All posts by Edward Lukes

2020

“Nuclear War/Buried/Graceland” at the Old Red Lion Theatre

This trilogy of plays, marked by diversity and connected by a morbid streak, is an uneven but bold effort at very serious theatre for this Islington venue and its artistic director, Alexander Knott.

First up, Buried is the true story of the playwright David Spencer’s father, who was buried alive during World War II. And you do need to know that before you sit down. Presenting a stream of consciousness, recounting a tough life in horrific circumstances, the monologue ends up more confusing than powerful. The performance, by the subject’s grandson James Demaine, is impressive. With quick changes of accents and emotions, the skill is clear. Directors Knott and Ryan Hutton show considerable resourcefulness. But there’s an air of a talent showcase that creates a barrier to being involved in this powerful story.

James Demaine in "Buried" (Credit Charles Flint Photography)
James Demaine in “Buried”

Next is a short sketch, with a mention of war, by Max Saunders-Singer, that shows a teacher having a suicidal breakdown in his classroom. Anthony Cozens takes the role and does well with the audience participation that proves essential to the piece. But relying on the crowd to feed lines proves painful. Despite a firm hand from director Sonnie Beckett, the piece is unclear as to how serious it wants to be. And it’s in questionable taste. Some people don’t want to see a pornographic film projected in the theatre – no matter how blurred.

Anthony Cozens in Graceland (credit Charles Flint Photography)
Anthony Cozens in “Graceland”

The lead attraction, thankfully, makes a superb finale. The first revival of Simon Stephens’ Nuclear War since its premiere at the Royal Court in 2017 reminds us of this exceptional piece. A meditation on grief and mindfulness, it takes in ideas theoretical, astronomical and balletic! Equally cerebral and earthy, it’s mind blowing and moving. Marked by experimentation and abstraction – in stark contrast to the others, which have plenty of biography – the emotion it engenders is remarkable. And the biggest praise is that I liked this production more than the original!

Knott’s decision to present a two-hander (Stephens doesn’t specify the number of performers) makes the action clearer, while retaining a fluid rhythm. Assisted by Lewie Watson, and with movement direction by Georgia Richardson, the precision and musicality of the text is brought out – a tap dancing section is quite brilliant. The performances, from Zoë Grain and Freya Sharp, are flawless. Often speaking in tandem and using the venue’s intimacy to great effect, this is expert work. It’s not a case of saving the show – the play makes up the bulk of the production – but Nuclear War is more than enough all on its own.

Until 21 March 2020

www.oldredliontheatre.co.uk

Photos by Charles Flint

2020

“All Quiet on the Western Front” at the Vault Festival

Incognito Theatre’s adaptation of Erich Maria Remarque’s book deserves the acclaim it has already received for bringing a text to the stage in such fine style. The physical theatre the company specialises in is impressive. But a focus on Remarque’s reportage is preserved: there’s a sense of shock about the events of World War I – a trauma the writer lived through – that is carefully retained. Remarque’s often cold presentation of facts, combined with a passion to let the world know what he experienced, prove a powerful driving force.

Directed by Roberta Zuric, with that all-important choreography from Zac Nemorin, the style of movement sees the five performers frequently mirroring one another or creating short-hand gestures to evoke characters or actions. The idea of the soldiers as animalistic or as automatons is conveyed with marvellous efficiency. The scenes of battle are impressive, and the athletic prowess of the performers is fantastic. But the technique proves just as effective with quieter moments, revealing an intimacy between these brothers-in-arms. Shared glimpses of care and attention prove especially moving.

Taking the lead role as the narrator, Paul, gives Charlie MacVicar the chance to shine – his delivery of the pain, boredom and camaraderie experienced are all good, while the moments when Remarque challenges his audience (or at least those who stayed at home) really stand out. Special mention too for Angus Castle-Doughty, Incognito’s artistic director, playing the young Albert and the company’s older mess man Kat. But All Quiet on the Western Front is the definition of an ensemble show. Success comes from these troops working together; sharing not just the precisely directed movements but a sense of conviction about the story that they are telling.

Until 8 March 2020

www.vaultfestival.com

2020

“V & V” at the Vault Festival

While historical dramas aren’t to all tastes, Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West make good subjects. The genius writer and her poetess-garden-designing lover are a biographer’s dream. Yet mixing their story with a tale of modern dating sounds tricky to me, a clear case of taking on too much and trying too hard to be relevant. Which goes to show you how wrong I can be… V & V proves to be a double treat that’s not to be missed.

The show is a quadruple achievement as two actors perform four roles flawlessly. EM Williams and Heather Wilkins are superb as the famous Bloomsbury couple and, in the present day, Lottie and Mia. Switches in time and parallels in the stories are dealt with impeccably by Misha Pinnington whose direction, like her writing of the play, is clear, concise and entertaining.

Heather Wilkins and EM Williams in V & V at the Vault Festival
Heather Wilkins and EM Williams

The epistolary form reveals the course of the two relationships with intensity, creating an intimate complicity with the audience. The beautiful letters between Woolf and Sackville-West are compared to online courting to great effect. Williams and Wilkins smoulder with Edwardian sexual repression one minute and show themselves superb comedians the next. Pinnington’s use of the letters shows her skill at editing – the material is wonderful. Meanwhile, the texted conversations turn into great crowd pleasers: from sexting and ghosting to deliberation over kisses and exclamation marks. The energy, and jokes, are great, while it’s fascinating to see how communication, and romance, has both changed and stayed the same.

V & V isn’t all light. Everybody knows how Virginia’s story ended (she must be one of the famous of suicides), while Lottie and Mia face problems, too. If I’d have liked Pinnington to provide a more overtly optimistic end for her contemporary character it only goes to show how attached I became to them; the restraint (OK, maybe realism) shown provides an emotional conclusion that packs a punch.

Pinnington’s skill is to show both differences and similarities between the couples so effortlessly. There’s no trace of period kitsch (zero trug count) or modern stereotypes. Four different women, all well delineated, and two very different periods in time are depicted with a light touch, while the common theme of love is explored with both humour and sensitivity. It all adds up to one great show.

Until 8 March 2020

www.vaultfestival.com

Photos by Ali Wright

2020

“Look back in anger” at the White Bear Theatre

Given its fame, John Osborne’s 1956 play is performed less than might be expected. This chance to see the show that became synonymous with the “angry young men” who changed British theatre is, therefore, welcome. Director Sebastian Palka’s production is unflinching in its commitment to the piece.

The young married couple and their friends, from conflicting backgrounds, whose flat share is a “battleground”, allowed Osborne to interrogate the hypocrisy and injustice of his time. The anger and passion here are clear – credit to Palka and his team. And special mention to Marta Anna Licwnko and Tina Torbey, whose set design conveys a sense of off-kilter claustrophobia and poverty. But whether you find all this – and how dated it feels – interesting becomes an important question.

The lead role of Jimmy Porter is a massive part for recently graduated James D Fawcett and he tackles it with a bold directness. For Jimmy is, frankly, odious and tedious. Unbelievably selfish and cruel to all, this character still shocks. His misogyny, presumably based on class, is extremely uncomfortable to watch, his arrogance is repulsive.

While the challenge from the play is clear – its “bite, edge, drive” are all present – the production lacks humour and steadfastly denies any empathy for its lead character. The latter is understandable, as Jimmy says some truly awful things. But his pain only becomes real in the final moments, robbing the text of nuance. Surely Jimmy should come across as a lot smarter, or at least wittier? The key might be his wicked irreverence, with tongue-in-cheek talk of his “sensibilities”, but all this is too seldom foregrounded.

Thankfully, strong supporting performances help out. Another professional debut, Aaron Bennett, gets a great deal from his part as Cliff, who is slowly alienated from his friends. And the two female performers are very good indeed: Rowan Douglas brings plenty of layers to the role of Jimmy’s wife, pinned behind an ironing board for too long, while, as steely and snobbish Helena, Holly Hinton manages the play’s faintly ridiculous conclusion well. In Helena’s eyes Jimmy is “horrifying and oddly exciting”. It’s clear the production shares her fascination with the character and the play. But despite some sound work here, I found little to enthuse about in this famous piece.

Until 14 March 2020

www.whitebeartheatre.co.uk

Photo by Nicolas Chinardet

2020

“Father’s Son” at the Vault Festival

James Morton’s helpful title prepares us for the topic of his nicely focused piece. The playwright achieves an impressive amount in three entertaining scenes, less than an hour in length.

Spaced between 1974 and 2018, we see three fathers and sons having difficult conversations. The set-up serves as a fine showcase for the talents of its two performers. Mark Newsome plays the fathers with gruff touches along with plenty of confusion and fear that make the roles frequently touching. In truth, Newsome isn’t quite old enough for the parts, but he rises to the challenge. Kenny Fullwood plays the teenage sons and is better cast, bringing truth to a similar range of emotions.

Father's Son at The Vault Festival photo by Ali Wright

There’s no doubt Morton agrees with the perennially discussed crisis of masculinity. But, blissfully, there’s little trace of therapy groups or theories behind his writing so that the dramatic situations he presents have an authentic feel. The dialogue could be worked on, the script being too quick to give the characters’ speeches, so a sense of conversation suffers. Maybe director Carla Kingham, who has done a good job overall, could help here?

It’s Morton’s plotting that is his forte. The trio of scenarios reveal themselves well – you want to know what’s going on – showing variety, particularly for Fullwood, and plenty of tension. Connections between the scenes provide another level to ponder on but are understated – shadows rather than statements – showing impressive restraint on Morton’s part. There’s an evocative air to the show that is questioning rather than proscriptive, indicating an exciting maturity to the writing.

Until 28 February 2020

www.vaultfestival.com

Photo by Ali Wright

2020

“The Prince of Egypt” at the Dominion Theatre

There’s plenty of theatre aimed at younger audiences that everyone can enjoy. This musical about Moses is not one of them. It’s a right royal disaster.

The show succeeds in its painfully clear aim of being big and bold. And, while running with the alliteration would be fun, it isn’t boring – Scott Schwartz’s swift direction prevents that. Actually, it’s just bad.

Problems come from a dependence on the show’s origin as an animated film. Projections, from Jon Driscoll, are impressive but overused and only reinforce how everything about The Prince of Egypt is two-dimensional.

Luke Brady is instructed to give us a modern Moses and he delivers. But the character is flat and his development paper thin. The focus on his adoptive family, the Egyptian Pharaohs, isn’t a bad move. But, accompanied by a pantomime High Priest and some confusing costumes (Ann Hould-Ward), what should be a major role for Liam Tamne, as Ramses, is simply a sketch.

Luke Brady and Christine Allado in The Prince Of Egypt
Luke Brady and Christine Allado

It’s good that women are brought to the forefront of the story. But Moses’ sister Miriam and his wife Tzipporah are further missed opportunities – another shame as Christine Allado and Alexia Khadime are exciting performers. The former just acts delighted every time she bumps into her brother and starts singing about deliverance without any preamble. Mrs Moses bangs on about freedom in a cartoonish costume.

Composer Stephen Schwartz has an impressive back catalogue and is the show’s big selling point, but his work here is lacklustre. These are songs you forget before they’ve even finished. And the score is horribly repetitive: anthems and ballads merge, dripping with sentiment and cliché. Every number has an unfailingly loud end. It’s enough to make you wonder if the Jews went into desert for a bit of peace and quiet.

The only thing worse than the lyrics, which ram home predictable rhymes relentlessly, is when people speak. The dialogue by Philip LaZebnik is awful. Take: “If you don’t choose your own path, you’re lost wherever you go.” Who knew self-help books were popular in Ancient Egypt?

The Prince Of Egypt, credit Tristram Kenton ©DWA LLC
The burning bush appears to Moses

Possibly to distract from all this, The Prince of Egypt is very much a dance show. Burning bushes and bloody rivers keep a crack squad of athletes impressively busy. But choreographer Sean Cheesman isn’t the miracle this show badly needs. Right from the start, with a bunch of very healthy-looking Hebrew slaves, the execution is excellent. But each trick is repeated too often. I guess there’s only so many ways you can move around fake stones artistically, but I’m pretty sure I’ve now seen them all.

The few attempts to inject humour are dire. And the tone overall is portentous and grates quickly. Having a Moses for a modern age fails. That the prophet has a crisis of faith and is confused about his identity is interesting. But the show hasn’t the depth to explore either. Moses even refers to God’s “magic” at one point. Bizarrely, religion is pushed to the side. The oft repeated hit number for the show, ‘(There can be miracles) when you believe’ – those self-help books again – becomes a nonsense. It’s never really clear what Moses, of all people, believes in.

Until 31 October 2020

www.theprinceofegyptmusical.com

Photos by Tristram Kenton and Matt Crockett

2020

“Death of England” at the National Theatre

If anywhere should host a state-of-the-nation play it’s surely our nation’s theatre. Roy Williams and Clint Dyer’s new work is an intelligent example of the genre. Full of insight and observation, their writing is expert. That said, it’s easy to imagine that the show will be primarily remembered for the extraordinary performance from its sole actor – Rafe Spall.

Williams and Dyer really have done a great job. The death in the title covers that of their character Michael’s father. The complex relationship between the two men, indeed the whole family, provides an intimate drama with plenty of humour. But the writers’ concerns are much wider, injecting the play with an urgent directness.

As well as getting to know a family, Death of England is a brilliantly observed look at a white working-class community and suggests a summation of the state of masculinity as much as race relations in the country. That’s a lot, and at times ‘issues’ feel forced, but Dyer’s direction of his text powers through.

Focusing on Michael’s father’s racism, Brexit and the Far Right raise their ugly heads. But Williams and Dyer want to point out that racism isn’t a fringe problem. That the father’s twisted logic includes a “time and place” for bigotry (criticising those who are too open about their prejudice) proves chilling. Michael knows he should have challenged his dad more and we can see the impact it has had on his friendships and his family. His cry to “search my history” may come in the context of the cache on a laptop but has far wider implications.

This root-and-branch examination of our country’s problems rests on Spall’s shoulder and he really is magnificent in this once-in-a-lifetime role. Addressing the audience throughout, and interacting with them a good deal, for all his faults, his patter and honesty make him appealing and often funny.

Spall’s is an incredibly physical performance, not least since a cross-shaped stage takes up a good portion of the theatre’s pit seating. With the character fuelled by drugs and alcohol, as well as rage, the switches from aggression to grief are frequent and sudden. The speech is nearly always at break-neck speed. Add the frequent shouts and tears (aside from worrying about Spall’s vocal chords) and it’s remarkable you can hear what he is saying so well.

When it comes to depicting other characters, Spall shows further intelligence. These are impersonations that Michael is making, the aim isn’t to bring another figure onto the stage but show Michael’s version of them. Getting to meet the whole family in this peculiar manner is wonderfully layered and brilliantly executed, serving Williams and Dyer’s play to perfection.

Until 8 March 2020

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Helen Murray

2020

“The Future is Mental” at the Vault Festival

I like the idea of presenting a show of short plays. And citing Black Mirror and Killing Eve as inspirations shows playwright Rosie de Vekey has a keen eye for popular trends. But if your event is a selection of sketches, any response is bound to count hits and misses. Regrettably, the tally here is poor.

There’s a clear standout piece called ‘Decluttering’, a prize-winning short story driven by a neat, topical, idea. Let’s just say I knew there was a reason to worry about the Marie Kondo trend. Suzy de Lezameta does well in the role of a woman who takes tidying up too far. Another story, ‘Mood Lighting’, has the germ of a good idea, where our feelings displayed to the world by a colour-coded bracelet – the mind boggles nicely.

As for the other four pieces, the verdict has to be a fail. The ideas feel old and clichéd: a silly satire on social media with a beyond the grave twist that lacks impact, a paranoid monologue about artificial intelligence and a couple of weak political satires, one of which riffs on Logan’s Run (and that’s from a long time ago). The attempts by De Vekey to pick up on trends and concerns – even if they are justified – don’t have enough originality to really make us think.

The delivery doesn’t help De Vekey’s writing, and directing her own work may have been a mistake. Too many small roles lead to a relatively large cast looking lost. And a series of nervous performances results in too many uncomfortable moments. It’s a mix of painful diffidence and overcompensation on the part of a cast that seems poorly handled. Even worse, little here shows promise for development. I’m afraid the majority of the scenes just don’t have a future.

Until 23 February 2020

www.vaultfestival.com

2020

“The Rage of Narcissus” at the Pleasance Theatre

Sergio Blanco’s play is described as auto-fiction. It features events and conversation that may or may not be true. The author is presented as a character – an invention – and the actor introduces himself, thereby highlighting a second fiction. The result is a mind-bending piece that’s heavy with theory but gripping nonetheless – a very special combination of erudition and theatre that’s sure to leave a lasting impression.

The strategy, relentlessly playing with the line between fiction and fact – what Blanco may have done and what he has certainly made up – is complicated and not to all tastes. It’s stimulating, puzzling and profound all at once, but it isn’t easy. It’s down to director and translator Daniel Goldman and the sole performer, Sam Crane, to aid comprehension – which they do brilliantly.

Sam Crane in 'The Rage of Narcissus' by Sergio Blanco at the Pleasance Theatre

Yet, in keeping with the play’s remit, Goldman and Crane never miss a chance to enforce theatre’s artificiality: designer Natalie Johnson’s set is mirrored, and the lighting by Richard Williamson takes a dominant role. The audience is destabilised and left continually questioning.

Things only get tougher when it comes to the ideas in the play. At its centre is a lecture about Narcissus that takes us to big questions about ‘art’ with blunt directness. Blanco’s is not a reading list I could keep up with, Derrida and Heidegger are thrown in casually. I wonder if André Gide would be a good one to mention: his treatise on Narcissus includes the idea that gazing at one’s reflection means losing oneself as a result. Which is, maybe, what happens next.

The Rage of Narcissus is more than a metaphysical mystery story, though. Inspired by bloodspots on a hotel room carpet, and a casual sexual partner who becomes obsessed, we get a ‘real’ murder story, too, that’s also of startling originality. It’s not just storytelling that Blanco wants dissecting. Alongside all the theory there are proper goosebumps.

The text has a forensic quality. Crane coldly narrates horrific events and then passionate encounters. A question arises as to the humour that follows. Crane slips into a cheekiness, accompanied by distinctly British giggles from the audience, that jar with Blanco’s frankness. For in tandem with the precision of the writing there’s a visceral quality that engages with all those cerebral concerns. If you think myth and murder is a potent combination, throw in sex and danger, too.

Blanco’s self-reflexive writing is likened to a Möbius strip or Escher drawing on stage. Fair enough, and helpful. But the description of a sex party attended towards the play’s finale struck me more forcefully: “The idea was to keep things moving. To try new things. To mix and combine…”. That could be a description of both the script’s virtues and its excesses. It’s to Goldman and Crane’s credit that all of this is brought out so vividly. Blanco has written an orgy of a text and this production knows better than to try and tame it.

Until 8 March 2020

www.pleasance.co.uk

Photos by Ali Wright

2020

“La Cage aux Folles [The Play]” at the Park Theatre

Jean Poiret’s French comedy of manners with a drag twist has never been translated into English before. That’s a surprise given its enormous stage success, along with the two films and hit musical it has spawned. Thankfully, director Jez Bond thought the lack a shame – I agree – and has recruited Simon Callow to produce a script that works a treat.

There are bold decisions behind the production, namely, to make the show gloriously old-fashioned. Time and place – the French Riviera in the early 1970s – are enforced; there’s even a reference to the UK joining the EU. As a result, there are plenty of attitudes that seem archaic. The play makes for an interesting history lesson, if you want one, just in case anyone forgets Drag can be political. And you might find the role of Jacob the servant (which Syrus Lowe tackles well) intriguing. If a lot of the gender politics is worlds away from being “woke”, maybe it’s best to just shrug and feel smug that things are better now.

There’s nothing serious about La Cage aux Folles. It only makes sense to judge it as silly and this is good nonsense. The plot is clear while crazy touches build well. The jokes are good, although in truth it’s the performers rather than the lines that get the laughs. No matter, it’s a fun evening and all the more credit to Bond and his cast.

La Cage aux Folles at the Park Theatre By Jean Poiret. Photo by Mark Douet
Michael Matus and Paul Hunter

Paul Hunter and Michael Matus play the flamboyant couple, performer and owner of the titular nightclub, with assurance. Their insults and rows are enjoyable and both performers make the most of every moment. Arthur Hughes is good as their son, Laurent, whose future marriage drives the plot: it’s a tricky role that needs to introduce an amount of restraint to proceedings. There’s also strong support from Mark Cameron and Simon Hepworth.

The fun doesn’t increase quite as much as you might hope. As our heroes meet their conservative future family, hosting them for a disastrous dinner party, the second act feels skimpy. Female characters get a raw deal. But Hunter and Matus keep up the energy with some quick transformations adding fun. Remarkably, the play manages to escape the shadow of its famous progeny to show itself as a fine farce in its own right.

Until 21 March 2020

www.parktheatre.co.uk

Photos by Mark Douet