Category Archives: 2018

2018

“Company” at the Gielgud Theatre

Marianne Elliott’s new production of Stephen Sondheim’s musical gained great press when it was announced that the gender of the lead would be swapped. Bobby, the still-single thirty-something, pressured and puzzled by commitment, becomes Bobbie. The change adds an urgency to debates about marriage that the show explores, adding the pressure some women feel to have children. But the joyous surprise is how remarkably easy the alteration feels. If you didn’t know the piece you wouldn’t guess at any fuss. A frequent argument in theatre is resolved conclusively. And that’s just the start of this show’s many virtues.

Rosalie Craig, Alex Gaumond and Jonathan Bailey
Rosalie Craig, Alex Gaumond and Jonathan Bailey

Rosalie Craig is in the spotlight and she is brilliant. Even though she’s barely off the stage, and everyone is talking about her character, Bobbie has to take a back seat as her friends’ marriages are examined through fantastic songs. Craig achieves this with, well, grace – I can’t think of a better word. Throughout the show, and even when it comes to her big numbers, Craig brings a coolness to the role that ensures her character’s questioning is communicated. Frequently looking to the audience, exclaiming ‘Wow’ more than once, she shares the oddities she sees with us. It’s a perfect reflection of Sondheim exploring friendship and love with complexity and openness.

Patti LuPone in Company
Patti LuPone

 It’s another achievement on Elliott’s part that a star as big as LuPone fits the show so well. There’s a Broadway feel to the production that’s appropriate to the story’s location, but which surely has an eye on a transfer – it deserves one. If there’s a tiny cavil, the pace occasionally feels driven by a desire to display value for money – even if every minute is enjoyable, a couple ofscenes are drawn out. But Company is as close to flawless as anyone should care about. Bunny Christie’s design is stunning– this is a set that actually gets laughs. Rooms, outlined in neon, connect characters in the manner of a farce, while playing with scale gets more giggles. Elliott employs an Alice InWonderland motif that is no laughing matter.

With the couples watched, there isn’t a poor performance. Mel Geidroyc and Gavin Spokes are great fun as the squabbling Sarah and Harry – will karate help their relationship? While Jonathan Bailey gives a show-stopping turn as Jamie, in a panic on his wedding day. Previously Amy, his relationship with Paul (played by Alex Gaumond) is a delicious modernisation. But the biggest casting coup? The legendary Patti LuPone takes the part of the acerbic Joanne and is simply unmissable. Every line from LuPone lands. Every gesture captures the audience. And her rendition of TheLadies Who Lunch is revelatory – to make a song like that your own takes real class.

 It’s another achievement on Elliott’spart that a star as big as LuPone fits the show so well. There’s a Broadway feel to the production that’s appropriate to the story’s location, but which surely has an eye on a transfer – it deserves one. If there’s a tiny cavil, the pace occasionally feels driven by a desire to display value for money – even if every minute is enjoyable, a couple ofscenes are drawn out. But Company is as close to flawless as anyone should care about. Bunny Christie’s design is stunning– this is a set that actually gets laughs. Rooms, outlined in neon, connect characters in the manner of a farce, while playing with scale gets more giggles. Elliott employs an Alice InWonderland motif that is no laughing matter.

It isn’t just Bobbie’s gender that has changed – she is now a Millennial. There’s no crude casting as a snowflake, but one wonders if she might be infantilised? There are party games at her 35th birthday, after all. Elliott makes a point about life – now – that is subtle and topical. Credit to Sondheim’s piece, of course, so full of themes ripe for development. But it is the production that makes it hard to believe the piece is nearly 50 years old – Bobbie and her crowd always feel contemporary. For all the joys of the show, it is seeing a director use a piece with such skill and invention that makes this Elliott’s triumph.

Until 30 March 2019

www.companymusical.co.uk

Photos by Brinkhoff Mogenburg

2018

“Love-Lies-Bleeding” at the Print Room

While Don DeLillo’s status as a Great American Novelist, with all those capital letters, is seldom questioned, his work as a playwright is less well known. If this turgid effort, receiving a UK premiere, is anything to go by, that might be best for the great man’s reputation.

The scenario is thin from the start and not developed – a great artist being euthanised by his family after a stroke reduces him to a persistent vegetative state. It’s an important subject, increasingly urgent in our society, but DeLillo adds nothing to the debate. Instead we get recollections of marriage and art that may be of interest, but only if you happen to be an East Coast intellectual. Both niche and unenlightening, it ends up boring.

Clara Indrani and Jack Wilkinson

The characters are well acted but too solipsistic to care about. The charisma needed for the lead comes entirely from Joe McGann’s performance. It’s too hard to credit that others are “clustered” around to support his character’s passing. Josie Lawrence is always watchable as his ex-wife and even manages to inject some humour. Jack Wilkinson takes the part of the son, Sean, and he deals with slowly revealed mixed motives and anger well. But nothing can save incredulity when it comes to the fumbled efforts with morphine; surely you’d read your Google printouts before overdosing your father? The current wife and carer, played admirably by Clara Indrani, has the only part with real emotion. But her role is hampered by some new age sentiment that needs further explication to stop it being nonsensical. When she requests, “Let’s not analyse”, she seems to be in the wrong play.

And these guys talk. Convoluted sentences make up a dense and unbelievable dialogue that ends up a drone. Even at 90 minutes it’s clear some editing is needed, as is energy – director Jack McNamara seems overawed by DeLillo’s text. An effort is made with an expensive set from Lily Arnold – there’s some movement at least – but static scenes drag despite their brevity. Worst of all, nearly every line, no matter how unoriginal or even silly, is presented as profound. It’s an approach that kills the script and hampers the performers. The script is bludgeoned, the performances strangled and the play ends up dead.

Until 8 December 2018

www.the-print-room.org

Photos by Tristram Kenton

2018

“The Height of the Storm”at Wyndham’s Theatre

The new hit from French playwright Florian Zeller, translated as usual by Christopher Hampton, treads familiar ground. It intelligently manipulates audience expectations and is expertly theatrical– to his credit, you can’t imagine Zeller’s work in any other medium. As with hisprevious play, The Father, dementia and the impact on a family of that awful disease are the subject matter. But the love story of a devoted couple, André and Madeleine, one of whom dies, means The Height of the Storm can mine the  depths of even more emotion.

Zeller’s writing seems a gift to directors, and Jonathan Kent’s work here is faultless and attractive to performers. Amanda Drew and Anna Madeley play the daughters of the piece impeccably, never overstating their characters’ differences. And there are two strong performances from James Hillier and Lucy Cohu as strangers who flit between supporting and threatening the family. But the play belongs to André and Madeleine, played by Jonathan Pryce and Eileen Atkins – two masterclasses not to be missed. Pryce gives a tender performance detailing the fears of old age, while Atkins magnificently develops her role’s carefully revealed depths. Together their devotion as a couple is utterly convincing and incredibly moving.

While set in Zeller’s typically sophisticated milieu (André is a man of letters and Anthony Ward’s design of his house is retro-boho-chic), the rawness of grief removes us from the urbane characters that can sometimes feel foreign in his plays. The twist is a painful one – we don’t really know whether it’s André or Madeleine who has died. The confusion isn’t just because of André’s dementia. When the couple talk to one another it isn’t clear if the scene is a flashback or a grief-stricken fantasy, and they both refer to the other dying. So, Zeller presents us with both scenarios and the awful question of what would be ‘best’ arises – for you or your partner to die first? And which of your parents could cope best on their own?

Some may find Zeller’s approach opaque, but his skill at crafting the confusion is brilliant. The Height of the Storm opens up a debate about the end of our lives that is urgent and, in privileging the perspective of the elderly, an important contribution. We are taken to the heart of the drama and the issue at the same time and asked to confront both in a personal fashion. The finale emphasises the couple’s love. It reminds us of their agency as well as what is at stake. And, if you haven’t been crying already, you will be by the end.

Until 1 December 2018

www.theheightofthestorm.com

Photos by Hugo Glendinning

2018

“Tobacco Road” at the Pleasance Theatre

Part of the Caledonian Express season that brings highlights of the Edinburgh Festival to London, Incognito Theatre’s tale of London gangs in the 1920s is hugely entertaining.

It’s a story of self-proclaimed “scum” in South London rising up the ladder of the criminal underworld. The piece is devised by the company and careful preparation has resulted in characters all successfully delineated. There’s a touch of the committee about the plot, which is sometimes predictable, but it is always engaging. The biggest twist is to include two women, Freda and Elsie, admirably performed by Atlanta Hayward and Jennie Eggleton, whose reputation for violence is never questioned. Joining forces with a trio of friends, Alfie and Tommy, driven by the ambitious Felix, they make a formidable five. In the male roles, Angus Castle-Doughty, Alex Maxwell and George John work exceptionally well together. An interesting undercurrent between them all is the aftermath of the First World War, ripe for further exploration.

The dialogue is occasionally clunky, a lot of historical background is added clumsily. But the physicality that the company brings to the stage makes up for any shortcomings; these crooks start out slap stick and become menacingly slick. Aided by Roberta Zuric’s direction, and choreographer Zak Nemorin,with only tea chests and a rope for props, the show is atmospheric and exciting. Castle-Doughty is particularly strong in a boxing scene; indeed several fight scenes are handled well by all. As the gang’s success brings on drunken reveling, it is the performers’ skill with movement that conveys a sense of hedonistic escape carrying danger with it.

The ending is not satisfying. It’s clear the gang is trapped in their lifestyle, which makes a morality tale of sorts, but the conclusion arrives too abruptly; cliff-hangers seldom work well in theatre. When the houselights come up, it’s a shock and a shame. But ending the story too soon goes to show how engrossing Tobacco Road is – addictive and well performed, go see.

Until 17 November 2018

www.pleasance.co.uk

Photo by Tim Hall

2018

“A Very Very Very Dark Matter” at the Bridge Theatre

This world premiere from playwright Martin McDonagh marks the first year of Nicholas Hytner’s new home on the Southbank. McDonagh appeals too many, writing in a tradition the programme labels “Irish Gothic”, yet with an approachable modern tone that gives him a distinctive (and much imitated) voice. Here, fairytales are the material, a clever move as they share a sense of the macabre that is McDonagh’s forte. He proposes that Hans Christian Anderson’s stories were actually written by a time-travelling pygmy imprisoned in his attic who plans to save the Congo from Belgian colonialism… Not everyone could get away with that pitch.

The scenario is rich in oddity but poorly developed. Still, it’s clear that director Matthew Dunster is convinced, taking a reverent approach to the script that results in slow moments despite the short running time of 90 minutes. And the cast look as if they’re having a great time with McDonagh’s irreverence. Anderson’s stupidity and ignorance results in a flouting of political correctness only a psychopath can get away with and Jim Broadbent, who takes the role, makes the most of every joke. His fellow lead, playing the real writer, Ogechi, is a more interesting part. In this role Johnetta Eula’Mae Ackles is occasionally too focused on delivering her punchlines. Surely the atrocities of slavery should make the play moving as well as dark? Ackles excels, though, on the play’s ruminations about stories and writings of many kinds. As you might expect, McDonagh provides insight here.

Jim Broadbent

A Very Very Very Dark Matter is funny. As for the style of humour, nobody can complain about trades descriptions. But along with tackling the grotesque and his ability to make you squirm, McDonagh does rely on expletives. It works, and the laughter is deafening, especially when children are swearing, while Phil Daniels and Elizabeth Berrington, as a foul-mouthed Mr and Mrs Charles Dickens, put in good turns. But these jokes might strike you as easy. Especially when McDonagh can clearly do so much more: language difficulties between the British author and the Danish Anderson are much more inventive.

McDonagh takes on contemporary concerns about the canon and commemoration: cultural giants and statues of King Leopold of Belgium. But debate isn’t added to, so the inclusion of such history ends up puzzling. Humour is the selling point – arguably this can be an effective way of questioning the past and its narratives. But the play’s downfall is that is contains so little drama – unlike McDonagh’s other work there’s a lack of tension. Maybe the story is just too silly? Or too self-referential – pointing out the writing’s structure, to purposely deflate it. There’s never an edge-of-seat moment and, knowing how well McDonagh can write, this becomes frustrating.

Until 6 January 2019

www.bridgetheatre.co.uk

Photos by Manuel Harlan

2018

“Don Carlos” at the Rose Theatre Kingston

Friedrich Schiller’s late-18th-century work is a play that has it all, with tons of plot – intrigue at the court of Philip II of Spain (so great for history buffs) – and a romance, too. The Infante Carlos’s love for his former fiancée, now step-mother, leads to scenes with papa Phil that would delight any Freudian. Big politics and Greek-style family drama… it really is two for the price of one.

Samuel Valentine takes the title role, cutting a dashing figure, but also showing the pressurised heir as increasingly fragile. The reigning monarch Darrell D’Silva has a great time striding the edges of a moral and political “abyss”. He does ham it up, but he plays the most powerful man in the world at that time and, if you have a claxon to summon people, it must be hard not to use it. Sympathy for a tyrant isn’t easy, but D’Silva has the skill to make us consider Philip’s deep loneliness. Completing the love triangle is Kelly Gough as Elizabeth of Valois. A figure of “angelic condescension” but also an ambition-fuelled queen, Gough plays with both extremes expertly.

Kelly Gough

On top of roles a good deal wordier than usually encountered, the performers aren’t aided by Gadi Roll’s strict direction. Reflecting the formality of the Spanish court by so often restricting movement is an intelligent instruction that makes you admire the actors even more. Added to that, the speed of delivery here is astonishing, with never a tongue tied. It makes you breathless to hear this play. The impression left at the interval is of clarity but sterility, a dynamic that comes close to totally flipping soon afterwards. The staging is stark, with Rosanna Vize’s design all about Jonathan Samuels’ lighting. Props are minimal and lights moved around – ironically the play is often too atmospherically dark. But Roll ensures this is a gripping story. And there’s still more – this is a play of ideas: leadership, freedom and friendship, all with a Romantic air. 

Embodying many abstract concepts is Tom Burke as the Marquis of Posa, a role that makes the play really special. A plotter in it for the long run, Posa describes himself as “a citizen of times to come”. The role at once parades Schiller’s hindsight and futureproofs the play. Weighty themes of revolution are made urgent and philosophical. The ideas are fascinating, the character too – with a mix of unbelievable devotion and prescience that Burke manages to make credible and human. He also sounds, well, fantastic.

Blood and thoughts are “wild” in Don Carlos– streaming from a conflict with duty and from a time when youth and ideas are about to change the world. The production might struggle with the passion, too tamed at times and then unleashed too quickly, but the complexity of both the drama and the argument are given their due.

Until 17 November 2018

www.rosetheatrekingston.org

Photos by The Other Richard

2018

“Mirabel” at the Oval House Theatre

This cerebral piece, simply billed as a story told by Chris Goode, is adventurous, exciting and, ultimately, puzzling. It’s a show that uses theatrical conventions expertly and proves to be entertaining. But it is so deliberately destabilising that it’s hard to take away much – avoid it if fables frustrate you.

We start settling down to a something close to a fairy tale, though always for adults. It’s the end of the world and Mirabel is alone… apart from her talking teddy bear. In search of adults, she assembles a gang that includes ghosts and a rock as we journey through an apocalyptic landscape.

All this is beautifully written by Goode, who plays with many a sci-fi trope in his narrative. Simple sentences present complex imagery and are startlingly original, with plenty of humour, too. It’s a long monologue, but Goode’s skills as a performer are excellent and he holds an audience well. Aided by director Rebecca McCutcheon, a set comprising hidden depths by Naomi Dawson, and great lighting design from Lee Curran, Mirabel is wonderfully staged. A section of animation from Lou Sumray is stand-alone strong.

As evocative as the story is – and considering its bizarre touches, that’s a big achievement – judging its effectiveness surely requires the play to have clearer aims. This can’t be an exercise in seeing the world through the eyes of a child as, fantasy aside, Mirabel isn’t believable. Political concerns, such as the environment or consumerism, are oblique (they’re bound to be if you bring in UFOs). Is it an allegory? Maybe: the depths of Mirabel’s loneliness are painfully detailed and her growth during the play gives us plenty to ponder. Yet what the script describes as a coda, a bravura spoken-word section, suggests that pinning his work down wouldn’t please Goode. An explanation for the story is offered, then withdrawn, as chaos encroaches to unpleasant effect.

The world of Mirabel that we are allowed access to is well worth visiting. If you like travel for its own sake, then this is a first-class voyage. I am just not quite sure if the trip has any larger point.

Until 17 November 2018

www.ovalhouse.com

Photo by The Other Richard

2018

“Billy Bishop Goes to War” at the Jermyn Street Theatre

This low-key play from John MacLachlan Gray and Eric Peterson tells the true story of a Canadian WWI pilot and makes for a surprisingly gentle commemoration in the Great War’s anniversary year. Our hero, Billy, is pleasingly unusual: an unwilling recruit, accident-prone yet “gifted” and achieving a record “score” for kills. For most of the play, he is shockingly callow. It’s really Charles Aitken’s commandingly affable performance throughout that makes him watchable. Aitken grafts like a real trooper and carries a heavy burden. From caddish bounder to troubled boozer (and doubling as a couple of female parts along with way), he forces energy into a flat script again and again.

Oliver Beamish joins as an older Billy. Director Jimmy Walters allies the roles well, with solid work throughout, but the Billy who looks back at his youth is wasted and simply wallows in nostalgia. It’s with a small number of cameos that Beamish can come into his own, injecting, possibly too much, humour into the story. The japes around Billy’s scrapes go on too long and are repetitive, with weak jokes. The rest of the time Beamish accompanies on the piano – this is a play with music – but sadly the refrains are poor and the lyrics awful.

The play doesn’t get serious until after the interval – fair enough – maybe that was Billy’s personal experience. But then we get more music… and it doesn’t improve in quality. Walters highlights the play’s most interesting features – the role of Britain’s colonies in the war and the idea that the motherland likes its heroes dead – but the play itself doesn’t explore either enough. Worse still, Bishop’s “bloodthirsty” battle lust, so honestly admitted, is left unexamined. The drama and the horror of war are insufficiently evoked. In one sense, this is a useful corrective aside from the more prevalent glory-or-guts narratives of conflict. But the thrill of the kill should lead to a chill in the theatre that is conspicuous by its absence.

Until 24 November 2018

www.jermynstreettheatre.co.uk 

Photo by Robert Workman

2018

“One Write Stand” by the Front of House Theatre Company

Those who serve at the National Theatre have created a chance to reveal their other talents with their own company that shows us what they really want to do. Along with several productions under their belt, a night of new writing is becoming an annual event. There’s undoubtedly a friends and family feel – it’s a bit like gate crashing a good party – and an atmosphere this supportive has a special attraction.

The first half of the evening presents three short plays that struggle with their time slots. Gavin J Innes does best with his two-hander, a scenario of a drugs test for an athlete, which works well as a sketch. The next two efforts, Solicitation Games by Carl Blades and Selfhood by Aaron Gordon, take on bigger subjects – sex and race – and have lots of ideas but fall down when they introduce third characters, despite the valiant efforts of the performers.

Innes also directs his play. Along with Neil Gordon and Elliott Bornemann, who take charge of the other two, there is a common flaw here (easily corrected). Each play is just a little too slow: laughs laboured, drama drawn out, so problems in the scripts are elaborated rather than eased over. And it should be noted that quieter performances often have more impact: Omar Austin does well as the ‘Zen’-like character caught between two feuding sisters in Selfhood.

Omar Austin in Selfhood

On to the second half. Michael Ross’s Brutalism, set in a high-rise block and concerning gentrification, shows writing of the highest quality. Not a line is wasted, and the lead, Amy Beckett, knows it –she has great fun with the comedy in her role as a social worker-turned-propertydeveloper. It’s a delicious conceit that makes you want more. The twist is a surreal one that could have real bite. But it arrives too quickly, leaving the feeling of a fuller play truncated and puzzling. To end the evening on a real high is I Heart Mary by Emma Bentley. Director Courtney Larkin is full of ideas, while a trio of performers – Mauricia Lewis, Olivia Seaton-Hill and Tricia Wey – is boosted by the crowd. The trick is simple: this a sketch about working in the customer service industry. Plenty of jokes ring true and hit home, while the frustrations are depicted sincerely and the piece doesn’t patronise. Preaching to the choir maybe, but it’s contagiously effective.

4 November 2018

www.fohtheatrecompany.com

Photos by Alex Grey

2018

“ear for eye” at the Royal Court

What debbie tucker green’s new piece about racism lacks in conventional dramatic terms, it makes up for with intricate, challenging argument. The didacticism here may deter some, although nobody could mistake its passion. It’s a useful skill – and an achievement to write with such heartfelt conviction and remain so satisfyingly articulate.

It helps to be prepared for ear for eye. The event is in three parts, followed by a brief and haunting epilogue. The opening design has art gallery written all over it, with Merle Hensel’s set reminiscent of Antony Gormley’s Blind Light. But don’t worry, as things become clearer. The direction, also by tucker green, is disingenuously sparse, with a rehearsal room vibe – there’s work to be done and this is a team up to the job.

First up is a collection of short scenes: tales of violence and protest that provide some brilliant monologues for Angela Wynter, Michelle Greenidge and Kayla Meikle. It’s pure poetry as we cover generations and criss-cross the Atlantic. The detail is rich, but the stories are without specifics – a quite magical move that is occasionally frustrating. While it increases empathy for the characters, when it comes to some stories and when considering potential differences between the USA and UK, instinct cries out for more facts. But tucker green is insistent.

Cue part two, which has two academics debating a high-school massacre, with a twist (which the audience has to fill in many a blank for) of startling originality. There are superb performances here from Lashana Lynch, who becomes a picture of frustration before our eyes, and Demetri Goritsas as a patronising expert cagily ignoring the question of race. It’s a bit of a shame that tucker green sets up such a straw man with this character, even if he is brilliantly awful – I can’t curl my toes and concentrate at the same time (maybe tucker green has had more practice at this?).

Lashana Lynch

The third part of ear for eye is a film, with tucker green showing yet another set of skills. A cast of Caucasian men, women and children read out historic laws from America and Jamaica that relate to segregation and the treatment of slaves. There’s the novelty of mixing theatre with film in this way, and the triptych display of the film itself, a piece of cinema with a strangely static quality, is chilling even before considering its subject matter. Carefully using another’s words to complete her argument is a bold move for a writer, but it masterfully closes her case.

ear for eye needs patience, as complicated arguments require time. We are taken from body language to legal discourse, from the personal to the political and, while this is dizzyingly expansive, tucker green’s point is surely to show the connection between then and now: how the words on film affect the lives of the characters on stage. Her glorious text is all about tenses, as past, present and future are mixed from one sentence to the next, but it can be disorientating. History is collapsed as our contemporaries recite those awful laws and claim a living legacy for racism that is such an important part of contemporary debate.

Until 24 November 2018

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photos by Stephen Cummiskey