Month: July 2014

The Crucible

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Miller’s The Crucible is one of those plays that I have always thought rather like theatrical medicine; good for you, but worthy rather than enjoyable. I knew that this exploration of the hysteria and totalitarianism that befell the Massachusetts town of Salem was meant to illustrate the Communist witch hunts in the US in the 1950s, but it took this production to remind me of the relevance that it also has for today, as we see misguided application of religious fervour renewed throughout the world.

It is lengthy; three and a half hours with interval. However, the time flew by for me. The production, done in the round, uses modern dance to illustrate the mania affected by (or affecting, who can tell) the adolescent girls involved in the spotting of the “witchcraft.” The opening sequence, in which the slave Tituba (beautifully played by Sarah Niles)  regresses from beginning as a woman to ending the sequence on all fours, is tremendously emotional.

There is not a weak link in the cast. From Samantha Colley, who humanises Abigail Williams beautifully (and reminds us that Proctor is not blameless in their affair; he had a choice in the matter and was the adult in the situation) to William Gaunt’s dauntless Giles Corey to Adrian Schiller’s moral Rev. John Hale, they all seem utterly at home in their parts and in the time frame.

Elizabeth Proctor is often a thankless role, and it can often be difficult to keep from crossing the line of self-righteousness and losing the audience’s sympathy entirely. But Anna Madeley is stunning, she has her own dignity and her own pride, and she makes us feel every line she utters. Michael Thomas as Rev. Parris is similarly well-acted, as his initial dislike of Proctor, pride and desire to avoid humiliation mean that he sets in motion a scenario he cannot control. Thomas lets us see every emotion as he realises that he has completely lost control of the situation and that true evil is being done here.

Richard Armitage is, I fear, too good-looking for the role of John Proctor. We certainly understand Abigail’s desire to retain his affections. However, he slashes into the part with furious intensity and we believe every word he utters. Only his Christian faith seemed somewhat lacking for me. But I wholeheartedly believed his desire to amend his wrong to Elizabeth and to retain his name, and not a breath was drawn during the final scenes.

A final note: this production excelled at demonstrating the utter savagery that can take hold of adolescent girls. Lacking the maturity for compassion, with hormones taking hold at every turn, they are capable of true horror. It is good to see this reality, lacking sentimentality, portrayed on stage.

This production is a stunner; do go and see it. Just figure out a pub with a late license to go to afterwards, as you won’t be out before closing time.

 

Medea

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You know going into a Greek tragedy that it’s not going to be a barrel of laughs, but Medea is even more emotionally draining than most other Greek tragedies. The story retains its power to shock, in that mothers so rarely kill their own children. Those who do are often reclassified after the fact as being mentally ill (which many of them may well be). Not Helen McCrory’s Medea. Loud, weeping, shrieking, lustful, raging and sometimes bone-tired she may be, but sanity is always present behind those luminous, huge eyes.

The ultimate outcome of this story is never a secret. Michaela Coel’s Nurse tells us in the prologue exactly what is going to happen. The significance here is not what, but how, and why. The production is set in the modern era, with Danny Sapani’s Jason rather sweetly taking a selfie with his two children. The stage is set on two levels, with the domestic drama taking place below and the wedding party of Jason and Kreusa (Clemmie Sveaas) and other public events taking place above. I am not a psychologist, but the significance of that does not escape even me.

Danny Sapani is a virile, strong and selfish Jason. It is eminently believable both that he still loves (and desires) Medea, but he has no compunctions about marrying Kreusa. Like many attractive, self-absorbed men, he wants what he wants and does not understand why the world will not rearrange itself so that he can have it. Medea is under no illusions about him, but she remains under his spell.

The Chorus move about as a unity, grasping their bridesmaids’ dresses at one stage and wearing them the next. They seem a bit young for the roles, as Medea’s appeals are to the women of Corinth as wives and mothers, not just young girls. Martin Turner’s Kreon is a king, but also a bureaucrat, and pales somewhat next to Jason.

The play is 90 minutes long, and that is about the right length for it. The action is somewhat static, as the first hour or so involves mostly backstory and setting up the action for what is to come. But when the terrible action does come, is it worth it. It is not especially gory (a bit of a relief after all the blood on London stages this summer) but it is intense.

I would say that McCrory is a revelation, but that would indicate that I was surprised by her performance, which I was not. I knew she was capable of this extraordinary performance, and have seen glimpses of her Medea in her past roles. She holds attention with her slightest movements and uses the full range of voice, movement and emotion in her arsenal. You see the tenderness and the ruthlessness, not one at a time, but together. The love and the rage are together in her. It gives you, not sympathy, but a new measure of understanding for the character. It is an incredible performance. I recommend it very highly.

Shakespeare in Love

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It is always strange to go to a play or musical based on a film, particularly one you know well. With a book, you know that the adaptation will simplify and change the material of necessity, so it will take on its own life. However, since a theatre production and a film have approximately the same running time, there is always a danger that the play or musical will lose its vitality through lack of originality. The most recent example of this that I can think of is Fatal Attraction, which was utterly dire and which is one of the very few plays I can recall where I left at the interval.

However, in the case of Shakespeare in Love, I was reckoning without two things. The first being that this is a script by Tom Stoppard, and its innate quality is such that it is virtually guaranteed to produce an enjoyable evening. And the second is that the film starred Gwyneth Paltrow, who is an actress of a certain screen presence, but not exactly a distinguished Shakespearean interpreter.

The plot is familiar; a young Shakespeare (Tom Bateman) is starting out, friends with Christopher Marlowe (David Oakes) and attempting to make a name for himself with the various theatre companies in London. Viola de Lesseps (Lucy Briggs-Owen) is a young lady who loves the theatre and wants to act. Her father (Richard Howard) is rich but has made his money in trade, and secures the engagement between Viola and posh-but-poor Wessex (Alistair Petrie). Looming over all is the presence of Queen Elizabeth I (Anna Carteret), a part in which Judi Dench memorably won an Oscar for 8 minutes of screen time.

Stoppard employs many classic Shakespearean devices, but the most prominent is that Viola disguises herself as a young man and is chosen to play the part of Romeo in Shakespeare’s play, which involves (initially at least) many protagonists, including Ethel, the Pirate’s Daughter. Shakespeare is impressed by “his” acting ability but falls in love with the undisguised Viola, when he sees her at her father’s house. The balcony scenes, in which he attempts to woo her, are among the funniest and most delightful in the play. In particular, Stoppard’s sly notion that Marlowe gave Shakespeare some of his best lines is charming.

It is well-acted throughout; Tom Bateman is an earthy, lustful Shakespeare, and we believe him when he bemoans the fact that his wife Anne Hathaway’s bed is cold. He has the ruthlessness of the man devoted to art, even as we do believe that he loves Viola. Lucy Briggs-Owen has a beautiful speaking voice and the speeches are beautiful in her hands, but her facial expressions lack variety. The role of Wessex is particularly well cast, as it was rather difficult to believe Colin Firth in the role in the film. Alistair Petrie is suitably chilly and lacking in appeal.

For me, however, the script is the star of this play. A true love letter to theatre, not without affectionate mocking, we see Stoppard’s gifts at their most whimsical. Not his most intellectual play (although of course still very clever) but a witty, charming and elegant way in which to spend an evening. Oh, and the bit with the dog is very good too.

Wimbledon Women’s Final

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I have been very fortunate to be able to attend Wimbledon several times over the years, most recently for the women’s final on Saturday. Wimbledon, as an experience, is both quintessentially English and somewhat un-English at the same time. The Queue and Henman Hill/Murray Mount are both very English, extremely polite and a little bit crazy (WHY would you choose to sit uncomfortably on a hill to watch a big TV? As the Daily Mail is fond of telling us, most of us have big TVs at home). Wimbledon as an Experience (TM), however, is a Hollywood/Disney version of itself, complete with ludicrously expensive food and drink, celebrities everywhere and not many places to sit when it rains (as it inevitably will).

The experience is very different early in the tournament, compared to later on. Early in the tournament, there are matches taking place on virtually every court, most of which have unreserved seating. As the outside courts often have more interesting and more competitive matches, many of the people with Centre Court and Court No. 1 tickets will choose to spend at least some of their time on the outer courts. It is very crowded and can be enjoyable, although I find it a bit frustrating.

Later in the tournament, however, it is much calmer. Relatively few people will queue up in order to sit on the hill or to see the outside courts, and many of the people with Centre Court tickets are on corporate tickets with private dining facilities. This means that the remainder of the shopping and dining facilities are much less crowded, and you don’t have to queue quite so long for your strawberries and cream. In addition, I noticed the presence of beer this year, which I never had before. My partner tells me that it is part of Stella Artois’ upbranding marketing campaign, in which it is attempting to remake its image from that of a beer best suited to binge-drinking and domestic violence.

I am prevaricating and should say something about the tennis. I was there, of course, to cheer on Eugenie Bouchard, Canada’s first Grand Slam finalist. She has had an amazing year thus far, reaching the semifinals at the Australian and French Open tournaments and blazing through the draw here. She did not play poorly in the final, but Petra Kvitova was utterly dominant and played beautifully, her serves powerful and her play confident and efficient. I am sure Bouchard will return again, considering her young age (20) and her immense talent.

We did not stay long after that match, but I understand that the women’s and men’s doubles matches were both very good. I do think it something of a shame that singles and doubles are now so specialised, as I used to enjoy watching yesteryears’ singles stars play doubles. I have particular affection for Venus and Serena Williams on this point, as I have enjoyed watching them play doubles together several times at Wimbledon.

Wimbledon is a wonderful tennis tournament to experience. I have also visited the US Open, which is, of course, a great tournament in its own right (much bigger, bolder, louder…more American). But I do recommend making the trek to SW19, if you are ever in London during the Wimbledon fortnight.

Twelfth Night re-imagined

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It is not often that I come away from the theatre utterly charmed. Still less does this happen at children’s theatre, which is usually well done but very much for its target audience. However, our group of two adults and a 6- and 7-year old was thoroughly enthralled by this “re-imagining” of Twelfth Night at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre.

It was a blisteringly hot afternoon and we were in full sun, so not ideal conditions for retaining children’s attention (particularly with the repeated singing of “the rain it raineth every day,” which frankly would have been most welcome). The production retained Shakespeare’s language for the most part (albeit heavily redacted) with various instructions for the audience to take part from time to time. We were slightly concerned about how the children would react to this, but they seemed to scarcely notice the anachronistic language and became absorbed in the story. Audience participation was enthusiastic, with the wave, dancing, and blowing the wind done with gusto (including by the adults in the audience, some of whom were well refreshed by the 1:30 start time).

The cast did an admirable job, with Sarah Ridgeway a fabulous Viola. She demonstrated something of the teen idol qualities of Justin Bieber/One Direction/Five Seconds of Summer (see, I’m down with the kids) in her “wooing” of Riann Steele’s Olivia. Nick Malinowski had the most difficult task, playing both Malvolio and Orsino, but he carried both off beautifully. The rest of the cast were also excellent, with particular praise due to the musical talents of Iain Johnstone (Feste/Antonio) and Vera Chok (Maria). The traditional pronunciation of the latter character’s name (“Ma-rye-ah”) was displeasing to a small person seated behind me, who insisted on several occasions that it “should be Ma-ree-ah.”

The duel scene between Cesario (Viola) and Sir Andrew Aguecheek (Guy Lewis, who also played Sebastian) was innovative, with a ringer brought in initially and the duel itself in a format that was age-appropriate and appropriate for the weather, although I would not have liked to experience it on a cold day. The production did an excellent job of explaining the various pairings, with a “love meter” brought in to demonstrate when a character had fallen for another. There were certain lines and motions that were adult in nature (it is Shakespeare, after all) but they were done fairly subtly and in a way in which children would not have picked up on.

I would not have thought, previously, that Shakespeare could have been made accessible for young children. I was wrong; full marks to the production and to Max Webster’s sterling direction. If you would like to introduce children to Shakespeare, this is an ideal way to go about it. Highly recommended.

 

Hotel

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That was certainly intense. Hotel is a new play by Polly Stenham, performed in the temporary space at the National Theatre that used to be called the Shed (I rather liked the name, but unfortunately license agreements, like the space, are temporary and finite).

Hotel is set in an upscale tropical resort, the kind where the decor is all white, the views amazing, and the minibar both tempting and extortionate. A family has just arrived. Vivienne (Hermione Gulliford) has had to resign her position as a Cabinet minister, following a scandal involving her husband Robert (Tom Beard). This scenario did not strike me as plausible. We all remember Jacqui Smith of course, but surely the scandalous aspect of her husband’s behaviour was that the pornographic films were claimed on parliamentary expenses, not simply that he had watched them.

In any event, the couple have come, along with their teenaged children Ralph (Tom Rhys Harries) and Frankie (Shannon Tarbet) to take a break and regroup following the revelations. Ralph and Frankie are typically spoilt and somewhat emotionally neglected, stealing drinks and smoking cigarettes in time-honoured forms of rebellion. Ralph fancies the hotel maid, Nala (Susan Wokoma) and flirts somewhat diffidently with her.

The action continues in the family circle, until an unexpected event occurs which ratchets up the tension and takes the play into a more political realm. I will refrain from being more specific. As an aside, theatre is one instance in which I am sympathetic to those who are sensitive about “spoilers.” In all other areas, it is the responsibility of those who do not wish to be “spoiled” to refrain from looking at mainstream or social media, not the other way around. In any event, true art can be appreciated even when one knows what is going to happen. We go to see the classical repertoire again and again despite the presence of “spoilers.” More grown people act like utter infants on this subject than on any other.

The play is a true thriller with lots of action. We are invited to consider questions of colonialism, paternalism, modern politics and of course, racism. The NT’s website describes it as exploring the “cost of integrity.” I didn’t really think that any of the characters displayed particular integrity. I felt that ultimately the play was too sympathetic to the family and to the West generally, dismissing the concerns of the local people as being unsophisticated and, in one instance, not local at all.

In the end, it seemed to come down to me to be a horror story about the ultimate fears of middle class (in this case, upper middle class) people. It was well acted throughout (with Tom Rhys Harries a particular highlight as Ralph), thought-provoking and interesting, but not as balanced or sophisticated as I think it wanted to be. I do recommend it, however, as it is a remarkable experience of pure theatrical intensity.

A Small Family Business

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Ah, the ’80s. It’s difficult to feel nostalgia for an era of greed, but the ’80s look positively quaint compared to the last decade and a half. It’s a timely revival, this attempt of the NT’s at Ayckbourn’s A Small Family Business, originally produced in 1987.

Jack McCracken (Nigel Lindsay) is an honest man who, along with various family members, runs the titular small family business. His youngest daughter Samantha (a suitably petulant Alice Sykes) has just been shoplifting, and a seedy private detective (a delightfully shabby Matthew Cottle) says that he will prosecute unless Jack gives him a job at the business. Jack sends him off, proclaiming his belief in honesty and integrity.

The other women in Jack’s life, wife Poppy (Debra Gillett) and daughter Tina (Rebecca McKinnis) berate Jack for what they deem excessive prudishness, and admit to other, minor crimes they have themselves committed. Jack then begins to discover other corruption at the business, involving his brother Cliff (an amusingly dimwitted Stephen Beckett), his brother-in-law Desmond (Neal Barry, hilariously pathetic) and their spouses, Anita (Niky Wardley) and Harriet (Amy Marston).

Niky Wardley’s Anita is a particular blowsy highlight, having affairs with a number of Italian brothers (all played by Gerard Monaco) and making the very most possible out of a meaty, fun part. Harriet is meant to be a foil to her, but I found the character so off-putting that I sympathised with Desmond’s plans for escape.

Nigel Lindsay plays Jack very well, strait-laced at the beginning but then with increasing desperation as he realises that his family are all in it up to their necks. He remains sympathetic throughout, which can’t be an easy line to walk. Debra Gillett’s Poppy is amusingly matter-of-fact about it all, as she points out that because of Jack’s honesty, they haven’t had the same standard of living as that of their friends and relatives.

Even though the references are dated (sometimes hilariously so), behind the laughs, a larger point is made. We pride ourselves on being a society without a great deal of corruption, but how honest are we really? The little fiddles, the tiny dodges, they all add up. Or perhaps it is not possible to have a society without some amount of corruption. This aspect of the play is as fresh now as it was in 1987.

The production itself is well done, with the Olivier’s stage used well, one generic house standing in for that of all the families. The costuming was a particular highlight. I remember those shoulder pads, those wrap dresses, those shiny fabrics. At least ’80s fashion was distinctive, unlike the incredibly dull ’90s.

Whilst a very professional production, well acted and thought-provoking, I did not find the laughs coming as frequently as I suspect they were intended to. Worth catching, but not unmissable.