Tag Archives: Martha Plimpton

“Here We Are” at the National Theatre

It’s hard to imagine that there was a time when Stephen Sondheim’s work wasn’t revered. Not all his shows were hits the first time around and many divided opinion and generated parody. This last effort from the legend, who died in 2021, presented on the South Bank via New York’s The Shed, is such a mixed affair that it’s unlikely anyone will claim it as a Sondheim highlight. 

Sondheim used more sources to make musicals than most and this time, with David Ives’ book, he looks at Surrealist cineaste Luis Buñuel. We get not one but two films brought to the stage. It must be stressed that, unlike many a movie adaptation, Sondheim and Ives put their own stamp on the works. These are interpretations, updated and with the stage in mind. For once, the word ‘inspiration’ is apt.

Yet, while there are more than enough crazy moments, there isn’t the political power that’s found in Buñuel. Maybe this is down to the times? Our view of class has changed so much. Or is it Surrealism itself that’s the problem? You might suggest Surrealists tend to take self-referentiality seriously (there’s a topic for discussion). But musicals are whacky from the get-go.

Tracie-Bennett-in-Here-We-Are-at-the-National-Theatre-credit-Marc-Brenner
Tracie Bennett

It helps an awful lot to know what’s being referenced before going in. Of course, Sondheim fans are a clever bunch and their knowledge of European cinema extensive. But just in case you need reminding, the first act is based on 1972’s Le charme discret de la bourgeoisie, with a wealthy group trying to find a place to eat. Here the idea is a solid satire that’s laugh-out-loud funny, with great skits from various waiters (including Tracie Bennett, who is excellent). But updating the characters isn’t a happy affair. Instead of France, we are in LA. And, more than the bourgeoise, we have Ultra High Net Worth individuals who don’t quite convince, despite Rory Kinnear’s commendable efforts. A younger character, admirably performed by Chumisa Dornford-May, is written as some kind of revolutionary but is notably more soixante-huit than contemporary.

The second act disappoints further, not least because there is so little music in it. It’s a version of El ángel exterminador (the one with the characters mysteriously trapped in a room). Why they can’t leave and then eventually do is never explained but you’re going to have to live with that. The wit and intelligence are still clear (a dialogue about ontology and shoes is funny), but the references become oppressive. 

Jesse-Tyler-Ferguson-and-Martha-Plimpton-in-Here-We-Are-at-the-National-Theatre-credit-Marc-Brenner
Jesse Tyler Ferguson and Martha Plimpton

The potential legacy of the piece also weighs heavy. Yes, this material would be difficult for any cast. But director Joe Mantello fails to keep up a pace or embrace crazier moments so that (ape costumes aside) there are few surprises. While Richard Fleeshman and Paulo Szot manage to shine in simpler roles (as an unnamed soldier and a diplomat), the other characters are surely supposed to be more three-dimensional? Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Jane Krakowski and Martha Plimpton (all big talents) seem trapped in how we imagine performers in a Sondheim show should act. Metatheatricality or just a mistake? It proves tiresome and shortchanges the show. 

Until 28 June 2025

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by MARC BRENNER

“Sweat” at the Gielgud Theatre

After rave reviews and a sell-out run at the Donmar Warehouse, the transfer of Lynn Nottage’s play is especially welcome. A political play about blue-collar America and trade unionism isn’t your average West End fare. Brilliant performances and excellent direction count for many stars awarded by the critics. But, above all, it’s the marvellous work from an exceptional writer that makes this one of the best plays I’ve seen in an age. Oh, and it won a Pulitzer Prize.

At the heart of Sweat’s success are a series of characters that we come to know so intimately. As a trio of work friends whose jobs in a steel factory and threatened and then lost, Jessie, Cynthia and Tracey make for wonderful studies that Leanne Best, Clare Perkins and Martha Plimpton all excel in. Their history established with speed, when Cynthia moves from shop floor to office door we get a moving moral dilemma brimming with conflict.

The action takes place in the women’s local bar, and the manager’s bar-room philosophy and news commentary, skilfully delivered by Stuart McQuarrie, add to the sense of a whole community, maybe the whole US. The complex picture is created with such a natural touch it seems effortless on Nottage’s part – and appreciated by director Lynette Linton – but what technique!

Let’s not be naïve. Focus on the women in the factory and ethnic minorities working in the bar could feel tokenistic. Here, it’s what it is – real life. And the characters are all the more remarkable when we come to consider how functional each role is. Each represents a response to or facet of economic meltdown. NAFTA, the rise of nationalism and anti-immigration rhetoric, even self-medication and the opioid epidemic are all issues raised. And, handled with such humanity, Nottage makes them personal.

If Sweat still sounds dry, exceptional plotting makes the delivery anything but. There’s a thrilling mystery here surrounding two of the women’s sons, Jason and Chris, and a crime that occurs. Beginning with their release from prison we’re left guessing what happened, even who the victim was. With yet more tremendous performances, from Patrick Gibson and Osy Ikhile, we see a once close friendship and the disturbed characters both men have become. During the second act, Linton ratchets up the tension: who does what to whom is unexpected, the cruelty of events ripping a community further apart.

When racism rears its head, it is especially poignant as we see a friendship destroyed. Yet understanding how violence has escalated shows the play has important insights. As well as examining the systemic in society, Nottage takes into account an element of chance. Think of the characters, to various degrees, as unlucky and it’s sure to change any moral judgements you might make. Sweat ends as a challenging piece, preventing us from condemning any of its protagonists too quickly. It creates an uneasy sense of ‘there but for the grace of God’ time after time in a way only the very best theatre can.

Until 20 July 2019

www.sweattheplay.com

“Other Desert Cities” at the Old Vic

Other Desert Cities by Jon Robin Baitz opens a new season at the Old Vic that sees the venue transformed into a theatre in the round. Love it though we must, the Old Vic is a barn of a place and the new intimacy created by the set up is much welcomed. The play is a strong piece that could surely hold its own in any venue, but this skillfully written family drama, full of political ambitions, benefits greatly from the reconfiguration.

Depressed New Yorker Brooke visits home in Palm Springs for the Christmas vacation. Gifting her right-wing parents Polly and Lyman with a tell-all memoir puts an end to any holiday spirit. Along with more than their fair share of family tragedy, domestic conflict comes from politics; the older Reaganesque Republicans (Sinéad Cusack and Peter Egan are utterly convincing) opposed by “hopelessly high brow” Brooke, performed superbly by Martha Plimpton. Adding to the agenda are alcoholic hippy Aunt Silda (Clare Higgins) and younger brother Trip (Daniel Lapaine) who provide some insight from the millennial generation.

Pulitzer-nominated Baitz has been a success on Broadway and is well known for his TV career (Brothers & Sisters, The West Wing). He joins hit American writers doing so well in the West End at the moment and seems very keen to have written a big American play. There are plenty of influences, Albee the most obvious, so it isn’t startlingly original.  Topicality and politics are the important things and, although it seems slightly heavy handed, at one point even melodramatic, the play’s ambition is impressive.

The characterisation is very good. And the cast lives up to the strong writing. In a moving performance, Egan helps reveal a deeper character than we suspected. Likewise, Lapaine makes his smaller part stand out, while Higgins comes close to stealing the show. Great subtlety is invested in the central female characters Polly and Brooke; the writing seesaws our sympathy between the cold yet loyal, domineering mother and the selfish suffering of her brilliant child. It’s clever and complex stuff.

Until 24 May 2014

www.oldvictheatre.com

Photo by Johan Persson

Written 26 March 2014 for The London Magazine