Celebs in the City

The latest LA craze sweeps London

Forget Kabbalah, Tibetan Buddhism, Angel Therapy, Scientology, Goddess Worship and Sweating Your Prayers (don’t ask). Cast aside thoughts of the Atkins, Grapefruit, Zone or Cabbage Soup diets (yum). Don’t even contemplate buying a miniature dog, monkey or Mongolian Gerbil as a pet (sit!), and whatever you do throw out all thoughts of customising your existing wardrobe to accommodate the latest transatlantic trend for velour trimmings (itchy)…

The latest Hollywood craze it seems is no longer a diet, religion, lifestyle or fashion accessory. The key to personal fulfilment lies a little closer to home and is in fact a plain and simple stint on little old London’s very own West End stage. Awwww. Bless.

So as tumbleweeds blow across the barren landscape of US theatre (‘Spamalot’ anyone?), over here in London the boards of theatres across the capital are creaking under the weight of all the perfectly toned Hollywood toes treading tentatively across them.

At the time of writing the demur Ruby Wax is attempting to cast a spell over audiences in ‘Witches’ at the Wyndhams Theatre. Sharon Osbourne (fresh from filming those, oh-so-convincing, bottom-patting, Asda adverts) and daughter Aimee, are preparing to expose themselves in the ‘Vagina Monologues’. Meanwhile, somewhere across town the legendary Patrick Stewart has transported himself into David Mamet’s ‘A Life in the Theatre’ opposite Dawson’s Creek’s Joshua Jackson. Kim Cattrall swaps lust for laughs in the city as she headlines in ‘Whose Life Is It Anyway?’ at the Comedy Theatre, while Kevin Spacey prepares to step into the hallowed shoes of Carey Grant in ‘The Philadelphia Story’. Finally there’s David Schwimmer who’s gearing up to take on ‘Some Girls’ at the Gielgud (BTW - he plays an emotionally crippled womaniser who, before he gets engaged, decides to revisit four ex-girlfriends. Hmmm. I shall call him ‘Ross’).

Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s great that London’s reputation as a cutting-edge centre of theatrical excellence is finally being acknowledged and that this influential bunch of over-achievers are happy to swap the air-conditioned, vacuum-packed, sugar-free security of LA screen life for the potential pitfalls and gloriously gritty realism of London’s West End. And ticket sales will, no doubt, soar as star-struck hoards flock to witness this glamorous gang strut their stuff. I just wonder where it will all end…

Are we set to witness Ken Barlow in a romantic clinch with Gwyneth Paltrow over a couple of bottles of stout and one of Betty’s hot pots at the bar of the Rovers Return? Will William Shatner (seeking a break from his burgeoning recording career) assume the position of Richard Whiteley’s next guest in Dictionary Corner on tea-time favourite ‘Countdown’? The idea of Robin Williams and the ‘News at Ten’ isn’t even worth contemplating…

William Goldman once remarked that in Hollywood “Nobody knows anything”. These guys, however, clearly do know something, and that something seems to be that London really is the place to be when it comes to theatre. At last they’ve twigged.

All I know is that the minute I see Will Smith working in the launderette on Albert Square, I’m moving to Hollywood.

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