NT

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.

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.