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New Moon is nothing if not an international advertisement for the hungry virtues of virginity and young people can’t get enough of it
The Twilight Saga: New Moon
Theatre
A smart, prickly and rewarding view of sexual and emotional confusion
Cock
Restaurants
Kitchen W8 is a bargain for this area, if such sophistication is what you crave
Kitchen W8
Too long and drawn out but very entertaining with excellent special effects
This is a peculiar play and does not work for me. Some of it is very funny but there are real flaws
Always been a fan but never seen them live. I was ecstatic to be part of this epic event. WOW!
London,
John Aizlewood's rating
Reader rating
Description: Erstwhile Hollywood star Juliette Lewis's scuzz rockers plug their sophomore album, Four To The Floor.
Just an act: Juliette Lewis sweated and swore a lot but couldn't sing
After starring in Natural Born Killers, being a pop star must have seemed the easy option to Juliette Lewis.
If, so last night's theory seemed to assume, she sweated a lot, swore a lot, charged around stage, covered the Velvet Underground's Waiting For My Man and wore skin-tight silver trousers, that would be enough.
Alas, just as acting isn't merely reading someone else's words out, being a pop star isn't merely aping Jon Bon Jovi.
Last night's show was filmed so Lewis should have felt at home, but, every pose, every hair flick, every water bottle swig, indeed everything except her ridiculous feathered-headdress (equally offensive to the stylish and the native American; any stylish native Americans present presumably expired on the spot), suggested an audition for the role of pop star.
Moreover, having the Hollywood clout to entice Dave Grohl to produce your album does not make you Foo Fighters, let alone Nirvana.
In fairness, Lewis was game and not merely for hurling herself into the audience during So Amazing.
Her four Licks were suspiciously handsome rockers from central casting (probably literally), who went topless for much of the evening, but who kicked what they doubtless refer to as "ass". Indeed, on Got Love To Kill, the experience genuinely rang true.
The problems were ones that no actress could surmount. Tragically, Lewis's singing voice was a Peggy Mount-style bellow which even fishwives would find hectoring and for the most part, her songs were lumpen clumps of faux-grunge.
Ultimately, she's no pop star.
Details are correct at the time of publication - please check with venue before booking.
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