“Travesties” at the Menier Chocolate Factory

17 October 2016 Edward Lukes

Wearing his director’s hat, Patrick Marber has excelled with this revival of Tom Stoppard’s 1974 play. A characteristically dense affair, it uses the flawed reminiscences of an English diplomat in Zurich, one Henry Carr, to bring together Lenin, James Joyce and Tristan Tzara, thus covering politics, literature and art. You need to pace yourself to keep up.

Formally inventive, Stoppard uses speeches, verse and songs, while modifying Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest (if you need a reason, Carr performed the play in his youth). The elderly Henry suggests his memoirs could be a collection of sketches, and Marber embraces this to create some vaudeville scenes worthy of Cabaret Voltaire. Carr’s dementia is a wicked parallel to free association, ironically utilised in this satisfyingly controlled puzzle of postmodern plenitude.

Carr observes that as an artist you have to “pick your time and place” and in choosing such a fertile moment in European history, applying his own frame and distorting it, Stoppard has the audience enthralled. OK, it’s difficult to imagine many erudite enough to get their heads around the whole thing (you’d have to be as clever as, well, Tom Stoppard), but it’s great fun trying to keep up. It’s so crammed with humour that getting just half the jokes makes it worth it.

There’s a lot going on in Henry’s head, and Tom Hollander’s finest moments come when memories overwhelm his irascible character. Playing his younger self, he makes the comedy work hard. Stoppard even provides the review for his lead actor: parts don’t come much more demanding than this and Hollander really is superb. This this is a technically brilliant performance, the aged voice truly remarkable.
The rest of the cast seem spurred on by Hollander’s star turn, making each role memorable. Freddie Fox is superbly cast as the decadent Tzara – his switch to Wildean mode is faultless. Peter McDonald and Forbes Masson manage to make, respectively, Joyce and Lenin men you can laugh with as well as at. Clare Foster and Amy Morgan’s witty singing battle as Cecily and Gwendolen is a highlight in a show that has no shortage of brilliant moments. Stoppard and Marber run from any potential the play might have toward pretention. Just don’t forget to take a breath yourself.

Until 19 November 2016

www.menierchocolatefactory.com

Photos by Johan Persson

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“Oil” at the Almeida Theatre

16 October 2016 Edward Lukes

Ella Hickson’s time-travelling play overflows with contemporary concerns. Scene one shows the not-so-good life of Cornish farmers in 1889. It’s followed by a trip to Tehran in 1908, Hampstead in 1970 and a couple of forays into the future. All show the consequences of oil, or the lack of, in society. Each scene is played around the dynamic of a mother called May (Anne-Marie Duff), Orlando-like over the centuries, with her daughter, Amy, who appears just conceived, aged eight, as a teen and as a middle-aged woman. You can’t doubt the play’s ambition.

The danger here is in overwhelming your audience. Hickson manages to stop her play feeling like an online search for conspiracies with the help of director Carrie Cracknell’s inventive staging and some deliciously mischievous humour. It’s a self-consciously crazy affair, with an experimental feel that has a certain charm. But there are moments of confusion. The box-of-tricks set by Vicki Mortimer has distracting elements, while repeated motifs that steer the audience are effortful. And there’s also a pop song (by Justin Bieber) – an overused trend I wish would stop.

The combination of global politics and gender studies is original and startling. Matching empire and parenthood produces some charge, not least an excoriating invective when Amy’s boyfriend (Sam Swann) is dispatched by May – the play’s best scene. But depressingly, the insights here aren’t revelatory, even if they are well delivered. Scenes set in the past don’t privilege historical accuracy, those looking to the future have silly touches; both are a little too obvious about how we live now, giving rise to a sense of naïvety. This is a young writer who sees the world getting worse and is angry about it. Fair enough. An impressive, almost intimidating energy drives the play, but it lacks control.

Oil is grim stuff. Hickson is harsh on all, not just those from the past, and the play’s themes of loneliness and narcissism, allied to the selfishness of Empire, create affecting moments. Trying to help is a confusing thing and the future will be lonely and (literally) cold. Unfortunately, cynicism overwhelms the text. It’s hard to knock a play with so many ideas, a good deal of them well executed. But it’s only Duff, seconded by Yolanda Kettle who plays her daughter over the centuries, who manages to inject some real feeling and provide a reason to see the play.

Until 26 November 2016

www.almeida.co.uk

Photos by Richard H Smith

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“Father Comes Home From The Wars” at the Royal Court

14 October 2016 Edward Lukes

This American Civil War story, much lauded in the US, comes in three parts, following the adventures of its main character, a slave called Hero. Opening with a debate over his ‘choice’ to accompany his master to war, the second act sees a similar dilemma – an encounter with a Yankee soldier that presents him with an opportunity to escape. Finally, Hero returns home a traumatised man. All three vignettes are strong and cumulatively powerful.

Are you waiting for a twist? There is one, of course – playwright Suzan-Lori Parks’ inspiration is Homer. Character names are enough of a clue (a dog called Odyssey has a talking role in the final scene) but also note that, in true Greek style, songs play an important part and there’s a distinct lack of action on stage. So there’s highfalutin analysis to be done here, for sure. Above that is Parks’ skill at story telling. Simple. This is an emotive tale of twisted interdependence. Politics aside, the psychology is fascinating, the writing clever but never tricksy. The concept might sound contrived but it’s a back-to-basics approach that works.

The show is also superbly acted. Steve Toussaint as Hero deserves to be singled out. Having to shoulder so many dilemmas, it’s an achievement to hold the audience so confidently. Working with him is an excellent ensemble – a chorus of fellow slaves who return in the finale as runaways, comprising Sibusiso Mamba, Jason Pennycooke and Sarah Niles. Special mention also to Nadine Marshall as Hero’s love, Penny, whose accent is superb and who ensures the emotions in Parks’ riff on the theme of loyalty.

The play’s questions of identity need little further stress – restraint is the key and with this director Jo Bonney’s job is well done. Moments of direct address or the use of modern costume feel like guiding hands rather than gimmicks, so deftly are they handled. Parks is a shrewd observer of history, an original thinker and technically accomplished. But she also has a sincere eye – with a watch on contemporary resonances and why these lives matter – that confronts the audience and sends a chill down the spine.

Until 22 October 2016

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Tristram Kenton

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“The Boys In The Band” at the Park Theatre

10 October 2016 Edward Lukes

You’d be excused for an arched eyebrow over the revival of Mart Crowley’s inspirational 1968 play. So much has changed since this iconic gay text threw a spotlight on a small section of a marginalised community that the play is bound to feel dated. Thankfully, while some jokes do feel old, a couple inexcusably so, Adam Penford’s pacey revival, with the help of a superb cast, makes this a lively night out that stands up well.

A birthday party is hosted by the initially charming Michael, whose demons get the better of him as he concocts a painful game – forcing people to telephone their one true love – with the seeming aim of making his guests as miserable as he is. Ian Hallard makes the most of this meaty role, showing a vicious edge that is riveting while never alienating the audience.

Hallard’s chemistry with his old roommate Alan, who makes a surprise appearance with predictable comedy results, is well studied. When this closeted character, ably handled by John Hopkins, breaks down it’s still a shock. All the more credit as the conservative fiction Alan hides behind seems especially weak. Both Hopkins and Hallard do well to preserve the drama here.

The unhappy birthday celebrations are for Harold, played by Mark Gatiss, who makes an appearance as the first act closes. Too clever for anybody’s good, especially Michael’s, Harold’s waspish remarks cut deep and Gatiss makes each one go a long way, balancing humour and emotional perception no matter how short each line. It’s a cumbersome role, with touches of a narrator, that’s cleverly made light work of.

As for the rest of the guests, the ensemble is one you would invite to any production. They include a top-notch comedy turn from James Holmes as the effeminate Emory, ably abetted by Bernard (Greg Lockett) and the excellent Daniel Boys as the studious Donald, who superbly anchors the play. A troubled couple, whose affection for one another is sincere, are made convincing by Ben Mansfield and Nathan Nolan. Even Jack Derges as a hustler hired as a present for the night gets laughs out of a slim part.

With the exception of Hallard’s role, all the parts are pretty thin. Crowley’s desire to express a spectrum of characters and opinions gets the better of him and never quite works. More credit to the cast. The plot could be generously described as functional. The production, though, makes the play more than the sum of is parts – full of memorable touches and great laughs – and it’s an achievement worth celebrating.

Until 30 October 2016

www.parktheatre.co.uk

Photos by Darren Bell

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“Kenny Morgan” at the Arcola Theatre

7 October 2016 Edward Lukes

Mike Poulton’s new play is described as being “after” Terence Rattigan’s The Deep Blue Sea. Provoking a fascinating relationship between the texts, Poulton exposes the real story of what inspired Rattigan’s work – the suicide of the writer’s eponymous former partner – giving a lesson in gay history and intelligently exploring a tragic love triangle.

This is accomplished writing. With impeccable period detail, and well-researched biographical layers, the play has you reaching for a copy of both texts. Those having seen the National Theatre’s recent production of the Rattigan are in for a game of compare and contrast. But Kenny Morgan is more than a companion piece. Using insights into the closeted world of post-war Britain, Poulton raises themes of shame and hope, dealing sensitively with the subject matter of despair.

Lucy Bailey’s direction is commendable in its restraint, her frequent adventurous streak held back. Crafting an old-fashioned feel, slow-paced, with momentum gradually building, Bailey understands what is needed. She has also secured some tremendous performances that confirm the show is worthy of the blanket praise received from critics during its first sell-out run earlier this year.

Paul Keating is remarkable in the title role. Trapped in a loveless relationship with a young man of astounding selfishness (made credible by Pierro Neil-Mee), Kenny’s hysteria is perfectly controlled by Keating. Frustration and tension mount as the hopelessness of his situation becomes clear, and his final plea is truly distressing. In the background is the famous writer Rattigan, part of the “silk dressing gown and cigarette holder set”, still in love with Kenny but unable to offer him public recognition. Rattigan’s public persona, constructed at a cost, makes this a layered role performed to perfection by Simon Dutton.

Also impressive are those living in the boarding house with Kenny, who help to propel the play’s drama. Marlene Sidaway is superb as a char, whose sly remarks about “musicals” add humour, but whose concern is genuine. Likewise, Matthew Bulgo plays a clerk unnerved by Kenny’s intensity and glamorous connections. Finally a former doctor, who gives the most articulate consideration of Kenny’s situation, provides George Irving with a role he is hugely impressive in. These well-rounded characters create a populous world outside the theatrical milieu Kenny is haunted by, opening up Poulton’s play to make it far more than any afterthought to another work but a standalone piece of great strength.

Until 15 October 2016

www.arcolatheatre.com

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“Plastic Figurines” at the New Diorama Theatre

29 September 2016 Edward Lukes

The Manchester based Box of Tricks Company has, thankfully, brought this admirable show to London again. Director Adam Quayle’s finely honed production of this short, tightly written two-hander is the moving story of Rose and her autistic brother Michael, who deal with their mother’s illness and death while struggling to cope with their life together.

The performances are first class. Vanessa Schofield plays a young woman with the responsibility of caring for a sibling thrust upon her. There’s a terrific balance of “sad and scared”, alongside sincere affection for the boy. As Rose tries to deal with her own grief, Schofield’s performance becomes increasingly impressive. Jamie Samuel’s Michael is a close study: his reaction to physical contact or dirt treads a fine line between being moving and distressing. And his obsession with the toys that give the play its title is thoroughly observed.

Playwright Ella Carmen Greenhill isn’t shy of sentimental touches. The subject matter calls for emotional catches, of course – poignant moments that stop you in your tracks – but any predictable touches, a letter to be read after their mother’s death or an uncharacteristic moment of emotion on Michael’s part, are justified by results. This is an affecting text that shows great potential. Good writing, great performances, a show to see.

Until 22 October 2016

www.newdiorama.com

Photo by Richard Davenport

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“Imogen” at Shakespeare’s Globe

26 September 2016 Edward Lukes

Matthew Dunster’s new production of Shakespeare’s Cymbeline is bravely “renamed and reclaimed”. Focusing on the female lead – after all, she has the majority of the lines – is enlightening and provides a star role for Maddy Hill that she proves commanding in. This new take on Shakespeare fits well with artistic director Emma Rice’s vision for the Globe.

Praise first: Dunter’s ability to tell the story is superb. Cymbeline has a complicated plot with plenty of disguises but this production is a model of clarity. The idea of updating the play, with contemporary gang culture and the drug trade is good. The use of voiceovers is inspired. Likewise, casting a deaf actor (William Grint), signing his role as one of Imogen’s long-lost brothers, brings out raw emotions marvellously. There’s a declaratory style that some performers struggle with, and ironically feels old fashioned, but the physicality of this show is commendable.

The biggest coup comes from the work of designer Jon Bausor and choreographer Christopher Akrill. Bausor uses a giant plastic curtain and strip lights to set the scene. Purists won’t like the fact that the theatre’s charm isn’t taken into account, but the cinematic feel of the design is visually arresting and in keeping with the whole. Akrill’s dance adds poetic moments and makes the fight scenes stunning, so much so that bursts of aerial acrobatics seem unnecessary.

But while it all looks great, there’s a flaw here. Cymbeline is a notoriously difficult play, with a plot defying credulity and a final scene so full of revelations it is difficult not to laugh. Unfortunately, Dunster seems determined to play the whole thing for comedy.

Attempts to reflect the violence of this society are unsuccessful. Only Jonathan McGuinness in the title role manages to be frightening. The rest of the cast are hampered by too many interjections just for laughs. Matthew Needham’s Giacomo is a case in point; the disturbing scene where he spies on Imogen in bed becomes a lark. Suffering most is Cloten, played with conviction by Joshua Lacey: the role is reduced to a strutting cock (yes, we get the joke) and a character that should be terrifying becomes a lame joke.

Time after time humour deflates tension, leaving the text flat. There seems little faith in the play’s power to move an audience and the outcome is monotone if not monotonous. Dunster plays out his strategy boldly – credit to him – I just happen to disagree with it.

Until 16 October 2016

www.shakespearesglobe.com

Photo by Tristram Kenton

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“No Man’s Land” at Wyndham’s Theatre

22 September 2016 Edward Lukes

The star billing of Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart is undoubtedly the draw for this revival of Harold Pinter’s 1974 play. Masterclass is the term the critics use, quite rightly, and fans of these greats won’t be disappointed. It’s encouraging to see followers of Star Trek and Tolkien take a trip to the theatre, and the crowd during my visit showed a degree of respect welcome in any audience. This is a strong production, and yet, while the devotees clearly had a good time seeing their idols, fans of Pinter may be less satisfied.

Director Sean Mathias has a keen eye for the entertainment value of this play – his strength is in his appreciation of Pinter’s humour. McKellen benefits most. As a down-at-heel, unsuccessful poet, yet “free man”, who unwittingly becomes the guest of a famous literary savant, he cuts a chipper figure and makes the dialogue light, with lots of laughs. Stewart’s role is more obviously subtle. Deadpan humour combines with poignancy in a character who lives in a privileged “world of silk” but is haunted by the past, losing his mind and waiting to die. Despite a few clichéd Pinter pauses, quiet, awkward moments are brief and it’s all surprisingly sprightly.

Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart joined by Damien Molony and Owen Teale

This is fast and funny Pinter and a pleasant take on the play. But a price has to be paid. As the encounter between these two men becomes more surreal, Stewart can convey tragedy but McKellen’s desperation isn’t convincing. Playing for laughs, the companions who look after Stewart’s character lack menace: Owen Teale and Damien Molony have presence but their roles become purposeless. Pinter’s sharp eye on class and its “quaint little perversions” become rather toothless and nostalgic. Matthias may intrigue newcomers to Pinter, and the performances make the production worth seeing, but this is a flat and disappointing version of a complex play.

Until 17 December 2016

www.nomanslandtheplay.com

Photos by Johan Persson

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“Torn” at the Royal Court

21 September 2016 Edward Lukes

The upstairs auditorium at Sloane Square has been stripped back (I didn’t even know the space had windows) by designer Ultz, for Nathaniel Martello-White’s new play. The gathering of an extended family to discuss their painful past is part community meeting part trial, with memories explored and dissected.

Their shared secret is a painful one – the childhood abuse of Angel, who has convened this conference. The play is full of discomforting observations on race and aspiration, offering insight into the impact of abuse on a whole family. Traces of neglect that go back a generation, and anger and confusion carried forward, are painfully rendered and cumulatively overpowering.

Credit to director Richard Twyman, aided by a superb cast, for marshalling a show that, even at 90 minutes long, feels mammoth. Seated in a circle for a lot of the play, we can look anywhere at any time for a committed performance. Franc Ashman, Lorna Brown, Kirsty Bushell and Indra Ové are equally praiseworthy as the four sisters but, if there is a lead credit, Adelle Leonce as Angel fully deserves it. The men in the cast are strong too, with James Hillier grabbing attention as Angel’s stepfather.

With a touch too much backstory for some characters and at least one superfluous subplot, the play’s construction feels overworked. But its formal qualities are adventurous and memorable. Scenes are not presented chronologically. Action and dialogue overlap. Who is remembering what is seldom pinned down. As if all that weren’t demanding enough, there’s some odd language, including clunky flights of fancy, with group discussions interspersed with internal dialogues, one-to-one fights and characters moving back in time to younger stages of life. Various cast members also adopt the role of the grandmother (confusing if you didn’t sneak a peek at the programme before hand).

I was reminded of a video installation, which is one of the character’s jobs, such as Ragnar Kjartansson’s multi-screen show at the Barbican: the audience decides which character to follow. Or a party game played in the piece, where characters making animal noises have to ‘zone in’ on their designated partner. There’s a fine line between all this being engaging and being just a turn off. At times, Torn appears simply obtuse. It’s the author’s prerogative to decide how much aid he gives an audience. I confess I could have done with a little more help here.

Until 15 October 2016

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Helen Maybanks

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“A Lovely Sunday For Creve Coeur” at the Print Room

21 September 2016 Edward Lukes

Even a cursory knowledge of Tennessee Williams’ women raises expectations of this rarely performed play, which has no fewer than four female characters. A group of middle-aged singletons gather in cheap accommodation on a hot afternoon in St Louis, so you can imagine how the writer of Blanche DuBois and Maggie the Cat might go to town on them. But the most intriguing thing here is Williams’ restraint.

Debbie Chazen, Julia Watson and Hermione Gulliford

Bodey is a mother hen, portrayed brilliantly by Debbie Chazen, who makes the character easy to root for as she clucks over her roommate Dorothea (Laura Rogers), who has fallen for her no-good boss. They are joined by their depressed neighbour, a difficult role, mostly in German, that Julia Watson does well with. And paying an urgent visit is Dorothea’s colleague Helena, a “well dressed snake” and snob, seeing “absolute desolation” in the homely apartment. If the waspish lines, delivered impeccably by Hermione Gulliford, please the crowd, there’s also a touching monologue about her loneliness. True, these women have agendas. But they aren’t all devious or downright delusional (a common Williams trait), with hopes, dreams and a self-awareness that are entirely down to earth.

The production appreciates what might even be called a prosaic streak. Director Michael Oakley has crafted a tight domestic drama, with grandeur coming from Fotini Dimou’s impressive set and the appropriate shabby-chicness of the venue itself. Dorothea comes closest to a standard Williams heroine: we are warned she has a “Southern Belle complex”. Whether Rogers’ performance is wary enough of this is debatable. The play’s anticlimactic revelations and speculation on “the long run” (the future obsesses these women) may seem like small beans from a writer who usually dealt with higher stakes, but this play has a quiet appeal all its own.

Until 7 October 2016

www.the-print-room-org

Photos by Catherine Ashmore