Friday Arts Diary

Our cultural picks for the week ahead.

Film

Returning to Oz. BFI, Southbank, London SE1, 1-14 March 

In anticipation of Sam Raimi’s soon-to-be-released Oz: The Great and Powerful, the BFI will be screening Victor Fleming’s 1939 classic film The wizard of Oz as well as two early film adaptations: The Patchwork Girl of Oz (1914) with live piano on 1 and 3 March, and The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1910) which is the earliest surviving film of the Oz story.

Dance

Mise en Scene.  Barbican Centre, London EC2, until 9 June

Leading contemporary artist Philippe Parreno has devised this performance in conjunction with the Barbican’s featured exhibition- The Bride and Bachelors: Duchamp with Cage, Cunningham, Rauschenberg, and Johns. Inspired by the choreography of Cunningham and the music of John Cage, two Yamaha Disklavier pianos will be playing his scores during the dancers’ performances. Due to Cage’s fervent interest in soundscapes, Parreno has devised his own interpretation of Cage’s 4’33”

Live dance "Events"  will be performed on Thursday evenings and weekends throughout the duration of the exhibition by dancers from Richard Alston Dance Company and by students and graduates from London Contemporary Dance School
 

Theatre

The Captain of Kopenick. National Theatre, London SE1, until 4 April

“I used to think all the trouble in the world was caused by people giving orders. Now I reckon that it’s people being so willing to take them.”

Petty criminal Wilhelm Voigt has just been released from prison. He wanders 1910 Berlin in pursuit of his identity papers. When he picks up an abandoned military uniform in a fancy-dress shop, he finds the city ready to obey his every command. At the head of six soldiers, he heads to the Mayor’s office and confiscates the treasury with ease on the grounds of speculated corruption. However, what he seeks is official recognition of his existence. Ron Hutchinson’s humourous take on Carl Zuckmayer’s The Captain of Köpenick, first staged in Germany in 1931, sees Antony Sher starring in the title role.

 

Art

Art13 London. Olympia Grand Hall, London W14, 1–3 March

Art13 London is the capital’s brand new art fair for modern and contemporary art. The first edition will showcase 129 leading galleries from 30  countries and will exhibit thousands of artworks, including painting, sculpture, photography, prints and editions or multimedia, with prices ranging from £100- £500, 000. Sculptures by emerging and established sculptors will be on display outside the fair and a series of free tours, performances, talks and high-profile panel discussions will take place. In addition, 21 large scale sculptures by contemporary sculptors will be exhibited as "Art 13 Projects".

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The Negroni fools no one – it’s easy to make and contains nothing but booze

It is the colour of danger, a red rag to anyone jaded by cocktail-world bull.

The cocktail is designed to lie about its origins; no wonder it reached its apogee during Prohibition, which forced everyone with an unrepentant thirst to lie about their cravings. Even today, when only extreme youth, religious belief or personal inclination prevents a person from draining the bar dry, the cocktail continues its career of dishonesty. It hides ingredients or methods. It provides a front for poor-quality booze. And it often dissolves, within its inscrutable depths, mountains of sugar, enabling drinkers to pose as sophisticates while downing something that tastes like a soft drink – to get drunk without leaving the playpen.

This is why I love the Negroni, which fools no one. It is easy to make and contains nothing but pure booze. Despite being a third sweet vermouth, it isn’t saccharine: the other two thirds, equal measures of gin and Campari, may have something to do with this. And it is the colour of danger, a red rag to anyone jaded by cocktail-world bull.

They say it was invented in Florence at the request of a Count Negroni, who wanted a drink unsullied by club soda – a drink stiff enough to get a man back on a bucking horse, perhaps, since this Count may have been a rodeo rider. I prefer to believe that the Count, if Count he was, came in, tossed down enough strong liquor to start telling stories about his American adventures, and, when he finally staggered out into the night, the exasperated bartender poured three straight shots into a single glass and baptised this wondrous reviver in grateful homage to the fabulist who had inspired it.

In a former glue factory a very long way from Florence or America, the East London Liquor Company now makes very good gin – Batches One and Two, the former tannic with Darjeeling as well as cassia bark, pink grapefruit peel, and coriander seeds; the latter redolent of savoury, bay, thyme and lavender. Transforming these plants into excellent alcohol seems an improvement on boiling down horses for adhesive, and the company also makes superb Negronis from Batch Two.

We sit outside, in a carpark made marginally more glamorous by border boxes of Batch Two botanicals, and marvel at the transformation of this grimy part of East London, next door to a park intended to give Victorian working men brief respite from lives all too lacking in myth or fantasy. It is a reincarnation at least as miraculous as the transformation of three strong and entirely unalike spirits into the delectable harmony of the Negroni. The sun shines; a fountain plashes. Nuts and charcuterie arrive. All is right with the world.

I leave my herbaceous bower and dangerously pleasing drink for a peek at the large copper distillery behind the bar, walking in past the fountain, a whimsical stone construction that pours vermilion liquid into two, tiered basins topped by a chubby putto clutching a rather reluctant fish.

And then I stop. And double back. Vermilion liquid? It is, indeed, a Negroni fountain. There are even slices of orange floating in the basin. I dip a finger: the taste is slightly metallic but still undeniably that potent mixture of booze, botanicals, bitterness, and just a hint of sweetness. A streak of citrus from the orange slices. It turns out that the world’s most straightforward cocktail lends itself to a decadent neo-Renaissance fantasy. There’s a message here, one forthright as a temperance tract: without imagination, we would have no lies – but no Negronis, either.

Nina Caplan is the 2014 Fortnum & Mason Drink Writer of the Year and 2014 Louis Roederer International Wine Columnist of the Year for her columns on drink in the New Statesman. She tweets as @NinaCaplan.

This article first appeared in the 20 July 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The new world disorder