Tag Archives: National Theatre

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“Barber Shop Chronicles” from NTLive

With a trio of companies behind it – and, don’t forget, links for donations – the National Theatre, Fuel and Leeds Playhouse gave us something for the weekend with Inua Ellams’ play. This recording, from the London run in 2018, reminds us why this piece – which covers vast ground geographically and brings up plenty for debate – was so warmly received.

Scenes in barber shops in London, Lagos, Accra, Kampala, Johannesburg and Harare add up to a lot. And we encounter plenty of colourful characters (Patrice Naiambana’s Paul was my favourite although Hammed Animashuan’s performance was brilliantly scene stealing). Alongside a powerful drama between Emmanuel and Samuel, which make good roles for Fisayo Akinade and Cyril Nri, there are all manners of observation on language, politics, race and culture. It’s all interesting, although maybe not always subtle, but it could easily be overwhelming.

Hammed Animashau in Barber Shop Chronicles at the National Theatre (c) Marc Brenner
Hammed Animashau

Ultimately, these chronicles are a collection of small studies and intimate scenes. Director Bijan Sheibani skilfully combines the big picture with close details, and the result belies any shortcomings. Ellams’ touch is light, while segues between scenes, with singing and dancing, are excellent. What could be confusing proves energetic. And the play is funny: jokes are used pointedly and there’s plenty of wit to enjoy.

While the barber shops, as a “place for talking”, serve as an effective device for holding the play together, what really does this job is the theme of fatherhood. The stories take in violence and various ideas of legacy and inheritance, offering plenty of insight. And it’s interesting to note how much bigger than biology the theme of parenthood becomes. Connections between the characters are handled carefully (until the end, in a clumsy moment that really disappoints). Ellams’ play, with Sheibani’s help, ends up more than the sum of its parts. And, given that it has more parts than a barber shop quartet, that’s really saying something.

Available until Wednesday 20 May 2020

To support visit nationaltheatre.org.uk, fueltheatre.com, leedsplayhouse.org.uk

Photos by Marc Brenner

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“Frankenstein” from NTLive

Bringing out a blockbuster as its weekly offering to entertain and raise funds during lockdown, the National Theatre’s production of Mary Shelley’s story was a must-have ticket back in 2011. If you love the theatre, you love others getting exciting about it. So, it’s nice to relive some of the buzz about director Danny Boyle and his star casting of Benedict Cumberbatch. At the moment, it’s as exciting as things get… but to be honest, the show itself isn’t very good.

The production is impressive. Not least Bruno Poet’s lighting design, which Boyle uses so spectacularly. The massive rig of bulbs, which seems to take up the auditorium’s whole ceiling, is breath-taking. Boyle’s direction is swift and efficient (although based on the assumption that we all know the story), and the whole thing looks fantastic. Boyle isn’t scared of minimalism, revelling in the size of the stage, coming into the crowd and showing off the Olivier’s mechanics with pride.

During the show’s run, the title role and that of The Creature were played in rotation with Jonny Lee Miller. For the recording, Cumberbatch is the latter and gives a performance to win respect. It’s a success yet a laboured affair. The long opening “birth” scene, with The Creature as a giant toddler, is studied, well thought out, impeccably prepared and, yes, affecting – as he literally finds his feet – but it reeks of the rehearsal room.

It’s when The Creature acquires language that real problems arise. Sad to say, you wish nobody on stage, let alone the rather pompous monster, spoke. The script from Nick Dear is leaden and (sorry) without a spark of life. Shelley’s philosophical concerns are ticked off rapidly. A bit like The Creature, you end up feeling “ideas batter me like hailstones”. The characters can’t help but suffer. Lee Miller makes Frankenstein’s arrogance believable, but the character does little apart from shout. And, while there’s strong work from Naomie Harris, as his fiancée Elizabeth, her appearances feel forced.

Boyle keeps up the pace, so much so that The Creature’s thirst for revenge arrives too suddenly. Also rushed is a thematic battle between rationality and love – which could have proved interesting. Cumberbatch manages to be frightening, Miller compelling and Harris holds her own, despite the scene of her wedding night hampered by some clumsy filming that I assume had an age guideline in mind. But the show feels like Frankenstein’s motivation for his experiment – “a puzzle to be solved”. It’s impressively tackled yet, like the man himself, lacks depth and feeling.

Available until Wednesday 7 May 2020

To support visit nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Catherine Ashmore

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“Twelfth Night” from NTLive

As another example of its diversity, this week’s offering from the National Theatre is Shakespeare. The interesting idea driving Simon Godwin’s production, which dates from 2017, could also be said to be diversity – challenging this most famous of gender-swapping comedies by openly acknowledging LGBTQ identities and gay marriage. The results of such a contemporary spin are mixed, but a strong cast makes the show solid.

To illustrate Godwin’s conceit, take Oliver Chris’s excellent Duke, who falls for Viola when he thinks she is a he. You expect jokes from the confusion, often pretty childish ones, but such laughs are held back. It’s a credit to Chris’s comic skills that the role is still funny. Likewise, Antonio’s feelings for Viola’s twin, Sebastian, are openly romantic… I remember that at school this was only coyly suggested.

A more eye-catching example of Godwin’s transformations comes with his star casting of Tamsin Greig and the turning of Malvolio into Malvolia. The female steward’s open adoration for her mistress Olivia (a role Phoebe Fox does very well with) doesn’t bat any eyelids. Nor is it a source of schoolboy fun. Of course, it shouldn’t be either. The joke for Shakespeare was one of status anyway, but note – this is a gag that Godwin ignores.

As with Chris, it’s down to Greig to still be funny and that she is – very. She gives a brilliant performance it is hard to praise enough, getting laughs with every line, working the audience to perfection. A nod to Mrs Danvers from Rebecca is genius. And there’s more. Grieg and Godwin don’t let us forget the religion in the play. Also, they tackle the character becoming “common recreation” exceptionally well. Let’s face it, the practical joke played on Malvolio/a ain’t funny. Greig makes sure the character retains some dignity and there’s a hard edge to her promise of revenge that is welcome.

Greig makes this Twelfth Night worth watching and it is clearly a work with intelligence behind it. Unfortunately, lots of ideas seem motivated by trying to make the show modern – and none of these are things we haven’t seen before. There’s a car on stage, a hospital monitor, a nightclub and a hot tub, while the Duke has a personal trainer and a birthday party. To all of this you can say, why not? But you can also say, why? Along with an ugly set from Soutra Gilmour, which highlights that both she and Godwin have used the auditorium poorly, and some inane music from Dan Jackson, the production does not equal its cast.

Twelfth Night at the National Theatre credit Marc Brenner
Tim Mcmullan, Doon Mackichan and Daniel Rigby

What of the play’s supposed heroes, the shipwreck-separated siblings, Viola and Sebastian? Amongst a good number of comics – Tim McMullan, Daniel Rigby and Doon Mackichan all need to be added here – the twins are, ahem, reduced to straight men. Both characters are only acted upon, robbed of agency, which you could argue is fair enough. But it’s only strong performances from Tamara Lawrance and Daniel Ezra that stop the characters from being boring and introduce any emotion into this interesting but inert production.

Available until Wednesday 29 April 2020

To support visit nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Marc Brenner

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“Treasure Island” from NTLive

This third offering – and third call to support theatres during their current closure – from the National Theatre is an adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson’s adventure story. It makes sense to show the venue’s admirable variety by providing a show for the whole family, and this effort from director Polly Findlay is entertaining and enjoyable.

The script from Bryony Lavery excels with plot and deals expertly with some convoluted language that she spices up. Snatches of humour work well and “keeping nothing back” means some delightfully gory details! From injuries, and a massive syringe, to nightmarish touches, superstition and the supernatural are effectively included.

Lavery and Findlay aren’t afraid to ham things up – there’s a lot of shouting and plenty of fight scenes. We’re dealing with a “hot headed and exclamatory” crowd, after all, and a world that “crawls with large-eared villains”! A nice twist comes with Jim becoming Jemima Hawkins and in the role Patsy Ferran makes an engaging narrator, with a lot of energy to her exposition, as well as an impressive head for heights.

Arthur Darvill and Patsy Ferran in Treasure Island at the National Theatre photo by Johnan Persson
Arthur Darvill and Patsy Ferran

Jim is joined by the “blabber-mouthed” Squire Trelawney and Dr Livesey (roles Nick Fletcher and Alexandra Maher acquit themselves well with) along with a host of colourful characters. Including, of course, Long John Silver, which Arthur Darvill makes a fantastic part. At first “hardly frightening at all”, Darvill builds his character’s charisma and then menace with firm skill.

Treasure Island does lose pace. Maybe things get too silly, or Jim too gullible and fickle? The moral dilemma Jim is faced with is hard to care about, and poorly set up, which you could view as a serious flaw. Meanwhile, his counterpart as a cabin boy, Ben Gunn, proves a tiresome role for Joshua James. Attempts at serious moments aren’t convincing or sustained.

The show’s success lies in the strong staging by Findlay. The Olivier auditorium is used to good effect – if you’re seeing it on film for the first time it surely makes you want to go for real! There’s strong work from Bruno Poet as lighting designer – the constellations in the theatre are magical. Lizzie Clachan’s set well deserves the applause it receives. And, along with the expected shanties, Dan Jones’ fine score provides the final atmospheric touch for a suitably escapist show.

Available until Wednesday 22 April 2020

To support visit nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Johan Persson

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“Jane Eyre” from NTLive

After its crowd-pleasing offering last week, with One Man Two Guvnors, The National Theatre presents an adaptation of Charlotte Brontë’s classic that started life at the Bristol Old Vic. It’s a marked contrast, with a worthy air, that tells the story of everyone’s favourite orphan governess through movement and imaginative touches in a self-consciously theatrical fashion. I suspect this is the kind of show that suffers most when filmed, as the atmosphere doesn’t carry, and its failings are exaggerated.

A first flaw comes with Benji Bower’s musical direction, a confused mix of styles from Noël Coward to a Kyrie eleison. The execution is great, especially Melanie Marshall’s singing, but avant-garde touches come close to cliché and parts make no sense: why choose Mad About the Boy, denying the “flurry of a first affair”, when that is exactly what Jane is experiencing?

Sally Cookson’s direction has some inventive touches. Many connect to the lighting design from Aideen Malone, which is strong. But there are too many obvious moves, literally – the direction of movement (from Dan Canham) is predictable, while costume changes scream their import. There’s too much running on the spot and too much climbing up and down the ladders that make up Michael Vale’s set. There’s also a cast member performing as dog – never a good sign.

A relatively small ensemble might be expected to shine given how hardworking they are, but the characters, like the accents, are too broad to impress. Thankfully the leads are a success. Felix Hayes makes a good love interest for Jane; his Mr Rochester is convincing as both a profoundly tortured soul and a “trite, commonplace sinner”. Aided by a beautiful voice, Hayes even manages to say “humbug” without getting a laugh.

In the title role, a mammoth part, Madeleine Worrall is very good. Eminently watchable, Worrall does well with Jane’s fighting spirit and winning dignity. As she holds her own against authority, we see her characteristic balance of common sense and passion. And with the latter, Worrall shows us Jane’s intense emotions, focusing on the painful romance in the story and establishing a great chemistry with Hayes.

Worrall’s achievement is all the more praiseworthy given that, unlike Brontë’s heroine, she seldom addresses us directly. This key ingredient feels skipped, while the plot is followed slavishly. Frustratingly, the answer is onstage – Jane’s famous first-person narrative appears when the ensemble doubles as an inner dialogue. The technique works well, but it doesn’t happen often enough. The result, despite a long running time, is a Jane Eyre that conveys little to us and ends up feeling slight and skimpy.

Available until Wednesday 15 April 2020

To support visit nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Manuel Harlan

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“One Man Two Guvnors” from NTLive

The National Theatre’s decision to release recordings from its cinema broadcasts on YouTube while the country is on lockdown is hugely welcome. Starved of theatre in these troubled times the announcement was a genuine boost that many, myself included, are grateful for.

First up is a smash hit from 2014. Richard Bean’s adaptation of Carlo Goldoni’s commedia dell’arte play, whose title tells us its plot, is sure to provide much needed laughs. The sense of a good night out is conveyed even on a screen and I ended up enjoying the show more than first time around.

Energetically directed by Nicholas Hytner, this is theatre that seeks gags shamelessly. Bean’s hard-working script is packed with jokes: silly, slapstick, crude and cruel, using rhyming slang and old-fashioned tongue twisters. Best of all are the surreal similes that really tickle: next time anyone is unwelcome, please compare them to a “big horse in a pub” and anything unpredictable to “a wasp in a shop window”.

Heading up the hard-working text, which Hytner never allows to slack, with appropriate vim is the man of the title, James Corden. A natural “clown” and “geezer”, Corden excels with the show’s audience participation and his physical comedy is accomplished. But for my money the guvnors are the stars – two lovers in hiding who both happen to hire him as help, played by Jemima Rooper and Oliver Chris. Neither wastes a single line (Chris is especially funny), but they also make us care for their characters on the run. No matter how stupid things get, we don’t doubt their love. And, in a play that seldom pauses for breath, the moments when they believe the other has died prove especially poignant

One Man Two Guvnors is the perfect choice to start this digital season – it’s hard to imagine who wouldn’t enjoy the piece. An exciting selection of shows lies ahead, released for one week every Thursday, as some compensation while we can’t visit the South Bank in person.

Available until Wednesday 8 April 2020

To support visit nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Johan Persson

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“Death of England” at the National Theatre

If anywhere should host a state-of-the-nation play it’s surely our nation’s theatre. Roy Williams and Clint Dyer’s new work is an intelligent example of the genre. Full of insight and observation, their writing is expert. That said, it’s easy to imagine that the show will be primarily remembered for the extraordinary performance from its sole actor – Rafe Spall.

Williams and Dyer really have done a great job. The death in the title covers that of their character Michael’s father. The complex relationship between the two men, indeed the whole family, provides an intimate drama with plenty of humour. But the writers’ concerns are much wider, injecting the play with an urgent directness.

As well as getting to know a family, Death of England is a brilliantly observed look at a white working-class community and suggests a summation of the state of masculinity as much as race relations in the country. That’s a lot, and at times ‘issues’ feel forced, but Dyer’s direction of his text powers through.

Focusing on Michael’s father’s racism, Brexit and the Far Right raise their ugly heads. But Williams and Dyer want to point out that racism isn’t a fringe problem. That the father’s twisted logic includes a “time and place” for bigotry (criticising those who are too open about their prejudice) proves chilling. Michael knows he should have challenged his dad more and we can see the impact it has had on his friendships and his family. His cry to “search my history” may come in the context of the cache on a laptop but has far wider implications.

This root-and-branch examination of our country’s problems rests on Spall’s shoulder and he really is magnificent in this once-in-a-lifetime role. Addressing the audience throughout, and interacting with them a good deal, for all his faults, his patter and honesty make him appealing and often funny.

Spall’s is an incredibly physical performance, not least since a cross-shaped stage takes up a good portion of the theatre’s pit seating. With the character fuelled by drugs and alcohol, as well as rage, the switches from aggression to grief are frequent and sudden. The speech is nearly always at break-neck speed. Add the frequent shouts and tears (aside from worrying about Spall’s vocal chords) and it’s remarkable you can hear what he is saying so well.

When it comes to depicting other characters, Spall shows further intelligence. These are impersonations that Michael is making, the aim isn’t to bring another figure onto the stage but show Michael’s version of them. Getting to meet the whole family in this peculiar manner is wonderfully layered and brilliantly executed, serving Williams and Dyer’s play to perfection.

Until 8 March 2020

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Helen Murray

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"The Antipodes" at the National Theatre

Playwright Annie Baker’s first two outings on the Southbank made me a big fan. While The Flick and John were also concerned with storytelling, this third trip to London makes that topic even more explicit. As with the other plays, the setting is one room; this time a group of writers are trying to come up with ideas. Frustratingly, the scenario is never fully explained but as they brainstorm, telling seemingly random stories for inspiration, the play becomes obtuse and ends up a disappointment.

Led by Conleth Hill’s Sandy, some kind of studio guru who wants to create a “safe space” for ideas, there’s sharp satire on the creative industries, with some great observations on hierarchy in the workplace. And, as usual, Baker’s ear for contemporary voices is faultless. It’s a shame none of the characters we meet is someone we come to care about. Two old hands reveal intimate details just to shock (which leads to great performances from Arthur Darvill and Matt Bardock). Other recruits do less well: Stuart McQuarrie’s character, superbly performed, disappears after his tender personal history doesn’t impress. It all raises questions about creativity, pretty obviously. There are lots of discussions about formulas for stories that naturally interest writers – maybe audiences not so much? But Hollywood (or possibly the videogames business) isn’t really Baker’s aim…there’s more to come and The Antipodes gets increasingly confusing as a result.

The target is myths, the origin of storytelling, which takes us into dark territory. There’s much discussion of monsters and voids, but to what aim? Possibly Baker directing her own work, with the aid of Chloe Lamford, is too close to the project? The journey to explore all these themes is poorly handled, the results unconvincing. Take the forest fires that trap the protagonists at work – a too obvious attempt to create an apocalyptic air. As the writers continue failing in their aim to come up with new ideas – which in itself isn’t very interesting to watch – what’s going on becomes more bizarre. A scene performed by Bill Milner is the focal point here, but defies explication. It’s fine to abandon narrative structure (Milner’s character’s actions aren’t part of any plot) but expanding their thematic fit would be helpful. The tension Baker and Lamford create becomes both uncomfortable and uncanny. Top marks for atmosphere. But what the whole exercise is for becomes a puzzle.

Until 23 November 2019

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Manuel Harlan

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"Peter Gynt" at the National Theatre

Maybe it’s Ibsen’s status as a playwright, or the position of this work in theatre history, but Peer Gynt has a special place in the canon. This is the play’s third outing on the South Bank – and it even has its own sculpture park in Oslo! Based on a folk tale (surely a take on the Everyman story), this life story over 40 scenes cares little about the practicalities of staging. Taking in tall tales and the supernatural, much of what happens is downright crazy. While Ibsen’s ambition is clearly inspiring, and it can be interesting to see how theatre makers deal with it, the vision itself is not. The relentlessly imparted messages mix wisdom with humour and anger in a manic fashion. It’s a bit like being shouted at. And, over three-and-a-half hours, being shouted at for a long time.

Everything in Peer Gynt has a meaning, with its symbols and metaphors continually highlighted. This becomes draining. David Hare’s version works hard to tackle the didactic style with self-conscious awareness and injects a considerable energy. Setting the action in Scotland (the show is co-produced by the Edinburgh International Festival) is used to good effect. Updating the play to the present day leads to even more laughs. But the satire, while a good way of handling Ibsen’s misanthropy, doesn’t contain any surprises. Perhaps real politics are too crazy to keep up with, but casting Peter as a Donald Trump figure or calling the World Economic Forum hypocritical seem too tame.

Ann Louise Ross and James McArdle in "Peter Gynt" at the National Theatre
Ann Louise Ross and James McArdle

Director Jonathan Kent also does an excellent job of making the action interesting. There are even a few songs thrown in to keep us on our toes. Richard Hudson’s design is full of appropriately quirky touches and video work from Dick Straker is strong (especially in a shipwreck scene). The massive cast is handled expertly and there are some great performances: Tamsin Carroll stands out as the Troll Princess, while Guy Henry and Oliver Ford Davies, whose roles as The Weird Passenger and The Button Moulder rank as similarly bizarre, bring a sense of ease to the stage. Yet it’s really only Ann Louise Ross as Peter’s mother who has a substantial character and leaves an impression – which goes to show how much the play relies on its central performer.

James McArdle in "Peter Gynt" at the National Theatre
James McArdle

James McArdle steps into the well-travelled shoes as Peter/Peer. He is excellent. Technically, he can hold the massive Olivier auditorium and his physical fitness, running around all the time and barely off stage, is impressive. He handles his character’s ageing with a light touch that indicates his justified confidence. Best of all, he injects a warmth into Peter that keeps you watching. From the start, driven by anger and ego, McArdle brings out the character’s humanity, distracting from the many abstractions in the play. Peter is a unique hero, who we follow despite his many unattractive qualities. This production is as entertaining as you could wish for, and it really is a star performance from McArdle. But it’s still difficult to understand the play’s strange hold over the theatre.

Until 8 October 2019

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Manuel Harlan

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"Faith, Hope and Charity" at the National Theatre

Faith is missing. She’s a four-year old girl taken from her unstable mother and desperate older brother, brilliantly portrayed by Susan Lynch and Bobby Stallwood, in Alexander Zeldin’s new play. The heavy irony – that Faith never appears – sets the tone for this bleak piece, and there’s a sinking feeling throughout this painful look at the most vulnerable in our society.

Faith is present in one sense, as Zeldin places a lot of it in his audience’s patience. Directing his own work, the pace here is glacial: there’s little action, plenty of random conversations and, since the setting is a soup kitchen, lots of cooking and eating. I attended just after the press night and, regrettably, more than a few people left at the interval. But the verisimilitude achieved by all the detail here is remarkable. With the aid of Natasha Jenkins’ design and some marvellous lighting from Marc Williams, many of the short lines and tiny actions bring a tear to the eye. It isn’t easy viewing, but Zeldin’s bravery at demanding such patience creates powerful theatre.

Cecilia Noble and Nick Holder in 'Faith, Hope and Charity' at the National Theatre
Cecilia Noble and Nick Holder

Hope comes in the form of Mason, a role that Nick Holder makes his own. A volunteer with the choir at the community centre, he talks of “growth” and tries so hard to help it’s impossible not to adore him. Holder carefully hints at his character’s vulnerability from the start and, when we learn how damaged he really is (in a scene where both Holder and Lynch shine), the pain is raw. Although a leader for the group, Mason has as many problems as any of them and, as we see each of ensemble try so desperately to help – when they are so ill-equipped to do so – the play becomes heart-wrenching. The tiny gestures of concern and all the courtesy (I’ve never heard the word “sorry” spoken so many times in one play) are overwhelming as the problems each person faces are revealed. Alan Williams’ performance, as the eccentric Bernard, has to be highlighted: as the character sinks (there’s that word again) into dementia it becomes clearer how alone and helpless he is. The truth is that these people, each depicted so carefully by the ensemble, don’t have a chance in our society.

Alan Williams in 'Faith, Hope and Charity' at the National Theatre
Alan Williams

The neglect in Austerity Britain is all the crueller when it comes to what Zeldin sees as the greatest of these virtues. Charity defines the role of Hazel (Cecilia Noble), the manager and chef at the centre. It’s clear that she is an ideal for all these people, but the character is grounded by Noble, who makes no end of self-sacrifice believable. As the pressure mounts, in her personal life and over the future of the crumbling building, Noble’s performance goes from strength to strength. The achievements of Hazel and Mason, keeping people fed and arranging a small singing concert, aren’t small. But it’s no plot spoiler to say that Zeldin can’t give us a happy ending. Hazel hasn’t sung for years and, when she joins the ‘choir’, the result is a painful cry for help that confirms the play as a damning indictment of our times.

Until 12 October 2019

nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Sarah Lee