Catch-Up Post of Mediocrity (and Occasional Brilliance)

A Christmas Carol (WE)

Jim Broadbent is incapable of acting badly, but his Ebeneezer Scrooge was essentially phoned-in. And the prices they charged for a rickety set and play-sort-of-within-a-play that didn’t know whether it wanted to be funny or serious were utterly ridiculous. A blatant attempt to rip off the holiday market, and I was not in the mood to be fleeced. A serious disappointment.

Jane Eyre (NT)

This adaptation, brought from the Bristol Old Vic and directed by Sally Cookson, had its moments of pleasure. It was well-acted throughout, with Madeleine Worrall playing Jane from (literally) infancy to adulthood, and Felix Hayes a fiery Rochester. Melanie Marshall’s stunning voice saved the evening for me, as I was not enormously fond of the experimental nature of the production. It also featured the first (but not the last) instance of a person playing an animal (here a dog) that I would see at the NT in January.

As You Like It (NT)

The NT clearly spent a lot of money on this production, and the transition from the first act’s office to the “forest” was visually stunning, and even appeared slightly dangerous for the participants. But playing the first act in an office was unduly constrained and somewhat dull, and I could not see any creative justification for it. Generally well acted, but Rosalie Craig’s Rosalind did not, for me, have her usual luminous brilliance. More people playing animals in this one, sheep this time, which they did almost disconcertingly well. An odd production and, for me, unsuccessful.

Grey Gardens (Southwark)

Sheila Hancock was heartbreaking and hilarious, and Jenna Russell very strong indeed in this stripped-down version of a Broadway hit. Well staged and enjoyable, this rumination on the decay of an American family (cousins of Jackie Kennedy Onassis) provided a great deal of pleasure. A generally strong supporting cast sang beautifully and recreated an affluent inter-war American household with great attention to detail (good accents throughout!). I didn’t love it as it was very uneven, with the second half much better than the first, but I liked it very much.

Husbands and Sons (NT)

Oh my, is it ever grim up North. This combination of three of D.H. Lawrence’s plays about miners and their wives and mothers was beautifully staged, impeccably acted and utter misery from start to finish. I booked for Anne-Marie Duff and she did not disappoint, with her exquisite acting in the final scene just about making up for all the suffering that had gone before. One for the die-hards only.

Ellen Terry with Eileen Atkins (Sam Wanamaker Playhouse at the Globe)

This was a rather wonderful exploration of Shakespeare’s female characters. Based on lectures that the actress Ellen Terry developed with Henry Irving, Eileen Atkins played excerpts from some of Shakespeare’s greatest plays and provided new insights into the motivations of Desdemona, Juliet, Portia, Beatrice and other heroines. I was glad that it was only 70 minutes long, however, as the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse is, while a bijou gem, deeply uncomfortable as a theatre. An acting master class.

Rabbit Hole (Hampstead)

This emotionally devastating exploration of a child’s death has a strong cast, led by Claire Skinner and Tom Goodman-Hill, and is well acted throughout. But I’m afraid the tragedy lost its effect on me because of the terrible American accents (with the honourable exception of Penny Downie’s Nat, whose accent is very good). The play is very strongly set in Westchester County, but many people who live there have generic east coast accents. It’s really not necessary to try for Yonkers when Manhattan will do.

The Homecoming (WE)

A 50th anniversary production of one of Pinter’s most shocking plays. It remains shocking, but possibly for reasons other than those intended. This sordid exploration of men’s lust and women’s power retains its dramatic force, but reveals rather more about the playwright than I suspect he intended. John Simm as Lenny, Ron Cook as Max, Keith Allen as Sam, Gary Kemp’s Teddy and John Macmillan’s Joey are all excellent, with Simm and Cook as particular highlights. But it is Gemma Chan’s Ruth who intrigues us most, as she shows us the woman behind the fantasy. Worth booking for her performance.

October Catch-Up Post

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.