Tag Archives: Royal Court Theatre

“Cowbois” at the Royal Court Theatre

Into a no-name town, sometime when the West was wild, walks a wanted man. He’s doubly in demand because all the guys who used to live there have gone missing. The twist is that he’s transgender. Cue the show’s sell, that Cowbois is “a rollicking queer Western like nothing you’ve seen before”. They aren’t joking. Charlie Josephine’s show, which they co-direct with Sean Holmes, is tough to describe. 

I guess, in a way, we have seen Westerns like this before – Josephine is playing with cliches. It’s a sensible genre to adopt if you want to explore masculine identity. The story itself is solid, the characters well written, and the twists great. Oh, and the show is a romance, with fantasy thrown in, powered by two superb central performances from Sophie Melville, as saloon owner Lillian, and Vinnie Heaven as the bandit on the run, Jack.

All the tropes make the show funny, and the cast play up to them brilliantly. Melville and Heaven have a great handle on the humour and are aided by energetic performances from, in particular, Emma Pallant and Lucy McCormick. Paul Hunter has a great turn as a drunk sheriff on another journey of self-discovery. It’s affirming and inclusive (of course), even jolly – but none of this goes far enough to pin down what’s going on.

The energy does dip. Maybe it’s a deliberate irony that when the men come home, the play sags; there’s tension but we care less about the new arrivals and the comedy takes a while to get back up to speed. There are too many stories to do justice to. Sensitive performances from Lee Braithwaite and Bridgette Amofah seem wasted – maybe that’s just an indication of how interesting all the characters are? But the show does get a little messy.

Music goes a long way to hold everything together – Jim Fortune’s work, and the onstage band, are superb. Heaven has a voice that is… well, they are aptly named. Indeed, Cowbois’ biggest failing is that we don’t get more songs. But what really solidifies the show is the excellent movement work, credited to Jennifer Jackson. Highlighting how performative gender is and adding touches of fantasy through choreography, the way everyone moves is worth paying attention to. A marked majority of the show is played to the audience – Josephine and Holmes highlight how aware of they are of us. The result is compelling. Maybe, magnetic is the word I’m searching for?

Cowbois gets crazy. Even before the finale, featuring a slapstick shootout (great fun), there are party scenes that mix violence and euphoria in a startling fashion. “If in doubt dance” might sum up the approach. And, by the way, a show-stopping cameo from LJ Parkinson, as a bounty hunter hoping to catch Jack, is jaw-dropping. Josephine has created a unique, uncanny world that pushes towards something new. Theatre often provides a space to invent and imagine – to play, in a way – but to take a show to this extreme is audacious. What’s the right word for Cowbois? I’ve got it. Fearless.

Until 10 February 2024

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photos by Henry T © RSC

“That Face” at the Orange Tree Theatre

It’s hard to believe Polly Stenham was just 19 when she wrote her award-winning play. Fifteen years after its première at the Royal Court, this solid, focused writing feels just as fresh, while its harsh yet humorous look at mental health is as urgent as ever.

Parentification is the theme (that’s from the programme) as mother Martha is looked after by young son Henry. These are tremendous roles for Niamh Cusack and Kasper Hilton-Hille. Cusack’s experience means she can make her character magnetic. While her actions are upsetting, even inexcusable, traces of the woman she was before illness are clear. Martha’s own trauma makes her sympathetic and her love for Henry is twisted but indisputable. Hilton-Hille makes a professional stage debut whose precociousness mirrors Stenham’s back in 2007. It is heart-wrenching to see how the youth has tried to save his mother and the impact it has had. Henry is “a good boy with bad parents” but there is a frightening rage to the writing and performance that Hilton-Hille conveys brilliantly.


Youth is what we’re about – which makes sense – but also makes Martha a mystery. And the only other adult role suffers. Dominic Mafham does an excellent job as the absent father, arriving from Hong Kong late in the day. But while the character deserves the blame he gets, such finger pointing comes close to simplistic and his inclusion in the play feels rushed.

That-Face-Kasper-Hilton-Hille-and-Ruby-Stokes-credit-Johan-Perrson
Kasper Hilton-Hille and Ruby Stokes

On firmer ground, the play tries hard to be more than a shocker, and director Josh Seymour does well to bring out ambivalence – Martha and her boy aren’t allowed to steal the show. A daughter provides an excellent role for Ruby Stokes, a second fantastic stage debut, who impresses with precious moments of restraint. She’s a foil, for sure, but still a full character – and funny. A schoolfriend is also successfully written and gives us another performance to praise, this time from Sarita Gabony. Both girls could be dismissed as spoiled brats – Stenham has a keen eye for privilege in many forms -until you see what they are going through.

There’s no doubt that That Face is fraught, possibly too much so for all tastes. But, importantly, much of the drama and self-indulgence is not just because of the teenagers. Martha’s “upside down world” is too obvious at times. And the “nightmarish quality” (cleverly reflected in Eleanor Bull’s design, which includes an excellent revolving bed) referred to is far from subtle. There are lots of uncomfortable moments that Seymour handles bravely. If some of decisions might be better suited to a less intimate venue, that might bode well for the show’s future. I could see a transfer for this one – the play and production deserve it.

Until 7 October 2023

www.orangetreetheatre.co.uk


Photos by Johan Perrson

“Black Superhero” at the Royal Court Theatre

Danny Lee Wynter’s debut play brims with wit, contemporary preoccupations and important issues. Like a lot of theatre lately, Black Superhero is concerned with representation. And the play offers valuable insight into racism and the pressure of hyper-masculinity on black men. But despite excellent performances and strong staging from director Daniel Evans, with the help of his designer Joanna Scotcher, the piece is over-stretched and confusing.

Discussions about race and gay life come via three friends: David, Raheem, and King.  The trio are actors who, as actors do, talk about casting and in particular casting straight actors in gay roles. Oh, and they talk about King’s open marriage. The ideas are well observed and the chat funny – if it sounds a bit like a Twitter feed, that shows skill on Wynter’s part. But it is only David’s sister, Kweku, who really appeals; as a voice of no-nonsense that Rochenda Sandall delivers brilliantly, she is a great character who almost steals the show.

King is a successful actor, in a superhero franchise, and Dyllón Burnside takes the part with suitable charisma. King’s liberation (or maybe his midlife crisis if you prefer Kweku’s view) results in an affair with David. The latter’s fragility is revealed in Wynter’s sensitive performance of the part. But this central role is too slight – take David’s ambitions, he is cast as Horatio but wants to be Hamlet. David needs to be given more time. Maybe as a writer, Wynter has been overgenerous to his fellow performers? There is too little tension – we can see trouble ahead for David too easily. The subjects of absent fathers, abuse and trauma, make the piece emotionally powerful but are not developed in depth.

“What kind of queer are you?”

Changes of focus prove distracting. There’s a great scene with King interrogated about his sexuality at a press junket – extremely topical and very well done. Burnside is excellent at showing a frosty charm and frustration. And there’s another subplot about a producer (a strong role that Ako Mitchell is superb in) accused in “me too” style. While both tangents connect to Wynter’s larger themes, neither is explored sufficiently.

Nor is the central conceit effectively handled. The idea that we can learn a lot about ourselves and society from who our heroes are, is a premise with potential. The idea is employed in scenes of fantasy, as David imagines the films coming to life, that are theatrical highlights. But the idea is left hanging. Working out who the superhero here is – Danny, King or maybe his sister – could be engaging but ends up a puzzle.

Until 29 April 2023

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Ajamu X

“The Glow” at the Royal Court Theatre

A supernatural spectacular, Alistair McDowall’s new play travels to the beginning and the end of time. With a central character – The Woman – who is immortal, there’s an ambition to the piece that is almost foolhardy. Thankfully, the writer’s vision is matched by Vicky Featherstone’s bold direction and superb production values.

McDowall sensibly picks the spiritualist Victorian era to start. The Woman is plucked from a cell by a medium called Mrs Lyall. There’s to be an experiment. Mrs Lyall’s wish is to become the first necromancer – I guess it’s good to have ambition – but her victim turns out to be “something other” than she could possibly imagine.

All the way through – and a lot of ground is covered – McDowall’s sense of humour is key. Mrs Lyall’s imperiousness (pity her poor son, impeccably played by Fisayo Akinade) makes her a great role for Rakie Ayola. Back and forth in time we go with a Knight from the Middle Ages in tow (a strong character well played by Tadgh Murphy). Questions of death and suffering frequently arise. That The Glow is funny but still takes itself seriously is impressive. Spooky touches are abandoned, and conspiracy theories debunked – yet the fantastical manages to convince.

The Glow is far from silly sci-fi. The Woman has played major parts in history as well as myth (exploring the relation between the two proves a distraction). But what we see are smaller stories. A retired nurse who is grieving her son (excellent performances again from Ayloa and Akinade) adds some warmth to a generally cool play.

McDowell focuses on the personal for The Woman. Asking how someone feels about being eternal might strike you as simply strange. Yet it serves to look at mortality in an original way. As the character of the nurse remarks, “trying to think about something I couldn’t imagine” is hard: it’s a step McDowall is brave enough to take.

The Glow at the Royal Court inset credit Manuel Harlan

In the difficult role of ‘The Woman’ Ria Zmitrowicz excels, giving a character who mostly wants to hide, suitable charisma. The performance, and the plot, are nicely puzzling. But there’s a sense it’s the production that is the star here. Merle Hensel’s flexible minimalist set adds style as well as menace. The lighting and sound design, from Jessica Hung Han Yun and Nick Powell, aided by Tal Rosner’s video work, is superb. McDowall has plenty of ideas yet the act of bringing them to the stage is what impresses most.

Until 5 March 2022

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photos by Manuel Harlan

“Rare Earth Mettle” at the Royal Court Theatre

Al Smith’s new play takes us to Bolivia, where tech tycoon Henry Finn and a doctor called Anna bid to mine valuable lithium. Know who your sympathies lie with? It turns out that the former’s electric cars could save the planet, while Anna’s public health project is an ethical nightmare. The dilemma is contrived – most of the plot is just to frame arguments – but the play and Smith’s characters are entertaining.

Arthur Darvill plays the parody of Elon Musk. It’s OK – it’s obvious as it’s well done. There’s a base gratification as clichés we expect are ticked off. Smith doesn’t have to be sensitive (could we feel sorry for this neuro-diverse character at some point?) and Darvill is wonderfully overblown. There’s help from a troupe of not-so-yes-men and women (including good performances from Marcello Cruz, Lesley Lemon and Racheal Ofori) just the right side of sycophancy.

Anna the NHS doctor (actually, Strategic Director of the National Institute for Health Research) is even better: a true frosty Brit with gorgeous elocution brought to the stage by Genevieve O’Reilly. With big plans, presented with frightening calm, bribery and blackmail are nothing to her. There’s a fanaticism that is fascinating. In a play that lacks surprises, I was hanging on to O’Reilly’s every word.

Rare Earth Mettle at the Royal Court credit Helen Murray
Arthur Darvill and Jaye Griffiths

Smith is understandably anxious to make sure Bolivians in the play have their say. There’s time in the spotlight for Kimsa, admirably played by Carlo Albán, who lives on the valuable salt flat. And a fictional president, portrayed with conviction as well as cheek by Jaye Griffiths. It turns out both are canny politicians. If crowd-pleasing moments are wish fulfilment, it creates a good atmosphere. And plenty of questions are raised – about history and inequality – that are obviously important.

Issues aren’t scarce in this play. Rare Earth Mettle has an excess of ideas that are far from exhausted. Again, Henry first: his creative notions (credited to his messianic streak) could be challenging if explored more. With the Bolivian characters, there are big questions about the interests of an individual versus their community (local and ultimately global). It’s with our doctor that examining themes of responsibility sit easiest – after all, life and death decisions are literally her job.

The play isn’t short. But nor is it long enough to say a lot, given how much ground it covers. Plot and argument become rushed and too far-fetched. Silly is fine (it’s funny), but predictable is not and too much of the second half can be seen coming at the interval. Hamish Pirie’s direction doesn’t help much – like Moi Tran’s design, it’s inappropriately fussy. I’m not sure what snatches of dancing or a giant pendulum add. But plenty of laughs and strong performances make this an enjoyable play.

Until 18 December 2021

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photos by Helen Murray

“Is God Is” at the Royal Court Theatre

Whether young, middle-aged or old, the women in Aleshea Harris’ play are tired. Traumatised, abused, abandoned – or all three – what drives them is anger. Revenge and rage take their toll, but for the 90-minute duration of Is God Is they create an exhilarating piece – it’s the characters and not the audience who are exhausted.

A hit in New York, the play is a good fit for the Royal Court, where we expect to see the engaging of big themes and explorations of dialogue and theatrical form. And we’re used to a dark sense of humour, which this play takes to an extreme. Is God Is succeeds all round and stands out as original.

Harris’ use of dialect and characters’ deliberate inarticulacy is sophisticated. There are influences from hip-hop and Afropunk (excuse my ignorance – I’m trusting the back of the script on that). But the blunt statements and a new level of deadpan understatement make this murderous revenge story very funny.

As for form, the road trip that twins Racine and Anaia embark on engages with movies as much as the theatre. It’s an Americana tour from the “dirty South” to a not-so-wild West that ends with a showdown. The acceptance of a circle of violence is seldom questioned – as in a movie – which is surprisingly unsettling on stage. In her mad mash-up of Cain and Abel with an inverted sacrifice of Isaac, Harris isn’t scared to create a satire of biblical proportions.

Serious subjects? The title is hardly subtle. The twins’ long-missing mother is immediately and inexplicably identified as God. And ‘She’ issues the mission of murdering their father! Harris makes sure we question free will and plays with plenty of excuses for all kinds of inexcusable behaviour. Messages and morals are skilfully slippery, and audience complicity in blood lust manipulated. For all that praise, the larger motives behind Is God Is get lost.

Firstly, some especially vivid characters prove distracting. This isn’t an even-handed issue. With the men in the show the best we get is Mark Monero’s crisp father (who only appears in the penultimate scene). But the women in the play are – in every sense – fantastic. Both Cecilia Noble and Vivienne Acheampong, two very different kinds of mothers, have great roles that they develop marvellously. More of Acheampong’s Angie would be welcome: this bored housewife, who has her own plans, adds to the mix immeasurably. As for the leads – Tamara Lawrance and Adelayo Adedayo – are barely off the stage and don’t so much hold attention as grab and throttle it: “hard end” Racine and the emotional Anaia are a consistent, entertaining and invigorating pair.

Despite the bizarre premise and having its tongue firmly in its cheek (it really is funny) Is God Is triumphs with its plotting. How old fashioned! Ola Ince’s direction, and a set full of fun and signposts from Chloe Lamford, make this bloody journey breakneck. No matter how crazy, the story is driven impeccably. Gory and tense as well as sometimes silly makes for a fascinating and memorable production.

Until 23 October 2021

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photos by Tristram Kenton

“Seven Methods of Killing Kylie Jenner” at the Royal Court

The murderous intentions within Jasmine Lee-Jones’ play – back after a sell-out run in 2019 – aren’t really aimed at a particular person. While an heiress invokes the online ire of the character Cleo, the play tackles the subject of racism. Like her creation, it is the playwright’s engagement with social media that makes this award-winning debut original and exciting.

Cleo is joined by her old friend Kara shortly after she sends a first tweet threatening Kylie. They argue, as Cleo descends into a social media storm. Tackling cultural appropriation, capitalism, and queerness – each in relation to race – makes the show an intense 90 minutes. If the women’s relationship feels by turns lost and less interesting than the issues raised, the action is firmly controlled by director Milli Bhatia.

Lee-Jones puts flesh on the bones of Cleo’s academic theories poignantly, and has a go at presenting more than one side of the argument with interjections from Kara. Through strong performances by Tia Bannon and Leanne Henlon, the debates seldom feel forced, indeed they are a great deal of fun. But it is with her language that Lee-Jones thrills: plenty of plays have tried to tackle Twitter, but this script gives the medium a run for its money.

The rhythm in Lee-Jones’ dialogue is impressive enough. And effective: talking of Jenner’s “images of herself and wealth” serves the play’s theme, but it is the neologisms and acronyms that are dazzling – if difficult – making up much of the friends’ conversation and the tweets from others that we hear as well. It can’t just be my own age that makes this tricky to follow. And do the acronyms rise in number as the play goes on? Or at moments of stress? This is a text to be studied, with every word and shorthand phrase demanding attention.

Such innovation ensures incredible respect for Bannon and Henlon’s delivery of lines learned. And personas adopted: both show online reactions with repeated phrases, exaggerated accents and otherworldly movement. The idea of Twitter as an echo chamber comes to life on stage with Rajha Shakiry’s arboreal-inspired design and brilliant work with sound from Elena Peña.

I won’t pretend to have understood every word of Seven Methods of Killing Kylie Jenner. But the combination of articulacy and (sometimes literally) nonsense, of the cerebral and the base – an effective summation of online content – is a brilliantly accomplished achievement.

Until 27 July 2021

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Myah Jeffers

“Goats” at the Royal Court

There are real goats on stage for Liwaa Yazji’s new play. Set in a Syrian village at war, the animals are given as compensation to families whose sons are said to have been martyred fighting. It’s a brilliantly repulsive idea. But bringing the animals on to the stage is misguided – they prove too distracting, creating a lack of focus indicative of a play overwhelmed by its subject matter.

Goats is sparse on specifics. Perhaps, as a Syrian documentary maker and poet, Yazji takes too much knowledge for granted from a UK audience. And, while the depiction of paranoia and the dissemination of propaganda are both effective, if the intention is for the play to serve as a parable, it is clumsy and too long.

Hamish Pirie’s direction encourages a poetic reading. There are many inventive touches and some strong imagery. But there are also too many technical shortcomings, with performances that are halting and stilted, a clumsy tackling of satire in the script and a lack of marshalling both of the text and the players that hinders comprehension.

There are some strong moments. Amir El-Masry plays returning soldier Adnan in compelling fashion. A confrontation with his family is riveting and brings out a strong performance from Souad Faress as his mother. A subsequent encounter with a grieving father, the local school teacher, Abu Firas, takes us to the kernel of a powerful plot point. These scenes are pinpointed, intimate and tense. But when the view is widened, the play falters.

Questioning the complicity of the wider society in the war needs far more exploration. Pinning so much on the character of Abu Firas makes sense, but the role isn’t fleshed out and the burden proves too much for Carlos Chahine, who struggles with the part. Similarly, the war’s effect on four youths is too cursory – it could be a play of its own. Too many nonsensical moments and untied ends result, making Goats too messy to be moving or enlightening.

Until 30 December 2017

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Johan Persson

“B” at the Royal Court

In Guillermo Calderón’s new play, three terrorists debate their plans to use a bomb. To make the show theatrically explosive, the depressingly topical subject matter is delivered with risqué comedy. B needs handling with caution; the piece gives extra meaning to the term trigger warning.

The plotters are pretty hopeless, which provides plenty of twists. Danusia Samal plays Alejandra, who hopes her bombs don’t hurt and views her protest as a kind of art work. Samal achieves the near impossible in making such a character credible. Aimée-Ffion Edwards plays Marcela, whose slowly revealed death wish provides much needed pathos. Their bomb is obtained from an older agitator, a role Peter Kaye is refreshingly restrained in. The different views and generational divide amongst the trio provide the play’s weightier moments.

Trouble is, there doesn’t feel like a lot of insight here: terrorists are troubled people. Well, yes… The play’s Chilean origin could have provided new information for a UK audience but isn’t investigated explicitly. We are left with slim, rehearsed arguments for the indefensible – and these are neither stimulating nor challenging.

Managing to make this topic funny is so bold that dismissing the play altogether is impossible. There are some good giggles around using code words for the bomb and anarchist communities. And, translated by William Gregory, poetic streams of consciousness  and clever word association compensate for the play’s failings. Director Sam Pritchard is sympathetic to this strength and the cast deliver their lines well. Deserving special praise is Sarah Niles as a mysterious neighbour. This is the one character who gets more interesting as the play goes on. Niles’ off-beat delivery shows a committed appreciation of the text’s entertaining potential.

Calderón is keen on absurdities, his style of writing is exciting and this chance to see his work in London is welcome, but this subject matter deserves more substance than he delivers.

Until 21 October 2017

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photo by Helen Murray

“The Ferryman” at the Gielgud Theatre

Superstar playwright Jez Butterworth’s latest drama was a hit before it even opened: the West End transfer was announced simultaneous to its sell-out opening at the Royal Court and a new cast will soon take the show into 2018. This long harvest day’s journey into tragedy is the story of the Carney family, farmers in Northern Ireland whose connections with the IRA haunt them. This is a big family drama – and not just due to the size of the household, but because of Butterworth’s exquisite writing.

There’s a luxurious feel to the show – although this is a working-class world – created by Rob Howell’s design and director Sam Mendes, who resists the temptation to rush a single moment. Three hours is a long running time for a new play, but every minute holds you. Above all, a huge company, including some extraordinary younger performers, are awe-inspiring. It really shouldn’t be possible to have so many characters so clearly delineated by their own compelling stories.

There’s a lot of laughter in the family, a real sense of warmth, and not a few Irish stereotypes. This has been commented on by Sean O’Hagan, better qualified than myself. To be sure, there’s a lot of whisky drinking and some gags around children swearing seem cheap, if effective. But the stories told, swirling around the discovery of a murdered family member’s body, broaden the play’s themes beyond the Troubles.

Myth and history populate the play. The past preoccupies Aunt Maggie Far Away, “visiting” from her dementia, and obsesses Aunt Pat, whose brother died in the Easter Rising: two brilliant roles engendering stunning performances from Bríd Brennan and Dearbhla Molloy respectively. Meanwhile Uncle Pat has plenty of anecdotes while, with another strong performance from Des McAleer (pictured top), enforcing the play’s theme of death, which escalates with such foreboding.

Tom Glynn-Carney
Tom Glynn-Carney

There’s a point to all the marvellously crafted yarns – The Uses of Story Telling, if you’re looking for a dissertation title. The tales form a link to violence inherited by the young. A terrific scene with four youths, led with febrile energy by Tom Glynn-Carney, shows them captivated by accounts of IRA leader Mr Muldoon (Stuart Graham) and the 1981 hunger strikers. In the shadows (there’s plenty of eavesdropping in this play – stories morph into rumour and hearsay, after all) is an even younger “wean”, skilfully depicted by Rob Malone, who is driven to desperate measures.

Laura Donnelly and Genevieve O’Reilly
Laura Donnelly and Genevieve O’Reilly

At the heart of the play is a love triangle that leads to star performances. A repressed affair between the play’s patriarch Quinn, performed with charming assurance by Paddy Considine, and his bereaved sister-in-law Caitlin, a role Laura Donnelly articulates marvellously, leads to some of the best dialogue. Although appearing relatively late, Quinn’s wife Mary is given her due through Genevieve O’Reilly’s quiet performance. The unrequited emotions of all three create an unusual love story that thrums with excitement. As Quinn’s IRA past rears its head with a tension that would please any thriller writer, Mendes’ strengths shine. The fear of what might come next hangs over the final hour of the show. Butterworth manages to juggle all this with enviable dexterity, producing a work of complexity and popular appeal.

Until 6 January 2018

www.TheFerrymanPlay.com

Photos by Johan Persson