Tag Archives: Francis O’Connor

“The Tell-Tale Heart” at the National Theatre

As one of the original so-called ‘in-yer-face’ dramatists, a loose group known for their aggressive writing, horror seems an appropriate genre for Anthony Neilson to explore. Here, comedy, crime and suspense are all added to a Gothic tale that is also about the theatre; making a crazy mix that plays with plays and travels from shock to schlock. One part is genuinely sickening, which is an achievement… of sorts.

Inspiration comes from the short story by Edgar Allan Poe, helpfully reprinted in the programme, about a senseless murder followed by a guilt-ridden confession. The update is to have a playwright rather than a madman, and a landlady with a large prosthetic eye that’s genuinely freaky.

Since we know the plot, Neilson’s direction deserves full credit for adding tension: maybe he’s an ‘edge-of-yer-seat’ writer now? The story’s claustrophobic setting is conveyed by Francis O’Connor’s design and the narrator’s acute, indeed hallucinatory, sense of hearing has led to strong work from composer and sound designer Nick Powell: in this story of the eye, the ears have it.

For many, success will come with the show’s comedy, even if it is the quantity rather than quality of jokes that impresses. The Tell-Tale Heart is tasteless, there’s a lot of – literally – toilet humour. And crudity, of course, although a joke about oral sex with a hipster is inspired. The comedy is always well delivered. Tamara Lawrance and Imogen Doel are excellent as, respectively, the contemporary playwright Celeste and her oddball landlady Nora. Meanwhile, David Carlyle is brilliant as two incarnations of a police man; one in the version of events that’s been turned into a play.

David Carlyle and Tamara Lawrance

So, clearly, the play is self-consciously clever, such as getting us to laugh at physical deformity, then reminding us that’s not very nice. And depicting Celeste, harshly, as an easily recognisable virtue warrior who turns out to be a psychopath. Back to that programme, and an excellent essay by Greg Buzwell, who proposes that the gothic genre “mutates” to show us contemporary fears. What might Neilson be revealing? Some people are worried that artists should be exemplary people. It’s a current debate, but a little dull. Making jokes about how “writers writing” is boring doesn’t make the play’s focus on just that any more interesting. On a broader level, are we all worried about not being quite so civilised as we would wish – or is demanded of us?

Raising these questions seems a small payoff for the elaborate games played here. All in all, there’s a little too much genre being juggled. And final twists in the tale (there’s more than one) prove a tad lame. It’s a shame, since The Tell-Tale Heart, beneath trying too hard, is pumping good fun.

Until 8 January 2019

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Manuel Harlan

“Loserville” at the Garrick Theatre

A new musical is an exciting prospect for the critics: the thrill of the potential next hit or the perverse pleasure of a failure. Most shows, and Loserville, the newest to open in the West End only last night, fall firmly between the two extremes. The question is whether or not you should bother to see it – and my answer is yes, especially if you have someone young to take along.

Loserville is a coming-of-age story and, like many in the genre, is probably best embraced by those still young. It is set around the idea of the first ever email and presented to the audience as if they can’t really imagine there was ever a world without the web. The ‘geeks in their garage’ characters have the laudable aim of helping the world to communicate, and the mildest of reservations about corporate capitalism. It’s all very wholesome fun.

A joint effort from Elliot Davis and James Bourne, the later formerly of Busted fame, it’s spot on when it comes to a familiar kind of teenage angst. The insecurity, frustration, even anger of young people, along with their sense of fun and excitement, is palpable. All expressed in perky guitar pop, highly catchy and impressively effective as storytelling, it should be a hit.

The kids coming of age in Loserville do so in America in 1971. This poses some problems – the cast struggle with their accents, especially when it comes to singing them. There’s little sense of period, only the briefest musical reference, and any sense of nostalgia fails to convince. The dialogue lacks snap and the jokes aren’t funny enough: it’s passable to rhyme Uhura with cooler in song, but the sci-fi gags are overplayed in the script. However, the production itself is well done, directed with clarity and conviction by Steven Dexter, and aided by Francis O’Connor’s charming low-fi set.

And none of these criticisms are going to stop you having fun. The story of Michael Dork and his friends’ trials and passions goes at such a pace, any subtlety would probably be steamrollered anyway. The large cast, mostly making their West End debuts, are so full of energy, you can’t help but admire them. Highlights include Aaron Sidwell in the lead role and Richard Lowe as his sidekick Lucas Lloyd.

Alongside their enthusiasm, that sense of teenage intensity means the cast occasionally perform with almost embarrassing sincerity – once again your reaction probably depends upon your age. Bourne knows what he’s doing, he’s sold enough records to teenagers already, but shame on my cynicism – like Google, Loserville doesn’t have an evil bone in its body, and is sure to be a winner with plenty.

Until 2 March 2013

Photo by Tristram Kenton

Written 18 October 2012 for The London Magazine