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“The Play That Goes Wrong” at the Duchess Theatre

Mischief Theatre’s hugely successful comedy started out on the fringe and is now a West End and Broadway stalwart. Running strong since 2014, the scenario of an amateur company, the Cornley Polytechnic Drama Society, trying and failing to stage a murder mystery, seems so brilliant it’s a surprise it’s new. Plenty of jokes inspired by the title are ready and waiting. Add that this spoof of The Mousetrap cleverly uses gentle, family-friendly humour – you don’t even need English as a first language – and the hit status is easy to explain.

Slavishly following the lines while being forced into ever sillier improvisation, the poor players go from one disaster to the next yet, of course, the show must go on. There’s no shortage of jokes, although there is a lot of repetition. Those based on mistakes from the script are less funny, but the slapstick is spot on. There are plenty of wince-inducing moments – especially for the two actresses that end up trying to play the female lead (Katie Bernstein and Meg Mortell) – and real surprises at all the acrobatics on offer.

The jokes around the try-hard performers work, too, complete with their awe-struck realisation that they are performing to a crowd, Alastair Kirton’s nice-but-dim Max is very good here. Their thrill and nerves at being on stage adds an endearing element. When the director, another expert performance from Patrick Warner, who has introduced himself with misplaced optimism, breaks down, pointing out it’s not a pantomime (no prize for guessing the next line), it’s funny but also sweet. The show’s authors Henry Lewis, Jonathan Sayer and Henry Shields, who are also performers themselves, strike an appealing tone with an eye on engaging with a crowd.

There is a danger with any long-running show that things get flabby. The Play That Goes Wrong is so highly choreographed by director Mark Bell it’s pretty safe from this. But some jokes are dragged out, making you wonder if the running time is increasing. The cast are great and incredibly hard working – the action starts as soon as the auditorium opens. Yet it is the death trap set, designed by Nigel Hook, that is the star. It’s a real technical marvel that provides thrills, spills, and the best laughs. The atmosphere is great and the crowd leaves well and truly pleased.

Booking until April 2019

www.theplaythatgoeswrong.com

Photo by Alastair Muir

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“Bring It On” at the Southwark Playhouse

Part of an exciting summer season, the British Theatre Academy has chosen this latest musical production wisely. A high-school drama about cheerleading seems just a sensible pick. But add the name of Lin-Manuel Miranda and you should, rightly, attract a wide audience. In fact, there are no slouches behind this show: music and lyrics also come from Tom Kitt and Amanda Green, the book is by Jeff Whitty of Avenue Q fame. Given such a roster, this is a five-star show that demands respect for being firmly aimed at a younger crowd while still appealing to all.

From the Academy’s point of view, Bring It On also serves as a great showcase for the young talent it nurtures. Even the immaturity of some voices is easily excused. Under the vigorous direction and ambitious choreography of Ewan Jones, the energy and professionalism of all is admirable.

Robyn McIntyre plays Campbell, a hugely demanding role that really is the lead as she guides the show from start to finish. Forced to change schools suddenly, Campbell leaves her old friends (strong comedy parts for Isabella Pappas and Clair Gleave) for a poorer neighbourhood. The move is masterminded by her nemesis Eva (think ‘All About’ Eve Harrington) whose great number Sydnie Hocknell makes the most of. Now the former most popular girl in school has only Bridget for company – a role Kristine Kruse makes a delight – but she was just the team mascot… until now. The stage is set for plenty of self-development.

Campbell catastrophises as only a teen can, and a good deal of fun is had over the perceived high stakes of student life. The new school, complete with cleverly handled differences in teen argot, has no cheerleading culture. Turning this around, with the aim of winning a coveted championship, creates new friends including Danielle, played with star style by Chisara Agor. It won’t be a surprise to see many of this cast go on to have successful careers, but I would put money on seeing Agor again soon.

The pop songs here are good enough to be chart toppers and impressive in their variety. The lyrics are bright and frequently bold. The story itself, based on a movie, is predictable but fun. The sentimentality, updated with a discussion about self-esteem, manages to be sincere. There are some important injections of realism, mentions of race and privilege, that add great power. And a lovely twist at the end elevates the show into a real triumph.

Until 1 September 2018

www.southwarkplayhouse.co.uk

Photos by Eliza Wilmot

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“Fun Home” at the Young Vic

Jeanine Tesori’s Tony award-winning musical is deceptively simple. It’s a modest story of family tragedy, a shell marriage and a suicide that is never overplayed. The lyrics, by Lisa Kron, are seldom flashy but always smart. Tesori’s music is beautiful, but folksy rather than symphonic. Such restraint takes sophistication. And the show’s aim, of a truthful search into the past, gains sincerity and emotional power through prudent understatement.

Based on the graphic novel by Alison Bechdel, it is the artist’s wish to paint “a picture of my father” that we are privileged to see performed. Bechdel is a lesbian and her father slept with men. Rather than supporting one another, in the style of the Gay Union Bechdel joins at college, repressed embarrassment and his frustrated life remain the consistent note. The roles make great parts for Kaisa Hammarlund and Zubin Varla, who are commanding throughout. But note: there are no sentimental pleas for understanding, no claims for revelations. Instead, what’s special about the tone of the piece is that no apologies are made. And there is a refreshing joy about Bechdel’s sexuality, with two songs of discovery – as a child and at college – that are highlights. Bechdel’s mother gets a fair turn, too, brilliantly portrayed by Jenna Russell. Again, there are no answers or explanations as to why she would stay in this marriage, but a bare dignity that is deeply moving.

The production from director Sam Gold is exemplary in its understanding of the piece – nothing distracts from the excellent storytelling and there isn’t a soap box in sight. And Gold gets strong performances from his child performers – indeed the acting all around is superb. Final praise goes to designer David Zinn for a stunning set that embodies the show: a rotating circle of furniture shows Bechdel’s obsession with bird’s-eye views, then a section in New York uses lighting to create comic book style panels, and finally the family home is revealed like a doll’s house. In each case, the point is clear and direct, forceful and impeccably well drawn.

Until 1 September 2018

www.youngvic.org

Photo by Marc Brenner

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“Allelujah!” at the Bridge Theatre

In his 84th year, Alan Bennett has written his most topical and overtly political play yet. Set on a geriatric ward, this is a heartfelt appeal for the NHS in its anniversary year and a play that is as challenging as it is amusing. Using the term youthful as praise seems inappropriate, but the piece feels fresh and bold regardless of the average age of its cast and creatives.

Allelujah! is full of songs and fun. With a massive cast, of mainly elderly characters, there is a sense of studies rather than fully fledged personalities. The experienced ensemble does well and is always entertaining, but it is great lines rather than roles that allow the likes of Gwen Taylor and Jeff Rawle to shine. Bennett adds life by injecting frank remarks and some swearing. It’s a simple but effective move.
When it comes to those running the hospital, conditions improve. There’s still some flab and flat parts – Bennett’s long-time director Nicholas Hytner could have been stricter. But from the hospital’s incompetent chairman, an excellent performance from Peter Forbes, and the stalwart Sister Gilchrist, a role that Deborah Findlay is superb in, Bennett points out systemic problems and gives them dramatic impact.

Sacha Dhawan and Samuel Barnett
Sacha Dhawan and Samuel Barnett

Samuel Barnett plays another villain, a management consultant, and is joined by fellow former History Boy Sacha Dhawan as the appealing Dr Valentine. The pair are polar opposites – indeed a story about migration feels a touch tagged on – but both do well to make Bennett’s blunt approach work. By the time we get to the plot twist, the whole atmosphere is appropriately spirited – nothing exercises emotions like the NHS.

The sensational storyline might be criticised in a younger writer. Given his pedigree, it seems safe to say that Bennett is aware of any potential drawbacks. Throwing a lot of subtlety to the wind, he joins the often reviled group of angry old men. And good for him. Allelujah! becomes hectoring towards the end; the patients’ patriotic singalong seems jolly enough, but there is little hope or glory around. Yet the anger here is salutary, Bennett wants to shake us up and, as a result, his play is a surprise.

Until 29 September 2018

www.bridgetheatre.co.uk

Photos by Manuel Harlan

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“Bat Out of Hell” at the Dominion Theatre

Unlike many musicals based on a back catalogue, you don’t need to be a fan of composer Jim Steinman to enjoy this piece. The music, as its regular performer Meat Loaf appreciated, has a theatricality that transfers easily to the stage. Top-notch production values and performances make the ticket safe value. And there’s an injection of insanity that ensures the show stands out.

As with a previous hit at the Dominion, We Will Rock You, based on the music of Queen, the book for the show, also by Steinman, is set in a dystopian future. A mutation fixing our hero Strat at the age of 18 results in a strange Peter Pan figure. Leaving aside his odd taste in poetry, it makes an ethereally bizarre lead for Andrew Polec, who takes on the part with astonishing bravado. Polec doesn’t deliver a single note without treating it like grand opera and barely stays still for a moment.

Strat falls for Raven, daughter of the dastardly Falco, enemy to Strat’s particular Lost Boys. Why he’s a villain isn’t that clear as the focus is on his marriage. Whatever, there are great performances from Rob Fowler and Sharon Sexton as both parents, and a look back on their courting is a real highlight. As for Raven, a sincere effort has been made with the role and Christina Bennington tries her best. But let’s just say she still ends up, well… straddling… rather a lot. Add to the Romeo and Juliet vibe, a bizarre Tink(erbell) for Strat’s Rebel Without A Cause, a younger Sal Mineo character  who’s devoted until spurned. There’s no lack of narrative, and it’s all great fun. Remember everyone is as camp as Christmas and the whole thing becomes brilliantly mad.

The music itself is well constructed – you don’t sell as many records as Steinman without knowing a thing or two – but the triumph for the show comes with Robert Emery’s musical direction and Steve Sidwell’s orchestration. Variety is injected into even those famous ballads, adapted into ensemble pieces with performers belting them out. Some of the lyrics are shocking – “You’re a ghost and I’ve been cursed but if you were exorcised it would only make it worse” – but, no matter how bad they are, Steinman repeats lines (a lot) injecting a mock profundity that becomes infectious. To top it all is Jon Bausor’s design, which has two sequences, a bike crash and a drug-induced dream, that use stunning special effects. Such technical skill combined with the inexplicably goofy make Bat Out of Hell jaw-droppingly great.

Until 5 January 2019

www.batoutofhellmusical.com

Photo by Specular

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“Pity” at the Royal Court

Rory Mullarkey is a playwright who explores allegory and fable. It gives his voice standout and makes him easily described as experimental. Self-conscious in telling tales and quick to point out quirks, his skill is clear, and this story of a “completely and utterly archetypal town”, subjected to a series of incredible tragedies, gets some big laughs. It’s the treatment, a mix of the ludicrous and the deadpan, that is the focus and used to examine our compassion. Arguably, this investigation of delivery – the way the story is told – while of keen interest to theatre practitioners is clearly of less appeal to a general audience.

While stripping the scenario back seems to make a distinctly academic point – I am open to suggestions, but the text is so reductive it rules out other options – it is an achievement to stage something so stark. Characterisation and plot are reduced to parody. Mullarkey’s imagination is fecund and his play full of exaggeration, as the mostly nameless characters meet and die in ever more inventive fashion. Bringing the events of an apocalypse-in-a-day to the stage takes real guts.

This is a mixed job from director Sam Pritchard. His tactic seems to be to maximalise. Along with Chloe Lamford’s set and plentiful props, most of which fall from the sky, we have quirky movement direction from Sasha Milavic Davies, and lots of noise and lots of lights. But added together, it all highlights the script’s flaws and makes the show too slow, with too many speeches padded out. Some ideas are good (I liked the brass band and the tanks), but others, like an extended battle between the Reds and the Blues, repeated ad nauseum, are truly terrible.

Pritchard does well with his cast: a committed ensemble who seem to be having fun. Sophia Di Martino and Abraham Popoola take the leads as survivors of events. After overcoming each disaster, they tell each other, “I’m all right”, and they manage to make this tiresome repetition almost effective. And there’s great work from Helena Lymbery as the Prime Minister and Sandy Grierson as the Red Warlord. But all the cast impress. Time and again, they save scenes with charm and bring out Mullarkey’s humour. There’s a lot of bravery here, not least with the play’s hostage-to-fortune title, but no amount of effort or energy manages to make it all worth bothering with.

Until 11 August 2018

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Helen Murray

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“One for Sorrow” at the Royal Court

If you’ve ever used #opendoor in the charitable spirit of helping a stranger, then Cordelia Lynn’s new play presents a challenge. Using the scenario of a terrorist attack, with one middle-class family trying to be of use, Lynn hosts a struggle between generations and exposes tensions in our society with a degree of honesty that’s as uncomfortable and insightful as it is funny.

Emma and Bill are the baby boomers who open their home to John, who is in need of safety for the night. But the invitation to stay is issued by their daughters. And it doesn’t take long for suspicions about John’s backpack to foul the atmosphere. How quickly did you wonder why he wouldn’t take off his coat?

Emma and Bill were idealistic… sorry, are idealistic… but “realistic, too, now”. All that liberal angst and first-world privilege makes these great roles for Sarah Woodward – truly commanding – and Neil Dudgeon, whose emasculation is the stuff of Daily Mail nightmares. Full of fear, then guilt about that fear, they fall over themselves to accommodate, and stand their ground. Lynn mines the couple’s parenting methods with chilling skill.

Their two bundles of joy are Imogen and Chloe, played with aplomb by Pearl Chanda and Kitty Archer, straight from Millennial casting. “We’re not girls, we’re women,” they cry – instantly and in unison. Correct, of course, but parroted? Their naivety comes close to incredible, and Lynn treads a fine line in making them believable. Or perhaps it’s the other way around? Younger audiences might feel that it’s the parents who are caricatures. Wherever your sympathies, lie Lynn plays with them to perfection.

Irfan Shamji
Irfan Shamji

There is a stumble, with the role of the family’s caller, who inspects… but doesn’t bear much inspection himself. Capably performed by Irfan Shamji, it’s clear an effort has been made to make John more than a device, but he is a still too much of a foil (an uncomfortable irony for the noble intentions here). But this is small blip in an outstanding script, and director James Macdonald does a superb job throughout, injecting considerable tension that adds a charge to the comedy.

The delicious satire would be enough to recommend the play, but Lynn has loftier aims. Chanda’s character comes to dominate after the interval, and her performance goes from strength to strength. Ideas take over as One For Sorrow becomes more intense, increasingly bizarre and didactic. The potential relationship between Imogen and John forms a kind of test for cultures. Think A Passage to India with overtones of Adam and Eve! It makes the literal incomprehension between them – magpies come into it and it’s too brilliant to spoil – ultimately bleak. The suggestion that our comfortable homes and lives may be not just vulnerable, but actually the catalyst for danger, is a stretch. But the writing is of such consistent quality that it deserves the utmost respect.

Until 11 August 2018

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Johan Persson

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“The One” at the Soho Theatre

While this revival of Vicky Jones’ 2014 play may well offer insight into fast-evolving sexual politics, a piece this strong needs no excuse to be staged again and again. This intelligently written relationship drama is as funny as it is dramatic – and remarkably brave, as well as frank, in addressing the power dynamics between those in love.

Harry and Jo’s affair serves as the battleground to examine some pretty dark fantasies and fears. It would be too easy to say they are dysfunctional; even though we are provided with a foil in Harry’s besotted friend Kerry, expertly depicted by Julia Sandiford, presented as the woman he should really be with. Though they’re viciously cruel to one another, playing with the vulnerabilities partners know most about, we believe that Harry and Jo believe that their love is “above the rules”. And we come to pity them for their “kind of funny, kind of sad” state.

Jones is careful to make this conflict between man and woman even handed, it would make pretty poor drama otherwise. But Harry is not a likeable figure. While not a stereotype, his sexual hang-ups are tiresomely predictable and his mansplaining is fuelled by having shacked up with a former student. He doesn’t even understand his power or privilege and The One is clear that such ignorance is no excuse. But he isn’t a villain and John Hopkins, who takes the part, works admirably well to make this clear.

Jo is the kind of blissful breath of fresh air for female characters that has brought Jones and her sometime collaborator Phoebe Waller-Bridge such success. A femme fatale who kills the thing she loves, Jo’s complex, unapologetic and far from a victim (note how little backstory she has). Playing with honesty is a dangerous game and Jo is determined to have the upper hand. Knocking down taboos like nine pins makes her exciting to watch and, frankly, exhausting, and Tuppence Middleton goes all out in the role.

Director Steve Marmion is in perfect sympathy with the fast-paced script, never failing to pause for a punchline – of which there are many – perfectly reflecting the brilliant dialogue. It is the confrontational qualities that appeal most in Jones’ story. The sexual violence and discussions of rape are not for the faint hearted, and gasp-worthy moments, arising from both humour and tension, confirm the play’s power to deal with both our most topical and universal issues. This is a play for today that has real staying power.

Until 25 August 2018

www.sohotheatre.com

Photo by Helen Maybanks

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“It Happened in Key West” at the Charing Cross Theatre

If you are going to base a musical on a true story, it makes sense to choose an incredible one. Jill Santoriello, Jason Huza and Jeremiah James, who co-wrote the book for this new show, picked the you-couldn’t-make-it-up story of Count Carl von Casel. Shipwrecked off Cuba, although unqualified he treated a young girl for tuberculosis, dug her up after she died, “married” her, then lived with her body for seven years. At her request. You really can try to make a show out of anything and the result of such bravado here is intriguingly insane and often entertaining.

Santoriello’s score makes us, for the most part, forget how icky the whole thing is. But the unashamed romanticism of the music, while pleasant, makes the love affair a little dull. And very old fashioned. The piece may start in the 1930s but with such an off-beat story you might expect more musical quirks – such a crazy tale needs to be madder overall. When it comes to the comic implications of the scenario, the show gets better (and the lyrics, by Santoriello with Huza, improve immeasurably). There are several jolly moments and even some jazz hands.

It’s an irony that the show doesn’t have enough life. Several subplots appear and are killed off: a scientific rival for the Count and a mercenary sister for his love – throw ‘em a song please. While a tight-knit community is part of the plot, there’s little sense of the titular location. Frustratingly, a device is present – a group of local troubadours – but isn’t exploited enough. The celebrity that Von Casel suffers upon exposure, with locals seeing the chance to make money from the story, is a highlight, until the satire is traded for sentimentality. Efforts to make the show moving are valiant if misguided. But the biggest problem is with our heroine, Elena. To be clear, Alyssa Martyn is great in the part, sounding super, smiling and simpering with the best of them. But this character, who would endanger Alison Bechdel’s health, is dead on arrival and doesn’t get any better in the afterlife.

So, we are left with the story of the Count and, thankfully, that’s an interesting one. Eccentrics can get away with a lot… although maybe not making life-size dolls of dead women. And it’s a great move to make sure Carl never realises how strange he is. Far too much rests on the lead, but the production is blessed with the casting of Wade McCollum. In fine voice, with excellent comic skills, he manages to make you feel for this wannabe Frankenstein, despite everything. McCollum has terrific stage presence and effortlessly propels us over the show’s flaws. Come for the crazy, stay for the star.

Until 18 August 2018

www.charingcrosstheatre.co.uk

Photo by Darren Bell

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“The Unnatural Tragedy” at the White Bear Theatre

As the recovery of lost classics go, director Graham Watts’ new production is a coup. Written by the fascinating Margaret Cavendish in 1662, and only now receiving a première, it should be on a ‘to see’ list for anyone interested in theatrical history as well as writing by women.

The play itself is more than a little mad. There are two tales that create a bizarre mix, presented in short scenes that make the play feel startlingly modern. There are the unhappy marriages of Monsieur Malateste: first to his “good natured wife”, obedient to a fault, then with his viduity ruined by a new free-spirited partner. The latter provides a fascinating part for Madeleine Hutchins in fine comic form, and manages to deflate the rather didactic tones that prevail. Then there is an incestuous affair between a brother and his reluctant sister, with strong performances from Jack Ayres and Alice Welby, as full of argument as angst. So we have a Restoration comedy, of sorts, butting against a spin on Jacobean tragedy (with suicides rather than murders) in a mashed-up fashion that the bravest of post-moderns would quake at.

It gets stranger. A group of “sociable virgins” discourse between scenes, forming a kind of single-sex Decameron, overtly playing with ideas on gender, politics and art. Questions about natural law versus society are never far away throughout the play and it is hard not to view them as heavy-handed. It’s testament to Watts’ skill that these scenes play so light – presenting the virgins as schoolgirls is the most obviously clever move. Hutchins and Phebe Alys cross over into the main stories, but their companions Lily Donovan and Eleanor Nawal also manage to impress in these scenes. Oh, and two narrator characters join the audience to debate, yet further, opinions on marriage and whether a woman can write a play! Again, credit to the performers who see how engaging the scenes should be; Charlotte Monkhouse and James Sanderson do an excellent job here and with the other roles they are called on to perform.

With plenty of peculiar (dare we say flat?) roles, Watts shows his formidable skills. Handling the eccentricities of the text is truly expert. The disturbing passions, so well portrayed by Ayres and Welby, are made chilling. Cavendish’s wit is clear enough, but Watt’s coaxing of the humour still deserves praise: he brings out the drollery not just with well-applied modern touches, and clever framing of scenes, but by engaging with the arguments respectfully. All in all, an intelligent production of a difficult piece so crammed full of incident and intellect it needs to be seen to be believed.

Until 21 July 2018

www.whitebeartheatre.co.uk