The Christmas pantomime at the Old Vic was superb a couple of years ago, so I went to the latest production yesterday (written by Stephen Fry) with high hopes. I was a bit worried by the bad review it got in the Evening Standard though: "Stephen Fry and wit are supposed to be long-term companions, but it now looks and sounds as if they are undergoing a trial separation, with Fry the bereft party."
But the paper was right. It wasn't very good. The audience sat stupefied, not even bothering to hiss when the evil sisters came on stage. As I looked around the beautiful theatre, I tried to imagine how it felt to be in the audience when Laurence Olivier, Vivien Leigh and John Gielgud were performing there in the '30s and '40s.
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