Tag Archives: Freddie Fox

“She Stoops to Conquer” at the Orange Tree Theatre

Moving Oliver Goldsmith’s 1773 comedy to the 1930s proves a neat idea in director Tom Littler’s new production. Add a cracking cast and some seasonal touches and the show, which would be perfect any time of year, makes a very happy Christmas theatre trip.

This comedy of manners and mistaken identity is well known, but Littler makes it blissfully light. The wit is verbose, surely tongue-tying for performers, but the delivery here is always clear. Dashes of Wodehouse help – the division of town and country and a clash of classes become spiffing fun. And Littler is very much at home working in the round, making sure the action zips along among Anett Black and Neil Irish’s stylish design.

This is an ensemble that looks as if it’s having a great time and every role comes into its own. First up are Mr and Mrs Hardcastle, the country gentry, played by David Horovitch and Greta Scacchi. Horovitch gets a laugh out of nearly every line as the “grumbletonian” patriarch. Scacchi keeps up, despite a less forgiving role – anyone else feel sorry for this doting mum who doesn’t get her trip to London? As her prodigal offspring, Guy Hughes is the convivial heart of the play. He’s great with crowds and the Orange Tree’s community performers who have a lovely pub scene – well done them.

Guy-Hughes-and-Community-Company-in-She-Stoops-To-Conquer-credit-Marc-Brenner
Guy Hughes and theCommunity Company

Celebrations continue with the play’s pairs of lovers. Sabrina Bartlett and Robert Mountford are at home as super-toffs plotting to elope, their roles serving as fitting mirrors to our stars, Tanya Reynolds and Freddie Fox. As the leads, the comedy from this pair is perfection. Reynolds is a great flapper. And so is Fox – the perfect “silly puppy” – especially when his “list of blunders” is slowly revealed.

Among the giggles there is sincerity, too. Reynolds shows us the dutiful daughter Goldsmith wrote, as well as the modern woman we want. When she claps her hands at a scheme, you want to join in. But when she starts to fall in love, it’s sweet. And who doesn’t like a rom-com at Christmas?

Until 13 January 2024

www.orangethreetheatre.co.uk

Photos by Marc Brenner

“Travesties” at the Menier Chocolate Factory

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

“The Judas Kiss” at Hampstead Theatre

David Hare’s 1998 play, The Judas Kiss, takes two pivotal moments in Oscar Wilde’s relationship with Lord Alfred Douglas: his refusal to flee to the continent before his arrest for ‘gross indecency’ and the couple’s final split in Naples. The story makes terrific drama. Under the expert hands of renowned Australian director Neil Armfield, this well-known tale is used to explore the emotions and motivations behind a great love story.

It’s not often that a casting director gets a mention in a review but Cara Beckinsale deserves it. Rupert Everett as Wilde seems so obviously right that it’s strange he hasn’t taken on the part before. His physical transformation is remarkable – the resemblance uncanny – and his intelligent and magnetic performance swings from brilliant dazzler to private thinker, aware that he has been “cast in a role”.

Freddie Fox brings his cheekbones and youth to the role of Lord Alfred Douglas, but he doesn’t just look the part. This ‘Bosie’ goes beyond the spoilt child – Fox gives his selfishness a pathological edge. The Judas Kiss is really a three-hander, with the part played by Robbie Ross in Wilde’s life given the place it deserves. Dismissed by Douglas as “third party”, this integral figure is poignantly portrayed by Cal MacAninch.

Ross’s presence is just another example of what a well-crafted play The Judas Kiss is. Taking on big themes, as Wilde believed an artist should, and arguably sneaking in a few more – issue of rights, freedom and a “crisis of silence” – that make Wilde’s plight feel contemporary, Wilde becomes more than a gay martyr or quotable figure. In Hare’s hands he is made human. This give The Judas Kiss the passion needed for great theatre.

Until 13 October 2012

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photo by Manuel Harlan

Written 13 September 2012 for The London Magazine

“Hay Fever” at the Noël Coward Theatre

The winter is over and what better way to clear the head than a trip to see Noël Coward’s Hay Fever? Howard Davies’ fabulous new production is spring-like in its appeal; fresh and life affirming, it positively bounces along and is a sure hit.

Coward’s comedy about a bohemian family and their unfortunate weekend guests is one of his finest and liveliest works. The Bliss family are wonderful characters, dripping with 1920s glamour. In keeping with their ecstatic nomenclature, the Blisses are out of this world – inhabiting an altogether more theatrical sphere.

Lindsay Duncan is perfect as the matriarch Judith. Not that one would dare use that term in front of her. Sexily voiced and revelling in her “celebrated actress glamour,” she casts everyone in a play of her own making – whether they like it or not. Drama follows her like an expensive scent, with hilarious results. And not good drama either – it takes talent to act this badly. Duncan delights as she hams it up creating ‘scenes’ that include her baffled visitors.

L-R Olivia Colman (Myra Arundel) and Freddie Fox (Simon Bliss) in Hay Fever at the Noel Coward Theatre. Photo credit Catheri
Olivia Colman and Freddie Fox

Hay Fever has a strong supporting cast, including rising star Freddie Fox, whose cheek bones alone make him perfect for period drama, and Jeremy Northam, who gives a charmingly understated performance. Two more members of this talented ensemble must be highlighted. Phoebe Waller-Bridge plays Judith’s daughter, getting a laugh out of every line, and Olivia Coleman is Myra – the only guest to challenge the Bliss phenomenon. Far more at home in London, Myra cattily accuses Judith of “rusticating” in the country. It’s a glorious put-down, delivered sublimely in a play full of clever insults, which is sort of ironic, since nothing but praise should be written about this play or this production.

Until 2 June 2012

Photo by Catherine Ashmore

Written 27 February 2012 for The London Magazine