A culture-packed tour of the UK – for me, at least

Colin Randall

• Last Updated: April 20. 2009 5:54PM UAE / April 20. 2009 1:54PM GMT

Since I had to travel halfway across the world before catching The Mousetrap (the Abu Dhabi Dramatic Society’s solid production of one of Agatha Christie’s weaker works), it seems appropriate that I should have come all the way back to view an absorbing exhibition on Shah ’Abbas, the Remaking of Iran, at the British Museum.

In the short time available between flying back to London and this week’s onward move to France, I have embarked on something of a culture binge.

It is not that my part of Provence is devoid of opportunities to savour the arts, but you’ll get the idea if I say the highlights of my previous spell there came from a troupe of Irish dancers, a Pigeon Detectives gig on a campsite, La Vie en Rose when it was still called La Mome and Jimmy Cliff in a beach concert.

In London, I have managed to pack in quite a lot besides joining the many visitors drawn to the fresh look at Shah ’Abbas’s eventful reign (1587-1629), an exhibition that fully acknowledges criticism of his ruthless streak as well as tracing the sweeping advances he inspired. There is, after all, nothing quite like a show in one of the West End’s older theatres, and the Garrick was a fitting platform for a charming production of Stephen Sondheim’s A Little Night Music.

Time was found, too, for some decidedly lowbrow culture, travelling 300 miles out of London for Premier League football. I paid for this self-indulgence by using a rail service that took nearly an hour to travel its first few kilometres out of the capital. Vandalism to one of the engines was blamed, just as vandalism to the track was cited when, on the return journey, our train had to weave north and west, instead of heading due south, in search of an alternative route back to London.

Family solidarity took me to the launch of a film on which my elder daughter worked as a publicist. Fifty Dead Men Walking tells the semi-fictionalised story of Martin McGartland, who used his membership of the Irish Republican Army to tip off security forces about planned attacks on soldiers, police officers and others. It was disconcerting to watch a movie about a man who had narrowly survived a murder attempt since I interviewed him in the mid-1990s. He was a fugitive from would-be assassins then, and will remain one for the rest of his days.

The character of his police contact was played by Sir Ben Kingsley, best known for his title role in the Attenborough classic Gandhi. After the screening, Sir Ben conducted a short question-and-answer session with the audience, and his presence ensured there was a little fuss outside, cameras flashes popping as he left the West End cinema. “Who’s he and what’s he been in?” a London teenager shouted. My daughter provided the answers. “Gandhi?” the girl repeated. “What’s that?” Even a little culture is too much for some.

crandall@thenational.ae