Arts Blog

The Dallas Museum of Art announced Tuesday what it described as record-breaking attendance and increases in membership during 2008. In a press release, officials hailed a 100 percent hike in attendance over the past five years but noted that "the highest number on record for the DMA" -- 766,000 -- had passed through its doors during 2008 alone. Museum officials said membership also spiked during 2008, with 6,000 new members pushing its membership total past 25,000. Officials attributed the increase to the current exhibition, "Tutankhamun and the Golden Age of the Pharaohs," which opened in October and lasts until May 17. More than 350,000 tickets have been sold, and more than 290,000 have seen the show in the first three months of its seven-and-a-half-month run, officials said, noting that more than 60,000 attended the show during the two-week year-end holiday.

Photo: Tutankhamun, the boy king

Ah, yes, the gift shop. Tut's critics will have a field day with this room. There's a tissue box that allows you to remove the tissues through Tut's nose. There's a Tut monopoly game that costs 30 pounds - that's $60! There are Pharaoh bears, Tut DVD's, bookcases and wine chests in the shape of Tut's sarcophagus, a Tut necklace that costs 5,000 pounds - yep, that's 10 grand in our currency - a Tut umbrella, T-shirts, refrigerator magnets and dog collars. And, yes, Texas Rangers and Cowboys fans, there's even a Tut bobblehead! There are Tut playing cards, keychains and sticky pads. There's a Tut game called Mummy Rummy and even Tut-shaped crème brulee white chocolate wedges. And what can I say? The place was packed.

The 12th room contains a coffinette that housed Tut's liver at burial. The 13th room shows his burial chamber and the 14th is a grassy-knoll-like history of how he died and what the various theories have been. In 1968, a team concluded that he may have died from a blow to the head, but in 2005, modern MRI-like scans indicated there was no such evidence to prove foul play.

One thing about the Egyptians. They either didn't have a fear of snakes or else they really, really liked them. Serpents were everywhere in the age of Tut, and in the fourth room, you learn of their significance and of the concept of burial and how it "implied expectation of an afterlife." Amenhotep IV, who changed his name to Akhenaten because of his monotheistic sun worship - this guy ruled from 1353 to 1336 BCE - may have been one of the earliest architects, not to mention being the first proponent of solar power. Whatever, Egyptians seemed ready for a new approach, and Tut, who ruled from 1332 to 1322 BCE, was all too eager to give them one.

The first room chronicles Tut's complex genealogy, which is embellished greatly by Mr. Lach's clever design. National Geographic photographs and, of course, that mood music - which may not make it to the Dallas Museum of Art - add theatrical touches. The second room is a tribute to the Nile, "the longest river in the world." The room congtains vessels, wooden boats, dog collars, perfume bottles, an ornamental chest and an unguent spoon, all of which had the Brits pointing and exclaiming about the rare value of such a collection.

Designer Mark Lach has done a terrific job of creating an informative, easy-to-follow narrative exhibition that builds from one moment to the next. Say what you want about certain aspects of the show, but it is educational. Omar Sharif's 90-second narration tells you that Tutankhamun ascended the throne when he was 9 and that he ruled for a decade and that much of what we know about him comes from the discovery of his tomb by British explorer Howard Carter in 1922. Mr. Carter's discovery yielded a storehouse of "stunning" golden artifacts, but it also gave insight into Tutankhamun's objectives and how he tried to reverse the policies of the man believed to be his father.

OK, so one of the cheesier aspects of the Tut show is what happens just before you enter the show. You queue up at another set of turnstiles to watch a short video (on multiple screens) narrated by Egyptian actor Omar Sharif. It reminded me of waiting in line with my kids at the SpongeBob SquarePants ride at Six Flags Over Texas. One of the more cynical Brits I interviewed said it reminded him of a ride at Universal Studios. There's heavy mood music (you are, after all, headed to a tomb!) and the melodramatic tones of Dr. Zhivago himself leading you to the wonders of Tutankhamun and the Golden Age of the Pharaohs.

Aside from getting to the O2, London's Tut exhibit is as smartly organized as it possibly could be. Tickets are dispensed in groupings of time, so that 10,000 people don't show up at once to crowd each other out. It's an orderly procession that allows for systematic viewing and easy access -- so look for the same plan in Dallas. A dozen or so people "queue up" as they like to say here at, say, 3:30 and head through the doors. It's easy to see what's inside and you never have the feeling of being engulfed by crowds.

Ah, Tut: The reason I came to London in the first place. "Tutankhamun and the Golden Age of the Pharaohs" opened Nov. 15 at the O2, a 23,000-seat renovated sports arena that has an attached exhibition space. Organizers say they have 35,000 square feet of space to work with at the O2 and considerably less at the Dallas Museum of Art. The O2 is normally home to such mega-concerts as the Eagles (who play here again in a few days) and Celine Dion. But art connoisseurs tell me they prefer that Tut be in such a place and not in an art museum.

British newspapers are full of fascinating little psychodramas. The most recent involves a battle between film actor Kevin Spacey, wh's now the artistic director of the Old Vic, and the BBC. At issue is an American Idol-like reality show called I'd Do Anything. The BBC is sponsoring a contest to find amateur actors to play Nancy and Oliver in a re-staging of Oliver Twist. As a result, I'd Do Anything is getting 13 weeks of free publicity and marketing. Also involved is noted theatrical composer Andrew Lloyd-Webber, who's one of the judges. Mr. Space's beef is that theatrical companies like the Old Vic get no such benefit when it comes to free publicity and marketing. "To help kids find their own sense of self-esteem, confidence and ability to collaborate" would be better, huffed Mr. Spacey. The BBC said it "always reflected" other West End shows in its talent shows and stressed its "long-standing commitment as a patron of the arts."

It's hard to understand exactly what her beef is, but Madonna has been speaking out recently, not against Darfur, not against the war in Iraq but against London's beloved Tube, or Underground, which in my humble opinion is one of the best public transportation venues in the world. Brits appear to sail of sea of mixed feelings for the sassy American with a single name, but her criticisms of the Tube did not exactly bring her any new fans. As many have suggested, when exactly has Madonna ridden the Tube? As Rob, the very decent chap who tends bar in our Notting Hill pub-hotel, said the other night, "I'm as interested in her life as she is in mine." And then again, what should one expect from a Material Girl?

Sir Paul McCartney is known over here as "Macca," and Macca is often in the news, especially this week. He has a new girlfriend, Nancy Shevell, and the British newspapers, of course, have no shortage of photographs of the two of them together. Macca's ex Heather Mills is widely regarded here as a monster, so the general consensus is, what Macca wants, Macca deserves. If "Yesterday" means Heather Mills and "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" means Ms. Shevell, then by God it's time for hand-holding! Heather even has her own nickname among the ink-stained wretches of Britain. They call her Mucca. One rag describes her as looking like "a full-on tart."

What a difference 27 years can make. I last came to London in 1981, when I remember the food as being terrible. This time, however, I must have hit just the right places. I remember having a hard time finding good coffee here in 1981, but now, it's everywhere (including Starbucks). Mansara was a wonderful Mediterranean refuge, the Stockpot a low-cost hit in the West End theater district and P.J.'s Grill the best of all, just across from Theatre Royal Drury Lane, where Lord of the Rings is playing. Money, of course, is a problem everywhere you go. The dollar is worth less than half the pound. So double everything, not counting the surcharges credit card companies tack on.

Who could go to London without sampling theater? So far, we've seen the musicals Dirty Dancing and Lord of the Rings -- which Michael Jenkins, the director of Dallas Summer Musicals -- plans to bring to Fair Park, plus a terrific play titled The God of Carnage, starring noted film actor Ralph Fiennes (who appeared in Schindler's List and many other movies). You'll read more about these later in our print edition, but all three are examples of shows that you can only see (for the moment) by coming here. Not one of them has made it to New York, and Mr. Jenkins says the stage required for Lord of the Rings is so large (35 by 75 feet) at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane (a stately facility owned by composer Andrew Lloyd-Webber) that no theater on Broadway can accommodate it. Dirty Dancing and Lord of the Rings are big commercial crowd-pleasers, of course, and difficult tickets to come by. But The God of Carnage is an example of the kind of play that makes London theater so special. Bold, bleak and darkly hilarious, it's written by Yasmina Reza and features not only Mr. Fiennes but also three other terrific British actors, Tamsin Greig, Ken Stott and Janet McTeer, who got an Oscar nomation a few years back for one of my favorite movies, Tumbleweeds. Another cool thing about British theater? Mr. Fiennes is a superstar, but he did this one solely as an ensemble performer.

Don't get me wrong. We love our room. It has quite the writerly charm to it, so thank you Joyce Saenz Harris! Before I arrived, I told Simon, the manager, why I was coming to London (to see the King Tut exhibit), and he said, "That is really quite spooky. Our owner is the grandson of a man who accompanied [British archaeologist] Howard Carter to Egypt in 1922," when he unearthed King Tutankhamnun's tomb. "The room where you'll be staying is full of photographs from the expedition." And indeed, it was. Only problem was, they made us leave that room and move to an even smaller one, where the sink was in the shower. It felt a bit like being in Tut's sarcophagus.

Well, it got a little heated at our Notting Hill hotel on Friday night. A domestic dispute wormed its way into the smoky pub that lies under our very small room. The woman seeking refuge from her husband ended up at the bar, and the owner called the cops. No fewer than seven squad cars showed up. I had forgotten that British cops don't carry guns. The angry husband left handcuffed in a paddy wagon. We told Simon, the manager, about it the next morning, and he said, "Oh, a brawl broke out, did it? Welcome to Notting Hill!"

Well, what do you know. I had to come all the way to London to find out that Mark Thatcher is back in the news, and it's a story with strong Dallas connections. Mr. Thatcher is, of course, the son of former British prime minister Margaret Thatcher and a troubled man if ever there was one. Mr. Thatcher is the ex-husband of Diane Thatcher (formerly Diane Burgdorf), who graduated from Southern Methodist University.

One of the blessed events of visiting London is to see that people here actually read. And not just junk. The Tube abounds with passengers reading novels, plays and, of course,
newspapers. (And, yeah, a lot of those are sleazy tabloids.) Independent bookstores are not only not dead here, they appear to be thriving, as do newspapers, both bad and good. Whereas most American cities have been reduced to one daily, London has many. Columnists are sassy, funny and highly opinionated. In The Evening Standard, "London's quality newspaper," political editor Joe Murphy wrote of French president Nicolas Sarkozy's state visit and the banquet where he met Queen Elizabeth, "By the time the Queen gave her speech, he was that excited schoolboy once more, beaming away as if he was listening to some of the most sparkling rhetoric ever coined. Which, to be frank, was not really the case." And this appeared in a news story, not a column.

Ah, yes, comparisons. When it comes to airports, I would take D/FW or Love Field over Heathrow any day. Heathrow just opened up its new Terminal 5 at a cost of more than $1
billion, and the first day was, well, absolutely disastrous. Lots of British Airways passengers lost their luggage, flights were canceled, etc. And about all they got in return was a perfunctory corporate apology. That's one big story over here. The other one is the arrival of French president Nicolas Sarkozy and his wife, supermodel Carla Bruni-Sarkozy. She's being compared in the British newspapers to Jacqueline Kennedy and Audrey Hepburn. She arrived here on Wednesday (same day as I did, though my arrival was much more low-profile). As they said on the news last night, "Thank God for the French first lady! She's the only thing that took the edge off a ghastly day at Heathrow."

When one travels, comparisons are inevitable. So, coming to London from Dallas naturally leaves one feeling sad or resentful about what we're lacking back home. The Tube, or Underground, is a fantastic way to get around. And everywhere you go on the Tube, you hear performers in the stations. And almost everywhere, they're surprisingly good. We have heard violins, mandolins, electric guitars, trumpets and accordions (OK, so it's not all good). But apparently not everyone in Britian is happy about the shows.

When my wife and I (thank goodness she's traveling with me!), arrived in London, people kept telling us to take a "black cab" from Paddington Station to our hotel. Well, it turns out that black cabs are not necessarily black in color. Black essentially means they're licensed and therefore safer and more reliable. They come in all colors, it appears. Ours happened to be green. I asked our cabbie how Brits feel about George W. Bush. "You have to understand," he said, "that we cabbies are rather conservative. We don't like your president. To us, he's simply too far to the left."

So, French president Nicolas Sarkozy arrives in London on Wednesday (the same day as me, though that's merely a coincidence) and
steps off the plane at Heathrow to a controversy tailor-made for the Fleet Street tabloids. Mr. Sarkozy is married to former supermodel Carla Bruni-Sarkozy, and wouldn't you know it, right around the time they sit down with Queen Elizabeth, it's revealed that Christie's auction house will soon be selling nude photographs of the French president's new wife taken by photographer Michael Cornte in 1993.

So, I make it to London and the first impression is ... searing cold, followed by sticker shock. The dollar doesn't add up to even half the heft of the British pound these days, so if you come here any time soon, don't freak out when the latte that costs you $3.84 back in Dallas is the equivalent of $6 or more over here. The second impression is ... Owen Wilson. The dude is all over the place. Or at least his picture is. Posters for his new movie Drillbit Taylor line the walls of the Underground, which is a very cool (and inexpensive) way to move around. As a matter of fact, evidence of Dallas icons is all over the place here. The Eagles, who, as you know, were co-founded by Linden native and North Dallas resident Don Henley, finished a run of shows here Wednesday night at the O2, the same sprawling venue now hosting the King Tut exhibit, which, of course, will leave London and head to the Dallas Museum of Art. (Much more on that extravaganza later.)

Staff writer Michael Granberry (left) has left Dallas for snowy London, where the temperature is in the 30s. London is abuzz over the King Tut exhibition, which he's going to check out. Tut heads to Dallas in October and will be here until next May. In recent days in East London, the artifacts of the boy king have been forced to share a mammoth exhibition hall, the O2, with a certain retro rock group known as the Eagles.

But that's not all that's happening. London-only stage offerings include the musical Dirty Dancing and the play The God of Carnage, featuring Ralph Fiennes. In between bites of fish and chips, and having to survive the U.S. dollar's decline, he'll check in on the Hamiltons Gallery in London, which inspired Dallas' own Goss-Michael Foundation on Cedar Springs. Keep track of Michael Granberry's travels here.