Tag Archives: Maureen Beattie

Uncategorised

“My Fair Lady” at the English National Opera

Visiting the London Coliseum this summer, New York’s Lincoln Centre’s revival of Lerner and Loewe’s masterpiece matches the musical’s classic stature. Like the piece, the production oozes quality from start to finish. The show is as consistently close to faultless as you could wish.

It’s the story of flower girl Eliza Doolittle and her Pygmalion transformation by Professor Higgins and Colonel Pickering. But, of course, you knew that. The way in which the lower-class Eliza is treated by the toffs is handled with as much sensitivity as it can be. Director Bartlett Sher’s adoption of a thoughtful pace allows nuance to come through.

The slow(ish) treatment – there is little action here – might be expected to make the almost three-hour show drag a little. But entertainment is guaranteed by the hit score and the consistently clever lyrics. The cut-out-style sets (Michael Yeargan), including Higgin’s revolving home, are appealing, while the costumes (Catherine Zuber) are full of inventive touches.

Harry-Hadden-Paton-Amara-Okereke-and-Malcolm-Sinclair-credit-Marc-Brenner
Harry Hadden-Paton, Amara-Okereke and Malcolm-Sinclair

The production’s biggest strength comes with the strong cast. There is excellent support from Shariff Afifi as Freddie, who sounds wonderful. And strong work from Maureen Beattie’s housekeeping Mrs Pearce. Just don’t get too excited for the too brief appearance of Higgins’ mother (Vanessa Redgrave). Malcolm Sinclair takes the part of Colonel Pickering in his stride – an effortless performance that is a joy to watch. Above all, the leads are a delight. Amara Okereke makes an excellent Eliza, balancing the character’s fearful and feisty qualities; her voice is one of the sweetest I’ve heard but can also be full of temper. Okereke manages to make the number Show Me her own. Travelling with the show from the States, Harry Hadden-Paton is a suitably imperious professor with impeccable comic skills.

Sher is respectful of the show’s heritage all the way to the end. It’s a great moment but, overall, the production is a traditional affair. For critics, the show suffers a little in comparison to another US import, a radical reimagining Oklahoma! at the Young Vic. But few will question these performances or the forceful vision behind the show. Making sure a musical like My Fair Lady gets its fair due is a fantastic achievement.

Until 27 August 2022

www.myfairladymusical.co.uk

Photos by Marc Brenner

Uncategorized

“Yerma” at the Young Vic

For all the praise heaped on Simon Stone’s adaptation of Federico García Lorca’s play, my heart sank when the curtain rose to reveal two of my pet hates: the action takes place in a glass box and sound is relayed to the audience. Separated from the audience twice over, it’s an isolating experience. But this clinical technique, putting lives under surveillance, is actually used to perfection.

‘Her’, the contemporary Londoner whose life we follow in chapters, has it all – even a house. From the start, Billie Piper shows she’s worthy of the Olivier award she received for this performance, endearing us towards a character she makes instantly recognisable. The chemistry with her onstage husband is similarly convincing (taking that role, Brendan Cowell should have picked up a trophy, too).

It turns out that ‘Her’ has everything except a baby. The play follows her efforts to get pregnant with painful exactitude. The effects on the family are detailed with further great performances from Charlotte Randle and Maureen Beattie as ‘Her’ sister and mother. As desperation increases, mental health deteriorates rapidly and Piper’s performance becomes harrowing.

Stone is forceful about bringing his adaptation into the here and now. Piper’s character is a journalist, with blog posts that becomes increasingly personal. Egged on by a younger colleague (Thalissa Teixeira) the over-sharing may be predictable but it’s startling and provides pause for thought.

On a very literal level, it seems hard not to view the play as reductive – woman goes mad because she can’t reproduce – and it’s impossible not to feel uncomfortable about this. To add to such a challenge is the assumption the modern woman has fewer societal expectations since Lorca wrote in 1934. But does she? That desire to confirm is the uneasy question Stone leaves hanging, making his work a vital piece of theatre.

Until 31 August 2017

www.youngvic.org

Photo by Johan Persson

Uncategorized

“Nuclear War” at the Royal Court

A combination of dance, song and poetry, Simon Stephens’ new creation will make heads spin and hearts ache.

While the writer might dislike the word, ‘experimental’ is an accurate description. This is a piece that pushed boundaries well before an audience even got near it, by privileging the always collaborative nature of theatre-making. Stephens affords remarkable liberty to those he works with: his script is a “series of suggestions” left deliberately open – just a dozen pages of text with no characters. Both his role as a playwright and the job of director/choreographer Imogen Knight are reappraised and opened up.

So what’s the result? The text’s main theme rings out: Nuclear War is a meditation on grief, movingly depicted. Maureen Beattie takes the lead, recounting a day like a contemporary Mrs Dalloway, but stricken by loss. Recollections of moments in hospital are the clearest and most effective. This is a woman out of her mind with mourning and loneliness.

The character Beattie so meticulously depicts is accompanied by performers Sharon Duncan-Brewster, Gerrome Miller, Beatrice Scirocchi and Andrew Sheridan. All four give committed performances but with the actions of the group they form, the evening becomes confusing. You could call this quartet a chorus, why not: revealing internal thoughts and adding a running commentary…of sorts. Mortality is linked to time, with snatches of Arthur Eddington’s ideas injected. And then come some puzzling props. Lasting only 45 minutes, Knight hasn’t allowed long enough to explore the depth of Stephens’ text.

If you’re grumpy, a sense this was all more fun to work on than to watch creeps in. However, aided by lighting guru Lee Curran, there’s some incredible imagery here. The chorus become dogs, and bizarre fetishists, before transforming into ghosts to say a goodbye to their grieving companion. It’s a peremptory departure, despite the resolution it offers, and I wished for more of these unforgettable moments from such an intrepid trial.

Until 6 May 2017

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Chloe Lamford