Monthly Archives: January 2014

Review – Jack and the Beanstalk, Lyceum Theatre Sheffield, 4th January 2014

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Another of our now regular yuletide practices is to pay a visit to Sheffield on the first Saturday of January to see the Lyceum panto at the matinee, and whatever spectacular is on at the Crucible in the evening; and each year it continues to pay dividends. I have a very soft spot for Jack and the Beanstalk as it was the first pantomime I ever saw; January 1st 1969 at the London Palladium, aged 8. I’d seen a few amateur plays at the local memorial hall but this was not only my first panto but also my first visit to a London theatre. Since then, I think it’s safe to say, I haven’t looked back.Jack was Jimmy Tarbuck; the Dame was Arthur Askey; and like all those late 60s/early 70s Palladium pantos there were Charlie Cairoli and Company (who I loved), Ivor Emmanuel, and host of other variety acts interspersed. I remember very clearly that the opening song was the villagers singing Manfred Mann’s “My Name is Jack”, which introduced Jimmy Tarbuck as being the chief of the wayward boys and girls who lived in the Greta Garbo home – Google the lyrics if that doesn’t make any sense to you. I think I was so ecstatic at being there that the memory is imprinted on my brain. Funny how something simple like that can stay with you for a lifetime.

The Palladium panto was always a stylish, flashy, music- and dancing-packed affair, with the latest in technological elements (such as they were then). The recently finished Derngate panto, Sleeping Beauty, was very much in that vein. Then there is another kind of panto, where 3D effects and big star names take a back seat, and the show relies more on traditional routines, and a funny script, and the annual Sheffield panto is a perfect example. For Jack in the Beanstalk, Sheffield’s favourite Damian Williams returned for his sixth consecutive panto season, and he’s already signed up for Dick Whittington this December. Why break a winning run? You’ve never seen an audience so happy to welcome back an old favourite, and Mr Williams absolutely knows how to keep the crowd in a constant state of laughter. He’s also really gifted at appealing to the adults too, with a quick witted turn of phrase that might occasionally befuddle the kids but will have all the grown-ups guffawing. And he knows that sacrificing one’s personal dignity is all part of the game – for which much thanks, if only for his phenomenal appearance as Miley Cyrus with her wrecking ball. Just brilliant! As long as Mr Williams keeps coming back to Sheffield, so will we.

Jack was played by Ian H Watkins, or H from Steps as he’s better known; cue lots of gags about how brilliant S Club 7 were. Messrs Watkins and Williams had a good double act going, where both would readily step out of character and be themselves defending their careers. They used the pop music theme for the annual patter gag scene – this year it was the names of groups and singers all strung together to make a story, and very clever and funny it was too. Sarah Earnshaw was the Vegetable Fairy, who spoke in rhyming couplets that were actually witty, had some good comic accents and I for one was very happy to give her a big cheer every time she appeared. Andrew Fettes was the Giant’s villainous sidekick Hefferflumphenstein, whose running gag about how his name should be pronounced was used perhaps a couple of times too many; but he was suitably wicked and it was very kind of him to allow us to call him Shorty.

Madeleine Leslay was a very pure and pretty Princess Tamara; cue for a sequence of puns with “tomorrow” that we were encouraged to count out as the show progressed. I bumped into her (literally) in the Crucible Corner bar later that evening and just managed to stop myself from saying, “sorry Princess”; which would have been quite embarrassing. There was a nice twist that whenever anyone talked about infiltrating the Giant’s lair at the top of the Beanstalk, it was to save Molly the Cow and the Lyceum bench (more of which shortly) rather than the Princess, whom they kept on forgetting. Pete Dunwell was a larger than life King Eric, a buffoon who assists the Dame in mixing the ingredients to make ice-cream and literally uses his head, as the Dame suggested. Cue for a tarpaulin on the stage to catch all the slimy goo so we can quickly move on to the next scene. The talented ensemble of six singing and dancing adult boys and girls gave great support and added a little eye-candy to the proceedings together with some good hearted fun. And we all went crazy with the peas; soft green balls that we all had to throw at the stage when the Fairy said we could to help beat the Giant.I managed to get hold of one chucking pea, but the little lad next to me didn’t get one, so I selflessly let him have my pea. He was thrilled; but he was useless at throwing it. Never mind, we still defeated the Giant. The band were great as usual, under the direction of Andy Booth, and the junior ensemble were very well schooled and fun to watch.

A couple of years ago, it seemed like every panto we saw was blighted by that wretched dog Churchill going “oh yes” or “oh no”, presumably as a sop to the insurance company that was sponsoring the show. This year at Sheffield we had Molly the Cow. Now, of course, the cow is an intrinsic part of the show. Jack thinks he’s getting a big bag of gold in return for her but he is duped by the wicked Hefferflumphenstein and only gets a handful of beans; and of course the pantomime cow is sister to the pantomime horse (so to speak),and so definitely has her place in the show. But I did think they overplayed the association of Molly the Cow with Sheffield Theatres’ interval ice-cream of choice, Our Cow Molly. Having said that, I loved Mr Williams saying that if your parents don’t buy you an ice-cream in the interval, that is a proven fact that they don’t love you. I hope no one took it seriously! Similarly, the constant references to the Lyceum Theatre bench, which is also captured by the Giant, actually meant that when the bench scene finally takes place (“it’s behind you”) I thought it slightly lost its usual impact. I think it’s funnier with ghosties than with zombies. Nevertheless, that bench had better still be there next year!

Those are very minor quibbles by the way. It’s an extremely fun, fast-paced and entertaining panto, and we’ll definitely be back for Dick Whittington!

Review – Chicago, Curve Theatre, Leicester, 31st December 2013

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Confession time: I have a problem with the show Chicago. I first saw it on 14th April 1979 (look, there’s my programme and ticket stub in the picture below! Such a trend-setting teenager I was, just four days after opening night), and three weeks after the original production of A Chorus Line closed at Drury Lane, a show I’d seen eight times by that stage and which was, and remains, my favourite show of all time. To put it in context, I was missing my Chorus Line, and I hoped Chicago might fill its void.But I was wrong. Chicago is no Chorus Line. Chorus Line is highly moral; good gets rewarded, respect is given to everyone, and everyone is special, there are no celebrities. The songs and book are about talent, personal development, and being true to yourself. The costumes are either work-functional or showbiz pizazz. Michael Bennett’s choreography was optimistic, cheeky and bright.

Chicago, on the other hand, is highly amoral. Murderers and corrupt officials get rewarded, celebrity status is king, the good get downtrodden. The songs and book are about crime, cynicism and putting on an act. The costumes are sleazy. The Bob Fosse-inspired choreography was flashy, sexual and lurid. Why did I want to see this Leicester revival then? In fact I very nearly didn’t book for this show, but in the end I decided to “keep the faith” with the recent London A Chorus Line, as three impressive members of its cast are in it. History repeating itself in fact; the original London cast of Chicago featured five members of the Chorus Line cast who had lost their jobs three weeks earlier.

As a Chorus Line fan, I was always a Michael Bennett boy, never a Bob Fosse boy. But now, after seeing the Curve’s new production of Chicago, I think I could become a Drew McOnie boy. For one of this show’s chief highlights is the completely new set of routines by this young choreographer who we enjoyed watching a few years back on “So You Think You Can Dance”. You can’t classify his style by any one term, as every song,every routine has its own different flavour. I had no sense of repetition, but I did get a great sense of inventiveness, showbiz, sexiness and some mystery too. I particularly loved the transformation of “Razzle Dazzle” into a circus presentation. Above all, the choreography throughout was enjoyable and communicative, and I look forward to seeing more of his work in the future.

In case you don’t know, but may have surmised from my first paragraph anyway, Chicago is set in the 1920s and is based on the true stories of Beulah Annan and Belva Gaertner who got away with the murders of their lovers through their courtroom glamour and pretend vulnerability that made their all-male juries go weak at the knees. On stage in this show they become Roxie Hart and Velma Kelly, who live a celebrity lifestyle whilst on remand and are represented by the dashing lawyerBilly Flynn, whose interest in solely financial. The structure of the show is key to how the audience reacts to it, as each scene is introduced by a member of the cast addressing the audience directly and telling them what to expect in 100% Bertolt Brecht style. Brecht’s original vision was deliberately to distance the audience from the action, and it’s absolutely true, it’s an incredibly effective device to take you one step further away in each scene from either identifying with the characters or from getting lost and involved in the action. I think that’s one of the reasons I have reservations about the show. It’s intriguing without being all-involving.

I also found the some of the costumes rather off-putting too. With the original Fosse choreography, a sense of sleaziness felt very appropriate, but in this production I don’t think the choreography requires it. In fact I thought some of the “boys-in-a-basque” costumes bordered on the Rocky Horror instead, which I’m sure is not what was intended. After all, I follow some of these chaps on twitter, it doesn’t feel entirely decent to see them clad so dubiously. I’m also not entirely sure I like the “unveiling” of the character of Mary Sunshine at the end either; in the other productions I’ve seen, the performer’s details in the programme feature an androgynous face and their first name is in initials so you can’t be entirely sure if it’s a man or a woman; but at the Curve, we know straight away that the character is played by Adam Bailey, so revealing his bare chest at the end is I feel both prurient and redundant.

However, what is beyond doubt is that Paul Kerryson has assembled a cast of great talent who work together fantastically well, and who sing and dance with superb skill. The double act of Verity Rushworth and Gemma Sutton as the wicked Velma and Roxie works brilliantly. Miss Sutton’s Roxie is a harsh heartless bitch who transforms herself into a glamourpuss-de-luxe at the flash of an instamatic; and Miss Rushworth’s Velma is a world-weary siren who can knock out a song with ultimate conviction and appeal. Sandra Marvin is un-take-your-eyes-off-able as the devious Mama Morton, the “matron” of the convicts who will look after her girls as long as they look after Mama.That Curve stage always strikes me as being massive but she completely fills it with her show-stopping performance. David Leonard is a superb sleazebag as the arrogant Billy Flynn, and Matthew Barrow turns in a great performance as Roxie’s ineffectual husband Amos. His “Mister Cellophane” number was terrific stuff – again with clever use of circus elements – and his so-called “exit music” drew a huge sigh of sympathy from the audience. The chorus who fill the minor roles are all excellent; I would expect no less from Harry Francis, Simon Hardwick and Katy Hards (the ex-Chorus Line contingent) but also Zizi Strallen was a beguiling Mona and Anabel Kutay a tragic Hunyak.

Ben Atkinson’s band were sensational and brought the best out of John Kander’s jazzy and exciting tunes. Al Parkinson’s set is cunningly gloomy for the prison scenes – the low hung light bulbs over the front few rows of the stalls at the beginning almost makes us feel part of the set – but then is minimalist enough accurately to suggest all the locations without getting in the way of the dancing. It’s very rewarding to see such a committed performance from everyone involved and I’m pretty sure (from memory) that this is a more fulfilling production than the original London one or the touring show we saw at Milton Keynes in 2007. The combination of vocal and dance skills with the new choreography and fabulous band make this a really excellent show. It’s still on for a couple more weeks so if you prefer your murderesses sassy, you’ve come to the right place!

Review – The Wind in the Willows, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 30th December 2013

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It’s become something of a Christmas tradition that we take a group including Lady Duncansby and our nieces, Secret Agent Code November and Special Agent Code Sierra, to the festive season play at the Royal, as they are always a yuletide treat, and a bit different from panto – not that there’s anything wrong with panto, but sometimes you need a change. Thus eight of us monopolised Row C of the stalls last Monday teatime to witness Ratty and Mole messing about in boats, Toad being a menace on the roads and the weasels committing a most appalling act of aggravated squatting.

I never read “Wind in the Willows” as a child, so you might consider me deprived as a result; but I did play Ratty in a Saturday morning drama school abridged version of Toad of Toad Hall when I was 10, which hopefully makes up for it. Toad is a boastful, brash and insensitive oaf whose only goal is to satisfy his own need for thrills and spills and doesn’t really deserve the loyalty of his faithful riverbank friends. The story makes some interesting observations on the classsystem – when Toad is in prison, he initially turns his back on the helpful suggestions of the jailer’s daughter simply because she is of a lower class than him. His friends Ratty, Mole and Badger are all distinctly middle class, and his enemies, the weasels, are frankly guttersnipes. But the moral, I guess, is that you should behave properly, don’t boast, don’t speed, and do what policemen tell you. The ideal is to be the perfect, law-abiding citizen, and that’s no bad thing for kids to learn.

It’s an inventive and satisfying set, full of secret doors, panels and tunnels, just as you would expect from the directorial imagination of Gary Sefton, who has given us such local gems as Travels with my Aunt, Diary of a Nobody, A Christmas Carol, and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Mr Sefton really knows how to make the most of a small acting space, and this production is a highly entertaining addition to his Northampton oeuvre. The revolving stage comes to good use depicting the river current, and the use of thearea in front of the stage makes for surprisingly cunning passageways and underground shenanigans. Bringing Toad’s car to life, with its squeaky windows and putt-putt sound of the engine, is a real feast for the imagination and you can easily imagine kids everywhere going home and playing pretend cars as a result. Turning the courtroom scene into a burlesque is a spot of genius, and the train chase, with policemen getting battered by the wind on the roof, is both thrilling and hilarious. We all particularly liked how the direction and design combined to depict Toad drowning in the river,even though we thought it was odd that, as an amphibian, he would have had problems in this department; but then he is a thoroughly useless toad. In addition, the show has a few good songs, some of which you end up singing to yourself not only on the way home but a few days later too. The costumes are, somewhat curiously, based on a series of woollen onesies, which actually works better than it sounds.

In the production we saw, Toad was played by Gavin Spokes, full of fun and confidence, a noisy spoiled brat with a touch of the Alan Carr about him – I think it was the glasses that did it. He is accompanied by a splendidly suave Ratty played by Christopher Harper (hilarious in Sheffield’s The Village Bike in 2012), Siôn Lloyd’s Brian Blessed-like Badger, Katy Phipps’ rather cute Mole (I loved the slight hint of potential romance between her and Ratty), Jennie Dale’s fabulous Judge, and Cherrelle Skeete’s bombastic clerk. But for me the star of the show was a brilliant physical performance by Stuart Angell as the Chief Weasel,as well as a very dour Albert the horse and that poor policeman assaulted by the elements. And finally, but certainly not least, there were the children! We saw “Team A” perform and they were amazing. Witty, smart, convincing; scary as weasels, malicious as “hang ’em and flog ’em” court witnesses, irksome as train commuters, they didn’t put a foot wrong and were very funny indeed.

Another superb Christmas play at the Royal!

Review – Le Parc, Ballet de l’Opera National de Paris, Palais Garnier, 27th December 2013

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If ever there was a venue where the artistic impact of the building provides as much pleasurable anticipation – probably more – than the prospect of the show itself, it’s the Palais Garnier in Paris. Yes, the original home to the Phantom of the Opera, built over a hundred years before Andrew Lloyd Webber created the music of the night, it’s the most breath-taking structure, that gives you a sense of fabulous privilege just walking up the stairs on your way to locating your “fauteuils” in the “orchestre”.

All sorts of delights await you before the show starts. Of course, you must have pre-theatre drinkies. About the only thing available is a glass of champagne. Well that’s fine by me. I approached the bar where the lady before me was ordering “deux verres de champagne, s’il vous plaît”. “Oui monsieur?” enquired of me the formally dressed but quite friendly guy behind the counter, as he was preparing the champagnes for the lady in front. “Aussi deux verres de champagne pour moi, s’il vous plaît” I stumbled in response.The lady beamed at me in recognition of a champagne comrade. “Vive la champagne!” she said, joyously. “Absolument” came my idiomatically iffy reply. Mrs C and I supped our delicious champagne (top quality, 12 euros for a small glass) whilst staring down over the grand vestibule.

Then you have to work out whereabouts in the auditorium you are sitting. You show your tickets to an usher and hope that you understand their directions.“Tout droit, au bout”. We got there ok. There must be a reason why the seat numbering system isn’t consecutive; Mrs Chrisparkle and I had seats 179 and 181, which were next to each other about seven rows back from the orchestra pit. In a UK theatre you’d think of them as seats G6-7. The auditorium is stunning. So lavishly baroque, apart from the 1964 Chagall ceiling that depicts scenes from 14 operas and which I think is rather splendid.And of course there is the central chandelier, that did once famously come crashing to the stalls and killed an unfortunate opéraphile, so be careful where you choose to sit.

We were there to see a post-Christmas performance of Angelin Preljocaj’s much-loved ballet Le Parc, which has been part of the Paris Opera’s repertoire for twenty years or so now.It contrasts courtly, romantic love as suggested by the Mozart chamber music that is played exquisitely by the Orchestre de Chambre de Paris under the direction of Koen Kessels, with the sexual motivation and tension that bubbles under the surface to a modern abstract soundtrack by Goran Vejvoda. As a result there are juxtaposing scenes of both pure 18th century ritualistic elegance, and 20th century direct physical contact. In Chaucerian terms, imagine the Knight going on a date with the Wife of Bath.

Now, this show has been running on and off since 1994 and I know it is considered to be something of a modern classic, but I have to confess I found most of it strangely unsatisfying. Much of the choreography was, I thought, tame and unadventurous, with a lot of repetition and I would guess largely unchallenging for the hugely skilful dancers on stage. If this were “Strictly Come Ballet”, Len Goodman would criticise it for having far too much posing and faffing around and not enough “Gertcha”. Much of it was very predictable as well. In the first act you witness a lot of chair repositioning; a male dancer will place a chair down on the stage surface with a loud clatter, which is the cue for a female counterpart to do precisely the same thing. And then another man. And then another woman. Stomp, stomp, stomp – clatter; stomp, stomp, stomp – clatter. Forgive me, but we’ve seen all that before; it’s not dancing, it’s removals. It wasn’t saying to me “I’ll test you with my aggressive-assertive behaviour and see if you respond”, but more like “that’s the last time I buy from Ikea”.

In the second act, there are eight (or so) posh ladies, one of whom faints. The other ladies gather round her, get her back on her feet, and all is well. Then, blow me down, another lady faints. They gather round her too, reinstate her vertically, and she’s ok. You’ll never guess what happens next. Yes! Another lady faints. The same sequence is repeated ad nauseam until every one of them has had need of the smelling salts. This is not dancing. At primary school they might have called it “music and movement”. It really was tremendously tedious. The framework of the whole ballet is to have regular reappearances of four gardeners, who make slow modern shapes to abstract technothrob, and who were more athletic than artistic in my view.

For sure, there are some tremendous scenes. At our performance the chief roles were danced by Aurélie Dupont and Nicolas Le Riche, and they are simply superb. A brilliant pas de deux towards the end involved Mlle Dupont clinging hold of M le Riche’s neck as he swung her round and round; an extraordinary display of trust and elegance that stood out as a stunning visual image. There was also a rather beguiling scene where various ladies and gentlemen followed each other round stylistic tree trunks in a playfully coquettish game of catch. Not a lot of dancing involved but it was charming.

Whether or not they scheduled this dance for shortly after Christmas as being the perfect choreography for performers who’ve enjoyed too much dinde over the festive period, I don’t know. Certainly for much of the time the dancers weren’t required to do much more than walk around and do some finger pointing. Sadly there’s no interval; not having an interval at the Palais Garnier deprives you of twenty minutes relaxing in luxurious surroundings. The show lasts just over an hour and half as it is, and on reflection I might guess that with an interval a number of people wouldn’t bother returning for the final act. The very keen balletomane on Mrs C’s right who looked all agog before the show started spent the final act with his head in his hands as if trying to work out where it all went wrong. I feel his pain. This was the third, possibly fourth time we’ve seen the Opera de Paris at the Palais Garnier and it’s the first time where the applause at the end was respectful instead of wildly enthusiastic. Oh well, on ne peut pas être gagnant dans tout, as I’m sure they don’t say in French.