Friday Arts Diary

Our cultural picks for the week ahead.

Exhibition

Ellen Gallagher@AxME, Tate Modern, opens 1 May

Ellen Gallagher is one of America’s most renowned contemporary artists. Tate Modern presents the first major solo exhibition of her work in the UK. This overview provides a unique opportunity to explore her career, as well as her employment of a wide variety of media- including painting, drawing, relief, collage, print, sculpture, film and animation.

Concert

Vampire Weekend, Troxy, 2 May

Williamsburg four piece Vampire Weekend return to play a short run of UK dates, including a stop at grandiose art-deco Troxy in east London. Their infectious blend of bouncy Afrobeat and indie-pop has only grown in popularity since their formation in 2006. The band will also be headlining gigs in Portsmouth and Bournemouth in June, in advanced of their support slot for Mumford and Sons at the Olympic Park.

Theatre

A Dolls House, Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester, 1 May- 1 June 

A new adaptation of Henrik Ibsen’s ground-breaking classic of female liberation and empowerment comes to the Royal Exchange this week. Star Cush Jumbo is reunited with director Greg Hersov following a hugely successful production of As You Like It in 2011.

TV

Vicious, ITV, premieres 29 April

This new sitcom, originally titled Vicious Old Queens, premieres on ITV on Monday. Theatrical heavyweights Ian McKellen and Derek Jacobi star as an ageing couple sharing a Covent Garden flat whose world is turned upside down by the arrival of their dashing new neighbour Ash, played by Misfits star Iwan Rheon.

Film

Stanley Kubrick’s "A Killer’s Kiss", Prince Charles Cinema, 1 May

As part of their Kubrick retrospective the Prince Charles Cinema is screening A Killer’s Kiss, Kubrick’s second feature film. Made on a budget of £40,000 which Kubrick borrowed from his uncle, the film is regarded as a telling indicator of the era-defining invention and creativity that was to come. This New York noir tells the story of a young boxer and nightclub dancer who fall in love but become caught in a web of murder and revenge.

Festival

Stratford-upon-Avon Literary festival, Straford-Upon-Avon, continues until 5 May

A mix of debate, ideas, author events and workshops, The Stratford upon Avon Literary Festival has become of the most significant literary festivals in the UK. Highlights from the programme this week include an evening with Michael Palin on 2 May and "Michael Morpurgo day" on 5 May.

Ellen Gallagher's first major solo exhibition at the Tate Modern (Photo: Getty Images)
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Netflix's Ozark is overstuffed – not to mention tonally weird

Could the channel use a hit? Every time my subscription leaves my bank account, I think again that it could.

The main reason why Ozark, the new Netflix series, feels so underpowered has to do with its star, Jason Bateman (who also directs): a good actor who badly wants for charisma, he simply can’t carry it alone. Watching the first few episodes, I kept thinking of Jon Hamm in Mad Men and (a better example here) Bryan Cranston in Breaking Bad, both of whom played, as does Bateman, characters around which the plots of their respective series turned. When they were on screen, which was often, it was all but impossible to tear your eyes from them; when they were off it, you felt like you were only biding your time until they returned. But when Bateman disappears from view, you hardly notice. In fact, it feels like a plus: at least now you might get to see a bit more of the deft and adorable Laura Linney.

In Ozark, Bateman is Marty, an outwardly square guy whose big secret is that he is a money launderer for the second biggest drugs cartel in Mexico. When the series opens, he and his wife Wendy (Linney) and their two children are living in Chicago, where he nominally works as a financial advisor.

By the end of the first episode, however, they’re on their way to the Lake of the Ozarks in rural Missouri. Marty’s partner, Bruce, has been on the fiddle, and the cartel, having summarily executed him, now wants Marty both to pay back the cash, and to establish a few new businesses in which future income may be cleaned far from the prying eyes of the law enforcement agencies. If this sounds derivative, it is. We’re in the realm of Breaking Bad, only where that show gave us out-of-control Bunsen burners and flesh-eating chemicals, this one is more preoccupied with percentages and margins.

Where’s the friction? Well, not only is the FBI on Marty’s tail, his wife has been cheating on him, with the result that their marriage is now just another of his business arrangements. The locals (think Trump supporters with beards as big as pine trees) have proved thus far to be on the unfriendly side, and having paid off their debts, the only house Marty can afford has a cliché – sorry, crotchety old guy – living in the basement. On paper, admittedly, this all sounds moderately promising. But hilarity does not ensue. As dull as the Lake of the Ozarks when the tourist season is over, not even Linney can make Bill Dubuque’s dialogue come alive. Her character should be traumatised: before they left Chicago, the cartel, for reasons I do not completely understand, pushed her podgy lover – splat! – off his balcony. Instead, she’s fussing about the crotchety old guy’s sexism.

Ozark is overstuffed and tonally weird, so I won’t be binge-watching this one. This completes rather a bad run for me and Netflix; after the lame new series of House of Cards and the egregious Gypsy, this is the third of its shows on the trot to bore me rigid. Could the channel use a hit? Every time my subscription leaves my bank account, I think again that it could.

And now to The Sweet Makers: A Tudor Treat (19 July, 8pm), in which we hear the sound of the “living history” barrel being scraped so loudly, those attending the meeting at which it was commissioned must surely have worn ear defenders. Basically, this is a series in which four confectioners “go back in time” to discover how their forebears used sugar (first, the Tudors; next week, the Georgians).

What it means in practice is lots of Generation Game-style faffing with candied roses and coriander comfits by people in long skirts and silly hats – a hey-nonny-nonny fiesta of pointlessness that is itself a sugar coating for those nasty things called facts (ie a bit of tokenism about slavery and our ancestors’ trouble with their teeth).

Resident expert, food historian Dr Annie Gray, strained to give the proceedings urgency, sternly reminding the confectioners that the sugar house they’d spent hours building did not yet have a roof. But who cared if it didn’t? Destined to be eaten by fake Tudor guests at a fake Tudor banquet, it wasn’t as if anyone was going to lose their head for it – not even, alas, at Broadcasting House. 

Rachel Cooke trained as a reporter on The Sunday Times. She is now a writer at The Observer. In the 2006 British Press Awards, she was named Interviewer of the Year.

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

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