All posts by Edward Lukes

2019

“The Flies” at the Bunker Theatre

Exchange Theatre brings famous foreign works, seldom seen in the UK, to London and great credit to it for this. Alternating weekly between performances in English and French, the company remit feels increasingly important in our potentially insular times. And this chance to see Jean-Paul Sartre’s 1943 play is far too rare. Maybe it’s the high stakes – or great expectations – that make the production a disappointment. Regrettably, it cannot be recommended.

Sartre’s take on the story of Electra has the people of Argos enthralled by a cult of communal repentance, inspired by Aegisthus and Clytemnestra’s tortured guilt over the murder of Agamemnon. Examining how religion and fear control people should be a theatrical godsend. But the multi-disciplinary approach of director David Furlong ends up messy – a gnomic nightmare of techniques with a laboured pace that is purgatorial.

The cast suffers from characterisations that seldom work and ideas about presenting myth that never take off. Raul Fernandes proves one exception, as a rather natty Jupiter, who is allowed ambiguity. But attempts at modernising the story look cheap. While there’s good work from Soraya Spiers, attempts at physicality, from hand gestures to running around the stage, are generally poor. The “half human creatures”, by turn the populace and the Furies, come close to being embarrassing in their gowns and pointy hats, then fishnet tights and high heels. There are simply too many predictable attempts to be odd for the sake of it. Yet another problem (oh dear) is the live soundtrack. Not that the music is bad or poorly performed – by a group called A Riot In Heaven – but it proves distracting and the cast have to fight with it. Audibility is an issue too many times.

There’s a little more joy with the central roles of Electra and Orestes, played by Meena Rayann and Samy Elkhatib. Their youthful appeal suits both play and production. Injecting energy into some admittedly stilted lines proves a sometimes painful struggle. Elkhatib even has to use the word swashbuckling and ends up wooden too often, while Rayann appears too eager, too mad too quickly. Lessons could be learned from Juliet Dante who, fittingly, takes the part of The Tutor with calm. It’s not just appropriate to the role but makes the performance feel less forced. Rayaan and Elkhatib get better as the show goes on, and Electra’s bad faith and Orestes’ turn as a rock star are at least interesting.

To see Sartre mapped on to a Greek story is fascinating. It illuminates his philosophy as well as the classical tradition and calls into question cultural heritage. Existentialism may not be fashionable right now, but these ideas changed lives, and Sartre’s radical freedom can still shock and excite. It’s not that Exchange Theatre prevents his work from being clear – that would be unforgivable. But the production does nothing to serve him. Bad ideas circle the show like flies around… well, you know the saying.

Until 6 July 2019

www.bunkertheatre.com

2019

“Afterglow” at the Southwark Playhouse

A huge success off-Broadway, S Asher Gelman’s play has the open marriage of Alex and Josh tested by a younger man called Darius. The play has the qualifications for a strong fringe show, with close character studies and an invitation to discussion in the bar afterwards. It clearly struck a chord in New York with a record-breaking run and it will be interesting to see if it excites London. For – with best wishes extended to a quality production – the play plods and its characters annoy. Despite all its transparent efforts to be sexy, bold and brave – might we Brits like our sex a bit less serious?

Afterglow is earnest. Attempts at jokes are made but are poor and contrived. Director Tom O’Brien tries a light touch at times, and the show certainly looks stylish, but goodness how important this threesome-that-goes-wrong thinks it is. The talented actors – Jesse Fox, Sean Hart and Danny Mahoney – each make the most of their roles, fighting hard to inject humour and pathos, but what roles to tackle. Each man’s solipsism reaches ridiculous levels: Alex wants space and Josh needs attention. Clearly a little self-knowledge is a dangerous thing, as both think admitting their faults excuses them. Meanwhile, Darius wants to be good, primarily to live up to the etymology of his name. Ultimately, they all wallow in self-pity over a drama of their own making.

Danny Mahoney, Jesse Fox and Sean Hart

Gelman could surely be more generous with his creations. It’s their explicit approach to feelings, rather than the play’s considerable amount of nudity, that is of note. Explaining every emotion – without subtlety or ambiguity – becomes tiring. And there’s only ever facile lip service to how someone else feels. The dialogue sounds like a bad therapy session. Maybe it’s accurate, or possibly satirical, but it makes caring about this self-obsessed crew next to impossible.

That the play wants to look at a social trend is fair enough and, if media coverage is anything to go, by the topic seems to qualify. But, alongside some predictable waffle about the “illusion of choice” facing gay men nowadays, we all know this story will end in tears. There’s an interesting attempt to focus the play, many themes found in gay plays are absent, but the result is little sense of a world outside the bedroom. Darius’ finances make an incongruous exception that could have been explored more. Quite simply, too little happens here. Alex’s observation that nobody has written a fairy tale for polyamory isn’t news (if Gelman had tried just that, perhaps he might have challenged us more). And, like many a story that sounds risqué, Afterglow is ultimately conservative. Arguably, that’s the biggest turn off.

Until 20 July 2019

www.southwarkplayhouse.co.uk

Photos by Darren Bell

2019

“Garry” at the White Bear Theatre

Graham Watts’ quality production of this neglected play by Sophie Treadwell is a tough one to write about. That this world premiere is 65 years late indicates the unjust difficulties its author faced. It’s important to see more work by this great woman writer. And to see the topics of homosexuality, sexual violence and prostitution dealt with in such an early work is fascinating. But while it’s an admirable labour of love for Watts as director and producer, the play has missed its moment.

The titular lead, played with gusto by Thomas Martin, is so tormented by his homosexuality that he kills a man who picks him up in a hotel room. In a nice twist, the focus is really his sham marriage with the naïve Wilma who, having failed in her quest to ‘save’ Garry, still wants to stand by him. It’s Wilma’s play and the part makes a true starring role for Phebe Alys, who is terrific throughout. But while the piece doesn’t lack dramatic potential, the psychology offered is basic and setting out its scenario is so laboured that the play shows its age.

So, while the subject matter is bold, the show lacks tension. There’s no flaw on the part of Watts and the cast. It’s just that everything is spelled out too clearly and is predictable anyway. Garry’s status as a “punk” feels quaint – it’s only when he starts explaining his “flashes of hate” that he becomes scary. Wilma is too much the innocent abroad, although Alys is superb at reflecting how her husband being “afraid inside” becomes contagious. But both characters contain so little self-awareness that they fail to convince. The supporting characters (again, nicely played by Claire Bowman and Matthew Wellard) inject some questioning cynicism but only act as foils and are similarly flat and repetitive.

Treadwell’s skills are clear and considerable: the play’s structure is precise and there’s an impressive amount of action squeezed into one room. But, in pushing its 1950s audience, too much has to be explained and we end up with no surprises. As much as some bigots might like it, we no longer need to spell out the very idea of homosexuals existing. What’s going on with Garry is all too obvious at every step and much of the play’s shocks and twists are clear too early. The piece might be important and interesting history, but it isn’t one for today.

Until 22 June 2019

www.whitebeartheatre.co.uk

Photo by Ali Wright

2019

“Rosmersholm” at the Duke of York Theatre

Theatre folk love to make revivals of plays relevant to current times. Now and then, the connections made seem forced, but this new adaptation by Duncan Macmillan of Ibsen’s play from 1886 resonates with the present in a way that frequently astounds. Set around an election, with a country polarised and inequality increasing, nationalism and fake news are everywhere. Meanwhile, the play’s central figure of Rosmer recognises that his privilege comes with a “moral debt” – as they say on Twitter, he is ‘woke’. A conscience examined in the finest detail and a brilliant performance by Tom Burke contribute to a superb production that fizzes with topicality.

Rosmersholm is no dry political disquisition. Giles Terera’s stage presence – as the establishment figure of Andreas Kroll – makes sure that the debate is entertaining. Rosmer’s brother-in-law and old friend, Kroll views radicalism as a threat to not just the country but the soul. And there’s more – ghosts for a start – which director Ian Rickson allows to be symbolic as well as pretty creepy. The characters and the damaged house of Rosmer, with its gorgeous set from Rae Smith, are haunted in many ways, with gradual revelations about the family’s history that make this quite the thriller. It’s all balanced expertly by Rickson and, if the evening is overpowering at times, it’s always exciting.

Tom Burke and Giles Terera

Above all, Rosmersholm is a romance – a particularly intense and tragic one. Marking out Rosmer as a “fallen man” involved with an “independent woman” could remind us too forcefully that this is a period piece. But not a jot. While Burke brings out the complexities of his role as a former pastor who has lost his faith and whose family name becomes a political football, his love interest, Rebecca West, is made the star of the show. This is a tremendous vehicle for Hayley Atwell, who gives a performance full of fantastic detail. West even seems as if she might provide a happy ending. You don’t need to have seen too much Ibsen to be suspicious of that, but Atwell and Rickson make subsequent revelations edge-of-the-seat stuff.

This is a relationship based on talking politics (that’s how our couple fell in love). The chemistry is fantastic, but the ideals discussed are also exciting and challenging. West proves an extreme figure who allows no compromise and there’s an immaturity in both her and Rosmer – take your pick blaming stunted upbringings or a narrow society – that leads to catastrophe. Rosmersholm becomes a frightening place – the talk is of sickness and sacrifice, death or change. No middle ground is allowed. It’s surely just the position, with all its dangers, that we face right now.

Until 20 July 2019

www.rosmersholmplay.com

Photos by Johan Persson

2019

“The Starry Messenger” at Wyndham’s Theatre

Reprising his mammoth role in Kenneth Lonergan’s 2009 play proves an undoubted triumph for Matthew Broderick. As Mark, a “pedestrian” teacher of astronomy classes, Broderick delivers the text’s wit perfectly and sparse moments of emotion are superbly handled. But consider what an odd creation Mark is, being notable for dead-pan defeatism, extraordinary patience and unbelievable politeness. It’s a bizarre idea for a play to revel in how boring the main role is. Broderick meets the challenge with winning appeal and remarkable control. Yet nothing can make time with this character and his mid-life crisis stellar.

Lonergan’s odd strategies are clear in his dialogue, too. Ruthlessly pursuing a mundane realism means that long conversations go nowhere and are filled with pointless details. It’s an achievement of sorts but hard work for an audience. And, in case you’re wondering, we’re not talking metaphors here – Mark is insistent about that! As for the play’s plots, to have so many stories covering so many themes – death, divorce, family, faith and education – then not to develop them must be deliberate. The quirkiness has a certain charm, which director Sam Yates does an expert job in delivering. And yet… Presenting us with the cosmos and dry cleaning – big themes and minutiae – may take us close to everyday life, but it makes for pretty dull theatre.

There’s plenty to appreciate as Lonergan downplays the various dramas he sets up. Yates garners superb performances from a talented cast that form a collection of scenes with memorable moments. Elizabeth McGovern does well as Mark’s long-suffering wife, while Jim Norton gives a strong performance as a man at the end of his life. Even Mark’s pupils are well delineated (Jenny Galloway and Sid Sagar) although far too much time is spent in these scenes. And Rosalind Eleazar nearly steals the show as a nurse in training who starts an affair with Mark. Managing to make her passion for the man believable is no small achievement.

There’s a warm glow from all the characters – more or less reasonable, articulate and well-motivated – which indicates Lonergan is making a point, again. It’s another way to stifle drama. Most of us walking in on an illicit kiss would surely react a little more pointedly than we see here. For The Starry Messenger it all seems to be something to shrug at. That life has no meaning is a little too clear, and religion and spirituality are dismissed too repeatedly – at least to make good drama. But, like it or not, most of us search for insights from a play. What this one has to say about morality and mortality ends up slim. Three hours is a long time to point out that people are insignificant specks in the universe. Such a message is hardly out of this world.

Until 10 August 2019

www.starrymessengerplay.com

Photo by Marc Brenner

2019

“The Merry Wives of Windsor” at Shakespeare’s Globe

Shakespeare’s comedy, containing all manner of trials for married life, could well be the perfect fit for the South Bank venue that bears his name. In Elle While’s production, the often broad humour enjoyed in productions at The Globe is in full force. The show is as smutty as it is witty, all out to include the crowd, and a great deal of fun.

The setting for Sir John Falstaff’s efforts to become a gigolo – and the plots to stop him – is updated to the 1930s. The decade provides some lovely costumes from designer Charlie Cridlan while Frank Moon’s music adds a great deal of energy. But the production is very much for today, with an eye on the #metoo movement the men here are pretty awful. I’ll not argue with the observation but there’s a danger, as men try to tyrannize wives and daughters, that the comedy will turn sour; it’s While’s achievement that the play still manages to be funny.

With the husbands, who aren’t really going to be cuckolded, Forbes Masson has a nice line in apoplectic rage while Jude Owusu does well with his character’s jealousy. The men who surround their houses, a trio of suitors and a Welsh parson, are also easy to laugh at (with Richard Katz’s ‘Allo ‘Allo accent making him stand out). Meanwhile, Falstaff becomes a real villain. The interpretation is fair enough when you consider his plans. Pearce Quigley’s performance is undoubtedly a success: his deadpan delivery gets a lot of laughs and his plentiful adlibs, while getting most of their charge from seeming irreverent, are good. Just one question, against all the odds, don’t we want Falstaff to have some charm?

There’s no doubting Quigley’s success with physical comedy – he can really hold a stage. Indeed a big key to the success of the show lies with its continual movement, most obviously with Sasha Milavic Davies’ choreography and a lovely little recap scene that is mimed. But a combination of manic dashes and confident surveying of the stage are carefully balanced throughout. The Merry Wives of Windsor isn’t a true farce, the pace is different and While understands that. You can see the combination in Falstaff’s final humiliation, when the cast mask themselves for a fairy masque, (which will look quite lovely when the weather improves) – here’s a scene marked by a wonderful sense of rhythm.

The real triumph of the production comes with the women in the play which it brings to the fore and makes the real stars. Sarah Finigan and Bryony Hannah take the leads as the eponymous wives and give delightful performances. They’re joined by a feisty Anne, the wonderful Boadicea Ricketts, who excels at carrying the show’s story of young love. And the play’s democratic bent adds further joy with its working class figures. There’s Mistress Quickly, of course, but a clever recasting of the local landlord as a hostess makes both Anita Reynolds and Anne Odeke major roles that add heart to the show. Revelling in its female characters, While delivers not just merry wives, but merry women all around, and a happy audience as well.

Until 12 October 2019

www.shakespearesglobe.com

Photo by Helen Murray

2019

“Orpheus Descending” at the Menier Chocolate Factory

While recent revivals of works by the great Arthur Miller have attracted a lot of deserved attention, new productions of plays by his compatriot Tennessee Williams are just as exciting. This one, showcasing a difficult piece that’s often ignored or dismissed, should be a hot ticket. Director Tamara Harvey has crafted a great show that views the text as an opportunity rather than a problem, and the result is revelatory.

Harvey isn’t satisfied with the clichés of Southern Gothic that surround much of Williams’ work. She takes a quieter approach and, at first, the arrival of a charismatic stranger in a small town is played – almost – like a soap opera. There’s a strong sense of community embodied by gossiping neighbours, roles that Catrin Aaron and Laura Jane Matthewson excel in. After all, there’s no reason for the set-up to be instantly claustrophobic. There’s plenty of time for that to develop.

The same restraint is shown with the central pairing of the shopkeeper Lady Torrance and the wandering minstrel Valentine Xavier who comes to work for her. We can see Lady’s frustration and his charisma from the start, but the move into an affair is depicted with sophistication. The excellent performances from Hattie Morahan and Seth Numrich intrigue the audience before ratcheting up the tension.

Of course, Orpheus Descending has oddities – wonderful ones. Lady ends up as one of Williams’ most tragic female leads (which is saying something), while Valentine’s fate aims at being mythic. Yet Morahan prevents Lady from being too much the victim, exciting our interest and arousing our sympathy. Numrich makes his role credible by underplaying the extraordinary – he’s a nice guy rather than some unearthly gigolo.

You might be wondering if Harvey has shorn off too much of the show and perhaps domesticated Williams somehow? But it would be a tough allegation to substantiate. Music and myth are still central to the piece – and focused all the better. The score from Simon Slater is excellent, if too muted. The figure of Uncle Pleasant, suggesting both history and racism – played with commanding presence by Valentine Hanson – is given some of Williams’ scene-setting stage directions to read, enforcing his all-seeing role. There’s still plenty to question and unnerve.

Jemima Roper

Harvey’s strategy in miniature is shown with the role of local girl gone wrong, Carol. Suggesting conflicts in human nature that Williams wanted to examine makes it a tough call for a performer. But Jemima Roper conveys the ideas with real drama, presenting the desperate figure of a “lewd vagrant”, and a campaigner, clear about the corruption that surrounds her. Finally, she is a visionary who is “sick with neon”. Carefully taking us through these steps enforces the play’s structure, characters and ideas. With Harvey’s skills, Orpheus Descending gradually goes up, up, up, all the way.

Until 6 July 2019

www.menierchocolatefactory.com

Photos by Johan Persson

2019

“Dead Dog in a Suitcase (and other love songs)” at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre

This welcome return of Kneehigh’s much admired reworking of John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera is ripe for our times. The show is dark – recreating 18th-century villains in a world of corrupt politicians and organised crime, it pushes into pitch black territory. Politically crude and frequently rude, this is a protest piece with anarchic urgency that condemns money, power and the state of the world.

Writer Carl Grose is stark in his views of human nature, which is the key to the show’s satirical punch. The action is led by Martin Hyder and Rina Fatania, who give brilliantly overblown performances as small town mafiosos murdering their way to a mayoralty. For law and order, Giles King’s maniacal chief of police is frightening stuff, flip-flopping between bribery and blood lust. His target is Macheath, a sinister hitman in this version. Rendered cold rather than charismatic in Dominic Marsh’s sterling performance, Macheath brings the personal into politics, deciding between a life of love, a noble death or a career in crime. The result isn’t pretty. Interestingly, the sexual politics in the piece haven’t been updated as much as you might expect. Macheath’s women are still dopey for him, though the roles are performed with spice by Beverly Rudd and Angela Hardie.

Rina Fatania

Maybe the madness for Macheath is appropriate in a show that calls for a touch of chaos all around. Consider the music. All those songs promised in the title are eclectic to an extreme, and composer Charles Hazlewood’s range of references is awe inspiring. There’s a trade off with coherence – and few will enjoy all the numbers – but each song adds to the crazy appeal of the show, and the energy from Mike Shepherd’s direction, with his talented cast of actor musicians, is considerable. The detail throughout is fantastic, not just with Grose’s tongue-tying script – this is a keep-your-eyes-peeled show. With swapping suitcases and plenty of multiple roles (Georgia Frost does especially well here), you don’t want to miss a moment.

While the call for changes in society and for personal responsibility are not convincing enough in this grim vision of our state, they are depicted well through the only character we come close to caring for – Patrycja Kujawska’s Widow Goodman forms the spine of the show (and her violin playing is fantastic). It’s a shame that Punch – yes, as in Judy – gets the last word. While Sarah Wright, who led the puppetry on press night, is fantastic, Punch’s nightmarish commentary ends up overwhelming. That Punch talks most of the sense on stage is downright depressing. We’re not in that much trouble, are we?

Until 15 June and then touring until 13 July 2019

www.lyric.co.uk

Photos by Steve Tanner

2019

“Sweet Charity” at the Donmar Warehouse

While Anne-Marie Duff is no stranger to acclaim, certainly not on this blog, her casting as the heroine in Cy Coleman and Dorothy Fields’ masterpiece marks her first effort in musical theatre. Of course, plenty of actors who aren’t singers do well in musicals. If you want to add Duff to that list, then this is a great start. Her Charity is a moving figure, but her singing makes you wince, which seems a shame with such wonderful songs. Nonetheless, Duff’s “laughing and giggling” dance hall hostess is often brilliant, her heartbreak and hope visceral. It’s a star turn not to be missed – unfortunately, this isn’t true of the rest of the production.

The twist from director Josie Rourke is to set the show roughly around Andy Warhol’s Factory. And this turns into a dead end. Sweet Charity is, surely, a piece from the 1960s in dialogue with the 1950s, tackling the changes in society between the decades. So adding Warhol at least needs explaining. Instead we get clever touches – Charity’s encounter with a film star (played rather flatly by Martin Marquez) includes a screen-print portrait – that tend to prove cumbersome. And no Warhol figure actually appears (I can’t be the only one with a literal mind expecting cult leader Daddy Brubeck to don a silver wig). If the idea is to comment on Charity or the way she is treated, it was lost on me.

Rourke has a conviction in her direction that she certainly passes on to the ensemble and they work hard. But they don’t excite. It’s Duff’s show – to a fault – as the rest of the cast fail to individuate their roles. The choreography provides another star turn, with Wayne McGregor stepping into the legendary Bob Fosse’s shoes. The connections he draws are respectful and there’s no shortage of invention. But there’s a suspicion that the cast aren’t quite up to his demands on them. It’s never a question of energy, although too much of that comes from a revolving stage, but when even the hit number Rhythm of Life lacks excitement, you know something has gone wrong.

The Warhol concept interrupts the flow of the show. We’re presented with set piece numbers, prepared by The Factory crew, too frequently containing some gimmick. It’s hard to imagine why, but we’re not allowed to get caught up in Charity’s world. The momentum of the show and its structure suffer as a result. It’s all fits and starts. Ultimately, the story’s bold end, when Charity’s romantic hopes come crashing down, is simply sour. Only Duff manages to inject any ambiguity, and the suggestion that Charity might pick herself up and be OK is too slim. With a piece notable for its cynicism, more bleak isn’t needed. It would be nice to be more charitable but this production isn’t sweet.

Until 8 June 2019

www.donmarwarehouse.com

Photo by Johan Persson

2019

“This Island’s Mine” at the King’s Head Theatre

Landmark is the label given to Philip Osment’s play, which premiered with the Gay Sweatshop in 1988. Undoubtedly, the piece makes for interesting history: early Pride marches, the role of the press in forming prejudice against AIDS and campaigns during the miners’ strike are all covered. It’s a play of valuable lessons. But theatre can’t just be a historical excursion. The key to the success of this first ever revival, by director Philip Wilson, is to allow the play to inspire today, by bringing out its universal power.

These tales of the city contain men and women of all ages and classes, going back and forth in time, with surprises in store as to how they interweave. Osment is an exemplary chronicler of London; locations are used effectively, rooting the play. For sure, too much is tackled at times, especially when bringing broader political struggles into the play. And some connections between the characters fit less well than others; a production of The Tempest forms one pivot but any aims of injecting anger with the rage of Caliban sit uneasily in a piece trying hard to be positive. Yet overwhelmingly, the rich themes of lives and loves, family and community, make for captivating stories.

Rachel Summers and Corey Montague-Sholay

The fictional biographies presented are respectfully delivered by Wilson and his cast. Connor Bannister, whose character’s coming out story is one focus, and Jane Bertish, taking the role of an elderly Jewish woman who fled World War II, give strong performances that form the backbone of the show. The rest of the cast all impress by taking on multiple roles, swooping ages, nationalities and genders, often with wit. There’s a lovely turn from Corey Montague-Sholey as a young actor and a ten year old boy, while Rachel Summers does well with four roles including an aged Russian aristocrat in exile. The show’s considerable humour is best served by Theo Fraser Steele who tackles the part of middle aged Martin with waspish panache.

Theo Frazer Steele and Connor Bannister

Osment’s text is marked by attention to detail. So much so that it’s occasionally overpowering, if often beautiful. That characters also narrate their own actions, interestingly a technique seen recently in The Inheritance, isn’t to all tastes – it can be long winded – but it proves a boon to performers here and Wilson adds some lovely theatrical touches that prevent the piece from becoming too static. And the play is remarkable democratic, even a cat gets attention, as gay life in many forms is celebrated. Race and sexuality, along with gay parenting and marriages of convenience are all addressed. Osment’s play reflects life’s complexity to an impressive degree, his opposition of fate to “patterns of coincidence” provokes thought and sentiment in equal measure. Admittedly meandering at times, This Island’s Mine has both tragedy and comedy to recognize and inspire an audience; the play’s success boils down to superb storytelling, excellently delivered.

Until 8 June 2019

www.kingsheadtheatre.com

Illustration by Curtis Holder, Photos by Mark Douet