Tag Archives: Bertie Carvel

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“Ink” at the Almeida Theatre

James Graham has made a strong reputation for himself with plays about politics. While similarly concerned with power, his new work has a broader subject matter and relates the genesis and meteoric rise of The Sun newspaper.

Graham’s nose for a good story is as fine-tuned as any journalist’s. The purchase of an ailing broadsheet by Australian outsider Rupert Murdoch, and the hiring of neglected hack Larry Lamb to run it, take on a mythic quality. These are great roles for strong actors: Bertie Carvel is the ruthless, on-the-up tycoon, while Richard Coyle is the editor whose doubts and determination both mount as he chases sales figures.

The triangle between Murdoch, Lamb and the latter’s former mentor and now rival on The Daily Mirror, Hugh Cudlipp, might have been developed further. There’s an excellent performance from David Schofield as the crusading lefty whose paper aims to improve its readers. An idealistic fourth estate is where politics comes to the fore in Ink and, surprisingly, the play’s very few ponderous moments come from this elision.

Director Rupert Goold stages the recruitment of staff at the new paper with a cabaret feel: jolly, anti-establishment, with 1960s cool. And Goold handles the play’s darker territory just as well, with a kidnapping and the launch of The Sun’s infamous topless models: a scenario that leads to strong performances from Sophie Stanton as the paper’s women’s editor, and Pearl Chanda as Stephanie Rahn, the first ‘Page 3’ girl.

Newspapers mark a generational divide – the young really don’t read them. Graham’s skill and research bridge the age gap. I wondered if we needed a scene taking us through the printing process (akin to his excellent précis of parliamentary procedure in This House) but, yes, of course we do! With a touch of nostalgia, reflecting several characters’ romantic notions of Fleet Street, an arcane world of machismo and lots of cigarette smoke is opened. Hindsight raises smiles and big questions about media manipulation.

The result of Graham’s fun groundwork is a delicious surprise – a depiction of Murdoch that shows intelligence and courage. With a little retrofitting, Murdoch is cast as a business disruptor and credited with the idea of user-generated content. Neither role is that convincing but the ideas intrigue. Murdoch’s drive, so perfectly embodied in Carvel’s performance, comes from his wish to challenge and change – recasting an often-demonised figure as a rebel with a cause.

Until 5 August 2017

www.almeida.co.uk

Photo by Marc Brenner

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“Bakkhai” at the Almeida Theatre

With the first instalment of the Almeida’s Greek season, Oresteia, having announced a West End transfer, Bakkhai, has a lot to live up to. James Macdonald’s production of Euripides’ play is a traditional affair that takes us close to the original. bringing an opportunity to learn something deeper about Greek drama and its power. Vastly different from Oresteia’s contemporary take, the show makes a great contrast and confirms the season is one of this year’s theatrical highlights.

Marked by a strong sense of purpose, Antony McDonald’s simple design and Peter Mumford’s lighting accompany a clear and concise text from Anne Carson. Both Carson and Macdonald have a powerful appreciation of the dichotomies embraced by the religion at the heart of the play, explaining the concept of a daimon and its implications for Dionysus’ crazed followers. Macdonald’s grip never falters as he crafts the tension and explores the consequences of hubris. Most notable is the primary role of the Chorus and music in the show – nearly half of the production is sung.

The star attraction is Ben Whishaw, heading up the excellent promotional photography, and perfectly cast to bring out the complexities of the god, with flowing hair and fey gestures transformed into something sinister in a moment. As with his fellow performers, Whishaw takes on other roles admirably, but Bertie Carvel gets the best of this tactic, playing the ruler Pentheus with confident efficiency, then his mother Agave, with a visceral turn that puts the ghost of his Miss Trunchbull from Matilda to rest. Joining them is Kevin Harvey, whose roles include Cadmus, holding his own and making him an actor that joins my list of ones to watch.

It is the ten-strong Chorus that makes this Bakkhai one to celebrate; singing a capella throughout, with music credited to Orlando Gough. The sound is both otherworldly and tribal – an invigorating mix that keeps you guessing, veering from the frightening, almost repulsive, to strangely beautiful melodies. The singing acts as an exposition of the religion the women follow. The acting is strong, bearing in mind that mass ecstasy is a big ask. It’s when they comment on events and respond to the story that they really move you, showing a clear idea of the Chorus’ role in Greek theatre. Now, as then, the group draws in the audience, making us part of a truly powerful show.

Until 19 September 2015

www.almeida.co.uk

Photo by David Stewart

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“Damned by Despair” at the National Theatre

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In case it doesn’t become apparent, Tirso de Molina’s Damned by Despair is a theological exploration of salvation. It parallels two protagonists – a vile criminal who enters heaven because of his faith and a pious hermit who is guilty of pride, then despair, and ends up in hell. In the hands of director Bijan Sheibani, it’s hard to imagine who on earth would find this interesting, but on the off chance that you have a passion for counter-reformation theology, be warned – stay at home and read your catechism, as this production is truly awful.

The first flaw is Frank McGuinness’ adaptation: full of bizarre anachronisms that prevent it sounding modern but isolate the play from its historical context, it is jarring to the point of distraction. While Tirso’s play is predictable throughout – it has to be to prove its point –what’s remarkable is Sheibani’s inability to add any drama. There’s plenty of running around in circles and shouting, and lots of violence, but no tension at all. Even worse, both the text and production rob the play of any complexity.

What adds to one’s annoyance, and surprises for the National Theatre, particularly given this cast, is that not even the performances can be praised. Only Amanda Lawrence, who plays Satan, really holds the stage, despite this being a play where the devil doesn’t get the best lines. Rory Keenan gets a few laughs as the Monk Paulo’s devoted servant but, along with the immensely talented Bertie Carvel, seems woefully miscast. The ensemble in particular, who take on the role of various criminals and the police, couldn’t be less threatening if they tried. This dire production limps from failure to failure, damned by despair indeed.

Until 17 December 2012

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Brinkhoff/Moegenburg

Written 15 October 2012 for The London Magazine

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“Matilda” at the Cambridge Theatre

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Matilda The Musical is marvellous, the best thing I’ve seen in ages, and one of those pieces of theatre so remarkable that it can be recommended to everyone. That’s a bold claim for any musical, let alone a musical with children in it. When pressed, we know that good children’s theatre will appeal to all ages, yet many shy away from it. That’s the first great thing about Matilda: not only are the kids marvellous, but Matthew Warchus’s production itself is so strong the show becomes unmissable.

Dennis Kelly’s appropriately imaginative adaptation of Roald Dahl’s much-loved children’s book manages to be sweet without being sickly. The story is dark, even frightening, as fairy stories should be: clever Matilda’s life with her parents is pretty miserable and things only get worse when she starts school. There are fairy godmothers here, of sorts, but Matilda knows that when something isn’t right you should sort it out yourself. She’s the embodiment of precocity and you can’t help falling in love with her.

Peter Darling’s inspired choreography complements the cast of talented youngster marvellously and the same can be said of the superb adult ensemble that joins in. Paul Kaye and Josie Walker are superb as Matilda’s awful parents – larger than life – just as they should be. But the star of the night is Bertie Carvel who plays Miss Trunchbull, the school’s hammer throwing headmistress with vocabulary expanding insults, in such grand style that his character becomes a creation in its own right.

Bertie Carvel as Miss Trunchbull in the RSC Production of Roald Dahl's Matilda The Musical. Photo by Manuel Harlan. 11.2-0500
Bertie Carvel as Miss Trunchbull

Miss Trunchball gets the best opening number for a transvestite on stage since The Rocky Horror Show. And that isn’t a sentence I thought I would write in this review. But it goes to show how unusual Matilda is, dipping its toe into insanity but firmly on the side of genius. The man we can thank for this is composer and lyricist (and successful stand-up comedian) Tim Minchin. Not only has he written some perfectly revolting rhymes and a string of great songs, even his incidental music is stunning, blending the magic and mayhem of the story to make this a wonderful theatrical evening.

Minchin’s songs tell stories – the key to musical theatre numbers – and move and develop the plot so that the show is compelling as well as funny and moving. Matilda will captivate you and her love of words is infectious – Matilda The Musical will have you reaching for the thesaurus to find new superlatives.

www.matildathemusical.com

Photo by Manuel Harlan

Written 25 November 2011 for The London Magazine

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“Rope” at the Almeida Theatre

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It is great to see a thriller on the stage – there simply aren’t enough around.  And, despite its philosophical underpinnings, Patrick Hamilton’s Rope is just that – a great thriller.

Director Roger Mitchell maintains suspense by dropping the interval and gets things off to a great start by opening in darkness, the stage occupied by two young men illuminated only by their cigarettes. The murder they have just committed, we learn, is the result of their plan to stage the perfect crime and assert their Nietzschean superiority.

But something is clearly wrong.  Granilo, played by Alex Waldmann, cannot stand to have the lamp switched on.  Throughout the evening that ensues, he can only play at being calm.  His shrill panic breaks through to add to the tension.

The college friend with whom he has concocted the plot, Wyndham Brandon, played by Blake Ritson with sinister appeal, seems to be more in charge.  To add spice to the plan it is decided to hold a party with the corpse still in the room, concealed in a chest.

Invited to this party are the victim’s friends and relations. Henry Lloyd-Hughes and Phoebe Waller-Bridge play a young couple who serve as the antithesis of Granilo and Brandon. They manage their parts with a carefree humour that adds to the pathos of the evening. Michael Elwyn plays the victim’s father and is deeply touching when learns of his son’s disappearance.

Also in attendance is Rupert Cadell, played by Bertie Carvel, a slightly senior college friend known for his intelligence and suspected of sympathising with the murderers’ perverse ideology. And Cadell is going to ruin the evening. Instantly suspicious of the theatrical atmosphere, he sets out to solve the mystery and entrap the killers. Clearly his morals are far stronger than his friends might have supposed.

Carvel carries the psychological depth of the piece, portraying a damaged man who nonetheless contains enormous empathy – for the murder victim of course, but also for the lost souls whose minds entertained the idea of killing in the first place. He also succeeds in the task of putting passion into the play. Mitchell avoids homosexual connotations between the murdering couple, as seen in previous productions and also Tom Kalin’s 1992 film.  This brings his production closer to the famous Hitchcock’s version.  The killers’ motive seems entirely academic, and it is left to Carvel to urgently explain to them the horror of what they have done.

Rope is the first production at The Almeida to be staged in the round – an impressive technical achievement enabling designer Mark Thompson to place the chest containing the murder victim as centrally as possible. However, the chest is clearly not the cassone referred to in the text. This becomes more of a problem as characters speculate that it looks like the kind of chest you would place a body in – it simply doesn’t.

Until 6 February 2009

www.almeida.co.uk

Photo by John Haynes

Written 21 December 2009 for The London Magazine