An Enchanted Evening

INTO THE WOODS

Crescent Theatre, Birmingham, Sunday 30^thApril 2023

Tackling this masterwork by the late, great Stephen Sondheim is no easy task.  It requires a large cast of excellent actor-singers to pull off its dissonant melodies and to breathe life into the often complex and witty lyrics.  I’m happy to report that the Crescent rises to the challenge and succeeds.  Impressively.

The story blends elements from familiar fairy and folk tales: Cinderella, Jack and the Beanstalk, primarily.  A baker and his wife who are childless are sent on a scavenger hunt by the witch who lives next door… But as ever, with Sondheim, it’s not the setting that’s the main thing.  It’s the insights into human relationships, the reflections on life, things to which we can all relate.

Phil Rea’s Narrator sets the scene, a largely non-singing role, and a voice of avuncular authority.  As Cinderella, Helena Stanway is one of the strongest singers of the lot, treating us to her beautiful soprano.  Similarly, Hannah Devereux’s Rapunzel is an absolute pleasure to hear, with her bewitching wordless refrain.  Mark Payne is excellent as the nervous Baker, matched by Tiffany Cawthorne as his more assertive Wife.  Luke Plimmer is in fine form as a rather dopey Jack, to the consternation of Steph Urquhart as his longsuffering mother.  Hannah Lyons is an enjoyably impish Red Riding Hood, while Alisdair Hurst’s Wolf is deliciously seductive.  Hurst also appears as Cinderella’s Prince, duetting with Mark Horne as Rapunzel’s Prince in another of the show’s highlights. 

A strong ensemble then, fleshed out by the likes of Jaz Davison, Joanne Brookes and Becky Johnson as Cinderella’s stepmother and stepsisters, but an undoubted standout is Kimberley Maynard’s superb Witch, who is funny and scary and yet also evokes our sympathy.  Maynard commands our attention and we willingly fall under her spell.

As we’ve come to expect from the Crescent, the production values are sky high.  Storybook trees fill the stage, fading into misty perspective on the backdrop and beautifully lit by James Booth’s lighting.  Pat Brown and her team (Vera Dean and Erik Olsen) have gone all out on the fairy-tale costumes.  Set designers Keith Harris and Colin Judges have created an otherworldly space of mystery, enticement and potential danger, while Zena Forrest and Pat Dales cut-out props remind us we’re in a fictional world.

A splendid thirteen-piece band, under the baton of musical director Gary Spruce, brings Sondheim’s sumptuous score to life – I can’t think of a time when I’ve heard music played so beautifully at the Crescent.

By the interval, the characters have achieved their goals and attained their Happy Ever Afters – or have they?  The second act deals with what comes afterwards, when the best one can hope for is happiness devolving into contentment.   Threat comes in the form of the giant’s wife (voiced by Ruby Turner, no less!) and the characters find they have to work together to defeat her.  Perhaps I’m alone in reading in a metaphor for climate change at this point… Sondheim calls upon us to act as a community rather than being absorbed by our own desires. The characters have to learn to live without a narrator, like the rest of us, our endings unknown until they happen.  Once you’ve obtained everything you want, what are you going to do next? Just like the stories on which it is based, the show has life lessons to teach.

A thoroughly captivating and superbly presented production.  Enchanting!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Kimberley Maynard and Hannah Devereux as the Witch and Rapunzel (Photo: Graeme Braidwood)

Straight Acting

I LOVE YOU, YOU’RE PERFECT, NOW CHANGE

Crescent Theatre, Birmingham, Saturday 17^th August, 2022

Less of a musical and more of a revue, this show which has enjoyed one of the longest runs in American theatre history, charts, through unconnected scenes, songs and vignettes, the course of love (true, or otherwise) of heterosexual people.  When theatre holds up a mirror to life, it either validates what it shows or poses questions.  Many people (straight ones) will recognise something of themselves in the character types and cliched moments on view, but from a queer perspective, the show takes on a completely different meaning.  This is what your lives are like, the show tells straight people, and you are living a narrow nightmare of convention, societal expectations and guilt trips.  The laughter of recognition should be followed through by a cringe or two at the very least. 

The cast of six (customarily the piece is performed by four) work hard to pull it off, and it requires a certain set of skills to swiftly establish characters and emotions at the drop of a hat.  Every member of this sextet has the talent, the skill – and the considerable energy it takes! – to deliver this demanding cavalcade of songs and sketches.

Jimmy Roberts’s score is serviceable rather than memorable, containing a variety of styles.  Some standout numbers include I Will Be Loved Tonight performed by Hannah Lyons, and Hey There, Single Gal/Guy in which a pair of disappointed parents lay a guilt trip on their son and his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend.

Recognising the undiluted heteronormativity of the piece, directors Mark Shaun Walsh and Neve Lawler give one of the songs an LGBTQ+ twist, showing that the gays can have long-term relationships too, and have the same fears and doubts as everyone else.  The number Shouldn’t I Be Less In Love With You, is beautifully sung by Walsh, and this feels like one of those moments of validation I talked about.  This tweak broadens the scope of the material.

There is also some relief where single life is not depicted as a terrible condition that must be cured as soon as possible: the second act opener Always A Bridesmaid has the wonderful Kimberley Maynard revelling in her independence in a rousing countryfied number.

Some of the material is old hat (men not stopping to ask for directions) but some of it is acutely observant.  The monologue of a divorced woman making a dating video is painfully funny and superbly delivered by Hannah Lyons.  It also goes to show how the world has moved on from the world of the show, now that apps like Tinder dominate the dating experience.  The libretto could do with an update to make it more directly relevant.

The cast take full advantage of this opportunity to showcase their skills: Jack Kirby as a husband and father who has transferred his affections to his car; Luke Plimmer and Anya McCutcheon Wells as a pair of elderly people meeting at a funeral, in the show’s most sentimental sequence.  All in all, it’s flawlessly presented, with musical duo Chris Arnold (piano) and Lizi Toney (violin) giving virtuoso performances of the score’s diverse demands.

Given the almost relentless parodying of heterosexuality, I write in the notebook I keep on my knee, “Is the writer gay?”.  At home I look up Joe DiPietro.  He is.  Ten points to me!

An enjoyable evening of laughter, with the occasional poignant moment.  To sum up: I liked it, it’s imperfect, needs change.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Table Talk

THIS HAPPY BREED

Crescent Theatre, Birmingham, Sunday 7^th July, 2019

 

Noel Coward’s play from 1939 deals with two decades in the lives of the Gibbons family of Clapham in the turbulent years between the Wars – except of course they didn’t know they were between Wars at the time.  We see the events of their lives – weddings, affairs, arguments, celebrations, some of them affected by what’s going on in the wider world – and each scene jumps forward in time.  In this respect, the play reminded me of recent TV series, Years and Years, which does much the same thing, except of course the series is futuristic and the Coward play is retrospective.

At the centre of the set is the dining table, the heart of the house and the forum for family life.  Family members gather for tea, or something stronger, and it’s here that views and opinions are aired and sparks fly.  Top of the bickering parade are Amy Findlay as hypochondriac Aunt Sylvia and Skye Witney as cantankerous grandmother Mrs Flint.  The barbs fly freely; Coward’s dialogue for this lower-middle or upper-working class family is now rather dated, don’t you know, I should say, and no mistake, yet the cast deliver it with authenticity to match the period furnishings and the superlative costumes (by Stewart Snape).

As the Gibbons daughters, Emilia Harrild is in good form as dissatisfied, snobbish Queenie, with Annie Swift equally fine as down-to-earth Vi.  Griff Llewellyn-Cook makes an impression as handsome, ill-fated son Reg, with a strong appearance from Sam Wilson as his firebrand friend Sam Leadbitter.  Wanda Raven is spot on as Edie the maid, to the extent that you wish Coward had written a bigger part.  Simon King plays neighbour Bob Mitchell with truth – especially in his drunken scenes! – and Hannah Lyons is sweet as Reg’s girlfriend Phyllis.

It’s a fine cast indeed but the standouts are Jenny Thurston as the upright and unyielding Ethel Gibbons, the marvellous Jack Hobbis as sailor boy-next-door Billy, and the mighty Colin Simmonds as genial patriarch Frank Gibbons.

Director Michael Barry has the cast fast-talk the dialogue, adding to the period feel of the production.  The comedy has its laugh-out-loud moments, while the more dramatic scenes have the power to shock and to move.  It may be a play about a bygone era, but we can recognise the feeling of living in uncertain times as this country faces unnecessary damage, not from war but from Brexit, and the world teeters on the brink of disaster thanks to climate change.  Frank’s view that it’s not systems or politicians to blame for our ills but it all comes down to human nature strikes me as somewhat complacent, an attitude we can ill afford.

The play reminds us of what has been lost from family life: the gathering at the table, which was first usurped by the television and has now been superseded by the individual screens everyone peers at.  Progress isn’t always a good thing.

A thoroughly enjoyable, high quality production to round off what has been an excellent season at the Crescent.

Frank and Ethel (Colin Simmonds and Jenny Thurston) Photo: Graeme Braidwood