All posts by Edward Lukes

“Abducting Diana” at the Hen and Chickens Theatre

The works of recently deceased Italian playwright Dario Fo are seldom performed in London these days, so a chance to see his bizarre blend of farce and politics should usually be seized upon. This mid-80s story of a kidnapped media mogul shows off his distinctive writing and indicates his work’s influence. The adaptation by Stephen Stenning is credible, if light on satire, with some nice touches to relocate the play to the UK. Stenning captures a crazy spirit that plays with an audience, which should lead to an invigorating anarchy. Unfortunately, the production itself is not a success.

Po’s work referenced commedia dell’arte, a tradition admittedly difficult to translate. But the bungling criminals here come too close to Punch and Judy. There’s no grace, no finesse that might lead you to relax and laugh – instead the show becomes difficult to watch. The role of a clergyman is similarly tricky. In Italy it might pack a punch, but Jake William Francis’s depiction is too timid. Having a man play Diana’s mother is smart, putting him in a twin set and pearls OK but in the role – and in heels – Brian Eastty looks so uncomfortable it is painful.

This is an ambitious play, with electrocutions and an exorcism. Ironically for a piece that sets the rich and the poor against each other, plenty of cash might have helped. Without strong technical backup, any production is going to struggle. But making excuses is patronising. A lot of the comic timing is off, and the physical comedy poor. The jokes aren’t bad… but I didn’t laugh once. Elena Clements does well as the lead – she’s a confident performer who suits the role – and Nicholas Bright impresses as his part in the plot twists and turns. There are dark, sexy, undertones that could challenge and disturb, but director Michael Ward seems happy to leave the play as a comfy comedy. And the biggest problem is that the pace is too slow, waiting for laughs that don’t arrive. The audience shouldn’t pause for incredulity to set in – here gaps are plentiful and the result awkward.

Until 17 March 2018

www.unrestrictedview.co.uk

“Network” at the National Theatre

Bryan Cranston’s funny, moving and truly magnetic star turn as a television news anchor who goes mad is a soaring success. And there are strong performances from Douglas Henshall and Michelle Dockery as TV executives fighting to profit from or protect Beale, while they start a romantic affair. A large supporting cast are on hand to broadcast Beale’s breakdown and subsequent career as a TV prophet who channels “popular rage”. As the ratings rocket, the chaos of live TV is innovatively portrayed. And yet director Ivo van Hove’s hit show has left me a little baffled.

With camera operators joining the performers, this show is a technical marvel. Nearly all the action is filmed live, including a scene on the Southbank, and relayed to a giant screen. Most people have seen something like it before… but not on this scale. Often confusing (although occasionally the delay in feedback is used to great effect), for most of the time it’s an exciting, if overwhelming, technique. Action occurs at the extremes of the stage, so no matter where you sit you will struggle at times. And there’s some toe-curling audience participation, which never works at the National Theatre. Most memorably there’s a restaurant on stage – a real one. So people are having a whole meal during the show, which proves distracting enough to watch, let alone partake in. Apart from a lame pun on the idea of TV dinners, allowing this pop-up is a real puzzle.

There’s a lot going on, and if you cried gimmick it would be hard to argue against you. Nonetheless Van Hove’s iron grip on events makes the show plough on with an arresting energy. The problem is a slim play. Lee Hall’s adaptation of Paddy Chayefsky’s film is too conservative, pinning the play in its 1970s moment, when we all know how much the media has moved on. A campaign recruiting the public to send in videos of themselves repeating Beale’s “I am mad as hell” mantra sticks out painfully. Even worse, several speeches by Beale and a godlike owner of the company show the central ideas in the piece as dated, nonsensical, conspiracy theories. Moments clearly meant to be profound end up sounding silly. No amount of fancy tricks can hide a flaw like that.

Until 24 March 2018

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Jan Versweyveld

“Checkpoint Chana” at the Finborough Theatre

With its topical subject matter and sharp dialogue, it’s easy to see why, having started at this venue’s ‘Vibrant Festival’ of new writing, Jeff Page’s play has graduated into a full production. It’s a shame that questionable decisions have resulted in underdeveloped potential.

Bev is a poetry professor whose latest work has provoked accusations of anti-Semitism. While this should provide plenty of debate, none of the issues around censorship, Zionism or social justice warriors gets much airing. Bev isn’t clear why comparing an Israeli soldier to a Nazi upsets people. Really? Why make her blunder so black and white? And, even if her position is indefensible, defending it poorly makes for bad drama.

The play focuses instead on Bev and her problems. Her father dies (a plot line that goes nowhere) and she’s an alcoholic with mental health issues. All rich material for Geraldine Somerville, who takes the part and does very well with it. It’s a brave move to make Bev so unsympathetic, but don’t her boozed-up delusions of grandeur also make it too tempting to just feel sorry for her – and then dismiss her opinions?

Bev’s interactions with others present further gripes. The intense relationship with her PA (do poets have PAs?) is clichéd and unconvincing, although Ulrika Krishnamurti tries her best with it all. Bev is interviewed, far too briefly, by possibly the worst journalist in the world, then has a heart-to-heart with a lighting technician at a poetry gig. Again, credit to Matt Mella and Nathaniel Wade in these parts, but both roles are too truncated.

The biggest frustration comes from glimpses of the dry wit within the text. There are some lovely acerbic observations on life in north London, leading up to an explosion from Bev – why all this fuss about a poem? My sympathies if you were thinking that all along. For whatever reason, director Manuel Bau stamps on any humour and the play is duller for this. Maybe the subject matter was deemed too serious for laughs? But, as Bev points out, artists should take risks, and Checkpoint Chana is puzzlingly timid all around.

Playing Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays until 20 March 2018

www.finboroughtheatre.co.uk

Photo by Samuel Kirkman

“Electra” at the Bunker Theatre

We are all used to seeing a Greek tragedy updated, and this new production from John Ward and DumbWise Theatre at the brilliant Bunker Theatre uses both Euripides and Sophocles to show the drama of the Argos royal family. As a political thriller, it is gripping, if not a little enthralled by its own modern touches.

Lydia Larson takes the lead and sets the tone of the piece. Her Emo Electra is suitably “relentless”, full of “scowl and spit and cry”. Towards the end, the portrayal of madness becomes a little monotone, with too much time spent on the tips of her feet, but Larson is convincingly cynical and inspiringly fiery. She’s clearly her mother’s daughter and the show’s Clytemnestra, performed by Sian Martin, is riveting. The Machiavellian queen only hints that revenge was the motive for murdering her husband, coldly dismissing her daughters and manipulating whoever, whenever, at any opportunity. Dario Coates works hard as the returning son and heir, showing depth as a fragile young hero, but this Orestes doesn’t stand a chance against these marvellously formidable women.

You see Martin’s talents most in a scene when Clytemnestra is interviewed on television. Introducing technology is a valid technique, employed before, that Ward uses to focus on the political revolution in the play. The Chorus become virile rebels and courtiers creepy civil servants (there’s strong work here from Megan Leigh Mason) with both parties full of realpolitik as they battle for “hearts and minds”.

The script falls over itself to introduce contemporary touches, from frozen party foods to fake news. The aim is surely to make the show feel relevant, but it lacks finesse. And there’s a reliance on expletives that reveals the language is too frequently prosaic. Some parallels with current events are a little forced – an emphasis on “Godless Greeks” is a clever enough move, but it fights with the religious content of the story as no character really rejects superstition.

The show’s achievements are nonetheless impressive. With the help of strong musical accompaniment – the cast all play instruments and sing – and commendable work from lighting designer Sherry Coenen, this Electra is exciting. The decision to show some violence on stage (contra classic Greek tragedy) and to make the Chorus so dynamic, results in an action- filled show that is consistently, if not constantly, stimulating.

Until 24 March 2018

www.bunkertheatre.com

Photo by Lidia Crisafulli

“Ballistic” at the King’s Head Theatre

Given its depressingly topical subject matter, it feels obligatory to reveal the plot of Alex Packer’s assured debut play. Which is a shame, since getting to know its protagonist, and following him to an unexpectedly harrowing end, is a cleverly plotted journey that’s well executed. This is a strong one-man show with a performance from Mark Conway that’s well worth watching. But not everyone wants to see a play about violence, misogyny and mental health, all of which qualify for trigger warnings.

So, with another spoiler alert – because the gradually revealed surprise is the best thing here – this is a tale of a loner college student on a murderous campus rampage. Conway takes us from sympathising with the character, to worrying about him, then being afraid of him. Encouraged by Anna Marsland’s skilful direction, we often cringe with, but also laugh at the future mass murderer, as if conniving with his bullying. And attempts by his best friend prove futile, raising questions of how tolerant and capable of assisting any of us would be. It’s a shame this dark sense of complicity isn’t pushed further.

The role of social media, to both humiliate and validate, is rightly explored by Packer but it comes too close to providing an explanation for subsequent behaviour – too easy. Introducing internet pornography and computer gaming is predictable and any connection to what happens is at best risible, at worst lazy thinking. When it comes to gaming, some poetry is introduced – a nice idea that doesn’t quite work but further confirms Packer’s potential. Yet, ultimately, our nameless subject is a little too naïve, especially as a college student. Conway and Marsland make all this compelling to watch. But the character is reduced to a specimen observed and finally, too comfortably, removed from us.

Until 17 March 2018

www.kingsheadtheatre.com

Photo by Tom Packer

“Work makes you Free” at the Vault Festival

This is an exceptional piece of writing from Michael Ross. Four characters deliver interweaving monologues about their working lives, creating intelligent, stimulating drama, brimming with a satire that’s very, very funny.

The four different jobs mean everyone in the audience can quickly identify with a character. There’s a high-flying MP and a wealthy banker who live for their work. Their grasping ambition and thoughtless cynicism are expertly depicted by Nicholas Stafford and Emily Bates. Next is an aspiring singer-songwriter called Kirsty, who works in a Job Centre – a role Miranda Evans makes easily recognisable. And finally there’s an actress (sorry, ‘Theatre Practitioner’), who’s happy on the dole while she works on what she really loves. We’ve all seen her type having coffee at the Young Vic and Laura Pieters tackles the part superbly. So there’s material aplenty for lots of laughs and all is well delivered. But what impresses most is Ross’s even hand: nobody escapes his wit, and you may find your allegiances shift from the character you originally warmed to.

The play is perfectly formed, which is not to say it’s easy to deliver. Director James McKendrick juggles the ideas and the action expertly. He injects the energy a show of talking heads needs, mostly via lighting design and, while there are a couple of stumbles due to the fast pace, McKendrick is right to keep the speed vigorous. Arguably, the play’s dark humour isn’t fully plumbed with the role of Kirsty – the break-up with her boyfriend is potentially comic – but all four performers do justice to the complex rhythm of the piece.

There’s a fifth job to consider – that of the playwright. A delightful twist, playing with meta-theatricality, confirms Ross’s mastery. Connections between characters form cleverly revealed plot points, with topical content on trolling and mental health, and a lot of broken dreams that make the play quietly moving. Alongside all the fun, this is a political play of great maturity. There’s a fiery anger at the stupidity and hypocrisy of shaping our identity around what we do, provoking thoughts that labour away long after the work on stage is over.

Until 25 February 2018

www.vaultfestival.com

Photo by Robert Piwko

“A Passage to India” at the Park Theatre

Simon Dormandy’s adaptation of E M Forster’s classic novel, which Dormandy directs with Sebastian Armesto, is sterling work. A harsh look at British rule in India, justice is given to the novel’s profound and disconcerting questions about how cultures and races mix.
This isn’t a production stuck in a period rut – hurrah! There are toffs, well led by Edward Killingback as the young magistrate about to be ruined by the Raj. And there’s the more enlightened Fielding, who Richard Goulding ensures is believably admirable. But we aren’t trapped in a distant past. The openly expressed racism Forster parodied is, one hopes, disestablished. But the anxiety about multi-culturalism is still frightening.

Edward Killingback and Phoebe Pryce
Edward Killingback and Phoebe Pryce

Its the visiting Adela, for whom Phoebe Pryce creates the perfect balance of sympathy, who becomes the focus of a dangerous drama. With her wish to see “the true India”, she befriends the Indian Dr Aziz, and a trip to the Marabar Caves results in the accusation of an “insult” that leads to public unrest. There could be more tension in the ensuing courtroom scene, but Asif Khan excels as Aziz. The humour, love of life, then sadness and anger are all present – it’s wonderful to see such a well-loved character brought to the stage so brilliantly.

Richard Goulding and Asif Khan
Richard Goulding and Asif Khan

The production falters at that pivotal episode in the caves, when Adele claims to have been attacked, and an audience doesn’t know what happened. Surely Aziz could have conspicuously left the stage, leaving the possibility of his guilt, and the tension that creates, open for a while? Nonetheless Forster’s theme of Panic (let’s give it a capital P) is conveyed consistently. It’s the mysteries and muddles the afflict humanity that make his work enduring. These struggles are embodied in the figure of Mrs Moore, and Dormandy wisely gives plenty of time to her. Again, there’s a strong performance, from Liz Crowther, unshy of the character’s “disagreeable” side and forcing us to confront bleak questions.

Kuljit Bhamra and Meera Raja
Kuljit Bhamra and Meera Raja

The production prioritises lyricism. It starts with Walt Whitman’s poetry that Forster so admired, and vocal work and impressive accompanying music by Kuljit Bhamra are expert additions. The “primal noise” of the cave, a cause and symbol of confusion, is created by the ensemble. The props are as sparse as can be, a blessed world away from film versions of Forster’s work. There are moments when the exposition could be clearer, but the approach demands imagination from the audience, leading to building theatrical excitement. And it serves the novel surprisingly well. A Passage to India may be pessimistic in its conclusions but, in sharing its author’s intelligence and imagination, this production is one to celebrate.

Until 24 March 2018

www.parktheatre.co.uk

Photos by Idil Suka

“Napoleon Disrobed” at the Arcola Theatre

There’s no need to worry about any tricky starter-for-ten questions on European history here. This adaptation of Simon Leys’ book simply speculates that the French Emperor escaped from his prison on St Helena… then lived out his life selling watermelons. It’s a crazy comedy that’s a lot of fun.

The Told by an Idiot company is transparent about the construction of a theatrical piece. When it comes to emperors and clothes, the deceptively rough and ready treatment works especially well. As sweet as it is clever, Michael Vale’s rocking stage, the basic props and even the audience participation create a sense of good cheer.

The show has a camaraderie that’s carefully fostered by director Kathryn Hunter – you want to laugh along. The expert comic talents of Paul Hunter, who plays Napoleon, are the key: combining slapstick and quick gags, his physicality is remarkable. Alongside, Ayesha Antoine takes many roles, all capably, then excels as Ostrich – the woman who falls in love with the diminutive despot.

The comic timing from Hunter and Antoine is as good as any stand up and, for a while, it feels as if humour will be an overpowering fillip. But this alternative history is an efficient way to look at a man (any man?) with an inflated ego and examine what happens when status and accolades are gone. Since being Napoleon is such a common grandiose delusion, our hero here doesn’t stand a stand a chance of resuming his former life – cue the single best moment of audience participation I’ve seen, when it dawns on Bonaparte that nobody will believe him. It’s a laugh to watch his new humdrum existence, even his frustrations. And, as his love for Ostrich develops, the play becomes surprisingly moving, making this quirky comedy a satisfying show that’s a towering success.

Until 10 March 2018

www.arcolatheatre.com

Photo by Manuel Harlan

“John” at the National Theatre

Annie Baker’s new play is probably the best show at the Dorfman Theatre since… the last play by Annie Baker was staged there. This is a major writer with a unique voice, forging works of originality, distinguished by intelligence, humour and a distinctive quietude.
John has the bare bones of a plot: a couple, whose relationship is on the rocks, visit a guest house for a weekend break. It’s a more a scenario than a story. Not a lot happens and you spend plenty of time watching people eat biscuits. But the play is so fecund with ellipses and questions it feels perfectly replete.

Jenny and Elias are the solipsistic couple on the verge of breaking up, Anneika Rose and Tom Mothersdale deliver crafted portrayals of these neurotic Millennials, bringing out a lot of gentle jokes. Neither is very appealing, with cares and concerns that are all of the moment. The real stars of the play are the two much older characters: the B&B’s owner, Mertis, and her friend Genevieve. Marylouise Burke plays the kooky proprietor to perfection, being adorably endearing and deeply mysterious. It’s an appropriately detailed performance, full of nuance and control. In her smaller role, June Watson excels in delivering the jokes with dead-pan perfection. Don’t rush to the bar too quickly after the second act, as Genevieve’s monologue after the curtain has fallen is not to be missed.

 June Watson and Marylouise Burke

The giant red curtain is opened and closed by Burke for each act, nicely summarising Baker’s extreme and playful approach to naturalism. The dialogue rings true, even when there are flights of fancy, and the pacing is slow, emphasised by a ticking clock and Peter Mumford’s lighting design. Restraint is the key, which places the burden on the cast and director James Macdonald. Resisting temptation, not an action feels rushed, as that would break the spell. John has a strange magic.

This is a three-hour play that doesn’t feel a moment too long. The one-room set with its excess of gewgaws comes to fascinate as it embodies Mertis’ object-orientated ontology. From the dolls she collects to the sunsets she contemplates, all matter is alive. Talk of ghosts and the battle of Gettysburg, along with personal histories full of playful parallels, are all toyed with – and debunked. Downright puzzles and unanswered questions abound. Here is a real naturalism – a new kind – that creates a play unlike any other.

Until 3 March 2018

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Stephen Cummiskey

“The Moor” at the Old Red Lion Theatre

If you’re looking for a good little thriller for these long dark nights this new play by Catherine Lucie serves smart chills. It’s the story of Bronagh, a new mother in an unhappy relationship, who lives an isolated existence and suffers a mental breakdown after a drunken night that is connected – possibly – to a disappearance.

It’s a twisty plot, not to be spoiled, but it’s clear from the start, as she struggles with dreams, myths and memories, that Bronagh is not a reliable narrator. How much and how consciously she manipulates recollections remains the tantalising open question. Psychology and a suggestion of the supernatural are all juggled well by director Blythe Stewart, with the aid of Holly Pigott’s superb set of rotating screens, and some nicely creepy aural contributions from Anna Clock.

There’s some physics, too, via a book Bronagh has read that seems, understandably, to have further addled her brain. This is an interesting avenue that needs clearer elaboration to help the audience a bit. The dialogue isn’t flawless (there’s a ‘gee whizz’), and both male roles could have more depth – a policeman investigating the missing person lacks a dangerous edge. The seeds are there and I wonder if some editing has been too ruthless? Meanwhile, Bronagh’s partner is too generic a “bad sort” and too gullible. Both roles are well performed, by Pat Magnanti and Oliver Britten respectively, but the play is short and they could have easily been extended.

In the lead role Jill McAusland does an excellent job with a fascinating character. Is Bronagh “not clever enough” or really a “clever clogs”? She is frightened one moment and calculating the next. Sympathetic and scary is a tough call for a performer but McAusland makes you care about the character a great deal. Lucie mixes mental health and domestic abuse issues to great effect, making this a thought-provoking piece. But above all, it is a great yarn, deserving of all those words that make a thriller: intense, taut, engrossing, exciting and entertaining. This play gets a star for each.

Until 3 March 2018

www.oldredliontheatre.co.uk

Photo by The Other Richard