Category Archives: 2015

“Teddy Ferrara” at the Donmar Warehouse

Contemporary American campus politics drive Christopher Shinn’s play, which sees the suicide of a gay student appropriated by college interest groups for their own ends. This university life is disorientating in its modernity and, for a serious, emotive topic, engenders a curiously cold work.

A crew of bland and earnest characters talk at, rather than to, one another. Debate infiltrates their personal lives, fuelled by self-obsession. Although the performances, strictly controlled by director Dominic Cooke, are fine, the cast struggles to leave impressions: the jock and his girlfriend, the guy in the wheelchair, the radical black professor – we get the point that diversity brings challenges. Shinn pokes fun rather than saying anything new.

Ryan McParland (Teddy) in Teddy Ferrara at the Donmar Warehouse - photo by Manuel Harlan
Ryan McParland

Luke Newbury, in the lead role of Gabe, who occasionally expresses contrary opinions, provides the most appealing character. And Ryan McParland is impressive as the awkward titular character, bullied and living out his fantasies online. But the only roles that really stimulate are the college president with bigger ambitions – a nice comic job for Matthew Marsh ­– and a “controlling” student journalist, played by Oliver Johnstone, who provides the majority of tension in the play.

While the plot of Teddy Ferrara is a touch predictable and the sexual politics presented too bluntly, the way people currently communicate is cleverly revealed: there’s a lot of broadcasting and not enough conversation. As Gabe says, “the texting never stops” and nor do political slogans or buzzwords – “micro-aggression” was a new one for me.

Oliver Johnstone (Drew) and Luke Newberry (Gabe) in Teddy Ferrara at the Donmar Warehouse - photo by Manuel Harlan
Oliver Johnstone and Luke Newberry

The dialogue consists of an uncomfortable, often amusing, mix of cliché and jargon, teen vlog and academic journal. This is particularly noticeable in scenes of romance – for a play so much about sexuality, Teddy Ferrara takes pains to be unerotic. Everything the characters say sounds familiar, whether through social media or web cams, the committee room or a speech, self-help books or pornography.
Christopher Imbrosciano (Jay), Griffyn Gilligan (Jaq), Oliver Johnstone (Drew) and Matthew Marsh (President) in Teddy Ferrara at the Donmar Warehouse - photo by Manuel Harlan
A memorial for Teddy, who none of the characters knew, leads to a clever conclusion. The remembrance silence, when everyone at last shuts up, makes for the most eloquent moment of the evening.

Until 5 December 2015

www.donmarwarehouse.com

Photos by Manuel Harlan

“Scarborough” at the Courtyard Theatre

A schoolteacher and a pupil in a hotel room for a dirty weekend: that is the simple scenario for Fiona Evans’ play. As well as getting extra marks for addressing a depressingly topical subject, Evans’ writing can be praised for an intelligent handling of the subject. And it has a nice twist – after we see a female teacher with a schoolboy, the roles are reversed and we see a young girl as the victim.

Despite the play’s brevity, the characters are complex and we don’t automatically see these children as victims – occasionally they seem more mature than the adults taking advantage of them. There could be more tension; that the teachers are putting their “life on the line” isn’t the focus – sex is, and the intimacy is creepily convincing. With the script repeated almost exactly, it’s a great game of spot the difference: which brings one hesitation – steering so clear of sensationalism is an achievement, but you don’t feel as uncomfortable with this topic as is really appropriate.

While the premise might seem just too neat a trick, there’s no doubt Scarborough is an effective showcase for the talents of young company Fictive Theatre. Taking to the stage are Charlie Tantam and Ava Pickett, superb as they change characters after the interval. They make the repetition riveting. And I have to praise their professionalism at working through a klaxon-like ringtone during the show – they didn’t skip a beat while I thought we were under attack. Pickett’s transformation is the most noticeable: from harassed PE teacher into precocious schoolgirl, and she adds an unsettling injection of humour. Director Simon Paris deals with staging the show in the round impeccably and there are some brave pauses that show a real confidence in the material. It’s great to have a new team to watch out for.

8 & 9 October 2015

www.thecourtyard.org.uk

Photo by Greg Goodale

“Barbarians” at the former Central Saint Martins College

The Tooting Arts Club, a company that revels in having no permanent home, had enormous success last year with its staging of Sweeney Todd, first in a pie-and-mash shop and then next door to the Queen’s Theatre. Back in town, with Bill Buckhurst’s accomplished revival of Barrie Keeffe’s trilogy of short plays, it has now taken over a former art school. It’s fair to say that the work – dealing with youth unemployment, football hooliganism and racial violence – hits harder than most West End fare.

Following Paul, Jan and Louis as they dabble in petty crime, before finding factory jobs and then going their separate ways, is pretty depressing. Keeffe injects a lot of humour, which the performers respond to eagerly, but the frustration and fear that fill their adolescence doesn’t make for comfortable viewing. The plays may be 40 years old but, apart from some fun with a themed bar, they are sadly still relevant. These three may seem a little more naïve than teenagers today, but they’re probably just less well connected – the absence of mobile phones is noticeable.

Killing Time is the first one-act play. We get to know the boys in a relatively light-hearted way as they make trouble while on the dole. There’s a great use of the space as they sit with the audience and scamper around tables, along with some extremely offensive language. Josh Williams’ Louis engenders most sympathy. Having completed a course, he may be an expert on refrigeration, but he can master little else. Abide With Me is set outside the FA cup final, as the trio wait for tickets, predictably let down by an adult in their lives. Their search for belonging is palpable, whether as military cadets or football fans: “the best army there is,” says Thomas Coombes’ Paul in a performance that brims with aggression.

For the finale, In The City, we’ve moved from Lewisham, via Wembley to the Notting Hill Carnival. The boys are older, although I hesitate to use the word grown up. Jan (Jake Davies) has become a soldier, whose terror at his imminent departure to Northern Ireland informs an impressive monologue. A chance encounter with Louis results in a senseless and disturbing attack – the threat of violence hangs over all three plays, and when it arrives it shocks to the core. There’s a lot to praise about Barbarians, not least three excellent performances, but this powerful and insightful show comes with a warning.

Until 7 November 2015

www.sohotheatre.com

Photo by Cesare De Giglio

“Medea” at the Almeida Theatre

We all know Medea’s biography – a sorceress who kills her kids when her husband leaves her – but it might help also to know more about the writer of the Almeida’s new version, Rachel Cusk. The prize-winning author of controversial novels about motherhood and marital breakdown has created a fiercely modern adaptation – the most radical of the theatre’s acclaimed Greek season.

Euripides’ play is a starting point (an altered conclusion tells us that much), inviting us to examine the topic of women and injustice. Cusk’s Medea is a writer, a magician with words, whose talent provides her chance for revenge. But the odds are against our heroine, as made clear by her former husband Jason (Justin Salinger) and Andy de la Tour as Creon, father of the younger woman she’s been deserted for.

Other women don’t help either. Amanda Boxer plays her mother, full of insulting criticism, while Michele Austin, as Medea’s cleaner, is relentlessly negative. The chorus consists of yummy mummies, obsessed with their husbands’ careers and trivial gossip. It’s close to the bone in Islington, an easy target, and I didn’t find them all that convincing. It can’t be that bad at the school gates, can it?

The arrival of a messenger from the gods is incongruous. Presented as both male and female, it’s an idea not even the excellent Charlotte Randle in the role can make effective, and a stumble in Rupert Goold’s sure-footed direction. But at least the messenger provides a welcome break by speaking in verse. Cusk’s theatrical dialogue is unusual. There are few conversations here: Medea talks to her friend Aegeus (Richard Cant) striking a deal over revenge, but she confronts Jason over the phone, while others just lecture her and the chorus’ conversations are deliberately one sided. The play has people pontificating rather than communicating and, at times, is tiring.

Kate Fleetwood in the title role is really the highlight of the show. Her Medea is truly scary – when she picks up a knife, the air crackles – but she is even better when controlling that tension. Forcefully intelligent, which adds credibility, her revenge will be… different. Best of all is Fleetwood’s ability to convey the physical pain of the character, clutching her stomach and clenching her hands. At its most effective, this is a close-up portrayal of rejection, masterfully conveyed.

Until 14 November 2015

www.almeida.co.uk

Photo by Paul Thompson

“Hangmen” at the Royal Court

Taking capital punishment as a subject makes sense for a writer as darkly comic as Martin McDonagh. The story of the second-best hangman in England, set on the day the death penalty is abolished, makes a superb vehicle for David Morrissey in the lead. Having just confirmed its transfer into the West End, it’s already a hit.

There are a very respectable number of laughs, with lots of period detail. Hangman Harry, now a Northern publican, makes an effective mouthpiece for a variety of sexist and racist views. His objection to the guillotine? “It’s messy and French.” Morrissey is brilliant at bullish and brings a nasty, sharp edge to this unlikeable character. Harry’s customer-cum-cronies in his bar are good value as well and nicely performed. The only issue is that perhaps it isn’t very original.

Sally Rogers (Alice) and Bronwyn James (Shirley) in Hangmen by Martin McDonagh directed by Matthew Dunster Credit Simon Annand.jpg
Sally Rogers and Bronwyn James

The tension in Hangmen is more taut than the comedy. A mysterious stranger, played with offbeat menace by Johnny Flynn, brings suspense. And Reece Shearsmith, as Harry’s former colleague, gives a fine performance as an unwitting and inept conspirator. There are also fine turns from Harry’s wife and their “mopey” daughter, Sally Rogers and Bronwyn James, respectively. Their dialogue is impeccable and hugely impressive.

Towards the end, the show really takes off. The more dangerous things get, the funnier they become. Harry’s megalomania erupts in outlandish fashion and the plot twists in a pleasantly unpredictable manner. Briefly interrupted by the arrival of his nemesis, the more famous executioner Albert Pierrepoint, played expertly by John Hodgkinson, the scene is excruciating funny – this is the stuff. Maybe it’s greedy to expect it to be this good all the way through?

Until 10 October 2015 and then at Wyndham’s Theatre from the 1 December – 5 March 2016

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photos by Simon Annand

“Beautiful” at the Aldwych Theatre

Advice about writing reviews includes avoiding overused adjectives. Top of the list is hilarious… beautiful comes next. So, it’s a bad sign when a show has such an inane moniker. There are joyous moments in this biography of singer-songwriter Carole King – her back catalogue ensures that – but they are few and far between, leaving me mystified as to the show’s acclaim. Maybe the aim was to be beautifully simple – instead it is simply boring.

The cast of Beautiful performs well. The four leads sound great, especially Katie Brayben as King and Alan Morrissey, who plays her husband and lyricist Gerry Goffin. The ensemble takes on cameos of the stars and bands that performed King and Goffin hits with a good deal of spirit. The problem is with the book. Douglas McGrath pays only lip service to the changing times of the Sixties, while King’s life story is ticked off like a list.

Precocious teenager Carol writes a hit song. Meets a boy and writes some more hit songs. Breaks up with the boy and writes her best stuff yet. There just isn’t enough going on. Another song-writing couple, Cynthia Weil and Barry Mann, joins in, and McGrath makes their similarly humdrum story not just a foil but a focus. Lorna Want and Ian McIntosh, as the more spirited and humorous Weil and Mann, end up more appealing than the show’s real subjects.

The hit factory at 1650 Broadway that they all work in is the setting, under the management of Donnie Kirshner (Gary Trainor does well with this thinly-written role). The atmosphere is strangely amiable, maybe writing just wasn’t a struggle for King – I can believe it given her talent – but it turns the show into more of a CV than a story. Goffin’s adultery and nervous breakdown are downbeat: King didn’t have a nice marriage, then she got a haircut and everything was OK.

Performances of the songs by anyone else aren’t allowed to outshine King’s so they are presented, if not performed, as frigid relics – a problem since they make up most of the show. Which means Beautiful doesn’t even work as a jukebox musical. When we get to King’s success, someway into the second act, the story of Tapestry, her Grammy award-winning album, feels truncated. Any idea of her growing into a performer or her life feeding into her art, have no time to develop. Her achievements in this telling aren’t worth waiting for, which is as bad as a biography can get.

Photo by Brinkhoff Moegenburg

www.beautifulmusical.co.uk

“Pomona” at the National Theatre

Alistair McDowall’s loopy, plot-fuelled drama is structured like a Mobius strip, as we join a frightening search for a missing girl in a dystopian Manchester. Propelled by an HP Lovecraft role-playing game, which the characters all join and where it’s never clear who is in charge, what might have been confusing keeps you intrigued throughout.

The people of the sinister urban wasteland of Pomona fascinate as they search for obliteration in a variety of nasty ways. The cast is superb, including Nadia Clifford’s Ollie, looking for her sister, along with Sam Swann and Sean Rigby as two security guards getting deep into trouble. Rochenda Sandall plays a frightening brothel madam and Rebecca Humphries is outstanding in the most fully formed role of Fay. Presiding over all are Guy Rhys as Moe – a commanding presence despite his claim to be “neutral”, which is saying something since he spends the entire play in his underpants – and Sarah Middleton’s spooky Keaton, a part urban myth, part autistic anime character.

The idea is simple… deep down. A mesh of genres, including thriller and sci-fi, is skilfully woven with plenty of conspiracy theories to examine society’s complicity with moral injustice. Do we ask or ignore awkward questions? The play is a moral maze in more ways than one. I guess there had to be a dose of determinism as well, nicely embodied with gaming dice. Along with all the tension and supernatural overtones Pomona is plenty cryptic and could be frustrating, but instead it’s thoroughly entertaining.

Director Ned Bennett’s skill in bringing this often downright peculiar vision to the stage is remarkable. With a fraught atmosphere he avoids pretentiousness by bringing out the humour in the script and emphasising action. Above all, it’s a game that will keep you guessing. Short, sharp scenes along with creepy touches (much credit to designer Georgia Lowe) can be described as a nightmare that is a puzzle to you upon waking. And puzzles, after all, are great fun.

Until 10 October 2015

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Richard Davenport

“Mr Foote’s Other Leg” at Hampstead Theatre

Biographer Ian Kelly has literally written the book on Samuel Foote, one of the 18th century’s most celebrated performers, and his expertise shines out in this new play. You’d be in real trouble if you couldn’t find the humour in a comic called Foote, but no fears here, as the jokes come alarmingly fast and varied: Shakespearian in-gags, bawdy banter and downright silliness. It’s an absolute treat for anyone with a love of the theatre.

Simon Russell Beale, Dervla Kirwan and Joseph Millson
Simon Russell Beale, Dervla Kirwan and Joseph Millson

Indeed, the theatre forms the backbone of the play – scenes are either front or back stage or in a medical lecture hall – all skilfully handled by director Richard Eyre, with Tim Hatley’s design cramming in the atmosphere. David Garrick and Peg Woffington, superbly rendered by Joseph Millson and Dervla Kirwan, are here, as is a long-suffering stage manager, Mrs Garner (a terrific role for Jenny Galloway). Comradeship and rivalry are exquisitely depicted, including in an unmawkish three-in-a-bed-death scene.

When it comes to biography, the play is as brilliant as its subject. Simon Russell Beale takes the lead, giving a dynamic performance that’s at first understated, comes alive whenever Foote is ‘on stage’, then becomes deeply moving when his sense of mischief grows dangerous as his mental health deteriorates.

 Forbes Masson as John Hunter at work with Colin Stinton as Benjamin Franklin taking notes
Forbes Masson as John Hunter at work on Mr Foote’s leg, with Colin Stinton as Benjamin Franklin taking notes

More than the history of an actor, or acting, this play is the portrait of an age. The distinguished surgeon John Hunter amputates Foote’s leg (ruined by a riding accident), while Benjamin Franklin lectures us on science. Prince George dabbles with performance and ascends to the throne (Kelly takes the role, reminding us his talents aren’t just literary). There’s American Independence and insanity as well – the madness of Mr Foote dominates the second act, ruining the pluckiest of comebacks.

Enthralled by the spirit of the times, Kelly isn’t shy of manipulating history for effect. Hence, he appropriates Dr Johnson’s servant, Frank Barber, to be Foote’s dresser, giving us a fine performance from Micah Balfour and a sub text that serves to illustrate Foote’s liberal iconoclasm. Like everything in the play, scenes with the two of them work astonishingly hard.

Care has to be taken when filling a play with such a quantity of ideas and events, yet here all is enrichment and nothing extraneous. Foote hates cant, declaring it the one word in English that is untranslatable. By avoiding cant, Kelly makes his play as fresh as it is erudite, a balance that makes this a triumph of and about the theatre.

Until 17 October 2015

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photos by Nobby Clark

The Ever HopeFull Rep Season

A pop-up theatre in the heart of the city, the rather swanky 6 Frederick’s Place has been commandeered by the So And So Arts Club for an ambitious repertory season of new plays. Established by actress, director and producer Sarah Berger, its membership of industry professionals aims to create its own paid work (much produced on the fringe fails to pay), and it’s a valiant effort deserving support.

If the play I saw is anything to go by, So And So is a club to keep an eye on. American Venus, by Leslie Mildiner and directed by Berger, gives a glimpse into the life of silent film star Louise Brooks. It’s an excellent vehicle for the acting talents of the superb Susan Penhaligon. Much is made of the aged Brooks sex-obsessed foul-mouthed selfishness, she would “make a saint spit”, but there’s clear potential to expand this hour-long play. The stories of those around her are interesting, especially her primary carer, Phyllis, performed commendably by Mary Keegan. And her early life, with snapshots performed by Angharad George-Carey as a young Louise and Tim Walton as Charlie Chaplin, who are both captivating, leaves you wanting more.

There are three more plays this season, written by Claire Whitehead, Shelley Silas and Brian Parks, and a musical from Stephanie Smith and Monica Sik Holm – so plenty of talent to spot. Next up is an international festival (the club has members in nine countries), Women And War, from 25 October to the 7 November. Follow them on twitter @soandsoartsclub or, if you are in the business, get in touch to see what you can do for each other.

Until 27 September 2015

www.thesoandsoartsclub.co.uk

Photo by John Swannell

“People, Places & Things” at the National Theatre

This play should come with a health warning: following the journey of a drink and drug addict is never going to be easy viewing. Headlong’s new co-production at the Dorfman Theatre is hard work, but it is testament to Duncan Macmillan’s script and an astonishing performance by Denise Gough that the play can be described as unmissable. Gough should clear the mantelpiece for awards – standing ovations are rare at the National Theatre and I can’t remember joining one at a matinee performance.
Jpeg 16Playing Emma is a punishing lead role and Gough delivers a raw performance that engenders anger, frustration and occasionally repulses. To add to the trauma, Emma is an actress and Macmillan uses performance, indeed the process of staging a play, as a parallel to her counselling sessions. As Emma joins a group, sitting in a circle, introductions are made, just like at the start of rehearsals, and then role-play undertaken. It feels dangerously close to the bone.

Particulars of the addicts’ stories are brief – Emma’s is obfuscated by compulsive lying – so we don’t get to the bottom of why they are in such trouble. It’s not misery that’s dissected here but recovery, with tension and a healthy amount of scepticism. No one has more reservations about her 12-step treatment than our articulate protagonist. But burning through an agenda of denial, which serves to intelligently explore AA, comes the simple desire to survive.

Carefully directed by Jeremy Herrin, the staging is particularly effective when it comes to Emma’s hallucinations, which are downright spooky. Overall, Bunny Christie’s set feels too flashy and polished – the play simply doesn’t need it. And though there are jokes and nervous laughter from the audience, I confess my sense of humour deserted me, as what was going on was overwhelmingly bleak and serious.

Macmillan doesn’t hold back; the selfishness of the addict is emphatically depicted. A final scene with Emma’s parents is particularly painful (Barbara Marten gets to play her third role of the show and is excellent in each) after observing what Emma has been through. Here’s the second side to that health warning: I don’t know if Macmillan had a didactic motivation, but I feel I learned a lot about what an addict must go through, and feel humbled as a result.

Until 4 November 2015

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Johan Persson