Tag Archives: Oliver Fenwick

“Bacchae” at the National Theatre

After taking up the toughest role in theatre this spring, Indhu Rubasinghams first show as artistic director of the National Theatre is a production under pressure. There’s a lot of thought behind it – choosing a Greek tragedy is a smart nod to the National’s past and perfect for the Olivier Theatre. Presenting a version – a “new play” – is important, too. There’s much to praise but it’s a shame that, although there are triumphant moments, Bacchae is not a triumph.

From the start, the show looks great, with fantastic puppetry representing a wounded horse. The set and costume design from Robert Jones aid Rubasingham’s clear direction and make the most of the venue. Oliver Fenwick’s lighting is ambitious and, more than once, breathtaking. The fight scenes are great. The music and sound design (DJ Walde and Ben and Max Ringham, respectively) distinctive and atmospheric. Rubasingham is clearly loving her new playground and uses it expertly – who doesn’t love a revolve?

Bacchae is also well acted. There are strong performances from James McArdle and Sharon Small as the doomed Theban royals, showing the script’s savagery and humour. The star of the show is Clare Perkins, who plays Vida, Dionysos’ adopted mother, with ferocious energy and violence while also showing the affection the character has for the man she raised. Perkins is ably supporting by the titular troop who, despite their number, work hard to bring out distinct characters. As the half-God himself, Ukweli Roach brings a lot of bling but runs into problems from the script.

As a first play for Nima Taleghani – and the first time a debut play has been performed at the Olivier – the text impresses but is full of snags. The very different kind of Greek chorus is a strong concept, but the execution is clumsy. Other ideas engage… but don’t quite make sense. Take the play’s exploration of freedom: Dionysian liberty comes at a price, which the Greeks knew, and the play can’t ignore, but Taleghani can’t quite bring himself to warn us about it. His Dionysos is too much of a hero, which dilutes a sense of danger. And there’s the status of the god and his followers – described as immigrants, refugees and terrorists. All very topical, but Dionysos isn’t powerless, or poor… and he comes from Thebes.

As for the Taleghani’s language, that’s a success, although using colloquialism and even rap isn’t particularly new. The play is funny – a nice surprise – yet, oddly, the humour doesn’t work when characters try to make jokes. There’s too much profanity in the sense that it becomes repetitive (“bro” and “fam” are also overused). As Dionysos is the god of theatre, reflections on storytelling are suitably smart, culminating in a finale from Vida that it’s hard not to hear as a statement for the beginning of Rubasingham’s tenure. It’s a strong moment, full of passion and commitment. But how provoking it can be is a problem. It shows one reason why Rubasingham’s job is so hard. Challenging the status quo from the most prestigious stage in the country falls flat. When you’re on it – you are the establishment. 

Until 1 November 2025

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Marc Brenner

“The Cord” at the Bush Theatre

Parenting, with a focus on fatherhood, is the subject of this new play written and directed by Bijan Sheibani. Intense and poetic, it sees a trio of brilliant actors examine emotions and experiences around having a child.

Ash and Anya are new parents. Overwhelmed by their love for little Louie, the everyday dramas – around grandparents or restarting a sex life – are overshadowed by bigger issues. Sheibani handles tension with subtlety, as do Irfan Shamji and Eileen O’Higgins, who take the roles and are convincing as being sleep deprived and on the edge. There’s a continual refrain that problems are not a big deal. So when arguments escalate, the atmosphere is especially fraught.

Ash’s status as a new father – indeed his whole life – seems overshadowed by his mother, Jane, who suffered from post-natal depression. Again, there is a surface calm, brilliantly portrayed by Lucy Black. But any pretended ease – over not seeing her grandchild or worrying for her own son – is effortful. When the arguments really start, there are painful home truths. Black’s performance is controlled and powerful.

All the emotion is emphasised by the composer and cellist Colin Alexander, who joins the actors, his harmonics echoing the action brilliantly. Oliver Fenwick’s lighting design is also strong, with a huge light box overhead subtly shifting colours. The whole production is stylish, with a heightened air, but it’s a shame some of the miming isn’t better.

Jane doesn’t have a lot of time for the possibility that Ash might be suffering. Does the audience? It’s a further tribute to Shamji’s performance that his character has appeal (although I wonder how much responses to the role depend on whether or not you’ve given birth). Ash does seem to want the focus of the women to return to him. And that’s hard to get past.

There’s another problem that might prove increasingly annoying… Ash’s Dad is around – he is mentioned several times and the two talk. It seems odd that Ash doesn’t speak to his own father about fatherhood. At least, there might be an explanation as to why this conversation doesn’t happen. It’s a stumble in such a detailed, focused work. The script is so skilful, I’ve no doubt the decision is deliberate, but it seems such a glaring omission that it skewers the whole play.

Until 25 May 2024

www.bushtheatre.co.uk

Photos by Manuel Harlan

“Clyde’s” at the Donmar Warehouse

Hope is the takeaway from playwright Lynn Nottage’s diner-based drama. The ex-convicts who are employed by the owner of the restaurant that takes her name know they’ve made mistakes and won’t find work elsewhere. But they still have aspirations – to make the perfect sandwich. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but Nottage and this five-star production make it a fulfilling menu.

Nottage often writes about the world of work – about trades unions in Sweat or the rag trade in Intimate Apparel. But while the setting is America, evoked with great skill, the concerns she raises are global: expectations, exploitation and the gig economy. A sense of pride in work is made palpable. To show the importance of the cuisine, the lighting and movement are invaluable, with credit to Oliver Fenwick and Kane Husbands respectively. It’s important we take these sandwiches seriously!

To really make sure we care, it’s Nottage’s larger than life but credible characters that power her drama so effectively. You root for each in a variety of ways. Director Lynette Linton and her cast present a surprising collection of heroes to perfection.

The lead role, of sorts, is Clyde, a monstrous creation performed by Gbemisola Ikumelo, who is mesmerising. Despite being the boss from hell, Clyde’s difficult life and her problems make her intriguing as well as repulsive. She’s filled with hate – the question is why. Her counterpart is the Buddha-like Montrellous portrayed by Giles Terera with suitable mystery and charisma. For all the calm, it turns out his backstory is just as dramatic.

Montrellous inspires his three fellow chefs, acting as a mentor. And he can teach us all a thing or two. These younger characters adore him in heartwarming fashion while, of course, having their own problems. The dynamics between them prove engrossing. A potential love affair between characters exquisitely portrayed by Sebastian Orozco and Ronkẹ Adékọluẹ́jọ́ adds romance, while an unrecognisable Patrick Gibson has a stunning role as former gang member Jason.

There is nothing laboured about Nottage’s dialogue or, indeed, its delivery. While the problems faced are heavy, the humour is light – Clyde’s is a very funny play. Many playwrights can show their wit and create characters a little too amusing to believe. But the humour here feels effortless and flows naturally. Chef’s kisses for this great work.

Until 2 December 2023

www.donmarwarehouse.com

“The Sun, The Moon, And The Stars” at the Theatre Royal Stratford East

Strong ideas and intriguing verse make the quality of Dipo Baruwa-Etti’s new play easy to spot. Superb direction from Nadia Fall and a stunning performance from Kibong Tanji take the production close to five-star territory.

Tanji plays Femi, a young woman whose twin brother has been murdered in a racist attack. Baruwa-Etti writes viscerally about grief: it takes over the body, becoming something elemental, so big it is related to the celestial. This is powerful writing, but it’s the physicality Tanji brings to the role that is mind blowing. I’d put money on her having trained as a dancer.

The clever move is to relate how grief warps Femi’s mind. A desire for justice becomes consuming and violent fantasies isolate Femi from her friends. Achieving a balance between sympathy for the character and being afraid of her – as well as for her – is skilfully achieved.

a stage spectre to rival the best

Femi’s mental ill-health provides a further character for the play – the ghost of her brother. Here, all involved excel. Tanji depicts her character’s reactions to the ghost and slips effortlessly into embodying him as well. Fall injects fantastic tension, with the help of lighting and sound designers Oliver Fenwick and Tingying Dong respectively. And Baruwa-Etti has created a stage spectre to rival the best.

That Femi is haunted is a smart way to link the twins’ experience of racism, then Femi’s encounter with the criminal justice system, with questions of history. But her brother Sean’s ghost is individual enough to make a powerful drama about characters who are more than symbols for societal woes.  

A benevolent, often calming presence, Sean provides support that leads to tender moments recalling the siblings’ childhood. He has instructions… and they aren’t always what his sister wants to hear. The suggestion that Sean also manipulates adds to his fascination. That her ghostly companion leads to the suggestion of Femi’s salvation is a conclusion that, although arriving abruptly, is inspiring.

Until 20 June 2021

www.stratfordeast.com

Photo by The Other Richard