Tag Archives: Mike Bartlett

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“Wild” from #HampsteadTheatreAtHome

The first of three free streamed recordings on offer, Mike Bartlett’s 2016 play takes inspiration from Edward Snowden and revelations of government spying on its citizens. This superb play shows Bartlett’s characteristically calculated skill and cool intelligence.

Handled impeccably by director James Macdonald, for a while, Wild looks like a modest two-hander. The Snowden character, renamed Andrew, meets his contact from what we assume is WikiLeaks in a Russian hotel room. What happens to a man right after he becomes the world’s biggest ever whistleblower? It’s a smart little twist and what follows is often clever, and funny, provoking plenty to debate.

The next move is to make ‘George’, sent to represent Julian Assange, quite bonkers. Andrew’s rescuer arrives in tottering high heels and with plenty of provisos, making a great role for Caolifhionn Dunne, who gets a lot of laughs. If the performance seems a bit broad on a screen, it’s clear it would inject energy on a static stage.

Questioning Andrew’s actions and motivations, playing with the espionage surrounding the situation (which also introduces considerable threat) continues when another George appears. This time played by John Mackay, whose dour presentation is just as good as Dunne’s mania. The play takes on a surreal paranoia with simple effectiveness. 

In the role of Andrew, Jack Farthing’s response shows how carefully his performance has been prepared; increasing the panic nicely and adding an intriguing depth to the role. Yet the play still has an economy to it that’s impressive. Only later does extravagance arrive.

Bartlett is not a playwright shy of exaggeration and this comes into its own in Wild. Conspiracy theories pile up, moving tantalisingly close to spiralling out of control, and, as the arguments become more abstract, Bartlett’s tone turns impassioned and aggressive. Both of the Georges become demonic figures, whose power is undoubted, while Farthing makes his character’s lot lamentable. 

For final praise, there’s a plot spoiler. Designer Miriam Buether (with a consulting illusionist, Ben Hart, also credited) provides a set with a surprise – it collapses and the floor rotates 90 degrees. As a literal metaphor for Andrew’s disorientation it may not be subtle – but it’s brilliant theatre and leaves a stunning impression.

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Available until 5 April 2020

Photos by Stephen Cummiskey

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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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"Vassa" at the Almeida Theatre

Mike Bartlett’s adaptation of Maxim Gorky’s 1910 play is a suitably irreverent and darkly funny version of a text with revolution at its heart. About capitalism as much as feminism, it provides a magnificent title role for Siobhán Redmond and a range of grotesque characters for a strong supporting cast to have fun with. Both Bartlett and director Tinuke Craig have a keen eye on entertaining their audience and, although the show is uneven, the production has enough humour to make it a success.

Vassa is as much a mogul as a matriarch. As her husband lies dying upstairs, her concern is to secure the family business by fiddling his will. She has to tackle her useless sons and mendacious brother-in-law, who each want their inheritance, along with their various romances, all of which are problematic. Herding these cats is done with a vicious tongue and a ruthlessness that beggars belief. Every acid line and heartless act is delivered to perfection by Redmond, who makes a brilliant villain.

Since it was revived this summer, you might think of Githa Sowerby’s Rutherford and Son as an English equivalent to Vassa: close in date, with another tyrannical capitalist and questioning economics. But Gorky, via Bartlett, has a more satirical edge that shows venality in many forms. Yet there’s a fussy feeling to the direction that detracts from how forceful the adaptation is. It’s interesting to see Craig play with elements of farce – notably with Fly Davis’ set full of doors – but unfortunately the comings and goings in this conspiratorial household aren’t that well-handled. Bouquets of flowers that cover the floor for the finale are another example: the idea might delight a florist but the blooms become bothersome.

It isn’t quite accurate to say Vassa only cares about money – her legacy plays a part, too. Any case for her as an arch pragmatist is weakened by this (for the better) while abuses of power for its own sake bubble underneath the text. The results allow a depth to her character that might surprise and that Redmond excels with. The relationship with her daughter, played exquisitely by Amber James, proves fascinating. Likewise her affection for her daughter-in-law Dunya, played by Daniella Isaacs, is developed well. More unhappily, the fate of her maid Lipa, superbly performed by Alexandra Dowling, brings home how high the stakes are.

It’s the men in the piece that let the production down. This isn’t quite Bartlett’s fault, or the performers’ – Vassa dominates the play so much that, when she’s off stage, interest plummets. As her sons, Arthur Hughes and Danny Kirrane have characters a touch too hysterical to deal with. And as Vassa’s potential nemesis, Michael Gould’s Prokhor just isn’t enough of a threat. Thankfully, with a lot of judiciously placed swearing, the text is fresh as well as funny. And the attention to detail is great. There’s a brilliant line about an off-stage character, described as “so drunk he fell over his own arm”. Touches like that aren’t just funny – they convey Vassa’s world so vividly that visiting it proves engrossing.

Until 23 November 2019

www.almeida.co.uk

Photo by Marc Brenner

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“Game” at the Almeida Theatre

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The element of surprise in Mike Bartlett’s new work, Game, is a big part of its success. Theatregoers aren’t even allowed to buy the programme before the show – a neat trick that really piqued my interest. The evening is too good to give this Game away, but rest assured that this original and disturbing show isn’t one you will forget in a hurry.

It’s safe to say the play seems inspired by Big Brother and shoot-‘em-up computer games. But Bartlett’s target is neither celebrity nor mankind’s inherent violence; instead, it’s the housing market and our increasingly unequal society.

The scenario involves desperate people in a crazy situation. The plot may have flaws, but that’s not the point. Staged with amazing technical virtuosity by director Sacha Wares, with Miriam Buether’s set having transformed the theatre, the play presents a deliberately distorted and exaggerated view.

The action is literally from multiple perspectives – scenes are hidden from you and exposed to other audience members. And there are televisions to watch while you hear everything through personal headphones. So the show is immersive (if that’s your thing, Game is a must-see) and adds up to a very individual experience that’s uncomfortably intimate and uniquely theatrical.

Game aims to acknowledge too many societal woes. While Jodie McNee and Mike Noble give brilliant performances in the lead roles, minor characters are caricatures in service to blisteringly satirical moments. It’s always powerful, though. To take one key moment, we are presented with a dilemma over whether to watch the action on stage or look away. One character, ably performed by Kevin Harvey, promises not to look. Do we watch the action or watch him via camera to see if he is true to his word? Either way, we become implicit – whether as voyeur or censor.

As with previous works, Bartlett takes his outlandish premise and builds on it marvellously. There is an incredible tension at the start of each scene as the story progresses and becomes more extreme – you know you won’t like what is coming next. I can see it’s kind of brilliant, but I’ll put my hands up and admit it pushed me too far. House hunting is never much fun, but Bartlett’s treatment left me feeling depressed and a little bit sick.

Until 4 April 2015

www.almeida.co.uk

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“Bull” at the Young Vic

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Mike Bartlett’s play Bull is a scorching consideration of corporate culture and bullying at work. Under an hour long, it’s remarkably powerful, as three colleagues do battle for two jobs. It’s an unfair contest, with Tony and Isobel ganging up on the “drip drip” Thomas, using underhand tricks and downright menaces to torment their co-worker into becoming the eponymous beast – and we all know what happens to bulls in the ring.

This fight is gruesome. Though darkly funny, the play is the stuff of nightmares for office workers. You really do want to hit Adam James, his performance as team-leading Tony is so good, while Eleanor Matsuura, as Isobel, gets better each moment of the show. Sam Troughton takes the part of Thomas, careful not to make him too sympathetic a character, his violent breakdown at the play’s finale superb.

Clare Lizzimore’s direction is spot on, but the show is all about Bartlett’s skillful script. Starting out the wrong side of exaggerated, with witty barbs you can just about imagine and Neil Stuke’s excellent appearance as the ruthless boss, more convincing that Alan Sugar (in real life), Bartlett becomes increasingly daring. Thomas loses the job but his humiliation isn’t complete. Even though the competition is over Isobel circles her prey with an offensive rationale that makes a chilling conclusion.

Until 14 February 2015

www.youngvic.org

Photo by Simon Annand

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“Charles III” at Wyndham’s Theatre

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Mike Bartlett’s biggest hit to date, Charles III, has made a much-deserved transfer to the West End after rave reviews at the Almeida. Billed as a ‘future history play’, Bartlett imagines Prince Charles ascending to the throne and a constitutional crisis that arises when he refuses to sign a bill privileging privacy over the freedom of the press.

As well as being topical and very funny, the ideas are so outlandish – especially the presence of Princess Diana’s ghost – that it might all have turned out a bit silly. But it works. Royally. With a set of buzzing performances headed by a superb Tim Pigott-Smith in the title role, all the actors manage a fine balance between impersonation and a deeper intent. There are laughs at first, but these are well-developed roles and the serious subject matter is fascinating. Director Rupert Goold is uncharacteristically restrained; he knows the play speaks for itself.

Bartlett takes on the Shakespearean mantle with courage and panache. The play is written in verse, a demanding choice that adds humour and holds the attention. References to Shakespeare’s plays are light; it’s not so much the form and language that Bartlett borrows from the Bard as those ambitious themes of responsibility, family and identity – all of which are dealt with so intelligently that the royal soap opera is left far behind.

Not that the house of Windsor doesn’t make great raw material. The drama of youth vs experience, so ably depicted by Princes Harry and William (two sides of Shakespeare’s Hal?), is embraced by actors Richard Goulding and Oliver Chris. Imagining future events in such a fashion makes the heritage of Shakespeare’s history plays a kind of prism, creating layers of speculation. Bartlett handles the possibilities with wit, ensuring that Charles III  is both entertaining and unpredictable, while raising big questions and creating real pathos.

Until 31 January 2015

Photo by Johan Persson

Written 23 September 2014 for The London Magazine

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“Chariots of Fire” at Hampstead Theatre

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The Hampstead Theatre’s production of Chariots of Fire couldn’t be more timely. As Olympic fever approaches London, this crowd-pleasing show capitalises on the long treasured memory of the film and the Vangelis soundtrack, highlighting those abstract ideals sport inspires. More remarkably, even if you don’t like sport, and concur with one character that “running is for hamsters and children”, the play is broad enough to win you over as well.

Mike Bartlett’s respectful adaptation makes the translation from film to stage a comfortable one and faultlessly attends to the personal drama of the two main characters, Olympic runners and rivals Harold Abrahams and Eric Liddell. And Bartlett is also good on the bigger themes: the religious beliefs of Liddell, who famously refused to run on the Sabbath, and the anti-Semitism experienced by Abrahams. But when it comes to examining nationhood and what it means for these men to represent their country, the play becomes a little trapped in its period: it’s all too jolly, and Abrahams’ drive to be a new kind of professional athlete leaves less of an impression than the smoking amateurs that provide the laughs – the use of Gilbert and Sullivan is inspired, but singing Jerusalem goes a bit too far.

Sport and drama mix well. The sheer Olympian effort of the cast, who seem to run a marathon during the show, is awe-inspiring. The performances from the leads, Jack Lowden and James McArdle, are meticulous. Their teammate Tam Williams, who plays the swaggering Lord Lindsey, almost manages to steal the show by getting some hurdling in. Hampstead is an intimate venue that makes designer Miriam Buether’s set all the more spectacular – transforming the whole theatre into a stadium in convincing, rousing fashion – she clearly deserves a medal.

But it is director Edward Hall who gets the gold. You might think you can only run around a theatre so many times – but Hall’s theatrical invention makes each occasion interesting and he maximises the drama of every race. It’s his skill that makes Chariots of Fire run so well. Regardless of the performance of British athletes at the upcoming games, in 2012 British theatre certainly leads the field.

Until 16 June 2012

www.hampsteadtheatre.com

Written 23 May 2012 for The London Magazine

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“Love, Love, Love” at the Royal Court

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Playwright Mike Bartlett is very much the man of the moment: notable productions at the National Theatre have established his success as a writer keen to tackle current issues. Love, Love, Love sees his return to the Royal Court, where he was previously Pearson writer in residence, with a play that looks at recent history.

The story of a couple, presented in three acts, showing them as students, middle-aged parents and in retirement, has created characters that must be a joy for the performers. Victoria Hamilton and Ben Mills are both superb. Charting their impetuous elopement when young, their marital breakdown and their reconciliation, the pace of both writing and delivery are perfectly handled by director James Grieve. The laborious scene changes involved in Lucy Osborne’s design slows things down, but Bartlett’s control and the acting are so strong that the play remains compelling.

Love, Love, Love aims to be more than a family drama and here it does slightly less well. With an eye on the news, Bartlett is looking at the baby-boomer generation: where they come from, what they did and what their legacy will be. It’s entertaining stuff; of course it’s easy to mock the hippies, especially when they become yuppies. Any line bemoaning the fact that you live in Reading is going to go down well in Sloane Square.

Bartlett’s observations might be too tentative for some, too conservative for others, but his satire gets the laughs and the delivery from Hamilton in particular is show stopping. But doubts are raised. Surely a couple that grew up in the 60s wouldn’t think the occasional cigarette in later life the height of debauchery and the effect their parenting has on both their children is overstated.

Commendably, Bartlett’s story takes into account not just the predicament of the now middle-aged children of the baby boomers but their own perspective in older age – they feel they have worked hard and don’t understand their children’s reactions to their success. This is a story we hear less often and it’s a twist that should make you think, whatever your age.

Until 9 June 2012

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Johan Persson

Written 5 May 2012 for The London Magazine

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“13” at the National Theatre

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After the success of last year’s Earthquakes in London, Mike Bartlett’s return to the National Theatre with his new play, 13, has something of triumph about it. Promotion to the grand Olivier Theatre would be a dream for most playwrights, but Bartlett seems undaunted and bravely presents us with a fear-fuelled nightmare that’s ambitious, big and bold.

It’s one nightmare, to be specific, spookily shared by 13 different people. This clever device shows a disparate section of society, from a cleaning lady to the Prime Minister (Geraldine James on excellent form), all living in anxious times and searching for something to believe in.

It would be impossible to mistake Barlett’s version of the future as the very nearly now – social networking, riots on the streets, economic catastrophe and the threat of war – it’s all highly topical, with enough iPads on stage to make Steve Jobs smile down on us. As if this weren’t enough, Bartlett introduces religion as a fulcrum to his play. A central messianic character, John, performed with gnomic intensity by Trystan Gravelle, raises yet more questions and heightens the dramatic stakes.

Thea Sharrock’s direction and Tom Scutt’s design match Bartlett’s vision. With the Olivier’s revolve used to great effect, this is a precise production, technically impressive and rewardingly theatrical. The dreams the cast share, full of “monsters and explosions”, are complemented by spectacular lighting design from Mark Henderson.

After detailing a depressing catalogue of ills that beset our world in fantastically dynamic fashion, the pace changes to present a debate between the PM, the prophetic John and Danny Webb who plays an atheist academic with commanding presence.

It’s possible Bartlett has a young audience in mind for 13 – a crowd fresh for debate and highly engaged. If so, then I applaud him. But, despite Bartlett’s skill, the ideas behind 13 don’t match the novelty of their execution. It isn’t that the issues aren’t important or interesting, rather that they have been debated so many times before. What is impressive is that Bartlett presents them with a degree of impartiality seldom seen. And that is a very grown-up thing indeed.

Until 8 January 2012

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Marc Brenner

Written 28 October 2011 for The London Magazine

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“Earthquakes in London”at the National Theatre

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Of the several excellent productions this summer from the Headlong Theatre Company, none has created quite the buzz of Earthquakes in London at the National Theatre’s Cottesloe auditorium.

Headlong’s star director Rupert Goold takes charge. While Broadway gave his production of Enron a drubbing, London loves Goold – and rightly so. A director of great style, his bag of theatrical tricks belies a precise hand adept at delivering unforgettable shows. Goold brings all his invention and courage to Earthquakes in London. He has to – Mike Bartlett’s play could easily have seemed unstageable.

Creating a time-travelling story of environmental apocalypse, Bartlett flirts with the past and future, but his play is really about the present – a condemning vision of our apathy and arrogance. Unashamedly political, if occasionally obtuse, the passion displayed is admirable. Akin to the National’s production of Rattigan’s After the Dance, the question that frustrates and angers is how society can carry on the party in the face of catastrophe.

Bartlett’s uncanny gift for characterisation shows his skill as a writer. While the wry observations on modern life are sometimes predictable, they can seldom be argued with and if the scope of his ambition doesn’t always pay off, his emotional insight creates a recognisable world of believable people.

Lia Williams is brilliant as Sarah, a newly appointed Lib Dem minister struggling with the conflict between her ideals and power. Lia has brought up her sisters: Jasmine (Jessica Raine) has ended up as a “natural disaster”, angry as only a post baby boomer can be, while heavily pregnant Freya (Anna Madeley) is given a haunting depiction that matches this harrowing role.

A massive cast live their lives around these women. Even their husbands, both men in crisis and played wonderfully by Tom Goodman-Hill and Geoffrey Streatfield fail to connect with them. Their father Robert (Bill Patterson) is a prophet whose vision of the future removes him from his family and provides this bleak play’s most exigent moments. Always surprising, Earthquakes in London is an epic with the most unusual hero as Bryony Hannah excels in two roles that show her enviable versatility.

But the stars of the show are designer Miriam Buether and the technical team at the National Theatre. Transforming the Cottesloe to an unprecedented extent makes the night exciting from the start. Performing amongst the crowd and in two pillbox stages at either end allows the breakneck speed required. It provides memorable tableaux and builds up connections that add further to an already rich work. The evening is often overwhelming, but it is never confusing. This is compulsive viewing that will run amok in the mind for a long time to come.

Until 22 September 2010

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Manuel Harlan

Written 5 August 2010 for The London Magazine