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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Beware of tea: the cuppa has started wars and ruined lives

. . . and it once led F Scott Fitzgerald to humiliate himself.

A drink sustains me – one that steams companionably as I write. It is hot, amber and fragranced differently from any wine; nor does it have wine’s capacity to soften and blur. I’ve never understood how the great drunks of literature, Ernest Hemingway, F Scott Fitzgerald and their like, ever put anything on the page more worthwhile than a self-involved howl, though even Hemingway apparently finished the day’s writing before beginning the day’s drinking.

Tea is more kindly, or so I’d always thought. Those aromatic leaves, black or green, rolled and dried and oxidised, have some of wine’s artistry but none of its danger. Even their exoticism has waned, from a Chinese rarity (“froth of the liquid jade”), for which 17th-century English traders were made to pay in solid silver, to a product that can be found dirt cheap on supermarket shelves.

There are even home-grown teas now. The Tregothnan estate in Cornwall has supplemented its ornamental rhododendrons and camellias with their relative camellia sinensis, the tea plant, while Dalreoch in the Scottish Highlands grows a white (that is, lightly oxidised) tea, which is smoked using wood from the surrounding birch plantations. Tellingly, this local version is priced as steeply as the imported rarity once was.

I enjoy a simple, solitary mug, but I also appreciate communal tea-drinking – the delicate tea warmed with water at 85°C (a little higher for sturdier black blends), the teapot and china, the pourer volunteering to be “mother”, as if this were a liquid that could nurture. But in reality, tea is not so gentle.

Those long-ago English traders disliked haemorrhaging silver, so they started exporting opium to China from India and paying with that. This was a fabulous success, unless you happened to be Chinese. In 1839, a commissioner attempted to clamp down on the illegal and harmful trade, and the result was the Opium Wars, which the Chinese lost. “Gunboat diplomacy” – a phrase that surely constitutes froth of a different kind – won England a great deal of silver, a 150-year lease on Hong Kong and an open tea market. China received a potful of humiliation that may eventually have helped spark the Communist Revolution. As many of us have recently realised, there is nothing like economic mortification to galvanise a nation to kick its leaders.

Later, the tea bush was planted in India, Ceylon and elsewhere, and the fragrant but bitter brew for the upper classes became a ubiquitous fuel. But not an entirely sweet one: just as the opium trade ensured our tea’s arrival in the pot, the slave trade sweetened it in the cup. Even today, conditions for tea workers in places such as Assam in north-east India are often appalling.

Scott Fitzgerald also had tea trouble. When invited round by Edith Wharton, he frothed the liquid jade so assiduously with booze beforehand and risqué conversation during (a story about an American tourist couple staying unawares in a Paris bordello) that he was nearly as badly humiliated as those 19th-century Chinese. Wharton, unshocked, merely wondered aloud what the couple had done in the bordello and afterwards pronounced the entire occasion “awful”.

Some would blame his alcoholic preliminaries, but I’m not so sure. Tea has started wars and ruined lives; we should be wary of its consolations. On that sober note, I reach for the corkscrew and allow the subject to drive me softly, beguilingly, to drink.

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 27 April 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Cool Britannia 20 Years On

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