Tag Archives: Alan Williams

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“Sunset Boulevard” at the Savoy Theatre

Everything about Jamie Lloyd’s new production of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s 1993 musical is exciting. Everything. Lloyd is one of the smartest directors around: never scared of entertaining, thrilling and challenging an audience – and here, everything he has touched benefits.

First, the piece. Lloyd has tackled Lloyd Webber before, with Evita, and it is a thrill to find such a bold director finding a West End hit so credible. The score for the tragic romance between former silent film star Norma Desmond and impoverished writer Joe Gillis sounds big – powerful and sensuous – Alan Williams’ work as musical director is fantastic.

Lloyd takes the book and lyrics by Don Black and Christopher Hampton seriously, too: the presentation is clear and nuanced and you can’t fault delivery of a single line. Norma’s attempt to return to work and Gillis’ romance with another writer are both explored in depth. I only spotted one omission, a lighter number called ‘The Lady’s Paying’, and the absence is telling. Sunset Boulevard is a dark piece – it’s about a murder, after all. The camp appeal of the show is allowed but carefully controlled.

The staging is startling. Soutra Gilmour’s design has no props and no set. Instead, Lloyd sets up a dialogue with the medium of film and the resulting designs for lighting and video, from Jack Knowles, Nathan Amzi and Joe Ransom, are breathtaking. It’s too simple to say noirish, although the references are clear. And it isn’t just that these designs aid the drama. Desmond and Gillis are conscious of the spotlight and that they are being filmed (they work in the movies, after all, and Gillis is narrating events). There is a lot of live filming here – a huge technical accomplishment – on a massive screen. And while the idea has been popular for a while, even taking us outside the theatre at one point, Lloyd shows himself as a master of this.

Sunset-Boulevard-Grace-Hodgett-Young-and-Tom-Francis-credit-Marc-Brenner
Grace Hodgett Young and Tom Francis

All this and no mention of the cast – all of them stars, each bringing more excitement. This is a large ensemble, Fabian Aloise’s bold choreography is in keeping with the production’s stark drama, creating fragmented imagery that recalls an old movie and adds focus along with a sense of foreboding.

Tom Francis and Grace Hodgett Young play the younger leads. They have slim credits between them, but both performances are justifiably confident. They sound great, act with skill and, given Lloyd’s unerring eye for talent, you can’t wait to see what they do next. While Francis has the bigger part – and tackles his role with great subtlety – Hodgett Young leaves a big impression, showing a sweet heroine who isn’t a pushover.

Sunset-Boulevard-Nicole-Scherzinger-credit-Marc-Brenner
Nicole Scherzinger

Finally, Nicole Scherzinger takes the lead as Desmond and gives a performance that will surely change her career. Scherzinger has a powerful voice and knows how to use it. She can belt out a note, but only at the right moment. She gets what Lloyd is doing, using the cameras for fun, drawing the focus to her face. Boldly, some iconic lines are, almost, thrown away. This is a brave performance, with Scherzinger never scared of looking the fool and becoming vulnerable – and moving – as a result.  A finale that turns the action into something like a horror film is stunning. Scene after scene, Scherzinger and Lloyd surprise and excite.

Until 6 January 2023

www.sunsetboulevardwestend.com

Photos by Marc Brenner

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“Dr Semmelweis” at the Harold Pinter Theatre

Medical history is the subject of this new play written by Stephen Brown and Mark Rylance, the play’s star. While the story is important, it isn’t that dramatic – we’re in the realms of research, after all, conducting experiments the audience knows the outcome of. The many successful strategies employed by director Tom Morris to add emotion are impressive. But regrettably, none quite overcomes the poor script.

The titular 19th-century Viennese doctor was one of the first to speculate about contagion and propose cleanliness as essential through his work as an obstetrician. Brown and Rylance understandably focus on women’s health. Again important, but the script relies on the role of a midwife (for some reason Irish) that’s full of clichés. Pauline McLynn, who takes the part, has an awful lot to do; not just dealing with the sexism the character encounters, but providing too many pointers to the audience about how we’re supposed to be reacting. Meanwhile, the basics are lacking: the scene could be better set, especially since rejection by the establishment is a plot point. And there might be a little more background about the state of medicine to highlight Semmelweis’ achievement.

Rylance has written a mammoth role for himself – the delivery of which is sure to impress and has secured strong reviews. Semmelweis was a troubled character: brilliant and intolerant, he ended his life in a mental institution. Intelligently, the character fits well with Rylance’s performance style, which has plenty of admirers, but is often fraught. And much of the script is verbose and predictable, clunky and declaratory. Does the portrayal convince, or is it a matter of the energy Rylance undoubtedly brings to the role? I suspect the answer depends on how much of a fan of him you are.

Rylance does power the show. But the play’s other characters suffer as a result. There are strong performances as friends and colleagues from Ewan Black, Felix Hayes and Jude Owusu, but they are simply foils – and the latter’s death seems particularly wasted. The poor wife, who spends most of the first act asking why what we are all watching was kept a secret from her, means that Amanda Wilkin’s considerable talent is wasted. Perhaps the biggest missed opportunity is Semmelweis’ nemesis at the Vienna Hospital, Johann Klein. Alan Williams’ performance in the part is good – but the play would be better if the role weren’t such a straw man.

There’s an antidote to a lot of these problems, though. The use of dance, with choreography by Antonia Franceschi and music from Adrian Sutton, comes to the rescue. Both beautiful and frightening, the show’s movement brings out mortality and violence. A quartet accompanies the action on stage and the supporting cast of patients bring the focus on to the mothers that Semmelweis saved far more effectively than his many speeches.

Until 7 October 2023

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

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"Faith, Hope and Charity" at the National Theatre

Faith is missing. She’s a four-year old girl taken from her unstable mother and desperate older brother, brilliantly portrayed by Susan Lynch and Bobby Stallwood, in Alexander Zeldin’s new play. The heavy irony – that Faith never appears – sets the tone for this bleak piece, and there’s a sinking feeling throughout this painful look at the most vulnerable in our society.

Faith is present in one sense, as Zeldin places a lot of it in his audience’s patience. Directing his own work, the pace here is glacial: there’s little action, plenty of random conversations and, since the setting is a soup kitchen, lots of cooking and eating. I attended just after the press night and, regrettably, more than a few people left at the interval. But the verisimilitude achieved by all the detail here is remarkable. With the aid of Natasha Jenkins’ design and some marvellous lighting from Marc Williams, many of the short lines and tiny actions bring a tear to the eye. It isn’t easy viewing, but Zeldin’s bravery at demanding such patience creates powerful theatre.

Cecilia Noble and Nick Holder in 'Faith, Hope and Charity' at the National Theatre
Cecilia Noble and Nick Holder

Hope comes in the form of Mason, a role that Nick Holder makes his own. A volunteer with the choir at the community centre, he talks of “growth” and tries so hard to help it’s impossible not to adore him. Holder carefully hints at his character’s vulnerability from the start and, when we learn how damaged he really is (in a scene where both Holder and Lynch shine), the pain is raw. Although a leader for the group, Mason has as many problems as any of them and, as we see each of ensemble try so desperately to help – when they are so ill-equipped to do so – the play becomes heart-wrenching. The tiny gestures of concern and all the courtesy (I’ve never heard the word “sorry” spoken so many times in one play) are overwhelming as the problems each person faces are revealed. Alan Williams’ performance, as the eccentric Bernard, has to be highlighted: as the character sinks (there’s that word again) into dementia it becomes clearer how alone and helpless he is. The truth is that these people, each depicted so carefully by the ensemble, don’t have a chance in our society.

Alan Williams in 'Faith, Hope and Charity' at the National Theatre
Alan Williams

The neglect in Austerity Britain is all the crueller when it comes to what Zeldin sees as the greatest of these virtues. Charity defines the role of Hazel (Cecilia Noble), the manager and chef at the centre. It’s clear that she is an ideal for all these people, but the character is grounded by Noble, who makes no end of self-sacrifice believable. As the pressure mounts, in her personal life and over the future of the crumbling building, Noble’s performance goes from strength to strength. The achievements of Hazel and Mason, keeping people fed and arranging a small singing concert, aren’t small. But it’s no plot spoiler to say that Zeldin can’t give us a happy ending. Hazel hasn’t sung for years and, when she joins the ‘choir’, the result is a painful cry for help that confirms the play as a damning indictment of our times.

Until 12 October 2019

nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Sarah Lee

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“Mary Stuart” at the Almeida Theatre

Friedrich Schiller’s play, about 16th-century monarchs Mary Queen of Scots and Elizabeth I, is full of dramatic speculation about the personalities behind a continually popular historical power struggle, and it is adapted and directed by Robert Icke in rousing fashion. With Mary’s flight into England, engendering a political crisis for her sister Queen, much is made of international law and refugee status. Having two powerful women in charge begs for a study in gender politics. You can’t blame Icke for leaping on the opportunities offered – if hardly subtle, he marvellously stokes the flames within this early 19th century text.

At the start of each show, a toss of a coin decides which role the two leads, Lia Williams and Juliet Stevenson, will take. That Icke emphasises one of the play’s many debates – the role of chance and fate – with such speedy excitement is indicative of his talents. As for the performances, both are impeccable. The night I attended heads and tails meant Williams played the Catholic monarch with a convincing mix of religious fervour and sensuality. Stevenson’s Virgin Queen was up there with the best – a shrewd executive struggling to hide hysterical fear about assassination plots. Physical threats to both women are highlighted by Icke, an expertly handled tactic that ramps up the drama.

Rudi Dharmalingham as Mortimer
Rudi Dharmalingham as Mortimer

A strong male cast joins Williams and Stevenson, with notably restrained performances. Occasionally the reserve strikes as almost odd. Rudi Dharmalingam’s double-dealing Mortimer presents a coolly controlled fanatic – his attempt to rape Mary is disturbing. Leicester is another duplicitous character who John Light makes it a pleasure to hate. Vincent Franklin and Alan Williams make their skill and experience show as Elizabeth’s loyal advisors, Burleigh and Talbot, who have to present different sides of an occasionally clunky argument about beheading Mary that are.

With brilliant performances, and some sprucing from Icke, this lengthy play, crammed with ideas and long sections of argument, races along. Success comes from the staging, with designer Hildegard Bechtler’s help. Played in the round, a rotating circular stage adds an adversarial air throughout. A climactic scene, utilising the stage’s movement is magical: accompanied by a song from Laura Marling, Elizabeth is transformed into Gloriana – face paint and all (it’s just too tempting for a story teller) – while Mary, in a simple shift, is freed from the “slavery” of the crown and worldly concerns. It’s a tough sell and, if you’re enamoured of Good Queen Bess, you won’t fall for the Marian martyrdom. But presentation of the debate about these women is brought up to date, the story shown at its gripping best, and there’s no doubt that Icke has produced stunning theatre here.

Until 21 January 2016

www.almeida.co.uk

Photos by Manuel Harlan