Tag Archives: Richard Cant

Uncategorised

“What It Means” at Wilton’s Music Hall

James Corley’s new play brings a famous essay, a piece with a revered place in the Gay Liberation movement, to the stage with intelligence and style. We get the text and also the story of Merle Miller’s 1971 article for the New York Times, entitled ‘What it means to be a homosexual’. Corley has Miller present the prose while taking the audience behind the scenes.

The biographical route makes sense. Not only was the essay personal but focusing on Merle – the man – makes the evening moving and funny. We learn that his coming out was slow and painful but, also, what a wit Miller was. And the strategy leads to an incredible performance from Richard Cant, who moves from raw emotion to dry observation and makes the show worth seeing for his performance alone.

The adaptation is full of interest, energetically directed by Harry Mackrill. Presenting to the audience sometimes confrontationally, the convivial tone has surprising tension as the action flits across time in a brilliant fashion. Showing the impact of painful moments in Merle’s past might seem a touch contemporary. But how his closeted status pervaded every aspect of his life is deeply moving.

A final section is the play’s finest… It’s a surprise to find that What It Means is not a one-man show.

Richard Cant and Cayvan Coates in 'What It Means' at Wilton's Music Hall
Richard Cant and Cayvan Coates

The appearance of Cayvan Coates, in a small role as a troubled youth, is inspired by one of the many letters that the article provoked. Coates makes an entrance via the audience so that, although the character is from Miller’s own day, the connection feels immediate. The character needs help and he needs it now.

Miller is aware he had no role models – no representation, as they say nowadays. But doesn’t the play itself provide just that? Like its source material, What It Means becomes a kind of activism. Having Miller still serve as an inspiration is a fine way to celebrate his legacy, and it is a neat move that makes the play is a fitting tribute. 

Until 28 October 2023

www.wiltons.org.uk

Photos by Danny Kaan

Uncategorised

“Handbagged” at the Kiln Theatre

It feels odd to watch not one but two versions of Queen Elizabeth on stage so soon after her death. A respectful minute’s silence before last night’s show, lead by director Indhu Rubasingham, indicates careful thought has gone into letting Moira Buffini’s five star play go ahead.  But for all the fun in this hilarious piece, which cheekily imagines the Queen’s private meetings with her Prime Minister Mrs. Thatcher, her Majesty comes off very well.

That public statements were not allowed to our constitutional monarch means Buffini can make the Queen a contrast to the Prime Minister. Turns out the richest woman in the world had a lot of concerns about social inequality. And her passion for the Commonwealth gives a global perspective in contrast to Thatcher’s little Britain. But there’s also tenderness in Buffini’s writing about the Queen – she’s presented as a fun, witty woman and a caring mother.

All the Queen’s admirable qualities are conveyed by the actors taking on what must be a particularly challenging role right now. Both Abigail Cruttenden and Marion Bailey, as younger and older versions respectively, give strong performances and make a lot of the lines even funnier than they already are; you could happily spend the night watching Bailey’s every expert move.

Buffini is harder on Thatcher. The role is written with more anger and is possibly closer to caricature. The performances from Naomi Frederick and Kate Fahy respond appropriately. Frederick, as the younger version, manages to suggest nervousness about dealing with a figure she reveres that generates a little sympathy. Fahy’s line in dignity, as she looks back on her time at the top, is convincing no matter her views. The scorn with which both women can say the word ‘socialist’ or ‘wet’ is tremendous.

The way all four characters interact as they try to take charge of the story about Britain during the Thatcher years is hilarious. The blend of sarcasm and sincerity is perfect – the quartet of perspectives battle to tell and interpret what happened. The subject of Thatcher’s dementia provides a moving moment and yet another layer of consideration about interpreting the past. Buffini’s script is dazzling and you don’t want to miss a word.

There’s more to Handbagged than some fantastic comedy and strong impersonations – although both of these make the show a must-see. Two more characters join the stage – ‘Actors’ played by Romayne Andrews and Richard Cant who also impress as a variety of famous faces with great lines. The main role of these super supernumeraries is to highlight what putting on a play – and a play about history – entails.

Pointing out what Thatcher and the Queen don’t want to discuss, slowing down the show to their frustration or embarrassment, the ‘Actors’ interjections are often funny and make sure that their characters are satisfyingly full. Attempts at directing these powerful women are brilliant moments, aided by the show’s real director too. Rubasingham directed the first production of the play, almost ten years ago, and her knowledge shines through, brimming with joyous confidence about the strength of what’s on stage: the respectful, you might say faithful, approach to this modern classic seems very much in keeping with our times.

Until 29 October 2022

www.kilntheatre.com

Photo by Tristram Kenton

Uncategorized

“Stella” at Hoxton Hall

The life of Ernest Boulton, the infamous Victorian cross-dressing entertainer, is a fertile source for fiction. Barbara Ewing’s book is recommended and a previous play, Fanny and Stella, made light work of this fascinating history. Neil Bartlett’s new piece is a more serious affair, deftly plumbing issues of gender identity and politics with sensitivity and intelligence.

Bartlett describes his play as a ‘one-man-show for two bodies’. Such succinctness is a boon for me as describing this bold and rich work isn’t easy. Following what’s going on is fine (read the free programme for the biography) but, while the older Ernest talks about the past and present, the younger version dresses for a night out as Stella and contemplates the future. It’s a deliberately fluid affair. Add direct addresses to the audience along with the characters advising one another and you have to have your wits about you.
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
To play directly alongside another performer who has the same role, just at a different age, must make the job peculiar for a performer. There are two brilliant actors here: Richard Cant and Oscar Batterham are remarkable for their focus and synchronicity. In attendance is a third, silent figure, played by David Carr, who serves (to my somewhat literal mind) as a memento mori: helping with make-up or aiding the frail Boulton awaiting a hospital appointment.

The piece’s construction demands further study. Scripts of plays Stella performed in are used. Interviews were conducted with transpersons today and some of these “found their way into Stella’s mouth”. The aim is to show a character on his/her own terms. Boulton’s potential as a pioneering transperson isn’t essential – it’s transformation per se that is the focus.

The various roles that Boulton enacted, literally on stage or as a sex worker, for example, enforce the theme of fluidity. As such, Bartlett’s play is radically political, his independent thinking inspirational. Yet the overriding theme is when the writing really takes off and we see Stella as a meditation on life and death. With its reflections on the passing of time, and how this transforms us all, this play is full of good, old-fashioned wisdom.

Until 18 June 2016

Part of the LIFT Festival 2016

Production photograph by Dom Agius. Artwork ©Fred Spalding, reproduced by courtesy of Essex Record Office

Uncategorized

“Medea” at the Almeida Theatre

We all know Medea’s biography – a sorceress who kills her kids when her husband leaves her – but it might help also to know more about the writer of the Almeida’s new version, Rachel Cusk. The prize-winning author of controversial novels about motherhood and marital breakdown has created a fiercely modern adaptation – the most radical of the theatre’s acclaimed Greek season.

Euripides’ play is a starting point (an altered conclusion tells us that much), inviting us to examine the topic of women and injustice. Cusk’s Medea is a writer, a magician with words, whose talent provides her chance for revenge. But the odds are against our heroine, as made clear by her former husband Jason (Justin Salinger) and Andy de la Tour as Creon, father of the younger woman she’s been deserted for.

Other women don’t help either. Amanda Boxer plays her mother, full of insulting criticism, while Michele Austin, as Medea’s cleaner, is relentlessly negative. The chorus consists of yummy mummies, obsessed with their husbands’ careers and trivial gossip. It’s close to the bone in Islington, an easy target, and I didn’t find them all that convincing. It can’t be that bad at the school gates, can it?

The arrival of a messenger from the gods is incongruous. Presented as both male and female, it’s an idea not even the excellent Charlotte Randle in the role can make effective, and a stumble in Rupert Goold’s sure-footed direction. But at least the messenger provides a welcome break by speaking in verse. Cusk’s theatrical dialogue is unusual. There are few conversations here: Medea talks to her friend Aegeus (Richard Cant) striking a deal over revenge, but she confronts Jason over the phone, while others just lecture her and the chorus’ conversations are deliberately one sided. The play has people pontificating rather than communicating and, at times, is tiring.

Kate Fleetwood in the title role is really the highlight of the show. Her Medea is truly scary – when she picks up a knife, the air crackles – but she is even better when controlling that tension. Forcefully intelligent, which adds credibility, her revenge will be… different. Best of all is Fleetwood’s ability to convey the physical pain of the character, clutching her stomach and clenching her hands. At its most effective, this is a close-up portrayal of rejection, masterfully conveyed.

Until 14 November 2015

www.almeida.co.uk

Photo by Paul Thompson

Uncategorized

“My Night With Reg” at the Donmar Warehouse

Leave a comment

The Donmar Warehouse’s revival of Kevin Elyot’s 1994 play, My Night With Reg, opened this week. With strong direction from Robert Hastie and a superb cast, the production serves as a fitting tribute to the recently deceased author of this sensitive and sensationally funny play.

As a group of gay friends meet over the years, first in celebration then in the wake of the devastating AIDS crisis, their promiscuous lives are observed in a quietly profound and structured way. Questions of love, life and death come to the fore in a play about the passage of time and the importance of truth.

This should be a grim night out. Even the weather, in each of the three scenes, is the perpetually wet English summer. Yet Elyot’s triumph is to make My Night With Reg so funny. With a nod to classic farce and plenty of blue jokes, the laughs come thick and fast. Underneath the wickedly funny crudity, there’s great skill: switching between comedy and tears with the speed of a lightning flash.

Geoffrey Streatfeild (Daniel) and Lewis Reeves (Eric) in My Night With Reg. Photo by Johan Persson.
Geoffrey Streatfeild and Lewis Reeves

The characters are finely drawn and the acting lives up to Elyot’s writing. The plot pivots around the never seen Reg – the lover of so many – but our perspective comes from the floppy-haired, ever cautious Guy, made so endearing by Jonathan Broadbent that he becomes a real hero. Guy’s university friends are appropriately irresistible, played by Julian Ovenden and Geoffrey Streatfeild with both charisma and convincing depth. There are also talented turns by Matt Bardock and Richard Cant, while Lewis Reeves as Eric, the youngest character, gives another strong performance, bringing intergenerational insight to events.

As the play’s first major revival, the big question is, inevitably, how well it has aged. Despite being very much rooted in its times, addressing a specific community that has changed a great deal in the past 20 years, it’s a pleasant surprise to see how fresh My Night With Reg feels. Unrequited love is a universal theme, after all, and Elyot explores deep emotions in an appealingly uncensorious way. Best of all, the humour, while too blunt to describe as sparkling, still shines.

Until 27 September 2014

www.donmarwarehouse.com

Photos by Johan Persson

Written 6 August 2014 for The London Magazine