It’s always difficult to take actors' union Equity seriously, because their president is Harry Landis, better known as Felix, the genial Jewish barber from EastEnders. You keep expecting press statements to be interrupted by Grant Mitchell bursting in and accusing him of being a pervert.
This may be the reason why the demand for an increased minimum wage for West End actors has been ignored – the theatre companies were probably too busy asking what happened to his burgeoning romance with Blossom Jackson to listen to Felix’s demands, and now a West End actors’ strike is on its way.
Equity want a 44% hike in their minimum wage, which does sound a bit above the going rate at a time when many theatres are tightening their belts. But the actors are currently on £381 a week, which will keep you going for about 20 minutes in London, if you’re really good with money (and if there are any actors in London who are good with money, I’ve yet to meet them).
It’s the age-old problem of industries where the children of the rich are prepared to work for free. Practically all the work in publishing and journalism, for example, is now done by squads of indistinguishable Tarquins and Jemimas, doing 6-month unpaid internships and living on their parents’ money. Equity are just trying to stop their members being undercut by egregious floppy-fringed Etonians with flats in Pimlico.
But the problem is that the theatre companies are as skint as their actors – and one of their biggest expenses is paying large casts for big productions. The only way to get a new show time to bed down in the West End is to publicise it with a six-month dose of reality TV: fine for big names like 'The Sound of Music' and 'Grease', but I’m not sure ITV‘s Saturday night audience is ready for 'Whom the Gods Would Destroy, They First Make Mad: the Search for a New Medea'.
So the choice seems to be between giving in to Equity’s demands, which means a West End entirely populated with stage remakes of American movies, or replacing all our actors with chinless wonders from the Home Counties. Personally, I think I’m just going to start going to the cinema more.
Carry On London
Fifteen years after the travesty of 'Carry On Columbus', the creaky slapstick series is being revived yet again for Carry On London. The film is to be set in the capital and they’re getting over the death of almost the entire original Carry On crew by hiring a new generation of… er… stars, including Shane Ritchie and Swedish glamour model Victoria Silvstedt. Oooh, matron, ding-dong, etc, etc.
Death Sentence for Death Metallers' Home
It’s been a long time coming, but the death sentence has finally been officially sounded for The Astoria. Somebody at London Transport has decided that Tottenham Court Road station is just too horrible (fair enough), and will have to be extended into the space currently occupied by the legendary rock venue (not fair at all. Why couldn’t they have used that horrible chippie on the corner instead?). There are plenty of new venues springing up in London, so the bands will be alright, but we’re worried for the teenage metallers from the Home Counties, who’ve traditionally gathered on the Astoria’s steps, and who are quite unhappy enough already.
Black Comedy
The highly anticipated West End show 'God of Carnage', starring Ralph Fiennes, Tamsin Greig and Ken Stott, had a true first night nightmare, as the assembled press were treated to a powercut. Having re-rigged the lighting and switched to an emergency generator, they managed to continue in semi-darkness – and got some excellent reviews for their trouble.
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