#29 - "An Utter Delight" - An American in Paris

Dominion Theatre

Leanne Cope is an utter delight in this glorious reinvention of the Gershwin film musical – the ballerina steals the show with her vivacity, delicacy and airy lightness. Director/choreographer Christopher Wheeldon gambled on her, and also on anchoring the film’s silly story more closely to history. These expat Americans are scarred by war, suspicion lingers in the air, and the new backstory for Cope’s Lise makes complete sense of the character’s skewed priorities and romantic naivety. These dark background notes only make the joyous ballet sequences, s’wonderful songs and bright primary colours more vivid. The French accents seem more hi-hon-hi-hon than when I saw AAIP in New York: but lucky me to have seen it twice.

#28 - "Treats women like Kleenex" - Don Juan in Soho

Wyndham's Theatre

“Don’t be charmed by him,” warn the posters. But David Tennant, our latterday Don, IS charming. He can be manic and sarky and louche but he lacks the savage predator’s edge that Rhys Ifans unsheathed in this play’s 2006 Donmar premiere. Back then I failed fully to see the point of the update: the priapic Don Juan still causes chaos, death and pain and dies unrepentant, though he now has scathing anti-modern speeches that sound like writerly ventriloquism. Patrick Marber also directs, and his revival has a sexy surface gloss, plus the elegant and watchable Tennant borne dramatically aloft on a rickshaw, but his play, like his antihero, treats women like Kleenex.

#27 - "Simply Overwhelming" - Ten Days, Six Nights (BMW Live) and Wolfgang Tillmans

Tate Modern

The Tate Tanks stand as a metaphor for the whole of Tate Modern which stands as a metaphor for the wider art world. They are simply overwhelming. What can you put in them to match their empty, industrial grandeur? The tremulous answer here is a rolling programme of works in different media for ten days and six nights. On opening day, music and light installations and affectless humans moving around dangling sculptures looked thin, though I liked the pot plants that turn the lobby into a living room. Fujiko Nakaya’s lovely mist sculpture on the terrace matches witty Doris Salcedo’s Turbine Hall Shibboleth in witty lateral thinking. Upstairs, the Wolfgang Tillmans exhibition overwhelms too with its multifarious bleakness.

#26 - Arguably the most exciting show in town - The Kid Stays in the Picture

Royal Court Theatre

Godfather producer Robert Evans’s autobiography is necessarily self-aggrandising. He’s seen stellar success, coke addiction, catastrophic failure, and loved and lost Ali McGraw. I disliked the schmaltz, swagger and technical tricksiness of Simon McBurney’s dramatization before realising it’s arguably the most exciting show in town – a rich, layered portrait of a man and an industry over nine decades, part montage, part collage. Evans is played by Heather Burns, Christian Camargo and by Danny Huston growling in silhouette behind a screen. Even as Evans implodes the production celebrates imaginative chutzpah. It’s telling that he – and Bond producers Barbara Broccoli and Michael G Wilson – chose to tell it on stage, not screen.

#25 - "Angry or obliquely sad" - The American Dream: Pop to the Present

British Museum

How extraordinary to see this show of American prints from Pop onwards alongside the smaller RA survey of 1930s US paintings and the Tate’s Rauschenberg show. Here, we see wit (Oldenburg’s plug, Dine’s pubic paintbrushes) retreat into pure abstraction or sour into something more angry or obliquely sad: Ed Ruscha’s Ghost station makes a fitting full stop. Such a sweeping survey is necessarily piecemeal – the section on feminism feels tacked on – but it’s a delight to see many of the works assembled here. I could have looked at Robert Longo’s Cindy and Eric all day. What will the American art of the next ten years look like?

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