Tag Archives: National Theatre

2019

“Downstate” at the National Theatre

If your life has been even vaguely touched by the tragedy of child abuse, then this new play by Bruce Norris will be difficult to watch. The scenario of four men on the sex offenders register in the US living together on probation is an unpalatable subject matter for most. But theatrically Norris and his team from Chicago’s prestigious Steppenwolf Theatre have achieved the improbable – creating a kind of sympathy for these men and making great drama as a result. The provocative strategy has a further use – creating an empathy for people we find repulsive allows big questions to be asked with challenging clarity.

Justice, with the dichotomy of punishment versus vengeance, is the theme. And it’s complicated by the need to continue to protect children that the men now live near. We see two sides of contrition, in the roles taken by Eddie Torres and Francis Guinan, both equally questionable and powerful. All this might be considered a timeless dilemma. But Norris also addresses a particularly topical concern – ideas about trauma and victimhood particular to our times – with remarkable bravery. Giving a voice to the abusers is a bold move. The reasoned arguments, presented with wit or religion respectively by the characters K Todd Freeman and Glenn Davis so brilliantly portray, are remarkable. The tension with our distrust of these men is wonderfully handled.

Cecilia Noble and Eddie Torres

Along with these personal debates, we encounter the judicial system, represented by probation officer Ivy, brought to the stage so vividly by Cecilia Noble. There are practical touches and legal constraints to Ivy’s generally sympathetic approach to the men, as well as utterly credible touches of exhaustion. But the play’s real originality comes with scenes of a victim confronting his abuser. Andy, played with such care and skill by Tim Hopper, shows a brittle calm presenting rote-learned arguments arrived at via his therapy. It’s almost unbearably tense at times and incredibly sad but, importantly, thought provoking.

The writing is close to flawless, so it’s a shame that one plot twist is over prepared and therefore not quite as shocking as intended. Meanwhile, the performances are perfection and director Pam MacKinnon deals with the actors and the subject matter with utmost care. Without degrading Andy’s trauma, and getting considerable dramatic tension from the idea that we cannot trust these convicted felons, Norris leaves open a judgement as to a statement that victims don’t lie, with the suggestion that there are degrees of trauma that victims as much as the law fail to take into account. It’s a suggestion uncomfortably out of kilter with our times and surely important to raise for that very reason.

Until 27 April 2019

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Michael Brosilow

2018

“Antony and Cleopatra” at the National Theatre

Lavish is the only word to describe Simon Godwin’s new production of Shakespeare’s epic historical romance. With an iconic love story, battles for an empire, a star cast and luxurious fittings, everything about the play is overblown. It makes sense for Godwin to follow Shakespeare’s lead, but so much exaggeration does end up tiring.

This is a traditional production. Despite some modern uniforms and a TV screen, the delivery is clear and there are no fancy ideas driving it. Quality is the aim and that is achieved. Hildegard Bechtler’s set makes grand use of the space, Cleopatra’s costumes by Evie Gurney could come from a catwalk and Michael Bruce’s live music, with a flavour of both the East and the military, is so good it deserves to be released.

The performances are strong, too. Sophie Okonedo takes the daunting title role in her stride. She makes a beguiling queen and is carefully understated. The constant performance Cleopatra sets up (the character is aware she always has an audience) is made to feel natural and entertaining. Ably supported by Gloria Obianyo as her servant Charmian, the queen moves in an Egyptian court dripping with sophistication. But all that confidence ends up a problem. It robs the tension from Antony’s first departure and, more importantly, deflates the play’s obsessive insistence on fate. It’s easy to believe Cleopatra’s pride would lead her to a final suicide, but isn’t she supposed to see it as an escape from fickle fortune?

There’s a similar stubbornness in the other star name, Ralph Fiennes. His “old ruffian” Antony is convincingly down to earth – he runs off for a drink as if going into battle. But when his authority “melts”, it’s hard to remember it was ever there. The “Roman thoughts” that Cleopatra fears will overcome him don’t seem to enter his mind. Nonetheless, it is fantastic to see a performer who can hold the Olivier stage as well as Fiennes. Both Fiennes and Okonedo deliver the verse with a natural fluency that is a high point of the show. This may be too safe an affair for some, but Godwin and his cast deal with a difficult play with extravagant competency.

Until 19 January 2019

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Johan Persson

2018

“Home, I’m Darling” at the National Theatre

While the culture of the 1950s has appeal for many, including a misguided political nostalgia, setting out to actually live as if in the period is the extreme scenario for Laura Wade’s new play. Trying to step back in time means buying not just retro wallpaper but also decrepit kitchen appliances for the stay-at-home wife to use. The idea is a novel, if flawed, way to question as well as mock those who idealise the past. Unfortunately, the play is really worth remembering only because of its brilliant performances.

Home, I’m Darling is essentially a romantic comedy about Judy and Johnny. Their decision to ignore the present day, and how their lifestyle came about, has some twists. And Judy becoming a housewife serves as a speedy springboard to consider women’s lives then and now. There’s also the theme of individuality – how many problems come from others’ perceptions of their eccentricity? It’s just a shame that all these themes feel tacked on.

Kathryn Drysdale and Barnaby Kay
Kathryn Drysdale and Barnaby Kay

If the questions and issued seem contrived and obvious, it’s still all wonderfully performed. Wade’s characterisation holds attention. Katherine Parkinson and Richard Harrington take the leads and manage to convince us that their marriage is special. Other parts are blatant foils but, again, the cast manage to make them work. The scepticism of Judy’s mother and Johnny’s boss leads to great dialogue and is superbly performed by, respectively, Sian Thomas and Sara Gregory. Meanwhile two friends, 1950s followers rather than fanatics, are satisfyingly filled out by Kathryn Drysdale and Barnaby Kay.

Katherine Parkinson
Katherine Parkinson

This is unquestionably Parkinson’s show. All too obviously, donning rose-tinted period spectacles is a distraction for bigger problems, and Parkinson suggests this depth better than Wade writes it. She makes you feel for Judy at every attempt to be an “angel in the house”. A constrained fragility is conveyed to perfection and incredible tension ensues over the smallest domestic tasks.

As the sexism of the past comes into collision with modern values, it makes us ask how much progress has been made. There’s a sexism-at-work subplot that is effective. But if not quite as laboured as housewifery, these points are long-winded and Tamara Harvey’s direction, with scenes slow to arrive, doesn’t help to inject urgency. Wade struggles with some virtue signalling about the scenario as a “luxurious” choice and the drama of hard economic facts impinging on a one-salary household. Ultimately, while the play has lots of good jokes (and looks great thanks to Anna Fleischle’s set and costumes), the idea doesn’t have enough scope to develop past a sketch or short story.

Until 5 September 2018

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Manuel Harlan

2018

“Consent” at the Harold Pinter Theatre

Nina Raine’s play, a hit transfer from the National Theatre, is exciting new writing. The crafted yet uncontrived piece illustrates how much a talented author can juggle, and Consent is a play full of seemingly contradictory qualities that combine into great theatre.

The plot is a too-simple story of infidelities – a pretty tried and tired topic – as a group of friends, mostly lawyers, make a mess of their marriages. But their motivations, and how their lives change, give the story complexity. It’s essentially a talking heads piece, set around drinks parties and a courtroom drama, but it bristles with an unnerving dynamism.

The theatricality of the law is a blunt point, frequently made, but Raine treats it with finesse. Are the characters’ careers a toxic pollutant of their private lives? Or are the successful barristers closer to their clients than they – or we – would like to think? Raine challenges her – let’s face it – middle-class audience in a sophisticated fashion, laying bare some pretty tawdry emotions with sophistication.

The play couldn’t be more topical. The discussions around consensual sex are only a part of it: the work-life balance of these high flyers is in the news, including their drug abuse, while the obsession with property – and sofas – is tiresomely recognisable. Opposed to this, the battles between the sexes and the classes that Raine highlights makes a claim to be universal: Greek theatre is in the background and makes a fascinating parallel to her work.

Consent is a think piece, cerebral to a fault, with discussions about justice, guilt, repentance and atonement. Yet the play is as emotionally intense as you could wish, with broken hearts all around and characters driven to crazed revenge.

As you might expect with so many abstract ideas, this is serious stuff. But (another contradiction) the play is full of great laughs. Not just dark humour, either – some of the jokes are surprisingly childish and it’s a shock to hear laughs so close to such dark subject matter.

Heather Craney and Stephen Campbell Moore 

The strong material is meat and drink to the talented cast. Stephen Campbell Moore and and Claudie Blakley are superb as the leading couple Edward and Kitty. There’s strong support from Adam James and Sian Clifford as their friends, while Heather Craney takes two roles with equal assurance. A final accolade goes to director Roger Michell, who tackles Raine’s superb text with such assurance. He’s bold enough to bring out all the tension and subtle enough to show each complexity.

Until 11 August 2018

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Johan Persson

2018

“Julie” at the National Theatre

Polly Stenham’s new play, described as “after” August Strindberg’s Miss Julie, has just enough going for it. A bold authorial voice and strong performance from Vanessa Kirby in the title role compensate for flaws in a stylish script full of contemporary touches.

Strindberg’s play, about a love affair that defies class, has been adapted before, but this updating is particularly bold. The 1888 text has been stripped bare: it’s all about the money, as a poor little rich girl starts an affair with her daddy’s chauffeur, with tragic results.

Stenham’s skill is with dialogue, and the way Julie speaks is exemplary, instantly recognisable and witty. We’ve all heard Julie around town or worked with her (one summer I served her in Selfridges). We see how smart she is, how superficially appealing her “technicolour” personality might be, and the tragedy of her “shapeless” life.

Julie makes for an in-depth character study that Kirby embraces – her performance will keep you watching. But sympathy with the character isn’t allowed – any self-pity is a luxury. You may agree with Stenham, or wonder why she is so tough, or speculate on how her decisions relate to Strindberg’s infamous preface to his play. But the sentiment slims the play down and director Carrie Cracknell ends up padding it out with party scenes that look expensive but add little. Robbed of credibility, Julie’s relationships with her servants, fiancés whose romance she destroys, are too crass; there’s little drama and no sexual tension.

Both Eric Kofi Abrefa and Thalissa Teixeira do well in the roles of Julie’s employees, taking advantage of the depth Stenham gives their roles. But the characters are a little too noble, lacking edge or danger. Likewise, Kirby depicts Julie’s mental instability with intensity, but the character is a mess from the start, her end too predictable. The problem is a lack of nuance that makes the show, like Tom Scutt’s stylish set, rather too monochrome.

Until 8 September 2018

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Richard H Smith

2018

“Absolute Hell” at the National Theatre

It’s a brave actress who takes on a role made famous by Judi Dench but as Christine, the alcoholic autophobic landlady of Rodney Ackland’s play, Kate Fleetwood brings her usual consummate skill to the job. Like her club, which remained open throughout the Blitz, Christine is falling apart just as World War II ends and most people are starting life again. Acclaim should be shared with Charles Edwards as Hugh, a too-regular-regular and once promising author who remains sympathetic despite his scrounging and whining. The couple’s love lives and drunken desperation power the play into a dark territory that makes this a fascinating piece.

Charles Edwards and Jonathan Slinger
Charles Edwards and Jonathan Slinger

The members of La Vie En Rose club create the kind of ensemble show the National Theatre excels in, and the size of the cast alone is impressive. Sinéad Matthews does well as the louche Elizabeth, carrying on an affair in front of her long-term partner Siegfried (Danny Webb), while Jonathan Slinger’s gloriously camp film director Maurice Hussey attempts to live up to his name. If Martins Imhangbe doesn’t quite convince as the object of all affections, the fault lies with the writer – the earnest GI’s sincerity has no place amongst all this narcissism and nastiness. Which isn’t to say you won’t enjoy watching the club’s habitués: there’s a strong collection of comic cameos, including Liza Sadovy as an heiress dubbed The Treacle Queen, and Lloyd Hutchinson’s mad artist.

Everyone is escaping, and it’s a theme Ackland is less than subtle with. The play’s first incarnation was in the 1950s and overtones of Existentialism overpower it. Director Joe Hill-Gibbons decides not to restrain the piece and excesses occur, including poor Rachel Dale as local prostitute Fifi forced to walk around the stage all night – surely a little too literal? Lizzie Clachan’s set design does not serve the play well. There’s a lot of coming and going here and using the whole of the Lyttleton stage as well as giving the club three flights of stairs makes it all rather exhausting to watch.

Both play and production make up for problems with the humour on offer. Above all, it’s startlingly original. This cruel look at war-time Britain isn’t the kind of thing we are used to – no wonder it shocked so soon after the events depicted. As a satirist, Ackland is a harsh master. As insult and faux pas fly, characters become increasingly diminished in the audience’s eyes. Is there anyone to root for here? There are certainly no failings that aren’t ruthlessly exposed. The humour is out-and-out biting, vicious and extreme. And, by delivering absolutes, the play becomes heaven rather than hell.

Until 16 June 2018

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Johan Persson

2018

“Network” at the National Theatre

Bryan Cranston’s funny, moving and truly magnetic star turn as a television news anchor who goes mad is a soaring success. And there are strong performances from Douglas Henshall and Michelle Dockery as TV executives fighting to profit from or protect Beale, while they start a romantic affair. A large supporting cast are on hand to broadcast Beale’s breakdown and subsequent career as a TV prophet who channels “popular rage”. As the ratings rocket, the chaos of live TV is innovatively portrayed. And yet director Ivo van Hove’s hit show has left me a little baffled.

With camera operators joining the performers, this show is a technical marvel. Nearly all the action is filmed live, including a scene on the Southbank, and relayed to a giant screen. Most people have seen something like it before… but not on this scale. Often confusing (although occasionally the delay in feedback is used to great effect), for most of the time it’s an exciting, if overwhelming, technique. Action occurs at the extremes of the stage, so no matter where you sit you will struggle at times. And there’s some toe-curling audience participation, which never works at the National Theatre. Most memorably there’s a restaurant on stage – a real one. So people are having a whole meal during the show, which proves distracting enough to watch, let alone partake in. Apart from a lame pun on the idea of TV dinners, allowing this pop-up is a real puzzle.

There’s a lot going on, and if you cried gimmick it would be hard to argue against you. Nonetheless Van Hove’s iron grip on events makes the show plough on with an arresting energy. The problem is a slim play. Lee Hall’s adaptation of Paddy Chayefsky’s film is too conservative, pinning the play in its 1970s moment, when we all know how much the media has moved on. A campaign recruiting the public to send in videos of themselves repeating Beale’s “I am mad as hell” mantra sticks out painfully. Even worse, several speeches by Beale and a godlike owner of the company show the central ideas in the piece as dated, nonsensical, conspiracy theories. Moments clearly meant to be profound end up sounding silly. No amount of fancy tricks can hide a flaw like that.

Until 24 March 2018

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Jan Versweyveld

2018

“John” at the National Theatre

Annie Baker’s new play is probably the best show at the Dorfman Theatre since… the last play by Annie Baker was staged there. This is a major writer with a unique voice, forging works of originality, distinguished by intelligence, humour and a distinctive quietude.
John has the bare bones of a plot: a couple, whose relationship is on the rocks, visit a guest house for a weekend break. It’s a more a scenario than a story. Not a lot happens and you spend plenty of time watching people eat biscuits. But the play is so fecund with ellipses and questions it feels perfectly replete.

Jenny and Elias are the solipsistic couple on the verge of breaking up, Anneika Rose and Tom Mothersdale deliver crafted portrayals of these neurotic Millennials, bringing out a lot of gentle jokes. Neither is very appealing, with cares and concerns that are all of the moment. The real stars of the play are the two much older characters: the B&B’s owner, Mertis, and her friend Genevieve. Marylouise Burke plays the kooky proprietor to perfection, being adorably endearing and deeply mysterious. It’s an appropriately detailed performance, full of nuance and control. In her smaller role, June Watson excels in delivering the jokes with dead-pan perfection. Don’t rush to the bar too quickly after the second act, as Genevieve’s monologue after the curtain has fallen is not to be missed.

 June Watson and Marylouise Burke

The giant red curtain is opened and closed by Burke for each act, nicely summarising Baker’s extreme and playful approach to naturalism. The dialogue rings true, even when there are flights of fancy, and the pacing is slow, emphasised by a ticking clock and Peter Mumford’s lighting design. Restraint is the key, which places the burden on the cast and director James Macdonald. Resisting temptation, not an action feels rushed, as that would break the spell. John has a strange magic.

This is a three-hour play that doesn’t feel a moment too long. The one-room set with its excess of gewgaws comes to fascinate as it embodies Mertis’ object-orientated ontology. From the dolls she collects to the sunsets she contemplates, all matter is alive. Talk of ghosts and the battle of Gettysburg, along with personal histories full of playful parallels, are all toyed with – and debunked. Downright puzzles and unanswered questions abound. Here is a real naturalism – a new kind – that creates a play unlike any other.

Until 3 March 2018

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Stephen Cummiskey

2017

“Follies” at the National Theatre

This lavish production of Stephen Sondheim’s 1971 musical is a triumph for director Dominic Cooke. This is a piece that divides opinion. While its songs have gained fame, the rambling story of past lives, set around a reunion of former Broadway performers, has too slender a book by James Goldman. But in Cooke’s hands this feast of melancholic nostalgia is coherent and compelling. With no small help from the Olivier’s revolve, a static story is made to at least feel dynamic. The tone is serious, suitably so, with any camp fiercely controlled. The cast is huge, the orchestra lush and Vicki Mortimer’s design will surely garner her an award for the costumes alone. The ‘ghosts’ of lives past appear with a gorgeous array of headgear, while the late 1960s costumes of those meeting one last time before a theatre is demolished are just as meticulous and impressive.

Imelda Staunton as playing Sally and Janie Dee as Phyllis

Follies provides the irony of performers at the top of their game pretending that their careers are over. Imelda Staunton continues her reign as Queen of Musicals by playing Sally and is matched by Janie Dee as Phyllis. The women performed and dated together but have ended up in sad marriages with the wrong men. Sharing their unhappiness are the husbands, Ben and Buddy, brilliantly performed by Philip Quast and Peter Forbes respectively. The women have the stronger numbers. Staunton delivers the hit Losing My Mind impeccably and her hysterical devotion to the man who got away manages against all odds to be convincing. Dee is the wicked witch of the piece, getting the laughs and showing the emptiness of her character’s successful life with pathos. But of all the mid-to-late-life crisis on offer here (and there’s plenty of it) Phyllis is the only one that entertains. There’s young talent in the show, too: Adam Rhys-Charles and Fred Haig both do well as the immature versions of the men but, while Zizi Strallen and Alex Young ably perform their roles as the younger women, the parts themselves are frustratingly thinly written.

Zizi Strallen as Young Phyllis, Alex Young as Young Sally, Fred Haig as Young Buddy and Adam Rhys-Charles as Young Ben

Given its size, Follies is a major investment to stage – a concert production was my only experience so expectations were high. To say this isn’t Sondheim’s best work still makes it head and shoulders above most musicals. But some of the lyrics are strangely flat and a couple of numbers, which take us back the early days of Broadway, of primarily academic interest. It’s the book that causes most problems – much of the show is a series of introductions – that fail to excite – about characters not met again. It’s a poor build up to a prolonged conclusion – the central quartet’s individual “follies” numbers that feel like ground already trodden. The stakes simply aren’t high enough to truly engage and the characters’ angst start to look like whinging. Musicals can cover serious topics – nobody proves that better than Sondheim – but here we just have a collection of personal crises that ends up dispiriting.

Until 3 January 2018

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Johan Persson

2017

“Saint George and the Dragon” at the National Theatre

The always excellent John Heffernan takes the title role in Rory Mullarkey’s new play and gives a truly heroic performance. But can he save the day and the play? Almost… yet not quite, although it’s still a pleasure to see him on stage. Looking at our national legend at the nation’s theatre is a neat idea, as is writing the story as a contemporary allegory (in three chapters). Unfortunately, this brave effort delivers too little.

The opening act, set in a parodied mediaeval world, gets the show off to a great start. With Pythonesque touches, Heffernan makes the foppish George a figure to laugh at, while retaining just the right amount of dignity. His damsel in distress in updated effectively by Amaka Okafor, making their courtship a lark. As for the Dragon, Julian Bleach has a great deal of fun playing his earthly form, camping it up terrifically. It’s all staged slickly by director Lyndsey Turner, with Rae Smith’s design looking great. It’s silly but it’s funny, charming even, and very enjoyable.

After a year George returns to his island home, which has undergone an industrialisation that has enslaved its people. The Dragon isn’t a monster, but “every system needs a master” and, suited and booted, he is bureaucracy incarnate. It’s another great turn from Bleach and his now imprisoned former henchman, played by Richard Goulding, does well from the confines of a prison set. But this time the dénouement is thin and unconvincing; the Dragon too easily vanquished. It’s simplistic and too predictable.

To continue with a lack of surprises, after another year, George returns again – this time to a version of the present. Cue skyscrapers descending on to the stage in a This Is Spinal Tap moment that Smith has had enough experience to have avoided. And that’s the least of the problems with this unhappily ever after ending. The Dragon continues incorporeal – his evil inside us all – and there’s no place for saints, nowadays. Heffernan excels as a George out of time and perfectly reflects the play’s questioning of heroes and heroics. But this is slim stuff for a long play, as the repetition indicates, as well as being bleak and naive. Both Mullarkey and Turner lose control with an overblown finale that’s uncomfortably messy. And really just downright silly.

Until 2 December 2017

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Johan Persson