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

2015

“Death of a Salesman” at the Noël Coward Theatre

Gregory Doran’s revival of Arthur Miller’s Death Of A Salesman fully justifies the director’s claim that this is the greatest American play of the 20th century. Although rooted in post-war US society, Miller’s family tragedy and critique of capitalism transcends time and place. Perhaps recent economic woes make this powerful play freshly pertinent: the loss of job security for long-serving salesman Willy Loman rings alarm bells for us all. And perhaps, too – aided by our increased awareness of dementia – Willy’s tragic decline has added poignancy. Just as likely, the play is simply a masterpiece.

Antony Sher is confident and controlled in the lead role. Clearly passionate about the part, Sher projects an intensity that enfolds you. It’s an exceptionally subtle and intelligent delivery: for all Willy’s faults, we see why his family loves him, he isn’t made an underdog and there are no excuses for his behaviour – but he still retains our sympathy. Willy’s confidence seesaws constantly, moments of self-doubt are carefully hinted at. When Willy is presented with the gas pipe he plans to kill himself with, Sher’s whole body becomes frozen. It’s a tremendous theatrical moment.

Backed by Harriet Walter as Willy’s wife, with Alex Hassell and Sam Marks as his sons, the family struggles with the delusions of success and excess of optimism that construct their dreams. This is an unbeatable quartet of performances. The fight to see facts instead of fantasy is a relentless focus. Willy’s memories, possibly false, presented as the consequence of his age and misfortune, slide into the action dynamically. The downward spiral of the whole family in the second half is gut-wrenching and miraculously suspense-filled. We can all predict what’s coming but Doran makes it riveting, obeying the play’s demand that “attention must be paid”.

Until 18 July 2015

www.rsc.org.uk

Photo by Ellie Kurttz

2015

“The Railway Children” at the King’s Cross Theatre

Boasting a purpose-built theatre and a real-life steam train, York Theatre Royal’s adaptation of E Nesbit’s children’s classic is an extravagant family treat. Even the waiting area is a delight – a retro theme-park-style refreshments room that serves as a place for youngsters to let off steam. There’s no bad behaviour inside, though. I can report that this clever adaptation is a hit with the kids.

The work of Mike Kenny, the show isn’t just a question of nostalgia – and a big tick for that. The story of three youngsters, whose father mysteriously goes away after a visit from some policemen, forced into poverty and a move to the country, is told with clarity. Damian Cruden’s direction uses the railway platforms and moving stages on the tracks to great effect: the cast is constantly on the move.

There’s a lot of waving.

It must be dispiriting for any performer to be upstaged by a steam train, but it has to be admitted that the locomotive is impressive. Nonetheless, Serena Manteghi, Jack Hardwick and Louise Calf play the children skilfully. They engage their audience conscientiously and have stronger roles than the adults in the piece.

To be fair, the humour is very much aimed at children. There’s little effort to create a wider appeal – unusual nowadays – but it’s a consistently applied decision that pays dividends. A room full of attentive under-tens is not to be underestimated and a calculated price worth paying for leaving adults a little restless at times.

www.railwaychildrenlondon.com

Until 8 January 2017

2015

“The Beaux’ Stratagem” at the National Theatre

A Restoration comedy of love and manners, so steeped in cynicism that its heroes plot to marry for money, George Farquhar’s classic is a snapshot of 18th-century society that brims with life and adventure. Replete with desperate gentlemen, crooked innkeepers and comedy highwaymen, Simon Godwin’s revival feels credible and fresh.

Samuel Barnett and Geoffrey Streatfeild make appealing leads as Aimwell and Archer – the “marksmen” out to hunt rich women. Pippa Bennett-Warner and Susannah Fielding are similarly engaging as their love interests. Fielding carries the part of the miserably married Mrs Sullen well – tricky in a production that seems extravagantly enamoured of her. Mrs Sullen is pivotal, yes, and Fielding embodies her with sense and sensuality, but the production halts, shouting “This is important” so loudly that it becomes patronising.

Jpeg 16. Geoffrey Streatfeild (Archer) and Samuel Barnett (Aimwell)_The Beaux' Stratagem_credit Manuel Harlan
Geoffrey Streatfeild as Archer and Samuel Barnett as Aimwell

There are some great insults in The Beaux’ Strategem: I look forward to being able to use “prostrate engineer”. And Farquhar’s similes are superb, describing marriage as “two carcasses joined unnaturally together”. The cast, along with music, provide nice comic touches, but Godwin blunts the play’s momentum: smaller parts aren’t tamed enough and the initially impressive set by Lizzie Clachan becomes cumbersome.

There’s a great swashbuckling fight where we see how Archer “fights, loves, and banters, all in a breath” and for a moment the show lifts off. But we’re back to down to earth, with added sentimentality, as our heroes become disarmed by love. Maybe it’s Godwin’s ponderous build-up to these unexpected changes of heart that has slowed things down? If there is a strategy here, it has failed. The whole show feels too… thorough. That should be praise, but a lack of spirit and spontaneity means that the production just isn’t funny enough.

Until 20 September 2015

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Manuel Harlan

2015

“Crouch, Touch, Pause, Engage” at the Arcola Theatre

The life of Welsh rugby star Gareth Thomas, including his well-publicised struggle with his sexuality, makes for compelling drama. There’s a danger, though, that it might interest rugger fans more than anyone else. Here is where Robin Soans’ play, based on Thomas’ life so far, first scores: far more than a biography, or a work about sport, Crouch, Touch, Pause, Engage is ambitiously expanded into a big, bold play. Full of intelligence and power, it lives up to its verb scrum of a title.

Working with Thomas, there’s a searing sense of honesty to the piece. The player is a hero because of his sporting status and charity work, but he is movingly portrayed as human and hurt. That the play isn’t a star vehicle is enforced by having all six cast members, male and female, don a jersey and take the leading role at some point. The casting works surprisingly well, although predictably the younger men, Rhys ap William and Daniel Hawksford, who also ably double as Thomas’ father and best friend, have the edge.

Expanding the play, Thomas’ story is told in tandem with that of a troubled young girl, also from Bridgend, in Wales. In a stunning performance from Lauren Roberts, Darcey’s story of self-abuse and attempts at suicide emphasises the admirable unsentimentality that marks the piece. Connecting these two very different locals, the play becomes a bullish kind of community theatre, rooted in geography and exploring politics in the punchy manner that director Max Stafford-Clark excels at. With the production ending a UK tour here in London, it’s stirring to know it has deservedly been offered over the country.

Until 20 June 2015

www.arcolatheatre.com

Photo by Robert Workman

2015

“Les Misérables” at the Queen’s Theatre

For a lot of Londoners, Les Mis is as much a landmark as a musical. Something that’s just there: a show seen long ago and now for tourists. The statistics about its success are on the dot matrix outside the Queen’s Theatre – and they are impressive. But the real phenomenon is how, despite knowing the story and songs, having seen the film and bought the t-shirt, Les Mis moves as much as ever.

Speculation about the show’s success has existed since it surprised critics and started selling tickets. Never forget how crazy adapting Victor Hugo’s epic of post-revolutionary French history must have seemed. First up, the tale itself: a good old-fashioned yarn that’s sentimental and exciting. As for the telling – by Alain Boublil and Jean-Marc Natel – it doesn’t stop, with an impressive pace that belies the show’s three-hour duration.

Claude-Michel Schönberg’s music is big and best described as filmic. Though the many hits are worth waiting for, the score has a satisfying coherence. With leitmotifs that emphasise themes as well as characters, it builds emotion so effectively it borders on exploitative; pretty much the whole of the second act guarantees goose bumps. OK, I confess, I was teary before the interval.

Carrie Hope Fletcher as Eponine and Rob Houchen as Marius. Photo by Michael Le Poer Trench

The music demands massive voices and the current cast are superb. From the start the strength of the male chorus is hugely impressive. Both leads, Valjean and Javert, with their personal stories embodying a divide between law and justice, are given powerhouse performances from Peter Lockyer and David Thaxton. Looking to the younger characters, whose story culminates on the barricades of the June Rebellion in Paris, both Rob Houchen and Carrie Hope Fletcher are tremendous as Marius and Eponine. More tears I am afraid.

John Napier’s design is surprisingly simple; mostly a matter of smoke with David Hersey’s excellent lighting (and the revolving stage so brilliantly parodied in Forbidden Broadway). Directors Trevor Nunn and John Caird handle the crowd of a cast with exemplary skill, directing audience emotions as much as anything; the best example being ‘Empty Chairs At Empty Tables’ – Marius’ lament – which sees his martyred friends breathtakingly emerging into view.

Like any work of theatre, Les Mis can’t be frozen – a live crew makes it work. The cynical might see its success down to reputation – it’s a safe bet and visitors tick the ‘done that’ box. But believe me, nobody working the performance I saw was resting on any laurels. But the real key to the success is both simpler and more profound: Les Misérables moves you. It’s still one of the best theatre experiences around.

www.lesmis.com/uk

Main photos by Johan Persson

2015

“High Society” at the Old Vic

Here’s a bold claim: Maria Friedman’s production of High Society has more laughs than the much loved film it’s based on. More than an amusing trip down memory lane, the show is laugh out loud funny, making the most of Cole Porter’s hit-crammed score and the humour of Arthur Kopit’s book. Updating the original 1930s setting to match the movie’s 1956 date injects a rock and roll feel, making the piece energised and a whole lot sexier.

Admittedly there’s a somewhat slow start. The sound could be bolder and some characters take time to establish themselves. The initial preamble to the wedding of wealthy socialite Tracy Lord and her arriviste fiancé George Kittredge lacks tension, despite her ex-husband CK Dexter-Haven being around. It feels like we’re being served a good prosecco rather than the champagne that plays such a big part in the show.

But by the time I Love Paris is sung, by Tracy and her feisty young sister Dinah, to bemuse two gate-crashing journalists, we’re onto the real thing and laughing a lot. And after the interval the use of the Old Vic’s current in-the-round format is embraced. When the cast sing What A Swell Party, we really feel part of it – it’s a tremendous scene that makes you glad you’ve been invited. The finale also uses the space cleverly as Tracy announces that the wedding is off to the audience, who at this point double as the congregation.

Of course, we’re all happy Tracy ends up with the right man. Rupert Young makes a suitably charismatic CK, while it’s best not to think too much about the fate of the unfortunate George. Dinah and the rogue reporters, played superbly by Ellie Bamber, Jamie Parker and Annabel Scholey, are on our side to allay complicity in the snobbery.
Amongst such a talented cast it’s all the more remarkable that Kate Fleetwood’s Tracy stands out so much. Her sexy voice and stunning comic skills mean you daren’t take your eyes off her. And she looks fantastic in Tom Pye’s glamorous costume designs. I’m not classy enough myself to know the best brand of champagne, but whatever it is, it should serve as a metaphor for Fleetwood’s performance. And she deserves a jeroboam of the stuff.

Until 22 August 2015

www.oldvictheatre.com

Photo by Johan Persson

2015

“The Angry Brigade” at the Bush Theatre

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Playwright James Graham continues his hugely successful engagement with politics by looking at the history of 1970s anarchist bombers, The Angry Brigade. The first act opens on a grim basement room in which four young coppers are secretly tasked with investigating the new phenomenon of homegrown terrorism. Parallels with current concerns aren’t forced, and the authorities’ efforts are often comic, as the police loosen their ties and discover pot in an attempt to understand this new breed of criminal. Harry Melling and Lizzy Watts excel with a variety of roles: police, victims and suspects. But the act belongs to Mark Arends as the impassioned young detective Smith, whose performance is perfectly attuned to the writing’s clever drollery.

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Harry Melling and Pearl Chanda

After the humorous highs of the first act, the second act may slightly disappoint. Now with the Brigade, played by the same cast of four, the laughs are more guarded and there’s less period detail to poke fun at. Whatever you think of the politics, the ideas are presented (rather frighteningly) well. And the performances are full-bodied and intense, in particular those of Melling, again, and Pearl Chanda (as Anna Mendleson), whose fraught relationship provides a necessary emotional core to the section.

The temptation may be to see the play as split into two sides of the same story, both bravely sympathetic and boldly different. But The Angry Brigade is so meticulously written that parallels between the police and the protesters are developed with estimable precision. The crafted complexity of the script is highlighted by James Grieve’s direction and Lucy Osbornes’ design, which add a visceral, shock element to the dialogue – cast members slam filing cabinets to the ground to signify each bomb that goes off. No surprise, then, that this play feels like an explosive hit.

Until 13 June 2015

www.bushtheatre.co.uk

Photos by Manuel Harlan

2015

“In The Dead Of Night” at the Landor Theatre

Flushed with sweat and sex, Claudio Macor’s fringe oddity features a crazy assortment of love-struck prostitutes, male and female, in a crime-infested South American brothel.

The play’s billing as an uncensored film noir on stage is a bit of a red herring. This is a thriller pure and simple, with crooks, conspiracy and more than enough tango, twists and turns to tickle the fancy. While the tale is steady, it’s a shame the characterisation doesn’t match the plotting – back stories are fussily elaborated, and the dialogue might be sharper.

But there’s no doubting that the show is racy. The boyz in wet T-shirts (is spraying them someone’s job?) include handsome heroes Jordan Alexander and Matt Mella, while ravishing Susannah Allman and her suspenders guarantee fluttering pulses.

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Judith Paris and Susannah Allman

It may be ungallant to highlight the age of Judith Paris as the play’s fine femme fatale, but experience counts and her assured performance stands out amongst the young cast. Some roles cry out for older performers. But, despite flaws, the gorgeous players acquit themselves well, creating a stylised atmosphere full of camp appeal. So what if there’s more sex than suspense – this quirkily entertaining show wins with its brashness.

Until 16 May 2015

www.landortheatre.co.uk

Photos by PND Photography

2015

“The Merchant of Venice” at Shakespeare’s Globe

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Jonathan Munby’s new production will be memorable alone for marking Jonathan Pryce’s magnificent debut at Shakespeare’s Globe. Not to belittle Pryce’s achievement – it would have been a surprise if he wasn’t right for the role – the bigger story is that the whole production is of a consistently high standard, making it one of the best I’ve seen at the venue.

Munby embraces the play’s sometimes off-putting mix of comedy and tragedy. The broad humour that does so well at the Globe is present, most notably in Stefan Adegbola’s servant, Launcelot, going down a storm by pulling audience members on to the stage. And there are particularly fine comic performances from Dorothea Myer-Bennett and David Sturzaker, as Nerissa and Gratiano.

At the heart of it all are those most concerned with the theme of justice: the woman who masquerades as a judge, Rachel Pickup as a glacial Portia, and Dominic Mafham as the titular merchant Antonio, imperiled by the word of the law. These parts anchor the show and reveal the structure of Munby’s grasp.

As for the tragedy, no excuses are made for the text’s anti-Semitism, displayed in all its cruelty and violence. Spat at and assaulted, Pryce plays it straight, which all the more demands our attention. He is joined onstage by his own daughter Phoebe Pryce, playing Shylock’s child Jessica, who is full of passion and seemingly born for the role. Culminating in a heart-rending scene as she sings while her father is forced to be baptised, it’s a fine finale that confirms how brave this production is.

Until 7 June 2015

www.shakespearesglobe.com

Photos by Manuel Harlan