“The Collector” at The Vaults

It’s unfortunate for Mark Healy, the adapter of John Fowles’ gripping novel, that this reviewer, on top of his homework, is so fresh from reading the book. The story, of a lottery winner who kidnaps an art student he is long obsessed with, is still great and the acting here is strong, but while all the mechanics are present and correct the magic is missing.

A tough job for sure, the novel consists of long diaries, from both parties, showing different sides of the same event. Healy mashes the two together so the play is more conventional. It’s clear what’s going on and it’s a tense affair but a lack of ambition makes the characters flatter and the show is slowed by some fussy touches from director Joe Hufton and an incongruously cluttered set.

The plot is still strong enough to grip and leading man Daniel Portman has a star role to boast about. Not exactly well cast (that’s a compliment) he embodies the kidnapper Frederick’s peculiarities perfectly. There are moments of sexual repression here but that’s not Fowles’ focus and Portman constructs a boundary around these, showing us the “gentle force” he uses, which is much more frightening. We’re kept guessing about the depths of his insanity. Portman’s nuanced depiction drives the show.

His victim, played by Lily Loveless, suffers more from the inevitable editing but still presents a well-rounded character and is great in more emotional scenes. Awkward moments aren’t of Loveless’ making. Abandoning the original early 60s setting, there’s an iPhone and Fowles’ musical references are ignored, an obsession with class becomes jarring: inconsistent, incoherent and frankly odd. It’s as if Frederick has kidnapped a hipster and never had access to the Internet – we know he’s mad but both character’s here are adrift in time. The clash of cultures that should provide most of the motivation is lost. If Healy wanted to update, fair enough, but a more radical approach would have been necessary.

Until 28 August 2016

www.thevaults.london

Photo by Scott Rylander

“Treasure Island” at St Paul’s Church, Covent Garden

A little damp weather can’t harm Iris Theatre’s ship-shape and extremely jolly adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic adventure story. Ambitious sets by Valentina Turtur have taken over St Paul’s church and grounds, while a score from Candida Caldicot breathes further life into this fine children’s show. Eight and above is the recommendation, but parents have a strong chance of enjoying it just as much as their kids.

Director and adapter Daniel Winder’s clever move is to split the audience into privateers and pirates. A brave number of scenes feel like private affairs. While some of the audience battle it out on the good ship Hispaniola, another group mutinies by ambushing the Admiral (a superb Nick Howard-Brown). You’re either in or outside the stockade for a parlay, then you’re solving clues to find treasure or plotting to petrify the pirates. The gardens buzz and I wouldn’t be surprised at demands for return visits to see the other side of the story.

Harold Addo
Harold Addo

With this clever structure, it’s plain sailing for such a talented ensemble. Dominic Garfield is a suitably hirsute and downright dastardly Black Dog. Dafydd Gwyn Howells a swivel-eyed Long John Silver who’s as camp as you could wish. There’s a strong professional debut from Harold Addo as our hero, Jim. Anne-Marie Piazza wows for a second time this season as the indestructible Isabella Hands, an updated nod to the tradition of female pirates.

There’s just enough humour for the grownups and a big dose of audience participation for the kids, handled perfectly by the cast. Winder makes light of the “ticklish work” of finding treasure, steering clear of Disney by highlighting superstition on the high seas, pointing out just how much grog was swilling around and doing justice to Stevenson’s cynical look at class structure on board the ship, all the while expanding everyone’s pirate-related vocabulary with great skill. Yo-ho-ho and huzzah!

Until 28 August 2016

www.iristheatre.com

Photos by Hannah Barton

“Shangri-La” at the Finborough Theatre

Amy Ng’s new play takes us to China, tackling relationships with Tibet and the West through the well-applied prism of tourism. Our heroine is Bunny, skilfully portrayed by Julia Sandiford, a local who becomes a tour guide and photographer and whose breaking of taboos neatly establishes the play’s dramatic dilemmas.

Bunny’s employer is a company that aims for authentic and sustainable travel. Sounds nice. The naïve boss (Kevin Shen) wants “relationships not transactions”, and yet Ng’s strong script falters with the former, unaided by director Charlotte Westenra’s speedy pacing. This remarkably assured first full-length play deserves a more nurturing delivery.

Andrew Koji and Rosie Thomson
Andrew Koji and Rosie Thomson

Bunny’s dedication to her employers for isn’t quite convincing, while her animosity to her fellow guide (a standout performance from Andrew Koji) also stumbles. Credit is deserved for showing restraint when it comes to jokes about their rich-bitch client. Rosie Thomson, who takes the role, tries hard to add some depth, also impressing in flashbacks as a photojournalist who bribes and inspires Bunny. It’s a shame these first encounters with a camera – Bunny’s biggest passion – are the poorest scenes, being written too literally and delivered too quickly.

When it comes to those “transactions”, though, Ng is pin sharp and develops her play perfectly. The exposition of history and culture impresses and informs without condescension, while the economic arguments and impact of tourism are explored with nuance, and deeper repercussions ripple out nicely. Putting forth so much discussion so comprehensively is often what playwright’s struggle with most. Shangri-La leaves you wanting to see where Ng will visit next.

Until 6 August 2016

www.finboroughtheatre.co.uk

Photos by Scott Rylander

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s” at the Theatre Royal Haymarket

Richard Greenberg’s adaptation of Truman Capote’s novella wins admiration for resolutely not replicating the famous film onstage. Going back to the original source, there’s a determination to show the dark side of heroine Holly Golightly’s desperate life: prostitution, abuse and depression, described as the “mean reds”. It’s a disorientating experience for an audience if expectations are based on the production poster. Not necessarily a bad thing.

Sitting near me, a fan of singer Pixie Lott, who takes top billing in a font size bigger than the title, seemed puzzled. It can’t have been the thin story, which director Nikolai Foster propels nicely. Maybe it’s the small amount of singing (although what there is impresses). Lott gives a credible performance, tethered by studiously avoiding any trace of the movie’s iconic star, Audrey Hepburn. Here, Holly is blonde, defiant and downright sexy – it really is “Golightly gone” – a total transformation. A fine idea, but consequently we have to wait until two emotional scenes near the end to really glimpse Lott’s considerable acting potential.

Matt
Matt Barber

It’s clear to Lott, although it may be another surprise to some, that Holly isn’t the focus here. It’s Capote’s alter ego, a nameless writer, we are forced to focus on. Played by an exceptionally hard working Matt Barber, who injects a good deal of dynamism, fiercely holding the show together, it all comes down to how interesting you find this one writer’s struggle for success and journey of sexual discovery.

Capote, of course, found himself fascinating. If you don’t share his opinion, despite Foster’s efforts, the story is inconsequential. The show comes close to feeling like breakfast, lunch and dinner at Tiffany’s when just a cup of coffee would have sufficed. And there’s a cat – an astonishingly well-trained one you can follow on Twitter (@TiffanysBobCat). While everyone here is far too good to be upstaged by his feline talents, I’d rather follow him than the author any day.

Greenberg’s work is exemplary in creating the feel of a short story on stage – which is interesting – so the crux is how much Capote you can cope with? The case against? Holly isn’t quite the invention she’s cracked up to be, while secondary characters are weak, with the ensemble reduced to dodgy divertissements (rollerskates? No thank you). If you like your humour waspish with a big dose of self-indulgence, this fine production serves the author better than he deserves.

www.breakfastattiffanys.co.uk

Until 17 September 2016

Photos by Sean Ebsworth Barnes

“Into The Woods” at the Menier Chocolate Factory

Derek McLane’s set, surrounding the Fiasco Theatre Company as it performs its hit transfer from the States, is a sculptural presence that takes us inside a piano. Discarded keyboards frame the stage and the strings are ropes, suggesting the trees among which James Lapine cleverly mixes and matches fairy tales to Stephen Sondheim’s brilliant music.

menier chocolate factory
Claire Karpen as Cinderella with Noah Brody and Andy Grotelueschen as the Stepsisters

Visually and aurally, this is a stripped-back show. A single piano, with an impressive array of percussion and a smattering of other instruments, is performed by the cast, and led by pianist Evan Rees. Sacrifices are inevitable, incidentally discordant notes at the entrée of Act Two are unnecessary, but the singing is all you could wish for, especially with Claire Karpen and Vanessa Reseland as Cinderella and The Witch. There’s some lovely doubling of roles as well. Having the princes perform as the wicked stepsisters is worth sacrificing two sopranos; Noah Brody and Andy Grotelueschen are marvellous, also taking the roles of the wolf and the cow in their stride.

Vanessa Reseland as The Witch
Vanessa Reseland as The Witch

It all seems a casual and convivial affair. The troupe wear home-spun costumes (crochet is always comforting), the props are minimal and the emphasis on invention is, well, jolly. There’s a conversational tone injected by directors Brody and Ben Steinfeld, constructed by having the cast share the role of narrator, while nodding at audience participation and our shared knowledge of the stories. Brilliantly done, but the payoff is to come.

It’s the ‘ever after’ that’s the best bit, when the wishes made have come true but life remains just as complicated. The baker and his wife come into focus – with terrific performances from Steinfeld and Jessie Austrian. This couple are the key and the most relatable characters in the show, even if they do live next to a witch. Fiasco has prepared the ground cleverly; all that complicity and transparency links their stories to our own lives. In showing how you make the make believe, going into these woods feels like a real journey we must all undertake.

Until 17 September 2016

www.menierchocolatefactory.com

Photos by Catheine Ashmore

“Fury” at the Soho Theatre

Damsel Productions’ third show confirms that this young team can pick a great play. And that co-founder/director Hannah Hauer-King is a confident, fresh talent. An intelligent interaction with the story of Medea, achingly contemporary and set on a South London council estate, Phoebe Eclair-Powell’s script has a brave lyricism and the production is gut-wrenchingly gripping.

There are more topical concerns here than you can shake a stick at: gentrification, a clash of classes and the collapse of the welfare state. Yet there’s no trace of ticking boxes, rather a sincere wish to question the demonisation of a “terrified and lonely” single mother. Sarah Ridgeway takes the main role, a performance magically more than the sum of its parts, made intense by the play’s aim of “showing us the pieces of her life”.

An Argonaut is notably absent here. Instead there’s an upstairs neighbour, a student called Tom who comes to dominate and abuse. The role is perhaps the play’s weakest link as he’s too creepy from the start, besides the fact that anyone at college who hires a cleaner is suspect. Thankfully, when a truly evil side is shown, Hauer-King has established enough momentum for Alex Austin to shine in the part.

Eclair-Powell’s most fruitful synthesis from Euripides is the reconfiguration of the Greek chorus. Performed by a talented trio, Naana Agyei-Ampadu, Daniel Kendrick and Anita-Joy Uwajeh, they are beautifully choreographed and their singing sounds great. They do so much: shaping action and interpretation, by turns interrogatory, accusatory and sympathetic. Adopting secondary characters roots us in the real world and ensures Fury is stimulatingly layered.

Towards the bloody finale, the chorus appear as social workers. This Medea’s revenge and desperation is not focused on a single man. Casting her net as wide as can be, Eclair-Powell’s ambition is brilliantly refocused – it isn’t just one woman’s life we see on stage but our whole society.

Until 30 July 2016

www.sohotheatre.com

Photo by The Other Richard

“Faith Healer” at the Donmar Warehouse

Rain is falling as we are introduced to the ‘Fantastic’ Frank Hardy, an itinerant performer, whose life and miraculous show lie between the “absurd and the momentous”. Es Devlin’s stunning set creates a box of brilliantly lit water that returns between each of the four monologues that make up this intense and intriguing revival of Brian Friel’s 1979 play.

Stephen Dillane joins a line of famous names to tackle the title role. It’s a restrained performance, uncompromisingly demanding, carefully playing with the “sedation of incantation” that runs through the script: place names visited, adventures and traumas, are repeated in the softest tones. Hardy knows whether or not miracles will happen – that his success depends on chance – so his gift is also a curse.

We meet Hardy’s mistress and manager. As the former, Gina McKee’s accent is offputting at first – we’ve been told she’s from Yorkshire, and that’s not the only lie we discover from hearing her side of the story. The detail McKee invests in her scene makes it moving and engrossing. After these hear-a-pin-drop performances there’s some respite, thanks to Ron Cook’s appealing Cockney artistes agent. Though stories about a bagpipe-playing dog are funny, this isn’t comic relief. Cook presents a tired and disappointed man with subtlety.
The performances are awe-inspiring but the material is consuming to the point of claustrophobic and difficult because of its complexity. The drama comes from having three unreliable narrators, who lived together for many years but don’t meet during the play and are talking about events in the past. We see Hardy’s wife after his (possible) murder, and his manager after she has committed suicide, but the chronology is not explicit and how much time passes between scenes is opaque. Friel’s script shifts and changes and needs the lightness of touch that director Lyndsey Turner provides. A heavy hand could damage such first-class storytelling. Rendered so impeccably, the play is absorbing.

Until 20 August 2016\

www.donmarwarehouse.com

Photos by Johan Persson

“Much Ado About Nothing” at St Paul’s Church, Covent Garden

Damp weather did nothing to deter the Iris Theatre Company last night at the opening of its summer season. Comfortably resident at ‘The Actors’ Church’, it always expertly navigates the grounds and building for its promenade performances. Director Amy Draper’s production of Shakespeare’s romantic comedy is no exception, and proves funny and heart-warming, whatever the weather.

The best thing about Iris Theatre’s shows sounds boring – that you can hear every word. This is no small achievement when actors are unmiked, outdoors and competing with all and sundry in the Piazza. While the declamatory acting style can be off-putting, Draper’s performers make exaggeration work for them, emphasising the tricks and tales, including nasty plots, our four lovers have to endure.

This is a stripped-back show, with only seven in the cast, and you might wish for more, even though the ensemble delivers. Jennifer Clement is particularly hard working: despite plenty of costume changes, she’s never breathless and has terrific comedy skills. Emma McDonald benefits from the economy, performing as a sweet Hero, and then ordering the audience about as a belligerent Dogberry, the “ass” heading up the Prince’s Watch. Abbreviating this sometimes-tiresome bunch into a Keystone Cops couple really works, and their marshalling the audience around the grounds is clever stuff.

Anne-Marie Piazza is a brilliant police officer alongside McDonald, climbing lampposts and stealing snacks from the crowd. Yet this isn’t her main achievement – her Beatrice is top notch. Funny, bike riding, accordion playing… is there nothing the woman cannot do? Joined by Nick Howard-Brown (another natural comedian) as a charming Benedick, the querulous couple’s bickering and courtship is the highlight of this speedy, accomplished and appealing show.

Until 22 July 2016

www.iristheatre.com

Photo by Hannah Barton

“The Truth” at Wyndham’s Theatre

French playwright Florian Zeller’s well-deserved success continues with this sparkling comedy of manners about adultery. As with his previous hit, The Father, Christopher Hampton adapts and the production comes from Bath, this time via the Menier Chocolate Factory. Twisting perspectives and playing with expectations, Zeller’s winning formula engages the audience in an enthralling fashion. This is edge-of-your seat comedy – as exciting as it is funny.

The staging is an austere affair – the flair comes with the writing and director Lindsay Posner keeps the action and performances taut. Four friends and their affairs, the deceit and double crossing, interrogations and revelations, are delicious. The thoughtful overtones of a play so self-consciously about lying are held in check to serve the high-quality humour.

Alexander Hanson, as Michel, gives a gleeful performance as an arch hypocrite who sees guilt as “useless” and lying as the sensitive thing to do. Hanson gets the lion’s share of the lines, followed by the mistress, a convincingly chic Frances O’Connor, her husband, who is his best friend, and the wife. The latter two, played by a wonderfully dry Robert Portal and Tanya Franks (brilliant in the final scene), may be on stage less but it’s testament to the script and cast that this play feels such a firm four-hander. The betrayed have secrets of their own (of course!), providing shocks and laughs.

The circle of lies Zeller constructs is viciously funny and satisfyingly clever. Silly slips and people trapped into telling the truth all happen in a wealthy milieu where discretion is the obsession. With lashes of Gallic sophistication only adding to the fun for a London audience, the wit and irony here is finessed to perfection.

Until 3 September 2016

www.delfontmackintosh.co.uk

Photo by Marc Brenner

“Gertrude – The Cry” at Theatre N16

Chris Hislop is a brave director. Staging the first revival of Howard Barker’s 2002 play is not for the faint hearted. The play refocuses Shakespeare’s Hamlet through female characters and makes for an interesting puzzle. The controversy comes with a tense subservience to Barker’s own themes – this is some explicit Shakespeare. X-rated and extreme, the text’s obsession with sex and death is allied to the idea of ecstasy, and there are plenty of downright odd ideas and actions. Opening on Gertrude and Claudius fornicating over a corpse is hardly subtle stuff, but a kinky, adventurous streak is to the production’s credit.

Jamie Hutchins as Hamlet
Jamie Hutchins as Hamlet

Hislop deserves further praise for the strong performances garnered from his cast, and there’s a deserved sense of pride in showing these off. In the title role Izabella Urbanowicz is “severe” and sex crazed, and skilled at showing the character’s pain – even when Gertrude starts referring to herself in the third person, there’s still fragility. All the men are in thrall to Gertrude, and Alexander Hulme and David Zachary play Claudius and Albert with a suitably visceral brutality.

The more interesting characters, who bring out the sly humour in the text, are the servant Cascan, well played by Stephen Oswald, and our former hero, Hamlet. Taking on a very different Dane, one in “the last days of infancy”, Jamie Hutchins excels, “saying less, suffering more”, with outrage and oddity perfectly embodied. There are two further fascinating roles for women. L J Reeves plays Ragusa (no, I’m not sure why she isn’t called Ophelia) and Lisa Keast, the “vile and peculiar” Queen Mother. More than a foil for Gertrude, Barker spoils us by giving these women quirks of their own. Their brave performances add substantially to the show.

None of the roles Barker has written is easy. The accusation against him is one of misogyny – it’s easy to see why – but misanthropy might be more precise. Ragusa’s lament, that “man is better than this, surely?”, is one line most of us would agree with. More problematic, the characters are so deliberately stylised (yet more credit to the cast) with a yen for the abstract, it’s easy to disconnect from them. Barker’s poetic dialogue, expletives included, is so defiant it’s hard not to admire it. But discussion of that cry – a mysterious signifier of orgasm, childbirth, betrayal (a lot, then) – is both overplayed and opaque. Suspiciously in need of capitalisation, The Cry takes over from Gertrude as the subject of this play. Frequently hysterical, the text becomes shrill. My response to Barker, a polite request to “Calm down, dear.”

Until 30 June 2016

www.theatren16.co.uk

Photos by Roy Tan