Last week Stuart and I went to see the play McQueen at the St. James Theatre in London's glizty St James's.
To be honest it was a bit dull - simply devoid of conflict or drama. Whereas it should have been fun, daring, insightful, vibrant, sexy, sassy and heartbreaking. Just like Alexander McQueen himself.
A girl breaks into McQueen's studio at night and discovers that he happens to be there too - the doomed artist suffering under the pressure of out-topping his last creation. He then takes her (and us) on a tour of his past - the tailor's, the fashion shows, Isabella Blow, the East End. The girl soon we find out is actually his alter-ego who turns out to be his muse, or represent his depression or something like that. It all gets very wordy and loses it's way.
The bit where he makes the dress - that was OK and the bit where he describes the woman with the blonde hair was quite good too. But apart from that... Meh.
Stephen Wight is excellent as Lee but to be honest the material should be better.