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“Two Into One” at the Menier Chocolate Factory

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Ray Cooney’s 1984 farce Two Into One opened last night at the Menier Chocolate Factory, and it’s an exercise in experience and skill. Cooney directs and stars in his own work, a revival of one of his many successful plays, drawing intelligently on the long tradition of British bawdiness and playing with it to perfection.

Two afternoon affairs in a hotel are complicated since they occur in adjacent rooms. You can hear the doors slamming already can’t you? And they do so with satisfying thuds in Julie Godfrey’s set (I’ve lived in less sturdy flats). The lies surrounding the extra-marital mayhem spiral into the surreal, everyone takes their clothes off and nobody understands one another.

Setting the hotel next to Parliament, packed with politicians and civil servants to make fun of, adds to the laughs. Joking with sexuality as well as sex by introducing a misunderstanding about an affair with a tea boy from the Foreign Office, possibly made the work seem topical once. Now mention of “poofs” seems almost quaint. Unashamedly 1980s, there’s a nostalgic appeal that suits the humour.

In farce it’s the complications and extravagance rather than originality that make you laugh and there’s a comfy side to the genre that this show has in spades. Cooney knows what he’s doing – relax, enjoy yourself – and there’s a remarkable sense of confidence from this experienced cast. Michael Praed plays one of those slimy Tory MPs who characterised the 1980s, Nick Wilton is endearing as his bowler-hatted PPS and Jeffrey Holland plays the hotel manager marvellously. Best of all, the gorgeous Josefina Gabrielle, setting pulses racing in her ‘naughty nightie’, times not just every line, but every move, impeccably – the star of the night in a play full of stars.

Until 26 April 2014

www.menierchocolatefactory.com

Photo by Catherine Ashmore

Written 20 March 2014 for The London Magazine

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“Urinetown” at the St James Theatre

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Finally receiving its London premiere 13 years after it was such a success on Broadway, Urinetown The Musical opened this week at the St. James Theatre. The dystopian satire, by Mark Hollmann and Greg Kotis, earned a host of awards in the States. Although it struck me as strangely dated, a standing ovation at the performance I attended makes it clear that there’s an audience desperate to go.

The unprepossessing premise is that an ecological disaster has resulted in a world where people pay to pee. There’s surprisingly little toilet humour actually. Instead it’s a satire on politics and the musical form itself. I say it’s old fashioned since the mischief and the tastelessness now seem predictable, but the second act provides some memorable musical numbers and it’s always nice to see a musical trying a little bit of politics.

There’s certainly nothing wrong with the production – indeed it makes the show worth spending your pennies to see. Jamie Lloyd’s direction is deft and dark, Soutra Gilmour’s design crying out for a West End transfer and the performances from a top rate cast are strong.

Urine Town
Jonathan Slinger

Jonathan Slinger is a revelation as the narrator and police officer Lockstock, ably abetted by Adam Pearce as officer Barrell. Police and politicians are merely the henchmen of business baddy Cladwell, performed archly by Simon Paisley Day, who is ultimately willing to sacrifice his daughter Hope, played by Rosanna Hyland. Hyland is joined by Richard Fleeshman, whose character Bobby Strong leads a Les Mis-style rebellion (wearing a pre-shrunk T-shirt despite the water shortage), both young leads look the part and sound great. Stealing the show, though, is the excellent Jenna Russell, who gives such a spirited performance as Mrs Pennywise she stops you thinking she’s wasted in the role.

As the characters’ names will have indicated, and direct addresses to the audience make clear, Urinetown is all very knowing. The conventions of musicals are prodded mercilessly, and this joke, though performed well, tires. Maybe the final irony is that the show shoots itself in the foot – if it doesn’t take the genre seriously then why should we? It’s clever, but not that funny and sacrifices serious points. After all, it’s difficult to say that much with your tongue in your cheek all the time.

Until 3 May 2014

www.stjamestheatre.co.uk

Photos by Johan Persson

Written 13 March 2014 for The London Magazine

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“King Lear” at the Cockpit Theatre

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Last night’s press evening for the Darker Purpose Theatre Company’s King Lear was filled with emotion. It’s a collaboration between young director Lewis Reynolds and seasoned RSC pro David Ryall in the lead role. Sadly, a course of chemotherapy has left the well-respected actor’s memory so affected that he carried a copy of the text as an aid.

Ill health has not diminished Ryall’s commanding stage presence or the wonderful timbre of his voice but it seems unfair to review a performance that was clearly – no matter how brave and generous – an effort. Nonetheless, Reynold’s intelligent production offers much to the discerning theatregoer. The direction is considered and confident and handles staging in the round particularly well. It’s also remarkably calm and quiet, serving as an interesting comparison with the National Theatre’s current blockbuster show.

Reynold’s emphasis is on the “madmen and fools” of the play, and Ryan Wichert stands out as a spirited fool, putting a megaphone to great use, while Dominic Kelly gives a sterling performance as his Edgar takes on the persona of Poor Tom. Tension between these two roles is brought out and it was one of the few productions in which I actually missed the fool after his sudden departure.

King Lear at The Cockpit Theatre
Nikki Leigh Scott and Ian Hallard

Although not all of the performances are as even as might be wished, there’s good work from the wicked sisters Goneril and Regan, with Wendy Morgan developing her role nicely and Nikki Leigh Scott joined in convincing villainy by Ian Hallard as Cornwall.

The production also has the coup of seeing Ryall joined by two of his daughters. Imogen Ryall appears in the small role of the Doctor and Charlie Ryall is Cordelia. Both give understated performances in keeping with the tone of the evening – and powerful as a result. Concern for their father’s health has an extra, unwished for, charge given the circumstances. Sincere wishes for Mr Ryall’s quick recovery.

Until 29 March 2014

www.thecockpit.org.uk

Photos by Robert Workman

Written 12 March 2014 for The London Magazine

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“Do I Hear a Waltz?” at the Park Theatre

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The Park Theatre’s first musical opened last night with the north London venue handing over to the Charles Court company for a production of Do I Hear a Waltz? It’s a real collector’s piece for musical theatre obsessives, being a one-off collaboration between Richard Rodgers and Stephen Sondheim that is seldom performed.

Rodgers and Sondheim make a fascinating combination. Sondheim’s lyrics bring wit and intelligence to Arthur Laurents’ book, based on his own play, while Rodgers’ ravishing score rises to the challenges of the younger artist and provides glorious tunes. Strangely, put together they often sound odd – a mix of the “ridiculous and the sublime” – a lyric that sums up the show and that I am sure we are supposed to take away with us.

A sensitive secretary visiting Venice has a holiday romance that she finds complicated, even though what’s on offer is simple. Commitment isn’t on the mind of the married antiques dealer she meets, but their shared sense of melancholy gives the whole show a kind of magic, despite its pragmatic approach to affairs of the heart. Added observations about Americans abroad and Italians at home are wry, if a touch too elaborated, and the scenario is impressively novel. But, in general, the premise is too slim to really grab you.

The production itself makes the best of things. There’s a fine performance from Rebecca Seale in the demanding lead role and Philip Lee sounds lovely as the charming shopkeeper looking to add to the itinerary of her holiday. Best value comes from the signora who runs the pensione in which the action takes place, with Rosie Strobel giving the “very, very” character her all. The bare staging and musical accompaniment from just piano and percussion reflect a chamber music feel, but I can’t help wondering what a fuller sound would have been like, as some numbers seem to cry out for it.

Musical director David Eaton has done a wonderful job and clearly knows his stuff but it’s speculation about the piece that will probably excite the aficionado – I suspect it’s more of a curiosity to collect than something that might cross over to a bigger audience.

Until 30 March 2014

www.parktheatre.co.uk

Photo by Bill Knight

Written 7 March 2014 for The London Magazine

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“Good People” at Hampstead Theatre

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Another hit American play opened at the Hampstead Theatre last night. Following the run of Gina Gionfriddo’s Rapture, Blister, Burn Ed Hall’s theatre brings an award-winning play across the pond again, with Good People by David Lindsay-Abaire.

Impeccably directed by Jonathan Kent, with a superb set from Hildegard Bechtler, the play is about a working-class woman in South Boston. A story of the recent financial recession, and good old-fashioned class strife, it’s full of intelligent belly laughs.

I can’t imagine Imelda Staunton took long to say yes to the role of Margaret, who is with us in every scene. A great actress at the top of her game, Staunton slips seamlessly into this is fascinating and fantastic character. Recently laid off work, with a disabled daughter to support, Margaret is sharp as a knife and deeply human, endearing us to her with her enduring hope and her disbelief about how the other half lives.

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Angel Coulby

The return to Boston of an ex-boyfriend – who is quite literally the one that got away – gives rise to two fantastic scenes of comedy and confrontation. As a ‘Southie’ from the same depressed background as Margaret, now made good as a doctor, Lloyd Owen provides a suitable spar to Staunton’s talents as the now successful man taunted for being “lace-curtain Irish”. And there’s a lovely performance from Angel Coulby as his wife. The tension and the comedy mount wonderfully as Lindsay-Abaire throws race, gender and questions of inequality into the mix.

The play is too fleeting, indeed fast-paced, to give any big theme its real dues; but if it’s thoughts you want provoking this is dynamite stuff for debate. The banter is brave and biting, while Margaret’s true desperation and the fact we continue to hope she really is one of those ‘good people’ give it heart as well as humour. The story is resolved in a courageously short epilogue held in a bingo hall, which shows what a fine plotter Lindsay-Abaire is. The play certainly deserves a full house.

Until 5 April 2014

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photo by Johan Persson

Written 6 March 2014 for The London Magazine

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“The Knight of the Burning Pestle” at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse

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The second production at Shakespeare’s Globe’s Wanamaker Playhouse is Francis Beaumont’s The Knight of the Burning Pestle. Written in or around 1607, if you haven’t heard of the play, its startling post-modernity will blow you away. For those already in the know this is a clear, clever choice for the new theatre that shows it off to its very best. And just in case you aren’t interested in literary history, it’s also a cracking night out that will have you in fits of laughter.

Taking their seats in the pit two citizens, played by Phil Daniels and Pauline McLynn, take objection to the entertainment on offer. “Something troublesome” in their ignorance of the performing arts, they’re the first source of fun. One couple you don’t mind making a noise in the theatre, offering around grapes and sweets, a restrained performance from Daniels allows McLynn’s to shine as the adorable, if occasionally blood thirsty, matron who invites us all to her house for a drink afterwards.

Commandeering the stage the stage, they want something that praises their profession and enlist their apprentice Rafe (endearingly portrayed by Matthew Needham) to take on a chivalrous role. And since they are grocers he becomes the titular Knight of the Burning Pestle. Beaumont’s satire on chivalric romances could easily be niche, but director Adele Thomas uses great comic performances from Dennis Herdman and Dean Nolan, co-opted as his squire and dwarf, to get the giggles; Pythonesque touches and acrobatic slapstick – anything and everything to make you laugh.

At the same time, the players valiantly continue the original play, about a London merchant. Another contemporary satire, its critique of greed in the city is sure to hit home today. A story line about an apprentice in love with his avaricious master’s daughter, is hammed up marvellously by the talented John Dougall and the superb Sarah MacRae. Their duet in song is a real highlight of the night. All the interruptions create an improvised feel full of fun, and frequent musical intervals add to the jolly atmosphere.

Believe it or not, with all this going on, there’s another important theme within The Knight of the Burning Pestle. Again commented on by the citizens, again brought out marvellously by Thomas: the character of Merrythought, performed commendably by Paul Rider, is a mysterious figure of mis-rule, anarchy even, dedicated only to mirth. Thomas identifies this as the play’s keynote and makes it a deep, sonorous one. Remarkable musical numbers are just one element of using the new playhouse at its best; Thomas is like a child with a new toy – an entirely appropriate way of dealing with this text. A fascinating play fantastically directed.

Until 30 March 2014

www.shakespearesglobe.com

Photo by Alastair Muir

Written 28 February 2014 for The London Magazine

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“The Full Monty” at the Noël Coward Theatre

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Already a triumph in its hometown of Sheffield, The Full Monty received its London premiere last night. Adapted by Simon Beaufoy from his own hugely successful 1997 screenplay, this is yet another safe bet for a West End hit. It’s all about auditions at the moment, and this well-loved story of unemployed steel workers who decide to become strippers deftly uses rehearsals and try-out tribulations to build to the (quite literal) denouement. It’s so well done, in fact, that any cynicism is blown away: this is a terrifically fun show with a big heart that London should love.

On a technical level, The Full Monty is a masterclass in direction from Daniel Evans. He’s always a treat to see on stage as an actor and, with a string of achievements as artistic director at Sheffield Theatres, he has firmly established his talents behind the scenes as well. Here he excels, pacing the show perfectly, balancing its humour with emotional impact.

Evans has secured superb performances from his talented cast. Kenny Doughty leads as charismatic lad-about-town Gaz, desperate for cash to pay maintenance so he can see his son. Roger Morlidge gives a sensitive performance as his cumbersome best friend, and there’s a cracking cameo from Rachel Lumberg as the latter’s wife. Their former foreman-turned-choreographer is played with satisfyingly dryness by Simon Rousse, the only Conservative voter in sight. To suit broader tastes there’s fine work from Sidney Cole, Craig Gazey and Kieran O’Brien, who is accompanied by a gasp-worthy prosthetic addition.

Of course it’s crude – it’s about strippers after all – and some jokes show their age. A couple of scenes carried over from the film are weak, simply feeding a desire to see the movie recreated on stage. More impressive are new touches; an expanded exploration of a gay relationship and the use of Robert Jones’ nimble set, which sees cranes, girders and sparking machinery used to great effect.

The laughs are plentiful but, beyond the giggles, Evans uses Beaufoy’s scenario to explore all manner of sensitive issues, from gender roles to unemployment. This celebration of men of all shapes and sizes is a real make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry treat with plenty to think about. In fact, it’s a refreshing blast of Northern wind.

Until 14 June 2014

Photo by Hugo Glendinning

Written 26 February 2014 for The London Magazine

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“The Commitments” at the Palace Theatre

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The Commitments isn’t the kind of show that recommends itself to reviewers – I can’t think of a more lamentable coupling than a jukebox musical riding on the tails on a popular film. But the critics have been kind. And the public has already voted with its feet. The Commitments is now booking until September this year.

Roddy Doyle’s book (the film came in 1991) is set on a council estate in Dublin well before any talk of Celtic Tigers. A group of locals form a band and, well, that’s it, really. There’s plenty of class-consciousness and the generally inspiring idea is that music changes lives, but very little else.

It’s no small achievement that director Jamie Lloyd manages to mask how thin the whole thing is and make it entertaining. Working at a terrific pace, he brings out plenty of humour and utilises Soutra Gilmour’s stunning set so that the whole thing has a slick West End feel.

And the performances will win you over. Denis Grindel has great stage presence as the band’s instigator and manager – you really believe he could get this thing going. Killian Donnelly gives a tremendous performance as Deco, the most naturally accomplished performer, with the arrogance to match. Joined by a host of talented others, including Sarah O’Connor, Stephanie McKeon and Jessica Cervi, who all sound great, and the band’s skinhead bouncer (Joe Woolmer), who gets the biggest laughs. It’s an achievement for such a large cast to individuate themselves.

As billed, The Commitments is hard working and there’s plenty of noise and action, with lots of crude gags that are more hit than miss, even if the ratio is a close call. Quickly into the second half any idea of a story is abandoned in favour of a concert. It seems an honest move that could have saved everyone a lot of trouble if adopted from the start. From hereon in, if soul music is your thing, you are bound to join in the fun.

Booking until 19 April 2015

http://thecommitments.london

Written 23 February 2014 for The London Magazine

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“A Taste of Honey” at the National Theatre

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Having started the year with a fantastic production of King Lear, the National Theatre has a second must-see show in as many months. The revival of Shelagh Delaney’s A Taste of Honey is the finest work from director Bijan Sheibani that I’ve seen. This important and influential play, as much about dreams and aspirations as any grim-up-north reality, is given its due in a deft production that subtly injects moments of fancy, revealing the rich inner lives of its poverty-stricken characters. Sheibani indicates, rather than shouts, how shocking Delaney’s 1958 play must have been when first shown.

The performances are superb. Kate O’Flynn takes the role of Jo, surely one of the most fascinating parts for a young actress (and famously written when Delaney herself was only 19). She brings out the ‘ill-starred’ schoolgirl’s mercurial quality; spotlighting her innocence, and the worldly wisdom that comes with her upbringing. While dealing with her mother’s fancy man, her own brief affair with a black sailor and then homemaking, while pregnant, with gay friend Geoffrey, O’Flynn is captivating. Meanwhile, the male supporting cast – Dean Lennox Kelly, Eric Kofi Abrefa and Harry Hepple – convince while avoiding sensationalism.

But it’s Lesley Sharp’s performance as Jo’s mother Helen that steals the show. The role is presented as hugely overblown – exaggerated; outrageous; camp in its truest meaning – and the result is remarkably rich. With eyes and hips rolling like Mae West, Sharp makes Helen sexy (something Dora Bryan, for all her skill, didn’t attempt in the 1961 film). Seen as a virile middle-aged woman, her selfishness makes more sense. And she’s funny – ferociously so. The original Broadway cast of the show had Angela Lansbury in the role, and it would be lovely if she could catch Sharp’s performance while in rehearsals for Blythe Spirit (and even better to know what she thinks of it).

Delaney’s text still startles. Poetic and provocative after all these years, it now appears more direct, and more focused, than those by her equally angry contemporaries. Delaney wrote her ground breaking ‘minority’ characters with striking maturity, and her political aims remain inspiring. While you might admire works by Arnold Wesker and John Osborne from a similar era, you fall in love with A Taste of Honey and Delaney. She should take the final bow.

Until 11 May 2014

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Marc Brenner

Written 20 February 2014 for The London Magazine

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“The Final Revelation of Sherlock Holmes” at the Pleasance Theatre

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The world’s most famous Londoner has yet another incarnation in Tim Norton’s The Final Revelation of Sherlock Holmes, which opened at the Pleasance Theatre last night. A murder mystery, especially one connecting itself with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, is surely a safe bet for a good night out and this one should help satisfy the insatiable appetites of Sherlockologists.

The action takes place in 1930 – Holmes is often a happy time traveller – and the characters are depicted with a familiarity that will please an audience in the know. Holmes and Watson are an odd couple, after all, and this old marriage-of-sorts is a ripe topic for gentle humour. It’s all done with a lot of affection and, if you suspect the script could do with some trimming, this is hardly a major crime – time spent with old friends is never wasted. The first twist: Holmes and Watson are in debt, deserted by Mrs Hudson and troubled by the prestige of their own reputations.

Holmes’ drug addiction is out of control and Watson has to scrape around the caseload history to interest The Strand in a story. A touch predictable, even in its ironic manner, but the show is carried off in style by its two performers. Nico Lennon takes the lead, undaunted by the heritage of Holmes (or, indeed, the Cumberbatch reincarnation), bringing an accomplished physicality to the role. James McGregor’s Watson is too much in the Nigel Bruce mould for my taste – but this is the stuff of after-show discussions – he’s an amiable stage presence who carries some laboured lines.

As for the mystery… that final revelation… from the greatest detective ever… the finest mind solving the perfect crime so long speculated over: well Norton knows that the build-up is the big thing. With some satisfied chuckles from the audience as the rather post-modern penny drops, you can tell he’s hit home. There’s a clue for aficionados in this review by the way. And if that gets you thinking, you’ll want to go and join in the game.

Until 2 March 2014
www.pleasance.co.uk
Photo by Daniel Swerdlow
Written 13 February 2014 for The London Magazine