Tag Archives: Royal Court

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“Cyprus Avenue” from the Royal Court

While it’s difficult to define a work as deep as David Ireland’s 2017 play, currently being shown on YouTube with a request for donations, it’s easy to say that this thought-provoking comedy horror is something everyone should see.

It’s framed around the clinical treatment of Eric, a dour and obsessive Northern Irish protestant whose psychosis is at first amusing – he believes his grand-daughter is IRA politician Gerry Adams! Up until what Eric has done becomes clear, the play is full of belly laughs. Stephen Rea makes a masterclass of this starring role, with a magnificent, deadpan delivery.

Cyprus Avenue from the Royal Court photos by Ros Kavangh
Stephen Rea and Ronkẹ Adékoluẹjo

Following the play’s descent into darkness, Eric is accompanied in his treatment by two very different kinds of therapists… one of whom isn’t even real. First up, Ronkẹ Adékoluẹjo makes a calm and clear psychologist convincing – it’s a performance that grounds the play. Then comes Chris Corrigan, also superb, who plays a gun-toting paramilitary-turned-mindfulness guru – and film critic – whose role shows how mad things are becoming.

Cyprus Avenue from The Royal Court Photo Ros Kavanagh
Stephen Rea and Chris Corrigan

Plays don’t get much funnier than Cyprus Avenue, especially not when they deal with murder, mental illness and racism. But theatre also doesn’t get much more disturbing. Be prepared, as the final scenes are grotesque, shocking and traumatic.

What the jokes and drama have in common is Ireland’s intelligence and sense of purpose. Examining both sectarianism and racism, and the way prejudice links the two, brings up big questions in a challenging manner. The play is preoccupied with time – past, present and future – to show how each has a distinct impact on self-identity. And Ireland has a firm handle on how disturbing the disturbed can be. Eric’s breakdown devastates his family long before he physically hurts them – a fact carefully acknowledged in the moving performances from Andrea Irvine and Amy Molly as, respectively, his wife and daughter.

That the final scenes are so awful, with Rea transformed into a terrifying figure, confirms director Vicky Featherstone’s bold vision for the piece. Yes, the mood changes dramatically. But this comes with an insidious, sinking feeling that builds carefully. Eric’s crazed logic brings about a brutality that is impossible to predict in its extremity. Yet the idea that such consequences follow his demented reasoning, arguments we’ve been laughing at so hard, provides a powerful point to end on.

Available until the 26 April 2020 from https://royalcourttheatre.com/whats-on/cyprus-avenue-film/

Photos by Ros Kavanagh

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“A Kind of People” at the Royal Court

Set around a group of former school friends, this stimulating new play has a tender romance at its core. Intelligently written by Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti and confidently directed by Michael Buffong, the piece is a slice-of-life polemic of considerable dramatic power.

A long-devoted couple, Gary and Nicky, are working-class heroes the like of which are still too seldom seen on stage. Their struggles highlight issues around race and class in contemporary urban Britain. The toll taken by prejudice has a profound personal impact on the lovers and the questions raised are important.

Amy Morgan in "A Kind of People" at the Royal Court
Amy Morgan

You might argue that Gary’s objectionable white boss, Victoria, whom Bhatti uses as her starting point for looking at racism, is too much of a straw figure. Not because people don’t hold such views – or that Amy Morgan is at all lacking in the role – it’s just that most people hide their prejudice better. But, following scenes that ignite the audience against Victoria, there’s the suggestion that, when accused of racism, the character uses her sex as a defence: a bold move by Bhatti that makes the atmosphere in the theatre electric. 

Manjinder Virk in "A Kind of People" at the Royal Court
Manjinder Virk

It’s clear how smart – and provocative – this writing is. A second incident of prejudice comes from a Muslim mouth. Focusing on class, taking in the metropolitan obsession about schools, it is Anjum, a likeable Muslim mother, who uses that loaded phrase “people like you” against her white friend Nicky. The moment is made all the more shocking by the fact that this is a character, with a performance expertly crafted by Manjinder Virk, who has made us laugh and whom we admire.

Petra Letang in "A Kind of People" at the Royal Court
Petra Letang

Although each of the wonderfully observed characters we meet provides a take on race or class, Bhatti’s skill makes sure none of them feels like a device from a playwright. There is considerable nuance in A Kind of People, and it reflects complex lives and problems. There are strong performances too from Thomas Coombes, Asif Kahn and especially Petra Letang, whose character Karen injects a fantastic no-nonsense humour. But the play belongs to its central roles, which are developed superbly. Gary has a troubled emotional journey, becoming a man “drowning in anger”, plotted by Richie Campbell with impressive understatement. Claire-Louise Cordwell’s depiction of Nicky follows a different trajectory – she is a rock that crumbles with frightening suddenness in a performance that does justice to the blunt force contained within this sophisticated play.

Until 18 January 2020

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photos by Manuel Harlan

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“The End of History” at the Royal Court

Jack Thorne’s new play is a somewhat traditional affair, and far less tricky than many seen at this venue. But the Royal Court embraces all kinds of writing and, while this family drama may seem superficially simple (low stakes, even), it’s a piece of great skill that raises interesting questions and leads to fantastic performances.

The play’s focus is Sal, a left-wing school teacher who talks too much but always means well. Thorne has created an idealised figure – for all her oversharing and eccentricity it’s surely impossible not to like her. And taking what must be a dream role, the always excellent Lesley Sharp delivers every line to perfection. With the help of John Tiffany’s direction, her scenes become very funny indeed. I don’t know who, if anyone, Sharp and Thorne had in mind when working on Sal, but the character and depiction is one of great tenderness and humanity.

Sal’s husband David is just as much the firebrand, but with a crueller edge that David Morrissey handles impeccably. He’s a mix of anger and frustration, ever keen to lecture, which creates surprising tension. All the cast impresses as the play’s three acts cover three decades, but Morrissey shows us his character ageing in a profound and moving manner. And the passage of time is a triumph for Tiffany, too, as choreographed scenes between acts highlight the mundanities of family life and emotions are glimpsed as the years pass by on a calendar.

Kate O’Flynn, Sam Swainsbury and Laurie Davidson

As for the couple’s children, each character and performance is wonderfully detailed. Kate O’Flynn, Sam Swainsbury and Laurie Davidson show the nuances of their characters at different ages and the complexities of sibling rivalry. The one person who marries into the family makes a final great role for Zoe Boyle, who segues from an embarrassed guest meeting her in-laws for the first time to becoming thoroughly sick of them all. It’s notable how vulnerable all the younger characters are, arguably, in some cases, a little catastrophising. But their problems convince as well as providing plenty of laughs along the way.

Zoe Boyle

The End of History isn’t all funny. Each act contains a dramatic bombshell delivered with a deceptively light touch. In its structure and intelligence, the piece is reminiscent of David Hare’s Amy’s View, carefully refocused and with Thorne’s distinctive sense of humour. Convictions here are often a source of fun – from awkwardness to incredulity – but they are also ideas put into practice. Socialists like these are literally a dying breed, hence the title reference to Francis Fukuyama’s book. And their extreme ideas about inherited wealth may say more about our society than their logic – it certainly shocked some of my fellow theatregoers. Presenting Sal and David as figures from the past, with a fragile legacy, leads to a melancholy finale. But getting to know both, which Thorne allows us to do with such skill, gives this understated play its power.

Until 10 August 2019

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photos by to Johan Persson

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“White Pearl” at the Royal Court

Anchuli Felicia King’s play has opened in Sloane Square while two more productions of it – in American and Australia – are being worked on. That the show is a global affair is appropriate to its themes. Set in the melting pot of corporate Singapore, with a multi-ethnic cast, it reflects worldwide concerns about global capitalism and social media through the prism of racism. Surprisingly, it’s a great deal of fun.

The content is serious. When a grossly misjudged advertising campaign for a skin-whitening cosmetic is leaked on to YouTube and, predictably, goes viral it is racism in the office of the manufacturer that is exposed. The ad was supposed to be funny, but the workplace and the online world become split around those who find it so. It’s the startup corporate culture, which sets about “selling whiteness” without a shrug, that really fascinates. Racism comes into conflict with the aims of a “global community” to create a better future for our shrinking world.

The women from different Asian counties – with their degrees of Westernisation to the fore – make a frequently hilarious case study that proves bravely risqué. Insults fly and they don’t all have wit as an ingredient. It’s pretty clear it only gets funnier the more you know about each culture in question. There are gasps and cringes that Nana Dakin’s direction maximises and the show speeds along nicely.

Farzana Dua Elahe

The cast is uniformly strong. The UCL-educated Priya, brilliantly portrayed by Farzana Dua Elahe, who reaches “epic-level heartless”, alongside the California-inspired Built, who Kae Alexander makes so vivid, are pitted against the “homeland” Asians. Minhee Yeo plays the company’s South Korean chemist, Soo-Jin, with shrewd efficiency and Kanako Nakano makes the diffident Japanese office manager appealing. Meanwhile, Momo Yeung ensures her character Xiao Chen’s too-slim subplot about Chinese human rights works well.

Arty Froushan

With a country resting on each role and sharp satire in mind, avoiding stereotypes – King’s stated aim – is intractable. Nonetheless each character is developed to a decent degree, even if the majority lack self-awareness. There’s no holding back with Built’s ex-boyfriend, though – a sponging French lothario that makes a fabulous role for Arty Froushan, who compares his broken heart to a child dying of leukaemia. He is wickedly funny with every line. What the women have in common is privilege. They’re all super smart and educated with money and connections. Having this elite as targets makes any schadenfreude extra delicious – most will see them as fair, if easy, game.

White Pearl does not contain the “twists and reveals” that it boasts. In truth, the story is thin (the plot around a second video and fraud are sloppy). And ironically, as King expresses valid concerns so common around the world, little in the play feels new. Rather, this is a piece full of sharp comedy observation and incredible details. King’s ear for accents is obsessive; Katie Leung’s performance as the only local woman, who slips between “dudebro-speak”, Singlish and Hokkien, is phenomenal – and funny.

The big questions raised are about humour, which is often said to be the hardest thing to translate and frequently a source of cruelty. King highlights this in a brilliantly performed scene with Priya laughing hysterically at Xiao who can’t stop crying. The jokes provide the play’s most challenging and original moments. What’s funny is the take-home question. It’s posed as a threat. But also, perhaps, a possibility. Jokes cause a pause in, or at least question, the globalisation we see in the play. And an interesting idea arises that humour could save us from homogeneity.

Until 15 June 2019

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photos by Helen Murray

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“The Cane” at the Royal Court

Mark Ravenhill’s new play uses education to examine politics between the generations and the sexes. Cultural pressure points, easily recognised, signal an author with his finger on the pulse, while intelligence and care call out hypocrisy on either side of a divide between ages and genders. The simple scenario has a teacher, about to retire, literally under siege by a violent mob of school children who discover that, once upon a time, he executed corporal punishment.

Fairy tales play a part; the language of the play is often comedically plain, reactions to extremes deadpan, and there’s reference to a witch or two. It seems that Edward, a dedicated Deputy Head, and his wife Maureen, are living in a never-never land, full of nonsensical nostalgia that the Daily Mail would be proud to print and everyone else can enjoy mocking. Those millennial snowflakes are a target of course – so far too predictable – with Alun Armstrong and Maggie Stead doing a wonderful job of making outrage believable. Thankfully, Ravenhill knows it’s essential to present another side to the story.

The presence of the couple’s daughter, Anna, estranged as a traitor since she works for an Academy school, shows the play’s strengths. Ravenhill has created a challenging character and Nicola Walker gives a superb performance in the role. She knows what “best practice” consists of,  yet doesn’t believe any of the jargon she is fluent in and her motives prove dark. Anna’s background, her childhood with this odd couple, leads to some extravagances on Ravenhill’s part. Walker juggles the anger her character has inherited with a façade of calm that is captivating.

Vicky Featherstone’s direction suits the play perfectly. But waiting for the headmaster, who has been scared away by scandal, and a trip into the attic, don’t really cut it dramatically. Efforts are made to inject tension, Chloe Lamford’s design tries especially hard, still it’s hard to believe a lot of what little action there is here. Credibility isn’t the point of course, but its lack can prove frustrating; a block to the admirable detail on offer when it comes Edward’s sexism or Anna’s vengefulness. The Cane works better as a set of ideas than it does as a play, but these are clever arguments, well presented and expertly performed.

Until 26 January 2019

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Johan Persson

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“ear for eye” at the Royal Court

What debbie tucker green’s new piece about racism lacks in conventional dramatic terms, it makes up for with intricate, challenging argument. The didacticism here may deter some, although nobody could mistake its passion. It’s a useful skill – and an achievement to write with such heartfelt conviction and remain so satisfyingly articulate.

It helps to be prepared for ear for eye. The event is in three parts, followed by a brief and haunting epilogue. The opening design has art gallery written all over it, with Merle Hensel’s set reminiscent of Antony Gormley’s Blind Light. But don’t worry, as things become clearer. The direction, also by tucker green, is disingenuously sparse, with a rehearsal room vibe – there’s work to be done and this is a team up to the job.

First up is a collection of short scenes: tales of violence and protest that provide some brilliant monologues for Angela Wynter, Michelle Greenidge and Kayla Meikle. It’s pure poetry as we cover generations and criss-cross the Atlantic. The detail is rich, but the stories are without specifics – a quite magical move that is occasionally frustrating. While it increases empathy for the characters, when it comes to some stories and when considering potential differences between the USA and UK, instinct cries out for more facts. But tucker green is insistent.

Cue part two, which has two academics debating a high-school massacre, with a twist (which the audience has to fill in many a blank for) of startling originality. There are superb performances here from Lashana Lynch, who becomes a picture of frustration before our eyes, and Demetri Goritsas as a patronising expert cagily ignoring the question of race. It’s a bit of a shame that tucker green sets up such a straw man with this character, even if he is brilliantly awful – I can’t curl my toes and concentrate at the same time (maybe tucker green has had more practice at this?).

Lashana Lynch

The third part of ear for eye is a film, with tucker green showing yet another set of skills. A cast of Caucasian men, women and children read out historic laws from America and Jamaica that relate to segregation and the treatment of slaves. There’s the novelty of mixing theatre with film in this way, and the triptych display of the film itself, a piece of cinema with a strangely static quality, is chilling even before considering its subject matter. Carefully using another’s words to complete her argument is a bold move for a writer, but it masterfully closes her case.

ear for eye needs patience, as complicated arguments require time. We are taken from body language to legal discourse, from the personal to the political and, while this is dizzyingly expansive, tucker green’s point is surely to show the connection between then and now: how the words on film affect the lives of the characters on stage. Her glorious text is all about tenses, as past, present and future are mixed from one sentence to the next, but it can be disorientating. History is collapsed as our contemporaries recite those awful laws and claim a living legacy for racism that is such an important part of contemporary debate.

Until 24 November 2018

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photos by Stephen Cummiskey

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“Pity” at the Royal Court

Rory Mullarkey is a playwright who explores allegory and fable. It gives his voice standout and makes him easily described as experimental. Self-conscious in telling tales and quick to point out quirks, his skill is clear, and this story of a “completely and utterly archetypal town”, subjected to a series of incredible tragedies, gets some big laughs. It’s the treatment, a mix of the ludicrous and the deadpan, that is the focus and used to examine our compassion. Arguably, this investigation of delivery – the way the story is told – while of keen interest to theatre practitioners is clearly of less appeal to a general audience.

While stripping the scenario back seems to make a distinctly academic point – I am open to suggestions, but the text is so reductive it rules out other options – it is an achievement to stage something so stark. Characterisation and plot are reduced to parody. Mullarkey’s imagination is fecund and his play full of exaggeration, as the mostly nameless characters meet and die in ever more inventive fashion. Bringing the events of an apocalypse-in-a-day to the stage takes real guts.

This is a mixed job from director Sam Pritchard. His tactic seems to be to maximalise. Along with Chloe Lamford’s set and plentiful props, most of which fall from the sky, we have quirky movement direction from Sasha Milavic Davies, and lots of noise and lots of lights. But added together, it all highlights the script’s flaws and makes the show too slow, with too many speeches padded out. Some ideas are good (I liked the brass band and the tanks), but others, like an extended battle between the Reds and the Blues, repeated ad nauseum, are truly terrible.

Pritchard does well with his cast: a committed ensemble who seem to be having fun. Sophia Di Martino and Abraham Popoola take the leads as survivors of events. After overcoming each disaster, they tell each other, “I’m all right”, and they manage to make this tiresome repetition almost effective. And there’s great work from Helena Lymbery as the Prime Minister and Sandy Grierson as the Red Warlord. But all the cast impress. Time and again, they save scenes with charm and bring out Mullarkey’s humour. There’s a lot of bravery here, not least with the play’s hostage-to-fortune title, but no amount of effort or energy manages to make it all worth bothering with.

Until 11 August 2018

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Helen Murray

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“One for Sorrow” at the Royal Court

If you’ve ever used #opendoor in the charitable spirit of helping a stranger, then Cordelia Lynn’s new play presents a challenge. Using the scenario of a terrorist attack, with one middle-class family trying to be of use, Lynn hosts a struggle between generations and exposes tensions in our society with a degree of honesty that’s as uncomfortable and insightful as it is funny.

Emma and Bill are the baby boomers who open their home to John, who is in need of safety for the night. But the invitation to stay is issued by their daughters. And it doesn’t take long for suspicions about John’s backpack to foul the atmosphere. How quickly did you wonder why he wouldn’t take off his coat?

Emma and Bill were idealistic… sorry, are idealistic… but “realistic, too, now”. All that liberal angst and first-world privilege makes these great roles for Sarah Woodward – truly commanding – and Neil Dudgeon, whose emasculation is the stuff of Daily Mail nightmares. Full of fear, then guilt about that fear, they fall over themselves to accommodate, and stand their ground. Lynn mines the couple’s parenting methods with chilling skill.

Their two bundles of joy are Imogen and Chloe, played with aplomb by Pearl Chanda and Kitty Archer, straight from Millennial casting. “We’re not girls, we’re women,” they cry – instantly and in unison. Correct, of course, but parroted? Their naivety comes close to incredible, and Lynn treads a fine line in making them believable. Or perhaps it’s the other way around? Younger audiences might feel that it’s the parents who are caricatures. Wherever your sympathies, lie Lynn plays with them to perfection.

Irfan Shamji
Irfan Shamji

There is a stumble, with the role of the family’s caller, who inspects… but doesn’t bear much inspection himself. Capably performed by Irfan Shamji, it’s clear an effort has been made to make John more than a device, but he is a still too much of a foil (an uncomfortable irony for the noble intentions here). But this is small blip in an outstanding script, and director James Macdonald does a superb job throughout, injecting considerable tension that adds a charge to the comedy.

The delicious satire would be enough to recommend the play, but Lynn has loftier aims. Chanda’s character comes to dominate after the interval, and her performance goes from strength to strength. Ideas take over as One For Sorrow becomes more intense, increasingly bizarre and didactic. The potential relationship between Imogen and John forms a kind of test for cultures. Think A Passage to India with overtones of Adam and Eve! It makes the literal incomprehension between them – magpies come into it and it’s too brilliant to spoil – ultimately bleak. The suggestion that our comfortable homes and lives may be not just vulnerable, but actually the catalyst for danger, is a stretch. But the writing is of such consistent quality that it deserves the utmost respect.

Until 11 August 2018

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Johan Persson