Showing posts with label MAMPAM. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MAMPAM. Show all posts

Monday, 25 February 2013

The 2013 MAMPAM Awards Ceremony

The BAFTAs, the Independent Spirit Awards, the Razzies, the Golden Globes. It’s all really part of a big build up to the main event, The Big One, the jewel in the crown. The one everyone’s waiting for.

That’s right; it’s the 2013 MAMPAM Awards Ceremony. Or as they’re more simply known to those in the biz; The MAMPAMs. The MAMPAM industry’s leading lights Jon Rogers, Ben Simmons, Alex Green and yours truly will be lining up for an evening of unapologetic glitz and glamour, haute-cuisine, fashionistic faux-pas and incestuous, self-congratulatory slaps upon the back all round.

But of course there it’s not just about the partying; there is the serious business of the awards themselves to be doled out. With 7 MAMPAM awards up for grabs competition will be fierce. But the Academy has yet to vote, and the answers won’t be announced until this evening! Join us for the live blog updates as they happen right here on the MAMPAM blog.

How to Vote for the MAMPAMs
To post your awards for the MAMPAM Awards, visit the online survey below and fill in your results as required - http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/YFW9F3J

There are 7 MAMPAMs up for grabs, listed below.
- Best Host
- Worst Film
- Best Food
- Best Blog Post
- Best Musical Instrument
- Best Supporting MAMPAM
- Best MAMPAM

So join us later to toast the winners and commiserate the losers; that’s showbusiness, folks!


Friday, 1 February 2013

Five Kinds Of Silence - The MAMPAM Theatre Review

Five Kinds Of Silence – Shelagh Stephenson, dir. Chris Loveless, White Bear Theatre, Kennington

Spoilers included!

In The Memory Of Water, Shelagh Stephenson’s 1997 radio play which was subsequently adapted for a film starring Julie Walters and Tom Wilkinson, three daughters are haunted by visions of their deceased mother. It turns out that the mother visits herself unto her daughters out of benevolence; to ensure that all is well with each of them before she departs them forever and is laid to rest.

It might well be attestable that Stephenson sought to create such benevolent hauntings as a remedy to the wicked post-mortem shadow that Billy casts over his wife Mary and two daughters, Janet and Susan, in her previous work, Five Kinds Of Silence, her Writer Guild Award-winning play concerning the perpetuating cycle of physical and sexual abuse that occurs within one family.

The White Bear Theatre in Kennington has is staging a production of Five Kinds Of Silence from January 29 to February 17, and its sparsely-furnished theatre seems perfectly suited to the bleak outlook of the subject matter. The staging area is tiny, and forty or seats are squeezed in at the edge of the playing area, meaning that a full house (and last night’s production was full) invites a creepy intimacy to proceedings.

The play opens with Billy, the brutal patriarch, relating a dream in which he is a dog with glorious hypotyposis: he talks of “jewels and metal and wood and meat” and seems particularly obsessed with the smell of things: blood, metal, fear, armpits. The dream, of which the cause is later revealed, is interrupted by his being shot dead by his daughters. When later questioned by police, lawyers and psychiatrists, the family, at first collectively and subsequently individually, projects its worldview by means of a shattered chronology; fragments of the past and present intermingle with flashbacks of varying degrees of reliability, which lends a Rashomon-style sensibility to the drama, where we cannot be entirely sure of the truths being emitted. Billy himself appears frequently, punctuating proceedings with his own recollections of his own broken childhood.

Familial abuse is cyclical, perpetuating and self-destructive, and essentially is focused around the key theme of the play, control. The play not only oddly suspends judgment of Billy, a tattoo-covered, bovver-booted obsessive-compulsive (the order in which he likes the groceries to be stored in the kitchen is humorously related by Mary) skinhead, but invites sympathy for him; he has suffered abuse at the hands of his own mother, an experience which shapes describes his own motivations and desires for control.

Control is ubiquitous; Billy tortures animals such as cats and goldfish because he can; he buys his wife and daughters red coats, and calls them his “army of redcoats” (an invocation of either Communism or Butlins, I couldn’t be sure which); he buys his daughters wedding rings to stave off the attentions of other men; and he describes his being drafted into the army, where everything is ship-shape and just-so, as “paradise”, the same word that Susan and Janet attribute to the jail cell when they are held after their father‘s murder. Janet and Susan, freed from their psychiatric ward for a day trip, write to their mother that they are free to buy Shredded Wheat and cookies for the first time. Control is ubiquitous; it leaks beyond the corners of the stage. Billy’s mother beat and abused him to exert her own form of control; did she also suffer at the wheel of abuse? And though the play ends with potential chink of light for the women, who is to say how their experience controls the relationships they are to have with their own children?

The performances throughout are outstanding. Anthony Hoskins provides solid support as the straight-man ensemble (Policeman / Lawyer / Psychiatrist), and provides the leading players enough room to shine. Violet Ryder plays Janet with schizophrenic energy, in turns hysterical and uncertain, beautiful and broken, unsure of herself and her place in this strange world she finds herself. Tessa Wood alone as Mary injects some lightness of touch into proceedings; the scenes where her timorous wife happily tells us that Billy would have been pleased that his shirt looks so neat as he lies on the ground filled with bullets, and proudly lists the groceries in the kitchen, are greatly needed to lift the air of unending doom. She movingly hints at a happier past, filled with innocence, dancing, and glasses of port & lemon, yet now is a mere husk of a woman, bereft of her dreams and unable to recognise the destructive power of her love for Billy.

Olivia Dennis is outstanding as Susan; bolshy, ashamed and gloriously twitchy, constantly gathering her cardigan around her like an aegis and stubbornly batting away any attempts at emotional extraction attempted by her inquisitors, including herself.

Also outstanding is Zach Lee as Billy; his is a dervish of a performance. At points he is squirming and crawling around the floor like Gollum, literally spitting out his recollections and daydreams with visceral intensity, and at others he lurks in the shadows of the stage, steering the thoughts and deeds of the women during their inquisition even after death like an aphotic, undead sentinel, making what use he can from the scant staging.

White Bear has a little gem on its hands here, and deserves to see many more full houses on its way through February. It only loses half a MAMPAM star as there was no interval in the 90-minute play, despite one being advertised online, causing much crossing of legs come the apex of the play, and probably not merely because of the graphic intimations of sexual abuse.

Verdict: 4.5 /5 MAMPAMs.

The MAMPAM info: Performance Dates: 29th January - 17th February 2013
Tuesday – Saturday at 7.30pm, Sundays at 6.00pm
Tickets: £12 (£10 Conc.)
Telephone sales: 0844 8700 887 (TicketSource: booking fee payable).

www.whitebeartheatre.co.uk


Thursday, 11 October 2012

Wine, Monster Munch and Tabasco "Can Cure Common Cold", Says Leading Radiographer

A leading radiographer has stunned the medical world by claiming that recent research undertaken by his team in Bromley, south London, indicates that the curious combination of Monster Munch, red wine and Tabasco sauce has had remarkable restorative effects upon sufferers of the common cold.

"All signs point to the fact that this curious and highly specific combination of foodstuffs have a very powerful effect of nullifying the symptoms, and could even cure, the common cold,' says J. Jon Jonathan 'Rogers' Rogers, Chief Radiographer of NHS Bromley South.

Tuesday, 9 October 2012

MAMPAM Appears Out Of Nowhere!

Oh, steady the mountains, look over your boulders, here come the ancients; it's MAMPAM!!!!
Who'd a thunk it? After a hiatus of literally weeks, where nobody could find it, MAMPAM surprises us all by launching itself from the NHS servers and out into the ether, grabbing us all by the perpendiculars and screaming in our faces: 'Would you like some Spontaneous Combustion Sauce with that, Vicar?'
 
Christ, I'm excited. I mean, really really excited. Do you want to know why? I bet you can't guess. This man wants to know the reason why. He really really wants to know the reason why.
 
 
 
I'll tell you the reason why - because MAMPAM is back, hoo yah!
 
I got this email from Jon, our man in Maidstone, recently:
 
"I've drunk quite a lot of wine recently. On occasion I've eaten some pizza. I even looked at a bag of Monster Munch. Flamin' Hot flavour if memory serves. But at no point were all three combined. This hasn't sat right with me.
But what's to be done?' I hear you ask. Well MAMPAM, that's what."
 
I hear you Jon. That's why this MAMPAM is going to be an October Special! Oh yes! Look to the stars and grapple with your senses; rinse your pies down the plughole and gawp no longer at the traction belts of fame, for this is the time when we tale a bunsen burner to the leaky gas pipe of life, and say 'Eggs to you, slaphapplers!'
Úm Úpdate
Phew! Glad I got that off my chest! Right, now t more pressing matters. The Úm Louts play Davies International Tonight. We have a strapped up squad but we believe that we can make it another 3 points and another unbeaten game. We are up to 3rd today, where will we be come the end of the game today?
See you at MAMPAM!

Wednesday, 15 August 2012

MAMPAM - Get Ahead Of The Games, Prepare Now!

The MAMnium seems to have caught people's imaginations, with Alex, Ben and Daniel adding a further 3 events to the parlour-based heptathlon of the decathlon of the velodrome. Read on to make sure that you are fully prepared for what is surely going to be a monster MAMPAM.

Thursday, 9 August 2012

The MAMnium

MAMPAM hasn't really figured during the London 2012 MAMPAM Olympics* so far. Well, we would not want to steal Lord Coe's thunder, would we? Everybody knows that MAMPAM is the world's premier gathering of athletes, where the sipping of red wine (never glug a lovely wine, I always say), freestyle wrestling contests and marathon Monster Munch eating contests are at the forefront of the games.

Thursday, 26 July 2012

Are Ümlauts Acceptable in a MÄMPÄM?

I'll be honest, I'm dead against it. for one thing it could make searching for MAMPAM a lot more difficult on Google.

But then, they do look like two tiny little Mr Magoo eyes, so I don't know who'll win.

Any thoughts?

Tuesday, 24 July 2012

The Üm Louts

MAMPAM has traditionally been a bastion and birthplace of many new traditions. Traditionally these traditions have erred on the side of more traditional traditions, such as the eating of pizza, the monstering of munch, and the regardement of Christ-bitingly crappy films.

Wednesday, 13 June 2012

STAGPAM

UPDATE: just found this draft post, written before STAGPAM and the Long Day's Journey Into Cardiff. It doesn't represent the best of the MAMPAM posts. No wonder I didn't post it before. But here it is for the sake of completion. As Martin the Dullard from Extras, or perhaps Hannibal Lecter in the role of Heideggerian analyst, would say: Enjoy!

STAGPAM


So it begins, the final descent into the oblivion of Caerdydd for one showdown before I leave single life and embark upon the road of marital bliss.

But MAMPAM isn't afraid, and comes along for the ride, lurking deep within each of us, the

MAMPAM: Strength Beyond Strength

I've been hearing some trash being talked and some bull being spouted about how MAMPAM fell off. 'Bout how MAMPAM be filled wit' milk-drinkers, sops and pantywaists. Well dang them! Dang them all! Listen up, let me tell you how it's going to go down.

Thursday, 5 April 2012

We No Longer Control MAMPAM. MAMPAM controls us.

It's taken a week, but by jove MAMPAM wasn't going to let us get away with not reporting on its latest awakening into the world of the living.

Regular readers will know about A Beautiful MAMPAM, which featured minimal bullying and ended with us watching interpretations of Chopin on Youtube. What a bloody disgrace, you might have thought, and quite right too. Well, MAMPAM clearly thought so, and hit back with lashings of Spontaneous Combustion sauce, causing mild breathing difficulties in at least two of the MAMMERs and PAMMERs (Alex and yours truly),

Monday, 19 March 2012

Whatever Happened To The MAMPAM Lads?

Bolam: Not a MAMPAM member.
MAMPAM has been under considerable duress of late. Actually, scratch that. MAMPAM's very existence has been called into question.

If that sounds rather dramatic, consider this; MAMPAM is not unlike Fight Club, inasmuch as it has two rules. The first rule is: NO GIRLS ARE ALLOWED. The second rule is never take the word of MAMPAM in vain (there are several Traditions also associated with MAMPAM, but these are probably best tackled in another blog).

Friday, 27 January 2012

A beautiful MAMPAM

MAMPAM VI was a civilised affair, with minimal bullying, no spillages, lots of swearing and a nice film about a crazy man - Grizzly Man. Perhaps next time Fitzcarraldo would be appropriate?

Thursday, 26 January 2012

Wey Hey, MAMPAM!

MAMPAM is not in thrall to the cult of celebrity. We often contemplate whether a pizza dipped in Tabasco sauce and accompanied by a lovely glass of shiraz would be improved if we were sitting next to Tim Vine, or that one off The Only Way Is Essex. The answer is invariably a resounding, vomit-splattered no.

Monday, 23 January 2012

Happy New MAMPAM

The year is 2012. The Mayans have spoken of the apocalypse.

And only MAMPAM can save the world.

Everybody sing (to the tune of Neil Hannon's finest...)

Take the MAMPAM Filmfest when your carpet’s a mess
And it’s stained with wine.
All human life is here
Sipping red wine and beer, and we’re feelin’ fine.
From the Rogers who knows that to spill one of those
Would be suicide

Monday, 5 December 2011

The MAMPAM Christmas Special - XMAMPAM

It's been three days and I feel sufficiently recovered to document the most recent MAMPAM which celebrated the births of England cricket captain Archie McLaren, Eric Bloom of Blue Oyster Cult, and Germany's most lovable cannibal, Armin Meiwes, taking place as it did on 1st December.
This was a nice and destructive MAMPAM, in which we all got secret Santa presents, the secrecy of which was rendered void by Alex's excitement and desire to assume organisational duties.

Thursday, 1 December 2011

Once More Unto The Breach

MAMPAM rears itself up before us once again, its sinewy tendrails reaching out to grab its mambers and drag them down into the gutter while guffawing like a maniac. Tonight is the MAMPAM Christmas Special, and this is the deep breath before the plunge. With a movie acknowledged to be one of the worst of all time on the menu, as well as a Christmas MAMPAM Carol singalong, and Not-Secret Santa, this could be a belter.

Wednesday, 23 November 2011

A Lovely Bit Of MAMPAM

It's probably prudent at this stage to ramp up the history of MAMPAMs thus far for posterity. As with most clubs, the phenomenon grows and the beginnings can get lost in time, and when in years to come we will all be laying claim to the genesis of MAMPAM, a first hand account could prove priceless. As they say, failure is an orphan , but success has many fathers.

The MAMs and the PAMs Part 2; Mike.

I should have mentioned yesterday that there is an honorary fifth mamber of MAMPAM, though his enthusiasm for the club waxes and wanes like the moon. His unpredictability always gives MAMPAM an edge, and for every time he whinges that he has to be up early the next day, he will on another day wander in, unbeknownst to the rest of us, during the last chorus of National Express. His name is Mike. Sadly, Mike has moved on to new pastures so will no longer grace the annuls of MAMPAM, but his spirit will carry on, at least until the third bottle of wine.

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