2016

“King Lear” at the Barbican

Gregory Doran and Antony Sher consistently turn out gold-standard work for the RSC. Their latest offering from Stratford is Shakespeare’s tragic monarch – a big challenge no matter how good your credentials – and they deliver in predictably impeccable style. Here, Lear is presented as a pagan priest. With Celtic touches from designerNiki Turner and an imperiousness from Sher that few could match, exhortations to the gods make a lot of sense. And there are plenty of well-used supernumeraries: Lear’s “insolent retinue” of Knights are out in force, while the unwashed masses that the king has neglected are there from the start. The additions, on top of traditional foundations, ensure interest and create a grand scale.

Despite Doran’s keen eye on the extras, Sher’s Lear has been allowed to overpower the production. The rest of the cast includes some fine performances, but other roles struggle to make a mark. One exception is Antony Byrne’s Kent, whose transformation into Caius is so fine that you almost believe he’s unrecognisable. Another is Paapa Essiedu’s Edmund. The parallel plot of the elderly Gloucester’s trials and his bastard son’s betrayal is delivered with intelligence and vigour. Essiedu joins the list of ones to watch.

As for Sher in the title role, while it has to be admitted that he takes few gambles, his delivery never fails. This is a physically frail old king, whose movements seem limited and difficult. Oddly, this fails to generate the sympathy you might expect and means tension slacks at some points when Lear should still seem capable of violent assault. But it’s a classy affair with key speeches marked out (it’s easy to imagine the pages turned down in a copy of the text), and Sher always sounds splendid. His charismatic presence further consolidates our monumental impression of this colossal production.

Until 23 December 2016

www.barbican.org.uk

Photo by Ellie Kurttz

2016

“In The Heights” at King’s Cross Theatre

A visit to Lin-Manuel Miranda’s first show is essential preparation for his Hamilton next year. Another success story, it has had a 15-month run, after a premiere at the Southwark Playhouse, sharing a King’s Cross venue with The Railway Children. Strong enough to leave an impression wherever it finds a home, the traverse staging here, expertly handled by director Luke Sheppard and serving Drew McOnie’s energetic choreography superbly, seems especially suited for such an engaging piece.

There’s a lot of love surrounding In The Heights, not least from its dedicated young fans. Firstly, there’s love of community – namely, the area of New York that provides a setting. Two matriarchs, the elderly Abuela and the satisfyingly camp beauty salon owner Daniela, create a sense of heritage with impressive efficiency (as well as providing great roles for Norma Atallah and Aimie Atkinson). Home is the key, with nods to the problems of gentrification, and Quiara Alegría Hudes’ book works well here.

Then there’s love within the family. Most obviously with the Rosarios, who struggle with their daughter’s decision to drop out of college and start dating one of their employees. The production is lucky to have David Bedella beefing out the role of the father – he is always superb – while Juliet Gough matches him in a solo number that makes you feel she is underused. It’s a shame they couldn’t also fit in a sense of their own love affair – it seems too much time was spent on that American dream.

Which brings us to romance. Not one but two struggling couples create sweet moments. There’s Nina Rosario’s star-crossed affair with Benny (both Gabriela Garcia and Arun Blair-Mangat sing their parts deliciously). And Usnavi, with his fumbling approaches to Vanessa, another strong female character that Sarah Naudi makes the most of. Usnavi is a star role for Sam Mackay, who makes light work of his task as narrator and utilises his character’s diffidence well. Alongside great chemistry with well-meaning cousin Sonny, a sterling performance from Damian Buhagiar, it all goes to make a hero out of this everyday guy, which drives the show marvellously.

There are some stumbles from the book when it comes to rounding off stories and a sentimentality that’s hardly sophisticated. But the staging, including a brilliant scene during a power blackout, dancing and energy are all terrific. Miranda’s music is an innovative blend of rap with the Spanish heritage of Manhattan Heights, which revels in its multiculturalism. It’s complex but never alienating. Likewise, the spirit of the piece is a simple one. With a strong knowledge of musical theatre, for all its originality, this is a good old-fashioned show full of big emotions.

Until 8 January 2017

www.intheheightslondon.com

Photos by Johan Persson

2016

“Love” at the National Theatre

Christmas theatre offerings on the South Bank are a good mix. There’s family fun from Peter Pan, a tense thriller with The Red Barn, and then there’s this new ‘think piece’ written and directed by Alexander Zeldin. A story of those living on benefits, housed by their unspecified council in emergency accommodation, it’s a timely look at Britain today. Emotional, quietly confrontational and hugely powerful, this is one of those plays you feel everyone should see.

The focus is on a couple with two children, and another on the way, roles that Janet Etuk and Luke Clarke tackle commendably. The play relies heavily on performances from their character’s children and on the press night both youngsters were utterly convincing. We only glimpse the lives of some neighbours, while in the next room are a mother and son, whose vulnerability mounts to an almost unbearable degree.

Love is not for the squeamish. Anna Calder-Marshall’s brave performance as the elderly Barbara is disturbing (causing at least two audience members to break down). And, as her struggling, well meaning son, Nick Holder taps into raw emotion that comes close to overpowering. With tension all around – candidly portrayed – we still see the better sides of those in such dire situations. The title tells it all and saves the play from being entirely bleak.

Theatrically, this is a work of remarkable economy – yes, austerity even. So much has been stripped away that there’s little back story, hardly any action, and no pontificating commentary. Without sensationalism, Zeldin is not about presenting an exploration of how people end up on benefits or why the system is failing. Instead, the play is an eye- opening appeal, a stark insight that leaves judgement aside and calls for action.

Until 10 January 2017

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Sarah Lee

2016

“Muted” at The Bunker Theatre

As the penultimate instalment of an excitingly diverse inaugural season this new venue, right next to the Menier Chocolate Factory, presents a musical. It’s a new, British, piece – always welcome – with strong song writing from Tim Prottey-Jones and Tori Allen-Martin that makes it easy to recommend the show to anyone interested in musical theatre.

Allen-Martin, brimming with talent, also performs as Lauren, caught in a love triangle with two old friends, former members of a promising rock band. Jake is Lauren’s current boyfriend, a role Jos Slovick expertly creates an interesting sinister edge for, while former partner Michael is suffering from depression following a traumatic event. Michael is played by David Leopold, with the character’s selective mutism leading to an admirably intense performance. He is joined in a series of flashbacks by his younger self, a role tackled impressively by Edd Campbell Bird.

Jos Slovick
Jos Slovick

Sarah Henley’s book reveals the back story too slowly, adding a sense of mystery that isn’t needed as the story contains plenty of drama. The roles of Michael’s uncle and mother (strong performances by Mark Hawkins and Helen Hobson) could easily bear elaboration. Director Jamie Jackson is keen to impress a mark on the show. Unfortunately, the super-stylish set from Sarah Beaton, a moated island for Michael that the cast paddle around in and an overused swing, along with some modish choreography, also repetitive, prove distracting.

A lot of the production is simply trying too hard – unnecessary when the basics are all present and correct. Muted has some important contemporary concerns and fresh dialogue that Jackson secures strong performances with. The neat idea of having a central character that doesn’t speak or sing until late in the show is nicely handled and twists in the story are engaging. Most importantly, the songs are good; a forceful collection of mature numbers that come together satisfactorily in an increasingly powerful second half. Muted is a musical whose praise should be loudly shouted.

Until 7 January 2017

www.bunkertheatre.com

Photos by Savannah Photographic

2016

“The Children” at the Royal Court

The critical consensus seems to be that Lucy Kirkwood’s new play is slow. True, it’s three talking heads: retired physicists coming to terms with a disaster at the nuclear power plant that they built and tackling personal meltdowns along the way. But Kirkwood’s wit – there are some very good jokes here – and some fantastic characterisation make her play so entertaining it grips from start to finish.

Against the dramatic backdrop of exclusion zones and power cuts, director James Macdonald allows the dynamics between three old friends (and lovers) to develop, doing justice to Kirkwood’s observations and dialogue. The carefully crafted performances are strong. Ron Cook plays Robin, who feels “eroded”, with a grumpy old man act that proves more complex than the first gags suggest. Francesca Annis performs as his one-time mistress, Rose, making the most of her character’s humour and mystery; reappearing after many years to pose the play’s dilemma – her plan to return to the toxic plant to replace younger workers who have more of their lives ahead of them.

In a year that’s seen several strong roles for mature women (there are interesting parallels here with Caryl Churchill’s Escaped Alone, which makes a welcome return early next year), Rose is joined by Ron’s wife Hazel, a brilliant part that allows Deborah Findlay to make the play her own. The atmosphere surrounding this “cautious” character crackles with tension, and the relationship with her husband is full of credible touches. Findlay even lights candles in character: carefully using only one match to suggest, ironically, eco-friendly convictions.

Hazel is appalled by Rose’s self-sacrificing suggestion – she doesn’t see her life as anywhere near over. Behind the homely touches there’s a steeliness that present the counter argument. Kirkwood isn’t simply baby-boomer-bashing, but it’s pretty clear where she thinks the moral obligation lies. Children is a less showy affair than the playwright’s biggest hit, Chimerica, or her previous work at the Royal Court, NSFW. The theme tackled, the responsibility of one generation to another, is thought provoking – this problem feels real world and ripe for exploration. But the presentation and symbolism are too blunt. Utilitarianism is a hard taskmaster and doesn’t leave a dramatist much room for manoeuvre.

Until 14 January 2016

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Johan Persson

2016

“Lazarus” at the King’s Cross Theatre

The starting point for David Bowie’s hit musical is Walter Tevis’s book, which was turned into a film by Nicolas Roeg, The Man Who Fell To Earth, which Bowie starred in. And heaven help you if didn’t know that. Lazarus is a sequel, brought up to date, to our own confusing times, following an alien stranded amongst us. Newton the extra terrestrial, stricken by gin-soaked delusions, is homesick and lovelorn. Much, or most, of the action happens within his broken psyche – and remember, this is an alien mind – with characters and events set free from time and described by him as “a dream, a delusion, a chemical belch inside my head”. In his desire to travel home, Newton’s travails are trippy, to say the least.

Given the title, along with Bowie’s untimely passing, it’s obvious that death is the theme here. Impressively, there’s nothing morbid or sentimental about it. Instead, it’s a remarkably objective questioning of mortality, in connection with cognition, that results in an intellectually engaging piece. The guess is that Bowie’s spiritual beliefs are behind a lot of it. Working with playwright Enda Walsh gives the book clout and aids the piece’s strongest feature – originality. If you feared a jukebox musical, rest assured, Lazarus is worlds away from that. There’s original music to enjoy and the Bowie back catalogue used is incorporated with wonderful ingenuity. It’s a shame that overall, (space) oddity is revelled in a little too much.

Michael C Hall takes the lead with a studied performance that’s impressively agile, utterly committed and shows a voice that uncannily approaches Bowie’s own. But the role of Newton overwhelms other characters. Only Michael Esper comes close, injecting passion and some much needed humour into the devilish role of a psychotic called Valentine. Quite what the character is there for is one of many opaque points. Strange it all is. Relentlessly. Ivo van Hove directs, relying heavily on a central screen and video projections (courtesy of Tal Yarden) that are the key to Jan Versweyveld’s cool design, along with the choreography of Annie-B Parson. It has to be stressed that the filmic extras are among the best you could see on stage. And the movement is brilliant. Van Hove creates startling images. But, combined with the uncharismatic temporary venue that houses the show, it’s all too reminiscent of a music video and strangely one note-monotonous in its intensity, despite all that novelty.

Until 22 January 2016

www.lazarusmusical.com

Photo by Jan Versweyveld

2016

“The Red Barn” at the National Theatre

I am happily reading Penguin’s reissue of George Simenon’s Maigret novels, so David Hare’s adaptation of a stand-alone novel from the great author offers the chance to branch out from brilliant detective stories into a psychological thriller of a different kind. Hare’s adaptation is accomplished. Moving away from the book’s first-person narration, which details the mental breakdown of a successful lawyer, here we have a superb ménage à trois of lawyer, wife and mistress that’s better suited to the stage.

As for the production’s dressing – it is truly impeccable. Given that Simenon was concerned more with clarity than any modishness, the 1960s nostalgia goes possibly too far here. Robert Icke directs with a strong cinematic feel, creating cool that isn’t out of place… but feels almost fetishised. The stage curtains slide – up and down, left and right – creating apertures for us. With astonishing rapidity, we are taken to the different scenes of Bunny Christie’s meticulous set – homey farm, glam penthouse – and it’s a real technical achievement. Icke feels the need for a camera’s speed, which is a slight shame with a story this good, but there’s no doubt the show is gripping and the ending a real shock. No quibbles either with the soundtrack, a subtle masterpiece by Tom Gibbons that gets you slowly sliding to the edge of your seat.

The cast is stellar. Mark Strong leads, convincing us that his character, Donald Dodd, was once a decent man. It’s a single event, almost whimsical – when no effort is made to save a friend lost in a blizzard – that changes everything. The subsequent turmoil feels real and, impressively, is never overplayed. And Dodd’s pent-up frustration is more than sexual, an important point that Icke preserves throughout. By the by, Strong’s wig is superb.

Hope Davis plays Ingrid, the “serene” wife, whose husband’s paranoia makes her all-seeing. Davis skilfully brings out Ingrid’s intelligence without making her seem too cold, portraying the occasional moment of frankness with subtlety. Donald’s affair is with his former friend’s wife, Mona, played by Elizabeth Debicki, who also gets the chance to reveal layers of a character that comes to fascinate. Determined not to play the “weeping widows”, at a couple of points it’s Ingrid and Mona’s relationship that excites most. It’s with the two women in the piece that Hare makes his mark, doing justice to Simenon’s skills and creating a theatrical piece worthy of his name.

Until 17 January 2017

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Manuel Harlan

2016

“Tonight with Donny Stixx” at the Bunker Theatre

Eighty minutes is a long time for a monologue. Holding an audience and taking them on a journey for such a span is an awe-inspiring feat. And with a storyteller like Philip Ridley, accompanied by a faultless performance from Sean Michael Verey and aided by director David Mercatali, this twisted tale is one not to miss.

Donny Stixx is a teenage magician. No secret is made of the fact that he is unstable and it’s soon clear he has committed an atrocious crime. But we’re told to expect the unexpected and Ridley’s imagination prevents any predictability. Cleverly, Donny isn’t an unsympathetic character. There’s the hope the boy might be as talented as he is delusional, a wish cruelly dismantled. Ridley’s peculiar brand of humour is central here. “What’s funny?” puzzles Donny. Harsh (bad) jokes are bravely played with, raising questions, teasing and probing the audience.

Dealing with such a downright scary character needs a fine balance that Verey masters. Fanaticism and some frighteningly convincing panic attacks aren’t easy to watch. There’s an array of voices – family, neighbours and his unfortunately unglamorous assistant – all cleverly delivered. The mix of intrigue and sympathy is well managed.

Ridley has a light touch when it comes to contemporary questions. Internet trolls play a part, as do the cult of celebrity and art as therapy. Where some might hammer at these themes, Ridley never loses the focus of telling a story. Taking us into the mind of Donny Stixx may not be pleasant, but it’s an unforgettable trip.

Photo by Savannah Photographic

www.bunkertheatre.com

Until 3 December 2016

2016

“iHo” at the Hampstead Theatre

To give Tony Kushner’s play its full title – The Intelligent Homosexual’s Guide to Capitalism and Socialism with a Key to the Scriptures – is to sell it short. This is a history of left-wing politics and activism in the US that sweeps across the whole of the 20th century. And it’s also a family drama of parodic contemporary complexity that turns into a meditation on death. Thanks for the abbreviation, but it’s “iHo, iHo and off to work we go” with such a dauntingly demanding piece.

It can be hard to connect with characters taking abstract ideals so seriously, but Kushner makes Communist Party member Gus convincing, and asks us to question why the values he has lived by might feel alien. A kind of leftist Willy Loman, Gus is a superb role in which David Calder excels. The declaration that he is soon to take his own life sends his family into a spin and adds mounting emotion to the text. Dividing the house among his children, each of whom make King Lear’s kids look positively benign, brings secrets out of the woodwork, adding further tension.

Gus’s sons Pill (Richard Clothier) and Vito (Lex Shrapnel) are joined by Tamsin Greig, who plays his daughter. She’s the favoured child, heir to all that theory, and, as the play grows, her increasing concern with mortality sees her performance gain in strength. Along the way the sibling dynamics provide a lot of humour. I-Ho is very funny. The younger generation’s complex personal lives (let’s just mention Pill’s affair with a prostitute, confirming Kushner’s obsession with commodification) and their academic partners provide a lot of laughs, with outrageous narcissism and jargon-laden chat. I’ve a theory they’re all imprisoned by identity politics: a trend that’s ripe for exploration.

The part of Aunt Clio provides such a blast for Sara Kestelman that it’s a real highlight. Once a nun, then a Maoist and now moving on to Christian Science, she’s described as addicted to the “metaphysical crack pipe”. With characters like her it’s hard not to love the play. But a warning is needed: nothing about i-Ho is easy. More than one scene has the large cast talking over one another. It’s masterfully handled by director Michael Boyd but proved too much for some audience members. It feels as if Kushner is cramming more than one play into the night. Each of the three acts here would have been satisfying. Cumulatively, by the end of three hours, if you managed to keep up you definitely deserve a certificate.

Until 26 November 2016

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photo by Manuel Harlan

2016

“Half A Sixpence” at the Noël Coward Theatre

The Chichester Festival Theatre’s new version of David Heneker’s musical arrives in the West End trailing rave reviews. And rightly so. Surely some critics were aggrieved that producer Cameron Mackintosh, credited as co-creator, had already bagged the perfect description to promote his work – this really is a “flash, bang, wallop” of a show.

The simple love story of an apprentice haberdasher who comes into money and has to choose between his childhood sweetheart and a once unattainable upper-class lady gives us a pleasingly Pygmalion spin and a hero, one Arthur Kipps, every bit as endearing as Eliza Doolittle.

Arthur may be called Art by his friends, but it is his artlessness that makes him so appealing, genuine and infectiously joyous. Taking the lead has catapulted Charlie Stemp into the big time with a star-is-born moment that theatre goers will find electrifying. Stemp can sing as superbly as he can dance – and he can act, too. In short, he’s the real deal.

Ironically the big achievement of the show, with new music and lyrics by George Stiles and Anthony Drewe, and a book by Julian Fellowes, is to downplay Kipps’ part. Originally an uneven vehicle for Tommy Steele, the show has been recalibrated to allow the rest of the cast to rise to Stemp’s achievements. Both of Arthur’s love interests are superb. Devon-Elise Johnson plays the love-token-swapping parlour maid with credible vigour. The posh idol, Helen Walsingham, is Emma Williams, and, in a piece where toffs do badly, she’s still appealing, making Arthur’s decision a real dilemma.

Half A Sixpence praises working-class culture in a manner that is out of fashion and makes for a fresh change. Arthur’s colleagues in the shop are wonderfully delineated (praise for Sam O’Rourke, Alex Hope and Callum Train). As for Bethany Huckle’s Flo, Arthur may not fall for her, but I did, with an end-of-the-pier number about sexual frustration that makes the role stand out. This new song, ‘A Little Touch of Happiness’, perfectly embodies a postcard humour that makes many numbers here laugh-out-loud funny, with a sentimentality that magically weaves naiveté and nostalgia. All are combined to perfection by director Rachel Kavanaugh. And this is before the storming second-act number, ‘Pick Out a Simple Tune’, with one cast member literally swinging from a chandelier. What more could you ask for?

It isn’t just the deserving praise already received that gives the show its unbounded confidence. In Kavanaugh’s capable hands, taking a lead from the cleverly constructed new material, Half A Sixpence is akin to a theatrical comfort blanket. We know when to applaud – freeze frame on the action and get ready to clap – and when to give a standing ovation. With the keen-as-mustard cast delighting in its triumph everyone goes home happy.

Until 2 September 2017

www.halfasixpence.co.uk

Photo by Manuel Harlan