2015

“Playground” at the Old Red Lion

A children’s picnic bench and climbing frames are an apt setting for Peter Hamilton’s new work. This is a playwright at play, with an outrageous scenario of book clubs and butchery. Playground is murder mystery, peopled by oddballs, with a wicked sense of humour.

Two peculiar policemen are searching for a child killer. Meanwhile, our prime suspect (Richard Fish) recruits the mentally ill to discuss Enid Blyton books. It’s part of a plan to join the middle classes… somehow. Laura Garnier and Simon Every make the most of their roles as psychiatric patients: Tamsin’s a communist and Stuart a genuine member of the proletariat (always a tricky combination). And Josie Ayers has a great turn as a suicidal, middle-aged misfit with a morbid sex drive. Oh, and there’s a café owner (Sarah Quist) singing nursery rhymes, called Lizzy… or is she? It’s all a bit of a puzzle, but the jokes stop you from taking it too seriously.

There are a lot of ideas here (mostly about mental health), and a stubborn resistance to shape them. Themes are lost in these comic creations – the evening really works as a series of sketches. Director and designer Ken McClymont handles the cast well, but if anyone has a clear idea of what’s going on it doesn’t come through.

By the time the policemen reappear, one of them in drag, I’d relaxed into this tastless, off-beat comedy. Dan MacLane brings a lovely deadpan touch to Detective Mitchell. His lust for colleague copper Birch, Christopher James Barley, making the most of those climbing frames, is deftly done. As a kind of conclusion, Stuart expresses a hope that one day man will live on Mars. Hamilton is already off in space if you ask me, but he can make you laugh whatever planet he’s on.

Until 7 November 2015

www.oldredliontheatre.co.uk

Photo by Cameron Sharle

2015

“The Father” at Wyndham’s Theatre

Florian Zeller’s prize-winning play from France is a superbly performed, structurally interesting piece that explores senile dementia in a manner that’s both smart and stimulating.

Setting much of the action from the perspective of the elderly Andre is a masterstroke and makes the most of theatre’s immediacy – this is a play that couldn’t work in any other medium. As characters and furniture come and go, we share Andre’s confusion and paranoia. Who owns this house and who are these people? Despite little plot, Zeller’s piece is as tense as a thriller.

Translated by Christopher Hampton and directed by James Macdonald with fitting precision, the script is admirably sparse and controlled. There’s no indulgence here and, although you’ll probably leave in tears, there’s laughter, too, along with a frightening assessment of how annoying ageing relatives can be.

Kenneth Cranham is magnetic in the lead role, charming, amusing and imposing, often angry and ultimately heart-wrenchingly frightened. But, like his daughter, struggling to care for him and lead her own life, played marvellously by Claire Skinner, Cranham makes the most of understatement. This isn’t King Lear. These are unquestionably real people dealing with an increasingly common situation. The Father derives considerable power from its topicality, along with its sincere emotional realism. It’s all brave medicine delivered in well-measured doses.

Until 21 November 2015

www.delfontmackintosh.co.uk

Photos by Simon Annand

2015

“Measure For Measure” at the Young Vic

It requires a director as bold as Joe Hill-Gibbins to revel in the oddness of Shakespeare’s ‘problem’ play. Taking licence with the tragi-comic text and its complex moral questioning, this production is radical in the true sense of the word: a far-reaching, thoughtful interpretation that strips it of context and relies on emotional realism.

On the Saturday matinee I attended, Ivanno Jeremiah was unable to perform as Claudio, so first a big thank-you to Raphael Sowole, who stepped up and allowed the show to go on. It’s not ideal conditions but one absence did little to detract from how forthright Hill-Gibbins’ vision is. And, besides, the supernumerary cast of sex dolls more than manages to fill the stage.

That’s right – inflatable sex dolls, which are inevitably what the production will be remembered for. This is a shame since, while irreverent fun, they are not the best thing on offer. With live video recording projected onto the stage, this show gets up close and personal. And, with some help from Hans Memling’s apocalyptic artwork, arresting imagery is everywhere, with a pulsating soundscape from Paul Arditti adding to the atmosphere.

Paul_Ready_Zubin_Varla_and_Natalie_Simpson_in_Measure_for_Measure_at_the_Young_Vic._Photo_by_Keith_Pattison
Paul Ready and Zubin Varla

Best of all are the performances. The cast, like the text, is slimmed down and works hard. Romola Garai is brilliant as an indignant Isabella, as is Paul Ready as a cool Angelo – both performers root out the essentials of their characters. There are also strong roles for Cath Whitefield’s Mariana (although why she should be a fan of pop star Pink baffled me) and John Mackay’s Lucio, whose joke with the Duke has far more mileage than usual. It’s with the Duke, given a towering portrayal by Zubin Varla, that Hill-Gibbins should get most credit. This ‘power divine’ is displayed in his twisted benevolent best – a Rasputin gone right, with an injection of tension that suggests his plans could go awry. The conclusion, shuffling the cast into a deranged and confused photo opportunity, makes quite a picture for this flash-bang-wallop of a show.

Until 14 November 2015

www.youngvic.org

Photos by Keith Pattison

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

2015

“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

2015

“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

2015

“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

2015

“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

2015

“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

2015

“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