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ROMEO AND JULIET AT THE NATIONAL THEATRE

30/10/2014

OK, so Baz Luhrmann got here first with his in yer face poptastic screen adaptation of Shakespeare's classic of doomed teenage love, but this 60-minute whizz bang production by the National's Primary Theatre aimed at 8-12 year olds has a freshness and vitality of its own.

Re-versioned by Ben Power, there's an audience clapalong to Pharrell Williams "Happy" and a nod to Adele, but the Bard's poetry is properly respected here - it's just that there's much less of it than old Shakey originally intended. And in case the kids aren't getting the hang of what's going on, key parts of the story are re-told in a Hip Hop-stylee, making the story feel both modern - and, crucially, understood.

Power's ruthless filleting of the script gets us right to heart of the affair. Romeo falls in love with Juliet who has already been promised to another bloke - the arranged marriage providing a neat excuse for a Bollywood ball.

The real problem with their relationship, of course, is that Romeo and Juliet are from Verona's warring families - the Montagues and Capulets - setting the scene for a deadly romantic conflict.

I took my two girls - aged 7 and 10 - and they were thoroughly caught up in the action - especially the younger one who took the opportunity (offered to the entire audience) to come and strut their stuff on the dancefloor. At times you have to remind yourself "this is Shakespeare" - but only in a good way.

The acting was mostly terrific - Tendayi Jembere a convincingly lovesick Romeo, Vanessa Babirye a vicious Tybalt - and you can see how many of the themes (love, marriage, violence, gangs) could inform the classroom discussions and workshops that accompany the touring schools' production.

My only reservation is that - as I understand it - it's only pupils in London who are only going to benefit. The simple set - a bit of scaffolding creating a square arena - could surely be recreated in any school hall. Personally I'd put a dynamic reworking of a classic like this on the National Curriculum and make sure every kid in the country had the chance to see it. Isn't that what being a "National" theatre is all about.

And it's not just for children either. Given that Shakespeare is - for whatever reason - so off-putting for many adults, I reckon there are plenty of grown ups who could benefit from watching it too. It's on at the National until the 14th November, and whatever your age I'd unreservedly recommend it.

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UP FOR THE CUP? A CAPITAL IDEA

29/10/2014

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No football team has a divine right to win. Believe me, as a West Bromwich Albion fan, I know that more than anyone. Like any supporter, I just want my team to try their hardest to succeed in every match they play, and each tournament they enter.

So what am I to make of the decision by Baggies coach Alan Irvine to make ten - yes ten - changes to the starting line-up for last night's Capital Cup 4th round tie against Bournemouth? Irvine, like his predecessors, had insisted that he would take the knockouts seriously. And just like them, his starting XI told a different story.

Sure, there was plenty of expensive flesh on display. £10 million record signing Brown Ideye lined up alongside £6 million man Victor Anichebe, and there were rare outings for some of the other high profile summer signings, notably Jason Davidson and Sebastian Blanco. Liam O'Neill, a promising youngster knocking on the door of the first team got a game.

Bournemouth rang the changes too - just like the Baggies, there were 10 fresh starters compared to the side which thrashed Birmingham City 8-0.

I seem to remember we played in a competition like this years ago, when teams were full of the not quite fit, the not quite good enough, and the promising kids. It was called the Central League. In effect, their reserves beat our reserves.

This, in the last 16 of a competition that leads to a Wembley final and European qualification.

We all know the sub-text here don't we? Never mind the glory of a never to be forgotten day out. The bean counters will tell you that this amounts to nothing compared to the need - in Albion's case - to stay in the all consuming, money mad Premier League; or the desire - in Bournemouth's case - to get there.

I'm not stupid. I understand that once you've started mainlining TV income, only more will do. Enough is never enough. And fans who complain today about the loss of a League Cup campaign, will be calling for the manager's head tomorrow if the club is embroiled in a relegation struggle.

It's a tough balancing act - but surely the current situation is unsustainable. Sponsors and fans (2,000 Baggies supporters made the long trip to the South Coast last night) are simply being taken for mugs.

In the past, I've clung to the idea that my club has a cup fighting tradition (5 FA Cup wins, numerous semi finals). Sadly, while this is a tradition that means plenty to the fans, it amounts to a big fat zero to the people who run the club.

Seriously, if they can't be bothered, why should I? In future, I'm not sure I will.

Incidentally, I'm not knocking any of the 11 players who started last night. They'll have done their best - and I congratulate Bournemouth on their victory.

Defeat is part and parcel of football - what hurts is losing when you feel you haven't done everything you can to win.

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POPPY DAY

28/10/2014

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Bloodswept Lands and Seas of Red - Paul Cummins installation of ceramic poppies, commemorating of the 88,246 British military who died in World War One. It's free to view, in the moat at the Tower of London.

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THE ZONE OF INTEREST

27/10/2014

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Want a book to dip into just before you fall asleep at night? Then give a wide swerve to this latest Martin Amis epic. It's definitely not the stuff of sweet dreams. I found myself counting corpses rather than sheep at night, unable to shake off his appalling vision of a Nazi concentration camp where the Final Solution is being played out.

So why read it then? Well, my old English teacher at school told me the hardest trick in literature would be to create the character of a German prison guard during WW2 and evoke sympathy for him. Yet that's precisely what Amis has done with character of Angelus Thomsen, a well-connected intellectual dosser, who in other eras would have been the middle manager in a multinational. Instead, at this time of peculiar insanity, he goes along like so many of his peers with the hideous programme of human extermination, knowing that to oppose it would culminate in certain and probably brutal death.

Amis is no apologist for Thomsen. Using a series of narrators he unpicks the stitching which holds together this Nazi House of Horror. There's Paul Doll, the comical, impotent wife-beater who as a senior officer has the job of overseeing the new arrrivals; and Szmul, the Jewish "Sonder" chosen to pick over and fillet the belongings of those who are gassed. His self-loathing is matched only by his desire to survive.

For all its death and destruction, this is a curiously romantic novel - though perhaps not in a way that Mills and Boon would recognise - and not without humour either. Amis plays on our Anglo amusement with the harshness of the German language by throwing in a welter of near unpronounceable compounds; and there's a sadistic female prison guard whose porn fantasy persona is undercut by her evident lunacy.

Make no mistake - at times The Zone Of Interest is almost overwhelmingly gruelling; but the fear and terror are offset by a sharp satirical edge. We laugh in recognition and sympathy as men commissioned to slaughter their fellow human beings come up against the conflicting demands of Nazi bureaucracy - prisoners need precious food and warmth if they are to be kept working, but if you kill them to save money, you quickly need another supply of workers who have to be fed and kept warm. The madness - literal and metaphorical - of the Final Solution is exposed.

And at the edges of this crazy world, there are wives, children, servants - some more complicit than others - who continue with their "ordinary" lives.

Amis tried something similar in 2003 with Time's Arrow - this is a scab he just can't stop picking - but The Zone Of Interest is broader in its scope and sympathies. It's a tough, but essential read. Just don't leave it at your bedside.

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IS MODERN FOOTBALL REALLY TOO EXPENSIVE?

25/10/2014

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Is modern football really too expensive? It's a question I recently asked on my #thecourtofsport series on youtube following a recent BBC Price Of Football survey which revealed that the cheapest average ticket in the Premier League had raced ahead at twice the rate of inflation over the last four years.

That research brought forth the usual howls of outrage to the effect that traditional fans have been priced out of the game. It's a sentiment that instinctively I shared - there are few of us who go to matches who haven't blanched at the price of a seat in the away enclosure at Stamford Bridge or Old Trafford.

But I was keen to strip away the reflex anger and look at the stats. After all, and at the risk of coming over as some kind of amateur Milton Friedman, you can't really judge whether something is too expensive on the basis of what people say - only by what they do.

If you take that view - the view that something is only worth what people are willing to pay for it - it's impossible to escape the conclusion that despite all the moans and groans about the cost, we are more willing to splash out top flight football than at almost any stage in history.

The basis of my stats by the way is the wonderful European Football Statistics website. This shows that the average Premier League attendance last season was 36,670. The last time English football enjoyed that kind of boom was in the post-war era when the working classes - deliriously demobbed - headed to a match at every opportunity.

Even then, last season's average top flight gate was only exceeded in 1949 and 1950.

A far better comparitor is 1967 - the year after Bobby Moore had lifted aloft the Jules Rimet Trophy. England were World Champions, Best and Charlton were in their pomp, and clubs with their gigantic terraces took a "one more on top" attitude to crowd safety. Essentially, if you wanted to see a match you could just rock up at 5 to 3 and expect to get in.

But even in '67, the average top flight gate was 30,770 - almost 6,000 fewer than in last season's Premier League.

All this, in an era when there's unprecedented access to live footy on free to air terrestrial television, which boasts regular Champions League coverage and FA Cup ties, as well as highlights on Match of the Day.

Now let's be honest about this. It's hard to imagine someone working for the minimum wage and with a family to keep regularly going to the match - especially at clubs like Arsenal, where season tickets start at around £1,000. Some poorer sections of the working class HAVE undoubtedly been priced out, but with an average gate of 36,000 not every Premier League can be chomping on a Prawn Sandwich.

And while it's true our gates lag behind those in Germany, to be fair they have never matched the levels now enjoyed in the Bundesliga (average 43,699).

We should also remember that in 70's and 80's especially, gates were boosted by much larger away followings than is common now - as a fan I regret the latter-day squeeze on visiting supporter as it robs stadiums of atmosphere. But on the flip side, clubs are now attracting significantly more "home" supporters, including women, which can only be regarded as a sign of progress.

Modern top flight football in England may be many things - greedy, arrogant, out of touch. Perhaps. But too expensive? The numbers just don't add up.

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FAREWELL TO SALEEM'S - AND MAYBE THE BALTI BELT TOO

24/10/2014

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Growing up in Birmingham, the Balti Belt around Sparkbrook was important for two reasons. At a time when the pubs routinely shut at 10.30 (yes, I know!) it was one of the few places you could extend the night into the wee small hours. And it was also the place where as a city we learned to eat out and push our culinary horizons beyond the Wimpy Bar and Berni Inn. (Some of us think it's no coincidence that Brum is now the only regional UK city with four Michelin stars - the Balti boom of the 80's promoted an vibrant eating out culture along with sense of gastronomic adventure).

Most of this spicy activity was located around three grimy inner city streets - the busy A34 Stratford Road and behind it Stoney Lane and Ladypool Road.

The area was a genuine melting pot - a meld of working class Brummies, Asians of course, Irish immigrants, a large African Caribbean community, and out of towners packing the narrow streets in their 4x4's coming to see what all the fuss was about.

Back then, Sparkbrook was still bedsitterland too - a cheaper, downmarket alternative to still-bohemian Moseley which was just a short walk up Church Road. In the balti houses, aspiring rock stars rubbed shoulders with bankers from Solihull - all the while living (if only for the duration of a curry) in an authetic cross cultural bubble.

Rows about the origin and authenticity of the balti were neither here nor there - this was our folk food, and we loved it, in all its sloppy, coriander-garnished glory. As bagels were to New York, so the balti was to Brum.

That was then - this is now. Tonight I went to pay my respects to a veteran of the scene which is finally hanging up its naan bread after 43 years. On November 2, Saleems on Ladypool Road will be shutting its doors for the final time, leaving barely half a dozen survivors from the original balti belt.

The owner - the thoroughly amiable Waheed Saleem - tells me the business just isn't there any more. Ladypool Road has become a centre of the Asian wedding trade, and though the clothes shops attract visitors from far and wide, their clientele are more likely to shop at the proliferating kebab shops and takeaway joints. There's more competition from chains too - Ladypool Road has a Dixy Chicken and a Fargo.

My own observation is that Sparkbrook has become markedly less cosmopolitan since the boom years. The Irish and the the Jamaicans haven't entirely disappeared but they have become "lesser spotted", as the Pakistani Muslim community has grown in their stead. Students now seem thinner on the ground too. There's just one pub clinging on for dear life, where once there were four.

Perhaps the simple truth is that most of us probably just don't need to go there anymore. One of my local high streets, Stirchley, has about a dozen balti houses or "Indian" restaurants in the budget or mid-price range, copying or expanding on the Sparkbrook formula. The Black Country has its own equivalent of the old Balti Triangle in the town of Lye.

The curry has traded up too - we got to understand the basics in the Balti Belt, now we can taste the really good stuff at Lasan, Asha's or Saffron in Oldbury.

For what it's worth, the survivors in Sparkbrook - including Imran's, Dawat, Al Fraish and Shabab - all have plenty to recommend them. They wouldn't have survived this long if they didn't. But the Balti Belt as we knew it has pretty much gone, having spawned numerous imitators across the West Midlands and beyond - becoming, ultimately, a victim of its own success.