Tag Archives: Theatre Royal Haymarket

“A View from the Bridge” at the Theatre Royal Haymarket

Arthur Miller’s 1955 play is far from his best work. Yet this revival, which comes from Bath, has a strong cast, while director Lindsay Posner succeeds in making the text swift and exciting. If the play has dated badly, it still provokes thought, and excellent performances make the most of the characters.

Miller’s setting is specific and vividly evoked – a community of longshoremen who live and work near Brooklyn Bridge. When two “submarines”, illegal immigrants from Italy, arrive at the Carbone home, the already uncomfortable balance between Eddie, his wife Beatrice, and niece, Catherine, results in tragedy.

There are plenty of ‘themes’ in A View from the Bridge. Many feel topical. There’s immigration, of course, where Miller explores how sympathy for those arriving from a poverty-stricken continent comes with conditions. And a contemporary audience will note Eddie’s toxic masculinity and the domestic violence in the play. Posner handles the tension well: Beatrice and Catherine suffer psychologically, and Kate Fleetwood and Nia Towle are terrific in these roles.

A-View-From-The-Bridge-Pierro-Niel-and-Callum-Scott-Howells-credit-Johan-Persson
Pierro Niel-Mee and Callum Scott Howells

Catherine’s affair with newly arrived Rodolfo isn’t written as well – it seems included to reveal Eddie’s inappropriate obsession with the orphan girl he has raised. While Callum Scott Howells brings a strange glamour to the role of Rodolfo (you can imagine a young girl falling for the character he skilfully creates), Towle seems wasted in her part. Similarly, Rodolfo’s brother, capably performed by Pierro Niel-Mee, has little to do. In short, characters are only foils to Eddie.

“Blue in his mind”

Given the play’s focus, having a star like Dominic West as top billing is essential. West is truly commanding, so imposing that his hold over his family convinces. And he brings an affability to the role that makes Eddie occasionally, appealing. But there is a problem with humour, at least for some audience members, when it comes to Eddie’s homophobia. A conviction that Rodolfo isn’t “right” shouldn’t be something to laugh at. From Eddie’s perspective, it’s a genuine concern, even if he is using it as an excuse to hide his jealousy. There’s no doubting Eddie’s anger (West is excellent here), but, overall, torment is underplayed – it should be bigger than his unrequited lust. Catherine’s observation that Eddie is “blue in his mind” could be made more of.

It’s hard to have sympathy for Eddie. West is good at making him creepy, but the production might have more nuance and offer something fresh if his mental health was given more time. Still, even without it, the play is sometimes slow. A pivotal moment, when Eddie betrays the Italians, illustrates how drawn out it can be. And the role of a lawyer, a kind of narrator, played by expertly by Martin Marquez, is downright cumbersome. All the performances here are strong enough not to need so much pointed out to us. The cast is the reason to see this show.

Until 3 August 2024

www.trh.co.uk

Photo by Johan Persson

“The Picture of Dorian Gray” at the Theatre Royal Haymarket

Kip Williams’ adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s novel is unquestionably accomplished. Its sole performer Sarah Snook – yes, she takes all the roles – deserves ovations. And technically the production itself is just as impressive. Best of all, the actor and the tech work together. It’s easy to get excited about it all.

Snook is not alone… in two senses. First, she is acting with herself. She starts off slow, adopting different personas for the aesthete Lord Wotton, the painter Basil Hallward and his subject, Dorian. It’s clear Snook has each character well developed. All the while, she is filmed live and projected on to big screens. It’s well done, but we’ve seen it before.

Then Snook starts to perform with recordings of herself. The different characters appear on the screens. And the screens start to move. There’s a huge team behind this – 14 take a bow – not only filming but dressing and moving scenery around (Marg Horwell’s design is great). There’s a danger of distraction as the crew is so fascinating. And, at the risk of sounding old and grumpy, you do end up spending a lot of time looking at screens.

Yet nothing can detract from Snook’s achievement. Solo shows of this kind (such as Andrew Scott’s amazing Vanya from last year) often astound. There’s a sense of wonder that the actor can keep up with it all. And it’s worth noting that, while Williams’ adaptation helps to make the action clear, the show is… louder than Scott’s efforts. There are some odd musical choices and lots of overemphasis. But there’s no doubt it’s a brave performance. Having her face close-up on massive screens shows that Snook, unlike Dorian, has no vanity, and she finds the raw emotion behind Wilde’s elegance.

Is it churlish to want any more from a night at the theatre? Williams has brought the page to the stage with novelty and made it modern. The use of filters and selfies is brilliant (although, surely, not as low-fi as it pretends – video designer David Bergman deserves much acclaim). It’s easy to see current narcissism in Dorian. That point is well made, and it’s a shame it isn’t explored in greater depth.

Going easy on the philosophy and embracing the exaggerations of the novel, the production is often funny. And it’s dynamic – there’s even a chase scene added with the kind of drone footage Netflix likes. But it is no surprise that there’s melodrama in a morality tale from 1890. In the end, despite plenty to admire, it is hard to find much in the way of interpretation. The show feels like an exercise: entertaining, but a lot of effort for relatively little insight.

Until 11 May 2024

www.doriangrayplay.com

Photo by Marc Brenner

“Heathers – The Musical” at the Theatre Royal Haymarket

Like the 1989 film on which it is based, Kevin Murphy and Laurence O’Keefe’s musical aims for cult status. Given a brief West End run that is well worth catching, the show can make a claim for that status: the production, directed by Andy Fickman, keeps popping up and fans are as enthusiastic as the energetic performances on offer. 

Heathers has its quirks – not all of them work – but there’s a striving for originality that is admirable. The show enjoys a twisted sensibility that, in truth, has limited shock value. And you can question how the topics of teenage suicide and mass killing are handled. What, no trigger warning? Nonetheless, the show is well above average.

Twists on high-school dramas are as predictable as high-school dramas themselves. But the titular characters here, popular girls who share the same first name, are impressively repulsive. Led by Jodie Steele, who makes her role fool-proof with its brashness, the trio are fun. Our actual heroes are the real psychopaths, with roles that aren’t much more convincing, even if Christina Bennington and Jordan Luke Gage give their very best.

The music is good. This is a fine collection of rock/pop songs on the right side of late 1980s pastiche. If there aren’t enough stand-out numbers, collectively the score and lyrics are impressive. And all the numbers demand powerful vocals provided by everyone on stage. It’s rousing stuff, often funny and occasionally original. The choreography, from Gary Lloyd (also associate director), with mirroring moves to show the Heathers’ influence on others, is also strong. The production is almost entertaining enough to ignore what is actually going on.

Lauren Ward Heathers The Musical credit Pamela Raith
Lauren Ward

In common with lots of teen dramas, the adults in the piece are awful (even with the excellent Lauren Ward putting in a star turn as a hippy teacher). It might be better to excise them altogether. And while strong female characters are welcome, might balance help? I think every named male character is either a potential rapist, a closeted homosexual or a serial killer!

Following the movie closely makes the plot cumbersome on stage. Murphy and O’Keefe’s tweaks are good – especially having victims appear as ghosts, not least because we get to see more of Steele – but they only add to a plot that starts to become unwieldy. And we do have to address the very serious subject matter. Not because musicals can’t tackle such subjects, or that humour shouldn’t be used to examine them, but because Heathers doesn’t deal with violence well. In a long show, questions of motive and morality are shoehorned in or glossed over. A too speedy resolution and homespun wisdom tacked on don’t do the subject – or the show – justice.

Until 11 September 2021

www.heathermusical.com

Photos by Pamela Raith

“The Goat, or Who is Sylvia?” at the Theatre Royal Haymarket

This first London revival of Edward Albee’s 2002 play, with Ian Rickson directing a stellar cast, reveals a piece that is riveting and risqué. A superb companion to Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, playing around the corner, it’s also a marital drama with high stakes. Our hero is having an affair… with a goat.

There’s a lot of shock value, cleverly handled. Albee plays with taboos in a fashion that would make younger writers from the ‘In Yer Face’ school proud. The nervous laughter of the audience would be gratifying to him. The language is colourful and its articulate characters – caught in a nightmarish situation – explore all manner of repercussions to the affair.

The cast are superb. Jason Hughes and Archie Madekwe stand as fully formed characters, best friend and son to Martin and Stevie Gray, the couple whose perfect lives didn’t contain a plan about what would happen in the face of zoophilia. It’s a bizarre twist – that’s the point – Albee even describes it as “ludicrous”.

Damian Lewis takes the part of Martin: great as the tortured victim of his obsession and even better when it comes to trying to defend his actions. Sophie Okonedo plays his unfortunate wife, giving a magnetic performance of subtle comic skill. Together they create a believably perfect marriage – think how difficult that is – that roots the show in a painful reality. And the life we see falling apart needs to be convincing: it is important Martin’s obsession is a bolt from the blue.

When the truth is revealed, the objets in the couple’s stylish apartment suffer during an amusingly respectful fighting match (credit to designer Rae Smith here, but also a busy stage management replacing all those broken pots). Martin the “semanticist” tries to pin down what’s going on – to describe facts and feelings. His odd forgetfulness and obsession with grammar are not just for laughs, and Lewis makes them edgy; showing the “pit” of chaos that’s arisen from a chance encounter in a farmyard! With admirable gusto, Rickson orchestrates a swirling mix of trauma, hilarity and shock – making this an awesome experience.

Until 24 June 2017

www.trh.co.uk

Photo by Johan Persson

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s” at the Theatre Royal Haymarket

Richard Greenberg’s adaptation of Truman Capote’s novella wins admiration for resolutely not replicating the famous film onstage. Going back to the original source, there’s a determination to show the dark side of heroine Holly Golightly’s desperate life: prostitution, abuse and depression, described as the “mean reds”. It’s a disorientating experience for an audience if expectations are based on the production poster. Not necessarily a bad thing.

Sitting near me, a fan of singer Pixie Lott, who takes top billing in a font size bigger than the title, seemed puzzled. It can’t have been the thin story, which director Nikolai Foster propels nicely. Maybe it’s the small amount of singing (although what there is impresses). Lott gives a credible performance, tethered by studiously avoiding any trace of the movie’s iconic star, Audrey Hepburn. Here, Holly is blonde, defiant and downright sexy – it really is “Golightly gone” – a total transformation. A fine idea, but consequently we have to wait until two emotional scenes near the end to really glimpse Lott’s considerable acting potential.

Matt
Matt Barber

It’s clear to Lott, although it may be another surprise to some, that Holly isn’t the focus here. It’s Capote’s alter ego, a nameless writer, we are forced to focus on. Played by an exceptionally hard working Matt Barber, who injects a good deal of dynamism, fiercely holding the show together, it all comes down to how interesting you find this one writer’s struggle for success and journey of sexual discovery.

Capote, of course, found himself fascinating. If you don’t share his opinion, despite Foster’s efforts, the story is inconsequential. The show comes close to feeling like breakfast, lunch and dinner at Tiffany’s when just a cup of coffee would have sufficed. And there’s a cat – an astonishingly well-trained one you can follow on Twitter (@TiffanysBobCat). While everyone here is far too good to be upstaged by his feline talents, I’d rather follow him than the author any day.

Greenberg’s work is exemplary in creating the feel of a short story on stage – which is interesting – so the crux is how much Capote you can cope with? The case against? Holly isn’t quite the invention she’s cracked up to be, while secondary characters are weak, with the ensemble reduced to dodgy divertissements (rollerskates? No thank you). If you like your humour waspish with a big dose of self-indulgence, this fine production serves the author better than he deserves.

www.breakfastattiffanys.co.uk

Until 17 September 2016

Photos by Sean Ebsworth Barnes

“Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead” at the Theatre Royal Haymarket

Having to write about a play can spoil watching it. Many a schoolchild has been put off Hamlet, trying to fathom out what happens, conscious they will be examined on it. It’s a relief to find that in Tom Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, the characters are in the same situation; baffled by the unfolding plot and their role in it, their predicament creates a special affinity with the audience.

Tom Stoppard, of course, knows exactly what is going on, in his hands we never feel too scared – just highly entertained. Stoppard’s first masterpiece, from 1965, Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead, doesn’t feel dated in the slightest – its intelligent humour shines forth. Seeing the events in Hamlet unfold via once minor, now major characters, we are introduced to the theme of free will, with speculation on aesthetics, and dazzling verbal badinage.

Stoppard’s dexterous writing is well served in director Trevor Nunn’s superb production. Having missed out on the chance to direct the plays premiere, Nunn relishes the opportunity now. There is an appropriate exuberance in his direction that does him credit.

Arriving from the Chichester Festival the production is already polished. The Players that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern encounter make a convincing ensemble of tatterdemalions. Times are tough for performers, they will “stoop to anything” to entertain, and as their leader Chris Andrew Mellon conquers, hilariously guiding our heroes around the artifice of the world they are trapped in.

In the lead roles, Samuel Barnett and Jamie Parker, the one-time History Boys, are reunited, and this duo needs no lessons in comedy. Parker explains their predicament marvellously: seeking logic and justice in the theatre, fate means they are condemned to “death followed by eternity”, with their roles puzzled over forever more. But Barnett literally runs rings around his colleague, getting every laugh going and showing that Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead is a very lively affair indeed.

Until 20 August 2011

www.trh.co.uk

Photo by Catherine Ashmore

Written 22 June 2011 for The London Magazine