Competition No 3770
Set by John O'Byrne, 24 February
We asked for a review of a book, film or play stacked full of cliches.
Report by Ms de Meaner
You can see my dilemma. Should the person who set the comp be allowed to win? In the end, the standard from the rest of you answered the question: yes. £20 to the winners; the overall winner, Jack Walsh, also gets the Tesco vouchers.
If you only watch one film this year, it simply has to be our very own Kenneth Branagh's immortal production of the Bard's timeless classic Hamlet. With the irrepressible Branagh taking centre stage as the eponymous student prince and Britain's sweetheart, the English rose with the girl-next-door looks, Kate Winslet, as the love interest, this is quite simply a must-see. Branagh's definitive interpretation of the enigmatic Dane will have you on the edge of your seat. Winsome Winslet as the doomed, lovelorn Ophelia will bring a lump to the throat of the most cynical theatregoer. When I saw it for what must have been the nth time - wild horses couldn't keep me away - there wasn't a dry eye in the house. Brian Blessed's ghost will make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The rib-tickling gravediggers will have you rolling in the aisles - or off the settee, if you're curling up with a Blockbuster video, choccies and the proverbial box of Kleenex. Then there's the rip-roaring, swashbuckling finale as our hero meets his tragic end. To see or not to see? At the end of the day, there's no contest. Simply the best. End of story.
David Silverman
A capacity audience rose as one last night as John Cage's new piece, 4'33", reached its stunning climax. They knew, as we all knew, that we had been in the presence of genius. With one performance, Cage crossed the Rubicon, opened the envelope and pushed back the boundaries of contemporary music. Nothing will ever be the same again.
It is difficult to know where to begin, but, from the first, one could hear a pin drop. It speaks volumes for this orchestra that they were able to maintain a steely concentration throughout as the hushed crowd drank their fill of a musical experience without parallel, a veritable "tour de force".
As Cage approached the rostrum, there was a palpable tension in the air, a tension that could not have resisted the daintiest of cake knives. There was a hint of a smile before he turned and, with massive authority, raised his baton. Four minutes and 33 seconds later it was over, the only notes those from the auditorium: a muffled cough, a creaking chair, a standing ovation, a rapturous reception and then, nothing, as we struggled to comprehend what we had just experienced. Silence is golden. It certainly is.
Jack Walsh
Let me cut to the quick, and lay my cards on the table: the acid test of a good play is whether it sets your teeth on edge. It goes without saying that the Scottish play is the real thing. It's full to the brim with blood and guts, with more murders than you can shake a stick at. Be that as it may, it's also a love story. Lady Macbeth is the apple of her husband's eye, although he's a dark horse; more like a bull in a china shop. But her days are numbered. We see her at the end of her tether. To add insult to injury, the lady is a psychopath. However, it all comes out in the wash ("all the perfumes of Arabia, etc") and she leaves him high and dry. He's in a no-win situation. And I don't mean maybe. The high water mark is when you can see the Wood for the trees (the witches are the smoking gun). But that's the way the cookie crumbled. The Bard has hit the nail on the head here and, in a nutshell, this production of Macbeth is a cracker. It was right up my alley. The bottom line? A must-see.
John O'Byrne
Even more than that of D H Lawrence, Henry Miller's work represents a sea change in writing about bodily functions. Here in Tropic of Cancer is a gay Paree where ladies of the night lurk at every street corner and intimacy takes place at the drop of a hat. Private parts, especially of the female variety, are described in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination.
For much of the time, the narrator does not have a regular source of income and food is a minus quantity, so to get a square meal he has to rely on the crumbs that fall from the table of his acquaintances, in return for which he has to listen to the story of their lives. One in particular, a newspaperman whose gift of the gab is spread over page after page, laments at having to live in a city lacking the amenities of God's own country, but perversely seems to enjoy sharing his accommodation with the native fauna of cockroaches and bedbugs. And, even more than the narrator, this personage is obsessed with the exploration of the female form divine.
John Marriott
No 3773 Set by John O'Byrne
Ambrose Bierce's The Devil's Dictionary
defines hanky as "a small square of linen or silk used at funerals to conceal a lack of tears". We'd like definitions in the same vein of: opposition, axis of evil, democracy, public interest, socialism, privatisation, open society, culture, public service, terrorist and market economy.
Entries in by 28 March (to appear in issue dated 7 April). E-mail: comp@newstatesman.co.uk
