“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

“Casa Valentina” at the Southwark Playhouse

From the true story of a holiday retreat for transvestites at the turn of the 1960s, Harvey Fierstein creates an intriguing and substantial comedy drama that has plenty of balls.

Peopled by brilliant characters, most of whom I’d happily see a play about, director Luke Sheppard’s European premiere revels in these complex roles. There’s a decorated war hero, known as Bessie, performed with great charm by Matt Rixon. Ashley Robinson gives the independent Gloria (“irresistible” as man and woman) an appropriately arresting rendition. And new to this tight-knit crowd comes Jonathan, literally allowing his alter ego Miranda out for the first time, with a sensitive portrayal by Ben Deery.

Gareth Snook in Casa Valentina by Robert Workman
Gareth Snook

This is all moving and interesting. But there’s another story, too, as the community searches for respectability. Driven by the serpentine Charlotte (played mesmerisingly by Gareth Snook), there’s a drive to dissociate transvestites from homosexuals. Charlotte is a zealot and her combat with a closeted judge, played by Robert Morgan, includes a riveting blackmail scene. Fierstein shows us not just the camaraderie of this community, but also how persecution blights lives.

Edward Wolstenholme and Tamsin Carroll Casa Valentina by Robert Workman 2015 6
Edward Wolstenholme and Tamsin Carroll

In the middle are the resorts owners, a married couple (or should that be trio?): George/Valentina and Rita. Edward Wolstenholme takes the title role, trying to make a business work and craving “normality” (he’s in the wrong place in more than once sense), while his understanding wife, the heroine of the piece, is given a strong presence by Tamsin Carroll. Their union collapses under the pressure of his competing personas.

Fierstein doesn’t blindly follow a liberal agenda. Clearly, revealing how difficult these men’s lives are creates sympathy. But the secrecy surrounding cross-dressing takes its toll on them and nobody here is a saint. Of course, the play is all the better for this. A work of deep insight, benefiting from the scrupulous mining of a time and place, Casa Valentina delves into psychology with flair and bravery.

Until 10 October 2015

www.southwarkplayhouse.co.uk

Photos by Robert Workman

“Kinky Boots” at the Adelphi Theatre

Here’s another musical based on a movie, this time the hit Broadway adaptation of a sweet true story about a Midlands shoe manufacturer saved from bankruptcy by making boots for transvestites. It’s a model musical with basic morals, a focused plot and nicely developing characters you care about. And, judging by the audience’s rapturous response, it looks as if it will kick up its heels and run and run. Given the footwear worn by the cast, that’s no mean achievement.

Kinky Boots is more a collection of songs than true musical theatre… but it is an excellent collection. Putting aside the opening couple of numbers, there’s variety, originality and an exceptionally high hit rate. The production has some issues with delivery from the chorus, making lyrics hard to hear. But these songs feel like old friends, such is their instant appeal – it’s like a jukebox musical without the back catalogue. It’s still fairly hard to believe that Cyndi Lauper’s score won the Tony over Tim Minchin’s Matilda in 2013, but that’s awards for you.

Amy Lennox (Lauren) and Killian Donnelly (Charlie) in Kinky Boots - photo Matt Crocket
Amy Lennox and Killian Donnelly

Killian Donnelly plays Charlie Price, who has just inherited the family business, and is top-notch with a tremendous solo number, ‘Soul of a Man’. There’s a standout turn from Amy Lennox as his love interest, whose quirky delivery of ‘The History Of Wrong Guys’ is a real crowd pleaser. In the lead role of Lola, the drag queen turned shoe designer, Matt Henry sounds superb but his comic skills need honing and, ironically, he doesn’t seem that comfortable in drag… yet. Another problem is that the ensemble feels split, with the shoemakers trying too hard to compete with Lola’s superb troop of backing singers. Since these ‘Angels’ include performers who can do a back somersault in heels, those in the factory lose out a little too obviously.

Backing up the show is Harvey Fierstein’s book and impeccable direction, including choreography, from Jerry Mitchell. It’s an understatement to say they know what they’re doing. Both Broadway legends, their work is almost ruthlessly efficient. Fierstein can write a put down better than most (Lola wouldn’t trust herself to “babysit a cactus”) but the focus is Lauper’s feelgood soundtrack, which elicits near hysterical responses from people around me. I wouldn’t go quite that far, but it’s definitely fun, and Kinky Boots can hold its head tall. And, in those heels, that’s very tall indeed.

Until 6 February 2016

www.kinkybootsthemusical.co.uk

Photos by Matt Crocket

“Photograph 51” at the Noël Coward Theatre

The promise of a film star who is just as good on stage is fulfilled in Anna Zeigler’s new play. A-lister Nicole Kidman takes the role of scientist Rosalind Franklin, who made a vital contribution to the discovery of DNA, and she doesn’t disappoint (just as she delighted critics with her first famous foray into London theatre in 1998). In this play, more about sexism than science, the characters remember the actor but not the actress in a production they attend – no one could make such an oversight here.

Kidman commands the stage, her performance as controlled as Franklin’s character and is brave enough not to try to make us like this frosty, determined woman. There are just enough perfectly placed glimpses to show a sensitive side. Equally impressively, Kidman works impeccably with fellow performers. Director Michael Grandage’s male casting is another achievement. Stephen Campbell Moore, Will Attenborough, Edward Bennett and Patrick Kennedy excel as a quartet of scientists Franklin has to deal with, while Joshua Silver is an amiable PhD student who serves as a narrator.

PHOTOGRAPH 51 by Ziegler, , writer -Anna Ziegler, Director -Michael Grandage, Set & Costume Designer - Christopher Oram, Lighting Designer - Neil Austin, The Noel Coward Theatre, London, UK, 2015, Credit: Johan Persson/
Christopher Oram’s design and Neil Austin’s lighting.

Ziegler writes with ample characterisation and good dialogue. While period detail about post-war London feels sketchy, the male hostility experienced by our heroine generates outrage that makes the play fizz. Unfortunately Photograph 51 is not exactly gripping. We’ve all seen science on stage done better by Frayn, Payne and most recently Tom Morton-Smith. And yet Grandage and Kidman do a remarkable job of spicing things up, the pace is terrific and Christopher Oram’s startling design, evoking London’s ruined King’s College, uses a light-box-style floor to great effect.

One problem is that attempts to reflect the excitement of discovery are contrasted by Franklin’s methodical behaviour. And the focus is so much on how she was treated that her scientific achievements get lost. Conspiracies against Franklin, with an eye to historical accuracy, have to be muted: Crick and Watson, who ‘won’ the DNA race are “a couple of old rogues” rather than anything more sinister. Franklin is a victim of everyday sexism, which is annoying but not the stuff of high-octane drama. I’m somewhat ashamed to have never heard of Franklin, which is much of the play’s point. It’s good to have my ignorance corrected, but the lesson is more admirable than enjoyable.

Until 21 November 2015

www.michaelgrandagecompany.com

Photos by Johan Persson

“Future Conditional” at the Old Vic

Marking Matthew Warchus’ first production in charge at the Old Vic, Tamsin Oglesby’s new play is literally about education, education, education, with three views of schools crammed into one, like an overcrowded classroom. The evening is entertaining and feels fresh, and one or two parts might have passed on their own, but cumulatively the play doesn’t score highly.

Lucy Briggs-Owen (Hettie) and Natalie Klamar (Suzy) in Future Conditional. Photo credit Manuel Harlan
Lucy Briggs-Owen and Natalie Klamar

There are those pushy mums at the primary school gates, desperate for their kids to get on. OK, predictable, but the social observations are funny. There’s a strong turn from Lucy Briggs-Owen, as her character justifies going into the private system, and heartfelt angst from Natalie Klamar with a struggle to stay state. There’s a stilted amazement at class differences – are the school gates one of the few places people mix? I suppose I’m not qualified to say. The scenes are fun if slight.

Then there’s an education committee, a talking shop that Oglesby gets more laughs from. Warchus comes into his own here with the direction far tighter than the writing. Talk about shooting fish in a barrel: the arguments are so simplistic and the many characters so transparent it’s almost insulting to an audience. Ironically, the chances of learning anything about education, or being challenged in your thinking, are far too slim.
Rob Brydon (Crane) in Future Conditional. Photo credit Manuel Harlan (2)
Future Conditional’s most moving narrative has an emotional topicality, with the story of a Malala-like refugee from the Taliban, played impressively by Nikki Patel. She is joined by a woefully underused Rob Brydon as her inspirational teacher, sadly reduced to a trite little speech about how teachers are societal scapegoats. Patel’s Alia is the only character to appreciate learning and her story is uplifting. That her destination is, you’ve guessed it, Oxford, points to the play’s flaw: Warchus and the young cast have plenty of energy and create an exciting feel, but Ogelsby tries to tackle so much that originality goes to the back of the class.

Until 3 October 2015

www.oldvictheatre.com

Photos by Manuel Harlan

“Song From Far Away” at the Young Vic

The combination of respected playwright Simon Stephens and director of the moment Ivo van Hove makes this new play a hot ticket. A demanding monologue, presented as letters written by well-to-do young banker Willem recalling his brother’s death, funeral and family relationships, it’s an intense 80 minutes that has exceptional moments.

Dutch actor Eelco Smits gives a wholly admirable performance in a difficult role – not least because a good part of it is performed naked, and mostly since the character is curiously bland. While it’s clear he’s a tortured soul, the reasons why remain tantalisingly unexplored. Stephens carefully controls Willem’s above-average executive angst and the audience’s latent sympathy. Moments of empathy for his parents are moving, his own lost love likewise, but so much is left unsaid, despite detailing his life and grief.
Eelco_Smits_in_Song_From_Far_Away._Photo_by_Jan_Versweyveld_3Stephens’ writing is poetic and full of satisfying observations. The ordinary is addressed in a meticulous manner that grows on you. But it’s hard to disguise the play’s thinness. Nonetheless, van Hove makes the show super stylish with a portentous atmosphere. There’s a fulsome appreciation of the silences in life, which Stephens writes eloquently about and enriches Mark Eitzel’s recurring song for the piece. Above all, there’s some stunning staging, akin to still lifes with nudes, through the exquisite design and lighting by Jan Versweyveld, which enforce the play’s understated poignancy.

Until 19 September 2015

www.youngvic.org

Photo by Jan Versweyveld

“The Man Who Had All The Luck” at the King’s Head Theatre

Director Paul Lichtenstern celebrates the centenary of Arthur Miller’s birth with a respectable revival of the master playwright’s first Broadway play. It’s probably fair to say this is a less well known and, overall, lesser work but, as the piece is so seldom performed, you should take a chance the see it. And even Miller before his best is way ahead of most writers.

Lichtenstern works dedicatedly with the script, drawing out the mileage Miller gets from his hero David’s blessed life: his luck in both marriage and work, how obstacles disappear and opportunities embrace him. Jamie Chandler takes on the role of this contemporary tragic hero and is clearly an actor to watch out for, transitioning eloquently from responsible young man to paranoiac – his fortune contrasts so profoundly with those around him that he obsesses that he will have to pay one day.

Jamie Chandler, Michael Kinsey in The Man Who Had All the Luck at King's Head Theatre, photography by George Linfield
Jamie Chandler and Michael Kinsey

The strong surrounding cast includes Keith Hill and Michael Kinsey, playing David’s father and brother, with a dexterous sub plot about a baseball career that goes wrong. And Chloe Walshe, in a mostly underwritten role, deals superbly with the final scene when her character and David, now wife and husband, come closest to breaking down.

The play is overwhelmingly schematic – Miller termed it a ‘fable’ – but it’s constructed, or maybe it’s better to think of it as contained, with skill and sincerity. Lichtenstern appreciates the piece’s probity, attempting to question fate and autonomy alongside that old chestnut, the American Dream, and adding a superb score that he composed with Mike Smaczylo. That Miller’s concluding act is less satisfactory, coming too close to contrived, doesn’t take away from this production’s achievement.

Until 27 September 2015

www.kingsheadtheatre.com

Photos by George Linfield

“The Oresteia” at Shakespeare’s Globe

It’s hard not to contrast this new production of Aeschylus’ trilogy with that from the Almeida – acclaimed and transferred to the West End. But Rory Mullarkey’s adaptation has its own aims. A more literal translation of the story, miraculously condensed and painfully blunt, it focuses obsessively and powerfully on the theme of justice. For all the Almeida’s contemporary touches, Mullarkey’s version is the riskier. But unfortunately the plays, despite their universal themes and influences that echo especially loudly in Shakespeare’s Globe, come across as downright wacky.

There’s a great start, with a fluid chorus containing excellent actors. Hannah Clark’s costumes, with a nod to the geometric style of pre-classical Greek art, end up giving us a sixties-siren Clytemnestra that Katy Stephens performs marvellously. The modern score, by Mira Calix, will not be to every taste although it’s satisfyingly integral: Cassandra’s role is mostly sung, accompanied by a saxophone, and Naana Agyei-Ampadu won my admiration in the role even before she had to perform in a gold lamé swimsuit. Even a prophetess couldn’t have seen that one coming.

0resteia-2-credit-Robert-Day
Joel MacCormack and Rosie Hilal

For the second play, there are strong performances from Joel MacCormack and Rosie Hilal, playing Orestes and Electra. Stephens’ return as a Biba-bitch is again strong, with a startling wardrobe malfunction. But director Adele Thomas’s camp touches start to get out of control. Cue the Furies, presented as something out of a horror film – it makes sense, I suppose, but the zombie twitching and grunting, admittedly light hearted, detracts from the powerful language. We’ve already had plenty of gore, the stage literally “blood carpeted”, and a Chamber of Horrors tableau Tussaud’s would be proud of. None of this compares favourably with Mullarkey’s text.

And on to the final play, peopled by “the gods, the ghosts, the monsters, the demons”, a combination that’s clearly too much for any audience’s good. It’s impossible to forget how odd this all is as drama: a lesson about the first ever murder trial, with a Goddess in charge. Athena is, strangely, as wooden as a statue that descends like something out of Spinal Tap. There’s an uneasy humour again… and even a giant golden phallus. Thomas’s embrace of the oddity a modern audience inevitably senses ultimately seems lazy, even if the cast works like mad.

Until 16 October 2015

www.shakespearesglobe.com

Photo by Robert Day