2015

“The Seagull” at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

Given that The Seagull opens with its hero Konstantin putting on an outdoor performance, Regent’s Park feels a pretty good match for Chekhov’s play. The stunning venue is enhanced by Jon Bausor’s splendid design – a giant mirror hangs above the action, literally adding another dimension to reflect upon. Matthew Dunster’s production looks fantastic, but sadly there’s too much chasing after laughs so the play falls curiously flat.

The problem isn’t so much with Torben Betts’ new adaptation of the play – although the language is sometimes too direct, it can be good to shake up a classic. This version is easy to follow and feels modern. Rather, it’s Dunster’s emphasis on the comedy; he gets plenty of laughs but the humour doesn’t build and the play’s more poignant moments feel thrown away. Some characters suffer dreadfully: Medviedenko, the teacher, is reduced to a comedian with just one punch line, the ever-miserable Masha a wailing drunk and the young leads are simply too gauche. Matthew Tennyson and Sabrina Bartlett hold the stage as the aspiring artists Konstantin and Nina, and their naiveté gets laughs but both actors aren’t given a chance to delve deeper.

Other roles fare better. The writer Trigorin’s ego fascinates. Alex Robertson makes him funny and irritating – a petulant take on the character that’s interesting. And Janie Dee’s Arkadina manages to be at once jolly and roundly three-dimensional. Dunster is strongest with group scenes, highlighting uncomfortable dynamics as an “angel of the awkward silence” is said to descend. Also interesting are the two servants (Tom Greaves and Tara D’Arquian), who giggle at innuendo and silently respond to events.

The production also has the novel device of using a voiceover for character’s thoughts. It’s certainly startling but privileges certain players too much. Frustratingly, despite being inside their heads, we don’t feel any closer to them, and this internal dialogue is used indiscriminately and again mostly just for laughs. Nice try, but this showy device is symptomatic of a production that tries hard but doesn’t hit anything… apart from that poor seagull, of course.

Until 11 July 2015

www.openairtheatre.com

Photo by Johan Persson

2015

“Twelfth Night” at St Paul’s Church, Covent Garden

Now in its seventh year at ‘The Actors Church’, Iris Theatre has struck gold with Vik Sivalingam’s Twelfth Night. Using the gardens, making the church itself look divine and including the audience in a good-natured fashion, this show is promenade performance at its best. Crammed with comedy, the play’s contrivances, of separated twins and cross-dressed courtship, are funnier than ever.

Sivalingam’s aim is to entertain – such clarity imbues the cast with purpose. Pepter Lunkuse is a believable Viola – it’s easy to predict she’s an actress with a bright future. Nick Howard-Brown’s Feste and Julian Moore-Cook’s Orsino are commanding presences. Tony Bell and Robert Maskell, both experienced performers, play a dour Malvolio and carousing Sir Toby with vigour. Act two, scene five, with the fantasising Malvolio duped by Anne-Marie Piazza’s delicious Maria, is the best I’ve seen performed.

A wonderful sense of intimacy is created in the flower-filled gardens. Entreated to follow the actors to different scenes becomes a playful treat – it’s a great game to go wooing Olivia with Viola. And Olivia’s pursuit, when she falls for the twin dressed as a man, is full of complicit cheekiness, embodied by Olivia Onyehara. A duel between characters is conducted with an umbrella and a mop. Even the shrubbery is used as a prop.

The production’s small cast impresses, performing Harry Blake’s music, which subtly infuses the show, as well as by taking on multiple roles. None more so than Henry Wyrley-Birch, whose Sebastian is heroic, while his Andrew Aguecheek elevates a sometimes tiresome role into a central figure – seldom has so much comedy come from a cape. The brief moment when Sebastian and Aguecheek meet is something to look forward to – it’s handled with an endearing humour that’s indicative of how light, lithe and easy to love this show is.

Until 24 July 2015

www.iristheatre.com

Photo by Hannah Barton

2015

“Asking Rembrandt” at the Old Red Lion Theatre

Bringing a painter’s life to stage or film isn’t easy. Choosing the best-known master of self-portraiture seems especially brave. Rembrandt – or more accurately, the artist’s impending bankruptcy – is the subject of Steve Gooch’s new play. I don’t buy the idea. There’s too much hindsight and, even worse, it’s a poor source of dramatic tension.

Attempts to add appeal to the, to my taste, dry topic of the business of art, are numerous – unfortunately none is pursued long enough to save the play from feeling monochrome and modern vocabulary becomes clunky. And while scenes of domestic intimacy between the artist, his son Titus and live-in-lover Henni benefit from a sense of the claustrophobic community of the time, it’s that old struggle of the misunderstood artist that’s hammered away at. Scenes with Jan Six, Rembrandt’s informal fixer, increase in animosity as they wrangle over art and money in arguments that are over earnest and over rehearsed.

Jonathan Kemp’s direction has secured a capable cast and it’s frustrating to imagine what they might have done with more nuanced material. Esme Patey-Ford and Loz KeyStone make appealing members of Rembrandt’s household and John Gorick is credible as the suave Jan Six.

Liam McKenna’s bullish Rembrandt keeps you on your toes and performs valiantly, although it’s a shame the central character comes too close to the stereotype of the irascible artist. Ironically, Rembrandt’s achievements as a painter, unaided by the reproductions unveiled onstage, don’t impress. Jan Six says he doesn’t want his portrait on the wall in his “front room”. I can’t say I blame him.

Until 18 July 2015

www.oldredliontheatre.co.uk

Photo by Chris Gardner

2015

“The Motherf**cker In The Hat” at the National Theatre

A play that comes with its own stars, albeit an excessively modest two of them, Stephen Adly Guirgis’ Broadway hit may have a title that fits uncomfortably with the National Theatre’s augustness, but The Motherf**cker In The Hat is a quality play that London should welcome. Detailing the struggles and affairs between a drug addict on probation, his ‘sponsor’ and their girlfriends, the work’s vigorous language belies its old-fashioned enquiry into morality.

Jpeg 1Ricardo Chavira plays Jackie, a troubled convict following a plan to free himself from addiction with a suitably cynical edge, making our hero hugely appealing despite his faults. Flor De Liz Perez (pictured) performs as Jackie’s partner, delivering vicious tirades with verve. Also from the States comes Yul Vázquez as Cousin Julio, delivering a marvellously understated, original performance. Completing this strong cast, directed flawlessly by Indhu Rubasingham, are Nathalie Armin as the unfortunate wife of the rehabilitated Ralph, the philandering sponsor with a PhD in persuasion, depicted brilliantly by Alec Newman as a devil who firmly believes he has all the best lines.

It can’t be denied that the play is reminiscent of a soap opera (or should that be a telenovela?), but the sordid plot twists, while predictable, are expertly handled and feel believable. Likewise, the bad language and lurid insults play their part, not just in making the script very funny, but in creating characters you really fall for. For all the shouting on stage, this is a work that quietly ensures we take seriously the questions it’s asking – about how to be good.

The play is calmer, less surreal, than Adly Guirgis’ other works seen in London. It’s tempting to say it feels more grown up, as that’s clearly one of the themes here; the talk of prayers and pharmaceuticals both play a part in questioning responsibility and relationships. Jackie and Ralph are just young men, with more than enough faults and few excuses. But Jackie has a heart and the potential for goodness that feels realistic and makes this play an unusually sharp comedy.

Until 20 August 2015

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Mark Douet

2015

“Communicating Doors” at the Menier Chocolate Factory

If anyone can deal with that tricksy genre – the comedy thriller – it’s playwright Alan Ayckbourn. And as if combining chuckles with tension weren’t enough, this sci-fi story of murder and time travel challenges the cerebellum as well. As Lindsey Posner’s studied revival of the 1994 play shows, Ayckbourn comes as close as anyone can to cracking such an ambitious juggling act.

As you’d expect, there’s plenty of running around rooms, the twist being that it’s one hotel suite at three different times. And while doors aren’t slammed, creeping around between the decades, with the threat of bumping into a murderer, provides a couple of good jumps. There’s a dominatrix call girl for laughs and an officious security guard (nicely paced by Matthew Cottle). Be patient with the comedy, as it gets stronger in the second half.

It’s fitting that only the women in the story can use the eponymous portals. Ayckbourn has written three fine roles for women that mischievously outshine the play’s male characters. The ruthless Reece (Robert Portal) and his henchman Julian (David Bamber) manage to be threatening, with Bamber’s toupee and dastardly laugh deserving their own credit in the programme, but it’s the women – working out time travel and taking control – that make the show.

Rachel Tucker’s tart-with-a-heart manages to be believably frightened and feisty by turns. Lucy Briggs-Owen and Imogen Stubbs play Harold’s former wives, both murdered, with suitable flashback appeal. Stubbs is particularly strong at carrying the scenario, with a no-nonsense approach aiding the surprisingly credible edge of this entertaining evening.

Until 27 June 2015

www.menierchocolatefactory.com

Photo by Manuel Harlan

2015

“Hang” at the Royal Court

I am confident all would agree that debbie tucker green’s new play for the Royal Court is a powerful one. The play’s force comes from the performances and its poetry. The acting and dialogue are of such a high standard you can see those reviewers’ stars mounting up before your eyes. But what feels very much an intellectual exercise doesn’t quite deliver: pointless is too strong a word to use about such a quality piece, but don’t expect anything persuasive behind this focused examination of a dilemma.

The scenario is simple yet tense: the victim of a crime gets to decide the method of executing the perpetrator. But there are no arguments about the death penalty, rather, a bureaucratic meeting with officials who obsessively follow procedures to enact the execution. Claire Rushbrook and Shane Zaza are well studied in these roles, dealing with the economy of the writing and creating a comedy of compromises. It’s a pity that these well-meaning characters are a little too ineffectual and ill prepared, with the “transparency” they aim for becoming one of many heavy ironies.

The struggle to vocalise trauma is painfully acknowledged; nobody has “the words, the stomach, the imagination” to empathise with the carefully undisclosed crime discussed. Marianne Jean-Baptiste’s performance as the articulate victim given a potent voice is stunning, creating a depiction of pain shocking in its distance from platitudes. tucker green’s direction is taut as a bow but the explorations of revenge, justice and the systems we rely on to deliver the law don’t satisfy. It’s a puzzle to have no real target aimed at with such skill.

Until 18 July 2015

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Stephen Cummiskey

2015

“The Legacy” at the Hope Theatre

Reminiscent of David Mamet’s work, Angela Clarke’s new play, The Legacy, is strong and exciting writing. A simple story of two sisters, reunited for the reading of their father’s will, there’s a dark secret to be revealed in this tightly constructed, character-driven drama, which is well observed and full of tension.

The cast gives careful performances, each character ripening from an instantly recognisable acquaintance into a thought-provoking, well-realised figure. Lucinda Westcar’s Rebecca has a frozen compliance with her suburban existence that becomes febrile when events threaten her Farrow & Ball lifestyle. Her successful husband Adam is easy to dislike, but Jim Mannering gives him an angry edge that, disconcertingly, invites sympathy. As a depiction of that infamous ‘squeezed middle’, the couple makes you stop and think about this much derided demographic. Finally, while I trust we’d all agree with prodigal activist Esther’s politics, Claira Watson Parr’s calm and clever performance shows how irritating the character might be and plays with suspicions we might have about her motivations.

It’s the turbulent ride of repulsion and sympathy for these characters, so deftly handled by director Michael Beigel, which impresses most. Along with expertly placed plot reveals, there’s a respect for the audience’s intelligence that engenders a mutual respect. Clarke raises serious feminist issues, with potential to expand into a longer piece, creating a trio of characters I sincerely hope to meet again in another theatre for a longer run.

Until 13 June 2015

www.thehopetheatre.com

Photo by Ben Broomfield

2015

“Fanny & Stella” at the Above The Stag Theatre

A true story that’s a gift to a dramatist, Victorian transvestites Ernest Boulton and William Park, with their inspiring friendship, risqué love affairs and dangerous brush with the law, are truly fascinating. Playwright Glenn Chandler’s masterstroke is to have the characters’ eponymous drag personas present their own story in a music-hall style that makes for great entertainment.

Charles Miller’s accompanying Victoriana songs are a wicked delight that I’d have like to have heard more of. And the whole cast is superb. Phil Sealey, whose character represents the manager of the venue uneasily hosting Fanny and Stella’s performance, takes on numerous roles in the retelling of their shocking story. Along with the ladies’ attempts to outshine each other, there’s a faux improvised humour that adds charm as well as laughter. As for the rest of the many jokes, some gags positively creak and the plentiful innuendo isn’t exactly sophisticated, but it’s all great fun.

While the history forms an effective questioning of Victorian attitudes, there’s a purposefully contemporary feel to the show, seen most clearly in the two leads. Robert Jeffery and Marc Gee Finch, in the title roles, are both fine performers, great with the songs and even better with the show’s bitching – sorry, ladies, I daren’t pick a favourite. Camping it up for all their worth, yet capable of providing space for more sombre moments, it’s always funny to see characters milking applause when they are so clearly already commanding the spotlight.

The second half, dealing with Fanny and Stella’s scandalous trial and cruel imprisonment, drops off a little. There’s a touch of preaching to the choir and wish fulfilment – I am not convinced the story shows an early ‘victory’ over prejudice – but the show knows its audience; as the UK’s only full-time professional LGBT theatre, receiving no public subsidy, Above The Stag can’t afford not to. It’s a tribute to the show’s strength that I think the company is selling itself short. I’d love to see the show in a bigger venue (what about Wilton’s Music Hall?) and believe Fanny and Stella have the potential to appeal to all – they deserve to be massive stars.

Until 14 June 2015

www.abovethestag.com

2015

“Heartbreak Hotel” at The Jetty

A stay at the Heartbreak Hotel will be a disappointment for those who love the current trend for immersive theatre. The show is really only immersive if your definition of such is shuffling around a pre-fab cluttered with bric-a-brac. And flagging the play as ‘unique’ only serves to highlight that other theatre companies have used real hotels far more effectively. The performers’ valiant attempts at interaction simply feel like fillers between sketches.

There’s nothing wrong with Sam Curtis-Lindsay’s direction of the actual scenes, which are neatly presented and well acted, especially by Will Harrison-Wallace, as the hotel’s owner, and Natalia Campbell as an “open and honest” dominatrix who uses one of the rooms. But there’s a frustrating lack of coherence. Is this a conventional domestic drama, albeit one that is a little dull? Or are there pretentions to make it some kind of memory play? Neither element is explored and the inspiration for a lot of the staging isn’t that original.

Something, too, has gone awry with the play’s script, possibly edited into incomprehension, with established characters disappearing and mooted ideas quickly abandoned. The weakest element is a feeble satire based on a twisted self-help programme called A.C.H.E. – Achieving Creative Heartfelt Experience. The idea is thin enough to be insulting but hasn’t got off the ground before everyone is traipsed up to the roof (which admittedly has a lovely view) for a “keynote speech” from its charisma-less developer. We have been given only a “glimpse” of the project, we didn’t need telling that, but this is a recruitment drive that I don’t think anyone should check-in for.

Until 30 August 2015

www.heartbreakhoteljetty.com

Photo by Ben Hughes

2015

“Oresteia” at the Almeida Theatre

A sterling start to the Almeida’s Greek season, Robert Icke’s new version of the Oresteia is a mammoth achievement, presenting all three plays in one spirited and, at times, gruelling evening, where the trilogy’s themes of society and justice come alive in a stirring, contemporary fashion.

Agamemnon comes first, the king powerfully portrayed by Angus Wright as a politician, military leader and man of faith, who sacrifices his daughter Iphigenia before setting out for Troy. The murder occurs onstage, which some will find objectionable in itself, but for me the clinical approach of feeding the young actress some pills makes the scene so brutal I cannot say I fully support the decision to show it.

After a break that is strictly timed by a countdown on television screens, Clytemnestra comes to the fore. Consummately controlled, plotting to kill her husband as revenge, Lia Williams is mesmerising in the role, her exclamation that “the war came home” emphasising the consequences of battle abroad on the families left behind.

For the second play, The Libation Bearer, we see Orestes avenge his father by killing his mother. Previously presented as undergoing therapy, he joins forces with his sister Electra, with Jessica Brown Findlay making a forceful stage debut, the highlight of which forms a meditation on mourning. The fate of Electra later brings a penny-drops-twist from Icke that doesn’t deserve a plot spoiler.

The Eumenides sees the judgment upon Orestes for his matricide. Wright and Williams, reappearing as legal council, aid high emotions, and issues of gender are satisfyingly forefronted. But the scene rests too heavily on Luke Thompson’s fraught performance in the title role. At least those countdowns make sense – it wasn’t just to hurry people’s G&Ts – we have been watching a re-enactment in real-time. Instead of being treated, Orestes was being cross-examined.

It’s possible the production is too stylish for its own good. Hildegard Bechtler’s design, with its ghostly sliding glass that becomes opaque, looks so great that, combined with the moody background soundtrack, it becomes slightly distracting. And having live recordings played back onto screens may illustrate the public nature of this family, but it’s becoming a bit of a theatrical gimmick.

Reservations are small compared with the scale of Icke’s accomplishment. The dialogue is modern and easy to follow, with references to Whitman and even G&S. Icke is obsessive about retelling these stories, which justifies the liberties he has taken but also aids the coherence of his production; the omnipresent reiteration of concerns for signs, stories and interpretation is clear, convincing and engaging.

Until 18 July 2015

www.almedia.co.uk

Photo by Manuel Harlan