Tag Archives: Ian Rickson

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“Walden” at the Harold Pinter Theatre

It’d be lovely to roundly cheer producer Sonia Friedman’s idea of bringing new writing to the stage as the West End reopens. And bravo to director Ian Rickson and the performers of this first show of the ‘Re:Emerge Season’. Unfortunately, Amy Berryman’s debut play only musters polite applause.

Walden is the story of estranged scientist sisters Cassie and Stella, with Stella’s fiancé Bryan thrown in. Cassie’s just got back from the moon – the job Stella wanted – and is visiting the off-grid cabin her sister has retreated to. You can’t call Berryman’s writing bad – it’s studied, careful and competent – but it is predictable, and the story is thin.

One hour, 40 minutes is a long time to spend on sibling rivalry. With the legacy of their father’s space travel adding little, and a former love interest’s sketchy presence, the conflict between the sisters isn’t firmly grounded. It’s Gemma Arterton and Lydia Wilson’s performances as the sisters that hold the interest and bring conviction to the, admittedly detailed, roles. The only tension, as moments of passion and conflict fluctuate, comes with trying to work out which sister is really the coldest or most damaged… or which is the least likeable.

The near-future sci-fi elements of the play aren’t original (the same old climate catastrophe and mass migration) and nothing new is done with them. There’s a conspiracy theory (of course), this time a nasty Nasa. And a debate over moving to the moon feels tacked on – only phraseology is discussed – Cassie doesn’t like the word ‘Colony’.

It is with the character of Bryan – which Fehinti Balogun does a brilliant job with – that the play really shows its flaws. Too obviously introduced to create discussion – he is an ‘Earth Advocate’ opposed to science – it is solely Balogun’s skill that makes watching the character bearable. Only there to serve up questions to the other characters, which are subsequently ignored, Bryan’s own backstory is tacked on in almost insulting fashion. Frustratingly, Bryan should be essential – it is his “life in the woods” that the action is set in. 

Apart from a cabin, there’s little of Henry David Thoreau in the play that takes the name of his famous retreat and book – surely a missed opportunity? There are plenty of influential ideas in Thoreau that could be explored, but any you might think connect with the play are only superficial. At best a brief discussion of Thoreau allows us to make up our mind about Cassie: describing him as a “whiney hipster” could confirm your opinion about her – I was ready to see her off the planet as soon as she said it!

It’s great to see performers on a stage again. And these are great performers, well directed. But it’s frustrating to see so little done with the stage. Waldenv could easily be a radio play. Indeed, a therapy session might be a more accurate description? More than once, characters ask one another “Tell me what you’re feeling”, before we settle down to a description. Too many scenes are duologues with forced debate.

An unresolved ending indicates how lost the script becomes. Despite the performances, it’s hard to care what happens to either sister. There’s a lot of talk of purpose in the play but too few interesting questions are raised or developed, leaving Walden itself with little point.

Until 12 June 2021

www.sfp-reemergeseason.com

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"Uncle Vanya" at the Harold Pinter Theatre

For a play with so much unrequited love among its characters, Conor McPherson’s adaptation of Chekhov’s classic is quite the comedy. The production emphasises the humour in the original, adds some knowing laughs at our expectations of Russian gloom and isn’t even shy to try some slapstick. It makes for one of the most entertaining Chekhovs I’ve seen and deserves huge success as a result.

Toby Jones gets the laughs as the long-suffering titular character, in love with Yelena who has married into his extended family. It’s nice to be reminded of what a natural comedian Jones is, even if there are moments when you might want to feel for his hound-dog character a little more.

Rosalind Eleazar and Aimee Lou Wood in Uncle Vanya at the Harold Pinter Theatre
Rosalind Eleazar and Aimee Lou Wood

Yelena, a sympathetic figure with the help of Rosalind Eleazar’s excellent depiction, has to deal with Vanya’s attentions while being caught in a love triangle with her step-daughter Sonya and the local doctor, Astrov. McPherson surprises again with a sweetness about the romances that comes primarily from Aimee Lou Wood’s brilliant portrayal of Sonya’s crush.

Richard Armitage in Uncle Vanya at the Harold Pinter Theatre
Richard Armitage

For both women, scenes with Richard Armitage’s Astrov, while full of sexual tension, contain a pragmatism that takes out some of their sting. It’s an idea that comes into its own at the play’s conclusion. I didn’t quite buy Astrov as a “helpless animal” because of his passion. By the end it seems I am not supposed to; life goes on despite the trials of the human condition.

Behind the humour, Uncle Vanya is all exhaustion and anhedonia – does this ring hollow amongst the laughter? Or has McPherson created a new tonality for us to consider? There’s no doubting the crispness of his writing or his strong vision. Aided by Ian Rickson’s direction, each household member makes a distinct impression and the action is easy to follow – the production is exceptionally clear. The speech is unintimidating: characters even blow raspberries, expletives are used wisely and monologues direct to the audience provide an intimacy that feels natural.

Dearbhla Molloy in Uncle Vanya at the Harold Pinter Theatre
Dearbhla Molloy

As for McPherson’s ideas, quite rightly, he focuses on the women in the play. Along with Eleazar and Wood, there’s superb support from Anna Calder-Marshall and Dearbhla Molloy. Like most of the characters, Vanya is obsessed by his years – he’s reached the grand age of 47 (makes a man think). But McPherson’s show is marked by youthful appeal. Concerns about the forest (made graphic with the Doctor’s hobby of historical map making) ring environmental alarms that feel topical. And the play’s final words go to the next generation. Sonya’s will to struggle on ends the show on an appropriately optimistic note. There may be only one candle as the curtain descends, but there’s plenty of light.

Until 2 May 2020

www.unclevanyaplay.com

Photography by Johan Persson

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“Rosmersholm” at the Duke of York Theatre

Theatre folk love to make revivals of plays relevant to current times. Now and then, the connections made seem forced, but this new adaptation by Duncan Macmillan of Ibsen’s play from 1886 resonates with the present in a way that frequently astounds. Set around an election, with a country polarised and inequality increasing, nationalism and fake news are everywhere. Meanwhile, the play’s central figure of Rosmer recognises that his privilege comes with a “moral debt” – as they say on Twitter, he is ‘woke’. A conscience examined in the finest detail and a brilliant performance by Tom Burke contribute to a superb production that fizzes with topicality.

Rosmersholm is no dry political disquisition. Giles Terera’s stage presence – as the establishment figure of Andreas Kroll – makes sure that the debate is entertaining. Rosmer’s brother-in-law and old friend, Kroll views radicalism as a threat to not just the country but the soul. And there’s more – ghosts for a start – which director Ian Rickson allows to be symbolic as well as pretty creepy. The characters and the damaged house of Rosmer, with its gorgeous set from Rae Smith, are haunted in many ways, with gradual revelations about the family’s history that make this quite the thriller. It’s all balanced expertly by Rickson and, if the evening is overpowering at times, it’s always exciting.

Tom Burke and Giles Terera

Above all, Rosmersholm is a romance – a particularly intense and tragic one. Marking out Rosmer as a “fallen man” involved with an “independent woman” could remind us too forcefully that this is a period piece. But not a jot. While Burke brings out the complexities of his role as a former pastor who has lost his faith and whose family name becomes a political football, his love interest, Rebecca West, is made the star of the show. This is a tremendous vehicle for Hayley Atwell, who gives a performance full of fantastic detail. West even seems as if she might provide a happy ending. You don’t need to have seen too much Ibsen to be suspicious of that, but Atwell and Rickson make subsequent revelations edge-of-the-seat stuff.

This is a relationship based on talking politics (that’s how our couple fell in love). The chemistry is fantastic, but the ideals discussed are also exciting and challenging. West proves an extreme figure who allows no compromise and there’s an immaturity in both her and Rosmer – take your pick blaming stunted upbringings or a narrow society – that leads to catastrophe. Rosmersholm becomes a frightening place – the talk is of sickness and sacrifice, death or change. No middle ground is allowed. It’s surely just the position, with all its dangers, that we face right now.

Until 20 July 2019

www.rosmersholmplay.com

Photos by Johan Persson

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“The Goat, or Who is Sylvia?” at the Theatre Royal Haymarket

This first London revival of Edward Albee’s 2002 play, with Ian Rickson directing a stellar cast, reveals a piece that is riveting and risqué. A superb companion to Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, playing around the corner, it’s also a marital drama with high stakes. Our hero is having an affair… with a goat.

There’s a lot of shock value, cleverly handled. Albee plays with taboos in a fashion that would make younger writers from the ‘In Yer Face’ school proud. The nervous laughter of the audience would be gratifying to him. The language is colourful and its articulate characters – caught in a nightmarish situation – explore all manner of repercussions to the affair.

The cast are superb. Jason Hughes and Archie Madekwe stand as fully formed characters, best friend and son to Martin and Stevie Gray, the couple whose perfect lives didn’t contain a plan about what would happen in the face of zoophilia. It’s a bizarre twist – that’s the point – Albee even describes it as “ludicrous”.

Damian Lewis takes the part of Martin: great as the tortured victim of his obsession and even better when it comes to trying to defend his actions. Sophie Okonedo plays his unfortunate wife, giving a magnetic performance of subtle comic skill. Together they create a believably perfect marriage – think how difficult that is – that roots the show in a painful reality. And the life we see falling apart needs to be convincing: it is important Martin’s obsession is a bolt from the blue.

When the truth is revealed, the objets in the couple’s stylish apartment suffer during an amusingly respectful fighting match (credit to designer Rae Smith here, but also a busy stage management replacing all those broken pots). Martin the “semanticist” tries to pin down what’s going on – to describe facts and feelings. His odd forgetfulness and obsession with grammar are not just for laughs, and Lewis makes them edgy; showing the “pit” of chaos that’s arisen from a chance encounter in a farmyard! With admirable gusto, Rickson orchestrates a swirling mix of trauma, hilarity and shock – making this an awesome experience.

Until 24 June 2017

www.trh.co.uk

Photo by Johan Persson

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“The Red Lion” at the National Theatre

I’ve no interest in football, and I can barely understand how anyone has. But the first play by Patrick Marber in eight years has to be seen. OK, sport can make good drama. And Marber uses what he calls the “dreaming game” to look at themes of loyalty, masculinity and society. But the real shock is that this play has changed my mind about soccer: the passion is so convincing, it’s contagious.

Don’t worry, I’m not going out to a match or anything. But the three ages of man we meet in the changing room of a non-league club – the kind we are told is like a thousand others – are believable despite taking their sport so seriously. Although it contains a fair few jokes, The Red Lion is a serious play, about elation but mostly desperation.

These are great characters and it’s heart wrenching to see this trio flounder. Each speech changes the focus of the play with fluidity – each role becomes, literally, the playmaker by turns. And I am reliably informed each man is instantly recognisable. Taking along my sole football fan friend was my game plan.

THE RED LION national theatre
Peter Wight

First on stage is the club’s Kit Man, a former legend, whose history is troubled. He’s said to “drink too much, think too much and feel too much”. Peter Wight brings out the role’s layers, handling the humour precisely: his devotion to the team is religious, which gets laughs at first… but has the most serious consequences.

Daniel Mays plays the club’s on-the-make manager, with the “courage to be despised”. He speaks in clichés: take his boast at being a bad loser, “I’ll kick a puppy. I’ll kick you.” But with May’s expert delivery, and Marber’s masterly exposition, the character intrigues against the odds.

THE RED LION national theatre
Calvin Demba

The object of both men’s adoration is a talented youngster played by Calvin Demba. Whether they see him as a commodity or some kind of salvation, a contrast made subtle by the plot, they each want to use him. But the kid has a past of his own. Where innocence or purity lie is a rich seam in the play.

Faultlessly directed by Ian Rickson, who gives this brilliant text every chance, The Red Lion has a melancholy streak that stops and starts play. Footballers are said to have three deaths, at different stages of their careers, but we see more than that here. A genuine love of the game drives Marber, but machinations in the club clearly have wider parallels. What’s searched for is a player with “aggression, technique and guile” – Marber’s writing has all three. If theatre had a transfer season, this would be the play to bid for.

Until 30 September 2015

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Catherine Ashmore

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“Electra” at the Old Vic

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Frank McGuinness’ version of Electra is currently playing at the Old Vic. Directed by Ian Rickson, with satisfying confidence, this no-nonsense version of Sophocles’ tragedy, about a daughter’s revenge on her mariticidal mother, is direct and powerful.

This is a fine production with Kristin Scott Thomas in the title role. She’s the star attraction, but it should be stressed that the whole cast is strong. Diana Quick is suitably regal as the detested mother Clytemnestra and Jack Lowden gives a moving depth to Electra’s prodigal brother Orestes.

Hauteur has been a career specialty for Scott Thomas and, since Electra is a princess, it’s used to advantage here. But this is a remarkably earthy performance, free from vanity and physically charged. She is dynamic, pacing around as if caged. Even when on the ground, little of her body touches the earth. Convulsed with grief, every muscle is expressive. And animalistic: her centre of gravity is low and every sense heightened to suggest a hunted figure. This intimation of the feral doesn’t disappear with a cry of joy as Orestes reappears – Electra sniffs her brother as if to confirm that he is one of her brood.

As well as its easy appeal, McGuinness’ text gets to the heart of the tale with efficiency. Along with the horror of the story, dilemmas are presented cogently with an emphasis on religion that Rickson develops.
Quick and Lowden both represent the questions surrounding their bloody family legacy well. The urgency of Electra’s need for justice, which creates a manic “fire in her head”, is balanced with cogent arguments, delineated by Scott Thomas with eviscerating intelligence.

Until 20 December 2015

www.oldvictheatre.com

Photo by Johan Persson

Written 8 October 2014 for The London Magazine

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“Old Times” at the Harold Pinter Theatre

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The scenario is straightforward: a woman visits her old, now married, friend after many years. The exposition less so. As the three reminisce, memories become distorted and history manipulated, as they battle for supremacy in their accounts of the past. Old Times is a fascinating exploration of relationships and has a mysterious edge, it keeps the truth about this trio hidden, and as a result this play is as gripping as it is intelligent.

Director Ian Rickson is experienced with Harold Pinter’s work, and it shows. The writer loved triangular relationships, he was a master with them, and this skill is matched in a careful, rich, production. The acting is intense, intentionally affected, with every word and gesture full of potential: the possibility of a laugh or a slap. The dialogue is a constant competition, and the heavyweight cast – Kristin Scott Thomas, Lia Williams and Rufus Sewell – all excel at it. Each manages to traverse the fine line between humour and suspense that is peculiar to Pinter. It’s a surprise to see how much fun they seem to have. Sewell brings an impishness to his role, at times camp, as well as the requisite menace as his character tries to dominate the group. His development into what Pinter described as “a man defeated by women” is a huge achievement. Scott Thomas and Williams bring real charge and their every physical interaction bristles with sexual tension.

A common theory about Old Times is that the two actresses play different sides of the same person, a concept given weight here by Scott Thomas and Williams alternating their roles. But some (or all?) of the characters might be dead, in some kind of Satre-esque Hell, or they might just be plain silly with some peculiar kinks going on. Whatever your idea Old Times is always captivating.

For my money this is a problem play that you aren’t supposed to solve. The wonder of it is in its construction, like the dynamics of the relationships that it explores – it’s enough to see these picked apart and rebuilt over and over. Pinter toys with the audience. The joy of Rickson’s production is to see that game played so well.

Until 6 April 2013

Photo by Simon Annand

Written 4 February 2013 for The London Magazine

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“Hamlet” at the Young Vic

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There have been lots of Hamlets: it seems that the character is infinite in variety as well as faculty, and it’s easy to imagine the pressure to come up with something different. Director Ian Rickson’s angle at the Young Vic Theatre is to stage the play in a lunatic asylum, an insane idea that not only adds nothing to the play, but actually severely detracts from it.

Of all the different productions of Hamlet one can think of, one constant remains intact – the equivocation concerning Hamlet’s sanity that is so central to the text. Not only is this dramatic, it goes to the heart of Shakespeare’s search for Hamlet’s humanity. Rickson simply abandons this question: his Hamlet is an inmate. Clearly schizophrenic (he adopts the persona of his father), he is reduced from an everyman to a madman

Straitjacketing the text into the concept produces inconsistencies too numerous to mention, from the trivial (it’s an odd asylum that lets its inmates play with swords) to the essential – if Hamlet is merely delusional, why is a supernatural presence suggested anyway? If you can remain calm in the face of all this you might enjoy the production’s attempts to get around these problems, albeit problems of its own making. Jeremy Herbert’s design is impressive – it even includes a pre-show ‘tour’ where the audience walks backstage to acquaint itself with the institution. It’s big – but it isn’t clever. Indeed, by the end of the show it is quite literally dumb with Fortinbras reduced to hand signals to reveal Rickson’s final ‘twist’.

Some benefit from all this stupidity: Michael Gould is convincing as a more prominent than usual Polonius, and Vinette Robinson is moving as a Ophelia who seems at home in this madhouse. But the majority of characters suffer: the move from King to councillor is too much of a demotion for the role of Claudius, and James Clyde is wasted in the part, while Gertrude is reduced to a spaced-out victim – it isn’t clear if she is an inmate or not.

The greatest loss though is Michael Sheen in the title role. A talented actor, always magnetic on stage, it is clear from his powerful soliloquies what a great Hamlet he could have been. Trapped inside Ian Rickson’s concept, he is denied the chance. This is the real tragedy of the evening.

Until 21 January 2011

www.youngvic.org

Written 11 November 2011 for The London Magazine

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“The Children’s Hour” at the Comedy Theatre

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At the interval of The Children’s Hour, I happened to overhear a young audience member’s confusion. “What is the scandal?” he asked. “Is it because they are lesbians?” It could be that accusing schoolteachers of being gay, the central plot of the play, is now so outmoded it doesn’t even make sense, or that the child is just expecting something more lurid. Either way the perplexity doesn’t bode well – and yet The Children’s Hour works and proves to be a terrific night out.

It is easy to guess why director Ian Rickson took the risk – The Children’s Hour  has great roles for women. And the stellar cast should all share top billing. Elisabeth Moss makes an assured West End debut playing one of the accused teachers, Martha, with convincing aggression. She looks only slightly less comfortable on stage than her colleague Karen, played by Keira Knightley. After her modest debut in last year’s The Misanthrope, Knightly is impressive, playing an ambitious woman whose life falls apart in the face of malicious gossip. At times, she is a commanding presence on the stage.

The legendary Ellen Burstyn gives a performance of quiet brilliance as the teacher’s self-righteous scourge; it’s her desperation to do ‘good’ that persuades her to believe her granddaughter Mary’s story, cribbed from a book the girls have been passing amongst themselves. Mary has overheard the women visiting each other’s rooms and seen things she can only whisper about, blackmailing others to follow her. It isn’t that the story is convincing – it’s the paranoia of the adults that gives it power. Bryony Hannah plays this “dark child” wonderfully. As an actress she has had plenty of practice playing adolescents, and it’s paid off with an uncannily convincing performance of thrilling intensity.

Hannah’s performance is very much in keeping with Rickson’s strategy for The Children’s Hour. His direction wrenches every bit of tension from the text and he is aided by Mark Thompson’s austere set design and music from Stephen Warbeck. Lancet, New England, is a frigid place – probably close to Salem I’d guess – and Hellman, like her close contemporary Arthur Miller, is very much concerned with witch hunts.

While The Children’s Hour is an unsettling portrayal of how a sexual minority was treated in 1930s America, gay rights are really just a foil for larger concerns about the dangers of righteousness. In opening up her play to this larger issue, Hellman guaranteed its relevance for the future. Rickson and his cast get the benefits of good old-fashioned writing along with a foresight that makes this play carry considerable weight today.

Until 7 May 2011

Photo by Johan Persson

Written 10 February 2011 for The London Magazine