Tag Archives: Elliot Levey

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“Cold War” at the Almeida Theatre

All the tragic romance in Paweł Pawlikowski’s 1998 film is present in this adaptation from Conor McPherson, directed by Rupert Goold. The story of two musicians, Wiktor and Zula, separated by the titular conflict when he defects to France, is intense; from passion filled first meeting, to damaging co-dependency, and a depressing finale.

Cold War is a play with music rather than a musical but there are a lot of songs. Under the musical direction of Jo Cichonska the show sounds great. First there are folk songs: Wiktor is collecting them with his lover Irene (a superb performance from Alex Young) when he meets Zula. The traditional music is re-arranged throughout the show to great effect. But we also get new compositions from Elvis Costello. It’s all interesting and subtle, complimenting and commenting on action rather than being the focus.

Elliot Levey, Alex Young and Luke Thallon
Elliot Levey, Alex Young and Luke Thallon

There’s more than the lovers to consider. Questions of art as propaganda and the role of nationalism follow our musicians, most notably in the form of Kaczmarek, a character Elliot Levy skilfully develops from party apparatchik to impresario. The big themes are thin at times, the politics cursory. But there’s plenty to think about and Goold powers through. Then there’s a lot of talk of freedom – how that relates to creativity. So, we’re very much in tortured artist territory. Wiktor and Zula want to do something new and become frustrated.

As trigger warnings state, the outcome for the couple is awful. There are efforts not to glamorise what happens. Wiktor and Zula make interesting anti-heroes that challenge how stylish the production is. Paule Constable’s excellent lighting design has seductive moments (such sexy spotlights) but also harsh clinical glares. Goold is too smart to make the show a straightforward tearjerker – credit to him – but it is odd programming for the festive season.

It’s with the lead performances, from Anya Chalotra and Luke Thallon, that the show really succeeds. Thallon conveys his character’s pain cleverly – Wiktor is a man who hides much. Chalotra is a revelation, full of humour and magnetism while showing a mania that the role requires. She has a sweet voice, and, even tougher, has to sing badly at times (oh, and they both do drunk very well). The couple have a marvellously natural way about them, and for a lot of the time you believe they have fun together. Neither passion nor antagonism are overplayed. Chalotra and Thallon make sure you never quite know what’s going to happen. They make the show exciting and provide a highlight in what might otherwise be just too grim.

Until 27 January 2024

www.almeida.co.uk

Photos by Marc Brenner

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“Cabaret” at the Kit Kat Club

Star billing and the refurbishment of the Playhouse Theatre for the production make this revival of John Kander and Fred Ebb’s musical a very expensive hot ticket.

The price of theatre is an issue as complicated as it is frequently discussed. To be fair, few industries care as much about access as the theatre. As sales show, people are willing to pay. And you can get comfortable £30 seats here… if you are lucky. But with cabaret table places (plus a dining option) costing £325, it’s hard not to question if any show could be worth that price.

And the changes to the theatre are pretty underwhelming. If you like the immersive thing, then entering by the stage door into a bar isn’t going to cut it. The table seating, while nice for some, is hardly new. Thankfully, beyond the hype is a strong production of a great musical. That you could see several shows just as good for same money isn’t the fault of the creative team.

Director Rebecca Frecknall handles staging in the round well and keeps the action moving with an impressive attention to detail. The older couple in the story are given their due. Played exceptionally well by Liza Sadovy and Elliot Levey, the doomed affair between Fraulein Schneider and Herr Schultz becomes the emotional heart of the show. But I’m guessing their performances might not be what you’re interested in?

Cabaret is about two – maybe three – iconic roles. Stepping into big shoes are Eddie Redmayne as the Emcee, Jessie Buckley as Sally Bowles and Omari Douglas as wannabe writer Clifford. If you’ve paid the money, you do get to the see them up close and personal. All three are good, very good. Redmayne’s Emcee is a conductor and a conjuror of events, always in control. Buckley’s impassioned performance is as brave as Douglas’s is cleverly restrained. Both Redmayne and Buckley are a little too keen to differentiate themselves from previous portrayals of their characters – some lines are delivered with odd inflections as a result. But both sound great and have true star quality.

CABARET-The-Company-Photo-Marc-Brenner
The company performing Julia Cheng’s choreography

For surprises, though, it is Tom Scutt’s design that grabs attention (it aids Redmayne enormously) with a gothic feel that’s both effective and original. Meanwhile, Julia Cheng’s choreography is the real star. Movement is aggressive throughout, the performers frequently reduced to frightening and dramatic marionettes.

Credit to Frecknall – Cabaret isn’t fun for your money and there’s no concession to pleasing the well-paying crowd. Remember, Joe Masteroff’s book for the stage is even darker than the famous film, with a keen eye on poverty as well as Nazism. Buckley does particularly well in showing Bowles’ desperation. Frecknall looks at the exploitation behind the fun from the start. But, for at least part of the show, should some of the characters be less aware of how grim things are? When Clifford says that the party is over, it’s jarring that, in this production, the fun never actually begins.

Until 1 October 2022

www.theplayhousetheatre.co.uk

Photos by Marc Brenner

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“Coriolanus” from NTLive

It’s a shame not to be able to rave about Josie Rourke’s Donmar Warehouse production of Shakespeare’s Roman epic a little more. The idea of putting the title character’s mother, Volumnia, to the fore is excellent and leads to the performance of a lifetime from Deborah Findlay. But Coriolanus is a tricky play, with an unappealing central character and short crowded scenes that are tough to make convincing. Although Rourke tries hard to inject energy and aid comprehension, the play frequently drags and hard to follow.

Rourke recreates the battle scene (where Caius Marcius wins his honorary surname of Coriolanus) with chairs and ladders – it probably looked better on stage but it is tough to follow. And a hard-working cast doubling up as politicians from different sides is also confusing.

It’s difficult to care about Coriolanus and his obsession with honour – even his arrogance becomes repetitive. How good a politician might he be? Is he truly modest or just another hypocrite? Such questions become unsubtle in a show with lots of shouting and moving around, none of which helps you work out what is going on or makes it exciting.

Thankfully, Deborah Findlay makes the show more than worth watching. Every scene with Volumnia is marvellous; from her introduction as the mother who would rather have a “good report” of her son than have him survive a war, to her creepy adoration of his battle scars. Findlay makes the exaggerations everyone spouts make sense. Rourke’s focus pays off and if the show uneven – aren’t we just waiting for these scenes? – it’s worth it. Here, Rourke has added to our interpretation of the play and brings out the best bits.

It’s not that the rest of the cast is bad – far from it. There are good turns from Elliot Levey and Helen Schlesinger as the tribunes who plot against Coriolanus, and making them lovers is another good idea. Mark Gatiss, as Menenius, gets better as the show goes, with a “cracked heart” from his last meeting with Coriolanus that is effective. 

CORIOLANUS The Donmar Warehouse credit Johan Persson
Tom Hiddleston

As for our leading man, Tom Hiddleston is very good indeed. It might have been interesting to explore the suggestion of “witchcraft” in the role, but Hiddleston is more than a little scary and brings out the character’s urge to be the “author of himself” well. Hiddleston can hold a stage superbly and, with Rourke’s impressive visual sense in this literally bloody show, helps creates some memorable images.

Yet even Coriolanus ends up seeming something of a foil for his mother – Findlay is so good. On her son’s exile, Volumnia refuses to cry, saying “anger’s my meat” in chilling fashion. That she finally begs Coriolanus is all the more moving – no wonder Hiddleston is reduced to tears. Even here there is a manipulative edge (see how she ushers her grandson towards his father) and note that this tragic dilemma is hers. Coriolanus says his mother deserves to have a temple built to her. It’s one of the few sensible things he utters. But, recalling Matthew Dunster’s idea about Cymbeline a few years ago at Shakespeare’s Globe, it might be an idea to change the title of this play, too? From Coriolanus to Volumnia anyone? 

Available until Wednesday 11 June 2020

To support, visit nationaltheatre.org.uk, donmarwarehouse.com

Photos by Johan Persson

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"Snowflake" at the Kiln Theatre

Even if you think Christmas plays aren’t for you, Mike Bartlett might change your mind. Here’s a show that, thankfully, doesn’t expect us to switch off our brains during December. And in this look at contemporary family life there’s not a trace of the nostalgia that consumes the festive season. At the same time, Snowflake ends a long way from doom and division: Bartlett gives us a heart-warming and clear lesson that’s feelgood enough to teach any Scrooge.

Starting with a 40-minute monologue from Elliot Levey, as Andy waiting to see his daughter for the first time in three years, the first pleasure here is a brilliant performance. And maybe a cheeky streak? How much is Bartlett playing with the fact that this middle-aged, middle-class man – given such a massive role – is just the person we hear too much from in the theatre?

Depending on your age, you might find Andy patronising to the point of being insufferable…or maybe just lame. At first the generation gap is gently prodded; the humour is pretty standard. But there’s real pain behind the Dad jokes. Andy doesn’t know why he is estranged from his daughter Maya. He is still grieving for his wife. And he feels his age, comparing himself to an Anglo-Saxon dummy on display at his local museum. Bartlett’s skill is to give us a midlife crisis that’s interesting (for once) and Levey does a brilliant job with it.

It’s pretty obvious that a confrontation with Andy’s daughter will occur. But Bartlett handles this well, too, and I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. Suffice to say that, with the aid of Clare Lizzimore’s sure-handed direction, not one but two younger voices get to be heard. Amber James’ character, Natalie, provides a welcome, energising hit, bringing fine challenges to Andy’s views and more humour to the piece. Ellen Robertson takes the part of Maya. Of course, in reference to that distasteful description of the millennial generation, she is the snowflake of the title – but Robertson makes Maya a formidable character and effectively ups the emotional stakes.

Again and again, Bartlett predicts the different responses his audience might have, twisting arguments and emotions to answer prejudices and predispositions. The result is a play with an agility that’s in keeping with the message that we all need to take more time to listen to one another better. And that maybe now is the time of year to do so. If that sounds pat, then clearly you really don’t like Christmas, let alone Christmas plays. Admittedly, there’s a sentimental streak to the show. But, since it’s partly Bartlett’s point that the season of good will should be extended to all – even those who voted for Brexit – it’s only fair to make allowances for a writer with Yuletide in mind.

Until 25 January 2020

www.kilntheatre.com

Photo by Manuel Harlan

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“Three Sisters” at the Almeida Theatre

Cordelia Lynn’s new version of Chekhov’s masterpiece is bold and fresh to the point of being revelatory. Lynn enforces the play’s bleakness, with plenty of espousals that life is pointless, yet presents us with a perky trio who are approachable, recognisable and funny. There’s no shying away from the fact that Chekhov’s heroines have an air of the elite; you might ask them to check their privilege. But Lynn makes the struggles of each – in love and work, with the health of all three suffering – relatable, thought-provoking and moving.

Taking the three iconic sisters way past stereotype is not an easy task. Lynn’s muscular dialogue is well served by three performers who are excellent; it’s pleasingly impossible to single out either Pearl Chanda, Patsy Ferran or Ria Zmitrowicz, who all work well together. It’s fantastic to see how funny each can be in each character’s own particular way. Note the difference with the role of their sister-in-law, vividly portrayed Lois Chamimba, which comes into focus wonderfully: she’s a character we laugh at rather than with. Lynn has done justice to the play’s male characters, too. Her version retains some dignity for Elliot Levey’s cuckolded teacher, has sympathy (more than I) for the sister’s brother that Freddie Meredith does well with and uses Alan Williams’ Doctor to further focus themes. The role of Irena’s suitor is the big surprise, though; the character’s optimism comes to the fore as a foil… for a while. It’s a bonanza for Shubham Saraf, who takes the part.

Shubham Saraf and Ria Zmitrowicz

With superb performances and an exciting text, reservations risk sounding trivial, as they become matters of taste rather than criticism. The usually excellent designer Hildegard Bechtler has left the show looking a touch too modish. While not specifically updated or relocated, these three sisters are out of time and place, no matter how often Moscow is mentioned so all the mismatched chairs and Anglepoise lamps, along with the final scene played on bare ground (a big effort for little result), make the aesthetic too contemporary. And might director Rebecca Frecknall’s work also be a touch heavy handed? It’s easy to see the temptation. Several scenes are “all a bit strange”, with moments of staccato delivery and portentousness. Maybe Lynn, like the character Masha, is impatient with the “talk talk talk” in the play – she brings out ideas with sometimes blunt directness. Perhaps Frecknall should have tried to inject more subtlety? Alternatively, she reflects Lynn’s forcefulness and does justice to her vision. It’s a fine line that makes for a pleasing debate.

Until 2 June 2019

www.almeida.co.uk

Photo by Marc Brenner

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“Danton’s Death” at the National Theatre

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As anyone who has attempted Hilary Mantel’s supernovel on the theme will know, revolutionary France seems to have been a fairly confusing place. All those factions and ideologies and decapitations make our current coalition government look dull. And they can be hard to follow. Fortunately, Howard Brenton’s new version of Büchner’s classic, Danton’s Death, cuts to the chase and is light on history and politics.

It is Danton the philosopher that we meet at the National Theatre. His meditations on mortality and fame just happen to have political turmoil as a background. Unfortunately, thinking and politics don’t mix well for him.

Toby Stephens plays Danton. He shouts against corruption superbly but excels when showing the mania of his complex character. Charges of libertinism seem well founded but he is so full of life and charisma that he is appealing. Stephens is magnetic whether on the soapbox, in the bedroom or in prison with his friends.

It is clear we should be following him. Anyway, the opposition are a tiresome lot. Elliot Levey’s Robespierre is a sibilant schoolboy who holds your interest but is hardly terrifying. His followers do far too much arm waving to rise above pantomime.

More disappointing than our hero’s enemies is his wife. Danton’s philandering doesn’t seem to have disturbed Madame at all. I am not sure what would fluster her, as Kirsty Bushell’s performance is so understated as to be soporific. She might be annoyed at the mess he’s going to make of his collar, but that’s about it.

Thankfully the spotlight is on Danton most of the time. And what a spotlight it is – Paule Constable’s lighting for the production is stunning, working perfectly with Christopher Oram’s cliché-free set and aiding director Michael Grandage’s clear, fast-paced production.

Danton’s death comes quickly and the props department’s stunning guillotine is truly convincing. I panicked for a moment, thinking Toby Stephens had been sacrificed for the sake of his art. That would have been a tragedy indeed – this production can’t afford to lose him.

Until 14 October 2010

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Johan Persson

Written 2 August 2010 for The London Magazine