Demi-Monde at Riverside Studios by Love & Madness about William Morris's life. A prime example of when a writer is more interested in showing off his research than engaging his audience. I nearly fell asleep but the temperature inside the theatre was too cold. And the play's the thing here as the same cast was also performing Richard III and that was a brilliant production.
Enron at the Noel Coward Theatre, previously at the Royal Court. This is fine spectacle. Young Lucy Prebble's script is solid--she's writing what she knows having grown up in a family of banker types--but the entire production sparkles with great visuals, choreography, and even a barber shop quartet. Enron's drastic unravelling a precautionary tale? Hardly since the same thing keeps on happening. Makes the play terribly relevant.
Peter Brook's 11 and 12 at the Barbican. As to be expected from Brook, an intriguing premise: In a French colonial west African country in the 1930s a dispute breaks out between tribes as to whether a Sufi prayer should be said 11 or 12 times. Alas, despite the superior acting of Tunji Lucas, the script was tedious and condescending. Even the signature Brook simple staging, minimal props, and odd instrumental music felt trite. No more Peter Brook for me for a while, though I've heard his theatre piece based on Shakespeare's sonnets is great so don't hold me to that promise.
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof at the Novello. So good it felt as if Tennessee Williams had written it for this most excellent all black cast. Terrance Howard and Anika Noni Rose rival Newman and Taylor and James Earl Jones as Big Daddy sublime. Directed by Debbie Allen whom I shall keep an eye on.