Yet again I have fallen behind. It’s a busy time of year! So here we have another catch-up post to get back on track.

The Red Lion (NT)
I am not immune to the allure of the beautiful game at the top level. Messi’s impossible brilliance, Cristiano Ronaldo’s frustrating perfection and even Wayne Rooney’s brutish elegance are not lost on me. But I have never really loved football for its own sake, especially at the unglamorous, semi-pro league level portrayed in Patrick Marber’s well structured three-hander. Calvin Demba, Daniel Mays and Peter Wight were very strong as the young talent, desperate manager and aging heart and soul of the club, respectively. The comedy and passion elicited by Marber from this situation were remarkable, and I found myself caring desperately about the characters. It will be interesting to see if it is revived in a couple of years, and what the state of football will be when it is. One of two beautifully written Marber plays in this round-up.

Hangmen (Royal Court)
I have always enjoyed Martin McDonagh’s plays in the past, but thought his voice uniquely Irish. So it was something of a shock to see that he is equally comfortable (or seems to be, I am far from an expert) writing in the vernacular of the north of England. This unusual and blackly comic play involving retired hangmen (capital punishment having been abolished in England in 1965) was one of the funniest and most disturbing plays I have seen in ages. A stellar cast was led by David Morrissey as Harry, a retired hangman, and Johnny Flynn as Mooney, a slightly disturbing young man who may not be quite what he seems. A scene where Mooney employs classic “negging” and pick-up artist techniques on Harry’s teenage daughter Shirley (Bronwyn James, perfectly gullible) sent shivers down my spine and made me want to buy a copy of “The Gift of Fear” for every teenage girl in the world. It’s being given a West End transfer. Go, you won’t regret it.

La Musica (Young Vic)
A short two-hander about the end of a marriage, by Marguerite Duras. It began with the couple (played by Emily Barclay and Sam Troughton in a marvel of concentration) sitting on a raised plinth with their backs to us. Cameras projected their faces to us on the wall in extreme close-up, and I must confess to marvelling at Barclay’s beautiful complexion and lack of visible pores as much as the couple’s (exquisite) acting. In the second half, the couple moved to a small area to one side, and the audience followed, surrounding them. Such an atmosphere of claustrophobia added to the tension inevitably felt by the audience. It was an effective play, but I couldn’t help but feel that it would be utterly exhausting being married to either of the narcissistic, self-absorbed characters. An interesting experiment.

Tipping the Velvet (Lyric Hammersmith)
A play written by Laura Wade (who wrote Posh, which I thoroughly enjoyed), directed by Lyndsey Turner (a director whose productions I always find thought-provoking) and based on a beautifully written book about Victorian lesbians by Sarah Waters (one of my favourite authors in the world). What could possibly go wrong? Oh dear oh dear oh dear. It looked amateurish, seemed to last forever, and worst of all, there was no chemistry between Kitty (Laura Rogers) and Nancy (Sally Messham). The cast were talented (particularly Messham, who is clearly one to watch) but not enough to keep us there. After a first half of an hour and twenty minutes and faced with a second half of about the same length of time, we decided that discretion was the better part of valour and abandoned the effort. Stick to the BBC miniseries or better yet, the book.

Three Days in the Country (NT)
You may be wondering, what happened to the rest of the month? It was truncated in this version of Turgenev’s masterpiece, simply and effectively updated by Patrick Marber. The play was once memorably described by a friend of mine as “it’s just posh Russians going on about love,” but they go on very articulately in Marber’s version. Amanda Drew was a beautiful and charming Natalya, although as ever with this play, I found it difficult to believe that simply everyone was in love with her. John Simm was a dignified and funny Rakitin, and Lily Sacofsky a passionate and very young Vera. John Light’s Arkady was fiery (and his beard surprisingly flattering) and Mark Gatiss brought welcome notes of levity as Shpigelsky. Royce Pierreson was something of a blank as Belyaev, but then the character is supposed to be a blank on which others project their own feelings (and boy, do these people have a lot of feelings). It doesn’t matter though, as Pierreson is going to be a star. He has simply buckets of star quality, beautiful intensity, and great presence. An unusual though effective set, a great script and a wonderful cast made this an evening to remember. Highly recommended.