2016

“School of Rock” at the New London Theatre

18 November 2016 Edward Lukes

Since Matilda’s triumph, anyone putting kids on stage has more than ever to live up to. Even with credentials as impeccable as Andrew Lloyd Webber’s, this film adaptation can’t be called the best thing in the West End. The fact that it is so predictable probably doesn’t matter – many like to see a movie on stage – and with some good songs added, one of which is still buzzing around in my head, this is a crowd-pleasing show.

It’s the story of a wannabe rock star, David Fynn, fraudulently becoming a teacher in a posh school. Too ‘hardcore’ to bother with ‘gold stars’, his attitude endears him to the privileged but ignored pupils and sets him in conflict with their parents. Recognising “soul brothers and sisters” in the children, he takes them to compete in a Battle of the Bands, fulfilling his dreams and engendering new ambitions in them. And there’s your structure. I can’t imagine Julian Fellowes, credited with the book, broke into much of a sweat, unless stubbornly refusing twists or complexity is difficult for him.

Dewey Finn takes the lead and is amiable, busy and charismatic. With the best will in the world, though, you can’t say the role belongs to anyone other than Jack Black who made the film a hit. The other adult roles are disappointingly flat. School of Rock tries too hard to get the kids on side for my taste, and parents get too rough a ride, but pandering to the young audience makes commercial sense and is done well. The children in the cast cannot fail to impress with their talent and energy, creating a palpable excitement. This pedagogical introduction to musical theatre, a well-trodden path for Lloyd Webber, is hard to dislike, but there’s little here for grown ups.

Until 14 January 2018

www.SchoolOfRockTheMusical.co.uk

Photo by Tristram Kenton

2016

“King Lear” at the Old Vic

6 November 2016 Edward Lukes

Returning to the stage after working as an MP for 23 years, Glenda Jackson’s decision to take the title role in Shakespeare’s tragedy has made this show hotly anticipated. It’s something of a relief, then, to report that the Oscar-winning actress gives a commanding performance. Her Lear may not be the most emotional, but it is subtle and intelligent. No time is wasted debating the gender blind casting – she’s doing Lear, get over it – the delivery sounds fantastic while pathos and power build masterfully. As if confirmation were needed, it’s clear Jackson is not afraid to take risks, showing a surprising element of mischievousness during the most painful scenes.

A stellar line-up joins Jackson, but nobody challenges her eminence – which is not surprising, but perhaps a little disappointing? Too many cast members seem burdened by ideas from director Deborah Warner. There are great performances from Celia Imrie and Jane Horrocks (Goneril and Regan). But overall there’s a tendency to try too hard to make a mark: case in points are Simon Manyonda’s yoga-posing Edmond, Morfydd Clark’s over-earnest Cordelia and a misguided choice of accent for Sargon Yelda’s Kent. Harry Melling holds his own as Edgar, despite a ridiculous bin-bag nappy. Rhys Ifans is less successful with his Superman costume for the Fool. There’s more to his role than being funny, of course, but some lines are supposed to tickle us – instead Ifans eats a raw egg to get attention.

With a set of projections and black rubber sheeting, designed by Warner with Jean Kalman, there are plenty of clever moves and gory touches (watch out for flying eyeballs) that provide excitement. But abandoned, surely deliberately, is a sense of a society – when and where all this is taking place. Warner wants to deal with abstracts, which is her prerogative, and some of the play’s themes do gain when treated in this way (the lust for power is seen more starkly without a context). But surely a trick is missed in making this King Lear feel outside politics? More concerning, drama is distinctly lacking as a sense of predestination comes to the fore. It’s admirable that no laurels were sat on, but attempts to make this more than Glenda Jackson’s show don’t quite work.

Until 3 December 2016

www.oldvictheatre.com

Photo by Manuel Harlan

2016

“Murder Ballad” at the Arts Theatre

28 October 2016 Edward Lukes

This tale of adultery and death is deliberately downbeat. In the hands of director Sam Yates the realism aimed for casts a spell. With just four characters, who sing throughout, a strong cast creates a greater intimacy than the show really deserves. Distracting from Juliana Nash’s music – efficient with imaginative touches – are too many poor lyrics. Acknowledging truisms doesn’t make them clever. Making stereotypes a theme doesn’t make them interesting.

The cast is superb. Wicked star Kerry Ellis clearly wants to show a serious side and she succeeds, despite nonsensically singing that her character “shouts silently”. Ellis plays Sara, who is in a love triangle with Tom and Michael (Ramin Karimloo and Norman Bowman). The two men in her life sound great, establish their thin characters miraculously – and fans will be pleased that Karimloo takes his shirt off. The latter rises above the fact that he has to sing about the one that got away – literally – moving on to a better number where he gets to be creepy. Shame it occurs so late. Worse, it’s hard to get over Sara and Tom being described as “two cats in a fish bowl”. How big a bowl? How did they get in it? Why don’t they just climb out?

The show belongs to a fourth character, played by Victoria Hamilton-Barritt, who acts as a narrator and brings a cooler edge, observing proceedings, with cynical sophistication. She also gets the best song, which compares the tawdry tragedy on stage to the glamour of the movies. Yates takes his cue from this cinematic reference, creating a noirish feel, with admirable use of projections that adds tension and style. It’s the atmosphere Yates crafts that allows us to examine the “roles assigned” – husband, mother, lover – with wit and intelligence. That’s how you work with clichés.

Until 3 December 2016

www.murderballadmusical.com

Photos by Marc Brenner

2016

“One Night In Miami…” at the Donmar Warehouse

26 October 2016 Edward Lukes

Kemp Powers’ play touches on the depressingly topical struggle against racism with calm sophistication. Placing four iconic African-Americans of the 1960s in one hotel room – each of them at a pivotal moment in their lives and with the US on the brink of change – it’s a brilliantly simple and effective device to examine individual legacies and question how much progress has been made regarding civil rights.

Fresh from winning his fight against Sonny Liston, Cassius Clay is about to become Muhammad Ali. Sope Dirisu gives a show-stealing peformance conveying the young man’s charm and naiveté. Clay is meeting with his mentor Malcolm X, performed by Francois Battiste with control and precision. The activist is keen on claiming prize conversions to Islam but political troubles are the tense undertone, as the bodyguards outside the door remind us.

The two are joined by football star Jim Brown and legendary musician Sam Cooke. Both are secular, independent thinkers, about to branch out into acting and political song writing, respectively. David Ajala plays Brown, easily carrying complex arguments with a deft touch of down-to-earth humour. Arinzé Kene takes the part of Cooke, conveying a fierce articulacy and with a few snatches of singing that display an exceptional voice.

Director Kwame Kwei-Armah knows what a treasure this script is and paces it judiciously, treating it with respect. The relationships are woven like an intricate dance. Tempers flare but the friendship here is firm, providing a realistically casual tone with plenty of banter. Ideas come to the fore, with a streak of melancholy around “self destructive dreams” that endanger all four. With race, politics and religion all linked with questions of celebrity and influence, this is an articulate, intelligent and educative night to remember.

Until 3 December 2016

www.donmawarehouse.com

Photos by Johan Persson

2016

“Ragtime” at the Charing Cross Theatre

18 October 2016 Edward Lukes

This is a big one. Based on EL Doctorow’s novel, this musical has a book by Terrence McNally that preserves the theme of hope on a grand scale. The music and lyrics, by Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens, are a huge success, with not a melody or line out of place. It’s the most ambitious show yet from Thom Southerland, who handles the piece brilliantly and deserves the largest number of accolades possible – Ragtime gets five stars from me.

There are many stories to follow here, each with a musical motif meticulously combined into a satisfying whole. An in-depth examination of the ‘pyramid’ of American society, before World War I and on the cusp of change, WASPs, African-Americans and European immigrants are all compellingly portrayed. The fate of children is at the fore, as is the question, what kind of community do we really want? I told you it was immense.

A wealthy white family embodies conflict. Father is resistant to change and disconcerted by the “new music”. Mother, a Liberty-like figure, understands you can never go “back to before”. Their roles are superbly performed by Earl Carpenter and Anita Louise Combe. Family life is changed by contact with an African-American couple, Sarah and Coalhouse, whose powerful story of romance and racism is performed with passion by Jennifer Saayeng and Ako Mitchell. And there’s a Jewish immigrant, Tateh, whose trials and eventual success are the lightest part of the piece. Gary Tushaw comes close to stealing the show (no mean feat) with a gorgeous performance.

More radical discontent comes with the presence of Anarchist Emma Goldman, ruthlessly embodied by Valerie Cutko, while Mother’s brother (a strong role for Jonathan Stewart) joins Coalhouse’s plan for revenge after a personal tragedy. Violent protest is the focus of the tension-filled second act – almost a mini Les Mis as the mix of fact and fiction creates a powerful synergy. Tackling the theme of terrorism, home grown at that, provides a startling edge.

The production’s masterstroke is to have talented onstage musicians, who memorably use their instruments as props. Tateh beats a drum as he attacks an assailant; there’s banjo-playing Simon Anthony, who makes a chilling racist thug; fife-playing Tom Giles, getting the most out of a number as Henry Ford; and an excellent role for cellist Joanna Hickman as a Chicago-style celebrity with a vaudeville routine. All are led by Jordan Li-Smith, the awesome onstage musical director, who holds the whole score in his head.

There’s a lot of history here, but it never overwhelms the show. Emotion is the key. Southerland directs with clarity yet avoids any mechanical precision. With songs as good at telling stories as these, goosebumps are guaranteed. This is one of the most moving musicals you could buy a ticket for. If it tips over into sentiment, so be it. To sum up a big success quickly – see this show.

Until 10 December 2016

www.charingcrosstheatre.co.uk

Photos by Scott Rylander

2016

“Travesties” at the Menier Chocolate Factory

17 October 2016 Edward Lukes

Wearing his director’s hat, Patrick Marber has excelled with this revival of Tom Stoppard’s 1974 play. A characteristically dense affair, it uses the flawed reminiscences of an English diplomat in Zurich, one Henry Carr, to bring together Lenin, James Joyce and Tristan Tzara, thus covering politics, literature and art. You need to pace yourself to keep up.

Formally inventive, Stoppard uses speeches, verse and songs, while modifying Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest (if you need a reason, Carr performed the play in his youth). The elderly Henry suggests his memoirs could be a collection of sketches, and Marber embraces this to create some vaudeville scenes worthy of Cabaret Voltaire. Carr’s dementia is a wicked parallel to free association, ironically utilised in this satisfyingly controlled puzzle of postmodern plenitude.

Carr observes that as an artist you have to “pick your time and place” and in choosing such a fertile moment in European history, applying his own frame and distorting it, Stoppard has the audience enthralled. OK, it’s difficult to imagine many erudite enough to get their heads around the whole thing (you’d have to be as clever as, well, Tom Stoppard), but it’s great fun trying to keep up. It’s so crammed with humour that getting just half the jokes makes it worth it.

There’s a lot going on in Henry’s head, and Tom Hollander’s finest moments come when memories overwhelm his irascible character. Playing his younger self, he makes the comedy work hard. Stoppard even provides the review for his lead actor: parts don’t come much more demanding than this and Hollander really is superb. This this is a technically brilliant performance, the aged voice truly remarkable.
The rest of the cast seem spurred on by Hollander’s star turn, making each role memorable. Freddie Fox is superbly cast as the decadent Tzara – his switch to Wildean mode is faultless. Peter McDonald and Forbes Masson manage to make, respectively, Joyce and Lenin men you can laugh with as well as at. Clare Foster and Amy Morgan’s witty singing battle as Cecily and Gwendolen is a highlight in a show that has no shortage of brilliant moments. Stoppard and Marber run from any potential the play might have toward pretention. Just don’t forget to take a breath yourself.

Until 19 November 2016

www.menierchocolatefactory.com

Photos by Johan Persson

2016

“Oil” at the Almeida Theatre

16 October 2016 Edward Lukes

Ella Hickson’s time-travelling play overflows with contemporary concerns. Scene one shows the not-so-good life of Cornish farmers in 1889. It’s followed by a trip to Tehran in 1908, Hampstead in 1970 and a couple of forays into the future. All show the consequences of oil, or the lack of, in society. Each scene is played around the dynamic of a mother called May (Anne-Marie Duff), Orlando-like over the centuries, with her daughter, Amy, who appears just conceived, aged eight, as a teen and as a middle-aged woman. You can’t doubt the play’s ambition.

The danger here is in overwhelming your audience. Hickson manages to stop her play feeling like an online search for conspiracies with the help of director Carrie Cracknell’s inventive staging and some deliciously mischievous humour. It’s a self-consciously crazy affair, with an experimental feel that has a certain charm. But there are moments of confusion. The box-of-tricks set by Vicki Mortimer has distracting elements, while repeated motifs that steer the audience are effortful. And there’s also a pop song (by Justin Bieber) – an overused trend I wish would stop.

The combination of global politics and gender studies is original and startling. Matching empire and parenthood produces some charge, not least an excoriating invective when Amy’s boyfriend (Sam Swann) is dispatched by May – the play’s best scene. But depressingly, the insights here aren’t revelatory, even if they are well delivered. Scenes set in the past don’t privilege historical accuracy, those looking to the future have silly touches; both are a little too obvious about how we live now, giving rise to a sense of naïvety. This is a young writer who sees the world getting worse and is angry about it. Fair enough. An impressive, almost intimidating energy drives the play, but it lacks control.

Oil is grim stuff. Hickson is harsh on all, not just those from the past, and the play’s themes of loneliness and narcissism, allied to the selfishness of Empire, create affecting moments. Trying to help is a confusing thing and the future will be lonely and (literally) cold. Unfortunately, cynicism overwhelms the text. It’s hard to knock a play with so many ideas, a good deal of them well executed. But it’s only Duff, seconded by Yolanda Kettle who plays her daughter over the centuries, who manages to inject some real feeling and provide a reason to see the play.

Until 26 November 2016

www.almeida.co.uk

Photos by Richard H Smith

2016

“Father Comes Home From The Wars” at the Royal Court

14 October 2016 Edward Lukes

This American Civil War story, much lauded in the US, comes in three parts, following the adventures of its main character, a slave called Hero. Opening with a debate over his ‘choice’ to accompany his master to war, the second act sees a similar dilemma – an encounter with a Yankee soldier that presents him with an opportunity to escape. Finally, Hero returns home a traumatised man. All three vignettes are strong and cumulatively powerful.

Are you waiting for a twist? There is one, of course – playwright Suzan-Lori Parks’ inspiration is Homer. Character names are enough of a clue (a dog called Odyssey has a talking role in the final scene) but also note that, in true Greek style, songs play an important part and there’s a distinct lack of action on stage. So there’s highfalutin analysis to be done here, for sure. Above that is Parks’ skill at story telling. Simple. This is an emotive tale of twisted interdependence. Politics aside, the psychology is fascinating, the writing clever but never tricksy. The concept might sound contrived but it’s a back-to-basics approach that works.

The show is also superbly acted. Steve Toussaint as Hero deserves to be singled out. Having to shoulder so many dilemmas, it’s an achievement to hold the audience so confidently. Working with him is an excellent ensemble – a chorus of fellow slaves who return in the finale as runaways, comprising Sibusiso Mamba, Jason Pennycooke and Sarah Niles. Special mention also to Nadine Marshall as Hero’s love, Penny, whose accent is superb and who ensures the emotions in Parks’ riff on the theme of loyalty.

The play’s questions of identity need little further stress – restraint is the key and with this director Jo Bonney’s job is well done. Moments of direct address or the use of modern costume feel like guiding hands rather than gimmicks, so deftly are they handled. Parks is a shrewd observer of history, an original thinker and technically accomplished. But she also has a sincere eye – with a watch on contemporary resonances and why these lives matter – that confronts the audience and sends a chill down the spine.

Until 22 October 2016

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Tristram Kenton

2016

“The Boys In The Band” at the Park Theatre

10 October 2016 Edward Lukes

You’d be excused for an arched eyebrow over the revival of Mart Crowley’s inspirational 1968 play. So much has changed since this iconic gay text threw a spotlight on a small section of a marginalised community that the play is bound to feel dated. Thankfully, while some jokes do feel old, a couple inexcusably so, Adam Penford’s pacey revival, with the help of a superb cast, makes this a lively night out that stands up well.

A birthday party is hosted by the initially charming Michael, whose demons get the better of him as he concocts a painful game – forcing people to telephone their one true love – with the seeming aim of making his guests as miserable as he is. Ian Hallard makes the most of this meaty role, showing a vicious edge that is riveting while never alienating the audience.

Hallard’s chemistry with his old roommate Alan, who makes a surprise appearance with predictable comedy results, is well studied. When this closeted character, ably handled by John Hopkins, breaks down it’s still a shock. All the more credit as the conservative fiction Alan hides behind seems especially weak. Both Hopkins and Hallard do well to preserve the drama here.

The unhappy birthday celebrations are for Harold, played by Mark Gatiss, who makes an appearance as the first act closes. Too clever for anybody’s good, especially Michael’s, Harold’s waspish remarks cut deep and Gatiss makes each one go a long way, balancing humour and emotional perception no matter how short each line. It’s a cumbersome role, with touches of a narrator, that’s cleverly made light work of.

As for the rest of the guests, the ensemble is one you would invite to any production. They include a top-notch comedy turn from James Holmes as the effeminate Emory, ably abetted by Bernard (Greg Lockett) and the excellent Daniel Boys as the studious Donald, who superbly anchors the play. A troubled couple, whose affection for one another is sincere, are made convincing by Ben Mansfield and Nathan Nolan. Even Jack Derges as a hustler hired as a present for the night gets laughs out of a slim part.

With the exception of Hallard’s role, all the parts are pretty thin. Crowley’s desire to express a spectrum of characters and opinions gets the better of him and never quite works. More credit to the cast. The plot could be generously described as functional. The production, though, makes the play more than the sum of is parts – full of memorable touches and great laughs – and it’s an achievement worth celebrating.

Until 30 October 2016

www.parktheatre.co.uk

Photos by Darren Bell

2016

“Kenny Morgan” at the Arcola Theatre

7 October 2016 Edward Lukes

Mike Poulton’s new play is described as being “after” Terence Rattigan’s The Deep Blue Sea. Provoking a fascinating relationship between the texts, Poulton exposes the real story of what inspired Rattigan’s work – the suicide of the writer’s eponymous former partner – giving a lesson in gay history and intelligently exploring a tragic love triangle.

This is accomplished writing. With impeccable period detail, and well-researched biographical layers, the play has you reaching for a copy of both texts. Those having seen the National Theatre’s recent production of the Rattigan are in for a game of compare and contrast. But Kenny Morgan is more than a companion piece. Using insights into the closeted world of post-war Britain, Poulton raises themes of shame and hope, dealing sensitively with the subject matter of despair.

Lucy Bailey’s direction is commendable in its restraint, her frequent adventurous streak held back. Crafting an old-fashioned feel, slow-paced, with momentum gradually building, Bailey understands what is needed. She has also secured some tremendous performances that confirm the show is worthy of the blanket praise received from critics during its first sell-out run earlier this year.

Paul Keating is remarkable in the title role. Trapped in a loveless relationship with a young man of astounding selfishness (made credible by Pierro Neil-Mee), Kenny’s hysteria is perfectly controlled by Keating. Frustration and tension mount as the hopelessness of his situation becomes clear, and his final plea is truly distressing. In the background is the famous writer Rattigan, part of the “silk dressing gown and cigarette holder set”, still in love with Kenny but unable to offer him public recognition. Rattigan’s public persona, constructed at a cost, makes this a layered role performed to perfection by Simon Dutton.

Also impressive are those living in the boarding house with Kenny, who help to propel the play’s drama. Marlene Sidaway is superb as a char, whose sly remarks about “musicals” add humour, but whose concern is genuine. Likewise, Matthew Bulgo plays a clerk unnerved by Kenny’s intensity and glamorous connections. Finally a former doctor, who gives the most articulate consideration of Kenny’s situation, provides George Irving with a role he is hugely impressive in. These well-rounded characters create a populous world outside the theatrical milieu Kenny is haunted by, opening up Poulton’s play to make it far more than any afterthought to another work but a standalone piece of great strength.

Until 15 October 2016