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“Saturn Returns” at the Finborough Theatre

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Saturn is the god of the harvest, associated with celebration and also time. In Noah Haidle’s Saturn Returns we meet Gustin Novak at three stages of his life, each focusing on the moment of his greatest happiness – a time he sees as a golden age that he paradoxically lives to regret.

Novak is played by three actors. Richard Evans performs the character in his old age. Irascible and with a wry sense of humour, he is so desperately lonely that he can’t even take advantage of a free airline ticket to anywhere in the world.

He is joined on stage by his middle-aged self, played by Nicholas Gecks, who brings a frightening intensity to a man bereaved long ago, but still in deep mourning. Christopher Harper plays Novak when young, passionately in love and with his future before him.

All three interact with each other under strong direction from Adam Lenson. They argue amongst themselves and waltz around the stage as they re-enact the past, returning to “the beginning of unforgetting” when tragedy entered Novak’s life. This dance to the music of time is often funny and frequently moving.

This trio achieves a remarkable sense of common identity, but it is Lisa Caruccio Came who just manages to steal the show. She plays Novak’s nurse, his daughter and his wife in different scenes and not only establishes the connections between the characters, but also manages to distinguish them with great historical intelligence.

And this drama has two other stars. Noah Haidle writes with a wonderfully light and poetic touch. This play is bleak but with an underlying tenderness so evocative it borders on the sentimental and is sure to resonate emotionally. A much-lauded writer from the States, it is to the The Finborough’s credit that Haidle receives his UK debut here. Praise must go to artistic director Neil McPherson for once again sharing with us his far-sighted talent spotting.

Until 27 November 2010

www.finboroughtheatre.co.uk

Photo by Dan Chippendale

Written 8 November 2010 for The London Magazine

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“Macbeth” at the Barbican

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If the thought of Macbeth accompanied by Korean musical instruments, Corsican chants and martial arts-inspired dancing makes you raise an eyebrow – prepare to raise the other one as well, because Polish company Song of the Goat’s production is truly astonishing.

Director Grzegorz Bral makes this bizarre combination work. How exactly is surely a case of theatrical magic. And hard graft. Macbeth is ‘devised’ by the company. This can be a dangerously indulgent technique but Bral and his ensemble have produced a 75-minute show that is as taut as a kayagum string. And if you want to know what that sounds like, it’s yet another reason to see the show.

One proviso – you do have to know Macbeth well to follow what is going on. But this feels like a fair assumption and the intense collaboration process, bringing performers so close to the text, has resulted in great drama. The characters seem to know their fates from the start, which can be unsettling, but means that Gabriel Gawin’s virile Macbeth is deeply moving and both Ian Morgan and Ewan Downie get more out of the roles of Macduff and Banquo than I have ever seen.

There is only one witch in this production but Anu Salonen does enough work for three. More enchanting than supernatural, she dances around the stage manipulating characters and handing them wooden swords and bamboo canes that are used with frightening precision. Salonen grapples with Anna Zubrzycki’s Lady Macbeth, seeming to transform her into the provoking accomplice of her husband and then comforts her after she has been impaled on enough sticks to look like a game of human kerplunk. Both women join the men in striking combative choreography and have stunning voices, deeply melodic and playful or shrill as the need arises.

It is the music that really sets this Macbeth apart. The ensemble performs a variety of polyphonic chants and when they apply this musicality to Shakespeare’s verse the result is breathtaking. This Macbeth is beautiful, not a word you normally associate with the most bloody of plays. The Barbican’s bite festival has more than lived up to the advice that we should ‘do something different’.

Until 20 November 2010

www.barbican.org.uk

Photo by Grzegorz Hawale

Written 4 November 2010 for The London Magazine

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“Absent Friends” at the Union Theatre

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Producing Alan Ayckbourn’s modern middle-class drawing-room drama beneath a railway arch is a fairly brave act. But the Union Theatre in Southwark is a fringe venue not known for its timidity – with some excellent results. Thanks to impeccably sourced props from designer Holly Best we are back in the 70s in a well-appointed home and, with director Ben De Wynter in charge, ready for a deliciously poignant comedy of manners.

Absent Friends is the story of three couples preparing to meet with an old mate who has recently suffered bereavement. Giles Fagan plays the mourning Colin in a suitably perky manner, for Colin has learned lessons from his tragedy his luckier chums have missed out on, and consequently embraces life with a gratitude that makes the others look absent.

Chas. Early and Gillian McCafferty play Paul and Di, a couple on the edge, who fall apart on stage. McCafferty gives a brave, simply riveting performance while Early is slickly lecherous. His latest conquest joins them for tea and a lack of sympathy – Olivia Busby is the monosyllabic Evelyn and gets more laughs than you would have thought possible from a simple yes and no. To add to the embarrassment, Evelyn’s husband is present as well. Shaun Stone shows a talent not just to amuse but also to annoy with his nervous coin-jiggling curling toes. And finally there is Marge, on her own as hubbie Gordon is sick off stage. Fiona Gordon manages to let us all know it’s her character who is going to make the biggest gaffs – the comedy is no less sparkling when the promise comes to fruition.

De Wynter’s intelligent direction perfectly suits Ayckbourn’s subtlety. There are moments when this tea party becomes riotous, but Absent Friends isn’t a farce. Having couples argue over a eulogy just to score points against each other is painful, yet the humour also feels light. This production captures Ayckbourn’s gentle melancholy so perfectly it is strongly recommended. Make friends with the Union Theatre as soon as you can.

Until 13 November 2010

www.uniontheatre.biz

Written 1 November 2010 for The London Magazine

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“Men Should Weep” at the National Theatre

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Josie Rourke, renowned for her work at the Bush Theatre, is canny in her choice of play to mark her directorial debut at the National. Ena Lamont Stewart’s Men Should Weep is a social drama with a large cast enacted on an intimate level. Rourke uses her experience of small venues while exploiting the Lyttelton’s resources to create the play’s larger world. Her skill envelops the audience; her talent is a fresh approach for the National Theatre.

Bunny Christie’s magnificent set reflects the claustrophobic squalor of the 1930s tenement in which the play is set. It’s impressive, but Rourke is never distracted by it. Lamont Stewart’s slice of life story receives the respect it deserves. The playwright worked in the Glasgow library and hospital during the depression and her text has an authentic feel that is captivating. The language maybe daunting, but might only prove a problem for the truest blooded Sassenach.

Men Should Weep is full of great roles for women. Sharon Small plays Maggie Morrison the matriarch of the family, around whom the story revolves. It is a demanding role performed with aplomb. Jayne McKenna is wonderful as her sister, a brittle, regretful woman. The younger generation fight against their poverty any way they can, with excellent performances from Sarah MacRae and Morven Christie. Thérèse Bradley puts in a great turn as the miserly sister-in-law, “so hard they dug her from a quarry”. These are women not to be messed with, but the mess their lives are in makes you understand why.

What of the men who should be weeping? Robert Cavanah plays John Morrison. The character’s faults make him a difficult man to sympathise with but love of his family and intelligence are always behind Cavanah’s performance. John says that poverty bends a man over double and makes him like “a human question mark”.

It’s grim up north to be sure, but the play is masterfully free of clichés and histrionics. Laughter and love of the family shine forth but without a ‘salt of the earth’ touch. There are no angels or devils here – just difficult circumstances. The domestic violence and vice can be harsh and shocking, but the motivation is desperation, and humour is never far behind. The Morrison children certainly suffer, but these are the sorts of lives the Jeremy Hunts of the world should consider before proscribing how many children people should have. Our current recession differs in many ways from that Lamont Stewart experienced, but her insight into human dignity has important lessons for us all.

Until 9 January 2010

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Manuel Harlan

Written 27 October 2010

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“The Charming Man” at Theatre 503

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“The country’s buggered.” So declares David Verrey as political guru Marcus in Gabriel Bisset-Smith’s new play, The Charming Man. In a delicious performance, Verrey lectures on the problems of politics in 2015 in language so colourful that it goes beyond Tory blue, Labour red or Lib Dem gold – into green. Politics has reached such a nadir that the Greens are the only party that might possibly win power.

What the Greens still need is a leader with charisma. Enter youth worker Darren, played so endearingly by Syrus Lowe that it’s easy to imagine him as the political phenomenon he becomes. The public may want the honest, open character Lowe portrays so wonderfully, but is it really ready for a black, gay Prime Minister who used to wear gold hot pants and dance to The Smiths?

If the answer to that seems pretty obvious, you might wonder at the compromises Darren undertakes in order to try and change minds. Yet his well-trodden path to corruption is both funny and moving. His party colleagues, played terrifically by Sarah Berger and Kate Sissons, who lose ideals but get plenty of laughs, tutor him. Their clever performances suggest passion and melancholy in turn. Darren’s partner Luke is left by the way, of course, which seems a shame given the great comedy Sam Pamphilon brings to the scenes he is in.

Much of The Charming Man might seem like a ruder, current take on Yes, Minister with comedy more suited to our times, but a similar eye to conspiracy that doesn’t convince. The idea that those in power can manipulate to such a degree seems to inflate their abilities beyond credulity. Business backing for politicians occurs, of course, but surely never to the extent of Kenny Fox (Christopher Brandon), the arch villain who takes over the Green Party as a plaything.

But there is more to the night than this. Director Paul Robinson is also joint artistic head of the theatre itself and he can spot them; the venue’s reputation for ‘fearless’ new writing is sure to be enhanced by Bisset-Smith’s achievement.

Moving past standard political satire, The Charming Man reaches realms of fantasy that are inspiring. The sillier the play becomes, the funnier it is and the truer it rings. As Fox’s insults against the English increase in pace, Brandon injects a mania that is gleeful. The idea of a TV show called Liberal Democrats on Ice is genius in its absurdity. But could anyone ever really have imagined Tory stalwart Ann Widdecombe on Strictly Come Dancing? Maybe the future really does wear gold hot pants.

www.theatre503.com

Until 13 November 2010

Photo by Graham Turner

Written 25 October 2010 for The London Magazine

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“Onassis”at the Novello Theatre

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The life of Aristotle Onassis, self-made millionaire and lover of the world’s most beautiful women, could easily read like a trashy novel – “cheap but unputdownable” as it were. Onassis on stage  is certainly expensive looking. Katrina Lindsay’s stylish set, with its clever projections and well-chosen furniture, ensures that. And writer Martin Sherman invests his play with some impressive talk about gods and heroes that adds weight. He attempts a Greek tragedy of passion and politics that is a rich lesson in history. Given such glittering raw material, it is a crying shame that this new play never quite manages to hold our interest.

Best of all is Robert Lindsay in the title role. Lindsay’s impeccable comic timing quite saves the evening, and he deals movingly with the downsides of being rich and famous. But these tribulations never quite convince most of us. For all his skill and charisma, Lindsay as an actor clearly finds the role more interesting than we do as an audience.

If playing Onassis offers rewards to the leading man, taking on the parts of Maria Callas and Jackie Kennedy have to be daring gambles.

Unfortunately, they don’t quite pay off. Anna Francolini’s Callas, who seems to have passed via Brooklyn, takes Sherman’s theme of nemesis far too seriously. Ironically, her character would probably have done just the same in real life, but although Callas famously lived off stage as if she were still on it, her actions become uncomfortable when transposed a third time back into the theatre. Lydia Leonard’s Jacqueline is very much the Southern Belle and gives a similarly brave performance. Again, the character is too much aware of her place in history to really convince.

Sherman gives Onassis’s loves some great lines, and both actresses deliver them well, but they are often too clever and too contrived.
As for “unputdownable”, unfortunately not so. Nancy Meckler’s direction is poorly paced and the technique of characters addressing the audience starts to look desperate. Maybe the times simply aren’t right for a play about the super rich? To be fair, Meckler always works well with an ensemble and her cast seem to find Onassis a figure worth hearing about. It is a shame their passion doesn’t transmit itself to the rest of us.

Until 5 February 2011

Photo by Tristram Kenton

Written 15 October 2010 for The London Magazine

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“Hamlet” at the National Theatre

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It’s not just theatre critics who have seen a lot of Hamlets – pretty much everyone has. So, as with all directors, and all Hamlets, Nicholas Hytner and Rory Kinnear face the challenge of pinning down the complex text and the temptation of adding a new twist. The National’s first Hamlet since 2000 sees them juggling these demands to produce an enthralling night out.

The production is clear, thoughtful and delivered with commitment. This Hamlet isn’t mad (so that’s one examination question sorted) and the decision to have him truly ‘put on’ his antic disposition turns the pretend insanity into a dramatic political act. This Denmark is a surveillance state with a secret service continually present. The heavies may be ineffective (think of the body count at the end) but they add tension, a topical twist and make Hamlet’s soliloquies all the more precious.

Overall, this is Hytner’s most disciplined direction for quite some time, and yet there are digressions that feel like desperate attempts to impress the teacher. Ruth Negga as Ophelia suffers most. Adding a feisty modern touch to this sensitive character is confusing and the implication that she is murdered is frankly silly. Costuming Kinnear in a tracksuit and adding rave music is distracting  – he is too old for it. And it is unecessary.

For this is a Hamlet with everything. Kinnear’s performance is remarkable and exciting. His Hamlet is the chameleon he proclaims himself as, with an over-arching concern for what this changeability might mean. Making full use of the character’s wry humour and intelligence, Kinnear’s grand delivery is perfect for the prince with a penchant for performance. At times he is quite literally in control of the spotlight and he always convincingly fills the stage.

As if Kinnear weren’t thrilling enough, this Hamlet boasts the finest Gertrude for many years. Clare Higgins gives a cracking performance with more than a touch of Joan Crawford (you can bet the bodyguards’ smart suits are hung on wooden hangers). This Mommie Dearest is formidable and believable – it is clear where a son’s complex comes from. A less confident director than Hytner might try to stem her scene stealing glances. But they add immeasurably, showing not only her ability but also Hytner’s confidence that his production explicates Hamlet in a riveting fashion.

Until 9 January 2011

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Johan Persson

Written 8 October 2010 for The London Magazine

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“Or You Could Kiss Me” at The National Theatre

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A London theatre audience can be a tough crowd – we think we’ve seen it all before. Puppets acting with humans in plays? Of course. Gay puppets? Plenty of times. But The Handspring Puppet Company (of Warhorse fame) can still do something to stun even the jaded. The puppets in their new show Or You Could Kiss Me are so alive, even the most cynical will be profoundly moved.

Devised with writer and director Neil Bartlett, Or You Could Kiss Me is the story of lovers at the end of their lives. Ravaged by illness and old age, they struggle with the knowledge that they will soon be parted.

Set in the future, the production uses the almost uncanny device of placing puppeteers on stage to control their fictional counterparts. Adrian Kohler and Basil Jones, along with their ensemble, work Mr A and Mr B. What this must do for their psyches is difficult to say. Their bravery is clear to all.

But it is the puppets that are the stars. Bartlett’s achievement is to have written a play for them. The ensemble cast perform with the flawless choreography essential for their art to be convincing. Their concern for the characters they operate radiates to the audience; every gesture is articulated with authenticity.

Or You Could Kiss Me is invested with such intensity that at times it feels almost intrusive. Alongside the puppeteers, Adjoa Andoh performs a variety of roles, joining the audience in watching this painful momento mori. She is the prologue, who recites Ovid, and later appears as a doctor, lecturing us about the breakdown of memory in the sick and old. In both instances she represents a common humanity that cannot fail to speak to anyone who has loved and, by extension, feared loss. Or You Could Kiss Me is unforgettable theatre.

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Until 17 November 2010

Photo by Simon Annand

Written 6 October 2010 for The London Magazine

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“A Number” at the Menier Chocolate Factory

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How would you feel if you discovered you had been cloned? Caryl Churchill’s A Number asks this question, focusing on the philosophy of identity, and twisting, like a strand of DNA, between the reactions of children who discover they are clones and the motives of a parent who allowed it to happen.

Jonathan Munby’s minimalist production strips the less than hour-long play down to its essentials, with two protagonists facing each other, strategically placed, and in constant confrontation. Paul Wills’ design invokes the science fiction motif.

The Menier has achieved the considerable coup of securing Timothy West and his son Samuel to work on the play again – they first appeared in it in Sheffield a decade ago. Both performances are impeccable. West senior skilfully reveals his character’s darker side while junior gets to play three cloned versions of himself with terrific subtlety.

The Wests deal with the staccato writing and complex rhythms expertly but the text seems forced and becomes annoying. While you can’t fault Churchill’s ambition or doubt her vigour, there simply isn’t enough of this play to make it work. With so much to develop, the final scene disappoints.

Leaving the audience wanting more seems a risky strategy for a playwright. The early finish has its benefits – you will have plenty to discuss in the Menier’s lovely bar – but it does little justice to the talent involved in this production that they ultimately only serve as the opening speakers in a barroom episode of The Moral Maze.

Until 5 November 2010

www.menierchocolatefactory.com

Photo by Manuel Harlan

Written 5 October 2010 for The London Magazine

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“Birdsong” at the Comedy Theatre

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Sebastian Faulks’ much-loved 1993 novel, Birdsong, was one of those books you saw everyone reading on the tube. A page-turner with depth, it seemed to cry out for an adaptation. Rachel Wagstaff’s version, now showing at the Comedy Theatre, is a dutiful effort that should please fans of the text.

The stage version certainly doesn’t plod. The first act deals with our hero Stephen Wraysford’s affair with Isabelle Azaire. They fall in love while he is staying with her and her husband in northern France, run off together and then separate, all in fifty minutes. Action then moves to the trenches of the First World War, where we see Stephen as a broken man. The Armistice heralds his final encounter with Isabelle, culminating in a tenuous yet beautiful sense of reconciliation.

Wagstaff packs too much of the novel into the evening and should have been more adventurous with her selection. Like John Napier’s clever design, which literally emphasises the book, the three-hour show seems intimidated by the novel’s success. You start to think a mini-series might have been a better idea: TV would have more time for the story and it would solve the problem of canned birdsong, which is never going to ring true in the theatre.

Trevor Nunn’s direction is fascinating. Nunn has learned lessons from his recent success at the Menier Chocolate Factory where the small size of the venue led to an intense production of A Little Night Music. Now, in Birdsong, he concentrates on the intimate scenes appropriate to a love story. The danger is that these occasionally look a little lost on a West End stage, but the strategy is sound – he is playing to the production’s strengths, namely, the cast.

Birdsong brims with quality performances. Nicholas Farrell plays Isabelle’s betrayed husband and then the Captain who tutors Stephen in the trenches, and handles both roles marvellously. Iain Mitchell has less to do, playing a local French dignitary and the regiment’s Colonel, but he provides some much needed light relief and should be satisfied that he gives the impression of being wasted in both roles.

It’s the leads that make the evening. Ben Barnes plays Wraysford and Genevieve O’Reilly Isabelle. Their chemistry is fantastic and free of period cliché. O’Reilly manages to show the stifling home life she escapes from without protesting too much and maintain sympathy when her actions seem brutal. Barnes is even better, playing a passionate man without giving any time to nonsense about stiff upper lips and coming across as a true individual we warm to. These fresh performances give the play its necessary emotional punch. They are so powerful that suddenly the birdsong sounds genuine after all.

Until 15 January 2011

www.ambassadortickets.com

Photo by Johan Persson

Written 1 October 2010 for The London Magazine