Tag Archives: Lizzie Clachan

“Carmen Disruption” at the Almeida Theatre

When you enter the Almeida Theatre for Simon Stephens’ latest play, Carmen Disruption, it’s via the stage. It seems part of a campaign by the Islington venue to shake up its audience and perfectly embodies this innovative and imaginative play’s spirit. If you’ve bought a ticket, congratulate yourself and take a bow… but be careful not to walk into an animatronic bull on your way in.

It doesn’t get any less weird. The play follows the nervous breakdown of a singer, who performs the role of Bizet’s Carmen all over the world, interweaving monologues from others, cast as archetypes from that opera, accompanied by a real singer as a chorus. Carmen Disruption clearly has enough arty touches to make plenty of eyes roll. But it works. Stephens’ magical touch creates a world of pure theatre – visionary and inspiring.

Stephens’ work can’t be easy for the actors but the performances are uniformly good. Viktoria Vizin, who has sung Carmen in 17 productions, has a voice that blows you away. Sharon Small, as The Singer, is superbly believable; I bet she’s been chatting to Vizin a lot about the pressured nomadic lifestyle of an opera star. Playing Stephens’ version of the title character, recast as a narcissistic rent boy, Jack Farthing is especially strong.

Michael Longhurst directs the production marvellously, with a control that gives Stephens’ text perfect space to breath. Lizzie Clachan’s design, along with stunning lighting by Jack Knowles, matches the poetry of the piece. Vitally, the whole team seems convinced by the power of the play.

Stephens’ motif is loneliness. His characters are isolated, desperate and frustrated, using whatever they can, mostly sex, to connect with others. Yet, despite some extreme behaviour and extravagant lifestyles, we can always connect with them. And no matter how strange the play feels, it is rooted. Much is sure to be made of the technology in the play – phones are plentiful and often commented upon – which gives Carmen Disruption its contemporary commentary, but the play’s power comes from universal themes.

Until 23 May 2015

www.almeida.co.uk

Photo by March Brenner

“All My Sons” at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre’s 2014 season got off to a cracking start last night with a new production of All My Sons. The Arthur Miller classic, about a war profiteer and his family, is given a terrific treatment by the theatre’s artistic director Timothy Sheader. The play’s moral concerns and complexity receive due deference while a tremendous amount of suspense is added in.

Sheader has some fine performers to work with. Tom Mannion and Bríd Brennan play the Kellers with care and skill; he seems all conviviality, the working man made good, while her fixed grin belies an iron will corroded by the secrets they share. Rich from supplying faulty goods to the US Air Force, the next generation must share the legacy of their mistakes.

Back from fighting in World War II, the Keller’s son Chris is caught between a family mourning his lost brother and his own noble ambitions to live a better life. Chris’ love for his brother’s sweetheart, Ann, literally the girl next door, forces him to confront the role her father took as a patsy for the Kellers’ crime. Amy Nuttall plays Ann with skilful restraint, building momentum as the play’s shocking revelations unfold.

Charles Aitken excels as Keller Jnr, the war-traumatised conscience of the piece, with a perfect smile that reflects his character’s optimism and the charm to convince us that he is as good as he seems. In a play seething about the hypocrisy behind the poster-perfect American suburbs (aided here by Maddie Rice’s superb performance as a neighbour), Chris has to be the believable beacon of integrity, and Aitken delivers a great performance.

Not surprisingly, Sheader knows how to use the space at his own theatre. Tying the play’s timing to the setting of the sun is hugely effective, while Lizzie Clachan’s set is thought provoking and Nick Powell’s music superb. The play speeds by at a cracking pace and the carefully controlled tension is tremendous. A stunning final scene makes this a truly haunting evening and shows a director in charge of a quality production.

Until 7 June 2014

www.openairtheatre.com

Photo by Tommy Ga Ken Wan

Written 21 May 2014 for The London Magazine

“A Woman Killed With Kindness” at the National Theatre

Thomas Heywood’s 1603 domestic drama, A Woman Killed With Kindness, has a fair claim to still being relevant; family fortunes and adultery are great topics for drama. Nowadays, not many would contemplate the solutions for debt or infidelity Heywood’s characters come up with but Katie Mitchell’s bold production at the National Theatre makes it a fascinating night.

This is a story of the gentry; Heywood’s subjects hadn’t been seen on stage before, they are neither the great and the good nor the lowest in society. But confusingly, designers Lizzie Clachan and Vicki Mortimer present two well-off households next door to one another – giving the impression this is a troubled terrace, a kind of grand Coronation Street, when these are really two country estates.

The staging means that Mitchell can draw parallels between the women in the two stories; characters echo each other’s actions, creating an intense stereoscopic experience that is surreal and unnerving. It is continually arresting but never fully believable.

Mitchell moves the action to 1919. The stiff upper lips adopted by the nobility fit oddly with the passion so obvious in Heywood’s text. Homespun honesty is provided by an ensemble of solicitous servants (Gawn Grainger’s laconic Nicholas stands out) but their relationships are surely more feudal than the upstairs-downstairs setting suggests.

Heywood’s naturalism is acknowledged with lots of action off-stage, yet for all Mitchell’s previous ‘collaborative’ work with actors, the cast struggle against a touch of Grand Guignol. There are great performances from leading ladies Liz White and Sandy McDade, who use the extra time on stage created for them by the design well, but even they sometimes appear like puppets directed from above.

Mitchell is a director with such a strong vision she seems in competition with the author. And yet maybe that’s what the play needs: A Woman Killed With Kindness can be objectionable and Heywood’s morality perverse. It’s thrilling to hear the heroine grab the last line – it really seems to belong to her, although Heywood’s text has her husband say it. Mitchell’s version is more chilling and complex, and at times almost manages to convince.

Until 12 September 2011

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Stephen Cummiskey

Written 20 July 2011 for The London Magazine