Tag Archives: Hampstead Theatre

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“anthropology” at the Hampstead Theatre

Playwright Lauren Gunderson takes an impressively calm approach to artificial intelligence. The technology is here, the question is what we do with it. So rather than examine existential threats, anthropology is a thriller – a neat one, if flawed – that has AI solving a crime.

Gunderson takes many already established ideas about AI – which means we don’t learn much that is new – but our suspicions and fears are used effectively. Like Jordan Harrison’s play, Marjorie Prime, the technology helps someone grieving: a programmer called Merril creates an algorithm based on her missing sister, Angie. What happens next is a good twist and the plot is firm.

anthropology is smart and entertaining, with nice turns of phrase and well-handled light touches. But it is also cold. Despite Merril’s mental health, the breakdown of her relationship, and her troubled mother making an appearance, she is a distant figure. Indeed, all the characters are strangely rarefied. Given a title that indicates a study of people and societies characterisation is a struggle and the quartet of people we meet too small a cross-section.

Emotion is led by the strong cast, carefully guided by director Anna Ledwich. Taking the lead as Merril, a bravura performance means MyAnna Buring impresses – she can command Georgia’s Lowe’s bare stage and isn’t overpowered by Daniel Denton’s impressive video designs. Dakota Blue Richards has the tough role of Angie, (mostly) a disembodied voice or video, and excels at both sinister hints and comic touches.

The sisters are bravely unlikeable. It’s interesting to watch how the AI programme changes – as it gets better, Angie becomes worse! Or question how much Merril forces her unhealthy ideas on those around her. But loosely sketched back stories need to be clearer. All the characters seem trapped in their trauma and there’s little sense of them existing outside the scenario of the play. The roles of mother and girlfriend suffer most – while Yolanda Kettle and Abigail Thaw do a good job – their characters are flat and it is hard to care about them.

Unless…there is a deeper irony to anthropology? AI is based on patterns and both the play, and its characters, could be said to follow models. Gunderson uses ideas from science fiction, from thrillers and even the film Casablanca. Having a sense of what comes next – how much you can predict or, maybe, what we expect from a genre – runs through the piece. If that is the idea then it is a playfully intriguing one…but maybe better as a concept than as a drama.

Until 14 October 2023

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photo by The Other Richard

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“Re-Member Me” at the Hampstead Theatre

Lip-syncing to Hamlet surely counts as one of those has-to-be-seen-to-be-believed ideas. Creator and performer Dickie Beau brings such skill to miming the words of others he might change your opinion about lip-syncing itself. But Re-Member Me has far more to recommend it – the show is original, startling and stirring theatre.

Beau uses recordings of previous performances as well as interviews with those who have worked on productions of Hamlet (big names include Ian McKellen and Richard Eyre). All are expertly edited, and the generous contributors come off very well. What they have to say is interesting and smart, but it is also funny and humble. Beau is generous, too. He even allows the opinions of a critic – what a wonderful, clever man he is!

And what does Beau do with this impressive material? Through an intelligent engagement with Shakespeare’s play, the concern here is mortality. Much of the piece focuses on Ian Charleson, the actor who performed in Eyre’s Hamlet just before he died. And John Gielgud features, with recordings from late in life. Re-Member Me can be thought of as a tribute show.

The action is paced perfectly by director Jan Willem Van Den Bosch. There’s a lot going on, but big ideas are given time to breath. One concern might be that the audience needs to know a lot about Hamlet and its performance history to enjoy all this. But, while appealing to lovers of the theatre, the craziness of the idea itself – that lip-synching – proves a great strength.

The technique adds humour (its mostly used for comedy, after all), which Beau embraces with mischievous touches. There’s a fantastic thrill from not knowing what’s going to happen next, especially when it comes to the songs woven in. Meanwhile, cleverly using mannequins point us towards the uncanny. The dummies are redressed and reassembled with an obsessive intensity. By mouthing the words of others, some of them deceased, Re-Member Me is a reminder of the impermanence that theatre and life share. The results are moving and profound.

Until 17 June 2023

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photo by Tristram Kenton

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“Linck & Mülhahn” at the Hampstead Theatre

A true story about a gender-nonconforming couple in 18th-century Germany has been rescued from history by playwright Ruby Thomas. The source material – predictably, records of a trial – is scant but has served as the inspiration for a fulsome and rewarding script.

Anastasius Linck was born female but lived as a man and had a military career before marriage to Catharina Mülhahn in 1720. The subsequent trial of both offered Thomas what must have been tempting opportunities (Linck spent time as a prophet!) that have been condensed to present a focused show with epic qualities of romance and history.

If it crosses your mind that Linck & Mülhahn sounds sentimental or worthy, the sparkling script corrects this quickly. There is a wicked balance of old and new idioms that is a delight. Some of the metaphors are heavy, but plenty have charm. And the dialogue is fun!

The serious subject and often playful tone make great titular roles for Maggie Bain and Helena Wilson, who are both excellent. There’s a strong part, too, for Mülhahn’s mother, where Lucy Black gets to show off comedy skills before revealing her character’s spite and becoming an interesting villain.

Director Owen Horsley gives us romance but stops the lovers becoming too sweet by emphasising their wit. It’s a shame that contemporary music breaks up the scenes – it feels a lazy way to make the show feel modern – but Simon Wells’ deceptively simple set is highly effective.

There are a lot of philosophers mentioned in the play (although, interestingly, not Kierkegaard, who I suspect is closest to Thomas’ heart), which is an easy way to get big questions aired. All the talk of “essences” might be explored more. And the intellectual atmosphere of the age is evoked a little loudly. But the play’s attempts to respect history, avoiding modern labels for its protagonists, while making contemporary concerns clear and moving, is impressive. There’s an excellent sense of balance and directness throughout Linck & Mülhahn that shows intelligence.

Maggie-Bain-and-Helena-Wilson-in-Linck-&-Mülhahn-final-credit-Helen-Murray

It’s no plot spoiler to reveal that in real life the story ends sadly. So, getting the Queer Joy that’s topical (and so welcome that I’ve capitalised it) is hard. Fear not, as Thomas makes every effort and is aided by Marty Cruickshank, who plays Mülhahn’s older self. This is not a big role, but Cruickshank might just end up the star of the show – recounting the sheer bliss of her marriage provides the “light” the play is explicit about wanting.

The trial scene is uncomfortable but is tackled as an odd blend of humour and inspiration. Stock judges and lawyers – pompous, sharp or asleep – are there to be laughed at. We can applaud those who testify for Linck – and both concluding speeches. But the final cheers are for the writer, Thomas. The parting between the couple is wonderfully romantic and a fanciful touch that brings us into the present provides a heart-stopping ending.

Until 14 March 2023

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photos by Helen Murray

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“Sons of the Prophet” at the Hampstead Theatre

There is a Christmas tree in Stephen Karam’s play, which makes it seasonal in a way, but this smart, dark comedy is good all year round. The challenging humour is combined with deep emotions. And in a show that’s all about suffering, the treatment is remarkably light. What’s special is Karam’s distinctive voice. The writing – evidently respected in director Bijan Sheibani’s faultless production – is a unique joy.

The play follows a bad year for Joseph, a fantastic role for Irfan Shamji, who is tremendous. Joseph’s father has died in a freakish accident, his uncle is ill, and his own health is a worry. So much pain… so how come so much of the play is funny? Karam depicts a Maronite family in rural Pennsylvania (reflecting his own background), stressing their averageness. While problems could overwhelm (they touch on the subjects of religion, immigration and health care), humour rises above every issue. Shamji is the foundation for the play; his dead-pan responses to a whole lot of rubbish he hears hit home every time.

Jack Holden as Timothy in Sons of the Prophet credit Marc Brenner
Jack Holden

Joseph isn’t alone. The play provides him with a wonderfully written sassy sibling (a role Eric Sirakian excels in). Their relationship is, simply, beautiful. They squabble as much as support each other, working through worries and grief together. But Joseph does have to put up with a quartet of characters, superbly characterised and performed, who pain him. Vin, the young man responsible for his father’s death, needs help with the apology a court is making him write! Raphael Akuwudike makes the character a figure of sympathy and endearing awkwardness. Closer to home are a prejudiced uncle (Raad Rawi) and an arrogant journalist (Jack Holden). Both excellent performances steer clear of caricature. Best of all is Joseph’s boss, a “wealthy, deranged” New Yorker publisher who is also grieving… and funny with it. The latter is a role that the excellent Juliet Cowan makes her own, taking us to the heart of Karam’s humour.

Juliet-Cowan-&-Raad-Rawi-in-Sons-of-the-Prophet_credit-Marc-Brenner
Juliet Cowan and Raad Rawi

All the characters say things they really shouldn’t. Frequently selfish, crass and embarrassing, it’s not a surprise they are funny. But note, while Karam’s satire is sharp – Joseph doesn’t suffers fools gladly even if he does suffer – there’s no toe-curling here. Cowan spouts her character’s nonsense particularly well. But, as with the other roles, there are snatches of wisdom, too. And there’s little malice. Above all, everyone’s pain is real. Suffering turns out to be a leveller. Karam may keep us laughing at unexpected moments, but his play has real soul.

Don’t make the mistake of thinking Joseph is a stoic – his frustration is palpable. The play’s title nods to Khalil Gibran, a distant relation of the family that makes Gloria sniff a book deal! But Joseph thinks Gibran is too easy. While the play has scenes with projected titles as in Gibran’s The Prophet, I suspect the Philosopher Poet is a tad declamatory a teacher for Karam’s taste. The reversal of pain to joy and the dictum “all is well” don’t convince. Given what’s going on, why should they? And yet Sons of the Prophet suggests that with honesty and warmth it is possible that we might “hurt less”. I’ll take it.

Until 14 January 2023

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photos by Marc Brenner

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“Mary” at the Hampstead Theatre

The frequency of dramatisations and the little learning many of us have about Tudor history make a serious new play about Mary Queen of Scots rather difficult. And Rona Munro’s new play is very serious indeed.

The playwright is an expert. Her James Plays cycle, looking at earlier Scottish history, were a thrilling epic when they visited London. As the latest instalment of an exciting ongoing project, Mary stands alone and shows a master at work. But it is notably starker – as reflected in Ashley Martin-Davis’ design and Roxana Silbert’s restrained direction – and a model of economy.

Munro takes only two moments in Mary’s story – her escape from and then imprisonment by her third husband, the Earl of Bothwell. The thesis is that the Queen was abducted and raped. Munro highlights how impossible it is to know what really went on. The next bold move is that Mary herself doesn’t speak. The play is more about how she is interpreted – and used. And it’s a sorry tale that generates much sympathy and anger.

The politician James Melville is the focus. We see him powerful and then broken, with the moral dilemma of how those in power handle cases of sexual abuse full of contemporary resonance. This is a complex role given a strong realisation by Douglas Henshall. Melville is smart, cynical and a stranger to modesty. Seeing his regrets and justifications make great drama. For all that, Henshall’s ability to bring out the play’s dry humour impresses most (and shows a further skill that Munro excels at).

Rona Morison in Mary at The Hampstead Theatre
Rona Morison

Melville’s interlocutors are fictional characters called Thompson and Agnes. They illustrate realpolitik and religious conviction respectively but still manage to feel three-dimensional. Their passions don’t make the roles easy to perform (Agnes has a damascene moment that might make you pause), but these are strong performances from Rona Morison and Brian Vernel that take into account how a small contact with power can make a big difference.

The three characters talk and talk. It is remarkable how much excitement Silbert maintains in such a static play. The movement comes with minds changing, with characters persuading. Motives surrounding love and power shift and we are left questioning how sensible or selfish each position and character might be. As for the biggest achievement, time will tell… Munro might have managed to change how we think about Mary herself. The play that takes her name is certainly good enough to do so.

Until 26 November 2022

www.hampseadtheatre.com

Photos by Manuel Harlan

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“The Breach” at the Hampstead Theatre

The striking use of words might be the best way to consider Naomi Wallace’s play. With an autodidact heroine, who reads encyclopaedia, the vocabulary in the play is verbose. Lots of cliché and colloquialism, along with arresting imagery that mixes the obscure and the mundane, make the play poetic and Wallace’s voice unique. The script is erudite but also obtuse and enervating. And a little word overpowers other descriptions – The Breach is odd.

The story the words are telling isn’t without drama. Scenes alternate between four teenagers, including Jude and her brother Acton, in 1977 and 1991. A bizarre, cultish competition to prove the friendship between three boys, which turns Jude into a victim, unfolds with tension and unexpected repercussions. The challenge is for the boys to “top my love” with sacrifices that bind them together. But the results, let alone the motivation, are bizarre.

Sarah Frankcom’s direction is keen to preserve the tone of the piece – respectful and controlled with a restraint that results in a static production. Frankcom is sensitive to Wallace’s tight structure but the play itself is cluttered with ideas and detail. Connections to time and place, politics and economics, feel thrown in and the arguments around consent are poorly developed.

There’s no doubt the scenario is powerful. Without a plot spoiler, Wallace tries to remove physical violence from sexual abuse – to question what difference results. But using exaggeration to bring home the cruelty with which men can treat women is a blunt tool. And Jude’s reactions to what happens to her simply baffle. Even the way Jude and her brother mourn their father (another ill-explored topic) by rolling on the ground and imagining his final moments, are hard to swallow (however stylish).

There are casualties to Wallace’s approach – the performers. While the seven strong cast are professional, their characters are mere mouthpieces for the playwright. It’s only Jasmine Blackborow and Shannon Tarbet, who both play Jude, that manage to inject emotion or even much interest. The male characters simply make you squirm. The Breach isn’t for the fainthearted and has a haunting quality but it is too enigmatic for anybody’s good.

Until 4 June 2022

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photo by Johan Persson

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“The Forest” at the Hampstead Theatre

Few will rate this new play from Florian Zeller as his best. But a world première from the successful French writer is a feather in the cap of any theatre. Add a superb cast and skilled direction from Jonathan Kent and the show becomes a hot ticket.

Zeller likes to play with an audience, and you either love or loathe his intellectual games. His obsession with truth and family relations, with reality and mental illness, are familiar from hit shows such The Father and The Son. In The Forest, additional surreal touches and elements of a thriller make this story of infidelity original and entertaining.

“Sad and strange”

The Forest has three romantic affairs, well, two, really, with three acts containing repetitions as well as alternate outcomes. All the action is engendered by one man’s perspective. It’s less complex than it sounds (thanks to Kent’s disciplined approach). The idea of a kaleidoscope (cribbed from the programme) is worth bearing in mind, but it’s still often wilfully baffling.

Gina Mckee in The Forest credit The Other Richard
Gina McKee

There’s a lot of suffering in the play. A strong performance from Gina McKee as The Wife shows suspicion and concern. Angel Coulby is great as The Girlfriend, a deliberately opaque role. That this woman is perceived as unstable and dangerous comes to the fore. Both characters are shown as they relate to the lead protagonist, and increasingly so, which gives the text dynamism as well as making it uncomfortable.

If we struggle to find an emotional response to the play, this could well be Zeller’s intention. Toby Stephens leads the action alongside Paul McGann as The Man, a character so important that he needs two performers. Interpretations are welcome; but it seems we are watching a mental breakdown, fantasies and all – his mistress kills herself (or was she murdered?).

“Abandoned in a forest”

Coulby’s character is described as “difficult to manage”. And that isn’t going to endear this Man to anyone. The status of this wealthy, much-respected figure is emphasised. Is our sympathy for him a challenge? Stephens manages to convey grief and tension, and it’s hard not to feel for someone so lost.  Especially when the imagined therapist/interrogator he talks to is a spooky Man in Black, exquisitely depicted by Finbar Lynch.

Zeller’s audience might feel a little lost at times, too. Instruction for the distinct zones of Anna Fleischle’s design is that “interpenetration” occurs. Thankfully, this is subtly handled by Kent. Hugh Vanstone’s lighting is excellent. The play is a puzzle, stylishly set (quite literally… there’s some lovely furniture here). As delusions escalate (let’s just say we end up with a dead deer on stage), you can’t help feeling it all seems a great deal of effort for a simple moral message.

Until 12 March 2022

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photos by The Other Richard

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“Peggy For You” at the Hampstead Theatre

Alan Plater’s 1999 play tackles two subjects. As a day in the life of theatrical legend Margaret Ramsay, it’s about a formidable and fascinating woman. And Peggy For You is also a play about plays. This strong revival, carefully directed by Richard Wilson, gives both topics their due: both are interesting but I’ll admit to preferring one far more than the other.

Both Plater and Peggy have plenty to say about plays. And Art with a capital A. Tricks and techniques of the trade are plentiful, some of them are funny (even for those of us who don’t work in the theatre). But the insights are heavy handed. It’s hard not to make this subject feel rarified. Meta-theatrical moments are clumsy.

Plater shows us three ages of the playwright. There’s the newcomer, the man of the moment and a former most-promising but now out of fashion. Trouble is, it feels all these descriptions should have a capital letter. The characters are well played by Josh Finan, Jos Vantyler and Trevor Fox. But each role is slim. Only Fox’s old-timer has much to say or do.

Plater suggests there is a high price to pay for plays yet doesn’t explore this idea enough. Another author kills himself. But this offstage character isn’t vivid enough to have much impact. What interests is Peggy’s cold reaction to the death. Indeed, all the way through the play, it’s Peggy who interests most.

A great source of anecdotes and one-liners, Plater gives a wonderful depiction of his own agent. Explicit that the play is “a pack of lies”, the strategy aims at creating a portrait close to the truth. His Peggy is complex and entertaining, the depiction cleverly affectionate while acknowledging her many faults.

Taking this starring role, Tamsin Greig’s performance is phenomenal. It would be all too easy to exaggerate this larger than life woman. Greig, while always funny, shows incredible control. Volatile emotions and a sharp intellect are clear, imperiousness is balanced with vulnerability. Ramsay was a woman to watch and Greig mirrors this – the performance makes for compulsive viewing. A bully the wrong side of loveable eccentricity, a passion for danger gives the character edge. Does Peggy’s commitment to the theatre excuse it all? No, but Peggy will choose a pub theatre over the National, and who doesn’t admire that?

Until 29 January 2022

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photo by Helen Maybanks

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“”night Mother” at the Hampstead Theatre

This revival of Marsha Norman’s Pulitzer Prize winning play offers the chance to see brilliant performances from Stockard Channing and Rebecca Night. But be warned – the play deals with the subject of suicide in a provocative and strange fashion.

Night takes the role of Jessie who decides to tell her mother, played by Stockard, that the evening the play recounts will be her last: she calmly reveals that she is going to kill herself. She’s planned it all, including telling her Mama all about it.

Questions arise quickly. Does Jessie have the right to take her own life as she argues? Do her reasons make sense? And what of this sharing. Can that be rational or even, in some way, kind?

It is the powerfully calm tone of the play that proves striking. Credit to Channing and Night for their consistency. With touches of dark humour, the frank discussions, flipping from mundane domestic details to family secrets, avoid histrionics.

‘night Mother gains much of its power from a cool look at life in a small community. But does Jessie have too many troubles? Epileptic, divorced with a troubled child and agoraphobic – her problems cloud the play’s cerebral intentions. Jessie’s anhedonia is heartbreaking but make her arguments unreliable.

You may have sympathy for Jessie and her desperate wish for control. But the pain she inflicts on her mother is unquestionable. Channing excels in showing her character is far from the “plain country girl” she claims, revealing a repressed intelligence and wit. Trying all manner of persuasion, cajoling then cruel, Channing is awesome to watch.

There is a bravery to Norman’s writing and Roxanna Silbert’s impeccable direction that is commendable. And an originality that impresses – trying to be objective about such an emotive topic is beyond me. Far from easy viewing, ‘night Mother is hard to recommend but is an evening sure to live in the memory.

Until 4 December 2021

www.hampsteadtheatre.co.uk

Photo by Marc Brenner

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“The Memory of Water” at the Hampstead Theatre

As part of the “Hampstead Originals” season, celebrating significant pieces that started off at the venue, this new production reminds us why Shelagh Stephenson’s 1996 play is popular. A satisfying comedy drama and a gift to performers, The Memory of Water has plenty to please.

Within the scenario of three sisters together before their mother’s funeral, Stephenson injects a surprising amount of comedy with a superb ear for dialogue and strong characters. Take your pick from doctor Mary, health food entrepreneur Teresa or the troubled, younger, Catherine. Each has an appeal. And there are three top notch performances to enjoy – from Laura Rogers, Lucy Black and Carolina Main – each a careful detailed study.

The Memory of Water at the Hampstead Theatre
Lucy Black, Carolina Main and Laura Rogers

There are good jokes, inappropriate reactions and a down to earth humour that is great fun. Stephenson examines sibling relations with confidence and risqué insight. Meanwhile the theme of memory proves stimulating (if not particularly subtle when it comes to Mary’s research into amnesia) as the sisters’ recollections of their past, and their mother, diverge.

After the interval, The Memory of Water gets bolder and darker. Painful truths and shocking secrets are revealed. The grief within the play becomes multi-layered. And we start to take Catherine’s health problems more seriously. Harsh words are spoken and the action is frequently gripping.

It is with quieter moments that director Alice Hamilton’s command of the play is clearest. While the comedy is strong (with Catherine’s tantrums, Teresa’s neurosis and Mary’s deadpan lines) it’s the pacing of more dramatic scenes that really impresses. Ever alert to the space the text needs, and aided by Johanna Town’s lighting design, Hamilton guides the audience magnificently. Given Sam Yates’ success with the venue’s previous show, Hampstead Theatre is clearly a home for directing talent.

The Memory of Water at the Hampstead Theatre
Kulvinder Ghir and Adam James

While there’s no doubt that The Memory of Water is a play focused on women, and their relationships with one another, Stephenson deals just as well with the men we meet. Indeed, even the girls’ father, long dead, is a vivid presence. Again, there are great roles for Teresa’s husband and Mary’s married lover that Kulvinder Ghir and Adam James do well with.

A final strength with The Memory of Water comes from the ghostly role of the girls’ mother, Vi. Played by Lizzy McInnerny, with a particularly fine study of her character’s accent, her interactions with Rogers were my favourite scenes. Vi is far more than a foil for her daughter: gifted her own voice, showing us a previous generation, and adding a twist to what we have seen. Vi is funny and hurt while her maternal legacy and suffering from Alzheimer’s takes us to the heart of the play’s theme. Stephenson’s description of the cruel disease, that Vi feels “broken into islands”, is brilliant and moving. As Vi’s influence on her daughters becomes clearer, McInnerny becomes magisterial. Despite Mary’s request, Vi is “never” really going to leave her daughter; like the play, she is a woman to remember.

Until 16 October 2021

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Photos by Helen Murray