Tag Archives: Zoë Wanamaker

“Elegy” at the Donmar Warehouse

While (seldom) questioning the subject matter a playwright chooses, some should come with a warning. With its main character suffering a degenerative brain condition, Nick Payne’s new play – brilliantly written as it is – makes for a harrowing experience. Elegy calls forth questions as topical as they are uncomfortable and nothing about this play is easy.

New techniques in nanotechnology and neuroscience are knocking at the door, and Payne explores their potential effect on a mind slipping into dementia. They may prove a miracle that extends life, but let’s not use the word cure. Memory is lost and anyone who’s read David Hume will know the consequences of this. Lorna and Carrie, who married each other late in life, find their romance has been surgically removed in the process of ‘saving’ the former. That the person she was is gone, akin to the effects of dementia anyway, is one cruel irony. Another – her inability to recognise her lover means the treatment has worked – makes matters peculiarly grim.

The play is performed backwards. We meet the women after Lorna’s treatment and retrace the steps leading to her surgery. Becoming increasingly involved with this couple, there’s a cruel twist that brought me to tears. The reverse technique, well served by Josie Rourke’s direction, builds tensions and allows three excellent actors to give mind-boggling performances. Zoë Wanamaker’s struggle with the illness is as frank as it is moving. Barbara Flynn is a revelation as her wife: engaging, appealing and torn apart. They are joined by the superb Nina Sosanya as a doctor who slowly reveals her personal motivations behind her professional mask.

It’s Payne’s superior skill with dialogue that’s the jewel here. Painful conversations feel fresh, characters’ attempts at humour and their struggle to comprehend, believable. Particularly in rendering the incoherence of stumbling, confused and truncated speech, the economy and precision of language is brave and haunting.

Science has long been a theme of Payne’s – putting people into the equation is his skill. Elegy ups the stakes and demands a great deal. At its heart is the complex question of what makes us human, encompassing faith, love, history and our responsibilities to each other. The fear that we’re on the brink of unknown territory is palpable. Away from dystopian fantasy, this play feels real enough to give you nightmares, propelling us into the messy heart of a dilemma with piercing skill.

Until 18 June 2016

www.donmarwarehouse.com

Photo by Johan Persson

“The Cherry Orchard” at the National Theatre

Director Howard Davies is well known for his work on Russian classics. Last year, his production of The White Guard did phenomenally well at the Olivier Awards. His new production of The Cherry Orchard is a quality affair from a director who doesn’t rest on his laurels.

Davies is working again with designer Bunny Christie. Her set offers the first glimpse that this is something different: there’s no trace of quaint dacha here and not a samovar in sight (for that, you have to nip into the National’s bookshop for a particularly twee display), a set is a huge barn of a place, that really is dilapidated, whose owners are in dire financial straits.

Andrew Upton joins the team again with a text that is wilfully modern. Every effort has been made to make Chekhov’s story of the landowning Ranyevskaya seem contemporary. It will certainly jar on some ears. Maybe in our credit- crunched times her poverty rings a chord, but Ranyevskaya isn’t a member of the squeezed middle. She’s a frightful snob, yet her obstinate refusal to recognise the reality of her situation is conveyed with charm by Zoe Wanamaker.

There is little sense of Ranyevskaya’s journey in this production. Like her brother Gaev (James Laurenson) she seems little aware of the times she is living in. A sense of history that Chekov certainly saw as a theme of his work is diluted, the production seems more immediate and less didactic, but it’s a trade off that is debateable.

Wanamaker’s performance is generous, allowing the other characters to shine out: stories of lovers of different ages and status, all given equal weight, bring out the plays rich complexity. Kenneth Cranham is a truly revolting Firs, playing with Emily Taaffe’s Dunyasha with great cruelty. Mark Bonnar is convincing as Petya Tromfimov, one of those scholastic characters Russian dramatists love that are so difficult to perform; his impassioned relationship with Anya (Charity Wakefield) is a highlight of the evening.

Lopakhin, the merchant whose capitalism is so much at the core of The Cherry Orchard’s historic concerns, is played by Conleth Hill with passion. Hill is perfectly farouche and, if not quite believable as the businessman who could save the estate, his fragility makes his the most moving performance of the night.

All the casts’ performances are mobile, running around in a play that is usually static. The party scene is particularly raucous. These Russians know how to live it up but, of course, not how to live. The pain as they all try to find a place for themselves in their changing world easily transcends historical circumstance. Davies preserves the philosophical dilemma at the heart of The Cherry Orchard while presenting it with fresh eyes.

Until 13 August 2011

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Catherine Ashmore

Written 18 May 2011 for The London Magazine

“All My Sons” at the Apollo Theatre

Now is a good time to revive Arthur Miller’s 1947 masterpiece All My Sons. The story of a war profiteer whose faulty goods killed U.S. airmen, is so full of moral dilemmas that it is always entertaining and powerful. But currently, as corporate responsibility is in the news and questions of social justice become vital in our increasingly divided society, All My Sons has become more important than ever.

This summer, at the Apollo Theatre, All My Sons gets the production it deserves. William Dudley’s beautiful set wins you over before the action even starts. It is the perfect stage for what at first seems to be a homely drama. In the skilful hands of director Howard Davies, this is developed into a perfect mix of touching domestic tension and complex politics expressed with intellectual vigour.

The dual concern for both family matters and society as a whole is also well expressed by the uniformly brilliant cast. Stephen Campbell Moore plays Chris Keller – having survived the war he is now in the position of taking over the family business. A devoted son and noble man, he wishes to marry his dead brother’s sweetheart – Jemima Rooper gives a superb performance in this role. Desperate for love and sharing high principles the couple are haunted by mistakes and lies that began long ago.

Chris’s parents, Kate and Joe, are presented first as a devoted older couple, so comfortable together that they share mannerisms and know each others thoughts. We come to see they are also linked by the lies they tell each other and the world. Zoë Wanamaker’s fragile Kate is hard as steel underneath. David Suchet as Joe, has the slightly harder job of showing the opposite – a genial father figure who is a mess of nerves deep down. Both actors are impeccable throughout.

Kate and Joe have a “talent for lying” and this is where the performances become truly remarkable. A frightening conviction is revealed when their backs are against the wall. Right up until the end both of them seek to control and manipulate. These are technically wonderful performances but there is even more to it than that. Wanamaker and Suchet’s skills have a purpose, their craft is well applied and functions to bring home Miller’s message. Together, they make this the play you simply must see this summer.

Until 2 October 2010

Photo by Nobby Clark

Written 3 June 2010 for The London Magazine