“Killer” at Shoreditch Town Hall

Here’s a combination to die for: a favourite writer, Philip Ridley, with one of the most exciting directors around, Jamie Lloyd. It’s a team that makes sense, full of irreverence and a keen intelligence. I’m guessing Lloyd is a long-term fan, excited by the chance to direct a revival of Ridley’s first hit, The Pitchfork Disney, alongside this latest piece. Killer is a short work, with a touch more whimsy than we might expect, but Ridley’s brilliant lyricism and imagination are in full flow. Using clever ‘binaural’ headphones, worn by the audience throughout, adds an immersive angle that should increase the show’s appeal even further.

The piece is a trilogy of tales of the unexpected; the theme of killing is loosely applied – metamorphosis just as much a focus, with people changing both consciously and miraculously. From gangland initiations, mass murderers and a man on the run from a psychopath, it’s Ridley’s inimitable humour that excites. The way he plays with genres shows a skill that many aspire to. Making the most basic stuff of fiction original again, the insane sounds sensible and nightmares funny. The voices we hear in all three monologues are from John MacMillan. We only get to see him twice, crouched over as we enter the first basement space, and a glimpse of him as a desperate man in the finale, but the voices he creates in our head complement the vivid imagery of the text. Technology aside, Macmillan’s performance is astonishing.

With a script this strong and this well delivered you might question the need for the headphones and a damp basement location that smells a bit. Yet the technology works well and is well used, with admirable restraint. Combined with pitch-black darkness and spooky lighting (Azusa Ono), there are genuinely scary moments – it’s good to have someone to hold hands with. Even odder is half hearing, over your headphones, a room full of people laughing like drains at some very funny lines as our author applies the admirable art of allusive alliteration. Ridley’s writing is strong enough to immerse us all by itself.

Until 8 April 2017

www.shoreditchtownhall.com

Photo by Matt Humphrey

“The Understudy” at the Canal Café Theatre

Acclaimed American playwright Theresa Rebeck is a name London theatregoers should know better. Receiving its UK premiere, this smart little play, carefully directed by Russell Lucas, is an enticing glimpse of her work.

Backstage on Broadway for an understudy rehearsal, we meet “working actor” Harry (Samuel John) vainly hoping to take over from an action movie star seeking credibility (a well-cast Leonard Sillevis). And, trying to get some work done, there’s the long-suffering stage manager, played with a convincing edge by Emma Taylor.

The jokes about actors are good, while a developing mutual admiration is even funnier than the players’ initial antagonism. And there are laughs about audiences, too, creating a nice sense of complicity. The imaginary Kafka classic that’s being staged allows Rebeck to play with pretention in a way that’s clever, fun and nimble.

The show is hampered by the pub noises near by, but Lucas uses the space nicely. Given an existential crisis that includes Equity cards, it’s appropriate that bigger questions are handled lightly; even humour around affectation can be ponderous, and this trap is skilfully avoided. The performances are all professional, technically proficient and thoughtful, if perhaps a little too controlled – the comedy could be stronger. So while this play clearly has the potential to be a riot, here, it’s only very funny.

Until 11 March 2017

www.canalcafetheatre.com

Photo by Simon Annand

“The Girls” at the Phoenix Theatre

It’s right that the arrival of a new musical should be a positive, optimistic occasion. The opening night atmosphere for Gary Barlow and Tim Firth’s show was extra electric. With a crowd this committed – including the original, real-life ‘Calendar Girls’ who are the show’s inspiration making a trip to the West End – it’s hard to gain an objective impression. But it’s clear that this is a fun and engaging night out, with lots of heart and plenty of brains behind it.

Firth has already written up the story, of Women’s Institute members who posed nude for a calendar, for stage and screen. Here, the plot is simplified, which works well, and the script more youth friendly, which works less well. Big emotions arrive quickly. Annie, grieving for her husband, and her friends, led by school chum Chris, decide to raise money in his memory. They fight stuffy conventions to make this a feel-good, grown-up show that’s sentimental but effective.

As with many a British musical of late, the show removes us from London. Here, it becomes a paean for Yorkshire (it’s canny of the tourist board to sponsor the programme). The view is idealised, but the team have clearly worked closely with the community to develop the show. And, with its admiration for women of “a certain age”, Firth’s focus is on an under-represented demographic without patronising it… too much.

The cast makes a lot out of roles far from complex. In the leads, Joanna Riding and Claire Moore hold the stage and their chemistry leads to both funny and sad moments. The turns provided for other WI stalwarts are contrived and slight, but superbly performed and entertaining. Sophie-Louise Dann and Claire Machin bring strong voices to their roles, while Michele Dotrice and Debbie Chazen show off impeccable comedy skills. The finale, of the group disrobing for the cameras, takes guts, and handling it so lightly is a big achievement.

The music is a collaborative effort from Barlow and Firth. It’s an understatement that the former can write a good tune and there are plenty here. It would be too generous to say that they are memorable but all the songs are enjoyable, and there’s a nice mix of comedy and pathos. A variety of musical styles are included, somewhat studiously, and there’s a satisfying distance from any pop-song fodder. The lyrics are the best and boldest bit, basking in the prosaic, everyday details that embody the show’s down-to-earth nature and generous spirit.

Until 22 April 2017

www.thegirlsmusical.com

Photo by Matt Crockett, Dewynters

“The Glass Menagerie” at the Duke of York’s Theatre

This is the best production of a Tennessee Williams play I’ve seen. Director John Tiffany brings out the text’s peculiar humour and pathos while exploring its status as the author’s first ‘memory play’. A superb cast responds with style to this trilogy of achievements.

The memory play was an idea Williams explored throughout his career. This original effort, with our hero Tom recalling his life with the mother and sister he abandoned, is raw with autobiographical guilt. It is also highly poetic. Respecting this lyricism is one of the production’s fortes, mostly secured by Michael Esper’s beautiful delivery, as well as suggestions of movement, mime and dance aided by a score from Nico Muhly.

Bob Crowley’s design also complements the elegiac air: an Escher-style fire escape and pools of water might sound artsy but are understated. The set is a dreamlike, darkened bubble without walls, yet the claustrophobia of the two-by-four flat closes in on you. But there’s something comforting in that darkness as well, with a hint of masochistic pleasure in the nostalgia can.

Michael Esper and Cherry Jones

The memories are those of Esper’s Tom. Fey, often funny, his guilt makes him a tragic figure, whose outbursts are tinged with a hysteria that Esper handles especially well, convincing us that he is living in a “nailed up coffin”. As a contrast, remembering how complex Williams’ heroines are, there is a magisterial performance from Cherry Jones as his dignified mother, Amanda, whose wit brings out the play’s lighter touches. After all, these lives have their high points – joy in reflecting on the past and fantasising about the future, with realistic fears adding a degree of tension. As “a woman of action as well as words”, this Amanda is someone to respect.

As for the production being emotionally potent, it is Briton Kate O’Flynn as fragile sister Laura and Brian J Smith with a tender portrayal of her gentleman caller who deliver the goods. Smith is heart breaking not just due to her innocence but because she has a wider awareness than her family credits her with.

Tiffany’s credentials are currently high due his work on Harry Potter. Famously in The Glass Menagerie, Tom claims he is a magician, but it is the whole cast and their director who deserve that title here. Conjuring the best out of each element of this masterpiece, they make the production enchanting.

Until 29 April 2017

www.theglassmenagerie.co.uk/

Photos by Johan Persson

“Spring” at the St Bride Foundation

A lunchtime show beats a sandwich at your desk. This perfectly handled half-hour from Frontier Theatre, written by Susan Hill, plays just off Fleet Street and more than justifies being a tiny bit late back to the office. The setting is a sun-bathed bench overlooking the sea, and the occasion – a casual rendezvous between a young girl and her elderly, mute friend – reveals itself as a touching vignette about youth, age and what we want for our lives.

Portia Van de Braam effuses charm as the young hotel maid chatting about her work and wishes and telling stories about her family and her man. The character has quiet ambition and a poetic streak that, infused with an efficient realism, only adds to her appeal. Director Harry Burton has spotted a real talent here.

Her companion – unnamed and unspeaking – is played by Sally Faulkner in a performance that is a highly-skilled close study. She sits in silence, radiating companionability, careful not to offer an opinion through her gentle reactions. We wonder, but can only guess, how her young friend’s fears about future disappointments relate to her. What to do with your time is the question carefully left open. Going to a play at lunchtime might be a good start.

Until 1 March 2017 performed in rep with The Last Dance by Mitch Hooper.

www.sbf.org.uk

“A Clockwork Orange” at the Park Theatre

Anthony Burgess’ novel, a dystopian exploration of violent youth with plenty of philosophical speculation, gains a visceral immediacy under Alexandra Spencer-Jones’ stage direction for her company, Action To The Word. As much a dance piece as a work of theatre, the scenes of violence have an unnerving grace that has already earned the show plenty of four-star reviews – deservedly so.

The physicality of the performers is striking. This is a group with gymnastic skills that are awe-inspiring. Alex, the lead “droog”, addicted to “destroy, break, steal, slash” as he “groweth up” with his moloko (milk) drinking gang is a terrifying figure. His crimes mean that the production, never shy of shock tactics, is not for the faint hearted.

In the hugely demanding lead role Jonno Davies can be happy he earns praise for more than his deltoids – although it’s clear milk does a body good. Both his rage rage and the degree of sympathy he evokes when his character is subjected to a corrective therapy show the talents of a strong actor.

What of the strange vocabulary, with its Shakespearean feel and neologisms? Explained a little too late on stage as an “international teenage patois”, the glory of the original book, with Burgess’ insight as a linguist, is that readers comes to understand it so quickly. That comprehension doesn’t happen here and that’s a shame.

The same-full on physicality that serves Davies so well, and creates many powerful scenes for the ensemble, serves other roles less well. The establishment figures Alex encounters before, during and after imprisonment and his sinister treatment are left with little to do but shout. Both Damien Hasson and Simon Cotton embrace double roles with energy, but the characters are flat.

It’s a sexy show – that’s easy – but the sexuality is edgy, dangerous, a challenge for which Spencer-Jones earns respect. The all-male cast has Alex as an abusive bisexual, which complicates the misogyny commented on in the piece. The performers who take on female roles, and camp things up a good deal overall, add further provocation, but it feels old fashioned. And the humour makes the audience as childish as the characters – an uncomfortable point to play with.

A Clockwork Orange, with its probing questions about the role of choice in morality, should be disquieting. That these ideas aren’t explored with Burgess’ original articulacy might be a disappointment. Alex’s adoration of Beethoven feels curtailed by a hotchpotch of musical accompaniment; how “music is heaven” becomes hellish for him, feels pat. But Burgess’ work is important enough to make any appearance on the stage welcome, and the company’s imaginative approach has a lack of timidity that makes it go a long way.

Until 18 March 2017

www.parktheatre.co.uk

Photo by Matt Martin

“A Haunting” at the Vault Festival

There’s a great starting point for Nathan Lucky Wood’s play. A young boy’s online discussion with an older man quickly includes sexual content and turns out to be even creepier than we imagine. With brilliant twists too good to spoil, Wood explores current concerns about the internet in an original and unsettling way. It’s challenging and uncomfortable, as well as providing a great role for Roly Botha as a teenager running a gamut of emotions: he’s smart enough to see he is being blackmailed, but not entirely unwilling to meet his “friend” in the woods.

The scenes with Botha onstage alone are gripping, so it is a shame the play falls off so quickly. The actions of the boy’s mother (Izabella Urbanowicz), who we’ve already seen in a couple of short and unconvincing scenes, beggar belief. The meeting with our online villain has potential, and director Jennifer Davis adds some nice touches, while Jake Curran works well in the role. But encounters between all three characters strain credulity further and a disappointing final scene only emphasises how much the steam has run out. After such a promising start, it’s disappointing, as Wood can clearly do so much more.

Until 19 February 2017

www.vaultfestival.com

“Villain” at the King’s Head Theatre

This is a great little show. With plenty of issues and just one performer, writer and director Martin Murphy creates a tense and moving story that puts hearts in mouths while injecting some strong comedy. The character of Rachel, a successful saleswoman turned social worker, is likeable from the start. When she becomes publicly demonised after a case goes horribly wrong, sympathy mounts. Flitting back and forth to her former job provides some light relief and exposes her flaws. Making his heroine realistic and modulating a tone of confession with camaraderie is Murphy’s key achievement and it reaps big dividends.

Maddie Rice takes the part. Her performance is superb. Portraying fear while hounded by the press, claustrophobia and panic are all well done. But it’s filling out the portrait that is the point: looking behind the headlines and trolling tweets. With stories of her work life, riotous nights out and colleagues both “coping” and “cracking”, Rice shows her grade-A comic skills. An enthusiasm for life and doing good, along with the character’s selfishness and brutal honesty, endear her further, all balanced with a degree of unfulfilled loneliness skilfully evoked. This is a performance to treasure that complements satisfyingly strong writing.

Until 4 March 2017

www.kingsheadtheatrepub.co.uk

“This Must Be The Place” at the Vault Festival

I’ve waited a while to see another play by Brad Birch, and this piece, co-written with Kenneth Emson and presented by Poleroid Theatre, shows a writing team with strong ears, observant eyes and independent minds. Firmly rooted in the experience of young lives today, this story of family and friendship is full of recognisable stuff, even if most of us would fail to articulate it with such style.

Two couples, linked by the theme of home, weave a poetic dialogue full of wit. There are laughs, but a sense of anxiety is always present. Technology and the “shared, liked, commented on” of social media becomes a pressuring mantra. The everyman here, Adam, debates having a child with his girlfriend and tackles the legacy of an estranged father. Meanwhile, two friends, endearingly hapless desperadoes, are on the move to London. All four roles are well acted. James Cooney and Molly Roberts play struggling lovers: distant from one another in more ways than one, yet still emotionally attached. Feliks Mathur and Hamish Rush play mates with a fantastic chemistry – surely aided by both being recent graduates from the same college – and top-notch banter.

This Must Be The Place isn’t making revelatory statements. If you’re not on Facebook, after a feeling of smug self-righteousness, the relief you feel will only confirm a lot that’s expressed here. Barbs against hipsters, well, who is going to argue with that? Modern angst isn’t that original a topic and the sources Birch and Emson point towards are no surprise. But it’s all presented very well indeed, using the language of tech and a dissonance with “actual life” brilliantly. Writing this lyrical easily carries the show.

Until 12 February 2017

www.vaultfestival.com

Photo by Mathew Foster

“The White Devil” at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse

John Webster’s play is a textbook Jacobean revenge tragedy, circling around an adultery that engenders murders in Italian courts riven with plots and poison. It’s a play about rage and, with emotions boiling (it’s lust not love on offer), needs the strong hand provided here to create a rollicking evening that should satisfy any bloodlust while providing plenty to think about.

Director Annie Ryan shows no qualms about dealing with Webster’s text. Tidying up, with the help of Michael West, the poetry is retained while twists and turns in the plot are treated with ruthless efficiency during a swift two- and-a-half hours. There’s no sweetening the disgusting misogyny. With ahistorical steam punk touches to a scene of sorcery (“quaintly done”, indeed), there’s the warning that prejudice and violence are a perennial threat.

It’s satisfying that a policy of balanced gender casting works so seamlessly. Kate Stanley-Brennan shines in her starring role of Vittoria, particularly in the scene of her murder trial, a riveting combination of indignation and cunning. And it’s good to see Shanaya Rafaat doing well as the servant Zanche, with a writhing physicality that terrifies. Also gratifying is the part of Vittoria’s young stepson, which cleverly uses the skills of Mollie Lambert.

Jamie Ballard as Bracciano
Jamie Ballard as Bracciano

Perhaps Ryan’s embrace of Webster’s black humour is her biggest achievement. Incredulous moments are made funny – we’re going to laugh anyway – with the instant calls for revenge dealt with superbly by Jamie Ballard’s manic Bracciano. This adulterous, murdering Duke isn’t the only engaging villain on offer. Indeed, even the single sympathetic character, Vittoria’s “virtuous” brother Marcello (a good turn from Jamael Westman) falls victim to his own impetuous anger. His fate provides a pause for thought and pace, with the play’s one moment of compassion boldly handled.

Ahead of the plotting gentry and papacy (a great role here for Garry Cooper as a suave clergyman) is Flamineo, delivered with spectacular charisma by Joseph Timms, whose energy and impeccable delivery garner laughs and excitement. Timms makes his pandering and posturing crook the arch evil in a play with no shortage of demons. There are devils all around, a bewilderingly “catalogue of knaves”, and Ryan deals with them all brilliantly. Her patience with the play is truly saintly.

Until 16 April 2017

www.shakespearesglobe.com

Photos by Marc Brenner