Tag Archives: Wallis Currie-Wood

2026

“Our American Queen” at the Bridewell Theatre

This sophisticated historical drama by Thomas Klingenstein examines Kate Chase, daughter of a presidential wannabe hoping to depose Lincoln during the American Civil War. The history is fascinating and the view of politics as “the art of ‘it depends’” insightful. The show balances romance and political ambitions well, showing how they connect without too much judgement. You might want more or less of the love stories, but the script, and direction from Christopher McElroen, are both admirably controlled.

The Chases, father and daughter, are great roles for Darrell Brockis and Wallis Currie-Wood. Both performers generate sympathy for characters who aren’t particularly likeable, taking the audience on a detailed and enjoyable emotional journey. It is easy to view Kate as “regal but cold”, yet Currie-Wood shows a lot of repressed emotion and gives the character’s self-sacrifice a certain dignity. Brockis has a good line in gravitas, too. I spent a lot of the play admiring this Secretary to the Treasury, persuaded by his humour and humility. But he is also ruthless figure. How much Kate becomes an “indispensable nag” to her father for his own sake, to progress his career, becomes an increasingly open question. And how much she is allowed to make this sacrifice adds further debate. Father and daughter have a lot to work out – if Klingenstein veers a little close to a therapy session at times, their relationship is always layered, intriguing and well performed.

Supporting roles are slightly less successful. Christy Meyer and Haydn Hoskins both do well as Mrs Eastman and General McClellan. But they are too obviously foils for the main characters and don’t convince as romantic interests for father and daughter. That’s partly deliberate – neither couple gets together. Kate’s heart is taken not by the General (an old flame) or her off-stage fiancé, but by Lincoln’s secretary John Hay, admirably performed by Tom Victor. Hay is a poet, and the love of literature he shares with Kate is the sweet basis of their relationship (Klingenstein gets a lot of mileage out of Whitman and Dickens – discussions of Great Expectations are a nice touch until they become laboured.) The wish for a happy ending works well, though, and is touching and thought provoking.

Although the piece is a static affair, the staging is strong. A video screen is made good use of, and McElroen does a great job injecting tension into staging a dinner party. The event is part of Kate’s strategy for her father’s campaign and leads to a fine theatrical moment – a great surprise – when tension explodes. A piece so wordy and cerebral isn’t to all tastes but Our American Queen is a quality affair: an interesting take on Great Men in history providing a valuable perspective with a clear intelligence. Does Kate get her happy ending? Well, it’s a truism that political careers always end in failure. But Klingenstein and Currie-Wood did raise my hopes, and that’s an achievement.

Until 7 February 2026

www.sbf.org.uk

Photo by Lidia Crisafulli

2025

“Elektra” at the Duke of York’s Theatre

Having a star in your show (and the ticket sales they bring) might, understandably, give a production confidence. This new version of Sophocles’ play has chutzpah – let’s give it that. But a lot the bravado is superficial, and I fear its celebrity casting – in this case Brie Larson – doesn’t come out as well as she deserves to.

The driving force for the production, and by far the best part of it, is the chorus. This sextet (Hannah Bristow, Wallis Currie-Wood, Jo Goldsmith-Eteson, Nardia Ruth, Rebecca Thorn and Adeola Yemitan) are present all the time, both narrating and responding to the action. They sing throughout, and Ted Hearne’s compositions are superb. Anne Carson’s script is strongest in the lyrics. And, importantly, the songs are good deal clearer than when the performers speak.

Elektra-credit-Helen-Murray

If the chorus brings the audience, other onlookers, close to events, it is worth remembering that there is a big world full of powerful people in this play. Carson fails to explain this, removing the action so far from its context, without providing an alternative, that it causes confusion. Most of the performers suffer: Stockard Channing plays mummy Clytemnestra, Marième Diouf and Patrick Vaill are Elektra’s siblings, and there’s a brief but powerful turn from the excellent Gregg Hicks. They all seem a little lost – and that’s an awful lot of talent to waste.

To add to the injury, the performers are put through the mill by director Daniel Fish. The stage revolves. The costumes are ungainly. There are a lot of microphones and a blinding light. And everyone is sprayed with some black fluid upon entrance. The atmosphere is one of experimentation. But these are experiments most will have seen before. To be fair, Fish uses all of the huge space (there’s a lot of dry ice). And while I hope Larsen is enjoying the experience, when it comes to her role, no one suffers more than her.

This isn’t a one woman show. The chorus is too strong for that and Larsen is a generous performer. But the focus is too much on the titular character which, ironically, makes Elektra weaker. Placing her in some kind of performance art space with touches of a spoken word open-mic night doesn’t just date the production, it diminishes her rebellion. Take Elektra’s singing: she sings the word ‘no’ (and Elektra says ‘no’ a lot). The point of it, as with many of the production’s bizarre movements, is a puzzle and it should be obvious that it will tire quickly. But it also means that Electra’s “destroying tongue” – her power – does not convince. And that is a tragedy.

Until 12 April 2025

www.elektraplay.com

Photos by Helen Murray