Tag Archives: Paule Constable

“Nye” at the National Theatre

If you can make a claim for any politician being a hero, it’s Aneurin Bevan, founder of the NHS and the subject of Tim Price’s new play. But there are pitfalls in dramatising this remarkable life. Despite stellar performances and efforts to inject energy into the show, we all know the story and there’s very little to say.

Price does well. We get the story from Bevan’s death bed, so we are ready to shed a tear from the start. There’s a lot of personal history covered, as well as big events to make it feel insightful. A lifelong friend and a formidable wife are brought to the fore, making great roles for Roger Evans and Sharon Small. Oh, and there’s a strong Winston Churchill cameo from Tony Jayawardena. Taking the title role, Michael Sheen plays all ages of the great man’s life while maintaining the show’s conceit – that what we’re watching comes from a morphine-induced stupor. Barely leaving the stage for two and half hours, Sheen delivers a brilliant performance. 

Nye Sharon-Small-Jennie-Lee-Nye-National-Theatre-Johan-Persson-scaled
Sharon Small

Director Rufus Norris keeps the action rolling with a big bag of tricks. There are lovely moments of movement, with characters lifted and carried around the stage, credited to co-choreographers Steven Hoggett and Jess Williams. A scene in a library from Bevan’s childhood is just gorgeous. Lighting design and projections (Paule Constable and Jon Driscoll) make the most of Vicki Mortimer’s set of giant hospital screens. Clement Atlee’s remote-control desk deserves a mention. And there’s even a song and dance number at one point. You can’t say there’s a lack of ideas. Yet each scene is just a little too long, each idea just a touch laboured. Not only does the show end up feeling like a long night, but all the effort feels clinical.

The biggest problem is that the examination is cursory when it comes to setting up the NHS. Struggles in Parliament and with the British Medical Association, which could make a whole play, are brief. There are goosebumps, but they are down to Sheen, who brings a conviction to the role that is inspiring. Bevan’s outsider status is clear – but it is seen as an advantage as much as a handicap. His growth into power, from activist to politician, is not something to be ashamed of. You can agree with it all, but also note a lack of dramatic tension. There just isn’t much debate in Nye, even if the oratory itself is excellent.

Until 11 May 2024

www.nationaltheatre.co.uk

Photos by Johan Persson

“Cold War” at the Almeida Theatre

All the tragic romance in Paweł Pawlikowski’s 1998 film is present in this adaptation from Conor McPherson, directed by Rupert Goold. The story of two musicians, Wiktor and Zula, separated by the titular conflict when he defects to France, is intense; from passion filled first meeting, to damaging co-dependency, and a depressing finale.

Cold War is a play with music rather than a musical but there are a lot of songs. Under the musical direction of Jo Cichonska the show sounds great. First there are folk songs: Wiktor is collecting them with his lover Irene (a superb performance from Alex Young) when he meets Zula. The traditional music is re-arranged throughout the show to great effect. But we also get new compositions from Elvis Costello. It’s all interesting and subtle, complimenting and commenting on action rather than being the focus.

Elliot Levey, Alex Young and Luke Thallon
Elliot Levey, Alex Young and Luke Thallon

There’s more than the lovers to consider. Questions of art as propaganda and the role of nationalism follow our musicians, most notably in the form of Kaczmarek, a character Elliot Levy skilfully develops from party apparatchik to impresario. The big themes are thin at times, the politics cursory. But there’s plenty to think about and Goold powers through. Then there’s a lot of talk of freedom – how that relates to creativity. So, we’re very much in tortured artist territory. Wiktor and Zula want to do something new and become frustrated.

As trigger warnings state, the outcome for the couple is awful. There are efforts not to glamorise what happens. Wiktor and Zula make interesting anti-heroes that challenge how stylish the production is. Paule Constable’s excellent lighting design has seductive moments (such sexy spotlights) but also harsh clinical glares. Goold is too smart to make the show a straightforward tearjerker – credit to him – but it is odd programming for the festive season.

It’s with the lead performances, from Anya Chalotra and Luke Thallon, that the show really succeeds. Thallon conveys his character’s pain cleverly – Wiktor is a man who hides much. Chalotra is a revelation, full of humour and magnetism while showing a mania that the role requires. She has a sweet voice, and, even tougher, has to sing badly at times (oh, and they both do drunk very well). The couple have a marvellously natural way about them, and for a lot of the time you believe they have fun together. Neither passion nor antagonism are overplayed. Chalotra and Thallon make sure you never quite know what’s going to happen. They make the show exciting and provide a highlight in what might otherwise be just too grim.

Until 27 January 2024

www.almeida.co.uk

Photos by Marc Brenner

“Les Misérables” at the Sondheim Theatre

‘If it ain’t broke don’t fix it’ is not the maxim of Cameron Mackintosh. Despite enormous success, the RSC’s production of Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg’s musical has been restaged. Previously a touring version, the ‘new’ show comes from former cast members and now directors Laurence Connor and James Powell. It’s obvious how well they know the piece. And don’t worry – Les Mis is as wonderful as ever.

If a little upstaged by the fantastic concert version of the show, which filled in after lockdown, Connor and Powell have clear ideas. I won’t be drawn into saying if the result is better or worse, but there’s no reasons Trevor Nunn’s previous version should be considered definitive. If the new version seems more static, maybe more traditional, it’s still a crowd pleaser.

The moral struggle between convict turned religious convert Jean Valjean and police inspector Javert, a very literal embodiment of law and order, is focused to the point of perfection. There are social issues, romance and, of course, revolution. The marvel of Nunn and John Caird’s adaptation is not just that all of this is easily followed by an audience, but that it enthrals.

Jon-Robyns-as-Jean-Valjean-Photograph-Johan-Persson
Jon Robyns as Jean-Valjean

There is a rawness to some of the vocals that might raise eyebrows. Squeezing out all possible drama – and the show is melodramatic anyway – is prioritised by Connor and Powell. Bradley Jaden’s Javert is a charismatic figure, fraught with angst. If the role is overshadowed by Valjean, that’s down to Jon Robyns’ star presence. Both male leads give terrific performances.

The comedy is particularly strong, mostly due to the always excellent Josefina Gabrielle and Gerard Carey as the dastardly Thénardier couple. And there’s a superb Enjolras (leader of the 1832 revolt the show documents): Jordan Shaw brings a beauty to the singing of this role that I hadn’t appreciated before.

Connor and Powell have clearly inspired their cast. And credit where it is due, plenty has been learned from Nunn: the staging isn’t fussy, several scenes are powerful because of their simplicity. There is justified confidence in On My Own(and a great performance from Sha Dessi). It’s a shame Empty Chairs at Empty Tables has less impact; I just can’t imagine how that could have been improved.

Talking about the revolution

The redesign comes from Matt Kinley, also long associated with the show. The big news is that the famous revolving stage is gone! The world hasn’t stopped turning as a result, but I did miss it: there’s a little too much marching on a spot. The action, you might say energy, is literally more frontal – with characters facing the audience almost obsessively.

It’s clear where money has been spent. Javert’s final scene does look better. And the projections of Parisian sewers are more technically advanced. Yet backdrops (inspired by Victor Hugo’s paintings) impress mostly because of their size. It’s all part of the production being a little, well, flatter. That isn’t always a bad thing: the show also seems speedier.

Nunn was no stranger to a tableau, but the new production feels frozen at times – almost too eager to focus on key moments that are literally in the spotlight. Lighting designer Paule Constable has done lovely work that’s dramatic and directs attention. But occasionally there is a halting feeling to the show. It’s as if everyone is posing for a photo.

These are observations rather than criticism. You are sure to enjoy Les Misérables as much as ever – the music and the performances are marvellous. Debating if the production is tighter and more direct or maybe a little less exciting is now part of the fun. If I’m not sure anything really needed fixing, this new Les Mis is far from broken

www.lesmis.com

Photos by Michael Le Poer Trench and Johan Persson

“The Ocean at the end of the Lane” at the Duke of York’s Theatre

Neil Gaiman’s fantasy tale, adapted for the stage by Joel Horwood, is clever. An introduction to some metaphysics as well as the supernatural makes the story as thought-provoking as it’s entertaining. The piece is as much about childhood and parenthood as adventure, which makes it moving emotionally as well as being action-packed. If a little too attentive to its genre (which you either love or hate), The Ocean at the End of the Lane is brought to the stage with great style. 

Having a best friend, Lettie, who is some kind of witch proves a mixed blessing for our young hero. A play date results in the unnamed boy’s home being invaded by a monster who usually lives on the fringes of our reality! The creature, who transforms into Ursula (played very capably by Laura Rogers) controls a grieving father and gullible sister. Thankfully, Lettie (who isn’t really young) can magically help out. The plot is diverting enough – but solidly aimed at children.

Gaiman says his story is about memory, which doesn’t come across so much on stage. But having an adult character reminisce about the events of his childhood, and then perform as his own father, adds layers to the characters, which helps both James Bamford and Nicolas Tennant in their roles. Other characters are fun, if sketchy, such as the ‘Sis’ter, played by Grace Hogg-Robinson. But there are too many questions around Lettie’s motivation, skated over with the powerful performance from Nia Towle.

As with previous National Theatre hits for children (War HorseCoram Boy) the show isn’t scared to be dark, a little gory and sometimes funny – well done for trying on all counts. The gore is good, but the humour is unoriginal and there is too little threat. It’s really director Katy Rudd’s work that makes the show a success. Breathless and excited about adventure and magic, the piece convinces against the odds.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane

The puppets (credited to Samuel Wyer) are as good as any I’ve seen on stage. Paule Constable has surpassed herself with lighting design. Above all, the soundtrack from Jherek Bischoff is superb – it’s no surprise it’s on sale. And Steven Hoggett’s movement direction is the key, well done (all the more welcome, since the dialogue is poor), with everyone moving props and acting all the while. Rudd has made sure the show eminently theatrical. Of course, fantasy on stage works! Imagination is the key to theatre and the genre – and the production harnesses this with great skill.

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Until May 2022

Photo by Manuel Harlan

“Heisenberg: The Uncertainty Principle” at Wyndham’s Theatre

Werner Heisenberg’s scientific theories provide the intellectual scaffolding of Simon Stephens’ new play. The principle – that measuring objects reveals an underlying uncertainty in physics – supplies a riff on the unexpected that’s lightly played alongside an unconventional romance. There’s little to boggle the mind here. Instead, this is a play full of laughs, affection… and a good deal of wisdom.

The relationship between Georgie and Alex is taboo-breaking because of their 33-year age gap. And both characters are pretty eccentric overall. The plot thickens (there’s a son to search for), but all the unusual behaviour is really about destabilising our expectations. It’s just two people getting to know one another – but, my, how this twists.

The couple meet by accident, of course, but each encounter contains the unexpected. It’s the distance between the characters that Stephens explores, akin to a comment Alex makes about music happening “between the notes”. Their age is one way they have different perspectives on their “shared experience”, and seeing both views makes this a two-hander of considerable depth and intimacy.

The play requires subtlety to work. Stephens’ frequent collaborator Marianne Elliott directs with an appropriately quiet confidence. The set by Bunny Christie is a stylish sliding affair with complementary mood lighting (from Paule Constable). But nothing distracts us from the quiet story of intricate observations. The performances from Anne-Marie Duff and Kenneth Cranham are superb. Both embrace their characters’ quirks to make the play entertaining. Cranham’s “wily old fox” is full of charm and intelligence, while Duff embodies Grace’s vulnerability and her quality of being “exhausting but captivating”. Uncertainty, as a principle to live by, is a peculiarly powerful idea. Few of us may be convinced by it, but this play presents the unpredictable in a charmingly determined fashion.

Until 6 January 2018

www.delfontmackintosh.co.uk

Photo by Brinkhoff Mögenburg

“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

“Common” at the National Theatre

With big subjects, a huge cast, and the Olivier stage to play with, DC Moore’s new play aims at being epic – and, up to its interval, it feels as if it might be. The twisting plot, following the story of Mary, brilliantly portrayed by Anne-Marie Duff, is an interesting mix of melodrama and the supernatural. The language, combining old and new vocabulary, odd syntax and lots of swearing, makes the text original, satisfyingly dense and a great deal of fun.

Set in the early 18th century, the play’s first topic is the enclosure of common land and one community’s struggle to prevent this devastating policy. The dramatic potential and importance are clear – a description of enclosure as “a dry word with a sharp end” is great – but the play seems embarrassed by its subject matter. Painful metatheatricality is thrown in with an overt disavowal of “dry historical accuracy”. But facts are fine, really – a bit of history won’t hurt a play.

Common is more interested in the superstition that filled agricultural communities. Director Jeremy Herrin goes to town with some Wicker Man horror that makes one gory scene especially good. The costumes and lighting, by Richard Hudson and Paule Constable, fit well. But there’s little sense of anything else – despite a subplot about incest that… well, I guess must have some point to it. As the action boils over, interest cools: the plot is abbreviated and the sign off comes across as trite. There’s too little concern for anyone apart from Mary, who overpowers the play. Cush Jumbo as a former lover and Tim McMullan as the local landowner have a go, but Duff is left to propel all.

However uneven, Mary is a brilliant creation that Duff makes a joy to watch. A romantic rogue (her self-description is a good deal more colourful) returning to the country after a debauched life in London, Mary’s psychic abilities and supernatural invincibility batter credulity – even before a crow starts talking to her. But like all devils Mary gets great lines – Moore’s expletive-ridden insults are quite something. It’s a shame the “jigsaw” of Mary’s story isn’t solved satisfactorily. Too quickly moving from the people’s saviour into a “blight” ruining their lives, the role is overburdened – and since Mary is the only thing rooted in the play, the overall harvest is poor.

Until 5 August 2017

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Johan Persson

“The Threepenny Opera” at the National Theatre

While the chance to see Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill’s famous work is welcome, regrettably, this production isn’t the finest hour of anyone involved. There’s nothing embarrassing – there are even good bits – but Simon Stephens’ new adaptation lacks charge, while Rufus Norris’ direction of his talented cast is low voltage.

Of course it’s fine to change the original setting (Brecht and Weill used John Gay’s earlier work themselves). Mack the Knife, aka Captain Macheath, the libidinous crook whose adventures we follow, is recast as an East End gangster. Neat enough. But not specifying a time period for this ‘updating’ diminishes its power. The dark reflections on human nature are robbed of satire, falling into a generic gloom that fails to challenge. Stephens’ lyrics are admirably clear, but they can’t shock – no matter how many expletives are crammed in – as it feels those involved would like them to.

The Brechtian staging of the work is tokenistic. There are knowing gags, including Keystone coppery and Buster Keaton, but the production feels lost or, more specifically, better suited to a smaller stage. Regular visitors to the National Theatre will know how powerful the Olivier can be – even empty – but here, Vicki Mortimer’s set of stairs and paper screens feels both slim and cumbersome. And there are a lot of signs to read – tricky from the circle. Impressive moments of staging have to be ascribed to Paule Constable’s lighting.

Haydn Gwynne and Nick Holder
Haydn Gwynne and Nick Holder

The biggest disappointment here is the cast. There are good performances when you’d expect great ones. Rory Kinnear takes the lead, his singing voice a pleasant surprise, but even his brilliant acting can’t hold things together. The excellent Rosalie Craig, as his young bride Polly, fails to bring her normal shine (maybe the interpretation of the role as an accountant hampers too much), while Sharon Small, as one of Mack’s many former lovers, sounds painful. The show belongs to the Peachums, Macheath’s enemies, played by Nick Holder and Haydn Gwynne. With this malicious Mr and Mrs, exaggerations in the piece pay off. Elsewhere, this Threepenny Opera feels deflated.

Until 1 October 2016

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Richard Hubert Smith

“Danton’s Death” at the National Theatre

As anyone who has attempted Hilary Mantel’s supernovel on the theme will know, revolutionary France seems to have been a fairly confusing place. All those factions and ideologies and decapitations make our current coalition government look dull. And they can be hard to follow. Fortunately, Howard Brenton’s new version of Büchner’s classic, Danton’s Death, cuts to the chase and is light on history and politics.

It is Danton the philosopher that we meet at the National Theatre. His meditations on mortality and fame just happen to have political turmoil as a background. Unfortunately, thinking and politics don’t mix well for him.

Toby Stephens plays Danton. He shouts against corruption superbly but excels when showing the mania of his complex character. Charges of libertinism seem well founded but he is so full of life and charisma that he is appealing. Stephens is magnetic whether on the soapbox, in the bedroom or in prison with his friends.

It is clear we should be following him. Anyway, the opposition are a tiresome lot. Elliot Levey’s Robespierre is a sibilant schoolboy who holds your interest but is hardly terrifying. His followers do far too much arm waving to rise above pantomime.

More disappointing than our hero’s enemies is his wife. Danton’s philandering doesn’t seem to have disturbed Madame at all. I am not sure what would fluster her, as Kirsty Bushell’s performance is so understated as to be soporific. She might be annoyed at the mess he’s going to make of his collar, but that’s about it.

Thankfully the spotlight is on Danton most of the time. And what a spotlight it is – Paule Constable’s lighting for the production is stunning, working perfectly with Christopher Oram’s cliché-free set and aiding director Michael Grandage’s clear, fast-paced production.

Danton’s death comes quickly and the props department’s stunning guillotine is truly convincing. I panicked for a moment, thinking Toby Stephens had been sacrificed for the sake of his art. That would have been a tragedy indeed – this production can’t afford to lose him.

Until 14 October 2010

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Johan Persson

Written 2 August 2010 for The London Magazine