Tag Archives: Nathan Lane

“The Frogs” at the Southwark Playhouse

Fans of Stephen Sondheim – and I’m one – are lucky right now. His last work, Here We Are, is playing at the National Theatre while this show has been revived in spirited style by director Georgie Rankcom. There’s fun to be had with comparisons or, to be frank, shared problems. But this is another part of the canon it is wonderful to get the chance to see. And fan or not, The Frogs is smart, fun and well-executed.

Like all Sondheim’s work, The Frogs is inspired by… a lot. There’s the play by Aristophanes, adapted “freely” by Burt Shevelove, then “even more freely” by Nathan Lane, and at each stage given Sondheim’s spin. And it’s a show with a long, somewhat convoluted genesis. Rather brilliantly, as it involves a journey on the River Styx, it starts in a swimming pool!

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Dan Buckley and Kevin McHale

A lot depends on the leads Dionysos and his slave Xanthias, who journey to Hades to save the world through art. The plan, to bring George Bernard Shaw back to Earth, is suitably kooky. Dan Buckley and Kevin McHale, who take the parts, are up to the job, sounding great and making an excellent comedy duo. The metatheatricality and the message in the show are generally overdone, but with these two the touch is, thankfully, light.

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Martha Pothen as George Bernard Shaw

Their adventures are accompanied by a talented ensemble who also double as extra characters. Joaquin Pedro Valdes stands out as Herakles and Martha Pothen as Shaw. The structure is simple enough, but the pace slows too often. Thankfully, the music is a delight. From the jolly refrain ‘I Love To Travel’, to a melancholic number, ‘It’s Only A Play’, the songs are Sondheim quality, and you can’t give higher praise than that.

Still, given Sondheim’s back catalogue, there’s some disappointment. The Frogs feels heavy-handed. Even the lyrics, although always smart, are a little blunt. And a final contest (apparently agon is the term) between Shaw and Shakespeare is far too lengthy. The point is interesting enough: do we need Shavian “great abstractions” or the bard’s poetry? Pothen and Bart Lambert (as Will) do well. But the outcome is predictable (who really wants an “orgy of Georgie”?) and preachy.

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Victoria Scone stars as Pluto

There is a strong sense of musical revue about the show (it started out at Yale) that suits the venue and that Rankcom cleverly leans into. Dance numbers, difficult in such a small space, showcase choreographer Matt Nicholson’s talents and add energy – the “web-footed debauchery” of the titular amphibians is a hoot. And having a special guest as Pluto is a great idea (until 31 May it’s Victoria Scone and very good she is, too).

The variety of the score and the broad humour are all embraced, with lots of good gags based around Greek myths (apparently Viagra is the god of perseverance). It’s on a wider level, with Sondheim reviewing the state of the world, that problems arise. A touch of the classroom carries the potential to defeat the argument and instruction that we should all get angry and act. Maybe it’s more generous to say that the show’s sense of urgency overwhelms it? At least there is fun as well as conviction here.

Until 28 June 2025

www.southwarkplayhouse.co.uk

Photos by Pamela Raith

“Angels in America” at the National Theatre

Any production of Tony Kushner’s masterpiece is a cause for celebration. Presented in two parts, totalling nearly seven hours, and combining the AIDS crisis with speculation on America’s history and its future, epic is an apt word. Add the stellar cast and it’s hard to be inured to the hype surrounding this revival on the Southbank. The difficulty of getting tickets, plus ecstatic reviews and a sense of responsibility towards the play, whose premiere at the National Theatre in 1992 is fondly remembered, create palpable anticipation. And the production is superb – a theatrical event – even if it struggles under the weight of expectation.

James McArdle (Louis) and Andrew Garfield (Prior)
James McArdle (Louis) and Andrew Garfield (Prior)

For unmitigated praise we can begin with the cast. Andrew Garfield plays Prior Walter, who reveals his HIV status at the start of the play to his boyfriend, Louis (James McArdle), who promptly deserts him. Both grippingly portray their relationship breakdown – McArdle does a great job creating sympathy for his unlikeable character. As Prior’s health deteriorates, Garfield takes the lead with a combination of dignity and no-nonsense that perfectly reflects the text. When it comes to Prior’s encounter with angels – and in this play they are real – the juggling of fear, amazement and humour is superb.

Denise Gough (Harper) and Russell Tovey (Joseph)
Denise Gough (Harper) and Russell Tovey (Joseph)

Another couple in trouble are the Pitts, two Mormons living in a sham marriage. Russell Tovey plays Joseph, tortured by his sexuality, with sensitivity. An affair with Louis comes as a revelation to him and fills the theatre with tenderness, while the betrayal of his wife, Harper, is moving and complex. It’s another triumph for Denise Gough, as the pill-popping spouse whose religious background and secretive husband are driving her insane. There’s that Kushner combination again – of humour and self-awareness – that Gough reveals expertly. Someone should save us all time and hand her another Olivier award now.

Nathan Lane (Roy Cohn) and Nathan Stewart-Jarrett (Belize)
Nathan Lane (Roy Cohn) and Nathan Stewart-Jarrett (Belize)

A final duo deserves a mention: Broadway legend Nathan Lane, who brings a startling humour to the role of closeted lawyer Roy Cohn, and Nathan Stewart-Jarrett as his nurse Belize. Their sparring matches, as Cohn lies dying of AIDS, are a highlight. Stewart-Jarrett impresses throughout, excelling as a foil to Prior and Louis, and deftly carrying the weight of Kushner’s concerns over racism.

Angels in America is hard work, especially if you are lucky enough to see both plays on the same day. It isn’t trying to be easy, of course: the emotional journey taken by its many characters is harrowing, but the scale and scope of ideas needs controlling and the fear is that director Marianne Elliot has herself become overawed. There’s not enough “mangled guts” here – the play’s visceral text, so full of struggle, is sanitised as a ‘classic’.

Connections between the characters, clear enough in the script, become laboured. There are few light touches, literally so when it comes to Paule Constable’s lighting design, which dominates Part One in particular. A claustrophobic feel, pinpointing scenes in spotlight, is presumably to create focus, but the result is soporific.

It’s not the play’s length that is the problem – the plotting is impeccable – but the pacing, which flags. The main culprit is a cumbersome set by Ian McNeil, with props moved around by a collection of ‘Angel Shadows’ who become distracting. This choreographed troupe does stronger work as skilled puppeteers with the arrival of The Angel (the always superb Amanda Lawrence). But even here their scenes feel protracted. Elliot’s reverential air brings us down to earth, even if most of her production is heavenly.

Until 19 August 2017

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Helen Maybanks