Simon Russell Beale

The Great Catch-Up Post of 2017

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The list of plays I have seen but not blogged about has been growing. And growing. And growing. And now, I am going to draw a line under it. Here is an update with capsule reviews from the past umpteen months, with apologies and definite plans to do better going forward. Probably.

  • Bug (Soho) – James Norton and Kate Fleetwood were mesmerising in this production of Tracy Letts’s play, where Fleetwood heartbreakingly comes to believe in Norton’s delusions. A very uncomfortable theatre in just about every respect, however.
  • Romeo and Juliet (WE) – Lily James was beautiful, flighty and young, as Juliet, and I was thoroughly convinced that she was in love with Richard Madden’s articulate and passionate Romeo. However, I didn’t necessarily believe the reverse, as the chemistry simply wasn’t there on his side. The production was delightful, however, filled with Italian sunshine and gorgeous costumes.
  • My Mother Said I Never Should (St James’s) – Having never previously seen Maureen Lipman on stage, I was very much looking forward to her performance. I was not disappointed. This exploration of the lives of three generations of Northern working class women was beautifully acted and well staged.
  • Threepenny Opera (NT) – Any production involving Rory Kinnear can’t be all bad. But this was decidedly odd, with his intelligent thug a foil for Rosalie Craig’s cunning good girl. Perhaps it’s Brecht’s fault, but this was a puzzling evening.
  • The Deep Blue Sea (NT) – Helen McCrory’s amazing performance in this Rattigan revival cannot be praised enough. Her transparent, intelligent face reflected complete understanding of her situation, longing, infatuation, and utter despair. Strangely uplifting.
  • Breakfast at Tiffany’s (WE) – Dire. Pixie Lott can sing a little, but can’t act for toffee. The worst accents I have ever heard on a London stage. Didn’t return after the interval.
  • The Spoils (WE) – Jesse Eisenberg’s play was, as the kids say, aight. It struck me as being of a very millennial sensibility, with immature young men and the sighing young women who take care of them. Fairly well acted, with particular praise for Katie Brayben, whose New Jersey accent was subtle and excellent.
  • Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (WE) – Much more effective on the stage than on the page. Excellent acting (Noma Dumezweni, Jamie Parker and Paul Thornley all did a great job as the core trio, as did Sam Clemmett as Albus and Anthony Boyle as Scorpius) and some of the simplest and yet most effective stagecraft I have ever seen made these plays an absolute joy to behold.
  • Richard III (Almeida) – I have been enjoying Ralph Fiennes’ frequent appearances on the London stage of late, but this was absolutely the most effective. I saw echoes of his Amon Goeth and his Lord Voldemort in one of the finest Richard IIIs I have ever seen.
  • Aladdin (WE) – Quite the slickest and Disneyest production I have ever seen in the West End. Still trying to figure out how they managed the flying carpet.
  • Groundhog Day (Old Vic) – I enjoyed this thoroughly and Andy Karl did an excellent job of making me forget about Bill Murray (the only exception being the “I am a God” line, but he’s not superhuman). A delightful adaptation.
  • Guys and Dolls WE) – It was the same production as previously reviewed, but minus Jamie Parker and with the addition of Rebel Wilson as Miss Adelaide. She did a lovely job, charming and with unexpected vulnerability.
  • Our Ladies of Perpetual Succour (NT) – I’m not sure exactly why it’s shocking that teenage girls like to drink, smoke and have sex, but they did so loudly, enthusiastically and Scottishly in this energetic production.
  • The Libertine (WE) – I am still not sure why they revived this play. Dominic Cooper was somewhat one note, and the play itself was dull. I was bored stiff.
  • King Lear (Old Vic) – Glenda Jackson made an absolutely stonking return to the stage. She was in clear, stunning voice and brought pathos I had never seen before. A triumph.
  • Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 (B’way) – It turns out that when you take the “war” out of War and Peace, what you’re left with is really rather trite. Josh Groban and Denée Benton were terrific, however.
  • School of Rock (WE) – A light as air musical providing a delightful evening of escapism. The children were absolutely terrific.
  • Nice Fish (WE) – Mark Rylance is incapable of giving a bad performance, but this was a trifle. An enjoyable, disposable evening.
  • Come From Away (Toronto) – I adored it from start to finish. A fabulous ensemble cast, tight production and a story (stranded passengers taken in by a small town in Newfoundland after 9/11) to make you believe in humanity again. Needed now more than ever.
  • Rent (WE) – It has held up well generally, but I felt so OLD. One for the young people, I think.
  • Dreamgirls (WE) – A slick, enjoyable production. Amber Riley sang beautifully.
  • Art (Old Vic) – I certainly didn’t think the play was a masterpiece (it hasn’t aged all that well) but Rufus Sewell, Paul Ritter and Tim Key were fantastic and had amazing chemistry.
  • The Tempest (RSC Stratford) – Simon Russell Beale was his usual marvellous self. The production was innovative in the best way, and the projections were stunning.
  • Amadeus (NT) – An intense evening, somewhat over-acted. As ever, the music was the best part.
  • Hedda Gabler (NT) – Ruth Wilson was head and shoulders above the rest of the cast. I’m not fond of modern Heddas (I want to say “get a job”) but she was excellent.
  • Sex with Strangers (Hampstead) – The play was middling, but Theo James was really rather good (and very handsome). Emilia Fox was inexplicably bad, with a very poor American accent.
  • Much Ado About Nothing (RSC London) – Charming WWI-era production, with top-notch acting and gorgeous sets.
  • Jonas Kaufmann (Barbican) – Not in absolutely top voice, but his technique and feeling made up for it.
  • Twelfth Night (NT) – Gloriously sharp gender-fluid production. Tamsin Greig was a joy to watch.

Mr Foote’s Other Leg (Hampstead)

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I will make a particular effort to see a play if I know that a favourite actor is in it. Mark Rylance of course, David Tennant, Anne-Marie Duff, Helen McCrory, etc. But there is no actor that I will move heaven and earth more to see than my beloved Simon Russell Beale (I am a very typical middle-aged theatre lover). So it was that in the middle of an extremely busy week, I made the trek up to the charming Hampstead Theatre to see Mr Foote’s Other Leg, a play about which I knew nothing other than that SRB was in it (and that the theatre had set up a special gin bar in celebration, which I must admit was almost as big a draw as the man himself).

Mr Foote’s Other Leg is a play about many things: the Georgian era, the law, and slavery to name but a few. But mostly it is that often slightly depressing thing, a love letter to the theatre. Happily, in this case, it was a sparkling, charming letter, filled with wit and energy and making one almost wish to be transported to the era. (That “almost” is important, as the play does not shy away from the inconvenient truth that the past was a treacherous place filled with dangers at every turn).

SRB was Mr Foote, and he was a delight in the role, which allowed him to be foul-mouthed, vulgar, touching, and his usual intelligent self. His interactions with the newly free Frank Barber (Micah Balfour, in a sensitive performance) were admittedly anachronistic, but very pleasing. Joseph Millson was lean and elegant as David Garrick, and as a person with some knowledge of the law I found his lines to be pithy and witty. (Rather unusually, I seemed to be somewhat alone in my laughter, which is not often the case, so either not many lawyers were present or my pre-show gin was particularly effective).

All the audience joined in the laughter at the lines from Ian Kelly, who was the best Prince George I have seen since Hugh Laurie’s effort in Blackadder. But my favourite performance was Dervla Kirwan’s gorgeous Peg Woffington. I often find Kirwan a bit of an ice queen, but here she was funny, human, very beautiful and deeply moving.

The play itself was by turns hilarious, thought-provoking (particularly about the nature of celebrity, as true today as it was in the Georgian era) and the two hours forty minutes flew by. One caveat – if you are squeamish, perhaps give this one a miss. It is not graphic exactly, but you are made entirely aware of the means by which the play is given its name. Highly recommended for all with strong stomachs.

Catch-up Post: Plays Part 1

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And here is the post with a few words about all the plays I’ve seen over the past year. Looking back, I saw many good plays and very few poor productions.

Bakkhai (Almeida): Not quite the stunner that Oresteia was, but a very memorable afternoon. Ben Whishaw’s Dionysus was clearly influenced by the likes of Conchita Wurst and Russell Brand, but memorably his own. But it was Bertie Carvel who stole the show for me, both as a buttoned-up Pentheus (channelling Margaret Atwood as he whispered, “It’s very important that the women don’t make fun of me”) and a suitably mad Agave. Compelling, but I could have done with less of the Chorus.

The Heresy of Love (Globe): I had not previously heard of Helen Edmundson’s play, but was entranced by this exploration of love and faith in 17th century Mexico. Naomi Frederick was forthright, elegant, and ultimately very moving as Sor Juana.

The Motherfucker with the Hat (NT): Definitely not the usual National Theatre fare, this New York-set play about infidelity and a conman trying to go straight had a vivid, earthy (and profane) energy. For once, the American accents were spot-on throughout. The acting was very strong, but the play ultimately a trifle shallow.

Everyman (NT): An interesting experiment. Well-acted by a strong cast, including Chiwetel Ejiofor, written by one of my favourite poets (Carol Ann Duffy), and yet it didn’t completely grab me. The subject matter (meaning of life) was a little too well worn.

Oresteia (Almeida): An incredibly strong beginning to the Almeida’s Greeks season. It was very long, but not difficult to sit through as the intervals were well timed. And it was beyond compelling. Lia Williams was mesmerising as Klytemnestra, Angus Wright’s agony as Agamemnon seemed to come from his very bones, and the death of Iphigenia was almost unwatchable. Its West End transfer is richly deserved.

The Elephant Man (WE): I’ll admit it, I was there for Bradley Cooper. And he did not disappoint, contorting his body admirably and speaking with a suitably distorted but accurate mid-Victorian accent. The play, however, was short and so pointless that I couldn’t quite believe it was over, as so little had happened.

Constellations (WE): I had missed this play the first time around, so I was very pleased to see it return to Trafalgar Studios this summer. It was well-acted and the physics was interesting, but I didn’t find the conceit of the repetition as moving as I was clearly intended to. Science and art can be combined beautifully (as in Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia, the most sublime example) but sometimes the science can be just a gimmick.

Rules for Living (NT): An uproariously funny play about a dysfunctional family at Christmas, oddly scheduled in the NT’s spring season. It would have been much more suited to a Christmas season. The “rules” were a unique concept and the scoreboard certainly noisy, but not necessary for the family dynamics to play out. A delightful curio.

Temple (Donmar): A play about the dilemma facing the leadership of St Paul’s Cathedral during the time its courtyard was taken over by Occupy. Simon Russell Beale turned the part of the finely tuned senior cleric into an exquisitely tortured man undergoing a profound moral dilemma. Paul Higgins (always a favourite since his legendary Jamie in The Thick of It) was marvellously passionate as the Canon Chancellor.

Man and Superman (NT): This should not have worked. Over 3 hours long, with an unrelated and frankly bizarre second act, lots of Shavian repetition and a leading man (Ralph Fiennes) who was much too old for the part. It was wonderful, engaging from start to finish and with beautiful chemistry between Fiennes and Indira Varma. We don’t see enough Shaw. More like that from the NT, please.

The Beaux Stratagem (NT): I should have loved this Restoration comedy. It had elements of country-house farce, which I normally adore, it was strongly acted and had some lovely singing. And yet I was bored stiff and longing for it to be over. There just wasn’t enough zing, and I didn’t care about any of the characters. A dud.

Peter Pan (Open Air): This production made me nervous at the beginning. Linking Peter Pan’s lost boys to the lost boys of WWI was an inspired and moving idea. It was just rather difficult to explain to the child accompanying me, who was understandably asking questions about why the boys were hurt and who was the enemy. But it was a lovely production, if a bit challenging for the lower end of the recommended age bracket.

American Buffalo (WE): Plenty of star power was on offer with this David Mamet three-hander, which involved John Goodman, Damian Lewis and Tom Sturridge. It was very well acted (particularly by Sturridge, who I had never seen before) but the play itself was about stupid people and I found it a rather stupid play. Mamet and I clearly do not get on.

Farinelli and the King (Globe): A gem. Mary Rylance’s performance in this play about the effect of the castrato Farinelli on his King of Spain was a quiet miracle, his eyes alone conveying every emotion that one could wish. Stunning singing from Iestyn Davies. I will go again during the West End transfer but that first experience in the tiny Sam Wanamaker Playhouse will be a treasured memory.