Paul Mescal headlines National Theatre's bold new season as Stormzy debuts for ground-breaking collaboration
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Metro
3 days ago
- Metro
Banky's right-hand man reveals moment artist was 'seconds' from being exposed
Banksy's former manager has revealed when the anonymous graffiti artist was inches away from being caught in the act. Steve Lazarides, who was Banksy's manager from 1997 to 2008, told Metro the graffiti legend was 'seconds' away from being arrested and revealing his name. The graffitist's identity has been a well-kept secret since he rose to prominence in the 1990s, leading to wild speculation and rumours as to who the Bristol artist could be. The world almost found out back in 2004, when Banksy was spraying the word 'boring' onto the side of the National Theatre on the South Bank. Lazarides was on the other side of the road during the close shave with officers as he was taking pictures of the artist in action. Banksy's agent told Metro: 'Just as he finishes writing it, the police were about to walk around the corner and see him. 'I was too far away. I saw them coming, but I couldn't shout, the street was too noisy. 'He was just seconds away from being caught.' Lazarides was also bound by his duty as the photographer not to get involved. 'As the documenter, I am not able to help,' he explained. 'My job was to capture what is going on.' Unaware, Banksy made a very lucky escape and avoided the approaching officers. The photographer recalled: 'He rolled off and went to the walkway underneath.' While street artists are far less likely to be arrested nowadays, Lazarides said back in 2004 Banksy would have been apprehended if caught, which is why he kept his identity anonymous. This likely would have meant his secretive cover would have been blown. Asked if his arrest that day would have led to his identity being exposed, Lazarides answered: 'Probably, because he would have given his name to the police.' According to Banksy's former manager, the artist came close to being unmasked 'numerous times', but he was 'remarkably lucky to get away with it' throughout his career. The pair, who are both from Bristol, met when Banksy was doing a feature for the magazine Sleazenation. Photographer Lazarides then took Banksy's portrait and a few weeks later got the call to photograph another piece by the now famous graffitist. The pair then worked together for a decade as Banksy's fame skyrocketed, with Lazarides snapping everything he did. Lazarides spoke to Metro as he unveiled his collection of photographs and artwork, many from their time together, to collectors at an event hosted by the Grove Gallery. Many of these include snaps of Banksy with his back to the camera as he worked. The photographer said he once asked Banksy to give up his anonymity during the early stage of his career, saying his true identity is too unexpected to be believed. Banksy emerged as a street artist in Bristol in the early 1990s. He's thought to have been born in the Gloucestershire town of Yate in the 1970s, starting his artistic journey in the nearby city with a politically engaged music scene. As part of Bristol's DryBreadZ Crew, he was influenced by other figures in the Underground Scene like 3D, also known as Robert Del Naja, a member of Massive Attack. By the 2000s when he appeared to move to London, Banksy had swapped freehand designs for stencilled ones, allowing him to produce pieces more quickly. Already the most famous street artist in the UK, he started turning graffiti into high art favoured by the wealthy, with exhibitions in Britain and abroad. Many of his murals call for peace and poke fun at authority and inequality, featuring characters like rats, police and children. He explained: 'I said to him, 'Why don't you just out yourself?' because then he could breathe and live your life. 'I said to him: 'No one is going to believe you. Everyone has that Robin Hood figure in their head and it is not you.'' More Trending But Lazarides said Banksy 'just wouldn't do it.' Since then, canvases of Banksy's work that used to be sold for just £200 at the beginning of his career, now go for millions. His most recent artwork featured a mural is of a lighthouse shining with the words, 'I want to be what you saw in me' printed on it. London went wild last summer when Banksy unveiled nine animal-inspired works across the capital. Get in touch with our news team by emailing us at webnews@ For more stories like this, check our news page. MORE: The ultimate BYOB pottery experience from just £23: 10 unmissable Time Out deals MORE: London's 'grown up' ice cream pairings and 14 more things to try this weekend MORE: Model's fury at phone snatchers after thieves take her mobile twice in three months
Time Out
3 days ago
- Time Out
Adeel Akhtar (Angad)
This nihilistic comedy about a British Asian politician who seizes his chance to become leader of the opposition is funny and frustrating in equal measures. In the opening scenes, first time playwright Shaan Sahota (she also works as a doctor!) does a decent job of spinning an In The Thick of It -style yarn about Angad (Adeel Akhtar), a very junior British Sikh shadow minister who suddenly finds himself in play for the leadership of what is implicitly the Tory Party. The opening scenes thrum with an energy not dissimilar to a previous National Theatre triumph, James Graham's This House, as it plunges us into an amusingly compromised world of sweary spads, cocky whips and malleable MPs. Helena Wilson is scene stealingly entertaining as the apparently humble Angad's shark-like head of comms Petra. It's fun. But then Sahota introduces what is essentially an entire second main storyline, this time revolving around Angad's late father's will and his family's lasting trauma at their patriarch's unfeeling treatment of them. We see Angad playing the role of the understanding if somewhat distant brother to his GP eldest sister Gyan (Thusitha Jayasundera) and hilariously highly strung middle sister Malika (Shelley Conn, superb). And then we see him calmly accept the will's shock contents, much to the horror and fury of his siblings. These two threads – cynical political comedy and more sensitive look at the traumatising legacy of a patriarchal upbringing – are by no means impossible to square. Akhtar's Angad displays broadly the same characteristics in each: a genuinely nice, humble guy whose head is instantly turned the second opportunity presents itself. But it's not enough to make The Estate align with itself. In Daniel Raggett's production the comedy bits are so broad as to undercut the more sensitive bits. It feels like two different shows crashing into one another, bound only by a corrosive cynicism about politicians. But on that last note it feels weirdly detached from the real world: there's no mention of Rishi Sunak, Reform or who the actual ruling party of the day is. I'm not even sure any real life politicians or political events are namechecked at all. I realise the intention is to avoid getting bogged down in political detail, but there is something peculiar about its blend of detachment from and immense cynicism toward contemporary British politics. In the Thick of It was very recognisably a version of the late New Labour era, but the 2025 Tory Party is an astoundingly hot mess and The Estate suffers from only wanting to engage with it in very general terms. Don't get me wrong: there are two pretty good plays here. The 'comedy' plot may lack in specifics but it has some very smart stuff about the way Parliament is composed of people from such an unhealthily compressed social sphere that they have all known each other since they were kids, and were literally groomed for power. The 'serious' plot paints the entire family as so traumatised by their overbearing late dad that they're each damaged to the point of dysfunction. It reckons more sensitively with the family's status as second generation immigrants and the lasting shadow of 'traditional' values. Either would have made a really satisfying full length play, or even a double bill of shorter plays. But the two just don't mesh properly: The Estate seesaws between amusingly cynical and just plain bleak; Aktar's Angad – even by this country's Trussian standards – just too much of a public liability to possibly be made LOTO, at least by the end. You're allowed a bit of latitude in a comedy of course but Raggett's production is only half that. It's decent, but too disjointed to serve as a classic debut.
Spectator
4 days ago
- Spectator
A bland, reverential portrait of a socialist martyr: Nye at the Olivier Theatre reviewed
The memory of Nye Bevan is being honoured at the National Theatre. Having made his name as a Marxist firebrand, Nye was quick to take advantage of the privileges enjoyed by the governing classes whom he affected to despise. He entered parliament in 1929 and began to hang around the Commons bar plying female MPs with double gins. His future wife, Jennie Lee, referred to him as a 'rutting stag'. Was he a serial bed-hopper as well as a problem drinker? It's hard to tell from this bland, reverential portrait of a socialist martyr. The director, Rufus Norris, adds song and dance routines, requiring the services of two choreographers, as if to suggest that Nye was a gifted crooner with a great pair of pins as well. Is that true? Or just part of the packaging? Michael Sheen enacts the phases of Nye's life without stretching himself too much. The stammering schoolboy turns into the angry teenage rebel ranting about injustice and exploitation. Later he challenges the medical establishment and forces private doctors to join the NHS by 'stuffing their mouths with gold'. This line is airbrushed from the script perhaps because it reveals that Nye was a worldly, corruptible character who understood the power of money. Sheen is compelled to play the role in a suit of stripy pink pyjamas with double cuffs and three beautifully tailored pockets. He looks like a streak of toothpaste. And this daft costume erases Nye as a political heavy-weight. He bumbles around the stage with the disorientated air of a lunatic looking for his padded cell. In the closing scenes, he succumbs to ill health but instead of having to wait for treatment he's allocated a huge bed in what looks like a private room. No queues for Nye. Hospital staff fight for the honour of giving him a spoonful of medicine. A flirtatious nurse reveals that she once saw him deliver an emotional speech in Nottingham which prompted several audience members to renounce their office jobs and enter the medical profession. Nye beams munificently at the wonder of his creation. The play's supportive message comes across loud and clear. The NHS works like a dream if you happen to have founded it. Otherwise, join the queue. Noughts & Crosses is a dystopian melodrama set in a futuristic Britain with an all-black government. The new rulers create civil strife by imposing racial segregation and restoring the custom of public hangings. The writer, Malorie Blackman, and her director, Tinuke Craig, evidently take a dim view of black politicians and consider them far more dangerous and despotic than their white counterparts. Some will condemn the play's bigotry. Others may be tempted to applaud it. The script, perhaps predictably, seems to regard most human beings as aggressive and intellectually limited. Nearly every character is an angry, foul-mouthed, violent halfwit. The show opens with Ryan, a pointlessly irascible father, welcoming the news that his brainy son, Callum, has won a place at a decent school. Ryan encourages Callum to work hard and to pass his exams. Then, a puzzling twist. Ryan joins a terrorist network and plants a rucksack full of fireworks in a busy shopping centre. His plan is to scare people rather than cause injury. Bang. The rucksack explodes. Seven shoppers lie dead. Ryan is understandably disappointed that his prank went wrong but he accepts the court's sentence of death with a stoical shrug. Callum is forced into hiding which throws his romance with Persephone, the daughter of a cabinet minister, into turmoil. Persephone is the only likeable character here, but she rambles brainlessly like a beauty-pageant winner. She wants everyone be nice to everyone else, and she dreams of a world in which love is more important than buying stuff from shops. This coarse, reductive and demoralising play is designed by Colin Richmond, whose set resembles a burned-out steelworks. A perfect choice for the themes of abuse and criminal violence. Every scene seems to involve a bunch of ghastly characters bawling insults at each other while explaining the plot. School bullies torment their victims in the cafeteria. Family rows descend into punches and slaps. A random suicide is thrown in for good measure. In the nastiest moment, Persephone is kidnapped by a gang of men who stab her for fun. If a recording of this scene were discovered on the phone of a teenage boy, he'd be accused of 'toxic masculinity' and transferred to the authorities for re-education. The show ends with a public hanging which offers a strange lesson to the audience: if a principled terrorist dies for a noble cause he deserves to be worshipped as a hero. The only purpose of this show is to spread division and hate. Luckily, the propaganda won't get through. It's too boring.
