THE SORCERER’S APPRENTICE
Cert 15 ★★★★ On Netflix now
stream.theatre
This brand-new British musical from Richard Hough and Ben Morales Frost, the team behind musicals Billy The Kid and Our Man In Havana, tells the story of a sorcerer and his rebellious daughter as she explores her new-found magical powers.
Against the backdrop of the Northern Lights, father and daughter must heal their relationship and work together to save their small town which has been pushed to the brink of collapse in a bid for prosperity.
Based on the Goethe poem that inspired the Dukas symphony featured in Walt Disney’s Fantasia, the family-friendly story sees brooms coming to life thanks to clever puppetry.
Performances run from February 26-March 14.
Tickets: £15 (first performance is £10).
He’s an emotional man, Pelé. In this engrossing documentary, we see him sob uncontrollably as he’s carried from the pitch after steering Brazil to their first World Cup in 1958.
The now 80-year-old breaks down again as he talks us through the day that changed his life. When he gets to his final World Cup in 1970, the film makers wish they’d brought a mop and bucket.
“You lose control, you can’t explain it,” he sniffs, remembering the jubilant fans in Mexico. And it’s that raw emotion that defined his remarkable career.
When he scored his amazing first goal of two in the ’58 final, Brazil was searching for a national identity. After one delightful chip, they were the land of flair, courage and athleticism. And a 17-year-old born Edson Arantes do Nascimento was its figurehead.
The archive footage is a thrilling testament to his talent, but the film also explores the pressures that came with his status as the unofficial “king” of Brazil.
When the country’s new president General Médici began murdering rivals in 1968, Pelé became the propaganda tool of a fascist regime.
“I love Pelé,” says his old teammate Caju as we see TV footage of the icon hugging the despot. “But that won’t stop me criticising him.”
Pelé may have played from the heart but this insightful documentary provides plenty of food for thought.
One Of The Family: Why A Dog Called Maxwell Changed My Life
Nicky Campbell Hodder & Stoughton, £20
Maxwell gave me back to myself – unadorned, unvarnished, unspoilt. The only me he knows is the very best one – no affectations, worries, anxieties or jealousies.’
When broadcaster Nicky Campbell was nine days old, his birth mother Stella – an Irish nurse – left him for adoption at an Edinburgh baby home.
Many years later, when they were reunited, the first question she asked him was: “Do you like dogs?”
For Nicky, dogs have long been a source of comfort. As a child, he bonded closely with Candy, pet dog of the loving family who adopted him after a few months at the baby home.
He spent much of his childhood agonising about being adopted, worrying that he would forever feel like an outsider, and struggling to come to terms with feelings of rejection. But with Candy, he was able to shake off feelings of “otherness”.
As an adult, Nicky’s broadcast career went from strength to strength.
But his personal life was hedonistic and unhappy and he became intent, aged 29, on finding the woman who had given him up for adoption. A chance encounter with a private detective – a guest on his radio show – enabled the search.
If Nicky had hoped that meeting his mother would allow him to shed some of his demons, he was wrong. Stella was delighted to make contact but wanted more from the relationship than he felt able to give.
He struggled to bond with her, finding her needy, and feared he was slighting his adoptive parents by spending time with her. But one of their few areas of common ground was a love of dogs.
However, after Stella died, Nicky suffered a breakdown, stricken with guilt that they hadn’t been closer.
For the first time and with commendable honesty, Nicky details the breakdown, which led to his diagnosis of bipolar disorder, a condition that Stella also suffered from.
In a desperate attempt to bring Nicky back to himself, his wife Tina brought home a labrador puppy named Maxwell. Despite Nicky’s initial reservations, Maxwell quickly burrowed his way into Campbell’s heart: “When we’re alone together in enhanced solitude, the feeling of peace he brings, the golden companionship he gives me, is indescribable.”
At its heart, this is a poignant book about the search for belonging.
But as Nicky knows, the company of a beloved dog will always make you feel at home.
Bob Marley Songs Of Freedom: The Island Years
In death, Bob Marley became both an icon and a global brand. You can buy Marley lava lamps, lighters and lip balm, read more than 500 books about the Jamaican star, lay on your Marley duvet and watch Marley films and TV shows. And what’s this? He made music too?
Incredible music, as it happens. Powered by Rastafarianism, good tunes and weed, Bob Marley And The Wailers sold more than 20 million albums, notching up hits including Jammin’ and Waiting In Vain, and opening up the world to the power of reggae.
Arguably Bob’s greatest achievement was to make reggae appeal to rock fans and students.
That process started with 1973’s Catch A Fire. Released 10 years after he’d formed the band, their fifth album was their first with Island Records – and the first to get noticed in the US.
The Wailers’ sound was very different from the pop reggae that had previously brightened up the UK charts. They had guitar solos, they were more political. Protest numbers such as Get Up, Stand Up and
Redemption Song were as far from Max Romeo’s 1968 hit Wet Dream as Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On was from Baby Love.
But, like Romeo, Marley had a real knack for writing memorable songs. Disc two (of six) includes a live version of I Shot The Sheriff recorded at London’s Lyceum in 1975 and No Woman No Cry from The Roxy (the LA one rather than London’s punk club, although Bob did write Punky Reggae Party for his spikier fans). The solo on No Woman still sounds incredible.
And there aren’t enough words available to adequately praise that Barrett brothers rhythm section.
Island didn’t create Bob Marley, they just gave him the platform to show sceptics and snobbier souls the inherent beauty of reggae and its life-affirming potential.
BIG WEEKENDS WITH GREGG WALLACE (9pm, Channel 5) moves on this week to Rome. “The iconic sights come thick and fast!” cries Gregg, who’s getting a guided tour on the back of a local chap’sVespa.
Now, such is my loathing of the word “iconic” – all right, not so much the word itself as its lazy overuse – that a remark such as that would normally have forced me to show this programme a yellow card.
Two of those – or a straight red – and I’m afraid it would have had to go off. (You should try this yourself as a viewing technique, it’s remarkably liberating.) But when it’s Rome we’re talking about – or that GreggWallace is talking about to be exact – then “iconic” is fine.
Gregg can say it 100 times if he wants, although obviously I’d rather he didn’t.
Rome could almost be the city “iconic” was invented to describe, before the word started turning up in adverts for vacuum cleaners and interviews with Gemma Collins.
Did you realise Rome has 280 fountains, 900 churches and 83 museums?
No, you didn’t, stop pretending. I only know it myself because it’s one of the things Gregg tells us tonight, and I have no reason to disbelieve him.
It’s a city that’s almost matter-offact in its magnificence.
But even if it weren’t – even if it were much the same as, say, Basingstoke (no disrespect) – I get the feeling Gregg Wallace would still love it.
He really is the most enthusiastic man on television, isn’t he? I love him for that. He’ll always find something to get excited about, even if he’s making a show about a ball-bearing factory or having to find something kind to say about a bowl of custard made by some bloke out of Casualty.
Before that, KATE HUMBLE’S COASTAL BRITAIN (8pm, Channel 5) is a new series where Kate will be walking some of our loveliest coastal paths.
“I love the British coast,” she tells us, “the birds, the flowers and, most of all, the sea.”
So that’s handy.
She begins this week on what she calls “a wild and rugged coastline lost in the mists of time”.
I’m not sure “lost” is strictly accurate (if it is, she’s done awfully well to find it again and should maybe get a reward) but it’s definitely misty.
From Porlock Weir in Somerset she’ll be trekking 11 miles, ending this leg at theValley of the Rocks in Devon. (That’s a couple of miles beyond Lynmouth, since you ask.)
The valley is beyond spectacular, as you’ll see.
And its rock formations have wonderfully evocative names.
There’s The White Lady, for example, and the Devil’s Cheese Ring.
Kate finishes atop Rugged Jack. That’s quite a sight.