You can’t choose your family: ‘The Homecoming’ at the Young Vic

Saturday 23rd December 2023, matinee

Once, when directing one of his own plays, Pinter is famously supposed to have answered an actor’s question with the response ‘It is unclear what the author intended here’.

As we come close to the 60th anniversary of his play ‘The Homecoming’, the importance of those words becomes ever clearer. We cannot look to the author for answers, we can only experience the drama and take from it whatever we can. When we think about it in those terms, what is left unsaid becomes as important as what is said. Pinter became known as a writer who evoked an atmosphere of menace in his plays, and the uncertainty of the audience plays a crucial part – after all imagination tends to be worse than reality.

It is almost impossible to summarise the plot, but essentially we enter the world of a family of sorts – the patriarch, his brother and his two sons paint a portrait of mundanity punctuated by moments of shocking violence. Into their lives returns a third son and his wife, with unexpected consequences which we won’t get into here. Let’s just say The Homecoming depicted is not quite what it appears to be.

Pinter excels at building tension from the smallest pieces of dialogue and action. Max, the patriarch of the family wanders in looking for a pair of scissors. Lenny, his son, is reading the paper and picking out a horse to bet on. Sam, Max’s brother explains in great detail why his services as a chauffeur are so much in demand. Joey is learning to box. The descriptions and then depictions of violence come later, but we already have all the elements of a crime family if we want to fill in the gaps. Or not.

They are joined by estranged son Teddy and his wife. Ostensibly upwardly mobile, having secured an academic position in the US, he is distinctly nervous about returning, promising his wife that they will just be a few days and then they can go home. During the play, however, the balance of power shifts, and he is the one eager to go home, with or without his wife.

Matthew Dunster’s direction in this new production at the Young Vic stays purposeful and focused.  A thrust stage is not our favourite configuration, but he makes the most of it with a minimal but naturalistic set and an immersive experience which had the actors very close to the audience at times. As the tension and power struggles slowly build up, the real shock of the denouement is the feeling of inevitability that goes with it.

Jared Harris and Joe Cole shine out amongst and excellent cast, as the mysterious patriarch Max, past his prime but still capable of exerting power and control, and Lenny, the younger man, whose energy and potential seem barely contained at all.

As for the ending, it still has the power to shock after sixty years.

A Mirror at the Almeida Theatre

Saturday 16th September 2023, matinee

The question at the heart of ‘The Mirror’, currently in its last week at the Almeida, seems to be, how can you write a play about politics and art whilst remaining artistic and not becoming political?

The trope of totalitarian regimes banning books, and art becoming a catalyst for revolution, is a well-worn one. But with this new play, Sam Holcroft revisits the theme with a highly inventive and tightly written play, and cracks apart some of the cliches associated with ‘art’ and its purpose in society.

As we enter the theatre, we are told that ‘the ceremony’ will last 2 hours long without an interval, and there is an order of service on the seat. The wedding, it soon transpires, is a cover for an ‘illegal’ play which we are about to witness, and so we are immediately invited to ponder on what makes this particular play so subservise.

The beauty of the writing is that it is not at all clear to start with. It is set in the offices of the Ministry of Culture, where a young writer is invited to meet a high-ranking official, who appears to want to nurture his talent, and help him to write something that will both fulfil his potential as a writer, and be acceptable to the regime. So far so good, we are in familiar territory. But when the author responds by continuing to send in apparently verbatim transcripts of the conversations he is having, and the political and personal ramifications of ‘recording’ and ‘dramatising’ private conversations start to play out, the plot comes slowly to the boil, before thickening nicely to an ending which we won’t reveal here.

This device is a clever one – it allows the author to ‘show not tell’ whilst also enabling her to comment on what happens when words are taken out of context or conversations selectively recorded. What starts out as friendly advice from a Government minister to an aspiring playwright soon becomes a fascinating study of what it means to ‘survive’ as an artist in a hostile environment.

Just as importantly there is also plenty of entertainment value in watching the characters inexpertly read out dialogue from previous scenes, including a commentary on each other’s acting abilities, and the play-within-a-play element is used to great effect.

The highest praise we could probably give is that we left feeling that there was a very strong message contained within the play, but even now we are pondering over exactly what this is, whilst also turning over in our minds the artistry and skill of the writer.

Jonny Lee Miller shines as the Government minister who is trying to convince himself he is doing the right thing, and the journey from benefactor to tyrant is sadly all too convincing. He is joined by Tanya Reynolds, Geoffrey Streatfield (particularly amusing as the arrogant ‘state-approved’ playwright) and Michael Ward to create an effective web of intrigue, ambition and cynicism, unfussily directed by Jeremy Herrin.

As if to prove some esoteric point, a few days after we saw this play, we received a survey in our inbox, telling us that “some of our funding requires us to provide greater detail about our audiences and their experience”. We have written before about the subject of audience segmentation and the endless drive towards tick-box approaches to art, but to receive a survey like this after this particular play was rather ironic. There must surely be some kind of message in that…….

At time of writing, this production has now ended, but you can find more information and nostalgia here.

From Puppet to Puppetmaster: Patriots at the Noel Coward Theatre

Saturday 8th July 2023, matinee

We were intrigued at the thought of this new play by Peter Morgan. Previously known for deconstructing British politics and power with TV dramas such as his trilogy about Tony Blair, and of course ‘The Crown’, we are not surprised that he might want to give Russia the same treatment.

The title is an appropriate one, given that all the characters consider themselves Patriotic in one sense or another, but unfortunately, they cannot agree in their vision of post Soviet Russia.

Cleverly, he chooses to focus on a slightly lesser known character, Boris Berezovsky, played by Tom Hollander, who sees himself as a successful and well-connected ‘Kingmaker’.

This is a lesson in being careful what you wish for. Berezovsky, a promising mathematician who moved into business and made a killing when the iron curtain fell, sees the mood changing in Russia, and, deciding that he couldn’t bear to be exiled, opts instead to ‘save Russia’ by installing a puppet Prime Minister, fearing that the newly created class of wealthy ‘oligarchs’ made rich by selling off the country’s assets, will be put back in their place if the communist party get back in. Unfortunately for him, the puppet is Vladimir Putin, and he does not see it the same way. One of his first acts is to tell the Oligarchs ‘the party is over’. The shock on Berezovsky’s face when he discovers that his protege is not grateful and does not intend to repay him, is a sight to behold.

The play takes us through Putin’s early rise to power, and through the network of their mutual relationships with both Roman Abramovich and Alexander Litvinenko, contrasts the completing forces seeking to form the future of the country.

This is a fascinating play with an unusual take on the subject of Russia, and of power in general. We would say that it was a little long in places, but we are hardly going to complain about the chance to see Tom Hollander on top manic form as the wheeler-dealer Berezovsky, always on the go, ruthless but not completely without pathos. Will Keen delivers a scarily convincing performance as Putin, capturing every painful detail of the ‘puppet’ who wants a life of his own. He embodies the banality which must have made Putin look like a ‘safe bet’ and gives us a glimpse of the cold and calculating strategist who seems happy to use whatever he can to gain power and control.

A strong supporting cast includes a convincing Luke Thallon as Abramovich, ‘the kid’ whose opportunism at an early age led to wealth beyond his wildest dreams, whilst Josef Davies brings out the courage and integrity of Alexander Litvinenko.

Back of the Net! Dear England at the National Theatre

Saturday 1st July 2023, matinee

As any football fan will already know, the England football team is a highly appropriate subject for drama: the team seemed to be on a emotional rollercoaster of lofty fantasy followed by crushing disappointment, usually followed by a prolonged and painfully public period of bewilderment and self-flagellation.

The England Manager’s job had long been considered a poison chalice, and high death toll confirms this. And yet, Gareth Southgate, originally appointed as an interim manager, has held out for nearly seven years, and managed to survive the worst excesses of the British tabloid press unscathed.

When he is offered the job and says he’s got a ‘few ideas’ he wants to try out, the scene is set for some high drama, and Dear England delivers with a vengeance.

The impressive Olivier Theatre, which can sometimes become an atmospheric black hole, was extremely well used in this production. The large company took on a huge variety of roles, and the revolve kept the action moving. The context was set with ‘vox pops’, cameos from key figures inside and outside football, and a single circular LED ticker tape spanning the stage ensures we are informed of all the relevant context, allowing football fans and non-fans like to follow the minutiae of the games, scores, and those crucial penalty shoot-outs that form the dramatic arc of the play.

The football sequences cleverly done – the actors are just athletic enough to convince as footballers and the actual recreations using sound and light build sufficient tension to ensure the stakes are sufficiently high. The ending of the first half has a skillful build up, and not to give anything away, but the audience is clapping the production and the England Team.

The play is a brilliant dissection of the relationship between the Media and English Sport, with unrealistic expectations of the team built up for every tournament, replaced by searing criticism at the smallest failure. What follows is an investigation into the English psyche, which covers not just ‘sports psychology’, but an attempt to define what ‘England’ even means, and what the role of our footballers should be. Sportsmen first and foremost, or role models?

If this sounds serious and po-faced, it isn’t. James Graham’s brilliantly generates a genuine sense of camaraderie in the team, and plenty of humour, as well as moving the action along quickly and efficiently.

Joseph Fiennes not only gives us an uncanny embodiment of Gareth Southgate, his voice, physicality and mannerisms, he delivers and compelling and touching performance as the man who dared to bare his soul to the public and who tried to make sure what happened to him could never happen again.

Gina McKee is perfectly cast as the psychologist Pippa Grange, brought in to help the team understand what is holding them back. Her ability to capture Pippa Grange’s personality is uncanny, and she brings a mesmerising quality of stillness and emotional warmth to the role. Watching her win round the players with her simple message of forming a team, a genuine team of players who trust and support each other, is both fascinating and satisfying.

The very large cast to an amazing job of portraying an even larger selection of real and fictional characters. We have to give a special mention to Will Close, whose portrayal of Harry Kane was uncanny in its accuracy and a joy to behold as he fulfilled the role of captain both technically and emotionally for the team.

Method in their madness: Accidental Death of an Anarchist at the Theatre Royal Haymarket

Saturday 24th June 2023, matinee

Being big fans of Tom Basden, we were pretty excited when we saw that he was going to be adapting Accidental Death of an Anarchist, Dario Fo and Fraca Rame’s play, originally premiered in 1970. It’s a marriage made in heaven, with Basden’s unerring ability to tap into timeless tropes while making them feel completely up to date.

We recommend a strong shot of coffee (or preferred stimulant) for this one, and whatever the cast are on, we want some. The pace and energy of this show will leave you breathless, and we can’t recall seeing a farce that was so unremittingly…….farcical.

We can just imagine the look of delight on Daniel Rigby’s face when he heard he was going to be playing ‘The Maniac’. He is having an absolute ball with the part, just as the character, who as a serial impersonator suddenly finds himself with the role of a lifetime when he ‘decides’ to impersonate a judge to get to the bottom of the mysterious death in custody of a suspect. His banter with the audience and sheer physical energy, perfectly executed, are a joy to behold.

Rigby is ably abetted by another of our favourite actors, Tony Gardner, whose mastery of passive aggression is legendary, is put to good use here as a character who is so unaware of his own corruption that he has to be constantly reminded when he blatantly lies in front of members of the public. His constant mantra of ‘I wasn’t there’ for example is belied in the final act by the obvious fact that he was handcuffed to the radiator. The mild-mannered and slightly irritated manor in which he receives correction is the perfect compliment to Rigby’s manic antics.

Tom Andrews as Detective Daisy is a willing and equally unhelpful accomplice with his puppy-like impulsivity as the two of them enthusiastically dig themselves deeper into the hole they have created.

Maybe our caffeine reserves were running low, but we did find it a little difficult to keep up in the second half, as the madness rapidly unraveled into chaos. Having said that, this is meant to be a farce and clarity is definitely not a priority. Daniel Raggett’s direction is tight, with not a single extraneous piece of action.

Sadly there is also a serious undertone to this new adaptation, which was in part done to highlight the still disturbingly high numbers of deaths in custody in the UK right now, which is certainly no laughing matter. At the end of the play we were given details of Inquest, an organization set up to investigate such deaths.

Reader we loved them: Jane Eyre The Musical at the Royal Academy of Music

Sunday 18th June 2023

The Royal Academy of Music are doing a great job educating the next generation of Musical Theatre performers. And we are also grateful to them for giving us an education. The range of material they have tackled over the years is truly eclectic, ranging from classics to new and unusual work.

Jane Eyre the Musical may not spring to mind immediately, but it has quite a pedigree. With Music and lyrics by Paul Gordon and a book by John Caird of Les Miserables and Nicholas Nickleby fame, it premiered on Broadway in 2000, and won Maria Schaffel a Tony for best actress in a musical.

There is a lot to pack into one afternoon, and the book and staging are generally smooth and slick. The use of the cast to create some of the props was very effective, for example with Mr Rochester’s entrance on a horse re-created by having him carried aloft by some of the actors, and another scene where the portraits on the walls are created by the actors holding up empty frames. We particularly liked the way the wider themes were brought out in the structure of the piece, from the young child learning the power of forgiveness from her friend Helen Burns, to the older Jane having to face her embittered Aunt and learning why she was so hated and resented as a child. It is easy to forget that she has to be somewhat forgiving to Mr Rochester too, given the way his desperation drives him to manipulate her into confessing her feelings for him, only to then try to trick her into bigamously marrying him.

It would be impossible to include everything from the book, but the key scenes are well-chosen, with Jane’s feisty behaviour as a child (mirrored by her pupil Adele, whom Rochester describes as a ‘heart-breaker in the making”), Mrs Fairfax’s refreshingly comic turn giving the lonely house some life, and the banter between the Jane and Mr Rochester, both of whom find inner beauty in the other.

Although we wouldn’t say there are stand-out songs as such, the overall tone of the music fits the subject matter very well, and lends itself to the cross-cutting relationships of the story. As we have come to expect, the quality of the production and performers was very good, and the chance to see this work performed at relatively close quarters was a real treat.

One of the most enjoyable aspects of the novel is the way Jane and Mr Rochester challenge each other. Isabella Stavrou and Alfie Richards capture this lightness of touch very well with their initial meetings, where she cannot bring herself to indulge in pointless flattery, and he teases her constantly from the outset. Stavrou brings a serious and sweet quality to Jane, and Richards brings out both the desperation and optimism of Rochester, with both on good vocal form.

Max Levy has an interesting double role as Mr Brocklehurst, the cruel and hypocritical vicar at Lowood, and St John Rivers, the unknown cousin who saves her life. With a beautiful voice, he brings warmth to character of St John which tempers his rather cold religious zealotry.

Mahlia Chellenbrom has an interesting double role as both Adele and the young Jane Eyre, bringing out the similarities between them. With a vivacious and charming stage persona, she lets us in to the less austere aspects of the heroine.

Tamara Tare shows off her considerable versatility with a comic turn as the housekeeper Mrs Fairfax and a poignant portrayal of the embittered Mrs Reed whose cruel treatment of Jane Eyre has come back to haunt her.

Leni Linnea is darkly comic as the mysterious servant Grace Poole, and Christine Kim has a beautiful voice very well suited to her role as Jane’s mentor and friend Helen Burns.

Corpse? I nearly died: a rehearsed reading of Steven Berkoff’s new play Upstairs at the Gatehouse

Sunday 11th June 2023

Jean-Paul Satre claimed that ‘hell is other people’. In this rehearsed reading for one night only Upstairs at the Gatehouse, Steven Berkoff has taken it up a notch with his depiction of purgatory as an eternity listening to the theatrical anecdotes of dead luvvies.

The scene is set when Laurence Olivier, John Gielgud, Ralph Richardson (a wonderfully sonorous Ben Whitehead) and Richard Burton are passing the time of day, with Olivier perusing the obituary columns to see who might be joining them, then exclaiming in horror that Peter O’Toole has died. Never mind, someone quips, surely he will be in the alcoholic section with Oliver Reed and Richard Harris. However, by a stroke of luck (for us), it turns out that the alcoholics section is full, and so O’Toole arrives to complete the cast of this deliciously wicked comedy.

Berkoff must have had a wealth of material to choose from, but he has selected some choice nuggets of luvviedom and crafted them into a masterful display of mutual ego-stroking. Each actor must get the balance right. Too modest and they will end up in the shadows. Too arrogant and they will be mercilessly mocked. It is delicate dance.

First up we have George Telfer as Gielgud with his heart-breaking cottaging story. He starts well, but is soon upstaged by Richard Burton’s verbose musings on the word ‘cottage’. After a rousing finish, however, he earns a round of hearty congratulations for his bravery in going on stage the next night.

Glenn McCready gives Richard Burton’s Welsh pipes full reign which never fails to entertain, but his nemesis arrives in the form of Elizabeth Taylor (Sarah Mann) who points out that his published diaries are less than flattering to her, a fact which seems to have passed him by. His plea for clemency that they were meant to be published after her death falls on deaf ears for some reason. He has his moment of triumph, however, with the epic story of Edmund Keen’s sword, which was passed on from one great actor to the next as they witness a performance which touches them sufficiently. He tells how the sword ends up with Laurence Olivier and asks pointedly, to whom Olivier had felt moved to bequeath it. We’ll draw a veil over the answer.

Olivier has his own moment of pathos when he describes a (very brief) crisis of confidence when he worries that his portrayal of Richard III might come across as a bit of a pantomime. Comforted by a fellow actor who pats him gently on the hump, he refrains from crying lest he dislodge the prosthetic make-up on his face.

The insincere moral support and damning with faint praise is raised to an art form in response to Peter O’Toole’s genuinely touching account (a particularly convincing Timothy Bentinck) of being laughed at when he appeared as Macbeth at the Old Vic, culminating the actor’s ultimate weapon: ‘Well, I thought you were good’.

Berkoff has assembled a remarkable cast to re-animate these great giants of the theatre for one night, and as an added bonus, not only does he bring a monstrous Laurence Olivier back to life, his presence amongst these legends seems only fitting given his own towering achievements as a writer, actor and Director of ground-breaking theatre.

We sincerely hope this play will continue in development and get a fully staged production. in the meantime, an audio version can be downloaded from Steven Berkoff’s own website.

Egos, insecurities and narcissism: The Motive and the Cue at the National Theatre

20th May 2023, matinee

The Motive and the Cue gives us a rare opportunity to find out what happens when one of the biggest film stars in the world decides to take a pay cut to perform one of Shakespeare’s most challenging roles on Broadway. The story revolves around Richard Burton who, in 1964, hired John Gielgud to direct him in Hamlet. It seems astonishing to think that at the time Gielgud was short of offers and took the gig out of desperation. It also seems surprising that Burton, a modernist in many ways, would choose an actor so strongly associated with the classical tradition to direct him.

And so we have the perfect set-up for a fascinating glimpse into a creative process which seems to have the odds stacked against it. The stakes are high – Burton could have rested risk-free on his laurels, but having made the declaration of intent, any retreat after that would seem like a humiliation. For Gielgud, his reputation as ‘star whisperer’ was on the line. The central paradox is that both need each other, both have something to learn from each other, but will either of them be able to put their egos to one side long enough to find out?

Anyone familiar with William Goldman’s book ‘Adventures in the Screen Trade’ will recognise the inherent difficulties of dealing with an actor who, as a ‘star’, comes with a set of requirements that are often inimical to the creation of art. The sense of entitlement being one of the biggest barriers.
Hamlet culminates in a fencing match that starts out politely and ends in a desperate struggle for life or death. “You do but dally. I pray you pass with your best violence. I am afeared you make a wanton of me” says Hamlet to Laertes before he realises that the fencing match is in fact cover for a plot against his life.

In ‘The Motive and the Cue’, there is a similar progression. The first read-through is almost a performance for the press who are waiting outside, with all the actors dressed for a special occasion, and exchanging polite banter. By the end we have been through arguments, drunken outbursts, violence and the near implosion of the whole project.

There is a scene early on with illustrates this perfectly. Burton, having insisted that the production should be in ‘rehearsal clothes’, has bought himself an expensive outfit in best ‘dress-down’ chic, and whilst putting on his trousers in a somewhat drunken state, he falls over, causing his wife to quip that he should be more careful, as the headlines would be embarrassing if he killed himself. The question will be whether this successful actor, surrounded by sycophants, can divest himself of the trappings of fame for long enough to inhabit the unique Hamlet, which, according to Gielgud, all actors are capable of delivering.

This is a meeting between the irresistible force and the immovable object on many levels, which we have the delight of exploring in an intriguing fly on the wall experience, with the drama beautifully crafted by Jack Thorne. Using a deceptively simple formula, the scenes are carefully selected to entertain and enlighten. At times rehearsals feel more like a therapeutic intervention with the childlike Burton constantly pushing the boundaries of his Director, irritated when he is given line readings, and positively belligerent when he is told that he may choose to ignore any notes given to him. Gielgud is constantly seeking ways to give him guidance without seeming to, patiently hoping and waiting for a great performance to emerge. We know we will not be treated to the finished product, but the insights into Hamlet that we gain along the way, and the constant interweaving of the play, the actors’ personalities, and the process they are going through, enriches our experience of both. The resolution is as satisfying for the audience as it is, we hope, for the actors both past and present.

Back-stage dramas are often appealing, but to have such forceful personalities as John Gielgud, Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor brought to life on the stage which such skill and wit is a pleasure to behold. Most of the time we forgot altogether that we were watching Mark Gatiss and not Gielgud himself. He does have the best lines and relishes every one, with a performance that is both witty and touching. Johnny Flynn bore an uncanny vocal resemblence to Richard Burton, and for our money delivered a superior ‘To Be or Not To Be’ (albeit a rehearsal room version), somehow exuding both star quality and touchingly intimate sincerity. Tuppence Middleton delivered some light relief with a performance that hinted that we were in the presence of Hollywood Royalty without overwhelming the central story. Sam Mendes’ unfussy direction makes the play fly by and leaves us wanting more, with a rousing ending that teasingly evokes the start of the actual production of Hamlet

See it safely: Has caution made theatre an endangered species?

PROLOGUE

We began drafting the post below some time ago, at a time when we were wondering if we would ever blog about theatre again. Our last theatre visit took place a week before theatres were closed in March 2020, and at the time, few anticipated how long the journey back to normality would be. Once theatres began to re-open, the debate shifted to the question of how theatres could tempt audiences back, and how they could do so safely. There was very little discussion about the effect such measures might have on audience numbers, and even on the nature of theatre itself.

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Imagine we are back in 2019 and you are on your way to the office.  You get to the front entrance and there are a couple of people standing outside handing out hard hats ‘to make you safe’.  Do you go in?  Do you feel safe with your hard hat, or is your mind racing, wondering what kind of threat has come to your office to make you need a hard hat?

Whatever the answer, it is impossible to introduce safety features to a scenario without also invoking a threat.  Try the old trick of ‘not thinking of an elephant’ and you’ll see what we mean.

Like many theatre-lovers, we watched with great sadness the demise of live entertainment in 2020.  We were all dreading winter 2021.  Then, just as things seemed to be looking up, in December we saw mass cancellations and theatres cancelling shows once again due to fears of the omicron variant.  Reporters were quick to point out how unfair it was that theatres were suffering when they had done so much to ensure that they could re-open safely.  We agree, it is extremely unfair – but have theatres unwittingly added to their own problems by alienating their core audiences?

The purpose of this post is not to argue the ins and outs of lockdowns and covid measures, but simply to ask the question – can an industry that had human contact at its core ever make itself truly safe, and are there any drawbacks?

We are going to look at two measures to try to answer this question.  The first is temperature checks.  This is a curious one, something that was dismissed early on by government guidance as a measure which had no real value and might even promote a false sense of security.  Even UK airports stopped using it pretty quickly.  And yet theatres seem particularly fond of it.  When I tried to find out why, the response I got seemed to become a mantra – ‘for the comfort of audience members’.  It seemed that theatres were more interested in making people feel safe than in actual results.  Yet this is not a cost-free measure.  Anyone unlucky enough to fail this test will be refused admittance, the theatre has to refund their ticket, and if they spent money on travel or accommodation, they won’t get it back.  Why introduce something that will severely inconvenience audience members for little or no return?

Something we noticed early on was that theatres, in contrast to cinemas and hospitality, sent out numerous surveys to prospective audiences, keen to find out what would attract them back into the theatre.  This was not about government guidelines as such, it was about finding out how safe people felt.  We can see the logic – it doesn’t matter how safe you are if people are not feeling it.  But it was striking that the sole assumption behind these surveys was always the same.  What measures would make you feel safe enough to return.  We never once saw a survey asking if we would be put off by measures such as masking, temperature checks or vaccine passports.  So if there were people out there eager to return, but not at any cost, theatres would not know about it.

We found an arresting piece of research from the US about the attitudes of vaccinated versus unvaccinated people.  It had been widely assumed that people who had been vaccinated would be more confident about returning to pre-covid activity, but this research showed the opposite – people who had had the vaccine were still less likely to go out, travel, visit theatres, etc, than those you hadn’t.  This might not be that surprising – people who are more risk-adverse would tend to be over-represented in the vaccinated group, but did theatres think about this when they started to introduce vaccine passports before the requirement came in for England?

Essentially a vaccine passport can take many forms, but in England we are talking about a requirement that requires someone to either be vaccinated, or to take a covid test before a performance.   Either way, you need to either download an app or produce a piece of paper.  It doesn’t stop an unvaccinated person from attending, but it certainly makes it a lot more inconvenient.

Whilst the hospitality industry was broadly against the system, fearing it would damage the sector, theatres embraced it even when they didn’t have to.  Perhaps they could be forgiven for wanting to find a way to open safely and reassure audiences, and they didn’t realise at the time that the measure had limited effectiveness in terms of safety.  Many governments that have persisted with vaccine passports have now admitted that it is not about safety at all, but about using ‘rewards’ to drive up vaccine uptake.  Whatever you think of this as a strategy, was it wise for theatres to get involved in something that might damage their business, especially and most importantly if it didn’t really make the experience any safer, and could possibly have led to a false sense of security?

Could it be that theatres, by adopting a raft of measures and using the slogan See it safely, the official kitemark developed by the Society of London Theatre, were actually signalling that theatre was anything but safe.  Theatre will never be completely safe, after all. But can we say for sure that people would have stayed away in droves without safety measures?  Or would fewer measures have actually been more reassuring?

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EPILOGUE

Since that time, more and more questions have been asked about the efficacy of covid safety measures, and we leave our readers to judge for themselves on that issue. We did not feel it would be right to resume posting without making some reference to those times. The post above is our highly personal take on the issue. For the record, although we have not been reviewing, we began returning to theatre about a year ago, once all compulsory measures were past. And although the recovery for theatre does seem to be progressing more slowly than for other sectors, we look forward not just to a return, but a resurgence.

Art to Enchant: The Tempest at Jermyn Street Theatre

Saturday 14th March 2020, matinee

Jermyn Street Theatre, fast becoming our favourite West End Theatre, has given us the perfect chance to see Michael Pennington close up, and tick off another Shakespeare play – The Tempest.  And all in a space so small you can pretend that some actors have come round to your house to perform in your living room.

The plot is more of a device to explore the vagaries of the human condition, as Prospero is ousted from his Dukedom in Milan by his brother and left stranded on a remote island.  He learns magic (well he has a lot of time on his hands), enslaves the two remaining inhabitants (Ariel and Caliban) and bides his time for 12 years, waiting for his revenge. This character makes Hamlet seem positively impulsive.  We join the action as he finally has the chance to get even and punish his persecutors, but what will he do?

The set design makes the small space of Jermyn Street into an asset, realistic but spare, the audience are forced to imagine an internal landscape which is limitless.  The magic is not overdone, but presented in a very matter-of-fact way, as something no less wondrous and men being prepared to kill each other for power.  Prospero doesn’t so much manipulate as facilitate each character to show their real selves.  Hence with some clever double casting Ferdinand embraces his enslavement and uses it to earn the love of Miranda, in stark contrast to Caliban who abuses his host’s trust to assault her.

This is believed to be Shakespeare’s last solo play, the culmination of years of dedication to theatre.  Michael Pennington has also enjoyed a long career of acting, studying, writing about and teaching Shakespeare, and as Prospero, he brings a depth to the play that sets the whole tone of the production.  He starts the play with a mystical spell which starts the surreal action of the play, and then casts a spell over us, whether he is bringing to life some of Shakespeare’s most famous words when he is centre stage, or watching over the choas he has created.

Tom littler directs an excellent cast and keeps the tone natural and real, bringing out the humanity of the play.  As Ariel, Whitney Kehinde has a lightness of touch that convinces us she could be an invisible spirit with magical powers. She moves like a whirlwind around the tiny space, always graceful and with a gracious sense of benevolence and good humour as she indulgences Prospero’s every wish.

Kirsty Bushell is a fresh and energetic Miranda, unworldly but not foolish.  Tam Williams effortlessly moves between the roles of Ferdinand and Caliban with minimal costume changes and just his physicality and voice to help him.  Richard Derrington and Peter Bramhill also double up as two successful double acts.

This production seems to capture the sense of this play as a very personal, almost autobiographical, expression of Shakespeare’s reflections on his own life.  It is a farewell gift of a great writer to relinquish control and set the spirit free.

We should note that we were very lucky to see this production, which closed after 6 performances.  Jermyn Street hope to revive the play and are currently crowdfunding for a gala opening performance – if you want to help you can go here.

Boiling Point: A Day in the Death of Joe Egg

Saturday 26th October 2019, matineé

We’ve been on the look-out for a revival of Peter Nichols’ A Day in the Death of Joe Egg, and when we saw that Toby Stephens and Claire Skinner were going to be starring in the play at the Trafalgar studios, we booked immediately, thinking they might possibly have found the dream cast – Stephens with his considerable talent for dark comedy, and Skinner with her effortless ability to exude unfeasible levels of patience and good humour.

It is hard to believe this play was written just over 50 years ago – the theme of parents grappling with the care of a profoundly disabled child is as current as ever, and this courageous exploration of the dilemmas they face stands the test of time – few playwrights have combined such frankness with such empathy since.

The play centres around Brian and Sheila and their daughter Josephine, and shines a spotlight onto a single day in their lives, whilst telling the family’s story through a series of vignettes.  Near the end of the play, a family friend tells Brian that his relentless gallows humour, something which perhaps started as a coping strategy, has turned into a slow poison which is slowly killing him from the inside out.  Ironically, it felt to us that it was the relaxed, Vaudevillian, and darkly comic style of the play that lets the audience in too, without scaring us off.  Whatever, difficulties they face, we can see that this couple have lost none of their humanity.  Crucially they are not saints.  The play is fierce in its determination to break through the taboos and cliches that surround disability, illness and parenting.

This production gives the play a light, naturalistic touch, in a relatively small space, with a fantastic cast.  Toby Stephens uses his comedic abilities to the full, bursting onto the stage with a classic teacher’s monologue to the class, in which he harangues members of the audience.  However, we soon start to realise that he is quietly driving himself mad with his own thoughts, in a domestic atmosphere where there is no place for pessimism.  He is part of the ‘menagerie’, his feelings just another thing for matriarch Sheila to ‘manage’.  There are some joyful moments of pure slapstick, but Stephens’ performance is driven by an inner agitation that never switches off, whether he is trying to steal a kiss over a cup of tea, or contemplating the unthinkable.  It makes for a riveting performance, brimming over with energy but never showy.

Claire Skinner has another kind of extraordinary energy.  She has the unenviable job of portraying a character of unshakeable inner strength, whose main tragedy, it emerges, is that however hard she tries, she cannot instill her sense of optimism and unconditional love into her husband.  The dynamics of the drama demand her to be a constant, still, presence, and she rises to the task with absolute integrity.  She brings humour, compassion and pain in equal measure to the part.

Amongst a strong supporting cast, we have to give a mention to Clarence Smith as the well-intentioned Freddie, a rich socialist who is determined to ‘help’, and whose main crime is having no sense of humour.  He steadfastly resists the temptation as an actor to point ironically at his character’s frailties.

We have commented before on diversity in theatre, following a controversy about the casting of Brad Fraser’s play ‘Kill Me Now‘, and the far-reaching impact of including disabled people.

This production boasts a very important first, according to the Evening Standard – the first time that a disabled actor has been cast in the role of Josephine in the West End. Storme Toolis, who has cerebral palsy, commented that “I definitely feel that as a disabled actor there are interesting familiar relationships in this play, but I don’t draw a lot on my own experiences.  Everybody is different, so my job is to portray Joe’s story.”

Director Simon Evans said “Putting a more able-bodied actor in the role might have made for a more sentimental performance and Storme is unsentimental about her condition.  She has, in a way, given people a huge permission to talk this way about a disabled person.”

 

A chip on his shoulder? Shackleton’s Carpenter at Jermyn Street Theatre

Saturday 3rd August 2019, matinee

The story of Shackleton’s heroic failure on the ice floes of the Antarctic seems to have an endless fascination.  What could capture the imagination better than an expedition which set out to be the first to cross the antarctic by land, a ship which got trapped and then crushed in the ice, and a bid for survival which involved an even more extraordinary journey, with no loss of life.  And all photographed with exquisite beauty by Frank Hurley.

Harry McNish, the ship’s carpenter, was widely credited with saving lives through his ingenuity in constantly scavenging and re-purposing the expedition’s meagre resources to ‘recondition’ a lifeboat which miraculously managed an 800 mile journey from Elephant Island to South Georgia.

At the heart of this one man drama is the burning injustice that McNish was denied the polar medal, an honour given to all but four of the crew, despite Shackleton grudgingly admitting that McNish had probably saved all their lives.  He couldn’t stomach McNish’s ‘insubordination’ even though he had admitted that he was right.  What follows is an exploration of how class divides still persist, even in the most desperate situations – as a working class man, albeit a master craftsman, McNish could never be seen to be superior to the aristocratic captain in any way.

Gail Louw’s play brilliantly captures the ramblings of a drunken man at the end of his life when he is living destitute on a wharf in new Zealand.  It is a very personal account where trivialities take on an exaggerated importance – having his cat shot, being referred to as the ‘old carpenter’ despite being a few months younger than Shackleton, and Shackleton’s  steadfast refusal to admit to him that he was right.  Ironically the polar medal seems to rank quite low in his list of priorities.   He gets his revenge though in an imagined dialogue where he ponders whether Shackleton’s wife asked that he be buried in South Georgia where he had died on his last expedition, so that his mistress could not visit his grave.

Malcolm Rennie delivers a visceral narrative, full of emotion – the romanticism of adventure swept away by the raw pain of knife-edge survival.  He engages the audience in an apparently unselfconscious way, mostly lost in his own thoughts, not trying to persuade or charm us, just letting us briefly into his world.

This production certainly packs a lot into its 70 minute running time, but we did feel a little short-changed with tickets priced at £30.  We can’t help feeling that if the play can’t be lengthened, perhaps a double-bill could have been on offer – there must be plenty of complementary stories.

A universal message from The Starry Messenger at Wyndham’s Theatre

The Starry Messenger

Thursday 16th May 2019

We’ve been waiting a long time to see Matthew Broderick on the London stage.  For a while, there was talk that he might come over with the Broadway production of the musical version of ‘The Producers’ back in the early noughties, but nearly twenty years later, we were very pleased to find that we would finally see Broderick in the West End, in a play by Kenneth Lonergan, who we have admired for a long time, ever since seeing his plays ‘This is Our Youth’ and ‘Lobby Hero’, and his subsequent films.  This play, The Starry Messenger is a revival from ten years ago, and more than deserving of a trip over the pond.

The play, like a lot of Lonergan’s work, is not exactly plot-driven.  It revolves around an astronomer, Mark Williams, who feels he has probably ‘gone as far as he can’ in academia, and is now getting by on various lecturing jobs, including a beginner’s class for adults at the planetarium, while he watches his former students overtake him on the career ladder.
It is hard to describe the plot, as Broderick hilariously found when he appeared on the Graham Norton show and was amiably berated by the host for not selling his appearance in the West End sufficiently well.  What we can say is that Lonergan is a master chronicler of the human condition.  Astronomy is the perfect starting point, and we have never thought of the ironic counterpoint between the vastness of the universe and the challenges of comprehension it presents to atheists and believers alike, and the banality of the work which has led us to better understand it.  So, on the one hand, Williams is criticised by his pupils for being insufficiently inspiring, and yet he is still so enthralled by astronomy that at the age of 52 he is prepared to take a basic data entry job on a research project just to be part of something bigger.

Matthew Broderick has the great challenge of portraying this ‘boring’ character without being boring.  He pulls off this miracle by being disarmingly authentic.  His delivery is confident with a small ‘c’ – he is unhurried, he does not feel the need to ‘dramatise’ the material, he does not attempt to ‘engage’ his audience.  The result is an inner stillness that lets us in to this small, uncertain, world.  We are also treated to some top-quality passive-aggression from a master of the art.  Perhaps our favourite moment is the interminably long gap between being ruthlessly critiqued by one of his students and the expletive-filled reposte which follows long after he has left the room.  This is a performance well worth waiting for and an object lesson in how to allow the writing do its work.

Elizabeth McGovern pitches her performance as Williams’ long-suffering wife perfectly.  At first she appears to be a lightweight foil for Broderick’s brooding persona, airy, optimistic and apparently oblivious, but by the end we learn what supreme effort goes into maintaining her cheerful demeanour as she tries to manage a household with a man who won’t make decisions with her, but blames her for everything.  Never has the repetition of the phrase ‘Can we talk about Christmas?’ at various stages in the evening taken on such portent as it does here.

Rosalind Eleazar portrays Angela, a young woman who decides to add further complications to her already busy life by having an affair with Williams.  She brings a freshness and warmth to the play as a character who wears her heart on her sleeve, and the comic chemistry with Broderick is a pleasure to watch.

Sam Yates has gathered an impressive cast for all his supporting characters.  We have the legendary Jim Norton, known for playing Father Ted’s nemesis Bishop Brennan in the channel 4 series, coming through a brush with death at the hospital where Angela works, to give her the spiritual advice she needs; we have Jenny Galloway, the original Mrs Thernadier from Les Miserables, as a student who is desperate to learn about astronomy (we never quite find out why) but just doesn’t get it, as she loudly proclaims at every opportunity.  Sid Sagar entertains as the student (there’s always one, isn’t there?) who feels the need to provide unsolicited feedback, a task he is determined to complete in the face of overwhelming indifference.

We’ve got a feeling the running time may shorten a little during previews, but this is a meaty play, unapologetic about its 3 hour plus running time, and full of insight and humour – it doesn’t feel a minute too long.

An Evening at the melancholy manor: Rosmersholm at the Duke of York’s

Saturday 27th May 2019, evening

It’s been a while since we were tempted into the West End for Kenneth Branagh’s takeover of the Garrick Theatre.  The combination of Tom Burke and Hayley Atwell in a new Ibsen play (new to us that is), directed by Ian Rickson, who impressed us so greatly with his direction of Michael Sheen’s Hamlet, seemed like a winner.

It’s no coincidence, we feel, that the play is named after the Manor House rather than the characters that live in it.  Possibly the most important character in the play, symbolising the constraints of society, the house dominates the village, and Rae Smith’s design has it looming large over the action, so much so that it almost felt like we were sitting in the drawing room.

In this new adaptation by Duncan MacMillan we are reminded how current Ibsen’s themes remain.  Set on the eve of an election, Rosmer, the young master of the house, is assailed on all sides by friends and old acquaintances wanting him to lend his ‘voice’ to their cause. First his former brother-in-law, who fears chaos if the ordinary people are put in control, then his radical former tutor.  Meanwhile, he discovers that his closest female friend and confidante Rebecca West (the character who gave her name to the famous feminist author), has infiltrated his home in order to ‘turn’ him to radical politics, but is now in love with him.  Former pastor Rosmer, who is already struggling with his faith and his identity, soon has to face up to the hypocrisy of politics, where it is suggested that he will only be of use if he continues to profess to be a Christian.

The play is not so much a drama as an exploration of the myriad ways in which two people can make themselves miserable.  Ibsen is a master of the inner landscape of the mind.  Whilst everybody around them assumes that they are already lovers, we see that it is not just social constrictions but their own peculiar combination of guilt and lack of purpose that ensures they will never be free, or think that they will never be free, which in the end comes to the same thing.

Rickson’s direction allows the story to play out without fuss – the real-time action is excruciatingly minimal, but the re-evaluation of the past which each character must undergo re-writes the story constantly, with an unforgiving pay-off at the end.
Hayley Atwell is utterly convincing as Rebecca, a woman who believes she will lose her integrity as a person if she marries, but whose ideals are being eaten away by her passionate longing for Rosmer.  Tom Burke has a refreshing lack of pomposity, at odds with his social and political status, allowing us to glimpse the emptiness of a man who feels he should ‘do something’ but literally does not have the courage of his convictions.  However, we were not convinced of the chemistry between the two.

In a strong supporting cast, Giles Terera stood out as Governer Kroll, whose benign bemusement at the lack of support from his former brother-in-law is enough to show where the real power lies, whilst Peter Wight’s touching portrayal of the impoverished radical turned scrounger Brendel is epitomised by the eagerness with which he devours the leftover fermented trout at the dinner table.

Driving Miss Olive: Little Miss Sunshine at the Arcola Theatre

Saturday 30th March 2019, matinée

Little Miss Sunshine seems like perfect material for William Finn – it’s a quirky film full of dark humour, and continues the theme of child exploitation which he explored in the 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee.  Here it is the world of beauty pageants with the unlikely heroine Olive showing her dysfunctional family the meaning of the word optimism.  There is luxury casting here too in the form of Gary Wilmot, Laura Pitt-Pulford and Paul Keating.

Based on the 2006 film, this is a classic feel-good plot, given a ‘makeunder’ and a dose of reality as the hopelessly chaotic Hoover family attempt to get their daughter Olive to the regional finals of the ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ beauty pageant in a beaten up old minivan. With Mum Cheryl and Dad Richard already feeling the strain, brother Dwayne under a vow of silence, and Grandpa now homeless having been kicked out of his retirement home for taking drugs, they are joined by Cheryl’s brother Frank, who needs to be kept an eye on due to his recent suicide attempt (‘Don’t worry’, she reassures the kids, ‘He didn’t try very hard’).

So, with an amusing premise, interesting characters and the comedic potential of a road trip, what could possibly go wrong?  The production team have given themselves a massive challenge to stage a road trip in the small space of the Arcola theatre, and it is a tribute to Mehmet Ergan’s directorial skills that he manages to make such a slick job of it, but it is difficult to keep the momentum going.  Although the dialogue is snappy with plenty of witty lines, there are also longueurs that could probably have been cut.

The next question would be, what, if anything, does the music add to the story?  Music should be a short-cut to the emotions and perhaps illuminate the relationships, but here the songs seem to hold up the action.  There are too many characters vying for attention, but no individuals have enough depth to sustain the solo songs, which also seem a bit thin.  There doesn’t seem to be a unifying theme or a character arc for the family. Considering the show is all about the tawdry glamour of talent shows, we couldn’t help feeling there were some missed opportunities here.

The cast were excellent overall, and it was hard to fault the ensemble playing.  We did feel that Laura Pitt-Pulford was a little under-used – perhaps if William Finn had been more involved he might have written her an extra number to show off her considerable talents.  Paul Keating, last seen by us in the Goodbye Girl, brings a melancholic and neurotic edge to the show, nicely offset by Gary Wilmot’s outrageous Grandad – it’s a gift of a part and he enjoys it to the full.  The supporting cast also provides a few gems – Ian Carlyle as the compere perfectly captures the small-time, preening local businessman looking for glory, whilst Imelda Warren-Green gives us the world’s most unempathic ‘bereavement co-ordinator’, and a beauty queen whose estimation of her own talent is optimistic at best.