RICHARD MURGATROYD enjoys a readable account of the life and meditations of one of the few Roman emperors with a good reputation
Krampus as camp as Christmas ought to be
Not a Coca Cola Christmas: How to Catch a Krampus
[Ali Wright]
ALEX HALL asks whether intelligence, and stupidity, are the outcomes of poverty and wealth, and cultural norms
BRENT CUTLER is persuaded by a new account of the rise of Christianity, and the fall of the Roman empire
If non-human nature is devoid of value under the capitalist mode of production, this book presents the case for its reintegration, suggests HENRY BELL
The Bard takes issue with a BBC portrait of The Balkans, and sets the record straight
ANGUS REID urges you to visit Britain’s most remarkable - and mind-blowing - festival of contemporary music
MARIA DUARTE reviews Desperate Journey, Blue Moon, Pillion, and Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery
How to Catch a Krampus
Pleasance Theatre, London
HAVING danced the night away at several of its industrial-scale glitterfests, I was curious to see how the international drag collective Sink the Pink would interpret the tale of Krampus — the child-napping half-bogeyman, half-goat of European folklore — in the murky confines of the Pleasance Theatre.
A little sceptical as to whether they could pull it off, I was pleasantly surprised by a production which, written and directed by drag queen Ginger Johnson, truly is “a black-hearted antidote to all things cheery this festive season.”
Set in a Victorian London that's more Hammer Horror than Dickensian, it has a spiritualist-cum-pantomime dame, played by Johnson, who's looking for her cat when she bumps into a desperate mother (Mairi Houston) in search of her missing son.
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