Tag Archives: Arcola Theatre

“The Pitchfork Disney” at the Arcola Theatre

The Arcola’s new production of Philip Ridley’s The Pitchfork Disney marks the play’s 21st anniversary. It’s a study in terror, which might lead us to speculate whether our collective fears have changed in texture over the last two decades. Ultimately Ridley deals with such basic, and base, themes that his work remains alarming and powerful.

Under Edward Dick’s faultless direction, Chris New and Mariah Gale are remarkable as Presley and Haley – pill-popping, chocolate gorging twins with a psychotic bent. Agoraphobics who wallow in their piteous existence, they tell stories to each other not just for escapism but to perpetuate their trauma.

And what stories, hypnotically poetic, ruthlessly insightful and grotesquely overblown as they are. The cast revel in the telling, with New especially adept in bringing out the morbid, humorous edge. His Presley peeps through the letterbox, looking at the real world but describing his imagined apocalypse.

When the door to this disgusting flat is opened, inviting in a “pretty boy and a foreigner”, we start to see connections between their fantasies and what really exists. Cosmo Disney has a thought-provoking story of his own, and Nathan Stewart-Jarrett’s performance in the role is captivating. He damns the twins as “ancient children” and mocks mankind’s desire for a “daily dose of disgust”, making his dissecting analysis more like a vivisection.

Disney is a performer and Stewart-Jarrett preens to perfection, with a cabaret trick of eating cockroaches. But The Pitchfork Disney doesn’t just curl toes – it surprises. When Disney’s fellow performer Pitchfork arrives, it is into a bizarre, spooky and fantastic scene that doesn’t deserve a plot spoiler. Presley’s nightmare starts to come to life and they play’s conclusion is truly desperate.

If people such as these exist, they surely don’t get this weird without something happening to them. Ridley never offers us a specific reason and his play is so full of themes that the mind boggles. In this way, he leaves us to examine our own fears of “freak accidents and freaks” – and that of course, is truly scary.

Until 17 March 2012

www.arcolatheatre.com

Written 2 February 2012 for The London Magazine

“The Seagull” at the Arcola Theatre

Dalston’s an unlikely place for a dacha. But Joseph Blatchley’s fine new production of The Seagull at the Arcola Theatre takes us to the Russian countryside in a fresh and exciting way. Working with Charlotte Pyke and John Kerr on a new translation, Chekhov’s text seems funnier and more dramatic than ever.

The new adaptation takes the young writer Konstantin’s advice to heart, creating a script that “flows freely”; full of naturalism, with judicious use of modern idioms, it is clear and pacey. In a play so crowded with art and performance, the histrionics and famous Russian gloom take on a comic twist – yet when sincerity comes forth it packs a punch.

“So much anguish, everyone in love” announces Roger Lloyd Pack’s excellent Dr. Dorn: mostly to himself since Chekhov’s characters are solipsistic despite their self-awareness. Their selfishness is played for humour by the ensemble cast. In the star role of Arkadina, the successful actress who can’t stand the spotlight being on anyone else, Geraldine James is wonderfully intense.

Arkadina’s battles are tremendous set pieces, none more so than her confrontations with her son Konstantin. Al Weaver takes the part, funny as a petulant artist, and then deeply moving as he becomes a tortured young man.

Konstantin’s love for Nina, the girl next door who wants to become an actress, is so convincing it gives the whole production a romantic air. Yolanda Kettle, in a professional debut to be proud of, plays the role charmingly, making her character’s demise all the more moving.
Nina’s downfall comes via Trigorin, in Blatchley’s version a more than usually fascinating character. Played expertly by Matt Wilkinson, the startling accusation he has been “grooming” Nina adds considerable tension, making her seduction relevant to a modern audience, and preparing the ground for a traumatic conclusion that becomes as appropriately tormented as the good doctor predicted.

Until 16 July 2011

www.arcolatheatre.com

Photo by Simon Annand

Written 16 June 2011 for The London Magazine

“The Painter” at the Arcola Theatre

The much-acclaimed Arcola theatre has relocated closer to Dalston’s refurbished train stations, and it opens its barn-like doors with The Painter, a new play by Rebecca Lenkiewicz. The painter in question is Turner, but biography is really just a primer for Lenkiewicz’s ambitious and engaging look at women, art and society.

With the smell of fresh plaster filling the former paint factory, it’s all very East End art scene. The temptation might be to see Turner as some kind of early YBA, but Lenkiewicz is too clever for this. She manipulates chronology and uses modern idioms to abstract Turner’s obsession with creativity, his battles with patrons and the relationships in his private life.

Toby Jones is excellent in the title role. Under Mehmet Ergen’s skilled direction he gives a refined, understated performance. His character’s complexity is clear, but Jones allows those who perform alongside him to shine.

We encounter three women who seem dangerously close to cliché. A young tart with a heart (Jenny Cole), a widow looking for a new husband (Niamh Cusack), and an overbearing, insane mother (Amanda Boxer) whose fate, like many an awkward woman, is to be institutionalised. Despite the danger of caricature, all three performances are stunning, the actresses bringing out the subtlety of Lenkieweicz’s characters. It’s a close call as to who succeeds most completely. I go for Boxer, who shows unbearable cruelty to her son and then painful lucidity about her mental decline. She edged me to tears.

Lenkiewicz writes taught, short scenes that command attention. All are impeccably handled by Mehmet: offstage screams are chilling and Jim Bywater plays Turner’s father so endearingly that a scene of only a few moments showing his collapse is a sharp, brutal shock.

Unfortunately such brevity doesn’t always serve. In particular Turner’s fumbling lectures at the Royal Academy need elaboration to clarify the connection between the painter’s life and art. As an essay in sublime abstraction Turner himself would probably have approved of Lenkiewicz’s work, but her effort ultimately feels slim. Taking Turner’s work and using it as a palimpsest is a fascinating prospect, but the result is a shadow that is sometimes too faint.

www.arcolatheatre.com

Until 12 February 2011

Photo by Simon Annand

Written 17 January 2011 for The London Magazine