All posts by Edward Lukes

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“The Wizard of Oz” at the London Palladium

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With The Wizard of Oz we yet again have proof of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s unerring focus and entrepreneurialism – not only has the maestro produced a terrific live family show, he has even guaranteed it an audience with the aid of a hit TV series, Over the Rainbow.
The new star born is Danielle Hope, whose trials to gain the lead role of Dorothy have so enamoured her to BBC viewers that they now feel duty bound to catch the coach to London and see the show. It makes for a warm atmosphere, as the crowd wills her on to succeed. And Hope manages well – she is an engaging presence with a sweet voice and a remarkable confidence on stage.

It seems damning to say that Hope’s greatest achievement is putting up with Toto. One of the warnings about working with animals should be that a dog on stage can steal the show. And that really isn’t fair. As this poor creature is dragged around, looking by turn bemused and bored, you can’t help fixating on his clever handling and the treats he is cajoled with.

Which is a shame because the treats here aren’t just for Toto but for all the children in the audience. The Wizard of Oz is aimed successfully at youngsters who will, without exception, adore it. A whole team of designers, headed by Robert Jones, have done a superb job, Jon Driscoll’s projections recreating the tornado are impressive, and the costumes are fantastic. Harold Arlen’s great songs are added to by additional music from Lloyd Webber.

Dorothy’s companions on her travels give impressive performances that embrace the show’s camp appeal. Edward Baker-Duly is a matinee-idol tin man, Paul Keating a remarkably acrobatic scarecrow and David Ganly excels as the cowardly lion who is proud to be a friend of Dorothy.

Using a bit more of L Frank Baum’s original story than we are familiar with from the film is a clever move. It treats us to some choreography from Arlene Phillips and gives the talented Hannah Waddingham a chance to shine (via a great lyric from Tim Rice) as the Wicked Witch of the West. The only disappointment is that the additional songs to boost Michael Crawford’s role as Professor Marvel and The Wizard still leave him criminally underused.

Leaving Crawford’s many fans disappointed seems strange, as everyone else in The Wizard of Oz works as hard as Kansas farmhands. Director Jeremy Sams follows the yellow brick road with the precision required for such a spectacle and the determination needed to captivate a young audience. It’s safe to treat any children you know to the thrill of this show. The only thing you might worry about is the effect of all those doggy treats on Toto’s waistline.

Booking Until 17 September 2011

Photo by Keith Pattison

Written 3 March 2011 for The London Magazine

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“Penelope” at the Hampstead Theatre

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Ever wondered what Penelope’s suitors got up to during Odysseus’ absence? We know they were swiftly dispatched on the traveller’s return, punished for making a mess of the house and forcing his wife into all those pointless hours over the loom. But Enda Walsh’s Penelope takes a deeper look at these men in a startlingly novel play that reimagines Homer’s world.

To add tension, those hoping to step into Odysseus’ conjugal sandals know he is about to return and how he will punish them – the Gods have delivered a barbecue they will be roasted on. Penelope’s beaus have decamped to a drained swimming pool from where they serenade her via CCTV.

In a series of brave performances the cast declare their love and Walsh investigates the limits of their language. Ageing lothario Dunne fancies himself as a poet, but Denis Conway’s spirited performance has his speech degenerate into anger. The elderly Fitz (Niall Buggy) flirts with philosophy. His speech is moving, but only shows how empty words can be.

A third attempt is the unluckiest of all. Karl Shiels’s Quinn performs a manic mime act with impressive comedic prowess but it’s the last straw for his rival Burns (Aaron Monaghan) – he may look like “an emaciated kidney after a long day’s filtering”, but grasping that love can exist even in this strange place makes the lies they are all telling intolerable.

It’s part of Walsh’s point that none of these men are likeable. Faced with these serenades anyone would take up the shuttle. The open question – are they irredeemable? Unfortunately, with little empathy towards them, no matter how unusual Penelope is, the play struggles to engage you.

It’s easy to see why so many admire Walsh. He is a writer never short of ideas with an exciting grasp of rhythm. His bold voice is sometimes obscene and scatological, mostly for comedic effect, but there’s intelligence here so fierce it can be overwhelming. Having been so successful on tour, this London run of Penelope at Hampstead allows the capital’s audiences a valuable chance to see an award-winning play.

Until 15 March 2011

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photo by Robert Day

Written 17 February 2011

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“Snake In The Grass” at the Print Room

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For their second production at London’s new theatre, The Print Room, artistic directors Lucy Bailey and Anda Winters have chosen Alan Ayckbourn’s 2002 play Snake in the Grass. It’s a delightfully dark romp involving murder and a haunted tennis court, and the strength of this production confirms that London has an unmissable new venue on its cultural scene.

Bailey directs and deals with Ayckbourn’s black humour in a speedy, efficient fashion; she gets the laughs and spends time on the moving revelations that haunt the characters and give the play its real bite. With the audience sitting like spectators on either side of William Dudley’s spectral, derelict tennis court we are ready to watch a deadly game.

And the cast is equally compelling. Susan Wooldridge plays Annabel. Returning to the UK upon the death of her father, she has to deal with blackmail and an estranged sister who “accidentally” overdosed her father and pushed him down the stairs. Wooldridge is utterly convincing as a disappointed, yet practical woman. When she deals with her sister Miriam’s distress by waving a conciliatory handkerchief as if to shoo her away, you can tell that every movement in this performance is under control.

Sarah Woodward takes on messed-up Miriam with similar intelligence. Described as the gentlest of creatures but also criminally stupid, nobody really knows Miriam and Woodward plays her character mercurially. As for the blackmailer, Mossie Smith’s Alice is delicious to watch as she threatens the sisters and suggests their plans to move to Fulham be abandoned in favour of a caravan park!

Snake in the Grass isn’t just one for the die-hard Ayckbourn fans. With Bailey’s fantastic production getting the most out of the play, it’s game, set and match to The Print Room.

Until 5 March 2011

www.the-print-room.org

Photo by Sheila Burnett

Written 15 February 2011 for The London Magazine

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“Ordinary Days” at the Trafalgar Studios

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Having had its London premiere at the Finborough Theatre back in 2008 we owe director Adam Lenson enormous thanks for staging another production of Ordinary Days. Adam Gwon’s musical is as far from the quotidian as it is possible to be. It’s a must-see.

Gwon’s story of four young people on one day in New York is a song cycle of love to the city. New York’s stresses and excitement, its random possibilities, are common enough urban tropes but Gwon presents them with unusual, appealing modesty as well as intelligence and great tunes.

Lenson has a similarly light touch, focusing on the intimacy of the piece and getting the best from his cast of familiar musical theatre performers. It would be a privilege to see these guys on any stage, but in a venue as intimate as the Trafalgar Studios it’s an unmissable opportunity.

Daniel Boys is perfectly cast as the lovelorn James. The chemistry he has with co-star Julie Atherton, who plays the recondite Claire, is palpable and both are in fine voice.
Deb and Warren
Lee William-Davis shows off his fine acting skills playing Warren, a sensitive soul lost in the city. Yet the revelation of the night is Alexia Khadime, who gives a tremendous performance as Deb, a frenzied graduate student who loses her notes and finds something more important. Khadime’s voice is as stunning as her comic ability.

Comparisons with writer/composer Jason Robert Brown are somewhat inevitable for Gwon. There are similarities and that is no bad thing. Ordinary Days is fresh, contemporary and brave. But Gwon’s musical has a more immediate lyricism and his writing a sentimental touch Robert Brown might shy away from.

Underlying Ordinary Days are questions that resonate with a modern urban audience, and ruminations on art and life that are delivered with emotional truth. Beauty is never far away in the city, or in Gwon’s wonderful score. With Lenson on board, Ordinary Days is 80 minutes of near perfection, so good you’ll want to see it again as soon as it’s finished.

Until 5 March 2011

www.ambassadortickets.com

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“The Children’s Hour” at the Comedy Theatre

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At the interval of The Children’s Hour, I happened to overhear a young audience member’s confusion. “What is the scandal?” he asked. “Is it because they are lesbians?” It could be that accusing schoolteachers of being gay, the central plot of the play, is now so outmoded it doesn’t even make sense, or that the child is just expecting something more lurid. Either way the perplexity doesn’t bode well – and yet The Children’s Hour works and proves to be a terrific night out.

It is easy to guess why director Ian Rickson took the risk – The Children’s Hour  has great roles for women. And the stellar cast should all share top billing. Elisabeth Moss makes an assured West End debut playing one of the accused teachers, Martha, with convincing aggression. She looks only slightly less comfortable on stage than her colleague Karen, played by Keira Knightley. After her modest debut in last year’s The Misanthrope, Knightly is impressive, playing an ambitious woman whose life falls apart in the face of malicious gossip. At times, she is a commanding presence on the stage.

The legendary Ellen Burstyn gives a performance of quiet brilliance as the teacher’s self-righteous scourge; it’s her desperation to do ‘good’ that persuades her to believe her granddaughter Mary’s story, cribbed from a book the girls have been passing amongst themselves. Mary has overheard the women visiting each other’s rooms and seen things she can only whisper about, blackmailing others to follow her. It isn’t that the story is convincing – it’s the paranoia of the adults that gives it power. Bryony Hannah plays this “dark child” wonderfully. As an actress she has had plenty of practice playing adolescents, and it’s paid off with an uncannily convincing performance of thrilling intensity.

Hannah’s performance is very much in keeping with Rickson’s strategy for The Children’s Hour. His direction wrenches every bit of tension from the text and he is aided by Mark Thompson’s austere set design and music from Stephen Warbeck. Lancet, New England, is a frigid place – probably close to Salem I’d guess – and Hellman, like her close contemporary Arthur Miller, is very much concerned with witch hunts.

While The Children’s Hour is an unsettling portrayal of how a sexual minority was treated in 1930s America, gay rights are really just a foil for larger concerns about the dangers of righteousness. In opening up her play to this larger issue, Hellman guaranteed its relevance for the future. Rickson and his cast get the benefits of good old-fashioned writing along with a foresight that makes this play carry considerable weight today.

Until 7 May 2011

Photo by Johan Persson

Written 10 February 2011 for The London Magazine

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“Greenland” at the National Theatre

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Over population is just one of the huge problems facing the natural world. It’s an irony that the National Theatre’s new play about the environment, Greenland, suffers from a similar issue. With four writers having contributed, the play is a disaster in itself.

Moira Buffini, Matt Charman, Penelope Skinner and Jack Thorne have all attempted to address the issue of climate change. The idea of making Greenland a collaborative event is ambitious, and I guess all aimed at inspiring a Big Conversation reflected in a series of after show events. The writer’s stories are supposedly interwoven to scope out the effects of climate change and how we react to the threat. Unfortunately the stories don’t so much interweave as unravel. Even worse, none of them is that interesting.

The future, it seems, is not just bleak, but boring. Director Bijan Sheibani paces his production far too quickly. Maybe sleight of hand started to look like a good idea during rehearsals, but the problems of this script aren’t going to disappear just because you race through it. There’s quite a bag of tricks on display: wind machines, a rain curtain, and plenty of things dropping dramatically on to the stage. The National Theatre’s always excellent production department is to be praised, but for hard work rather than results.

Nobody doubts the environment is an urgent issue but there’s always the danger that you are talking to the converted. One of Greenland‘s faults is to not just preach to the choir but to shout at it. And shout in a rather unpleasant tone. It feels as if the National Theatre’s audience is to blame for the world’s woes with its greed (mostly for coffee) and its ignorance (particular concerning the capital of Mali). Even worse, Greenland is remarkably uninformative. You will learn nothing new here and that is shocking omission.

A large cast wonder haplessly around the stage and can do little to save things. Only Amanda Lawrence gives a stand-out performance and manages to bring some humour and warmth to proceedings. And it’s good to see some young talent on the stage, Isabella Laughland and Sam Swann deal ably with their roles as young activists and it’s a shame they don’t have more to do.

There is little hope in Greenland. The aimed-for humour points a finger at activists and the complacent but only hits home ironically – “this eco stuff is making you unhappy,” says an exasperated mother to her campaigning daughter. We know just how she feels. The prevailing feeling is one of anger, justified but hardly constructive. The preaching tone taken might make you angry, too. But, sadly, for the wrong reasons.

Until 2 April 2011

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Helen Warner

Written 3 February 2011 for The London Magazine

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“Twisted Tales” at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre

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Roald Dahl’s Twisted Tales is a selection of stories, told to a group of Haywards Heath commuters by a stranger who joins them on their journey. Skilfully adapted by Jeremy Dyson, of The League of Gentlemen fame, they mix suspense with the macabre and, as one would expect, all of them have a twist at the end.

The ensemble cast play a variety of parts as the stories change. Selina Griffiths excels in this diversity, and Trevor White, who plays The Stranger who knows all the denouements except one, is deliciously creepy.

What Dahl knew, and what this team preserves in adaptation, is that “imagination is a ferocious beast”, so it’s best to let the audience do a lot of the work themselves. The bare aesthetic of the design by Naomi Wilkinson is a highly effective element in director Polly Findlay’s atmospheric production. An expert knowledge of how suspense works creates great theatrical moments – sometimes coming from high drama, such as a bet with high stakes, at other times centred around a small domestic detail, such as drinking a cup of tea.

There is plenty of humour in the production but it might not be dark enough for some. Many of the laughs come from period details – that surely wasn’t Dahl’s intention, and it can dissipate tension. But these giggles about accents and class don’t detract from the enjoyment of the evening as a whole. If only commuting was always this entertaining.

Until 26 February 2011

www.lyric.co.uk

Photo by Alastair Muir

Written 25 January 2011 for The London Magazine

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“Priscilla Queen of the Desert” at the Palace Theatre

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Priscilla Queen of the Desert has been running in London for nearly two years and, presumably on the grounds that you can never have too much of a good thing, the Palace Theatre has now launched Priscilla Parties. There are drinks before the show to get you in the mood, with goodie bags containing feather boas and specially commissioned cakes. Perhaps best of all, these packages give a substantial reduction on the price of seat.

I feel compelled to declare now that Priscilla isn’t really my cup of tea. Any show that sells a cocktail looking like a slush puppy is likely to alarm rather than excite and feather boas are not part of my wardrobe. But it’s hard not to enter the spirit of things when fellow audience members are clearly having such a good time.

The story of three drag queens who travel across Australia in a bus has a plot so thin it seems to have been abandoned en route. A juke-box musical format blasts out pop songs everyone will know incredibly loudly and we are treated to a series of dance and lip sync routines from an energetic cast.

Priscilla is hugely impressive on a technical level. Simon Phillips directs with military precision, and all the praise you have heard about Tim Chappel and Lizzy Gardiner’s costumes is well deserved. But this feels more like a tribute show than anything genuinely theatrical, and slight attempts at ironic appropriation never quite work.

The talented cast certainly doesn’t have the time to form an emotional connection with the audience. Don Gallagher, as the ageing transsexual Bernadette, manages well, but desperate stabs at sentimentality fail for his colleagues, whose characters simply drown in their sequins.

Drag just doesn’t have the charge that it used to. Priscilla can be brash and beautiful but it can’t really be bold. The  manner of cabaret currently so fashionable in other venues has performers that abandon impersonating women to flirt with fantasy and obscenity. When Priscilla’s players reminisce about the past in a flashback scene, the show excels. When they try to be edgy, it fails to convince. This may disappoint you, but the chances are you’ll be having too much fun to notice.

Until 31 December 2011

Written 25 January 2011 for The London Magazine

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“Double Falsehood” at the Union Theatre

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The Union Theatre in Southwark gives us the opportunity to see a ‘lost’ play by Shakespeare. Double Falsehood has been declared by the Arden Shakespeare to be a late collaboration with John Fletcher, and director Phil Willmott’s fascinating production provides us with the opportunity to decide if they are right.

The debate over authorship rages: the play has plenty of Shakespearean cross-dressing and a villain that seems familiar. However, the poetry is weak and there is a distinct lack of humour. But what does make the evening exciting is the chance to watch a ‘Shakespeare’ without knowing the plot! For that reason I’ll avoid any spoilers so you can see for yourself how gripping the story really is.

As Willmott has stated, academic speculation surrounding the text is less interesting than whether or not Double Falsehood works as theatre. He presents the play clearly and embraces some melodramatic vignettes that are compelling. Deciding to set the play near a monastery has some hairy moments – it can feel a little Carry on Cloisters at times, but the denouement feels all the more miraculous for its religious connotations.

There is a super cast to watch. Richard Franklin is suitably dignified as the Duke Angelo. His diabolical son Henrique is played by Adam Redmore with appropriate mania. Henrique’s victims are many (there’s more than a double falsehood going on here) and include the convincingly heroic Julio (Gabriel Vick) and courageous Leonora (Emily Plumtree).

The main victim is Violante (the clue is in her name). Jessie Lilley makes a professional debut to be proud of but the role itself poses problems for a modern audience. We are more or less comfortable with the outmoded beliefs of Shakespeare’s time, but Violante’s decisions take us too far. She certainly isn’t the kind of woman Shakespeare usually harps on about.

But join the debate – at the Union Theatre and online (the play’s website has a guestbook for your opinions). With the RSC preparing its version of the text (to be staged as Cardenio in April) the talk isn’t going to stop anytime soon.

Until 12 February 2011

Photo by Scott Rylander

Written 24 January 2011 for The London Magazine

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“Becky Shaw” at the Almeida Theatre

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It’s too early in the year to say that Becky Shaw will turn out to be the funniest play of 2011, but it’s a tempting predication to make. Suffice to say, Becky Shaw is the funniest play you will have seen in a long time.

Director Peter DuBois has travelled from America with the show. You can tell he knows the piece inside out – the direction is as sharp as the lines: clean, taut and getting the best out of this wonderfully witty script. Gina Gionfriddo’s tale of social mores and her heroine’s impact on the lives of one family is packed full of great lines. But as well as sharp social observation, Gionfriddo’s artfully unfolding plot opens up a delicious debate about love in modern times.

The cast seems to be having as much fun as the audience. A magisterial matriarch, played by Haydn Gwynne on fantastic form, has raised her children with an eye to the pragmatic. The ironic result is that her daughter Suzanna (Anna Madeley) spouts the kind of psychobabble we all love to laugh at and ends up married to an indie rock kid. This is an exquisite parody and Vincent Montuel’s wide-eyed approach makes his character’s earnestness hilarious: this youth’s so sensitive that “pornography makes him cry”.

Meanwhile Suzanna is also under the influence of her adopted brother Max whose maxim is that, “Love is a happy by-product of use”. Setting him up on a blind date comes with the understated warning that, “his coarse delivery belies a rich interior life”. There is much to dislike in Max and at times it’s a joy to hate him, but he’s so sharp he gains your admiration. This is a wonderful performance from David Wilson Barnes, close to perfection and a privilege to watch.

Into the family mix comes Becky. Inspired by Thackeray’s heroine in Vanity Fair, she opens a lid on the other characters’ damaged lives and throws in her own neuroses as well. Manipulative or just victimised? It’s up to you, but Daisy Haggard’s performance is so achingly funny you can’t help warm to her. For all the havoc she causes, we are grateful. We love Becky Shaw.

www.almeida.co.uk

Until 5 March 2011

Photo by Hugo Glendinning

Written 21 January 2011 for The London Magazine