Review: Welcome to Night Vale - live at the Shepherd's Bush O2 Empire

Welcome to Night Vale had me at ‘hello.’

Well, it really had me at the introduction to its first episode:

‘A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale.’

Night Vale is a podcast, written and produced by Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor. It’s the fictional news show of a fictional town out in the vast American desert: a town where any conspiracy theory can be true. Black helicopters circle above, earthquakes seem to show up on instruments but can’t be felt by the inhabitants, and agents from a vague-yet-menacing government agency attend press conferences but never say a word.

It’s all narrated in the deep, warm, sonorous voice of Cecil, the radio host who manages to make everything seem perfectly normal. Sentient glow clouds, women giving birth to detached hands instead of babies, houses which don’t exist (‘It seems like it exists, like it’s right there when you look at it...’), all are discussed so calmly it almost tricks you into missing the aberrations.

I love it. The laid-back, understated humour, the surrealism, the gently meandering plot lines. I have been an addict for over a year now, and I actively look forward to the 1^st and 15^th of every month, when a new instalment will be posted online.

So when they announced that they were planning a European tour, I had to go.

The rather aptly blood-red theatre...

When I arrived at the Shepherd’s Bush O2 Empire an hour before the show was due to begin, the queue for the unreserved seating was already wrapped around the back of the theatre. It was a chilly night, with threatening rain, and you know what? It was the nicest queue I’ve ever stood in.

The only thing I can compare it to was the energy in the air when I went to see John Green the last time he came to the UK. There was a buzz of anticipation, and underneath that, there was camaraderie. We chatted and smiled, complimented those who had come in costume, and couldn’t wait for the show to begin.

Purple and black was the theme. Some people had come in Night Vale shirts or hoodies, some in lab coats – two ladies I sat next to were dressed as librarians, blood on their mouths and gore-stained copies of Helen Hunt’s biography (one of the few biographies stocked by the Night Vale Public Library) in their hands. Everywhere I looked, the show’s purple-eyed logo blinked out at me, printed on clothing or drawn on people’s foreheads. Most of the audience were in their 20s and 30s, but there were a few families and older groups as well. We’re a mixed bunch, us Night Vale fans.

The show was The Librarian, an episode written for live performance – it’ll be recorded and sold early next year. I hadn’t been entirely sure of what to expect: how could one person and a few guests standing on a stage talking be that interesting?

Cecil Baldwin. Photo: Liezl Espitona.

I had reckoned without the formidable skills of actor Cecil Baldwin, who plays the narrator of the same name. At first dwarfed by the big stage, he drew us in with the skill of a born storyteller, and kept us spellbound for an hour. There were a few visitors, including both writers making appearances as a ghostly presence and an intern, but mostly it was just Cecil – and it worked perfectly.

Often when comedies do live shows, the temptation is to wheel everything out at expense of coherency. Every character needs an appearance or a name-check, which is fun but exhausting. Here, the writers struck the perfect balance: The Librarian managed to get in a few in-jokes (horoscopes, the community calendar, a mention of Steve Carlsberg), but was admirably restrained, focussing on the main issue of an escaped librarian.

From the sarcastic and funny opening spiel from ‘proverb girl’ Meg Bashwiner (‘We all like to use our phones. I use mine to call my mom. Please don’t do that during the show – call my mom, I mean. She would be very confused.’) to the weather by musician Mary Epworth and the brief moments of audience participation, The Librarian was a brilliant experience.

If you get the chance to see these guys live, do it without hesitation. If you don’t…well, you can still listen to the show. Go on. Go and listen to it. Just the pilot. You can do it here.

Agree? Disagree? Want to gush at another Night Vale fan? Leave a comment!

A eulogy: Utopia

So, they did it. They cancelled Utopia.

I found out in a Guardian article, and I have to express my sadness here. Don’t worry, I’ll keep my adulation as short as I can.

Let me start with the one good thing about this cancellation, which is the same ray of light we can take from Firefly’s demise: there has never been a bad episode of Utopia, and there never will be.

I’m rarely evangelical about television shows, but Utopia is in a different league. I was hooked from minute one, devouring the first three episodes like a drug addict shooting up, eyes wide and desperate for more. The acting was flawless. The shots were so beautiful that every scene could have been lifted from the panel of a graphic novel. The plot was daring, the script was inspired. I loved it utterly and completely.

The show follows a group of people brought together by their mutual love of a graphic novel, The Utopia Experiments. They know one another from a chatroom dedicated to the book, and agree to meet when one of their number claims to have obtained a sequel. The novel itself has a background of conspiracy theories and shady dealings: its author penned it obsessively in a mental hospital before committing suicide. When the group meet up, they discover that all the theories were right: there is something awful behind The Utopia Experiments, and now everyone is out to get them.

It’s violent, often shockingly so. Written by playwright Dennis Kelly, (author of, in an odd juxtaposition, Matilda The Musical), the script is unflinching and brutal, with perfect pacing and believable characters. It took risks (such as beginning the second series with a flashback episode which featured none of the characters we were expecting), and the acting was absolutely top-notch.

Oh, I can understand why they cancelled it. I can only imagine the amount of complaints that the violence must have received. But it was original and unexpected. It had three female protagonists, one over the age of 50 (if you don't think that's a big deal, name one TV show which can say the same) and I will continue to describe it to people as the best British TV show of the last ten years.

In short, Utopia made me glad to have paid my license fee. It was funny, political, thrilling, philosophical, and I will miss it. David Fincher is attempting to improve on perfection by creating an American version, and I wish him well.

Channel 4 has said: ‘It’s always painful to say goodbye to shows we love, but it’s a necessary part of being able to commission new drama, a raft of which are launching on the channel throughout 2015.’

Well, Channel 4, and all you Gods of television: I hope you come up with something half as good as Utopia, because we’ll be watching. With spoons held behind our backs.

Ketchup Clouds - Annabel Pitcher

Reading Ketchup Clouds was rather like watching an episode of Hollyoaks.

Take a girl writing to a criminal on death row, add a Love Triangle between two brothers, a murder that the girl alleges to have committed, and then chuck in a father who’s lost his job, a sister who’s being bullied, another sister who is deaf, a mother who seems on the verge of a nervous breakdown….it was soap opera, pure and simple, and the contrivances started getting on my nerves very early on.

Add to that the fact that the plot hinged on a Love Triangle, and I was having serious problems. Love Triangles are never interesting (the day I read one where I honestly can’t work out who the main character is going to pick will be an EXCELLENT DAY.), and they are almost impossible to write without the reader disliking one or more of the characters. Can’t pick one? Try NOT snogging both of them. Want both? Tough luck, sweetheart, you can’t have both – unless they’re happy to have a threesome.

When a book is losing me this fast, only one thing can pull it back: a great main character. I don’t even need to LIKE the protagonist – I just need to care enough about them to keep on reading. Maybe you could call it ‘respect’. I need a character to give me a reason to carry on with them. I need to respect them.

The main trouble I had with Ketchup Clouds was our narrator, Zoe. Partly, I blame my upbringing - I was raised on Jane Eyre, Lizzie Bennett, and that icon of standing up for yourself and not taking shit from anybody: Scarlett O’Hara. My blood flows pure red. Once you’ve read Scarlett, you never go back.

This means that when faced with difficult life choices, I ask myself one key question: What would Scarlett do? The same applies to female characters in books. If a protagonist is weak, or stupid, I can cope. It’s when they lack plain ol’ survival instinct that I cease caring. And Zoe really needed to take some life lessons from my guru.

Scarlett O'Hara is not impressed

You get hot and heavy at a party with a boy. The next day, you find out that he has sent a topless photo of you to his friends.

 What would Scarlett O’Hara do? Smile politely to his face, never speak to him again, and do her best to get her own back if the opportunity presented itself.
 What did Zoe do? Forgive him almost instantly, and give the hot and heavy thing another go.

I lost respect for her in that moment, and after that I was gone – and she did nothing to change my mind. She clearly didn’t respect herself, so why should we? I wouldn’t want to spend half an hour with this girl, let alone a whole narrative. I read books for enjoyment, and I stopped enjoying Zoe’s character….so I stopped enjoying the book.

My Sister Lives On The Mantelpiece was Annabel Pitcher’s first novel, and it is utterly brilliant. Ketchup Clouds sadly doesn’t measure up – I know that Pitcher can do better than this, and I think that’s why this book irritated me so much. Stop making it about selfish, stupid teenage girls, and give me more nine-year-old boys with real problems.

And make sure your protagonist can pass the Scarlett O’Hara test.

What do you think?

The Secret Garden (1993)

Cousin lovin’, had me a blast. 

Cousin lovin’, happened so fast.

I met a boy, crippled and mean,

I met a girl, thanks she’s a queen.

Medlock’s motivation is always unclear.

But oh oh those creepy garden witchcraft nights!

Oblivion - Tom Cruise

Three things I have learned from Oblivion:

1. Nuclear weapons are always the answer.

2. Suicide bombing is definitely the right thing.

3. A woman won't really mind if you die, as long as the next one looks like you.