thing was very lacklustre. Only Abanazer was any good.

So I took the precaution this year of getting really rather drunk before seeing the show. I needn't have bothered. This year's show is everything last year's wasn't. It's slick, fast-paced, funny, silly, tuneful and good to look at. The performances are spot-on - especially that of Paul Critoph as the King (just wonderful - a literally-rounded, jolly Ole King Cole of a performance which made me smile whenever he was onstage) and Andrew Pollard as Nanny Fanny - clearly a very experienced dame - and writer. Even the leads - usually thankless wet roles- were sparky and fun. Lots of good effects and appropriate songs - not performed to death - and fun for kiddies and adults in equal measure. I particularly liked the good fairy singing "holding out for a hero" and the rude banana gag. I inwardly groaned when the obligatory "lovers' song" began, but ended up laughing the most at the naughty upstaging that the rest of the cast indulged in mercilessly behind the hapless pair.

Just in case it seems that I may have had my judgement impaired, I brought along several friends who were driving and therefore drinking very responsibly indeed - and they loved it too - even the curmudgeon who normally hates panto.

Seriously folks. Grab a kid (or a kid-at-heart) and see this show. It's fabulous.

Greenwich Theatre

GREENWICH THEATRE

This oddity has survived many a precarious time and gone through a good half-dozen names in its time.

It was called "Crowders Music Hall" for a while in the 19th Century - there were some posters for it in the Spread Eagle Restaurant until it closed "for reburbishment." I have no idea what happened to the posters.

From the outside, you'd think you were going into an old Music Hall- the main entrance on Crooms Hill is most theatrical, lit by dozens of classic bare bulbs, and the side entrance opens out onto a fabulously Dickensian street. So it's curious to walk inside the theatre and find that it's all stripped pine and laminate flooring inside. The box office and bar area, as well as a fairly perfunctory café are bright and cheery and always have a good selection of leaflets and posters about what's going on in the area as well as the theatre itself (It's a good place to pick up The Guide local magazine if your household is, like ours, deemed not posh enough to get it posted through the door.) The bar does good drinks but there's not nearly enough seating, leaving most people standing before the show and during the interval.

The modern auditorium is a great size - big enough to take a nice crowd, but small enough to stay intimate. They do a range of in-house and touring shows of varying quality - but then doesn't every theatre? It attracts a strong local following and we try to get there as often as possible. In fact we used to come here even before we even moved here officially, as part of a big group of mates who go to the panto every year. It's a tradition amongst us now, and I usually find that a few glasses of the not-bad wine before going inside makes the jokes even funnier. Problem is that I find myself waiting for the dame/ugly sisters/ behind yous and oh no you didn'ts when I go to the serious stuff during the rest of the year.

A friend recently went to an all-night 'paranormal investigation' at the theatre. I will leave him to write about his experiences on another occasion...

Greenwich Theatre

GREENWICH THEATRE

This oddity has survived many a precarious time and gone through a good half-dozen names in its time.

It was called "Crowders Music Hall" for a while in the 19th Century – there were some posters for it in the Spread Eagle Restaurant until it closed "for reburbishment." I have no idea what happened to the posters.

From the outside, you'd think you were going into an old Music Hall – the main entrance on Crooms Hill is most theatrical, lit by dozens of classic bare bulbs, and the side entrance opens out onto a fabulously Dickensian street. So it's curious to walk inside the theatre and find that it's all stripped pine and laminate flooring inside. The box office and bar area, as well as a fairly perfunctory café are bright and cheery and always have a good selection of leaflets and posters about what's going on in the area as well as the theatre itself (It's a good place to pick up The Guide local magazine if your household is, like ours, deemed not posh enough to get it posted through the door.) The bar does good drinks but there's not nearly enough seating, leaving most people standing before the show and during the interval.

The modern auditorium is a great size – big enough to take a nice crowd, but small enough to stay intimate. They do a range of in-house and touring shows of varying quality – but then doesn't every theatre? It attracts a strong local following and we try to get there as often as possible. In fact we used to come here even before we even moved here officially, as part of a big group of mates who go to the panto every year. It's a tradition amongst us now, and I usually find that a few glasses of the not-bad wine before going inside makes the jokes even funnier. Problem is that I find myself waiting for the dame/ugly sisters/behind you's and oh no you didn'ts when I go to the serious stuff during the rest of the year.

A friend recently went to an all-night "paranormal investigation" at the theatre. I will leave him to write about his experiences on another occasion...

Olivers

You could very easily miss Oliver's. Tucked away downstairs in a mews opposite the Greenwich Theatre, the entrance looks like the back door to some dodgy dive - and in some respects Olivers is exactly that.

From the faded grandeur of the furniture to the swirling cast iron balcony steps, from the seedy-looking bandstand surrounded by mouldering instruments to the tiny bar itself, Oliver's oozes a louche sexuality so missing in most bars today. Imagine a seedy Weimar Berlin nightclub, add some jazz (there is live music several nights a week - basically whenever its enjoyably eccentric and extremely Gallic owner Olivier decides he fancies some jazz,) light a Gauloise and enjoy the atmosphere. A fabulous, intimate venue, though the piano isn't tuned often enough...

The Greenwich Picturehouse

THE grand opening of last year was Greenwich Picturehouse, the latest in the slightly-arthouse chain which is gradually taking over/saving our smaller indie cinemas. It was certainly well-anticipated in this household and we were among the first to take up membership before the place had even opened. Naturally we didn't go for the 'foundation' membership which, at £ 400 seemed a bit steep for benefits which largely amounted to being able to choose the wine that was served in the bar, but the ordinary membership seems excellent value and we're making full use of it.

Of course there were a few teething problems that night - turning an old, non-profitable cinema into a multi-screen picture house is always going to present a few hitches - on opening night there were lots of bits of cardboard which said "I am a plasma screen" or "I am a ticket dispenser" and the ladies' was flooded - but generally, once all the fuss died down, the Picturehouse began living up to expectation. A wide and interesting programme of events which don't always include screenings - comedy and music are both scheduled there, and a lovely bar area (with equally lovely bartenders - both attentive and friendly) make it most definitely a destination in its own right though I think the promised "views of the river" are a little far-fetched unless they start providing periscopes.

There's a gorgeous mini screening room downstairs with very squashy seats (they slide out so that you're virtually horizontal - it's like watching a movie in bed) and a bar, and I even like the chandelier in the foyer (though it's just asking to be plaited by bored teenagers...)

The sliding seats (even though they don't go quite as far as those in the screening room) get top marks - as does the Picturehouse's attitude - hooray for a cinema that treats you like an adult.

Splendid events in the Screening Room downstairs include "Future Shorts" collections of short films by up-and-coming directors. Avoid Thursday morning screenings if you want to be able to actually see the movie - it's their weekly "Big Scream" screening where people with children under one year old can go along and 'enjoy' watching a film surrounded by a hundred other screaming tots being changed by doting parents. I think it's a brilliant idea - it means we all get to see the film - and I thank them for letting me see my version in peace...

Other great innovations are the "Silver Screenings" for over 60s before 6.00pm on a Thursday and the Kids Club on Saturday mornings with games and activities as well as a film so that you can park the little darlings with Someone Else and go off and enjoy the market in some peace. There are even specially-loud screenings for the hearing-impaired and specially-quiet screenings for autistic people.

If you're counting the pennies, on Monday nights all tickets are a fiver, but it's still worth mentioning you're a member when you call, then they don't charge a booking fee.

The tapas bar serves a variety of classic recipes, somewhat erratically presented (that's a kind description.) We've had very muddled service which has missed out some dishes completely. The food is of varying quality too - sometimes ok, sometimes really rather poor - barely cooked potato in the omelette has happened a couple of times now, and I find myself wondering what the large quantities of cream in some dishes are hiding...

I might add that I don't believe the Tapas Bar is anything to do with the actual Picture House except that it occupies the same building.

On the whole, Greenwich Picturehouse gets my thumbs most definitely UP. Filmworks, though geographically closer, will have to work hard to get my personal custom back.

Last night, one year on from all the furore, we decided to visit the Picturehouse again. It's all much as it was - still shiny and new-feeling - though frankly now the mists have cleared from my eyes there are a few improvements they could make - like unplaiting the chandelier (why didn't they see that coming?) and - more urgently - either finding a way to install more ladies loos or at least staggering the endings of films so the queue doesn't reach the Cutty Sark.

That we walked out of A Scanner Darkly isn't really the Picturehouse's fault. I guess it's down to us to ignore the gushing accolades in the brochure - after all even the Picturehouse can't really be totally honest about movies that they are going to show. We picked badly - any film that has to be dressed up with groovy graphics must have something wrong with the plot and when after just half an hour I realised that even the Picturehouse's famously comfy seats couldn't slow down the numbing of my backside, I was grateful when my companion (note newspaper reviewer speak) whispered that he was bored and we quietly left. I noticed some other people doing the same behind us as if they were just waiting for someone else to do it first.

So - to sum up, the Picturehouse is still fantastic. A Scanner Darkly probably never has been. A tedious tale of 'great trips I have known' dressed up in cartoon form with a rotoscope to try to make up for inadequacies of the plot, it is the first movie I have ever walked out of.

Greenwich Picturehouse is one of The Phantom's Favourite Haunts.

www.picturehouses.co.uk

The Greenwich Odeon

GREENWICH Odeon

Up until recently, for a long time, the only cinema in Greenwich was the oddly cylindrical Odeon on the Peninsula.

With the sad demise ages ago of the cinema at the Blackheath Standard (now a Somerfields, for chrissake!) and the equally ancient death of the Plaza on Woolwich Road (mainly flats – even the old Chinese restaurant is now a bookie's and rumoured to become a LAP DANCING CLUB – come back Gala Bingo, all is forgiven…) the Filmworks with its extraordinary architecture and wind-tunnel-esque centre core was left to reign supreme.

But like any big fish in a small pond, it got lazy. Firstly, the inability to book seats (most tickets are un-numbered) forces you to queue up and watch all the crummy adverts (yes, yes, I can see the commercial point of it, but...) But the queuing system is so rubbish that there's more order in a rugby scrum and the hapless, usually spotty teenage ushers are ill-equipped to deal with the accompanying frayed tempers.

The queue is also next to the unfeasibly seedy bar area (how can an open-plan bar manage this, I wonder?) and, being the only place where smoking is allowed and therefore more like an opium den than a pub, queuing for the movie makes you feel like a beagle in a laboratory.

Inside, it's ok – as long as you check out the screen you're going to be in – some of the 14 screens are so titchy you might as well get your movie out on DVD and watch it at home – luckily there's a facility on the website to make sure which screen you'll be in. Oh – and forget the "gallery" where you pay squillions extra to book a seat and get a 'free' drink. It's just the back couple of rows with slightly wider seats and in no way does it separate you off from the hoardes of slack-jawed teenagers in front talking throughout the movie.
If you really want to sit at the back, get there early and sit one row in front of the "gallery" with your own pop... it's much the same effect.

The Odeon does have its good points. Firstly, it has 'director's cut' screenings where they show non action/rom-com/superhero stuff at times when they can't get their normal crowd – something to be applauded.

Secondly, it hosts the Greenwich Film Festival – though the blink-and-you'd-miss it advertising doesn't make as much of it as it might.

Thirdly, the armrests move, so you can cuddle up to your date (aaaahhh...) And, of course, it shows the kind of action hero/rom-com fare that make Saturday nights a brighter place. The big screens – of which they have several – are enormous – a true cinematic experience. Oh, and there are movie quotes in the loos – cleverly chosen so that you come out all smug thinking they've quoted them wrong, and then when you check, you have to admit, shamefaced, that they got it right after all.

I wondered what would happen to the Odeon when the Picturehouse opened last year to great general excitement. I feared that there would be some horrible standoff and a bloodbath in which we'd lose both cinemas. As it turns out, it would seem that they do in fact serve different markets - the Odeon seems to cater for the teenage crowds who like hanging around empty shopping centres after closing time; the Picturehouse is after the slightly more cerebral crowd who occasionally like a film with subtitles.

I'm nailing my colours to the mast. I'm a Picturehouse fan myself - though I do occasionally visit the Odeon if I missed something at the Picturehouse - or if it's something that warrants a MASSIVE screen. But though its geographically closer to me, the Odeon just doesn't look after me the way the Picturehouse does. When the screen was fuzzy in the Picturehouse I nipped out to mention it and it was sorted instantly. When the same thing happened at the Odeon, I just got looked at in a "what do you want me to do about it" fashion.