Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford upon Avon, Thursday 25th April 2024
Three men and a King pledge to devote the next three years of their lives to study, abstinence and celibacy. Of course, as soon as the oath is signed, along come four beauties on a diplomatic mission. Each of the men starts writing love notes and poems to one of the beauties, behind his confederates’ backs…
One of Shakespeare’s earliest comedies, it brims with elements he was to refine in later works: letters going astray, loves adopting disguise… Leading the cast is Luke Thompson as prototype Benedick, Berowne, leaving behind the country estates of Bridgerton in favour of a tropical resort hotel that wouldn’t look out of place in White Lotus. Thompson is very good, showing off the character’s wit and, if you can’t keep up, he takes his shirt off a couple of times to keep you interested. Believe me, I’m not complaining.
As his friends and pledge-mates, we have Eric Stroud as Longaville, Brandon Bassir as Dumaine, and Abiola Owokoniran as Ferdinand. There is little, textually, to differentiate these characters and so it’s all done by physical appearance: a skinny one, a short one, and so on. But at least Ferdinand can switch on a regal air when required, to show he’s not just one of the lads.
Similarly with the female four: it’s their physical appearance that distinguishes them. They are led by Melanie-Joyce Bermudez as the Princess (see above note about Ferdinand), Joanna Kimbook as Rosaline, Amy Griffiths as Katherine, and Sarita Gabony as Maria. Of course, the women outsmart the men at every turn to humorous effect, but most of the comedy comes from the exotic Don Armado (Jack Bardoe), a ridiculous figure with a ridiculous accent, and from Nathan Foad’s camp Costard. Tony Gardner adds pomposity and additional verbosity as the boorish Holofernes, and Jordan Metcalfe busies about as a somewhat nerdish Boyet.
Yes, it’s a very ‘witty’ play. Perhaps young Shakespeare was seeking to dazzle his contemporaries with his intricate word play, puns zinging like fireworks. Without Cliff’s Notes, it’s unlikely anyone will get all the puns and references, and so director Emily Burns imbues the production with oodles of physical comedy and comic business. It works: we laugh throughout, enjoying our time at this resort. The cast punctuate Will’s dialogue with present-day asides. Purists may bristle, but let them.
The Nine Worthies presentation, by Costard and other serving staff, is chaotic and hilarious. The heckling from the courtiers is ahead of the similar scene in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and I wonder it Shakespeare is not just parodying masque entertainment but also holding up the bad behaviour of his supposed betters in the audience.
Famously, the play reaches its resolution with the arrival of a new character. Not a deus ex machina in this instance, but rather a spanner in the works. The couples’ courting is interrupted when the Princess receives sad news from home and has to plan her immediate return. This leads to speculation that there’s a sequel, Love’s Labour’s Won, but I don’t think there needs to be. I prefer to speculate that the fledgling playwright was seeking to subvert the genre. Rather than giving the happy rom-com ending we’d all expect, surprise! Guess what! Tragic occurrences can come along and upset your apple cart at any moment. This gives the piece depth. Or perhaps that’s just my take.
(Unfortunately, during this matinee performance someone’s phone started ringing just as the sad news was announced. Well, that happens, and it’s usually no more than a few seconds of annoyance. But this culprit let it ring for at least five minutes, two rows in front of me so I couldn’t reach to strangle them. The ushers were too slow to pounce, and so the powerful, emotional ending was somewhat ruined for me. A surprise ending I didn’t see coming!)
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
View from the Bridgerton: Luke Thompson (shirt-on version)
Bear Pit Theatre, Stratford upon Avon, Wednesday 24th April 2024
Prior to tonight, I had seen three professional productions of this play and loved each one. The pressure is well and truly on then for the Bear Pit company to match if not surpass the high bar set by the likes of the League of Gentlemen, Richard “JohnBoy” Thomas, and even Nigel Havers.
French playwright Yasmina Raza’s masterpiece first appeared thirty years ago and still has the power to amuse and illuminate. Serge, one of three middle-aged friends spends €100,000 on a painting, a 4’ x 5’ canvas painted white. He shows it first to one friend (Marc) who derides it immediately, and then to Yvan, who sits on the fence.
The painting is a trigger for the flaws in the friendship. Niggles, peeves and objections all come out, as the men tear into each other, bickering, kvetching and hurling hurtful insults as only good friends can. Long held resentments cut deep.
The genius of Raza is that she gets the men bang to rights. Their inability to say what they feel, their attempts to intellectualise their emotional responses. It’s a wonderful piece of writing that is well served by Christopher Hampton’s masterly translation.
All three players are in excellent form. Christopher Dobson’s brittle, prissy and waspish Marc; Richard Sandle-Keynes’s excitable and conciliatory Yvan; and Roger Ganner’s sarcastic and reserved Serge. They all give as good as they get and each of them is at ease addressing the audience in sporadic asides.
Sandle-Keynes delivers a show stopping monologue, ranting about wedding invitations, that has to be heard to be believed. Ganner shows that despite Serge’s maturity and aesthetic outlook, he can be as petty and childish as the other two. Dobson has never been better than he is here.
Director Lynda Lewis navigates the dynamics of the trio, keeping the outbursts far from one-note, knowing when to keep things fast-paced and when to give the action time to breathe.
It’s a bitterly funny show with the odd moment that pricks your tear ducts. It’s simply presented on a mainly white set with black details (like the cushions on the sofa) but clearly, relationships are never black and white.
It’s also profound, not just in its depiction of male friendship, where actions work better than words, but also in its affirmation of modern art, which can be so self-referential the lay observer can find it inaccessible. “A man moves across a space and disappears,” Marc at last comes to understand the white canvas, the art of painting, and the human condition all at once.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Roger Ganner, Richard Sandle-Keynes and Christopher Dobson (Photo: Chris J Clarke)
The partnership of Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber created their best work together. Only their second work, Superstar is still rocking out over fifty years on. Controversial when it first appeared, the show deals with the last week of Jesus’s life, mostly from the point of view of Judas (perhaps the most wronged man in history!)
This current production, originating from the Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre, has come indoors, and I wonder if it’s a little cramped. Director Timothy Sheader stages the story as a rock concert, with the principal characters using handheld microphones, picked out by tightly focussed spotlights. It’s a sung-through musical, so why not? Well, it can detract from a sense of place, causing Rice’s lyrics to do all the heavy lifting when it comes to who is saying (singing) what to whom and where. It’s a good job the story is rather well known!
That said, the singing is utterly magnificent. Shem Omari James (Judas) has a voice that pierces and soars, powerfully and emotionally, giving the most impassioned performance of the night. Louise Francis’s Mary the sex worker gets all the sweetest melodies, but I find her phrasing a little too rubato at times. Other standouts are Jad Habchi whose wonderfully deep voice reminds us this is a rock opera, after all, and Matt Bateman’s Annas, the perfect foil for Habchi’s basso profundo. Ryan O’Donnell’s Pilate, Luke Street as Simon, and Timo Tatzber as Herod all get their moments to shine. Herod is the comic relief of the piece; Tatzber brings a sense of danger to this traditionally camp number.
In the title role, Ian McIntosh has an impressive range, even though Jesus isn’t as well-written as Judas. McIntosh delivers both status and humanity – the show emphasises Jesus’s human nature, regardless of any other attributes he may have possessed. Perhaps it’s just me but I prefer my Jesuses long-haired. This one is a bit too clean-cut.
Some of the ideas work brilliantly: the ceremonial staffs of the Jewish priests flip around to become mic stands. A cross-shaped rostrum foreshadows Jesus’s fate but also represents a crossroads on which the characters stand. Events could have taken a different turn had other paths been chosen. A mic drop is emblematic of Judas’s suicide by hanging… Other ideas baffle: the merchants in the temple are carrying illuminated crucifixes for no apparent reason.
Drew McOnie’s choreography brings 1970s moves up to date. The ensemble, more urban than hippie, are angsty and expressive – my one note is there’s perhaps too much of it. They dance and they dance and they dance, making for a very busy stage. We can have too much of a good thing. Perhaps there was more room for it outdoors.
There are moments when the juxtaposition of images and music can be jarring. Simon skips across the stage, singing about being terrorised. When Jesus receives forty lashes, glitter showers everywhere. Thus the violence is glamourised, which might be a comment on how Christians regard the suffering of their martyr – but I don’t want to dwell on such things here. The show is best enjoyed if you don’t regard it as a religious tract. It’s a story of how we build up individuals only to tear them down. We see it in celebrity culture all the time, how the mob (these days, usually on the internet) can turn against someone they once supported and venerated. Secular meaning is still meaning.
Wonderfully sung, with excellent musical accompaniment under the baton of musical director Michael Riley, this is a banquet for the ears, with the occasional treat for the eyes (a nod to Da Vinci’s Last Supper is remarkably realised). Come for the voices, come for the tunes, and you’ll have a great time, but be prepared for a sobering ending that is visually and emotionally powerful.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Forever tainted by silver, Judas regrets his actions. Shem Omari James is pure gold.
When the richest woman in the world returns to her home town to save it from economic ruin, there is more than philanthropy in play. Clara Zachanassian has a cheque book in her purse and a fistful of revenge where her heart should be. She will donate a humongous sum of money on the proviso that someone kills the childhood sweetheart who abandoned her to face pregnancy alone. The man in question is now a respected shopkeeper with a wife and grownup daughter. At first, the Mayor rejects the offer outright but before long everyone is buying things on credit and all of a sudden everyone is toting firearms…
Friedrich Dürrenmatt’s 1950s play is translated from the original German by Øyvind Beg. The adaptation, directed by Sigrid Strøm Reibo, feels very much like an Emma Rice production (and that’s a big compliment, by the way) with its onstage musicians underscoring the action, the heightened playing, the stylisation — even the scaffolding seems familiar.
The music is superbly atmospheric. Composer Synnøve Gustavsen Ovrid also leads the band.
It’s a dark fable and, while entertaining, the style of presentation invites us to think about the quandary, the immoral dilemma at the heart of the story.
As Clara, Jan Sælid (yes, a man!) brings much more to the role than looking like Elon Musk in quick drag. Despite her physical frailties (among them two false legs and a prosthetic hand!) Sælid brings out her strength of character, her power and status, her faded beauty, her pride, her bitterness, her pain, and her cruelty. It’s a powerful performance that rightly dominates proceedings.
Clara arrives in town by rising from the orchestra pit and leaves by sinking back into it. The suggestion is she has come from Hell (not the Norwegian town) to bring this diabolical deal. I am reminded of the vengeful ghost from Don Giovanni come to collect his murderer.
Ola G Furuseth brings a voice of reason as the potential victim, Alfred, keeping his head while all around him are losing theirs. There is a touch of Peter Cushing to this silver fox. Silje Lundblad’s Mayor is a woman under pressure. Lundblad keeps the Mayor’s humanity to the fore but also demonstrates neat comedic stylings, for example at a press conference. Leo Magnus de la Nuez is a skilled physical comedian, making the sounds of and evoking the trains that go by, and later, with his trousers down.
Also good value are Trond Høvik as the doctor and Øystein Roger as the priest. Helene Naustdal Bergsholm goes positively deranged as the teacher. There are gasps in the auditorium when she gets her hands on a knife…
There are absurd elements too, not least the two blind eunuchs, Koby and Loby ( Lasse Lindtner and Eindride Eidsvold) In fact, everyone is in great form, singly and together. The action scenes and comic business are well handled but we never lose sight of the darkness at the heart of the situation. The action builds to a stark and sobering resolution — before a gaudy curtain call of glittering bad taste!
Its an engaging and provocative piece, entertainingly presented. The inevitability of human fallibility mixed with the manipulation of the masses by a sociopathic billionaire is all too pertinent. That is our tragedy.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
Can’t buy me love: Jan Sælid sitting pretty as Clara Zachanassian (Photo: Erika Hebbert)
Emma Rice is one of theatre’s most distinctive directors, with a style of her own she honed during her years with Kneehigh Theatre and now continues to apply to her work with new company Wise Children. All the hallmarks of an Emma Rice production are here: the live music underscoring the action, the use of archetypes, the humour, the original songs, the stylised physicality…
It’s the famous story of the new bride who can’t resist her blue-bearded husband’s forbidden room, in which she discovers the dismembered corpses of his former spouses. Rice concentrates on the women. We convene with some kind of religious order at the Convent of the Three Fs, where the women wear shapeless dresses, cover their heads with woolly beanies, and sport white-framed sunglasses. Their identities are concealed. They are any woman. They are every woman.
A handsome young lad arrives, asking for help. The women set about him like Bacchae until Mother Superior intervenes. This fierce little woman narrates the main story, encouraging the boy to share his as a subplot. His story is of a big sister and a little brother. After a stilted start, he learns to mimic the Mother Superior’s mythic style of storytelling.
It’s a thoroughly absorbing piece: funny, surprising, horrifying and ultimately moving. The Emma Rice style enables the story to breathe, rather than suffocating it. Form and content are perfectly blended.
As Mother Superior, Katy Owen is a fiercely funny MC before the shows blistering final moments. Adam Mirsky is endearing as the Lost Brother, squabbling with Mirabelle Gremaud as his Lost Sister. Gremaud also appears as Blue Beard’s glamorous assistant, performing a most flexible display!
In the title role, Tristan Sturrock is debonair and flamboyant, commanding and seductive. Blue Beard is an accomplished stage magician and the volunteer he slices in half (Robyn Sinclair’s Lucky) becomes his latest wife/victim. Sinclair, along with Stephanie Hockley as sister Trouble, are a lot of fun, their movements punctuated by jazzy dance moves. Their mother, Treasure, a widow, is played with elegance and humour by Patrycja Kujawska – who also plays a mean violin. The cast augment the musicians when not in a scene, with Hockley’s featured number being a definite highlight in a show bristling with splendid songs.
The play covers a lot of ground: why are women attracted to bad men? And domestic abuse. And, crucially, why can’t women walk home alone? The bad men of our world aren’t debonair and dashing, with blue beards as red flags. They aren’t castled psychopaths amassing corpses. They wear ordinary clothes. They are opportunists and narcissists and they are not marked out by brightly coloured facial hair. They could be anyone.
A great deal of fun, an absorbing piece of storytelling that delivers an emotional body blow and an all-too pertinent message, this is Emma Rice back on form. She makes us fall in love with theatre all over again.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Mirabelle Gremaud bending over backwards to please Tristan Sturrock. Photo: Steve Tanner
The Drifters were responsible for some of the timeless classics of the 60s and 70s, but what you may not know is that their line-up changed so much and so often, the recording studio may as well have had a revolving door, with changes of personnel on a scale rivalled only by the Sugababes. Much is made of a comparison with the New York Yankees: the players may change, but there’ll only be one Yankees. This got me thinking about the old philosophical puzzle, the one about the ship of Theseus, every bit of which was replaced over the years, so is it still the same ship?…
With such a fast turnaround, there are too many members of the group to focus on their individual stories. Instead the show centres around Faye Treadwell, their manager, who narrates the story to her daughter, known only as ‘Girl’. I guess we’re not meant to get emotionally involved with her, nor, as it turns out, with anyone else.
The cast of six play all the characters: band members, executives, hotel and bar staff… With the band members, it’s hard to keep track of who’s whom. The smaller roles, like backing dancers, are depicted as crude stereotypes, which adds to the humour of the piece but reinforces the notion that women aren’t meant to be taken seriously.
As Faye Treadwell, Carly Mercedes Dyer is fierce and formidable from the get-go. You wouldn’t want to mess with her. Trouble is, she’s like that all the way through. In the acting parts, her performance is decidedly one note. Which can’t be said for the singing. What a voice! When widowed, Mrs Treadwell belts out a searing number. It’s incredible. But in a musical about a musical group, one wonders why the character with arguably the strongest voice isn’t a recording artist! It would make more sense within the world of the musical, if the performing was restricted to the band members.
The quartet who portray the Drifters contain multitudes. Daniel Haswell, Tarik Frimpong, Ashford Campbell, and Miles Anthony Daley populate the stage with a host of characters, and the singing is never short of impeccable. It’s also delightful to see them in their matching suits doing all the moves. Take That could never.
What lets the piece down is the drama. Or rather the lack of it. Tension never really ignites. Each scene results in damp squib after damp squib.
“Rudy, you’re late for rehearsal.”
“Sorry, it won’t happen again.”
“Oh, Rudy’s dead.”
And
“Oh no, we have to go to court.”
“We won!”
Events are skipped over. We’re never sure what year it is. Even the racism faced by the group on both sides of the Atlantic, although cleverly presented, is shrugged off. The upshot is, despite some snappy dialogue, I don’t engage with the characters. I just want to hear the next song. Luckily, the hits keep coming.
The script only glances at issues that would put meat on the bones of the slender story. The racism. The chauvinism. The misogynoir – especially when only last week, some racist morons chucked their toys from their prams at the casting of a black woman as Juliet in an upcoming West End production.
Beautiful singing, great songs, slick moves, and stylish presentation aren’t enough to keep my attention from drifting. They’d be better off ditching the script and becoming a tribute act.
Crescent Theatre, Birmingham, Saturday 13th April 2024
Written by Frank Vosper in 1936, based on a short story from 1924 by Agatha Christie, this is not so much a whodunit as a who’s-gonna-get-it, as the identity of the murderer is hinted at almost from the start. It’s the story of Cecily who, having won much more than a lucky dip on the lottery, finally believes she can have some independence at last. Which involves pleading with her fiancé Nigel for a postponement of their nuptials. Nigel won’t play ball and their relationship flounders. Along comes Bruce, tall, blond and handsome, to rent Cecily’s London flat, and it’s goodbye to Nigel and ‘I do’ to Bruce. The couple move to a remote country cottage and cracks begin to show… Is the whirlwind romance nothing more than a fling? What is Bruce hiding?
Director Rod Natkiel and voice coach Michael Barry have clearly worked hard to train the cast in RP. They all sound so teddibly posh, it’s like listening to a radio drama from the 30s. Together with Poppy Chalmers’s judicious choices of period furniture (most of it brown), the period is convincingly conjured.
Helena Lima combines determination with vulnerability as heroine Cecily. Her slight stature and elegant manner conceal grit and backbone. Savannah Gallo is so good she could have time-travelled from the past to deliver her spot-on evocation of a post-flapper era young woman about town.
Alex Morey-Wiseman warms into his role as charming chancer Bruce, his obviously dyed barnet and the vagaries of his action clues to Bruce’s true nature. Alexander Pendleton’s Nigel is an intense and volatile chap, so much so we begin to wonder if we’ve backed the wrong horse…
There is strong support from Kaitlyn Elward as rough-and-ready Ethel, the housemaid, and Crescent stalwart Brian Wilson as village doctor Gribble. The production also boasts a couple of jewels of character acting: Julie Lloyd’s snobby Auntie Loulou and Michael Barry’s Hodgson the gardener. These two add most of the comedy to the piece and maintain our enjoyment levels as the slow burning plot lays its clues and sows the seeds for the explosion of tension in its final act.
And there’s the rub. It’s such a slow burner, a couple of times I think the fuse has gone out. It’s beautifully played and presented but the story is not meaty enough to fill the running time. Yes, Christie surprises us with plot twists, revealing darker aspects of the human psyche. Even seemingly respectable upper middle-class people have their dark sides. The original short story is neat and clever, winding its tension tautly. Vosper fleshes out the action to fill the running time, and its clearly spread too thin. How do you cut something so intricately constructed? Which pieces of the jigsaw puzzle do you take away without ruining the finished picture? I suppose in this day and age we’re simply more accustomed to thrillers that rattle along at a faster pace.
The gorgeous production values of the Crescent and the superb playing of the ensemble (with special mention of Lloyd and Barry) keep us engaged and entertained. It just takes its time to reach its explosive resolution.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Helena Lima’s Cecily falling for the charms of Alex Morley-Wiseman’s Bruce (Photo: Graeme Braidwood)
UNFORTUNATE – The Untold Story of Ursula The Sea Witch
Birmingham Hippodrome, Thursday 11th April 2024
Fat Rascal’s Unfortunate is back at the Hippodrome, but this time it has swapped the studio space for the whopping main stage. The show has blossomed from a piece of pub theatre to a full-scale musical – albeit a parody.
Disney’s The Little Mermaid is a classic. And that’s why the parody works, because the film still has cultural currency. The script, by Robyn Grant and Daniel Foxx, has been updated so the topical references still zing, although when a bunch of fugly puppets gather to sing ‘We Didn’t Make It To Disney’, the number overlooks the present-day accusations of ‘wokeness’ levelled at the corporate behemoth.
Grant and Foxx provide the lyrics to Tim Gilvin’s tunes, which are pastiches of the well-known songs from the film and others. Ariel’s ‘I Want’ song ‘Part of Your World’ becomes ‘Where The Dicks Are’, because above all, this show is loaded with smut, smut, glorious smut. Juvenile, puerile, but also clever. The funny lines come thick and fast (so to speak) and are played to the hilt by an energetic ensemble in colourful costumes.
Leading the cast is the magnificent Shawna Hamic as Ursula the Sea Witch. Hamic’s characterisation is a homage to the late great Pat Carroll who voiced the role in the film, and yet Hamic also makes the part completely her own. Ursula narrates her version of events, from childhood up to and including the movie. We meet her as a tentacled child, defeating her bullies with dark magic, and later as a teen, striking up a high-school relationship with the heir to the throne of Atlantica, young Prince Triton (a marvellously posturing Thomas Lowe).
Drag Race UK alumnus River Medway is serving fish as Ariel, with a broad Estuary accent that is as hilarious as she is glamorous. When Ariel surrenders her voice to the sea witch for plot reasons, Medway is even funnier in dumbshow, proving herself a genuine comic talent.
Allie Dart is in fine form as Sebastian the crab (here with a County Cork accent, rather than the original’s Jamaican, for reasons of sensitivity) and as the French chef. “Zat was fucking mental!” she observes with exquisite timing.
Julian Capolei proves his mettle as a rather camp Grimsby (what am I saying, EVERYONE is camp in this show) a melodramatic and dragged up as Ursula’s alter ego Vanessa. Also great fun is Jamie Mawson as the dim-witted Prince Eric, every inch Ariel’s intellectual equal.
Robyn Grant’s direction shows a flair for comic invention, an eye for detail, and an ear for line-reading, eliciting an energised and committed performance from the entire cast.
Everything works in concert to make this one of the funniest shows around: the puppets, the lighting, the costumes, the choreo… The larger stage is a good fit. Like a goldfish in a bowl, the show has expanded to fill the bigger space.
If you’re not fortunate enough to be able to catch the show during its brief Birmingham run, fret not. It’s coming back to the region for a stint at Wolverhampton’s Grand Theatre in July.
The Alexandra Theatre, Birmingham, Tuesday 9th April 2024
I’ll come right out and say it: I don’t enjoy the Shrek films. They’re low-rent Disney rip-offs, and the animation lacks the charm and heart of the films it seeks to parody and to emulate. But, you never know, perhaps I’ll find the material more amenable when presented as a musical for the stage…
It’s a neat idea, to flip a fairy tale so that the monster is the protagonist, the hero we’re supposed to root for. And so, the eponymous Shrek the ogre, booted out by his parents at the age of seven, and enjoying a hermitic life in a swamp, is forced to take action when other fairy tale characters are rounded up and evicted from the kingdom, because of their ‘otherness’ and come to live in his swamp. More could be made of this, especially when it turns out the one responsible for this discrimination is also a ‘colourful’ character himself, in a display of hypocrisy we usually see in conservative politicians.
On his way, Shrek teams up, against his will, with a loud-mouthed donkey, called Donkey. They face the dragon, rescue the princess and so on, but the inversion of the plot mechanics is what gives the piece its originality.
This is a good-looking production, with colourful curves arcing over the stage, the scenery enhanced by video projections. And the costumes are spectacular. There is no stinting on production values. But I find the score tiresome. Too many forgettable songs – especially from our leading monster, who gets to search his soul so many times it quickly begins to feel like padding. Shrek is played by Antony Lawrence, a gentle giant who has a strong, clear voice, but somehow I imagined the ogre would be a baritone.
Lawrence is upstaged by Brandon Lee Sears as Donkey, who is all kinds of sass and has a superb singing voice. I might have liked to see Donkey as a pantomime horse, with two performers. In fact, the whole production could benefit from leaning into its more pantomime aspects, rather than trying to reproduce the feel of the movie.
Another great voice comes from Cherece Richards as the Dragon. I could listen to her all night. It’s a shame it’s a cameo role.
Clearly enjoying herself as Princess Fiona, Joanne Clifton is a ballsy leading lady and boy, can she hold those long notes! Her Fiona is a broadly comic figure, and there is one of the best musical moments when, imprisoned in her tower, we see the princess at different stages of her incarceration over the years.
Stealing the show, though, in my opinion, is James Gillan as the villainous Lord Farquaad, in a screamingly camp performance complete with Richard III bob. Gillan is monstrously good; we applaud his performance rather than boo the character.
The lyrics are better than the laboured dialogue, but the tunes don’t stick in the mind. The talented ensemble keep the energy levels high, selling the material as if their lives depend on it. It’s pretty telling when the number that gets us going is the iconic Monkees hit, I’m A Believer, which closes the show. None of the show’s original songs come close to this brilliance.
It’s a crowd-pleaser, to be sure, with something for all the family. If that family revels in farting and throwaway pop culture references.
☆ ☆ ☆
Roar talent. Donkey (Brandon Lee Sears) and Shrek (Antony Lawrence) Photo: Marc Brenner
The Gielgud Theatre, London, Saturday 6th April 2024
John Cassavetes’s film from 1977 is something of an acquired taste, but it makes sense that someone like Rufus Wainwright would be involved in a stage adaptation, having previously explored diva-ish behaviour in his opera, Prima Donna.
It’s the story of rehearsals for a Broadway play, The Second Woman, but the leading lady’s offstage emotional problems bleed into her onstage performance. Is she acting or going around the twist for real? The death of a young fan complicates the actress’s mental state, turning up like Banquo’s ghost and skipping around in an annoying fashion.
This adaptation adds a documentary film crew to the mix. Camera operators stalk the actors, casting their close-ups onto a ginormous screen suspended over the set. It’s a gimmick in line with a current fad among West End shows, but it takes away more than it gives to the performance. Often, when someone’s mug looms over proceedings, I’m distracted enough to search the crowded stage to see where the actor is. It can be tricky to keep track of the action, with actors milling around in a naturalistic fashion (by which I mean, apparently unfocussed) and the camera choosing what is enlarged for our viewing pleasure.
One of the UK’s favourite stars, Sheridan Smith, plays the troubled Myrtle Gordon, and as you’d expect, her charisma shines through the muddled material. She spends a lot of time far upstage, her back turned, singing to her dressing room mirror, her reflection magnified on the screen. It’s a distancing effect and keeps us from engaging with the character. Smith leads a fine cast, who bob up to the surface every now and then for their moment. Among them are Benjamin Walker as co-star Maurice, and John Marquez as David. I’m not sure if those who haven’t seen the film will be clear on who these characters are in Myrtle’s life, due to a lack of exposition. Also strong are Hadley Fraser as the director and Nicola Hughes as the playwright. Hughes gets a wonderfully dark song, which she emotes her way through on the big screen, like a judge on Krypton, while being sidelined from the action. Also good is Amy Lennox as Dorothy – a role much abbreviated from the film.
Having loved his output for decades, I’m always excited to hear new music by Rufus Wainwright, and fans will recognise his hand in every number of this sophisticated score. Trouble is, for a show about a show, there are only glimpses of what could be showstopping show tunes. As a concept album, the piece would work brilliantly, but where are the Sondheim standout moments, the Cole Porter frivolity? They seem to be bubbling under the surface. Wainwright should lean into the genre’s great heritage rather than referencing classical music (the Overture could have been written by Faure) and alluding to classical mythology (eg Trojan women) in his lyrics.
The play-within-the play, the dreadful The Second Woman, affords a solid gold opportunity to exploit the musical theatre form. Instead, we get repeated scenes, lifted directly from the screenplay. Which brings us to the nub of the problem:
Director Ivo Van Hove’s staging, relying as it does on cameras and screens, robs the piece of its theatricality. It becomes something else. With the action on stage obfuscated, we are forced to look at the screen to keep up with what’s happening. There needs to be more differentiation between rehearsals and preview performances – the stage is mostly bare for both. Here’s an idea, use us, the audience as backdrop for the performance scenes…
There is one sequence when Van Hove’s humongous screen comes into its own and makes for striking visuals and storytelling: while Myrtle wrestles with Nancy the annoying teenage ghost (Shira Haas) the image is multiplied, each iteration playing on a delay. With Wainwright’s score rocking out at this point, the moment excellently expresses Myrtle’s inner torment.
But it’s not enough to save the show. Rather than showing us, the screen screens things from us. The documentary crew is a bad idea (Myrtle wouldn’t let them see her like this!) and what could have been an incisive look at public and private personas through the metaphor of theatre, ends up as a showy morass, a messy, patchy presentation that gets in its own way.
☆ ☆
Rose to the occasion. Sheridan Smith as Myrtle (Photo: Jan Versweyveld)
The Swan Theatre, Stratford upon Avon, Tuesday 2nd April 2024
Mark Ravenhill’s new play couldn’t be further from his first one (Sh*pping and Fucking), dealing with a rather rarefied moment in British musical history. Composer Benjamin Britten has just nine months to come up with a grand opera in time for the coronation of Elizabeth II. Along comes Imogen, daughter of Gustav ‘The Planets’ Holst, to assist. Imo is unsure of what her role entails, but for our purposes, she is there to push all of Britten’s buttons. Sometimes they are friends, having fun, knocking back Drambuie. At others, they are at loggerheads and the fur flies.
Samuel Barnett’s Britten is brittle, reserved and closed, in contrast with Victoria Yeates’s Imogen, who is open, expressive, and forthright. Both actors are equally matched in their barbed exchanges, bringing all the colours of this volatile friendship to the fore. Ravenhill’s dialogue scintillates when they’re happy, and the sparks fly when they’re upset. Yeates’s intonations in particular evoke the bygone age, while Barnett fleshes out the more famous of the pair with petulance and a degree of emotional immaturity.
Most of the time, they don’t seem to getting any work done, but then writing music is hardly stage-worthy, and apparently, this was Britten’s method: to do precious little and then all of a sudden splurge out pages and pages of brilliance. There is something of the Mozart and Salieri about the pairing, with Holst putting herself very much in Britten’s shadow, regardless of what her own talents and achievements may be.
Director Erica Whyman bows out of her time at the RSC with this beautifully paced piece, eliciting engaging, nuanced and detailed performances from her brace of actors. It’s stylishly produced, with a revolving grand piano dominating the stage, casting its huge shadow on the back wall, like a looming presence.
You don’t have to be an aficionado of classical music to enjoy this portrayal of genius. You can’t have genius without the darkness, Imo opines, and she’s right, and it’s what makes Britten an interesting character, with his flaws held up to the light. And it’s also a story of a woman learning to stand up for herself and not to always take the supporting role.
Hugely enjoyable, and a real treat to see two superb performers firing off each other.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
There, there. Victoria Yeates as Imo and Samuel Barnett as Ben. Photo by Ellie Kurttz (c) RSC
Grand Theatre, Wolverhampton, Thursday 28th March, 2024
Crass comedian David Walliams has carved out a hugely successful second career as an author of children’s books. Very much in the same vein as Roald Dahl’s work, the stories often feature a decent child among grotesque adults. This one has young Stella imprisoned by Aunt Alberta, who is plotting to rob the child of her inheritance. What sets this one apart from other Walliams books is it’s not set in the present day. It’s old-fashioned, taking its cues from say, a Frances Hodgson Burnett or a Philippa Pearce et al.
Adapted for the Birmingham Stage Company by director Neal Foster, the action is set entirely in the gothic mansion at stake. As usual, the production values and the theatricality are top drawer – invariably I find these BSC versions more palatable than the books! Foster also appears in the title role, playing Alberta larger-than-life and then some! A truly monstrous figure as ridiculous as she is cruel. Foster inhabits the role with gusto, keeping on the right side of the Monty Python method of female impersonation, which would be terribly grating sustained for two hours.
Our heroine Stella is portrayed by Annie Cordoni, whose youthful energy brings out the character’s duality: Stella is on the brink of her teenage years, so in some ways she is mature and capable, in others she is still prone to emotional outbursts. Cordoni keeps Stella’s resilience and self-reliance to the fore, as she is forced to overcome her childish fears and take direct action to save her skin.
Imprisoned in the coal cellar, Stella befriends a ghost in the form of young chimney sweep Soot (a likeable Matthew Allen) and the pair work together to overthrow the tyrannical Alberta. Soot has a nice line in Cockney rhyming slang, a contrast to posho Stella’s plummier tones. The representation of class is old school, but at least by the end Stella learns to not be so much of a snob.
Adding humour to proceedings is Zain Abrahams as Gibbon, the deaf and dotty butler. Adding menace is a beautiful puppet owl called Wagner (operated by Emily Essery). Puppets also feature in action scenes, as though in long shot. Foster’s direction blends these ‘zoom outs’ seamlessly, while Jacqueline Trousdale’s set slides on and off or rotates to take us to various locations in and outside of the mansion.
Composer Jak Poore’s music contains plenty of crashing chords to highlight the melodramatic aspects of the story, and to intensify the suspense.
Yes, it’s all over-the top. Yes, the moral message seems bolted on at the end, but it all makes for a funny, gripping, comedy-thriller with something to entertain every member of the family.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
A real hoot: Emily Essery gives a hand to Wagner the owl while Aunt Alberta (Neal Foster) is mother.
With Sibelius’s fifth symphony ebbing and flowing, images play on a screen that stretches the width of the stage, images of the Big Bang, the creation of life under the sea, civilisation with its skyscrapers and network of roads, space stations, colonies on other worlds… And so the past, present and future are revealed to us.
On bounds Professor Brian Cox who, though now in his fifties, could be mistaken for someone thirty years younger in his black denims and with his full head of hair, the bastard. For the next couple of hours, in that familiar soft voice, Cox orates this history of prehistory and post-history, dwelling on the nature of cosmology and its scientific and philosophical implications. I won’t attempt to summarise because I could only get things wrong but terms I recognise like ‘Hubble telescope’, ‘Whirlpool galaxy’ and ‘singularity’ feature quite a bit, along with others that are new to me, like ‘cosmic web’. The show is a learning experience as much as a piece of entertainment – and Cox is very entertaining in his casual, affable manner. Before introducing us to an equation he asks if there are any mathematicians in the house. This being Dudley, there are none. “I could just make this shit up!” he chuckles.
Into the mix, he brings in the work of Hawking and Sagan, among others, very much demonstrating that the work is ongoing, with knowledge expanding like the universe, with old ideas being reevaluated in the light of new theories and new understanding. One of the images he shares with us is only a week old!
It’s a lot to take in and you have to stay alert. There’s no time to mull things over because his laser pointer is onto something else already! Somehow, I manage to keep up and I think I grasp most of it. Good job there’s no exam at the end.
Inevitably the insignificance of our small blue planet comes to the fore, but also something more positive. If we are unique, if we are the only beings anywhere who even try to understand the universe, then we are all the more valuable. Then I think of those who need to hear this, the warmongers and climate change deniers and inactivists that put us all at threat, and I get depressed all over again.
Awe-inspiring, brain-stretching, and sobering all at once, this is an engaging and enlightening experience that gives us plenty to think about, long after the charming Professor Cox has left the stage.
The Union Theatre, Southwark, London, Saturday 16th March, 2024
Frank’s fiancé, Alan, has told him to clear out his closet in advance of their imminent nuptials. For me, that would be a massive red flag, and Frank too (bless him) has his doubts – because his wardrobe is not full of the usual clutter or even a pathway to Narnia. Frank’s closet is brimming with his prize collection of theatrical costumes, ranging from Marie Lloyd to Dusty Springfield, via Karen Carpenter and Judy Garland and so on. As he sorts through the clothes, Frank reminisces about his past with the previous owner of the outfit conjured up before him to sing him a life lesson or, if not, to have a good time!
The plot may be wafer thin, but the talent is thick on the ground. Staged as a cabaret, with a mocked-up proscenium arch upstage centre, the show is a series of monologues (comic and otherwise) broken up by musical numbers, performed by Frank, a quartet of Gaiety Girls and the successive divas.
Leading the cast as Frank is Andy Moss, familiar from TV but also no stranger to musical theatre. Moss makes Frank a rounded figure, whose joie de vivre in the musical numbers is countered by vulnerability and periods of self-doubt. We take to him immediately. Lines by other characters are supplied by the Gaiety Girls; we really are in Frank’s headspace.
Playing all the songbirds is The Diva – a remarkable Luke Farrugia who captures the look and sound of each superstar. The songs are by Stuart Wood (who also wrote the script) and are all solid pastiches of familiar hits. You can easily imagine Agnetha Faltskog performing ‘Abba Made Me Gay’ – well, you don’t have to imagine it, Luke Farrugia is doing it for you!
Jo McShane’s choreography puts the cast through their paces, changing with the eras, everything from ostrich feathers to high-kicking chorus lines. The Gaiety Girls (Sarah Freer, Jack Rose, Olivia McBride, and Oliver Bradley-Taylor) hardly leave the stage, keeping the music hall-burlesque-boîte de nuitenergy going. Special mention must be made of Paul Toulson who, as the wonderfully named Sheila Blige entertains us in the bar before the show and, with the Gaiety Girls, during the interval. Good, old-fashioned double entendre that’s only smutty if you think it is.
With music played live, under the direction of Anto Buckley, the production feels like a step back in time, a survey of queer musical icons. Nostalgia is strong, yes, but the show also feels fresh. This production is a revival and reworking of the show’s original incarnation from 2009, and it’s the kind of thing that could run for a long time, constantly updating its divas and references.
I imagine what someone like Jinkx Monsoon could do in this show and get shivers!
Meanwhile, as it stands, Frank’s Closet is a feelgood, cheeky cabaret that even managed to get a raucous and enthusiastic response from today’s matinee crowd.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Being perfectly Frank, Andy Moss and two of the Gaiety Girls (Sarah Freer and Olivia McBride)
Bear Pit Theatre, Stratford upon Avon, Wednesday 13th March, 2024
Myra is dying. It’s terminal cancer and the end is nigh. Before she pops her clogs, she wants to plan her funeral. This gives her husband and two grown-up daughters the ‘ick’. They don’t want to talk about it.
This brand new play by Laura Wade boasts a casketful of funny lines as, luckily for the audience, the characters use gallows humour as a coping mechanism.
As Myra, Lynn Taylor shines, combining physical frailty with steely determination. Myra is resigned to her impending fate and wants to meet it her way. She’s even made a clunky PowerPoint she makes the family sit through.
Husband Alec (Steve Bizley) delivers some of the darkest barbs but we can see how incapable he is, emotionally, as he takes out his aggression and frustration on the company who consistently fail to fix the boiler. The house is cold, symbolising the stark reality the family is facing.
It’s not all grumpiness and snark between the two. There’s a touching moment when affection is rekindled that is beautifully done.
Younger daughter Jenna (Sammie Horton) embodies the sulky, snappy sarcasm and petulance of a teenager who never grew up. Jenna’s emotional immaturity is only slightly wearing as Horton shows us other aspects of the character in a very funny portrayal of a spoilt little sister.
Older sister Harriet (Hannah McBride) is the most emotionally savvy of the lot, but even she can burst forth with angry, colourful language when the need arises. McBride is all about control, and even when Harriet loses her temper, we get the impression she knows precisely what she’s saying, aiming her resentment like a sniper with bullets.
It’s all nicely played and the pacing is handled perfectly by director Jacquie Campbell, avoiding mawkishness and morbidness. Wade’s script deftly keeps sentiment between the waspish lines, putting conversations we should all be having with our loved ones front and centre.
Sadly, statistically speaking, cancer is an ordinary disease. Myra chooses to face her death sentence in a positive manner. Perhaps a little too positively. She’s an admirable example, to be sure, but I don’t believe we should go quietly into that good night. We should be raging against a government that prioritises spending on weapons, and squandering untold billions on sending some of the world’s most vulnerable and desperate people to Rwanda, rather than using public money to find a cure.
While it’s not exactly life-affirming, Colder Than Here will give you a warm and fuzzy feeling. An entertaining and provocative piece.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Lynn Taylor and Sammie Horton as Myra and Jenna (Photo Chris Clarke)
One of the most successful musicals of all time is on the road again and it’s a real treat to be able to catch it during its stay at Birmingham’s Hippodrome. If you’ve seen it before, you’ll recall the emotional highs and lows of the story, and the green-faced one belting out ‘Defying Gravity’, but perhaps like me you’ll be reminded just how funny the show is. Winnie Holzer’s script sparkles with wit and an almost Seussian glee in using made-up words with ‘definish braverism’.
Also, I am struck by the production values. The exquisite costumes (by Susan Hilferty) in particular give the show its definitive look, with special mention to Tom Watkins’s wigs and hair. Oz is certainly not Kansas anymore. In fact, the show has a distinctively British feel to it, which works very well, except when a line is an American idiom. We even get a Geordie munchkin, in the form of Daniel Hope’s long-suffering Boq.
It’s a show that is dominated by the two central figures, Elphaba and Galinda, two contrasting personalities who meet at Shiz University and strike up an instant dislike to each other. The plot has them become roommates and it’s ultimately rather touching to see friendship bloom and blossom between them.
Laura Pick’s Elphaba is a dour figure, snapping at those who revile her for her skin colour, but when she sings…This Elphaba tugs at your heartstrings. Pick certainly can belt, while keeping the emotion of the song to the fore. The Act One closer, the show’s most famous number, Defying Gravity, brings the house down. It’s a high that show never quite reaches again – not that I wish to write off the second act, which is a turmoil (perhaps even a twister) of action and emotional resolution.
For me, this time around, it’s Sarah O’Connor’s Galinda who takes the prize. It’s a nuanced, sometimes deadpan portrayal of the ditzy blonde whose experiences with someone at the opposite end of the popularity scale bring out her humanity and compassion. She is also extremely funny.
The farewell duet where the pair admit their relationship has changed them for the better is a gut punch that brings tears to the eyes.
Donna Berlin’s Madame Morrible makes the most of the part. At first, a benevolent, welcoming Head-Shiz-tress, then later a duplicitous, manipulative mouthpiece for Simeon Truby’s avuncular Wizard of Oz. Truby certainly delivers the villain’s sentimental side but I would like to see a glimpse of coldness, of his determination to cling to power at all costs.
Carl Man is a gorgeous Fiyero, arriving at university like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast, all self-centred posturing. Fiyero is handsome and he knows it. But there is more to the role than that, as he supports Elphaba in her animal rescue missions. Man brings backbone to the part, which is ironic when you know how the character ends up!
The show is about more than female friendship. Of course, Elphaba’s minority skin colour makes her an obvious cipher for racism, but she is not the only victim of Oz society’s malleable morals. The talking animals are scapegoated, rounded up and stripped of their rights and ability to speak out. Yes, it’s reminiscent of Nazi Germany, but (and this is what hit me hardest) it’s a direct reference to what is going on in the world today. The vulnerable are blamed for society’s ills and, amazingly, people buy into it. The Wizard pins the blame on the animals, justifying their abuse and disenfranchisement, just like our own feeble prime minister strikes up a chorus of ‘Stop the boats’ whenever he is in danger of appearing weak.
Fuelling the fire is Madame Morrible’s ceaseless propaganda; she is the media, supporting government policy, glossing over the inhumanity and cruelty – which is all too close to the bone, when you consider what is going on in Gaza.
Elphaba becomes the poster girl for society’s problems, hunted by the military. But, as we know, one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter; it just depends on who is doing the labelling.
And so, two decades since it first appeared, the show has gained in relevance and topicality. Yes, it’s funny, yes, it’s moving, but if it doesn’t make you think about the world we live in, you’re missing a trick.
A magical, spellbinding musical, extravagant and emotional. As the young folk were wont to say, it’s well wicked.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Sarah O’Connor and Laura Pick (Photo: Matt Crockett)
Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford upon Avon, Thursday 29th February 2024
Among Shakespeare’s works, this romantic comic fantasy ranks as one of his greatest hits, and done well, it’s easy to see why. It’s also something that in the wrong hands, can be rather twee. Eleanor Rhode’s new production dispenses with the forest – even the fairies are reduced to tiny orbs of light – and there is a 1980s retro vibe to the design, most of which works well.
Duke Theseus (Bally Gill) is a bit of a mis-step. Gill plays the Ancient Greek hero as an imitation of Rishi Sunak. If Theseus had been half as insipid as the prime minister, the Minotaur would have had an easy lunch. So, the one-note performance becomes tiresome pretty quickly. Sharing a scene with Neil McCaul’s masterly Egeus, the aggrieved and unreasonable father, Thesunak looks all the weaker. Gill also doubles as Oberon, King of the Fairies. Here, he’s allowed to be more authoritative, if only he wasn’t dressed like he was walking home from a night out at a New Romantics club, all flouncy shirt and Adam Ant jacket. Similarly, Sirine Saba’s Hippolyta is all shoulder pads and power dressing, while her Titania lets her hair down, sporting a disco diva jumpsuit. They are design choices that tie the immortals to the earth, rather than accentuating their otherness.
Puck, on the other hand, feels like a fresh take. Rosie Sheehy makes for a robust sprite. With her purple trousers, green hair, white face and red lips, she is definitely cos-play Joker. Her down-to-earth humour and irreverent manner contrast nicely with her magical abilities, in a show-stealing performance.
I was surprised to hear comedy star Matthew Baynton had been cast as Bottom the Weaver. I’m used to my Bottoms being boorish and overbearing, which is completely against Baynton’s type. And so, his Bottom is an effete, posturing thing, ironically more ethereal than the Fairy King and Queen. Translated into a donkey, he is still rather sweet with his big ears and buck teeth. It makes a nonsense of Puck’s line that Titania has fallen in love with a monster. Baynton’s cuteness robs Titania’s infatuation of its potential for grossness and ridiculousness. When it comes to the play-within-the-play, a horrible history of doomed lovers, Baynton really earns his fee and his star billing, in an elegantly daft, declamatory portrayal of Pyramus. Now the casting makes perfect sense.
Interestingly, the Mechanicals create a prologue for their play, a trigger warning in case people are afraid of lions. Nowadays, it would mention the subject of suicide. It’s as though Shakespeare is satirising something that came along centuries later.
Speaking of the Mechanicals, there are pleasing turns from Helen Monks as an enthusiastic Quince, Laurie Jameson as Snug the Joiner, Emily Cundick as Snout the tinker (whose Wall stands stony-faced through some of the bawdiest of the comic business!) and Premi Tamang as Starveling the tailor, whose Moon is absolutely deranged and would not be out of place in a Japanese horror film. But it is Mitesh Soni as Flute, dragged up as Thisbe who wins our hearts in a touching but still hilarious performance.
Ryan Hutton as Lysander has all the moves of a romantic lover, albeit in an exaggerated manner, while Nicholas Armfield’s Demetrius is more grounded but is still prone to histrionics. The wonderfully named Boadicea Ricketts makes an outspoken Helena, wearing trousers in a man’s world, while Dawn Sievewright’s Hermia with her Scottish brogue gives the lie to Helena’s claim that they grew up together. Sievewright chucks herself around like a rabid wrestler in some well-choreographed brawling scenes. I have to say that the Fight & Intimacy directors Rachel Bown-Williams and Ruth Cooper-Brown, and Movement Director Annie-Lunnette Deakin-Foster have done a bang-up job with this show.
Another brilliant feature is Will Gregory’s original electronica-infused music, played live under the direction of Bruce O’Neil. The settings of Puck’s songs are especially wonderful.
Suspended above the stage are dozens and dozens of sphere of different sizes, that glow and change colour and display projected images as the action dictates. It’s a magical idea, again putting me in mind of nightclubs rather than a mystical forest.
For the most part, this is a hugely enjoyable, immensely funny, if earthbound production, that is accessible without dumbing down. And at least it’s not twee!
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Eeyore to look worse. Matthew Baynton’s Bottom meets Sirine Saba’s Titania
Alexandra Theatre, Birmingham, Monday 26thFebruary 2024
Due to a lack of creativity among musical theatre producers, they think all they have to do is pick an old film that everybody likes, bung some pop songs in it and hey presto! Box office gold.
If only.
The Richard Gere-Debra Winger film from the 1980s is given the jukebox musical treatment, and people of a certain age are flocking to it, prompted no doubt by nostalgia. Mercifully, most of the picture’s Reaganite propaganda has been watered down to make the material more palatable for today’s sensibilities. The archaic gender politics are still there, under the surface, but that’s about all there is under the surface in this supremely shallow show.
The wafer-thin plot concerns a bunch of naval recruits undergoing twelve gruelling weeks of training, which seem to consist of doing a bit of dancey P.E. while being harangued by a loud, slightly camp bitch of a drill sergeant. Those who wish to quit, ring a bell. Those who stay the course venture into town to pick up women, with the sergeant’s warning ringing in their ears: Watch out! They only want one thing – that thing being to trap the officers into marriage. The naval recruits are seen as little more than a meal ticket for the local girls, their passport out of the town and the drudgery of their factory jobs.
We get training montages at the naval base (although no one even mentions a ship or even the sea) and in the factory we get feminist anthems. When men and women meet we get karaoke Bon Jovi. There are plenty of songs, each of them high on the nostalgia scale. The trouble is giving pop songs to musical theatre performers rarely works. It’s a different kind of singing. Pop music doesn’t need to be belted out. And so classics like Blondie’s Heart of Glass and Cindy Lauper’s Girls Just Want To Have Fun are murdered right before our very ears.
Luke Baker takes the Richard Gere role, a character by the name of Zack Mayo, whose dad is a drunken womaniser and whose mum killed herself when he was young. These circumstances have led to a charisma-bypass, and it’s hard to care a jot for him. Also trying hard with a two-dimensional part is Georgia Lennon as Mayo’s main squeeze, Paula. Of course, at the end, when Zack picks her up at the factory in that iconic scene, the crowd goes wild. I suspect that if this moment had been overlooked, they would have torn the place apart. The exhilaration I feel is because we have at last reached the end of what feels like a twelve-week long show. And I could have done without the appearance of Mayo’s newly dead mate Sid appearing up above in a pristine white uniform he hasn’t earned, smiling down.
Another crowd pleaser is Olivia Foster-Browne as Seegar, the female recruit who can’t get over the wall on the assault course without helping hands from the men. In a bizarre piece of staging, the action goes to slow mo, and the men lift her high and walk her up the wall. At no other point do things get this stylised. I would be more impressed if she actually scrambled up the thing unaided, proving she’s just as good as the blokes.
There is an awkwardly staged scene around a dinner table which adds nothing and is utterly pointless.
Jamal Crawford is fine as the big mouth drill sergeant. Curiously, his voice dips in power when he is singing. Not so with Wendi Harriott as Aunt Bunny and Melanie Masson as Paula’s mother. These two have the best voices of the lot, but they eschew the feminist anthems for the soppy hit ballad in the final scene.
The songs all descend into shouting matches, and no amount of emoting can cover the fact that often the lyrics don’t fit. But that’s jukebox musicals for you.
Of course, this is a money-making rather than a creative endeavour. People who remember the film as being better than it actually is will get a kick from it. But I crave originality. How I yearned to jump onto the stage and ring that bloody bell for myself.
☆
I got nowhere else to go! Jamal Crawford and Luke Baker (Photo: Marc Brenner)
Crescent Theatre, Birmingham, Sunday 25th February 2024
Willy Russell’s much-loved play is given stylish treatment in this new production at the Crescent. Director Fi Cotton sets the action in the round. We, the audience, are the walls of lecturer Frank’s office. As well as our smiling faces, there is a couple of swivel chairs, and a small stepladder, and a few stacks of books. Well, you don’t want furniture and scenery getting in the way when you’re in the round. Cotton has made the decision not to have any props. When the telephone rings, Frank talks to thin air. When he wants an illicit drink from the stash among his bookshelves, he merely stands atop the small stepladder, there being no bookshelves nor concealed bottles. Interesting, I think. The scenery ban robs Rita’s entrance of some of its impact. Thanks to a wonky doorknob she bursts into Frank’s office and into his life. Here this is reduced to a few stumbling steps across the floor.
As Frank, William Hayes has the lecturer’s condescension and patronising humour down pat. Beneath this mask, there is his emotional life, which is in turmoil, and his increasing dependency on booze, which threatens his professional life. Hayes is utterly credible, even when he’s repeatedly standing on his small stepladder gazing at shelves that aren’t there.
Vicky Youster’s Rita is a joy. Youster does a more than passable Liverpudlian accent, capturing the cadence of Russell’s dialogue and hitting all the punchlines perfectly. “Don’t laugh at me!” Rita repeats, when she gets something (amusingly) wrong. And she’s right. To laugh at this working class woman who is trying to make something of herself would be patronising. It strikes me that someone like Rita, coming to see the play, would not understand why her errors are funny, and our laughter might alienate them further from educational pursuits.
Fi Cotton gets the tonal shifts of their relationship spot on. While Rita hits the books, Frank hits the bottle. They learn from each other and grow. Unfortunately, Cotton’s no props rule is not applied consistently. Rita presents Frank with a pen in a gift box. He gives her a dress. Meanwhile, they don’t even mime having the drinks he doesn’t mime fetching from his stepladder… Also, some of the lighting choices jar somewhat. Changes of colour and/or intensity mid scene in a half-hearted expressionistic way serve only to distract from the heated exchanges.
Most jarring of all though are the updates to the dialogue. Instead of singing along with the jukebox in their local, Rita’s friends and family have come across a song on Tik Tok. It doesn’t work. If you’re going to dabble with updates, you have to go the whole hog. If Tik Tok exists, then Rita would presumably be emailing her essays in. Her tutorials would more than likely take place as Zoom sessions. She would text Frank to say she couldn’t make it to his dinner party. Then you’d have a very different play! The piece doesn’t need updating in order to speak to us about working class lack of aspirations and exclusion from education and the arts.
It’s beautifully acted though, and it’s still funny, pertinent and thought-provoking. If only some of the director’s choices didn’t get in the way!
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Vicky Youster and William Hayes as Rita and Frank (Photo: Graeme Braidwood)
Duke of York’s Theatre, London, Thursday 22nd February 2024
Henrik Ibsen’s play from 1882 is brought kicking and swearing into the 21st century in this new adaptation by Florian Borchmeyer and director Thomas Ostermeier. What’s wrong, you might think, with a straight translation from the original Norwegian performed in late Victorian attire, and leaving us to draw our own parallels with what’s happening in the world today? This was my thinking as I went in, but I soon came to realise that the play is placed in our present because the issues it addresses need addressing urgently in the now. By us.
Matt Smith stars as a local (rather than intergalactic) Doctor who discovers the water in the spa on which the town depends for its livelihood is contaminated. His brother the Mayor (Paul Hilton) is against making this news public. The costs of rectifying the contamination are too high. The town’s economy needs the baths to stay open. So far, so plot-of-Jaws. But, instead of a monster shark, it is the whistleblower who is vilified. Smith, expecting to be lionised, loses everything: job, home, reputation… People don’t like to hear the unpalatable truth – especially those misguided people who believe the economy is the be-all and end-all of human life.
Smith is superb, casually charismatic in the play’s earlier naturalistic scenes, when Dr Stockmann is certain he’s on the right path, contrasting with Hilton’s less laidback politician. There’s a lovely, telling moment when Hilton is completely useless trying to engage with his newborn nephew. This is a politician who lacks the human touch. When the brothers argue, they chase around, wrestling like children. But Hilton has all the power in this set-up.
Jessica Brown Findlay is exasperated as the doctor’s wife, Katharina. She gets to show off her vocal stylings when the characters gather for band practice, mainly at the urging of Zachary Hart’s Billings. The show opens, in fact, with a laid-back rendition of Hounds of Love, winning me over instantly. Hart is also responsible for a good deal of the humour of the piece, capitalising on his West Midlands cadence and physical funny business.
Priyanga Burford’s Aslaksen, newspaper proprietor, initially distances herself from the brewing controversy, but later, becomes more directly involved in the debate, with wry wit and cool-headed control. Nigel Lindsay as the doctor’s father-in-law Morton Kiil, complete with real life Alsatian, emerges as the villain of the piece – he owns the industrial plant mostly responsible for the poison in the water, while Shubham Saraf’s journalist Hovstad, is a mouthpiece for the media which supports those in power…
After the interval, the ‘fourth wall’ isn’t broken, it’s pushed to the back of the auditorium and suddenly we in the audience find ourselves cast as participants in a town hall meeting. Matt Smith launches into a monologue full of topical references, a catalogue of the ills of our society, full of ire and bile. I am one of those who raises their hand to show we agree. Although I suspect he is preaching to the converted.
Rather than inviting questions from the audience, answers are called for. Some among us speak out, seeking to unravel complex ideas like ‘Is the liberal majority made up of idiots?’ Burford skilfully hosts this section of the production, keeping the discourse on message, forcing us to explain and defend what we think and why we think it. The longer it goes on, the more I despair at the state of the country, the state of the world. People are unwilling to make the changes necessary to ensure civilisation survives. We are all complicit in our own extinction. It’s true.
I can imagine this part of proceedings going off the rails very easily, but today at this matinee on a rainy Thursday afternoon, we’re engaged and up for it.
It is the Doctor who is pelted with paint bombs, driven off stage for daring to tell us the truth we’d rather not hear.
It’s an electrifying piece of theatre, as funny as it is provocative. The way theatre should be. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed this riff on Ibsen’s original and I’ve had my conscience and consciousness well and truly browbeaten. But as I leave, I find I’m not primed to overthrow the unjust capitalist regime. I’m too depressed for that. Perhaps this society deserves the extinction that is coming for it.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Matt Smith as Doctor Stockmann (Photo: Manuel Harlan)
Blue Orange Theatre, Birmingham, Friday 16thFebruary 2024
Following the rip-roaring success of last year’s The Caper Trail, writer Ben Mills-Wood has revised one of his earlier works to create this new full-length farce. Farce is one of the most difficult genres to get right. Luckily, Mills-Wood is something of a dab hand and is fast becoming the Jewellery Quarter’s very own Ray Cooney.
Rich bitch Maria and her new age nonsense-spouting lover, Flo, check into their hotel room, thereby triggering an unlikely series of events and improbable situations. We quickly learn she has a husband, and Flo is a fraud. Of course, the husband turns up. And so does a sultry chambermaid with her own agenda. And the bell boy is not all he seems… In fact, everyone is up to something. High jinks and hilarity ensue.
As Maria, Annie Swift brings a touch of class and a nice comedic style. Jason Adam brings physical humour and amusing expressions as Sebastian the bell boy/waiter, while Alan Groucott as David the husband is an old-school sit-com authority figure, sexually frustrated and conniving. Oliver Jones’s Flo is more than a handsome himbo. In fact, Jones is developing a reputation as one for getting his kit off on-stage, like Birmingham’s very own Robin Askwith. He spends a lot of time in this play with his trousers around his ankles. It’s an excellent ensemble, to be sure, but stealing the show is Haina Al-Saud’s Norma the chambermaid, pouting and posing seductively with every line. It’s a perfectly ridiculous portrayal, the delightful cherry on this highly amusing cake.
Director Simon Ravenhill gets the tone exactly right for this kind of thing, managing the action with an assured hand. All the necessary ingredients are here: doors that open to admit someone the instant someone leaving closes a door behind them; there are misunderstandings, lies and evasions, secrets coming to light, surprises and revelations. One of the characters is a hypnotist, another has an extreme reaction to avocados… There’s plenty of comic business to keep the actors busy.
The writing is tight, ticking all the boxes and keeping the convoluted complications coming. Most impressively, Mills-Wood wraps it all up with a neat and satisfying resolution.
A farce needs to run like well-oiled clockwork. Here, the pace flags a little now and then. Like the machinations of the plot, the characters need to be more tightly wound. Some moments could do with more frenetic energy and a greater sense of urgency. Everyone should be out of breath by the end: the actors from running around and the audience from laughter.
That said, this is an excellent laugh. Duplicity for beginners? Hardly. By all accounts, this lot are experts.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
The farce is strong with this one. Oliver Jones as Flo (Photo: Mark Webster)
Not having read Yann Martel’s novel nor having seen the subsequent film adaptation, I approach the stage version (by Lolita Chakrabarti) with an open mind and a pair of fresh eyes.
We meet Pi (short for Piscine, as in the French for swimming pool) in a Canadian hospital, being interviewed by an official. Pi is the sole survivor of a shipwreck and the Company want to know what happened. He launches into his story, going back to his family life in India where his parents ran a zoo. Cue a range of puppet animals: butterflies on sticks, a goat, a hyena, a zebra, an orangutan and, most impressively, a Bengal tiger. It is a time of unrest. There is even violence against the animal inmates, and so Pi’s dad (Ralph Birtwell) decides to uproot the family and the zoo in the hope of a better life in a new country. So they all board an ill-fated ship… Because we know from the start that Pi is the only one to come out of it alive, there is a sense of doom hanging over the family, no matter how charming and funny they may be. It’s just a matter of waiting for disaster to befall them and – crucially in this inventive production – how it will be staged. Pi ends up in a lifeboat with some of the animals – who kill and eat each other – and he has to find a way of surviving with a tiger on board.
Director Max Webster uses every trick in the book of theatrical tricks to tell Pi’s story, from the War Horse-like puppets (the zebra especially) to the video backgrounds, the beautiful lighting… It’s a hugely impressive show, brimming with effective ideas.
As Pi, Divesh Subaskaran is an appealing young narrator, with an inquiring mind and a sense of humour. Pi seeks to understand the world by joining as many religions as he can, seeing no contradiction. He claims his story will ‘make you believe in God’. By the end, I have had no Damascene revelation. The play’s simplistic claims about faith leave me cold – like those who wake from a complex operation and thank God but not the team of surgeons!
Also strong in supporting roles are Goldy Notay as Amma, Lilian Tsang as the unimaginative investigator Mrs Okamoto, and Sharita Oomeer as the more sympathetic and credulous Miss Chen.
Really, the stars of the show are the ensemble, who take on smaller roles and operate the magnificent puppets like a tag team. It becomes easy to believe Richard Parker (the tiger) is a living breathing creature… But this is no cosy puppet show. This is nature, red in tooth and claw… Until it goes a bit loopy, and Richard Parker starts to speak. In a French accent… It is then we realise something is up.
Did the events, as related by Pi, happen? Or is he deranged from months of isolation and dehydration? He retells the tale with a cast of human characters in the lifeboat, and we realise the truth is a more brutal tale of man’s animalistic impulses when it comes to survival.
It’s a theatrical banquet, the ever-changing scenes held together by Subaskaran’s likeable presence, and there’s a sumptuous score composed by Andrew T Mackay. The splendid staging overshadows the substance of the story, which doesn’t strike me as all that original. I can’t help being reminded of a book written in 1914 by Tarzan author, Edgar Rice Burroughs. It’s called The Lad and the Lion and it too is about a boy on a boat with a big cat.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Tigger warning! Buckingham the Goat is about to find out what’s on the menu. Photo: Johan Persson
Ambassadors Theatre, London, Thursday 8th February 2024
Inspired by the notorious real-life events that supposedly took place in an Enfield council house in the 1970s, this new play by Paul Unwin has had something of a mixed reception, by all accounts. If you go in expecting a Woman in Black to show up at 2:22, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.
The action plays out on a substantial set, designed by Lee Newby, like a doll’s council house, showing a lounge and a bedroom above, reached by a flight of stairs to one side. Newby also designed the costumes, which fit in perfectly with the period furniture – and of course, based on the infamous photographs of the girls levitating in their room.
Leading the cast is Catherine Tate as Peggy, the mother. Being Catherine Tate, she can’t help being funny and some of the lines betray her impeccable comedic timing. But as the events unfold, Peggy’s humour becomes more of a defence mechanism, a way to contain the unexplainable within the confines of sarcasm. Yet underneath we can see how afraid she is for her three children, and how bewildered she is by the uncanny occurrences.
As Peggy’s rather wayward daughters, Ella Schrey-Yeats (Janet) and Grace Molony (Margaret) prove something of a handful. It’s never clear how many of the strange happenings are their doing – they do confess, somewhat ambiguously. But as the audience, we get glimpses of a terrifying presence in the house, so we know that not everything can be attributed to silly schoolgirl high jinks.
At this matinee, Peggy’s youngest, Jimmy is credibly played by Noah Leggott. The poor lad is much put upon by his elder sisters and is desperately in need of a guiding male influence. We feel for him at once, and its no wonder he forms an attachment to Maurice, one of the ‘investigators’ spending a lot of time at the house, measuring and monitoring all sorts. Maurice (a suitably creepy David Threlfall) turns out to have an agenda and a dead daughter of his own… There is also some sterling support from Mo Sesay as Uncle Ray, the next-door neighbour.
Director Angus Jackson counters the naturalism of the dialogue with moments of shock and dread. We are brought to the edge of our seats and kept there for the rest of the show’s 80-minute running time.
The haunting ends abruptly – in the same moment as the play ends, and I like that there’s no sentimental ‘phew, we survived’ group hug moment. Any menacing spirit would be a fool to pit itself against the might of a mother’s love. Especially when that mother is Catherine Tate.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Noah Leggott, Ella Schrey-Yeats and Catherine Tate (Photo: Marc Brenner)
The Alexandra Theatre, Birmingham, Tuesday 6th February, 2024
Arthur Kipps is an old man with a story to tell. He employs a young actor to give him tips and training so he feels able to tell his loved ones the story that has haunted him for thirty years. The Actor (Mark Hawkins) in the light of Kipps’s lack of presentation skills, proposes a reworking of the material, a dramatization in which he will play Kipps as a younger man and Kipps himself will portray the other characters in the story.
This is the set-up for Stephen Mallatratt’s superlative adaptation of Susan Hill’s novel. The show, after decades in the West End, is back on the road to strike fear into the hearts of theatregoers up and down the country.
At first, Kipps is reluctant to participate and lacking in confidence; this gives rise to a good deal of humour as they rehearse the early scenes. Gradually, Kipps becomes more proficient and versatile in his characterisations – Malcolm James earning his salt as a steadying (sometimes unsettling!) presence.
Mark Hawkins is put through the wringer, reliving Young Kipps’s terrifying experiences in the isolated house to which he is deployed to sort out the estate of its recently departed owner, in a thoroughly credible, captivating portrayal.
The genius of Mallatratt’s adaptation is the exuberance of its theatricality. Being a piece of narrative theatre, the play draws on the imagination of the audience, using technical features like recorded sound and coloured lights to create a sense of place and atmosphere, nudging us to imagine what is not shown. We are never far from the almost empty rehearsal space but we are at the same time transported to Eel Marsh House where we bear witness to its dark and terrible secrets.
It’s a masterful piece of storytelling, with both men captivating our attention. There is a third cast member, uncredited, in the title role. No matter how many times I see the play, every apparition of this ghastly figure is frightening, and that is testament to the effectiveness of the staging and the spell woven by the actors. And what a pleasure it is to be in a packed auditorium with people screaming and reacting!
Robin Herford’s direction wrings the best from his actors, keeping past and present clearly distinguished. Kevin Sleep’s lighting and Sebastian Frost’s sound design work as effectively as the actors to conjure moments of delicious suspense and sudden scares.
Expect shocks and surprises, and things that go bump in the night, in this supernaturally perfect piece of theatre that everyone should experience at least once.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Up against it! Mark Hawkins as the Actor (Photo: Mark Douet)
The Crescent Theatre, Birmingham, Saturday 3rd/Sunday 4th February 2024
That ever-ambitious lot at the Crescent have chosen to mark the theatre’s centenary by staging Alan Ayckbourn’s double-bill, where two plays run simultaneously, one on the main stage and the other in the studio, but (here’s the rub) there is only one cast between the two. When someone leaves the house, they have to go down a floor to enter the garden. As if the logistics of mounting one production aren’t enough. It’s a feat of stage-management, if nothing else!
The HOUSE in question is the rambling country seat that has been in the Platt family for generations. Current incumbents are the prone-to-infidelity Teddy (David Baldwin) and his wife Trish (Rose Parda Roques) who is giving her husband the silent treatment to the max. This leads to some funny scenes and forms a running joke throughout proceedings. Baldwin warms into his role as the frustrated (in more ways than one) Teddy but I find Roques a bit one-note. Her Trish is strident, which is excellent for projecting the voice into the auditorium) but there needs to be more nuance in the characterisation. Lola Hill plays their seventeen-year-old daughter Sally with all the clear-eyed conviction of adolescence; Sally later gets a bitter dose of reality at the hands of James David Knapp’s splendidly sinister and predatory Gavin Ryng-Mayne (with a Y).
Paula Snow lives it up as visiting French film star Lucille Cadeau and there is a sympathetic turn from Nick Owenford as the cuckolded Giles. Ayckbourn portrays the men as selfish and/or ineffectual. Owenford actually arouses our sympathy, while still delivering a comic portrayal. Charles Hubbard does the same as the lovelorn teenager Jake, mooning after Sally, and also falling foul of Gavin Ryng-Mayne.
Consistently funny are Michaela Redican and Chloe Potter as mother-and-daughter hired help, Izzie and Pearl, while other characters are barely glimpsed (because they spend most of the day in the garden…)
Directors Liz Plumpton and Steph Urquhart get the tone exactly right for this, the wordier piece of the two. The action flags a little bit in the second act but the set pieces, (the outbreak of French, for example) are nicely handled.
Ayckbourn’s women are long-suffering but also stupid for putting up with the selfish/ineffectual men as they do. Here, Trish demonstrates that women can have agency, can have options away from these monsters, culminating in a Doll’s House moment that is all the more effective for being underplayed. Lines about the government being full of crooks no longer come across as hyperbole but as prescience!
Timeless comedy, expertly presented.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
GARDEN
The action consists largely of the preparations for a fete at the bottom of the Platts’ garden. It’s familiar territory for Ayckbourn, but then so is the rest of the content here. It’s the simultaneous playing of the two pieces that lifts these pieces above his characteristic output.
It’s an annual event and in charge is Barry Love, a self-important boor, played to perfection by the mighty Colin Simmonds. As Barry’s put-upon wife Lindy, Deronie Pettifer gets our sympathy. As with Trish in House, Lindy reaches her limit. Perhaps Ayckbourn is advising the women in the audience that, if they recognise their partners in any of the monsters on-stage, they should follow Trish and Lindy’s examples…
We see more of Joanna in this one, scurrying around the garden and hiding in the bushes. Jenny Thurston plots Joanna’s course from unfaithful wife to unhinged housewife with wild-eyed and wild-haired abandon. Michaela Redican is also more present to spout housekeeper Izzie’s malapropisms, while Eduardo White’s taciturn gardener Warn speaks volumes by saying hardly anything at all.
The playing is excellent and Graeme Braidwood’s direction keeps things moving. I don’t detect any moments of padding while cast members make their way down from the other play. At one point, all is chaos as gothic/emo children prance around the maypole while Joanna attempts violence. It’s a glorious moment, although more could be made of the fountain, I reckon.
Taken separately, the plays are the usual Ayckbourn pillorying of the middle classes. Seen together, events and incidents are rounded out, lending each piece more depth and insight into human relationships.
Garden has more action, more physical comedy than House but viewing either one or both is highly entertaining.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Home truths: Nick Owenford as Giles and Rose Parda Roques as Trish (Photo: Graeme Braidwood)
Alexandra Theatre, Birmingham, Tuesday 16th January 2024
Paranormal man of the moment Danny Robins (he of BBC2 Uncanny and podcast fame) has penned this taut little chiller that has met with great success in the West End and is now touring the provinces.
Sam, Jenny and their baby daughter have moved into a house formerly owned by elderly widow Margaret. When Sam goes on a trip, Jenny becomes convinced there is ‘something’ in the house, ‘something’ which might pose a threat to the child. Sam, a rationalist, refutes any possibility of the supernatural. When his old uni friend Lauren brings her new fella Ben for a housewarming dinner party, the discussion becomes heated and ‘events’ really kick off. I don’t want to give anything away but security lights and foxes in the garden feature heavily in the jump scare department.
Things are at their worst, Jenny claims, at 2:22 am, and so the guests decide to stay up and see and hear for themselves. While they wait, their discourse covers a lot of ground, from the nature of the human brain to the history of the baby monitor.
George Rainsford (off of Casualty) is excellent as the smug and sarcastic cynic Sam, shooting down any claim to the spirit world. He is matched by Fiona Wade (off of Emmerdale) as the tightly wound Jenny. Jay McGuinness (formerly of The Wanted) adds bluff, working class plain-speaking as Ben, while Hollyoaks’s Vera Chok’s elegant Lauren harbours secrets of her own. As she knocks back the booze, things bubble to the surface – as if the spooky goings on weren’t enough to contend with!
Directors Matthew Dunster and Isabel Marr let the humour of the script come to the fore, swiftly engaging us in the conversation, and then, bam, we jump out of our skin. For me, the star of the show is the script. It’s funny, intelligent, intriguing, and surprising. It’s like a detective story and we’re the detectives, looking for clues. Robins even finds room for social commentary as the characters speculate that ghosts are like the homeless, all around us but we ignore them! The action builds to an emotional climax that has the audience audibly gasping, and we realise the clues were there all along.
My only question is why do they have such an ugly digital clock above the door? Of course, it’s for our benefit, as time ticks away to the dreaded hour of the title…
A thoroughly absorbing, thought-provoking and above all entertaining piece of theatre. So good, it’s uncanny.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
George Rainsford as sceptical Sam (Photo: Helen Murray)
Grand Theatre, Wolverhampton, Monday 15th January 2024
Netflix’s first big hit series is in itself a pastiche of the works of Stephen King, and now it comes in the form of this parody musical, which pokes fun at rather than venerates the source material. Writer of the book, music and lyrics, Jonathan Hogue is clearly a fan; the mockery he makes is always affectionate as it points up some of the more ridiculous aspects of the series. Hogue condenses the entire first season into a couple of hours of jaunty musical fun. All the main characters are here, played by an energetic ensemble. From where I’m sitting, the likenesses are pretty good; you can tell who everyone is supposed to be at a glance. They’re such an enthusiastic, talented bunch, it would be hard to pick favourites – but I’m going to try.
A standout for me is Verity Power as Joyce (the Winona Ryder role). Power has Joyce’s mannerisms down to an exaggerated T, and sings with intensity and, no pun intended, power. She also voices and operates little boy lost Will, whose disappearance into a parallel dimension is the motivating action of the plot. Will is a muppet. Literally. I expect to see him in Avenue Q when he grows up. While Power is an undoubted showstopper, there is also Phillippa Leadbetter as the ill-fated frumpy friend Barb, Howard Jenkins as local cop Hopper (with some hilarious posturing), and Anna Amelia doubling as teenager Nancy and the mysterious, telekinetic Eleven, who has escaped from a secret government facility…
I also love William Shackleton’s Dustin, and Elliott Wooster’s Mike, whose characterisations are spot on. Jessie Jae Davis completes the gang as Lucas, but really comes into her own as the deadly Demogorgon, who turns out to be a lovely mover. Alfie Doohan contrasts his roles as Nancy’s boyfriends Steve and Jonathan, both to comic effect, while also turning in a deranged performance as mad scientist Dr Brenner.
The songs are perky and catchy, the lyrics witty and snarky. The music is played live on stage by Olivia Zacharia. Even the choreography (by Lucinda Lawrence) is hilarious.
If you’ve never seen a single episode of the series, you’ll still find plenty to enjoy in this silly sci-fi musical that is performed breathtakingly well. The show is dripping with 1980s popular culture. Some of the references and in-jokes will fly over your head and you may wonder why hardcore fans are screaming in delight, but don’t let your ignorance of the source material deter you from going. You just might have a great time — Stranger things have happened.
Another year of reviewing theatre comes to a close and, like everyone else, I am in reflective mood. On the whole, it’s been a great year, theatrically speaking. The number of four-or-five star shows far outstrips those of two or three.
Shakespearean Show of the Year:
Some strong contenders in this field. And also some stinkers (Looking at you, Macbeth and Julius Caesar at the RSC!). At the RSC, I’d say Cymbeline was their best effort in a long while. Stafford Gatehouse had a fair crack at A Midsummer Night’s Dream. At Birmingham’s Crescent Theatre, their Othello blew me away, but the best production I saw this year was not even in English. Hamlet at Oslo’s National Theatre was a lesson in how to be concise, stylish and powerfully expressive, and so this one gets the prize. (There is no prize)
Musical of the Year:
I’m pretty old-school when it comes to musicals. There was a touring production of The King & I, which I caught at Birmingham’s Alexandra Theatre that reminded me of the brilliance of Rodgers & Hammerstein. Then just a week or two later, My Fair Lady at the Birmingham Hippodrome showed me how breath-taking lavish productions can be. Concert performances? You can keep ‘em.
Best New Play:
I absolutely adored The Way Old Friends Do, which began its life at Birmingham Rep. At the Blue Orange Theatre, Physical Education impressed the hell out of me. But the one I went back to see again was the RSC’s remarkable Cowbois
Best Revival:
There was an enjoyable Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons at the Harold Pinter, but my vote goes to the fantastically funny and powerful Accidental Death of An Anarchist at the Theatre Royal Haymarket.
Best Adaptation:
It’s been a great year for the Attic Theatre in Stratford upon Avon. A hilarious Three Musketeers and a splendid Dracula were superseded only by a divine Sense and Sensibility and a perfect Study in Scarlet. The Time Machine at The Park Theatre comes a close second.
Best Fringe:
No, not Claudia Winkelman’s. There was a lot to unpack in the hugely enjoyable Wild Swimming at 1,000 Trades in Birmingham’s Jewellery Quarter. Darren Haywood’s one-man tour de force Carry On Carrying On at the Blue Orange was just incredible. It was at that venue I also loved Fluff and Laudable Pus as an excellent double bill.
Special mention goes to a show I saw but didn’t review in case of accusations of nepotism, and that’s Butchered by Expial Atrocious, which happens to be my niece’s theatre company. Five star-worthy of course, and it’s not just Uncle Will saying that.
BUM ON A SEAT SHOW OF THE YEAR 2023
*Fanfare*
It has to be THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST at the RSC’s Swan Theatre. I’ve seen it twice and I’m hoping to squeeze in a third before it closes. Honestly, if this doesn’t get a transfer, a published script, a cinema broadcast, DVD release… At least let me buy clockwork rats from the gift shop!!
Philip Labey as Spencer in The Fair Maid of the West
Blue Orange Theatre, Jewellery Quarter, Birmingham
Thursday 28th December 2023
Family entertainment for the holiday period at the Blue Orange comes in the form of this original adaptation of the L. Frank Baum classic. An ensemble of just five actors populates the intimate stage with a host of colourful characters, bringing the story to engaging life. Small-scale need not necessarily equate with a paucity of talent or ideas. Director Marcus Fernando uses techniques that are effective in their simplicity, relying on his talented cast to sell every moment.
As Dorothy Gale, Leah Fennell is an appealing lead, the brave young girl with decency running through her (despite the witchicides she commits!) Her rendition of Over The Rainbow is stirring stuff. The show uses the familiar songs from the film version sparingly; this is not a musical, but rather a play with songs. Spoiler: judicious use of Yakety Sax and Stayin’ Alive is made to spice up action sequences.
Giles Whorton is perfect as the Scarecrow, using his physicality to amusing effect. Alex Nikitas is in good form as the Tin Man getting in touch with his emotions, while Mike Bower is excellent as the Cowardly Lion trying to keep a rein on his. Nikitas appears on a screen as the Great And Powerful Oz, an imposing figure and a reminder that we shouldn’t believe the promises of bombastic men who appear on screens.
The show very much belongs though to Kaz Luckins, from her first appearance as Dorothy’s stern and snappy Aunt Em, to her stalking around as the Wicked Witch of the West. Luckins is enormous fun, able to deflect any heckles from the junior members of the audience with ease. Like everyone else, she’s on and off in a range of guises and accents – the cast hardly get a breather throughout the entire show.
Apart from a few tonal anomalies (Do they want us to take part or not?) this is energetic, engaging entertainment that proves the maxim that sometimes less is more.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Friends of Dorothy: Alex Nikitas, Mike Bower, Giles Whorton, surrounding the girl herself (Leah Fennell ) and her little dog too
Grand Theatre, Wolverhampton, Tuesday 26th December 2023
The Grand is now producing its own pantomimes and this year’s offering is something of which everyone involved can justifiably be extremely proud. Writers Tam Ryan and Ian Adams (who also star as Muddles and the dame) have established themselves at the theatre over recent years, but this year is the one in which they strike theatrical gold. The script has all the familiar plot elements we expect, several traditional panto routines, as well as a few innovations along the way.
In the title role, TV’s Evie Pickerill is a perky princess, pretty and pitch perfect. Her Snow White is no shrinking snowdrop, even if the machinations of the plot require the character to be somewhat passive. Similarly, Gyasi Sheppy as Prince William of Wombourne is easy on the eye and ear, even though most of the stage time goes to Adams’s deadpan dame Nanny Nolly and Ryan’s knockabout comedy stylings as the hapless Muddles. But there is never a sense of this duo overpowering the leads.
Kelle Bryan is in superb voice as good fairy Elementa – she should sing all her lines! But the show belongs to evil queen Dragonella – Niki Colwell Evans becoming increasingly deranged as the show goes on, in a delightful comedic performance. When she disguises herself as the old apple peddler, it’s a genuine descent into madness you can’t help cackling at, despite the jeopardy our heroine is in. Evans is possessed (literally, probably) of an impressive singing voice, which she also employs to comedic effect. Her musical numbers are the best of the bunch. Quite simply, the funniest villain of the season.
Instead of the dwarfs, we get seven miners in the form of handheld puppets, Avenue Q style. It’s an interesting change and it works brilliantly. They are operated by the ensemble, who also dance, sing, and play roles. Fully integrated into the performance, they add a lot of value to the production.
Another innovation is having the fabled Magic Mirror appear as a ‘virtual assistant’ named ‘Miri’. Not only is this highly amusing and bang up-to-date, the face on the screen is definitely the fairest of them all. I’ve searched my programme but the role is uncredited. A.I. getting one up on us again.
What’s also very pleasing is the localness of the show. We are given more than the odd namecheck to downtrodden areas. In fact, there’s a specially filmed introduction – Dragonella likes to imprison her foes in Dudley Castle, no less. And various members of the cast attempt the local accent, with varying degrees of accuracy (which adds to the comedy!). And of course, Evie Pickerill is a local wench herself!
The onstage band is led by one Adrian Jackson, moonlighting from his job as the theatre’s chief executive and artistic director. Talk about keeping things ‘in house’!
Production values are sky high and so is the entertainment value. There is humour, music, high camp, slapstick, and even drama. It takes more than the wave of a magic wand to achieve this quality; it takes a lot of hard work from all concerned. And they’ve done it. They’ve made the best pantomime in the region. It dwarfs the rest!
Panto perfection.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Niki Colwell Evans storming it as Dragonella (Photo: Alex Styles)
Belgrade Theatre, Coventry, Sunday 24th December 2023
Writer-director-genius Iain Lauchlan is back at the Belgrade once again to deliver yet another hit pantomime. Lauchlan is a safe pair of hands; he knows what he’s doing yet, curiously, this one begins with two opening numbers: a duet between the Fairy Godmother and the eponymous heroine. Then Cinders sings another song with her friends in the ensemble, and they’re big, serious musical theatre numbers, so it’s quite a while before we get to the comedy. With a running time of over 90 minutes, the first act could do with a little trim. One of these songs could go, for instance.
Also back is Coventry favourite, Craig Hollingsworth as Buttons. Hollingsworth is at the top of his game, befriending the audience, mocking us affectionately, but this year he is less of the complainer. Perhaps because there is more than one side to Buttons. There is pathos written in with his unrequited love for Cinderella.
There is nothing like a dame, except perhaps another dame. This production gives us two. Lauchlan (of course) is paired with Andy Hockley as the Ugly Sisters, and they form an excellent double act. We enjoy their ludicrous company, with the exception of the one scene in which they remind us they are the baddies, forcing Cinders to tear up her invitation to the Prince’s ball. As well as two dames, we also get two principal boys: the Prince (Letitia Hector) and manservant Dandini (Loren Sunni). Pantomime has always been gender fluid; it’s been embedded in our culture for centuries. Take that, haters! Where else but panto are you going to be treated to two men dressed as women dressed as giant bags of crisps singing ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’?
Also strong is Emma Mulkern as the Fairy Godmother, who appears in a range of disguises. Mulkern also doubles as the Wicked Stepmother and if it didn’t tell me that in the programme, I wouldn’t have known!
And as for Cinderella herself, Holly Topping (a festive name!) is sweet and appealing. When you hear her sing, you understand the inclusion of the opening songs, and her duets with Letitia Hector’s Prince are definite highlights.
A Lauchlan pantomime always gives us traditional scenes. There’s the ‘He’s Behind You’ bit, but this time there’s a twist. There’s a slosh scene involving body hair. There’s a tongue-twister routine that is just as hilarious when they get it right as when they get it wrong. There is, naturally, audience participation. Two men are recruited as boyfriends for the sisters, and have to come up on stage to sit on Love Island thrones at intervals throughout the show. A woman is selected to pop up and care for a hideous plant whenever it droops downstage. It shouldn’t be as funny as it is, but it is. Lauchlan also makes good use of his ensemble, giving them lines in songs and in the dialogue, so they are much more than background dancers. The production gets its money’s worth out of them!
There is plenty of glitter and an awesome moment of spectacle when the Fairy Godmother’s magic makes Cinderella and her pumpkin ball-worthy. All in all, it’s a hugely satisfying, highly entertaining show, even though the bladder-stretching first half is pushing its luck.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
On their metal: Ugly sisters, Flatula (Iain Lauchlan) and Aroma (Andy Hockley)
You can rely on the Hippodrome panto to be the biggest, flashiest, most extravagant show around during the Christmas season, and this year is no exception. A glitzier, more glamorous pantomime you’d be hard pushed to find. And it boasts an excellent cast.
There’s TV’s Alison Hammond as the Spirit of the Beans, instantly amiable, a big personality and game for a laugh.
There’s TV’s Samantha Womack as the villain – not the customary Fleshcreep, but instead the giant’s wife, Mrs Blunderbore. She looks great, stalking around in a black feathered headdress. The trouble is, I can hardly hear what she’s saying because her lines tend to be drowned out by background music.
There’s Andrew Ryan, one of the best dames in the business, as Dame Trot, resplendent in a range of eye-popping outfits. Ryan is a safe pair of hands, but, as in previous years, is encumbered with some of the dreariest numbers. Give him a patter song rather than Lloyd Webber or Sondheim to start the show.
Then there’s Jack, played to the hilt by local lad Alexanda O’Reilly, who establishes his star quality right away. He’s your actual triple threat: singing, dancing, acting. West End stardom can’t be far off. The consummate pantomime hero – if the script would let him. Underused is Billie-Kay as generic princess, Jill – although she does help Jack chop down the beanstalk.
There’s Doreen Tipton, as Doreen the lazy cow, doing what Doreen is famed for. The deadpan delivery is spot on, and her Les Mis number is fantastic.
There’s Hippodrome favourite Matt Slack, incredibly back for his tenth year on the trot. You know exactly what you’re getting with Matt Slack, and it seems his legions of fans can’t get enough. We’ve seen it all before. We’ve seen it ten times before and the shine is wearing off. “Same jokes, different costume,” Slack himself acknowledges. What he does, he does superbly: the routine with short bursts of old songs, for example. He is the perfect, irreverent silly-billy figure, but he can be a bit too much. At one point, Samantha Womack has to stand and spout the alphabet while Slack performs at least one celebrity impression for each letter. It goes on for too long. By the time they get to M, I’m ready to chew my own leg off.
It takes a precocious, six-year-old chatterbox to put Slack in his place during the pre-finale singalong. As one of the four children brought out onto the stage, this little visionary opines that Slack should get a new job and ‘the performance was bad’. Slack asks him which planet he’s from and, without missing a beat, our hero replies, “Uranus!” and quite rightly gets the biggest laugh of the night. This exchange affords Slack the chance to demonstrate another of his talents, the way he improvises around his child volunteers. He is a master at this.
There’s some confusion in the plot, such as it is. Mrs Blunderbore kidnaps the Princess and will feed her to the giant unless Dame Trot hands over all her farm animals as ransom. So, Dame Trot, claiming penury, sells all the animals?! It doesn’t make sense.
The big moments are truly big. The giant, of course, but especially the beanstalk, swelling and extending towards the Hippodrome ceiling, with Jack scaling it right before our very eyes. But moments of stupendous staging cannot save the muddled storytelling, which is a consequence of sidelining the protagonists in favour of the headline act. I can see it happening again next year when Slack returns for the eleventh time with Peter Pan. Unless he surprises us and plays Hook, Pan, or even Wendy!
As for this year, the show needs more Jack and less Slack!
The Swan Theatre, Stratford upon Avon, Saturday 16th December 2023
I often think that the shows in the RSC’s Swan Theatre are better than those in the main house, and then hot on the heels of the excellent Cowbois along comes this one to confirm my bias. It’s an updated version of Thomas Heywood’s comedy, first published back in 1631, although the action takes place in 1597. Adaptor-director Isobel McArthur keeps the period but shows us it through a contemporary lens. For example, the costumes are a hybrid of times, a red tracksuit is accessorised by a ruff, a full doublet and hose is covered by a mackintosh. It serves to make the play instantly accessible and underlines the similarities between then and now, in a shorthand, social commentary kind of way.
The setting is The Dog And Arsehole, a Plymouth pub, where ratcatcher-cum-barmaid Liz dispenses drinks and sorts people’s lives out. She has a healing quality and an effect on all sorts, redeeming them, making them better human beings. She does this in an almost offhand manner; the only person she rebuffs is rich ninny Spencer who proposes marriage on only his second sighting of her.
As Liz, Amber James is magnificent, adopting a proprietorial air to the stage and to the other characters. You can see why everyone is so loyal to her. She is funny, wise, resourceful and also vulnerable. Apart from us, only she can see the narrator, pub regular (Richard Katz in great form) and later when we learn why, it cracks your heart a little. McArthur handles the tonal shifts between broad comedy and poignant drama with aplomb, surprising us with emotional moments.
James is supported by a superlative ensemble. Philip Labey’s devoted Spencer is as endearing as he is besotted; Emmy Stonelake’s plain-speaking Clem is a hoot; Tom Babbage’s barroom bore Windbag (imagine Cliff Clavin from Cheers, but more so!) is so annoying it becomes funny; Aruhan Galieva’s Roughman flips from tough man to devotee, but it’s Matthew Woodyatt’s Bardolf, recently divorced, whose journey touches us most, rehabilitated by a few kind words from Liz.
David Rankine and a bloody gorgeous Marc Giro are a scream as the King of Spain and the Duke De Lerma respectively. Rankine also dons a hippy wig and straps on a guitar to lead some of the musical numbers – the show has an excellent playlist (which ought to be on Spotify!) and the live band, augmented by cast members, play wonderfully.
The pub-bound first half is contained and relatable. Things get a little more improbable in the second half, when a grieving Liz turns her bar into a boat and sails to Spain to retrieve the body of poor, presumed dead Spencer. It’s bonkers stuff, of the sort you only get in Jacobean plays, but we are so deeply invested in the cast by this point, virtually anything goes.
It’s all wrapped up in a satisfactory resolution that brings tears to my cynical old eyes and, as I try to clap and dry my face at the same time, I reflect how much this production has to say about the world we live in. Entertainment, humour and sentiment aside, there are important points made about war and violence and the way we treat others.
We all need to Be More Liz.
(Also, along with the Spotify playlist, I need a published script! And a West End transfer! And a cinema broadcast! And a DVD release!)
Visits to the RSC have been hit-and-miss this year but now they pull this one out of their box. A strong contender for my Play of the Year, this is what theatre is all about. As in a pub, all human life is here.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Cheers, then! David Rankine, Richard Katz and Amber James
The Attic Theatre, Stratford upon Avon, Friday 15th December 2023
This year’s seasonal offering from Tread The Boards is the only pantomime based around an historical figure, but don’t let that put you off! Director John Robert Partridge and his cast of eight go all out to present this joyous piece of theatre. What it may lack in terms of scale, it more than compensates for in terms of entertainment.
Keith Myers’s script covers traditional ground: the villain and the good fairy sparring in rhyming couplets, a smattering of topical and local references, and more quickfire jokes than you can keep up with. Unusually, and I don’t understand why, we’re thirty minutes into proceedings and there’s still no sign of Dick. Surely, the title character should appear in the opening number or not long after?
And so James Taheny’s Dick is a long time coming, but it’s certainly worth waiting for. Taheny is wide-eyed and innocent, with a lively sense of fun and a pop star singing voice. He teams up with Florence Sherratt’s incredibly expressive Cat (don’t ask me-ow she does it), falls in love at first sight with Georgia Ashford-Miller’s Alice Fitzwarren (the finest singing voice of the bunch, and looks great in a false beard!), and finds employment at the emporium of Alderman Fitzwarren (Sarah Goldsmith – who doubles as an Aussie Sultan later on, in a bizarre but hilarious twist!).
Edd Conroy’s King Rat is a booable delight, exuding evil in an extremely funny way, while Emily Tietz’s bright-eyed but wingless Fairy Bowbells is a ‘cockerny’ treat and no mistake.
But the show belongs to the comic turns, Idle Jack and his mother, Sarah the Cook. It is wonderful to see Dominic Selvey reprise this type of role: the dopey character, friend to the audience, and purveyor of the worst puns going. Selvey has gained confidence in his audience interactions, and his skills as a physical comedian have developed impressively. Experience has made his dealings with child ‘volunteers’ more polished and funny. His ad libs are matched only by those fired off by Joshua Chandos as the Dame, Sarah the Cook. Chandos commands our attention in an assured performance, bringing all the sauciness, innuendo, brassiness and fun the role demands. Worth the ticket price alone!
Partridge’s direction has obviously drilled the cast in the conventions of the form but he also allows them room to breathe and improvise as circumstances allow. It all plays out in front of Adam Clarke’s painterly set with flats that open out for other locations. There is energetic choreography by Catherine Prout, and musical director Abigail Drennan has arranged popular songs to fit the genre, with atmospheric incidental music too.
Being the production’s first night, there are a couple of missed cues and so on, but already this is a tight show that manages to stay loose, (if that makes sense) performed by a superlative ensemble who (at this stage of the run at least) are enjoying themselves as much as the audience does.
A Christmas cracker!
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
The Cat (named Geoff by popular vote) Photo: Andrew Maguire)
Rehearsals for a provincial tour of The Importance of Being Earnest are interrupted when one of the trio of actors, purporting to be a descendant of H.G. Wells unearths an original manuscript for the famous sci-fi novel and suggests they stage that instead. And so, Wells’s classic becomes a play-within-a-play as the cast explore popular ideas of the paradoxes of time travel. Honestly, any show that incorporates both Frank and Pat Butcher, the Muppets, and Harry and Megan, gets a big thumbs-up from me. There’s even an appearance by an effigy of a famous TV scientist.
It is nonsense. Glorious nonsense. When one of the cast is inadvertently killed before the interval, the second act becomes a Groundhog Day-like revisiting of the past in a bid to influence the outcome of events. Audience members are roped in to assist, and things just get dafter.
It’s all beautifully performed by the energetic trio. Dave Hearn is superb as the bombastic, overbearing Dave ‘Wells’ whose ego supersedes his abilities. Michael Dylan is endearing as the ill-fated Michael. Both he and the Cher-obsessed Amy Revelle perform a cavalcade of characters, as the action dips in and out of the Wells story, caught in a loop where each variation fails to save Michael’s life.
Of course, it takes brains to be this frivolous. The script by Steven Canny and John Nicholson is as inventive as Wells’s protagonist, and director Orla O’Loughlin doesn’t miss a trick to get laughs from this bickering trio. Lines are blurred between the fiction of the story and the ‘reality’ of the performance.
We are promised our view of the world will be changed. A bold claim but, if after all the laughter has subsided, I think of anything other than the brilliance of what I’ve just witnessed, it’s something along the lines of: we none of us know exactly when our time is up so we should make the most of the time we have. We can’t go back and do things over. And, judging by the mess these three get into, that’s a good thing!
Gatehouse Theatre, Stafford, Tuesday 12th December 2023
Beauty and the Beast has increased in popularity as a pantomime since the 1991 release of Disney’s animated feature film and, inevitably, audience perceptions and expectations will be coloured by the pervasiveness of that version. Of course, for copyright reasons at least, there have to be differences in any non-Disney version, for example the Gaston figure is here called Benedict Bourbon… More importantly, the film is not a pantomime, so the story must be shaped to fit this most theatrical of genres.
It begins, like all good pantos, with the good fairy character – here, Wendy the Enchantress (Wendy Abrahams), warming us up with some exposition via rhyming couplets, and Theo the Mouse, to whom she plays straight man. There’s a bit of low-key comic business with some balloons before things get going for real, and an exuberant chorus of villagers dance the opening number. On lead vocals is Celyn Cartwright as Belle, bringing beauty to be sure, but also breathing life into a somewhat one-dimensional role. She is never short of appealing whenever she appears.
The star billing is TV’s Mark Rhodes (of Sam and Mark fame – he must have had Sam surgically removed) as French Frank, who is about as gallic as faggots and peas. Rhodes is an accomplished comic performer, instantly befriending the audience and never missing an opportunity to overact and exaggerate his expressions. He is teamed with David Phipps-Davis as his mother, Dame Madeline Marzipan, and they work hard to wring laughs out of every moment. Phipps-Davis is a consummate dame, with a touch of Alan Carr to his delivery, and a range of eye-popping costumes all based around cakes and confectionery. The sweetness is countered by his acidic delivery. He and Rhodes are the jewels in this panto’s crown.
Neil Moors hams it up beautifully as the vain and boastful Benedict Bourbon, ostensibly the villain of the piece. But then we have Prince Pierre (Jonathan Alden) who has been beastified by Wendy the Enchantress. He too wants Belle for his own selfish reasons, and so we end up with a show with two villainous types, only one of which we are expected to boo. Both Moors and Alden have fine, deep singing voices, but it’s odd to applaud a baddie in case it encourages them. Also, having the good fairy and friend of the audience mete out punishment and turn the selfish prince into the Beast doesn’t quite sit right. She doesn’t treat anyone else with such severity.
Perhaps I’m overthinking it. We have to accept the tonal gear changes between the drama of the plot and the daftness of the genre. I’m tempted to say it’s the nature of the beast. The second half opens up with a cheerful production number, ELO’s Mr Blue Sky, which seems odd given that our heroine has just been imprisoned in the Beast’s chateau for the rest of her days! I would have gone to the two eponymous characters and their burgeoning relationship, but what do I know?
Written by king of pantomime, Eric Potts, the show has something for everyone. There are plenty of traditional panto routines for purists like myself, including a slapstick scene involving a couple of mops and a bath tub of ‘slosh’ that is hilarious in its simplicity, and a rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas is uproarious fun. The script is a goldmine of groanworthy jokes. There is daftness for the kids and juvenile double entendres for the grown-ups. Every member of the cast rises to the comedic overplaying necessary to pull off this kind of material. Wink Taylor’s Professor Potage (Belle’s crackpot inventor father) is great at physical comedy, and more could be made of this – although of course, he never appears on stage with Theo the Mouse, for some reason…
The emphasis is on fun, and in that regard, this glittering gala of a show certainly delivers. Fairy tale magic with traditional flair guaranteed to brighten up these dark winter evenings. That’s the beauty of panto!
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Wendy Abrahams, Mark Rhodes, Celyn Cartwright, Jonathan Alden, and Neil Moors
The Bear Pit Theatre, Stratford upon Avon, Wednesday 6th December 2023
David Wood’s masterly adaptation of the Roald Dahl classic children’s book offers many challenges for theatrical production, and so part of the fun for me is waiting to see how key scenes will be staged: the shark attack, the hundreds of seagulls, the giant peach itself… Director Emily Myerscough works wonders in the Bear Pit’s intimate space, relying on the complicity of that most useful theatrical resource, the audience’s imagination.
Wood’s version begins at the very end of the story, so we learn the characters’ fates from the off. A New York City tour guide (Barry Purchase-Rathbone) starts us off, a kind of warm-up man to set the scene, although I can’t for the life of me work out why he doesn’t have a New York or even a generically American accent to provide local colour. But before I can waste any more time wondering about the tour guide’s back story, the main characters are upon us and we are struck by the excellence of Elizabeth Foster’s costume designs and Olivia Powell’s make-up. The human-sized insects are wonderfully realised: Earthworm’s padded sleeping bag, Miss Spider’s ‘coat of arms’, Centipede’s ‘coat of legs’… Luckily, the performances match the vibrancy of the clothing.
The story centres around orphan James who lost his parents in a hilarious rhinoceros attack in central London. The poor boy now resides with his evil aunts in a kind of Cinderella set-up. The ugly sisters make James do all their chores and abuse him terribly (mostly verbally) for the privilege. Bearing the Dickensian names of Sponge and Spiker, they are played to the hilt by Pamela Hickson and Dee Alder respectively. They may be the villains of the piece but we laugh we delight at every insulting turn of phrase. Cruelty to children can be funny? Dahl’s writing never shied away from darkness, making it palatable to us with humour.
Other audience favourites include Tom Purchase-Rathbone’s pesky Centipede, whose rivalry with Steve Bizley’s bald, blind and Brummie Earthworm is a running joke. Emma Beasley’s Miss Spider oozes French chic while Zoe Mortimer’s likeable Ladybird is a tad underused by the script. (Don’t expect to see Glow Worm – she’s been cut!)
A quartet of young girls (Paige Hopper, Madison Griffiths, Hattie Jamieson, and Sophie Sparks) support the main action, with physical theatre, prop wrangling, and some amusing character cameos, but leading the cast of adults is Hal Sandle-Keynes as the titular James.
Having child actors as protagonists is always a gamble (the RSC chickened out this year with grown-ups playing much younger) but from the get-go we can relax. We are in safe hands with Hal, who is an assured and confident stage presence, charming and funny, and more than able of holding his own up against more seasoned performers. He is an absolute joy.
There are original songs, which are serviceable but non-descript. There are points where the music drowns out the lyrics, despite the energy and commitment of the performers. Much more effective is the reciting of Dahl’s verses as spoken word.
There is panto-style audience participation, but in a non-threatening, non-tiresome way. It runs a little short (90 minutes including the interval) but even so, it feels like excellent value. All in all, it’s an engaging and entertaining evening, with plenty of laughs and an absence of sentimentality. The message comes through loud and clear: sometimes found family loves us better than those with whom we share genes.
I believe the rest of the run is just about sold out, and quite right too. You won’t find a better stage adaptation of a children’s classic in town this season.
1000 Trades, Jewellery Quarter, Birmingham, Saturday 2nd December 2023
This two-hander by Marek Horn first appeared in Edinburgh in 2019. Now, Wax & Wane Theatre Company bring it to a room above a pub in Birmingham. And it’s a good fit.
A pair of friends/lovers, Nell and Oscar, meet on a Dorset beach in a series of scenes. The twist is that centuries pass between each meeting, and their exchanges reflect the changes in society, with regard to the role of women in particular. It begins in the 17th Century, a time where the beach is Nell’s only refuge, the only place where she can be herself. For Oscar, it’s a place of leisure; he has other possibilities, other irons in the fire, not least being at university.
Horn’s script is purely anachronistic. No thees and thous to be had. The effect is to ground us in the now, with the historical setting an excuse to air certain views. It’s also very funny.
We move on to the 19th Century, then to between World Wars – Before the play brings us up to the present day, Oscar has something of a meltdown. There has been a blurring of lines throughout: what’s performed, what’s happening in the room… but here it’s at its most arch. Except this is as scripted as the rest of it. The point being, with Nell now living Oscar’s dream (she’s a published poet, she is even allowed to air her views on television) he feels lost, unable to function.
As Nell, Beth Gilbert exudes energy, making the character an amiable firebrand. She engages with the audience, dispensing snacks at will. She is matched by Andrew Elkington, whose Oscar can parry her sarcastic barbs like for like, although Oscar is the brittle one. There is such chemistry between these two. The dialogue crackles and pops – director Liz Plumpton paces everything just right – as the characters lay into each other as only true best friends can.
The script divides the scenes with interludes where what the actors do is only suggested. Hence the snack throwing. With only a three-show run, there’s not really the time to develop these breaks, so the actors don’t become as playful or inventive as they might. I suppose the worry is you don’t want to lose the energy generated by the scripted scenes. And so we get Nell hurling packets of Monster Munch into the audience while Oscar changes clothes upstage – he gets the best costumes, by the way, and cuts a dash in all of them. I’m going to start a petition to bring back the striped swimsuit for men.
Gilbert and Elkington wring nuance and snark from every line, and make a perfect pairing. It’s a humorous, thought-provoking hour with a lot to unpack in terms of form and content.
People haven’t changed but society’s goalposts keep moving. Women have always had minds of their own. Men have always had fragile egos. The play ends with Oscar looking to the past, when he knew what to do and what was expected, when he was happy. A foreboding note, as the world moves backwards in many ways, and away from the equalities many generations have fought long and hard to secure.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Oscar (Andrew Elkington) having things pointed out to him by Nell (Beth Gilbert)
The Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford upon Avon
Wednesday 15th November 2023
John Masefield’s beloved children’s fantasy novel comes to the RSC main stage in this adaptation by Piers Torday. Torday wisely frames the story with a grandfather and grandson rooting around in an attic. Memories are triggered and the main plot of the book is reenacted, with the grandson playing the grandfather as a boy… This framing ameliorates the novel’s abrupt ‘It was all a dream’ ending.
Callum Balmforth (which would be a great name for a character!) plays young Kay Harker, our protagonist, with energy and commitment. Unfortunately, Balmforth does what adults portraying children tend to do: he adopts an earnest but monotonous, declamatory delivery, denying Kay of any joy. He looks great, though, ‘rumpaging’ through his adventures dressed like Richard Hannay.
Stephen Boxer doubles as the grandfather and the enigmatic Cole Hawlings, a Punch-and-Judy man who carries his show on his back. Boxer brings wisdom and warmth, wrapped up in riddles. We never see his glove puppets. And there’s no show without Punch, as the saying is.
Hawlings’s arch nemesis Abner Brown (Richard Lynch) has more of Ricky Gervais than Aleister Crowley to him. He also declaims every line in a stentorian voice, at the same volume and with the same intonation. It quickly becomes wearing. I’ve seen pantomime villains with more nuance.
On the upside, production values are high. There are gorgeous puppets: Barney Dog, (operated by Rhiannon Skerritt) and an amazing phoenix. Tom Piper’s set is comprised of an assortment of cupboards and wardrobes onto which various landscapes are projected. Composer Ed Lewis’s fabulous score, infused with Christmas carols and played live by an excellent eight-piece band, is the real treat of this production.
Mae Munuo and Jack Humphrey steal the show as Maria and Peter Jones, two 1930s throwbacks. She is a rebellious tomboy, tilting at conventions; he is the epitome of the nerdy schoolboy. The approach to these young characters borders on parody but they bring vigour and humour to proceedings. If only the whole show was given this energy: it would be more fun, more engaging, a proper ripping yarn, and yet still respectful of the source material.
Other characters bumble about, some dressed as counterfeit clergymen, others as femmes fatales. Claire Price looks every inch a gangster’s moll as Sylvia Daisy Pouncer; Melody Brown is fun as the excitable lady mayor; Tom Kanji and Nana Amoo-Gottfried form a crooked double act as Charles and Joe… But it’s as though director Justin Audibert keeps his cast on a leash. In fact, the ‘wolves’ are wearing dog collars! There is no disturbing animal make-up here.
At the beginning of the second act, the abduction (or ‘scrobbling’) of some carol singers is daftly presented and I perk up: Yes! Here we go at last! But the show soon sinks back into its po-faced peregrinations. Even a spot of aerial work can’t lift it.
Beautifully packaged, this Christmas box turns out to be somewhat empty.
☆ ☆
Thinking outside of the box, Callum Balmforth as Kay
The Crescent Theatre, Birmingham, Saturday 11th November 2023
When it begins, you’d be forgiven for thinking you’d walked into an Ibsen play by mistake, thanks to the elegant late-Victorian costumes. Rose and Stewart Snape’s meticulous costumes have instant impact, setting up time, place, and social standing on an otherwise empty stage. But then, this is the Crescent, and the costumes are always worth writing home about.
In the title role, Papa Anoh Yentumi strikes a commanding figure, patiently tolerating the racist insults hurled at him by Brendan Stanley’s agitated Brabantio. Brabantio is on the warpath because his daughter has eloped with Othello; Elizabethan audiences would perhaps recognise his reaction as ‘genuine concerns’ but before we cast the lead as the villain, Shakespeare quickly establishes his military credentials and his nobility of character, making sure we are clear that it is his manservant/confidant Iago (Jack Hobbis) who is the antagonist here. Yentumi delivers the extremes of Othello, from cool and collected to insecure hothead prone to violence via capable leader, castigating his men after a brawl. It’s a towering, powerful performance.
Sophie Manning’s Desdemona is an innocent English rose who does hurt and confusion well. She could do with being more passionate when first declaring her love for her husband rather than saving it all up for the final scene. That final scene delivers the goods with everyone at full throttle.
Nick Tuck’s Michael Cassio is a different kind of innocent, drinking and swaggering his way into Iago’s web of intrigue. Grace Cheadle is an excellent Emilia, eager to please her abusive husband, and Robert Laird gives a sense of easy authority as the Duke of Venice. Tom Lowde’s Rodrigo is something of a comic figure – without overdoing it – another hapless pawn in Iago’s machinations. Jordan Bird’s Montano, tasked with announcing celebrations at Othello’s behest, delivers the speech with rousing vigour, as though Henry V were inviting us to a knees-up. Amanda Nickless’s lowly Bianca adds a touch of Cypriot colour – the Snapes triumphing again with her period prostitute outfit.
The entire ensemble lends solid support to Yentumi and Hobbis. I have written before about how excellent this latter is. And once again, he convinces me he is the finest actor in Birmingham and for a wide radius beyond. Here, he delivers an RSC worthy performance. Hobbis’s Iago is a nuanced, conniving figure, with a charming if dark and cynical sense of humour. No one delivers the blank verse so clearly or so naturally. Iago is the most interesting character in the piece and Hobbis makes it easy for us to admire Iago’s Machiavellian scheming, catching us in his web as much as the characters. When he delivers the famous line, “O, beware, my lord, of jealousy,” I get a shiver. When he gets his hands on a certain handkerchief, a key prop in his plotting, his reaction is delicious.
Director Colin Simmonds is an assured hand, setting his production in the round, making us spectators in an arena, watching a psychological game being played out, as Iago uses other people as chess pieces to bring about the downfall of his master. John Gray’s lighting gives us night and day, highlighting key points of action (with Iago invariably at the edge, watching from the shadows) while Kevin Middleton’s sound design gives us unsettling tones as Othello unravels. It all builds to a climactic, electrifying final scene. All in all it’s a classy production of a classic, accessible to those who don’t know the play and satisfying for those who do.
A pity, then, that its message is still all too relevant in this day and age: It is by the darkness inside a man that he should be judged.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Floored! Iago (Jack Hobbis) has Othello (Papa Anoh Yentumi) right where he wants him. Photo: Graeme Braidwood
The Blue Orange Theatre, Birmingham, Wednesday 8th November 2023
New outfit Mad Dragon Theatre Company bursts onto the scene with this cracking social comedy which details the toxic masculinity behind lads’ banter culture. Set in a P.E. changing room, the play introduces us to a bunch of lads from the school football team. They’re in their final year of A Levels, practically full-grown men, and well-versed in the codes and forms of address that bind the group by attacking the individual members. No one is immune or excepted – except the alpha male of the group, Jason, whose line in vulgar terminology would make a navvy blush. There is a pecking order, and these boys are constantly pecking at each other, pushing each other’s buttons, touching each other’s nerves, so the rest can bond in derisive laughter.
But sometimes, things can go to far, and those who suffer the ceaseless barrage of jibes and insults decide it’s not worth suffering these for the perceived value of fitting in.
Protagonist Joe (played by writer-director Jonathan Houlston) is caught between defending the excesses of BFF Jason and wanting to be a decent person. Drama club member Ryan (Anthony Durnall) keeps his relationship with Sam (Regan Winter) secret, to the extent of inviting good-time girl Millie (Kate Humbles) on a date. Max – perhaps the least developed character of the lot – (James Taheny) yearns for the girl he went out with back in Year 9… while Jason’s cocksure belligerence is, of course, a mask for the trouble he has at home. There is a genuine sense of group identity as well as realism in the portrayal of individuals. As the audience, we are privy to private moments and so appreciate what’s really going on in the group scenes.
As Jason, Ossian Lambert-Jones cuts a monstrous figure, shielding himself with abrasive language and sexist behaviour. We almost feel for him – especially when clued-up P.E. teacher Miss Rider (Daisy Eva Quick) chips away at his façade and almost gets him to crack. Such is the quality of Houlston’s writing, there is no easy wrapping up of Jason’s deep-seated issues and ingrained behaviour. In fact, the script is remarkable. Covering a lot of ground, personally politically speaking, it’s never long between raucous laughs and salient commentary. Houlston is never preachy, the dialogue rings true and the outcomes far from fairytale or Holllywood.
Houlston himself gives an appealing performance as Joe, growing out of the laddish conduct, if only he wasn’t hindered by his inability to express his feelings. There’s a powerful speech towards the end when Joe finally articulates his emotions and Houlston delivers it with maximum impact. He also shares a sensitive coming-out scene with Anthony Durnall’s Ryan, and an exhilarating rendition of Abba’s The Winner Takes It All. Durnall is superb as the tormented Ryan, while Regan Winter’s Sam blossoms and gains in confidence as he both settles into the banter and into Ryan’s arms. James Taheny does a good job with one-note Max, a prime example of a boy conforming to peer pressure and toxic masculinity.
The girls are also depicted convincingly. Georgia Ashford-Miller is excellent as studious Holly, yearning to get away from the small-minded small town, seeing through Joe’s bullshit with ease. Kate Humbles is sweet and funny as Millie, whose low self-esteem fuels her loose behaviour. The portrayal of female friendship is shown as supportive and sympathetic. Daisy Eva Quick is the epitome of the unfeminine P.E. teacher, later doubling as Lucy, Max’s ex. You wouldn’t think they were the same actor.
It’s all here, the exuberance and debauchery of youth, and also the sensitivity and lack of confidence to be oneself. The pressure for boys to conform to this aggressive, offensive behaviour is immense, and the play indicates how damned near impossible it is for LGBTQ+ kids to be true to their identities. But all of them struggle with the desire to be your own person vs the peer pressure to conform. It’s all extremely well observed; Houlston weaves wisdom amid the raucousness and scandalous shenanigans of his funny and affecting script. The acting and direction are top drawer, and the staging is invigorating, thanks to Darcy O’Grady’s vibrant lighting and sound.
It’s an almost flawless debut. And if I’m plagued by flashbacks to that long-ago time in my own life, well, that’s on me.
The Alexandra Theatre, Birmingham, Tuesday 7th November 2023
This new thriller from writer Torben Betts is a little misleading from the off. The title does not describe what we get – unlike Snakes On A Plane! Rather, the murder-in-the-dark refers to the game played upon the protagonist by a cruel babysitter many years ago. It’s also, somewhat unlikely, the title of a song written by the protagonist’s brother – we get a rendition of it at one point.
The story begins when a car accident strands former pop sensation Danny Sierra and various members of his family at a remote farmhouse on New Years Eve. They were travelling back from his mother’s funeral so they’re all clad in black. The electrics at the cottage are unreliable to say the least, and the TV comes on at random times, tuned to a channel that plays Three Blind Mice on a loop, it seems. From this conventional beginning, including a weird hostess, Betts begins to lay his trail of clues. The astute among us listen out for key phrases, apparently minor details that will turn out to be significant later on… We know how these things go.
Danny is an unlikable figure, selfish, stuck in the past, alcoholic, drug-abusing… and Tom Chambers brings him to unsympathetic life. His humour tends to adhere to sarcasm and while some of his barbs hit the mark, his whining and whinging make it hard for us to care when things start going spooky. With him is his 22-year-old lady friend Sarah (Laura White) who is cold and aloof, and won’t let him near her. Also in the car but not entering the cottage at the same time (because of being shown some pigs or something) are Danny’s brother Will (Owen Oakeshott), his ex-wife Rebecca (Rebecca Charles) and their son Jake (Jonny Green). More sarcasm and recriminations abound.
It is Susie Blake as the eccentric Mrs Bateman who provides the show’s backbone. Effortlessly funny and yet weird and menacing at the same time, Blake is a joy to see at work. Mrs Bateman knows more than she’s letting on and nothing is at it seems…
Chambers spends a lot of the time with his head thrown back, addressing his lines to the ceiling. Oakeshott and Green, as brother and son, have more depth in their roles, while Charles is given little more to do than express her displeasure. Sarah disappears from the proceedings – I don’t want to give too much away – but Laura White goes a long way to create the more supernatural elements of the story. Bravo to her movement skills!
There are rumours about a murdered husband, rumblings about a haunted toilet, the spectre of a ballerina… It gives rise to some spine-chilling moments and it all happens quickly, but in the end, when all the twists and revelations have played out, it doesn’t quite add up. It’s as though Betts throws everything he can think of into the final ten minutes to see what sticks.
Director Philip Franks brings out the comic relief and manages to create atmospheric moments, but I find there is an absence of tension. The surprises work theatrically but poke further holes in the flimsy plot.
Rather than giving us New Years Eve fireworks, Murder in the Dark turns out to be a damp squib.
☆ ☆
Mrs Bateman (Susie Blake) adding to the confusion Photo: Pamela Raith
The Swan, Royal Shakespeare Company, Friday 3rd November 2023
This exuberant new piece by Charlie Josephine (who co-directs with Sean Holmes) is a Wild West yarn about a backwater town where the menfolk have all buggered off because of the Gold Rush and haven’t been heard from since, leaving the women and children to fend for themselves. The women adapt to survive, performing traditionally male roles to keep the town going. Only one man remains, an alcoholic sheriff who is more of a liability than a source of protection. But then, these women hardly need protecting.
There’s hardworking Miss Lilian (Sophie Melville) running the saloon in her husband’s absence, turning the place into a sort of community hub where everyone comes to her for help, writing letters, ordering school books… There’s prim and proper Sally Ann (Emma Pallant) religious to the point of caricature, striving to keep everyone on the straight and narrow; Jayne the schoolmarm (Lucy McCormick) frustrated both professionally and sexually; good-with-her-hands Lucy (Lee Braithwaite) embracing the opportunity to put feminine sensibilities aside and carry out men’s work, even if that means shooting her own horse. There’s Mary (Bridgette Amofah) desperately trying to wean her son Kid (Aiden Cole) off his gun games. They all seem to be coping just fine, until notorious outlaw and wanted poster boy Jack Cannon (Vinnie Heaven) moseys into town…
Given the setting, I am at first confused by the lack of American accents. Each actor speaks in their own regional voice. But then this is not an attempt at recreating the Old West. This approach serves to remind us that the attitudes and opinions expressed are relevant to us in the here and now, using the tropes of a genre that has clearly distinct gender roles and subverting them to make a point. It’s also a whole heap of fun.
Jack’s non-binary presence – or perhaps it’s their bright fit-for-a-rodeo outfit – awakens something in the women. Lucy dons a pair of trousers and becomes Lou, giving rise to one of the show’s best moments, touching in its simplicity when Kid asks ‘Why is she dressed like that?’ They’re Lou now. ‘Oh, hello Lou.’ It’s not children who get confused by such matters. For their part, Lou remarks ‘I feel like my outside matches my inside.’ Just brilliant. The production operates in broad strokes but it’s the little moments like this that touch your heart.
Jack forms bonds with Kid and with Miss Lillian who – after a stylised, strangely beautiful and funny lovemaking scene in a tank of water – finds herself inexplicably pregnant. Such is the spell woven by the production, we go along with this biological miracle.
It all goes belly-up when the long-lost men return in time for the interval. The second act brings plenty of cis male posturing, sexist attitudes and tension as they seek to reimpose their ideas on the wayward women, as if ‘traditional’ and ‘Christian’ are the only values one can have. The women have come too far; they’re having none of it. The rift is healed when everyone has to band together to defend the town against a gang of bounty hunters who have come for Jack.
The show has everything you could wish for: action, humour, relevance. It’s at its best during the musical numbers (I could do with more of them, especially when performed by Vinnie Heaven or Bridgette Amofah). The cast perform their roles to the hilt. Heaven is heavenly as the irresistible outlaw, with a glint in their eye and all the posing down pat. Sophie Melville, the show’s emotional centre, matches Heaven’s intensity, and I love Lee Braithwaite’s matter-of-factness as Lou. Paul Hunter is comedy gold as the drunken sheriff finding himself with fabrics – There is a moment of terrible cruelty when putative villain of the piece, Lillian’s husband (Shaun Dingwall), pressures the reformed sheriff into taking a drink, and another… Emma Pallant is hilarious as the uptight and judgmental Sally Ann, while Lucy McCormick’s tightly wound Jayne unravels nicely. Her drunken rant does ramble on a bit too long but her assertive choreography is sublime.
An appearance by LJ Parkinson as bounty hunter Charley Parkhurst is an absolute treat. Parkinson steals the show, parading around with bright green hair and a voice like a Northern stand-up. Ostensibly a baddie, Parkinson immediately becomes an audience favourite.
The wooden structures of the Swan lend themselves well to the saloon setting, giving designer Grace Smart a head start. Simon Miller’s lighting makes use of blue or red washes in moments of intensity, giving a comic book feel to proceedings. Jim Fortune’s compositions underscore the action and adopt a range of styles for the songs, performed by a tight ensemble tucked away in a corner.
The directors deliver plenty of gun-toting (until the theatre reeks of schoolboy cap guns) and also some highly effective, stylised physicality when characters’ bodies express their inner turmoil, with twists and convulsions. In a wider sense, this is symbolic of how LGBTQ+ people can feel, when their insides don’t conform to society’s expectations of their outsides. There is more to the play than shoot-em-up, bang-you’re-dead running around – although there is plenty of that. Some of the points are more obvious than others; ultimately it’s all about acceptance of one’s self, of others, and the strength that comes from the acceptance of diversity.
Something new from the RSC? In a way. But I also see the show as the latest in a long line of gender-related drama. Viola in Twelfth Night, for example, with Orsino’s attachment to her male persona… Anyway, Cowbois is rollicking entertainment. Of course, diehard bigots are not going to see it, so perhaps the show is preaching to the converted (or even the transitioned!). And that’s a shame.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Sophie Melville and Vinnie Heaven. Photo: Henri T (c) RSC
The Door, Birmingham Rep, Tuesday 31st October 2023
Old ladies think they’re terrorists. Security guards think they’re shoplifters. Their peers think they’re drug dealers. But friends Kash and Mohsen are none of these things . They’re just a couple of teenage Muslims trying to navigate their way through their last year of formal education and the vicissitudes of life, just like everyone else. The daily instances of Islamophobia they encounter are additional pressures.
Kash, the more laddish of the two, tries harder to fit in. Mohsen, the more academic, the more political, provides a contrasting point of view, while keeping an eye on Kash and his shenanigans, as good friends do.
Through a series of vignettes, rather than scenes, writer Karim Khan allows us glimpses of the boys’ world. The prospect of an end-of-year pool party excites Kash no end. The only problem is neither he nor Mohsen can swim. He enlists Mohsen to teach them both, via online tutorials, and the pair pay a visit to the local pool.
The action flows seamlessly and swiftly, with the actors rearranging the simple furnishings of a couple of locker room benches and a tiled block to represent the poolside. Director John Hoggarth keeps things moving, somehow conjuring water in our imaginations when there’s not a drop to be had. Composer Roshan Gunga’s sound design helps us to identify and imagine each location, while James Bailey’s lighting adds a great deal to the atmosphere.
Ultimately though, the success of the show lies on the shoulders of the performers. As the headstrong Kash, Kashif Ghole is instantly likeable, from his energetic dancing to his banter. Ibraheem Hussain is also endearing as the grounded Mohsen, and we can’t help enjoying their exchanges, the jokes, the mockery – yet there is also social commentary there. The play gives us a picture of what it’s like to be young and Muslim in Britain today. These boys, brimming with humanity, face challenges most of us never will. It is the desire to assimilate that ultimately leads to tragedy and gives the piece a devastating finale.
But how wonderful to see positive representation of Muslims (and young people in general) at a time when our toxic Home Secretary is doing her damnedest to stir up divisions in society.
Brown Boys Swim will make you laugh, it will make you think, and it will make you feel. What more do you want from a visit to the theatre?
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Life on the edge: Kashif Ghole and Ibraheem Hussain
The Alexandra Theatre, Birmingham, Monday 30th October 2023
Reginald Rose’s classic play from 1955 is doing the rounds again and it’s well worth catching even if, like me, you have seen it before. Based on Rose’s own experience of serving on a jury, this tense, taut thriller continues to weave its engrossing spell, as a dozen increasingly tetchy males gather in a jury room to reach their verdict on what appears to be an open-and-shut case. Yes, this is an all-male production – in this day and age! – but the play is presented as written and, even after all these years, does not need updating. Its relevance to all of us, not just the blokes, is undiminished.
Leading the cast is TV’s Patrick Duffy, the quietly dissenting voice who creates a stir while the other eleven are keen to consign the defendant to the electric chair. Duffy is cool and collected throughout, and this seems to infuriate the irate gentlemen even more – often to the extent of proving his point of dissension. While all around him are losing their heads, Duffy’s is the voice of reason, introducing cracks of doubt into the cast-iron case for the prosecution.
Also present and making an impact are Michael Greco, glib and wise-cracking, eager only to get to a baseball game; Paul Lavers dispensing a touch of humour along with his cough drops; Gary Webster, a kind of everyman figure, swayed and persuaded as the arguments unfold; Mark Heenehan, an imposing presence whose stature and deep voice lend weight to his views (it’s no coincidence that his attire is black and Duffy’s is white!); Samarge Hamilton, from the ‘wrong side’ of the tracks, sensitive to the prejudices against the defendant; Gray O’ Brien as the most volatile juror, spouting ugly, groundless prejudice (of the sort we still here today aimed at vulnerable groups); Kenneth Jay and Paul Beech, older men who become emboldened to speak out as Duffy’s reasoning takes root; Ben Nealon, a confident ad executive whose nerve falters when the facts are questioned; and Tristan Gemmell, the hottest of the hotheads, whose passionate outbursts have a personal cause, leading to a powerful denouement. It’s all presided over by Owen Oldroyd’s efficient Foreman, and supported by Jeffery Harmer as a guard.
Christopher Haydon’s direction works wonders to prevent things from becoming static. He has the cast move around, fetching drinks of water from the cooler, visiting the rest room, and so on, so it’s not just a bunch of men sitting around the central table. Often, he composes excellent tableaux, focussing the action on whomever is putting their point across (usually Duffy), and the ebb and flow of tempers is managed perfectly, so nothing comes across as stagey or contrived. Chris Davey’s lighting design incorporates a lightning storm, while Andy Graham’s sound design keeps the noises of a New York street ever present beyond the room. I will say the mic levels seem to vary between characters, with some coming through louder and clearer than others.
It’s a play about justice, to be sure, and the jury system is a cornerstone of civilised society which must be protected for all our sakes. But it’s also a play about human foibles, and the power of intellect over prejudice. It reminds us that majority rule may not always be the right course of action.
My verdict: ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
“What a shower!” thinks Bobby Ewing — sorry, Patrick Duffy
A HAROLD PINTER DOUBLE BILL: Ashes To Ashes / A Kind of Alaska
The Crescent Theatre, Birmingham, Saturday 28th October 2023
Relieved to be able to make it to the final performances of this double bill, I settle into my seat. The Ron Barber Studio has been rendered even more intimate, with seating raked high on three sides of the stage area. It’s like an anatomist’s theatre. The whiteness of the floor and the curtains that enclose the room add to the clinical aspect of the setting.
First up is A Kind of Alaska, which deals with a young woman waking up in a hospital bed after being asleep for twenty-nine years. Seated on a bedside chair is a man in a suit. As their conversation develops, her plight becomes clearer, and so does his identity. Naturally, she is disoriented at first, believing she’s still a young girl. Pinter creates an instant sense of mystery, but there’s humour there too with a touch of darkness beneath the surface. She is lively, talkative and passionate in contrast with his reserve and aloofness. It’s almost Beckettian.
She speaks in everyday cliches with the occasional poetic turn of phrase. Pinter’s language draws us in with the commonplace and keeps us at bay with artifice, so like the woman in the bed, our grasp of the situation ebbs and flows.
Kate Owen is captivating as Deborah. Although she’s in bed for most of the play, she provides the energy of the piece. Andrew Cowie is also excellent as the clinically cool Hornby, surprising us with a moving declaration of his devotion to his patient, and there’s a sympathetic turn from Sarah Jane Rose as Deborah’s sister Pauline.
A striking piece, flawlessly presented here, right down to the subtlest of lighting changes that isolates Deborah in her bed again at the end.
Andrew Cowie and Kate Owen (Photo: Graeme Braidwood)
Ashes To Ashes is perhaps less directly accessible: a man and a woman, a couple of armchairs, a table and drinks… Pinter shows off his bag of tricks here: the infamous pauses, the repeated questions, the lack of communication, the confusion and vagueness, naturalistic vernacular, and even some good old stichomythia.
The man, Devlin (Joe Harper) appears to be questioning the woman, Rebecca (Sarah Jane Rose again!) about a former, violent lover. She dodges his interrogation, diverting the topic to memories they may or may not share. He is more emotive, she is impassive. Their exchanges border on the absurd. They surprise laughter from us. We are never unaware of the darkness, the sense of menace, in between the lines.
Pinter reveals and conceals, making us grasp for meaning. Eventually, we can piece things together. A horrifying, traumatic experience in her past is glimpsed and some things begin to make sense.
Another flawless, beguiling presentation. Director Graeme Braidwood obviously has a flair for Pinter. More of this, please!
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Sarah Jane Rose and Joe Harper (Photos: Graeme Braidwood)
DOUBLE BILL: The Speckled Band/The Murders in the Rue Morgue
The Blue Orange Theatre, Birmingham, Friday 27th October 2023
A pairing of two-handers, an opportunity to compare and contrast, to trace the development of the whodunit… Also a chance to have a bloody good night out.
First up is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Speckled Band, featuring the world’s most famous fictional detective, Mr Sherlock Holmes, portrayed here by James Nicholas, who has also penned this adaptation. Playing Doctor Watson (and everyone else in the story) is the consistently excellent Darren Haywood. Haywood drops into characters without even dropping a hat, conjuring up women instantaneously – the surprise shocks laughter from the audience – and donning a top hat and booming voice to embody the forceful Doctor Grimesby Roylott. It’s like watching a virtuoso fiddle. Watson’s narration draws us along with Holmes into the mystery: a young lady dies in a locked room. Even though I know who dun it, the storytelling is exquisite and I can’t wait to see how it is played out. Nicholas and Haywood portray the prickly Holmes/Watson dynamic like old hands, capturing the eccentricity and sometimes coldness of the former, and the warmth and humour of the latter. Inevitably, it’s a wordy piece but Oliver Hume’s direction keeps things moving, drawing on the charisma of his brace of actors and the intrigue of the story to keep us hooked.
Next is Edgar Allan Poe’s The Murders in the Rue Morgue, which is generally credited as the first detective story. We have Poe to thank for the genre, which had a bloody birth in the form of this mystery. Importantly, the story gives us the detective as lead character: we meet C. August Dupin, a smug know-it-all. It’s easy to see him as a prototype for Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot. Dupin (every time I hear his name I want to add du vin, du Boursin) is played by Darren Haywood, mercifully without an Inspector Clouseau accent! This time it falls to James Nicholas to provide the rest of the characters, and he does so in a dazzling display of his versatility as an actor. Writer-director Mark Webster’s adaptation doesn’t stint on gory details, nor on comic relief to keep things palatable. Animated projections on a screen at the back depict illustrations in a book, stylised representations of the grisly crime scene – it’s left to our imaginations to picture things in detail. The turning pages remind us of the genre’s literary origins.
Both stories play out on the same set (by Webster and Ben Mills-Wood), a clutter of wooden crates and period objects. Simon Ravenhill, Haina Al-Saud, and Nasrin Khanjari have provided period costumes, which play a big part in creating a sense of the time, and assisting the actors to portray a variety of characters quickly and succinctly. Nathan Bower’s lighting changes and sound design conjure up locations and atmosphere expertly. The intimate space of the Blue Orange begins to feel like a locked room itself…
It’s a thoroughly entertaining evening, performed to the hilt by two of the Blue Orange’s star players. You can almost hear the cogs turning in the heads of fellow audience members as they try to solve the cases for themselves.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
James Nicholas (right) looking concerned about the flamboyance of Darren Haywood’s bow-tie
The Bear Pit Theatre, Stratford upon Avon, Wednesday 25th October 2023
Now, I enjoy a good Chekhov as much as the next man, but it can be difficult for a production to hit the right tone – especially with this, his final masterpiece, which first appeared in 1904. A once-rich family and their retainers have to sell up the ancestral estate, due to societal change (no more serfs to enslave) and for the most part, because of their spendthrift ways. Chief among these aristocratic wastrels in Madame Ranyevskya (a splendid Penelope Sandle Keynes). This self-absorbed figure dominates proceedings. What she says goes, and what goes is money. Keynes brings some of the character’s larger-than-life aspects, but this is where the director and I part ways. I don’t regard Ranyevskya as a tragic figure. Her bawling and sobbing when the (spoiler) orchard is sold off, should highlight her ridiculousness, her blindness to the consequences of her actions. Chekhov himself declared the play a comedy, a farce, even.
There’s the nub: is this a tragedy with comic elements, or a comedy with tragic elements? Chekhov is satirising the fate of the aristocrats, their inability to cope with new circumstances, like, gasp, having to work for a living. For my part, I think the playing should either be much broader or altogether underplayed. The minute we start to feel anything for these creatures, we’re taking a wrong turn. But, I’m not the director of this production. Colin Lewis Edwards is, and he does make some good choices.
In the first instance, Edwards has assembled a strong ensemble. We have Christopher Dobson as Lopakhin, an up-and-coming entrepreneur who has a solution to the family’s financial problems, but he’s ‘new money’ so his proposals are rejected outright. Ranyevskya wants to have cherries on her cake and to eat them too. Dobson is utterly credible, bringing affability to the role. Anthony Homer has his moments as Ranyevskya’s brother Gayev, whose grandiloquent speeches peter out into billiards references – a defence mechanism whenever the family shout him down. Jake Leon Paul adds a John Lennon quality to eternal student Trofimov, while reliable old hand, Kevin Hand brings warmth, bluster and rough charm to his Simeonov-Pischik, sponging money at every opportunity. Sion Grace is perfectly odious as impudent and inexplicably undismissed servant Yasha. Elle Cowan brings bright-eyed youth to Anya, who at least is optimistic about the future. Danny Masewicz is increasingly decrepit as faithful manservant Firs, whose fate symbolises that of his entire class – again, this should be played for comedy rather than pathos. Viv Tomlinson’s shock-haired Charlotta borders on the grotesque, selling her parlour tricks for more than they are worth. For me, it’s Lily Skinner’s Varya who provides the backbone for the production. Forever concerned and worrying, her emotional life thwarted, she is caught between the disappearing old and the uncertain new.
The set is sparse: some items of furniture to indicate rooms, and so does not suggest the vastness or faded grandeur of the estate. Projections high above the stage add something to the sense of place, but mainly its down to the actors to engender in our imaginations the scale and beauty of what is being lost. The excellent costumes help a lot in this respect.
The play is set in a particular moment in Russian history, a time of great societal change. Chekhov couldn’t foresee what was to happen just thirteen years later – how could he? But what is the piece’s relevance to us today?
I think of those among us (including those in power) who carry on as if their way of life is sustainable, as if climate (not societal) change is not a real and present danger. And so, the ill-fated cherry orchard is not just a symbol of a vanished past, it’s the entire planet that’s facing the chop due to the stubbornness of its custodians.
As I said before, it’s difficult to get a tragicomic tone spot on. This production comes close quite a few times, but it comes across as patchy and uneven. The third act opens with Madame Ranyevskya beset by masked revellers in a nightmarish dance. This energy is maintained for the rest of the act and it’s how the rest of the show ought to be delivered, even the downbeat ending.
A solid effort with amusing moments but there are plenty more laughs to be had.
The Attic Theatre, Stratford upon Avon, Saturday 21st October 2023
For this year’s Halloween treat, Tread The Boards is serving up a new adaptation of the often-adapted Bram Stoker novel – the book that made vampiric lore part of the collective consciousness. So, you probably are familiar with the story, which I won’t rehash here. This version by Catherine Prout and John-Robert Partridge (who also directs) remains faithful to the Stoker; even the novel’s epistolatory nature is used to create narration and exposition.
Ethan McHale is Jonathan Harker, the unwitting estate agent who arrives in Transylvania to sell a house in England to a local nobleman. McHale is a somewhat gaunt figure – excellent casting for the victim of a vampire! He portrays fear and nervousness very well, as well as heroic mettle when the need arises. Other cast members hold torches beneath their chins, flashing on and off as they spout lines, representing the people Harker meets on his way to the castle: a simple but effective technique. In fact, the show brims with such moments. The director really knows how to get the most out of his space.
It’s not long before we meet Count Dracula himself (Morgan Rees-Davies), a tall, imposing and charismatic figure with a deep and richly accented voice. It’s easy to believe he could get you to do anything he wants you to! Rees-Davies’s count is not without warmth and a certain urbaneness, and we never lose sight of the immense power of evil just below the charming surface.
Alexandra Whitworth features as Elizabeta, a bride of Dracula, often stalking the living, unseen by them. Doing the work of the customary trio of vampiresses, Whitworth is hugely effective in upholding the supernatural atmosphere.
Robert Keeves is absolutely superb as zoophagous (four syllables) lunatic Renfield, going from downright unsettling to disturbingly deranged before ending up as heartrendingly heroic. Also strong is Emily Tietz as Lucy Westenra, Dracula’s first victim in England. Her transformation from sweet and innocent young thing to bloodthirsty undead thing is truly chilling. Similarly, the excellent Rosie Coles goes from elegantly poised young woman to tormented and desperate victim as Harker’s wife Mina falls foul of Dracula’s predations.
Pete Meredith makes a stolid and reliable Doctor John Seward, while Dominic Selvey convinces as the upright and devoted Arthur, Lucy’s fiancé. There is some confusion, probably just on my part, about who exactly was going to marry the girl, but I don’t let that get in the way of my enjoyment.
Director John-Robert Partridge appears as anti-vampire expert Professor Van Helsing without overdoing the Dutch intonations. Authoritative, even when making far-fetched claims, Partridge brings a soupcon of humour to proceedings – but not too much. The emphasis here is on the creation of atmosphere. We are kept on edge by sudden outbursts and loud noises. We are plunged into complete darkness for a terrifying soundscape of screams and wicked laughter. As ever the lighting and sound designs (both by Kat Murray) are huge assets in extending the cosy confines of the Attic Theatre beyond the limits of the performance space. The music drives the action scenes like an 80s horror film (but I question the choice of pre-show and interval tracks. Thriller and The Time Warp are far too upbeat and fun for the atmosphere the show expends a lot of effort in trying to create!)
Played out in front of a substantial and suitably gothic set (designed by Adam Clarke – Sue Kent helped him to construct it) this is a gripping production of a well-worn classic. Surprisingly, it’s somewhat lacking in blood and gore – for practical reasons, I suspect – and the script is a little repetitive.
All in all though, this Dracula doesn’t suck!
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Morgan Rees-Davies regarding Rosie Coles as a snack (Photo: Andrew Maguire Photography)
Disney’s big hit animated feature, Frozen, got the Broadway treatment a few years ago, because of course it did. Now it appears in Norway in this new production and it seems fitting for a story set in the fictional Norwegian kingdom of Arendelle. Appropriate rather than appropriation.
It’s the story of two sisters, the elder of whom becomes Queen after their parents are lost in a shipwreck. The trouble is the new ruler has the power to conjure and control ice. Branded a monster, she is chased from the city. Her emotional state plunges the realm into a seemingly endless winter. It falls to the younger sister to venture across the frozen landscape to break the spell and bring her sister home.
Yes, it’s based on (or rather, suggested by) Hans Christian Andersen’s The Snow Queen but it has been Disneyfied almost out of recognition by scriptwriter Jennifer Lee.
Leading the cast as the two sisters are Mimmi Tamba as Elsa and Ina Svenningdal as Anna. Tamba convinces as the troubled young woman, with snowflakes appearing as she winds her hands. The practical effects in this show are impressive, with windows blowing open and scenery cracking apart, but never more so than in Elsa’s transformation scene in a reveal that would gag many a drag queen. Tamba’s real special power lies in her voice. A highlight is when she belts out hit song Let It Go (Det må ut!) Never mind all the wintry weather, this is what gives me the shivers.
Ina Svenningdal’s Anna is the backbone of the show, providing most of the humour and the heart, with a touch of Dawn French in her delivery and demeanour. We take to her at once.
Then along comes Olaf, the living snowman in the form of an ingenious puppet operated and voiced by the marvellous Mathias Augustad Ambjør. Even though the facial features are fixed, Ambjør renders the little snowman as expressive as his human counterparts. When things are reaching crisis point and Olaf literally goes to pieces, I am surprised by the emotional impact this moment has.
Also in fine voice is Espen Bråten Kristofferson as dashing Prince Hans, and Hans Magnus Hilderhavn Rye as Kristoffer. Kaia Varjord is mutely and amusingly expressive as Kristoffer’s reindeer sidekick Svein.
Director Gísli Örn Gudnason delivers the magic of the story, successfully translated from the animated to the theatrical. Yes, there’s a corporate feel to the production but this version has a distinctly Norwegian flavour.
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