Tag Archives: Nancy Crane

“Glengarry Glen Ross” at the Old Vic Theatre

This revival of David Mamet’s play will probably be remembered for its all-female casting. It’s a first – prominently advertised – and the twist is oddly appropriate to writing so obsessively focused on masculinity. The story of real estate salesmen, ruthless and desperate in equal measure, is made stranger, uncanny even, by director Patrick Marber and his performers. Yet, unlike the very best revivals, this production adds surprisingly little to an appreciation of the piece.

To be clear, the cast is excellent. There’s Dorothea Myer-Bennett as office manager John, revelling in the bureaucratic power over the leads that help sales. Frustrated Dave and insecure George, played by Niky Wardley and Nancy Crane, are both in danger of losing their jobs because they cannot close sales. And Shelly ‘The Machine’ Levine, one of Mamet’s most powerful creations, inspires one of Indira Varma’s finest performances. Shelley is paired with former protégé Roma, played by Rosa Salazar, whose strong portrayal helps establish a bond with Levine that is one of the few humane relationships in the show.

The cast revel in roles they surely never imagined they would get the chance to play. They embrace the absence of anything appealing about the characters – that is Mamet’s point. Marber doesn’t shy away from the ugliness of the business, and Salazar is particularly strong at showing it (the deal with a gullible client, played by Mercedes Bahleda with great reserve, is particularly uncomfortable). Yes, you can recognise the salespeople; Varma even allows you to feel sorry for Levine, and Crane creates sympathy, too. But with so much greed on display, no matter how accurate Mamet’s analysis, Glengarry Glen Ross is not an easy watch.

Being uncomfortable is part of the intention, of course. These salesfolk aren’t super successful and you can pity them. They are exploited, too, by the offstage owners Mitch and Murray, who Mamet makes so vivid. If the argument is laboured, it doesn’t feel dated. The play’s observations on capitalism and morality, made by many, are as valid as ever. But for all the skill, the production has a problem. The casting won’t convert anyone to the play. Of course, it doesn’t have to, as the show stands strong. But this is an unpleasant piece you’ll either love or hate – nothing has changed on that front.

Until 18 July 2026

www.oldvictheatre.com

Photo by Manuel Harlan

“A Lie of the Mind” at the Southwark Playhouse

Sam Shepard’s award-winning 1985 play is a slow-burning, haunting family drama. After a brutal act of domestic violence, Beth is left brain damaged and her husband Jake unhinged. Their families, aiming to care for them, become increasingly irrational, unlocking the play’s momentum and considerable dramatic power.

Gethin Anthony and Alexandra Dowling acquit themselves well as Jake and Beth. These are difficult roles and the temptation for shrillness isn’t fully controlled. Shepard is averse to sentimentality and makes it a struggle to empathise with these damaged figures. Nonetheless, Anthony and Dowling convey their characters as repositories of cumulative pain.

Gethin Anthony, Mike Lonsdale and Alexandra Dowling
Gethin Anthony, Robert Lonsdale and Alexandra Dowling

The couple’s siblings have problems too. Initially overshadowed by Jake’s instability, his brother and sister, played by Michael Fox and Laura Rogers, do well to build their roles, acting as foils for the increasing oddity around them. Meanwhile, Robert Lonsdale gives a cracking performance as Beth’s consoling and then avenging brother. Caught up in a maelstrom of metaphor, Lonsdale gives the role clarity.

Best of all are the older characters, portrayed with conviction and welcome humour by a skilled trio so that the play’s dated gender relations create fewer snags here. Shepard is too sophisticated to blame the parents for the sins or woes of the children, but a legacy of emotional repression is clear. Nancy Crane and Kate Fahy play the mothers – far too keen to have their kids back at home and infantilised. John Stahl gives a strong performance as Beth’s irascible father, whose tirade against ageing is one of the play’s finest moments.

Marshalling all this – and it’s a lot – is James Hillier’s direction. Some of Shepard’s dark humour isn’t transmitted and a firmer hand on histrionics with a little more work on accents would be welcome. But Hillier has created a stylish show, aided by live music from James Marples. The production appreciates Shepard’s extremes, giving his Americana a back seat to examine the topical subject of mental health. It’s a solid revival of a fascinating play.

Until 27 May 2017

www.southwarkplayhouse.co.uk

Photos by Lidia Crisafulli