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“Once A Catholic” at the Tricycle Theatre

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A friend of mine used to describe himself as a ‘recovering’ Catholic. Indeed, the impact of the religion on those educated within the faith is well known. A revival of Mary J. O’Malley’s 1976 play, Once A Catholic, set in a convent school close to the Tricycle Theatre – where it opened last night – reminds us what fertile ground for comedy the subject is.

With director Kathy Burke in charge it’s no surprise that it’s all fantastic fun. The simple design has the feel of a sketch show, but Burke holds the drama together and gets the most out of her performers.

Three little maids are the focus. Amy Morgan and Katherine Rose Morley play two Marys, girls having a pretty good time. Their love interests, a Protestant teddy boy and a distinctly noncelibate upper-class toff who wants to be a priest, make great roles for Calum Callaghan and Oliver Coopersmith. Molly Logan playing, you guessed it, another Mary, heads the youngsters. Hopelessly naïve, her innocent questions, such as the nature of the sin of Sodom, disturb the teachers riotously.

The school staff are the best thing. There’s a dotty music teacher, played superbly by Richard Bremmer, and a thoroughly Irish priest, a role taken by Sean Campion. Both live up to every caricature and exploit them to the full. But really stealing the show are the nuns: another trio played by Clare Cathcart, Kate Lock and the scene-stealing Cecilia Noble.

Rich in nostalgia, Once A Catholic is set in 1957 and trades heavily on the innocence of the times to get laughs. The girls’ naivety makes it seem like ancient history and this distance also serves to lighten the casual racism and sexism of the times, sliding over some pretty seedy stuff. Humour is prioritised and Burke excels at this.

There’s little depth to the show, though it’s clear that ignorance is the thing to battle against. It’s a point the play makes well – with its educational setting and poor Mary’s dangerous unworldliness. But with all the fun, there’s little fight in the play; its sacrilegious lines don’t outrage and it lacks a good punch line. There are a lot of laughs to be had though. If it’s comedy you’re after, your prayers will be answered.

Until 18 January 2014

www.tricycle.co.uk

Written 28 November 2013 for The London Magazine

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“In the next room, or the vibrator play” at the St James Theatre

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Sarah Ruhl‘s In the Next Room, or The Vibrator Play received its London premiere at the St. James theatre last night. A clever take on the drawing room comedy, it doubles as an intelligent peek at love and sex, medicine and gender.

Set in the late 19th century, its saucy starting point is the historic practice of using electrical, ahem, instruments ‘down there’ to induce what were termed ‘paroxysms’. It’s guaranteed to generate giggles, but showing how medical discourse generated its own clientele (the procedure was to resolve the complaint of hysteria), a deeper discussion about relationships between the sexes comes to the fore.

This is another production to arrive at St James from the Ustinov Theatre in Bath. It confirms both venues as exciting locations. Directed with care by Laurence Boswell, the design from Simon Kenny focuses attention on that glorious new discovery – electricity – which revolutionised work and home. For the Givings, the couple at the centre of the play, the two are combined: the Doctor’s surgery is ‘the next room’ in his house, in which patients are satisfied in a manner denied to his wife.

In the lead roles, Natalie Casey and Jason Hughes give fine performances as a man of science and his wife, driven to desperation mostly, it would seem, through sexual frustration. The doctor’s patient, Mrs Daldry, has a similar complaint, depicted with great fun by Flora Montgomery. And lest we should suspect Ruhl is simply recasting a Victorian malady, suggesting sex is a cure-all, there are the deep pains and joys of childhood to consider. The better-off woman’s fears and anxieties are brought into sharp relief by the employment of a wet nurse whose own child has just died. Madeline Appiah does wonders with this small role.

This is a chance for London audiences to see the work of a new, much feted American writer. Well constructed, with a light touch underlined by some deep thinking, it has possibly too many twists; including what happens when there is a power cut and the arrival of a male patient (now that’s got you thinking). Some predictable touches commenting on a battle of the sexes fail to satisfy. The play is impressive for its commercial potential as much as a sense of integrity. Ruhl may try to tackle a little too much but the laughs are uproarious and the romantic ending a delight.

Until 4 January 2014

www.stjamestheatre.co.uk

Photo by Johan-Persson

Written 22 November 2013

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“Strangers on a train” at the Gielgud Theatre

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Most people know Strangers on a train because of Alfred Hitchcock’s 1951 film. As with the director’s earlier work, Rope, it was based on a novel by Patricia Highsmith. Hitchcock must have been a fan, and it would be nice to think he would approve of writer Craig Walker adapting the book, rather than the movie, for the stage.

Presenting Highsmith’s take on the ‘perfect murder’, with two strangers killing for one another, thereby securing alibis and depriving investigators of motive, it’s a disturbing journey worth taking.

It’s a shame that director Robert Allan Ackerman’s production contains so many frustrations. After a bold move away from the screen, continual projections make us feel we are watching a movie and some frankly hammy music sets a period feel in the worst possible way, being both clichéd and melodramatic.

Imogen Stubbs (Elsie) in Strangers on a Train credit Brinkhoff and Mogenburg
Imogen Stubbs

The first act is taken at a disconcertingly swift pace: this is Highsmith on a high-speed train. It’s all so quick that the performances disappoint a little. Laurence Fox and Jack Huston are the strangers, Haines and Bruno, who kill an unwanted wife and a father holding back a legacy. Fox’s accent slips as he rushes the lines and there are times it is difficult to hear Huston. The possibility of homoeroticism, so potent in Highsmith’s work, is also an issue. These are remarkably sexless performances (was this a conscious decision?). Of the secondary characters, only Imogen Stubbs, who plays Bruno’s mother with a knowing nod to Blanche DuBois, giving us an impression of what Marilyn Monroe might have become, stands out.

Everything improves greatly in the second part – ironically as the steam runs out, and the pace slows. Now we have the psychological outcome of the murders, the realisation of how dangerous Bruno is and Haine’s descent into instability. Fox and Huston have the chance to show themselves as fine actors, the tension is higher and the finale surprising.

Throughout, the show looks stunning. The revolving design from Tim Goodchild is worked for all it’s worth and the impressive number of sets is remarkable. A monochrome palette is deployed, with superb costumes from Dona Granata, making the show lavish. It would have been great if the suspense matched the style. But Highsmith’s ideas and the sheer power of her storytelling go a long way and Warner has done well to bring so much of this forward.

Until 22 February 2014

Photo by Brinkhoff and Mogenburg

Written 21 November 2013 for The London Magazine

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“Mojo” at the Harold Pinter Theatre

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Jez Butterworth’s play, Mojo, was a huge hit in 1995 for the Royal Court and its revival at the Harold Pinter Theatre is a welcome event. The première work from a playwright destined for huge success, it’s set in gangland Soho in the late 1950s, with the owner of a nightclub and would-be music promoter murdered. Menace is continually offset by ineffectual gangsters, and then reinjected by mental instability and manic tension. It’s a playwright’s script, full of inspiration from modern masters, with the language poetically reflecting the new craze for rock and roll. A fine plot, superb characters and serious comedy secure wide appeal. There’s high drama, breathtaking suspense and laughs out loud from a sense of humour that is darkly, madly, deeply funny.

Daniel Mays (Potts) and Rupert Grint (Sweets) in Mojo. Photo credit Simon Annand
Daniel Mays and Rupert Grint

For this revival, the focus is sure to be on a stellar cast. And they don’t disappoint. Brendan Coyle takes time off Downtown Abbey to play the man ready to step into his assassinated boss’s shoes, claiming possession of the club while trying, and failing, to control his staff. He has to deal with Sweets and Potts, a pill-popping double act played by Rupert Grint, of Harry Potter fame, who makes a fine West End debut and can’t be blamed for being upstaged by the excellent Daniel Mays, who has the audience in the palm of his hand. It’s just as hard to ignore rising star Colin Morgan who gives a superb performance as another employee. In common with his colleagues, Morgan shows the thin skin underneath the machismo and how these men see the club, with all its power politics, as a home and family as well as career.

But it is Ben Whishaw who is the real star of the night. In the role of Baby, abused son to the murdered owner, and a damaged character who bursts into song and runs around with a sword, he manages to make both activities just as frightening. It’s his finest performance since Hamlet back in 2004 and makes you ponder about connections between the two plays. Avoiding plot spoilers, it’s fair to say something is rotten with the state of the nightclub and, if this insane heir-apparent isn’t indecisive, the court politics and innocent victims ring bells. It’s a resonance that indicates how rich Butterworth’s play is – concerning men, their place in the world and with one another, that run deep. This Mojo is box-office magic that lives up to expectations and really is as good as it sounds.

Until 8 February 2014

Photos by Simon Annand

Written 16 November 2013 for The London Magazine

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“Jeeves & Wooster in Perfect Nonsense” at the Duke of York’s

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P.G. Wodehouse’s legendary comic characters, the nice-but-dim Jeeves and his gentlemen’s gentlemen Wooster, have been brought to the stage in an adaptation from Robert and David Goodale. In Perfect Nonsense, the strategy of dealing with Wodehouse’s elaborate plots and precise humour is to present the evening as a show that Bertie, played by Stephen Mangan, is putting on.

Matthew Macfadyen’s Jeeves and Mark Hadfield, as his fellow butler Seppings, take on all the roles and provide the scenery. The impromptu staging, which aims to be another source of humour, makes this the lightest of comedies and the show becomes that prized thing – family-friendly fun.

Pretending to improvise as they go along is a neat enough move, and it gets laughs, although it has to be said that it’s been done better before. We see Mangan’s shocked face, as the scenery appears and moves around, far too often. But it’s a perfect gurn for the part and all the cast are undoubtedly strong. Both Mangan and Macfadyen have the stage presence to make the roles work, but Hadfield steals many a scene as both an “ancestor Aunt” and the sinister Roderick Spode, who threatens to turn Bertie into jelly. But the venture into amateur dramatics makes the unflappable Jeeves, well, flappable, and getting dragged up as Madeline Bassett is surely beneath him, no matter how well Macfadyen manages.

The physical comedy is good. And gags that come from Alice Power’s sets and costumes have their appeal. It’s a shame, though, that experienced director Sean Foley, who had such a hit with The Lady Killers, hasn’t put more speed into the show. There’s so much repetition the evening feels stretched rather than exhibiting the relaxed insouciance that might be more appropriate for its characters. Some of the pacing comes dangerously close to milking the jokes. And the lack of momentum means the show toys with silliness without ever really ascending into farce. But Wodehouse’s lines are, of course, seriously funny. His devoted followers will love hearing them; even if Perfect Nonsense doesn’t convert many new ones, this is a show fans should adore.

Until 8 March 2013

Written 13 November 2013 for The London Magazine

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“Keeler” at the Charing Cross Theatre

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Now we know why Andrew Lloyd Webber selected Stephen Ward as the subject of his new musical –  a small production has beaten him into the West End – and reminds us what a fascinating character he was. In Gill Adams’ Keeler, the woman at the centre of the 60s scandal, the Profumo affair, takes the title and the play is based on Keeler’s own book. But it is Ward, a queasy-making anti-hero, who interests most.

The focus on Ward may well come from Paul Nicholas taking on the role. A strictly controlled performance adds to this enigmatic character: his motives tantalisingly unclear, his emotions ambiguous. A kind of pimp to Christine and other girls from Murray’s Cabaret Club, he uses women to advance himself with the establishment and the powerful. It’s more than creepy but we never doubt his charisma.

Unfortunately, Nicholas dominates too much. Other characters, including “the Minister of War and the man from Moscow” – Keeler’s lovers, John Profumo and Eugene Ivanovo – are sketchily written. In the title role, Sarah Armstrong fights hard to portray Keeler as more than a victim, but this results in little sense of how young and vulnerable she must have been. Through abortion and abandonment, to having her life threatened by mad lovers from Notting Hill, Armstrong conveys Keeler’s cool rather than the drama.

Sexual tension is conspicuously absent. Despite a couple of showgirls, who inject some feathered glamour, the uniformly odious male characters, with their talk of “botties and boobies”, make you squirm. Nicholas, who also directs with a thorough hand, aided by Charlie Cams’ neat set, is at his best as Ward is taken to court. Injecting a more serious tone, this scene almost grabs you. Laid bare for the law, you can see the story for the scoop it really was – sensational still.

Until 30 November 2013

www.charingcrosstheatre.co.uk

Photo by Irina Chira

Written 7 November 2013 for The London Magazine

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“H.M.S.Pinafore” at the Union Theatre

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Given their success on London’s fringe theatre scene, Sasha Regan’s all male productions of Gilbert and Sullivan are much anticipated. Her latest, H.M.S. Pinafore, would seem a natural selection from the Victorian composer and lyricist’s opus – a story full of camp potential, with plenty of sailors and satire. The production lives up to expectations and also surprises.

Not content to rest on her reputation, Regan adds a sense of melancholy to the usual wit and fun. The cast are deliberately presented as though improvising, and so the production opens up some interesting questions: are we here to watch ‘real’ sailors aboard a ship, prisoners of war trying to alleviate boredom, or possibly children at a boarding school? It’s a brilliantly original twist that will win your heart.

Rough and ready staging becomes a powerful tool. So much is achieved with just ropes and kit boxes. The design from Ryan Dawson-Laight, full of inspired touches, including shirt collars used as millinery, contributes to making this show immediate and involving – bunk beds have never been this much fun. And that’s saying something.

From the heroic sailor Ralph, an appropriately dashing Tom Senior, fighting for his love to his Captain’s daughter Josephine, played by Bex Roberts (a  male  actor, to clarify), the cast sound fantastic. As her father the Captain, Benjamin Vivian-Jones is magnificent, bringing out the laughs and in fine voice. Ciarán O’Driscoll renders buttercup, the “plump and pleasing person” who is the key to the ‘topsy-turvy’ story, both loveable and formidable. Accounting for the highest and the lowest in this magnificent class comedy, Lee Van Geleen impresses with his fantastically powerful voice as the dastardly Dick Deadeye and David McKenchnie gives a superb comic performance as The Rt. Hon. Sir Joseph Porter, K.C.B.

The inventive staging by Regan, along with fantastic choreography from Lizzi Gee, is a constant delight. The ensemble show their talent, morphing from exercising studs into the gaggle of “sisters, cousins and aunts” that accompany the Rt.Hon, for comic touches a plenty. Special note has to be given to be given to Richard Russell Edwards as Hebe, who can swoon with the best of them. And finally, underpinning all this is the musical adaptation from Michael England and Chris Mundy, extracting the spirit of the score with an intelligent transformation accommodating all male voices.

Even if you’re a G&S fan of a more traditional persuasion, you’re still going to love Regan’s work. There is a reverence here in the best sense of the word – a genuine enthusiasm and love of the piece that is infectious. This is one of the best shows I’ve seen this year and although it’s only November, and there are plenty of exciting things coming up, I doubt it will be bettered in 2013.

Until 30 November 2013

www.uniontheatre.biz

Written 4 November 2013 for The London Magazine

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“Unscorched” at the Finborough Theatre

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As the winner of the prestigious Papatango New Writing Prize, Luke Owen gets his first play, Unscorched, staged at the Finborough Theatre. Packing in the critics last night, the scene is set to judge the script, and it’s easy to see why it won as it’s a strong piece. But just as impressive are the performances from two players: Ronan Raftery, who takes the lead role, and his love interest, played by Eleanor Wyld.

Back to the playwright. Owen’s unsavoury subject is child abuse, with the action based around an office where pornography is analysed in order to assist the police. We know it’s an unpalatable job; the first scene, with a brief but emotive performance from Richard Atwill, brilliantly shows a worker having a breakdown because of the traumatic material he is exposed to.

Enter our new recruit Tom (Raftery). With the bravest of intentions, the long-serving Nidge, performed capably by John Hodgkinson, mentors him. Seemingly immune to the horrors he watches, Nidge makes us aware of the toll this necessary work takes. And Tom is carefully watched by his boss, who has a “buddy” approach to management that strikes a jarringly comic tone. George Turvey convinces in this role, pointing out the therapeutic potential of an Xbox and promoting paintballing – as if these really could be solutions.

It is the romantic writing, about Tom and his new love affair, which is best and highlights Owen’s intelligent voice. As with the main subject matter, the relationship is written in an admirably understated fashion. Careful to avoid prurient touches, it feels authentic and shows the effects that working in such a horrible field have on ordinary people and this likeable couple in particular.

Satisfying as it is, the relationship Tom starts out on could have been even more of a focus to the play. A series of (too) brief scenes start to become a touch frustrating. Perhaps the direction from Justin Audibert could have been slightly tighter. The astoundingly efficient set from Georgia Lowe works hard but time is taken up preparing for very short scenarios so it feels as if the play needs a bigger stage. Although given the quality of the writing and performances, it surely deserves one.

Until 23 November 2013

www.finboroughtheatre.co.uk

Written 1 November 2013 for The London Magazine

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“The Dumb Waiter” at The Print Room

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Time is of the essence Harold Pinter’s play The Dumb Waiter. The one-act work, which sees two hit men waiting for their instructions, plays with timescales and sets out to disorientate the audience. Protagonists Gus and Ben, your average working killers, complain about their employment conditions and are exposed to an increasingly bizarre series of events – including the eponymous serving hatch of the play’s title, from which strange and threatening orders emerge. The tension mounts, hilarity ensues and in true Pinter style, we’re exposed to raw emotion and left a little puzzled.

The director Jamie Glover, primarily known as an actor, has worked with the talented duo Joe Armstrong and Clive Wood to create superbly detailed performances. Wood plays Ben, the “senior partner”, who bristles with tension. Distracting banalities from the newspaper and professed confidence in the “organisation” they work for can’t hide his anxiety. Wood’s red-ringed eyes reveal he is close to the edge and one scene of his starring into the distance, collapsed in on himself, is extremely powerful. His younger colleague, Gus, is the one willing to ask questions – and there are lots of them. Armstrong gives a winning performance, combining a endearingly puzzled look with great comic skill when the couple squabble over semantics. His character might be a cog in a machine, but one with some spirit and the will examine the way in which they are being manipulated.

Maybe it was the delightfully-crafted pumpkins lining the entrance to the theatre, or more likely Peter Rice’s effective sound design to the show which makes the dumb waiter sound like a supernatural guillotine – but this is a scary night. The men’s boredom escalates into fear instantly but the comedy in the play suffers. Glover opts for menace – a valid decision – but I enjoy Pinter’s dark comedy and felt it lacking here. The absurdities of the situation raise laughs but the general air is one of brooding. It adds to the intensity though and the show becomes incredibly swift; there’s time for dinner afterwards and this play leaves you plenty to discuss.

Until 23 November 2013

www.the-print-room.org

Written 29 October 2013 for The London Magazine

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“Raving” at Hampstead Theatre

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Three couples on a disastrous weekend away in Wales. This is the premise for Simon Paisley Day’s new play, Raving, which opened last night at the Hampstead Theatre. It’s a satisfyingly traditional set-up for a comedy of manners. Boasting superb performances as well as plenty of gags, it should prove another hit for a theatre that director Edward Hall is taking from strength to strength.

An actor himself, Day knows how to craft lines that will get a laugh, and the cast, all experienced comic actors, really capitalise on the script. Hall directs with just the bubbling suggestion of a farce, while keeping the pace appropriate to observational comedy. The couples are instantly recognisable ‘middle-aged parents with stressful lives’. You have a vivid impression of the homes and children they are taking a break from, and can easily imagine which part of London each lives in.

raving-18
Barnaby Kay and Tamzin Outwaite

The first arrivals are the neurotic Briony and her sex starved husband Keith. Barnaby Kay makes his character instantly appealing and Tamzin Outwaite is tremendous, turning on the tears and irrational fears at a speed that’s hilarious. As teachers, Briony and Keith see themselves as lower middle class (I am sure that wasn’t always the case) and don’t gel with the better-off Serena and Charles.

The toffs of the play are the tops. Nicholas Rowe’s ex SAS Charles is a scream, bettered only by Issy Van Randwyk whose filthy laugh as Serena I wanted to bottle and keep. They have “four or five” children and just “leave them to it”. No parenting books in their library and they spend too much time in the bedroom, with Charles all over Serena “like German measles”, to read a lot anyway.

In the middle of the pecking order come Ross and Rosy. The seemingly perfect couple who “don’t do late” but do yoga instead. They have problems with au pairs. Robert Webb and Sarah Hardland deal cleverly with their unappealing characters. When the predictable breakdown happens and the raving really starts, it still feels edgy.

The piece has its problems. The introduction of a younger woman, a Sloane with a drug and sex addiction, doesn’t convince, even though the talented Bel Powell does her best. Similarly, the character of the farmer the couples rent a cottage from, while ably performed by Ifan Huw Dafydd, introduces less tension than desired. There are longueurs during the finale, as the couples sexual kinks and dependencies are revealed with a too-obviously confessional tone, but the performances are strong enough to keep the laughs coming.

Until 23 November 2013

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photos by Manuel Harlan

Written 25 October 2013 for The London Magazine