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“Sign of the Times” at the Duchess Theatre

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Humour and sentiment can be an uncomfortable mix. The secret of Tim Firth’s successful career, from Neville’s Island to the recent Calendar Girls, is that he combines them so well. Sign of the Times shows off this talent on an intimate scale – its heartwarming stuff with plenty of laughs.

Matthew Kelly plays Frank, Director of Installations at a sign manufacturer who is given the added responsibility of looking after Alan (Gerard Kearn) who is on work experience. Like many an intern, Alan is getting a raw deal here – he wanted work experience on the set of Emmerdale but instead is stuck on top of an office roof with a bore.

This is a comedy about a generation gap with the age-old twist of who is actually learning most from whom. Young Alan’s creativity strikes a chord with the older man, who is a frustrated writer. No matter how bad the spy thrillers he dictates during breaks are, we are touched by the sincerity of his efforts – he has a “burning burn” to write and who can argue with that! And the inspiration to do more with his life comes at the perfect time – the sign they are currently erecting spells out the end of his career.

Three years later, the roles are reversed. Alan is now the eager Trainee Assistant Deputy Manager explaining Frank’s new job to him with corporate mnemonics ripe for satire. It’s Frank’s turn to inspire and remind the youth of the courage he once had, saving him from electrocution along the way.

Sign of the Times started as a one-act play and there are moments when Firth’s extension seems contrived. Frank’s story reminds us that postponing retirement age entails problems, but that isn’t where the strength of the story really lies.

Firth writes great characters and in Sign of the Times they get the performances they deserve. Kelly is fully in control of the stage, charming even when pompous and endearing in his enthusiasm, and Kearns (who may be recognised from Shameless) makes a great West End debut. Both actors are spot on with their comic timing and make Sign of the Times well worth seeing.

Until 28 May 2011

www.nimaxtheatres.com

Photo by Simon Annand

Written 14 March 2011 for The London Magazine

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“Blithe Spirit” at the Apollo Theatre

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With her strong reputation for revivals, Thea Sharrock is a safe pair of hands to direct Noël Coward’s wartime comedy Blithe Spirit. The production, fresh from Bath, fits into the West End perfectly with a slick all-star cast and general air of quality.

With the Terrance Rattigan revival currently in full swing, reminding us about craftsmanship in playwriting, Blithe Spirit serves to show Coward’s talent in constructing a play. This maybe frivolous stuff but it’s impeccably plotted, and Sharrock’s zippy pace is perfect for bringing out Coward’s bravura dialogue.

The scenario, a wife coming back to haunt her husband and his new relationship after a botched séance, is a comic device that’s brilliant in its simplicity. As an actor himself, Coward provides roles to die for (in this case, literally) and the cast of this production grabs the opportunity with both hands.

Robert Bathurst plays Charles Condomine. A typically vain Coward hero, he is appealing despite his ego and immature behind his sophistication. Bathurst plays the role superbly but issue has to be taken over the fit of his smoking jacket – no matter how tormented by the paranormal a Coward hero may be, he should never be dishabille.

Charles’ wives are superbly cast. Hermione Norris plays the glacial Ruth as the “staccato Sergeant Major” and her acidic delivery is perfect. Ruthie Henshall adds a mischievous grace appropriate to the role of Elvira and is a joy to watch.

Best of all, a much anticipated performance by Alison Steadman finally lays to rest the ghost of Margaret Rutherford in the role of Madam Arcati. Steadman’s Arcati deals with astral bigamy in hilarious down-to-earth fashion. Concerned about the effect of cucumber sandwiches on her trance, she has an eye to innuendo that a constant quest for “subdued moaning” probably induces. Not that she would find any at the Apollo Theatre during Blithe Sprit – just good old-fashioned laughter.

Booking until the 18 June 2011

www.nimaxtheatres.com

Photo by Nobby Clark

Written 11 March 2011

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“Phantom part two, redux” at the Adelphi Theatre

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Opening in March 2010, Love Never Dies, hasn’t had an easy year. Not all reviews were bad (mine was very positive) but many were lukewarm, some slightly spiteful, and the reaction of ‘phans’ (devotees of Phantom of the Opera) occasionally bizarre.

Just over a year later several alterations have been made and there are some new members of the cast. But ticket sales could still be better. Why is difficult to fathom – Love Never Dies is great stuff; thoroughly entertaining and never, ever boring.

The changes made in Jack O’Brien’s direction make the story of what happens to the Phantom, after he moves from the Opera in Paris to the USA’s Coney Island, a good deal sharper. The clarity in all the performances, especially Hayley Flaherty as Meg and Liz Robertson as her mother Madame Giry, who devotedly follow the phantom and cause his final tragedy, are commendable. David Thaxton brings his considerable acting talent to the role of Raoul – still recognisable as the romantic hero, Raoul is now a broken man.

The Prologue is the biggest alteration. An atmospheric scene setting that teased audiences is replaced with a rousing introduction to the Phantom. Ramin Karimloo, in the title role, gives such a fantastic performance a sense of mystery isn’t missed too much. Throughout Karimloo is such tremendous value he shows he truly owns the role.

Thankfully, few changes have been made to Lloyd Webber’s score. There is some beautiful music in Love Never Dies and it seems a shame so little has been made of this. Glenn Slater’s lyrics often leave much to be desired and what little humour is present tends to fall flat, but what annoys people most – the reinvention of the Phantom as a sympathetic character and the musical’s bleak ending – are more questions of taste than errors of judgement.

Love Never Dies is a complex musical for the West End. The book, written by Lloyd Webber and Ben Elton, demands engagement from an audience and has an eye to its predecessor that is almost oppressive. The resources available mean that the production values are thrilling – they convey the fun of the circus and the frightening freak-shows by turn, but more impressive are the risks taken to produce a darker, relatively more elaborate work that is well worth watching.

www.loveneverdies.com

Written 10 March 2011 for The London Magazine

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“The Wizard of Oz” at the London Palladium

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With The Wizard of Oz we yet again have proof of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s unerring focus and entrepreneurialism – not only has the maestro produced a terrific live family show, he has even guaranteed it an audience with the aid of a hit TV series, Over the Rainbow.
The new star born is Danielle Hope, whose trials to gain the lead role of Dorothy have so enamoured her to BBC viewers that they now feel duty bound to catch the coach to London and see the show. It makes for a warm atmosphere, as the crowd wills her on to succeed. And Hope manages well – she is an engaging presence with a sweet voice and a remarkable confidence on stage.

It seems damning to say that Hope’s greatest achievement is putting up with Toto. One of the warnings about working with animals should be that a dog on stage can steal the show. And that really isn’t fair. As this poor creature is dragged around, looking by turn bemused and bored, you can’t help fixating on his clever handling and the treats he is cajoled with.

Which is a shame because the treats here aren’t just for Toto but for all the children in the audience. The Wizard of Oz is aimed successfully at youngsters who will, without exception, adore it. A whole team of designers, headed by Robert Jones, have done a superb job, Jon Driscoll’s projections recreating the tornado are impressive, and the costumes are fantastic. Harold Arlen’s great songs are added to by additional music from Lloyd Webber.

Dorothy’s companions on her travels give impressive performances that embrace the show’s camp appeal. Edward Baker-Duly is a matinee-idol tin man, Paul Keating a remarkably acrobatic scarecrow and David Ganly excels as the cowardly lion who is proud to be a friend of Dorothy.

Using a bit more of L Frank Baum’s original story than we are familiar with from the film is a clever move. It treats us to some choreography from Arlene Phillips and gives the talented Hannah Waddingham a chance to shine (via a great lyric from Tim Rice) as the Wicked Witch of the West. The only disappointment is that the additional songs to boost Michael Crawford’s role as Professor Marvel and The Wizard still leave him criminally underused.

Leaving Crawford’s many fans disappointed seems strange, as everyone else in The Wizard of Oz works as hard as Kansas farmhands. Director Jeremy Sams follows the yellow brick road with the precision required for such a spectacle and the determination needed to captivate a young audience. It’s safe to treat any children you know to the thrill of this show. The only thing you might worry about is the effect of all those doggy treats on Toto’s waistline.

Booking Until 17 September 2011

Photo by Keith Pattison

Written 3 March 2011 for The London Magazine

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“Penelope” at the Hampstead Theatre

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Ever wondered what Penelope’s suitors got up to during Odysseus’ absence? We know they were swiftly dispatched on the traveller’s return, punished for making a mess of the house and forcing his wife into all those pointless hours over the loom. But Enda Walsh’s Penelope takes a deeper look at these men in a startlingly novel play that reimagines Homer’s world.

To add tension, those hoping to step into Odysseus’ conjugal sandals know he is about to return and how he will punish them – the Gods have delivered a barbecue they will be roasted on. Penelope’s beaus have decamped to a drained swimming pool from where they serenade her via CCTV.

In a series of brave performances the cast declare their love and Walsh investigates the limits of their language. Ageing lothario Dunne fancies himself as a poet, but Denis Conway’s spirited performance has his speech degenerate into anger. The elderly Fitz (Niall Buggy) flirts with philosophy. His speech is moving, but only shows how empty words can be.

A third attempt is the unluckiest of all. Karl Shiels’s Quinn performs a manic mime act with impressive comedic prowess but it’s the last straw for his rival Burns (Aaron Monaghan) – he may look like “an emaciated kidney after a long day’s filtering”, but grasping that love can exist even in this strange place makes the lies they are all telling intolerable.

It’s part of Walsh’s point that none of these men are likeable. Faced with these serenades anyone would take up the shuttle. The open question – are they irredeemable? Unfortunately, with little empathy towards them, no matter how unusual Penelope is, the play struggles to engage you.

It’s easy to see why so many admire Walsh. He is a writer never short of ideas with an exciting grasp of rhythm. His bold voice is sometimes obscene and scatological, mostly for comedic effect, but there’s intelligence here so fierce it can be overwhelming. Having been so successful on tour, this London run of Penelope at Hampstead allows the capital’s audiences a valuable chance to see an award-winning play.

Until 15 March 2011

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photo by Robert Day

Written 17 February 2011

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“Snake In The Grass” at the Print Room

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For their second production at London’s new theatre, The Print Room, artistic directors Lucy Bailey and Anda Winters have chosen Alan Ayckbourn’s 2002 play Snake in the Grass. It’s a delightfully dark romp involving murder and a haunted tennis court, and the strength of this production confirms that London has an unmissable new venue on its cultural scene.

Bailey directs and deals with Ayckbourn’s black humour in a speedy, efficient fashion; she gets the laughs and spends time on the moving revelations that haunt the characters and give the play its real bite. With the audience sitting like spectators on either side of William Dudley’s spectral, derelict tennis court we are ready to watch a deadly game.

And the cast is equally compelling. Susan Wooldridge plays Annabel. Returning to the UK upon the death of her father, she has to deal with blackmail and an estranged sister who “accidentally” overdosed her father and pushed him down the stairs. Wooldridge is utterly convincing as a disappointed, yet practical woman. When she deals with her sister Miriam’s distress by waving a conciliatory handkerchief as if to shoo her away, you can tell that every movement in this performance is under control.

Sarah Woodward takes on messed-up Miriam with similar intelligence. Described as the gentlest of creatures but also criminally stupid, nobody really knows Miriam and Woodward plays her character mercurially. As for the blackmailer, Mossie Smith’s Alice is delicious to watch as she threatens the sisters and suggests their plans to move to Fulham be abandoned in favour of a caravan park!

Snake in the Grass isn’t just one for the die-hard Ayckbourn fans. With Bailey’s fantastic production getting the most out of the play, it’s game, set and match to The Print Room.

Until 5 March 2011

www.the-print-room.org

Photo by Sheila Burnett

Written 15 February 2011 for The London Magazine

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“Ordinary Days” at the Trafalgar Studios

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Having had its London premiere at the Finborough Theatre back in 2008 we owe director Adam Lenson enormous thanks for staging another production of Ordinary Days. Adam Gwon’s musical is as far from the quotidian as it is possible to be. It’s a must-see.

Gwon’s story of four young people on one day in New York is a song cycle of love to the city. New York’s stresses and excitement, its random possibilities, are common enough urban tropes but Gwon presents them with unusual, appealing modesty as well as intelligence and great tunes.

Lenson has a similarly light touch, focusing on the intimacy of the piece and getting the best from his cast of familiar musical theatre performers. It would be a privilege to see these guys on any stage, but in a venue as intimate as the Trafalgar Studios it’s an unmissable opportunity.

Daniel Boys is perfectly cast as the lovelorn James. The chemistry he has with co-star Julie Atherton, who plays the recondite Claire, is palpable and both are in fine voice.
Deb and Warren
Lee William-Davis shows off his fine acting skills playing Warren, a sensitive soul lost in the city. Yet the revelation of the night is Alexia Khadime, who gives a tremendous performance as Deb, a frenzied graduate student who loses her notes and finds something more important. Khadime’s voice is as stunning as her comic ability.

Comparisons with writer/composer Jason Robert Brown are somewhat inevitable for Gwon. There are similarities and that is no bad thing. Ordinary Days is fresh, contemporary and brave. But Gwon’s musical has a more immediate lyricism and his writing a sentimental touch Robert Brown might shy away from.

Underlying Ordinary Days are questions that resonate with a modern urban audience, and ruminations on art and life that are delivered with emotional truth. Beauty is never far away in the city, or in Gwon’s wonderful score. With Lenson on board, Ordinary Days is 80 minutes of near perfection, so good you’ll want to see it again as soon as it’s finished.

Until 5 March 2011

www.ambassadortickets.com

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“The Children’s Hour” at the Comedy Theatre

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At the interval of The Children’s Hour, I happened to overhear a young audience member’s confusion. “What is the scandal?” he asked. “Is it because they are lesbians?” It could be that accusing schoolteachers of being gay, the central plot of the play, is now so outmoded it doesn’t even make sense, or that the child is just expecting something more lurid. Either way the perplexity doesn’t bode well – and yet The Children’s Hour works and proves to be a terrific night out.

It is easy to guess why director Ian Rickson took the risk – The Children’s Hour  has great roles for women. And the stellar cast should all share top billing. Elisabeth Moss makes an assured West End debut playing one of the accused teachers, Martha, with convincing aggression. She looks only slightly less comfortable on stage than her colleague Karen, played by Keira Knightley. After her modest debut in last year’s The Misanthrope, Knightly is impressive, playing an ambitious woman whose life falls apart in the face of malicious gossip. At times, she is a commanding presence on the stage.

The legendary Ellen Burstyn gives a performance of quiet brilliance as the teacher’s self-righteous scourge; it’s her desperation to do ‘good’ that persuades her to believe her granddaughter Mary’s story, cribbed from a book the girls have been passing amongst themselves. Mary has overheard the women visiting each other’s rooms and seen things she can only whisper about, blackmailing others to follow her. It isn’t that the story is convincing – it’s the paranoia of the adults that gives it power. Bryony Hannah plays this “dark child” wonderfully. As an actress she has had plenty of practice playing adolescents, and it’s paid off with an uncannily convincing performance of thrilling intensity.

Hannah’s performance is very much in keeping with Rickson’s strategy for The Children’s Hour. His direction wrenches every bit of tension from the text and he is aided by Mark Thompson’s austere set design and music from Stephen Warbeck. Lancet, New England, is a frigid place – probably close to Salem I’d guess – and Hellman, like her close contemporary Arthur Miller, is very much concerned with witch hunts.

While The Children’s Hour is an unsettling portrayal of how a sexual minority was treated in 1930s America, gay rights are really just a foil for larger concerns about the dangers of righteousness. In opening up her play to this larger issue, Hellman guaranteed its relevance for the future. Rickson and his cast get the benefits of good old-fashioned writing along with a foresight that makes this play carry considerable weight today.

Until 7 May 2011

Photo by Johan Persson

Written 10 February 2011 for The London Magazine

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“Greenland” at the National Theatre

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Over population is just one of the huge problems facing the natural world. It’s an irony that the National Theatre’s new play about the environment, Greenland, suffers from a similar issue. With four writers having contributed, the play is a disaster in itself.

Moira Buffini, Matt Charman, Penelope Skinner and Jack Thorne have all attempted to address the issue of climate change. The idea of making Greenland a collaborative event is ambitious, and I guess all aimed at inspiring a Big Conversation reflected in a series of after show events. The writer’s stories are supposedly interwoven to scope out the effects of climate change and how we react to the threat. Unfortunately the stories don’t so much interweave as unravel. Even worse, none of them is that interesting.

The future, it seems, is not just bleak, but boring. Director Bijan Sheibani paces his production far too quickly. Maybe sleight of hand started to look like a good idea during rehearsals, but the problems of this script aren’t going to disappear just because you race through it. There’s quite a bag of tricks on display: wind machines, a rain curtain, and plenty of things dropping dramatically on to the stage. The National Theatre’s always excellent production department is to be praised, but for hard work rather than results.

Nobody doubts the environment is an urgent issue but there’s always the danger that you are talking to the converted. One of Greenland‘s faults is to not just preach to the choir but to shout at it. And shout in a rather unpleasant tone. It feels as if the National Theatre’s audience is to blame for the world’s woes with its greed (mostly for coffee) and its ignorance (particular concerning the capital of Mali). Even worse, Greenland is remarkably uninformative. You will learn nothing new here and that is shocking omission.

A large cast wonder haplessly around the stage and can do little to save things. Only Amanda Lawrence gives a stand-out performance and manages to bring some humour and warmth to proceedings. And it’s good to see some young talent on the stage, Isabella Laughland and Sam Swann deal ably with their roles as young activists and it’s a shame they don’t have more to do.

There is little hope in Greenland. The aimed-for humour points a finger at activists and the complacent but only hits home ironically – “this eco stuff is making you unhappy,” says an exasperated mother to her campaigning daughter. We know just how she feels. The prevailing feeling is one of anger, justified but hardly constructive. The preaching tone taken might make you angry, too. But, sadly, for the wrong reasons.

Until 2 April 2011

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Helen Warner

Written 3 February 2011 for The London Magazine

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“Twisted Tales” at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre

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Roald Dahl’s Twisted Tales is a selection of stories, told to a group of Haywards Heath commuters by a stranger who joins them on their journey. Skilfully adapted by Jeremy Dyson, of The League of Gentlemen fame, they mix suspense with the macabre and, as one would expect, all of them have a twist at the end.

The ensemble cast play a variety of parts as the stories change. Selina Griffiths excels in this diversity, and Trevor White, who plays The Stranger who knows all the denouements except one, is deliciously creepy.

What Dahl knew, and what this team preserves in adaptation, is that “imagination is a ferocious beast”, so it’s best to let the audience do a lot of the work themselves. The bare aesthetic of the design by Naomi Wilkinson is a highly effective element in director Polly Findlay’s atmospheric production. An expert knowledge of how suspense works creates great theatrical moments – sometimes coming from high drama, such as a bet with high stakes, at other times centred around a small domestic detail, such as drinking a cup of tea.

There is plenty of humour in the production but it might not be dark enough for some. Many of the laughs come from period details – that surely wasn’t Dahl’s intention, and it can dissipate tension. But these giggles about accents and class don’t detract from the enjoyment of the evening as a whole. If only commuting was always this entertaining.

Until 26 February 2011

www.lyric.co.uk

Photo by Alastair Muir

Written 25 January 2011 for The London Magazine