Tag Archives: Gershwyn Eustache Jnr

“Alterations” at the National Theatre

Michael Abbensetts’ play, revived via the Black Plays Archive project for the first time since its 1978 premiere, is easy to commend. The script, with additional material by Trish Cooke, is neat. Abbensetts has important things to say and says them well. The action is tight, following West Indian immigrant Walker Holt over the course of his “make or break day” as he works to secure his own tailoring business.  

This is an ‘issues’ play, reportedly inspired by the Kitchen Sink school, with plenty of detail about the racism that Holt and his friends face. Abbensetts’writing is nuanced, with a love triangle subplot that provides an impressively strong female perspective. Its thorough, well-rounded characters are impossible not to care about. 

With such a strong base, it’s no surprise, yet still an achievement, that the acting is superb: sure-footed, impassioned and enjoyable. Led by Arinzé Kene as Holt, who is a commanding presence, his character’s employees, played by Gershwyn Eustache Jnr and Karl Collins, are superb as they tackle their difficult boss and reveal complex dynamics. Cherrelle Skeete is excellent as Holt’s long-suffering wife, a powerful role that manages to challenge his dominance. All the cast bring out the considerable humour in the piece.

Gershwyn-Eustache-Jnr-Raphel-Famotibe-and-Karl-Collins-in-Alterations-at-the-National-Theatre-credit-Marc-Brenner
Gershwyn Eustache Jnr, Raphel Famotibe and Karl Collins

There’s plenty to like and caveats are small. Some movement (credited to Shelley Maxwell) could be sharper and – take your pick – more naturalistic or more stylised. Here, we have an in-between that’s occasionally messy. The set and costume design from Frankie Bradshaw is undoubtedly accomplished. But I wasn’t sure if the garments rising and falling were connected to Holt’s daydreams and working it out was distracting. And the revolving stage feels unnecessary as the action is set solely in a Carnaby Street workshop. Too much time is taken trying expand the play. This includes a contemporary figure who makes random appearances and feels a forced effort to give the work relevance since Abbensetts already provides a youthful perspective with the character of Courtney, depicted skilfully by Raphel Famotibe. 

There is a sense that Lynette Linton’s usually excellent direction is effortful, excessive. The script doesn’t need the help the production thinks it does as the play opens up by itself. As well as racism, Abbensetts targets capitalism. The price to pay for Holt’s hard work is the loss of love. His happiness is sacrificed in a search for security. That Holt is warned off his ambitions (by another immigrant, Mr Nat, played by Colin Mace) and seems to recognise his mistakes makes the play a tragedy. The changes referenced in the title must start with the personal – a strong idea that doesn’t need overplaying.

Until 5 April 2025

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Marc Brenner

“Small Island” from NTLive

Andrea Levy’s 2004 novel, written long before the national disgrace of the Windrush scandal, feels regrettably pertinent during these times of Black Lives Matter protests. The piece is a painful example of how systemic racism can be – even the most sympathetic character is prone to insulting comments – and it’s depressing to note that the treatment of those coming to our country has never been something we can be proud of.

There’s more to Levy’s work than important lessons about multiculturalism. It’s a long time before the major characters – Hortense and the men in her life, Michael and Gilbert – actually get to the UK. Completing a romantic pentagon, full of coincidence and longing, are Queenie and her husband Bernard. Questions of gender and class are brought the fore with a well-realised sense of a period drama that’s blissfully free of nostalgia.

Aisling Loftus and Leah Harvey in Small Island
Aisling Loftus and Leah Harvey

Such rounded characters are a dream for performers. Leah Harvey takes the lead as the snobby, slightly spiteful, Hortense, who we still come to love. Joining her as Queenie, Aisling Loftus is just as good, and both women bring out the humour in the script that the characters are more the butt of then instigators (bit of shame).

CJ Beckford in Small Island
CJ Beckford

CJ Beckford makes a suitably dashing Michael (praise, too, for Trevor Laird’s performance as his father, who carries the show’s religious undercurrent), while Gershwyn Eustache Jnr’s charm matches that of his character, Gilbert. Andrew Rothney is also excellent at allowing us to see the complexity of his unsympathetic Bernard.

Andrew Rothney, Leah Harvey and Gershwyn Eustache Jnr in Small Island
Andrew Rothney, Leah Harvey and Gershwyn Eustache Jnr

Small Island’s considerable success starts with the fact that it’s a great story. Both Helen Edmundson’s adaptation and the direction from Rufus Norris use the narrative to the fullest to create a gripping show that feels far shorter than its three-hour running time. Katrina Lindsay’s design is impressively minimal, relying on excellent costumes. I’m not even sure Jon Driscoll’s impressive projections are really needed (although the colour in these great production photos is making me think again). The power of the story comes out on the stage, its message hopefully lingering long after viewing.

Available until Wednesday 24 June 2020

To support, visit nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Brinkhoff Moegenburg

“a profoundly affectionate, passionate devotion to someone (-noun)”

AT THE ROYAL COURT


The subject matter for debbie tucker green’s new play may be romantic love, but there’s very little in it. Five brilliant actors play three couples, and the audience becomes privy to (mostly) their arguments. It could be dull, but is transformed by an ability with language that’s phenomenal. More like a poem than a play, its remarkably recognisable everyday voices are combined with startling musicality.


Language isn’t the first thing that strikes us, though. Working with designer Merle Hensel, the seating consists of swivel stools in the centre of the space, with a raised stage on three sides. Performers draw on green floor-to-ceiling chalkboards. Any connection between their scrawls and communication isn’t elaborated. A more immediate connotation is a tennis match, as words start to fly and feelings that should be left unsaid are spoken out loud.


The majority of the play is spent with a young couple, called A and B, with back and forth scenes of tension in their disintegrating relationship, blissfully interspaced with glimpses of joy and sensuality. With such variety in emotions, actors Gershwyn Eustache Jnr and Lashana Lynch deserve the highest acclaim. Fights, trivial and important, as the post-mortem of their marriage is picked over, have a disturbing rawness. The inventive structure moves perspectives, continually searching the past and examining lost potential.


There are two further scenes, showing an older couple, Woman and Man, played by Meera Syal and Gary Beadle, then Man’s new relationship with Younger Woman, played by Shvorne Marks. The acting is again superb, but these stories feel truncated, the characters less fleshed out and parallels forced. Giving them so little time is one of the smaller puzzles here – so many questions are raised that the play will not satisfy all audience tastes.


The annoying lower-case title alludes to defining something. One way of doing that is to remove specifics, making the dialogues a questioning of Form (no escaping a capital letter here). tucker green certainly provides few particulars. But a warning – trying to work out ‘what’s going on’ is ingrained, and having so little to work with can be frustrating in a play. The trick instead might be to focus on the theme of communication. The characters are said to either talk too much or too little. And their ‘look’ – a fruitfully theatrical element brought to the fore with the author working as director, aided by such a strong cast – shows there is more to a conversation than words. Aiming for a definition on love inevitably falls short. But the attempt at elucidation here still has many pleasures.


Until 1 April 2017


www.royalcourttheatre.com


Photo by Stephen Cummiskey