Category Archives: Theatre

Edinburgh Fringe 2025 Reviews – Lovett, Falling: A Disabled Love Story, The Forum, Falling in Love with Mr Dellamort, and Vagabond Skies.

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Lovett, Pleasance Courtyard.
4-starsA meaty (no pun intended) account of one of Fleet Street’s toughest cookies, we see Eleanor Lovett eerily sharpening her favourite knife at her butchers’ block, whilst she guides us through her passion for the art of butchery, a true survivor in every sense. Confined to one small part of London north of the river, we meet her mother Helene, her “friend” Irene, her first husband Armin, the notorious Madame Mrs Rodd and Mon Pere, the cleric who took advantage of her and would live to regret it. We also meet perhaps her most famous associate, Sweeney Todd, half her age, but an instant, powerful attraction to Eleanor. A tale of vengeance and belonging, all Eleanor wants is for the world to say her name and give her recognition. Lucy Roslyn’s riveting and intensely dramatic monologue fleshes out (again no pun intended) this fascinating fictional character, giving her a complex and emotional backstory. 4 stars.

 

Falling:  A Disabled Love Story, Pleasance Courtyard.

4-starsAaron Pang’s witty and thought-provoking insight into the problems of seeking a sexual relationship (or indeed any kind of relationship) when you are disabled. A cross between stand-up and a routine about the difficulties of standing up, Aaron is a very engaging performer and a super convincing storyteller; he has a graph to prove it. But the questions he asks make us doubt our own attitudes to disabilities and the disabled, resulting in an eye-opening hour for everyone. Devastatingly honest, or is it all just a pack of lies? You’ll have to decide for yourself. You also get to choose the ending! If he’s a liar, he’s a very sincere one! 4 stars.

 

The Forum, C Arts C Venues C Aquila.

3-starsA tense, atmospheric thriller about Hitchens, who has been recruited to infiltrate an organisation in the United States – a terrifying challenge that costs him his family, and maybe his life – the verdict is in your hands. The play itself presents us with fragmented scenes that come together to form a complete story. Desmond Devenish conducts the show at a blistering pace – possibly slightly too quickly for the audience to keep up – and gives a powerful performance that makes us question who’s right and who’s wrong – after all, that old saying one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter is as true today as ever. Where it occasionally lacks clarity it benefits from a true sense of realism and danger, and Mr Devenish’s character is a very believable mix of warrior, spy, and vulnerable family man. 3 stars.

 

Falling in Love with Mr Dellamort, C Arts C Venues C Aquila

4-stars
Take a touch of Agatha Christie, a hint of Rocky Horror, the spookiest instrument you’ve ever heard (the theremin) and oomph it up with some catchy new songs that drive the story forward, sung by powerful voices, and you’ve got the recipe for Falling in Love with Mr Dellamort. However, beware – don’t fall in love with him; it won’t end well. But do his three invited guests escape his charm – and what about the unexpected guest? There’s always one, and they’re always suspicious. Tremendous fun performances from the entire cast and a truly inventive story makes the hour fly by. Cornelius Loy’s musicianship brings a supernatural feel to the entire show, and there’s hugely entertaining performances from Natalie Arle-Toyne’s pushy Mina, Chris O’Mara’s confident Barry, Jennie Jacobs’ substance-dependent Rhonda and Grace Farrell’s ever-surprising Sue – and a charismatic performance from Robert Tripolino as the devilish Mr Dellamort. Don’t forget to follow his rules, or there’ll be trouble. 4 stars.

 

Vagabond Skies, Gilded Balloon at the Museum.

Somewhere during the first few minutes of Tony Norman’s outstanding new musical, Vagabond Skies, you realise that you’re watching something very special. The story of the unbreakable friendship between Vincent Van Gogh and his brother Theo is packed with emotion and heartache, with Vincent’s slow descent into mental despair and his brother’s inability to bring him back from the abyss. Colourful characters like Gauguin, the Parisian art critics and the women in Vincent’s life all play a part in telling the story, and it’s performed in front of Dave Fricker’s visually eloquent series of back projections of Vincent’s work.

Norman’s lyrics are simple but powerful and instantly resonate with the audience; and his musical compositions are stunningly beautiful, brought to life by Mark Edwards’ glorious arrangements. Songs like Brother of Mine and the title song Vagabond Skies will stay with you long after the curtain comes down. Fantastic performances from the entire gifted ensemble, but a special mention of Alex Bloomer, who is tremendous as Vincent, conveying all his artistic hopes and talents with the destruction of his mental decline. This show needs a cast recording and fast! 5 stars.

Review – Top Hat, Festival Theatre, Chichester, 18th July 2025

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The big summer musical at the Chichester Festival Theatre is always a matter of great expectations. You can rely on an impressive production with no expense spared, and pretty much a full house for every performance. This year’s production, Irving Berlin’s Top Hat, has much to live up to – will it follow in the footsteps of last year’s outstanding Oliver! or other big hitters like Half a Sixpence, Crazy for You, South Pacific, Fiddler on the Roof, Oklahoma! – it’s a list of enviable quality.

I don’t have to tell you, gentle reader, that Top Hat is that hugely successful movie musical from 1935 starring Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers – ninety years old now and still holding a prominent place in the history of cinema and entertainment. Matthew White and Howard Jacques’ stage musical first appeared in 2011 and is a largely faithful adaptation of the original film. It’s not at all surprising that it’s considered worthy of a revival – after all, how can you miss with songs like Puttin’ on the Ritz, Cheek to Cheek, Top Hat White Tie and Tails and Let’s Face the Music and Dance.

To say it’s a simple plot is something of an insult to the notion of simplicity. American dancer Jerry Travers comes to London to appear in a show and meets – and annoys – Dale Tremont. He falls head over heels in love; she doesn’t. A case of mistaken identity ensues, with Dale believing Jerry to be married to her friend Madge, whereas Madge is married to Horace, the producer of the show. Dale marries an Italian fashion designer in anger; but Jerry is ever persistent, and when Dale’s marriage proves to be invalid as it was conducted by Horace’s butler – I know, bear with me – it all ends happily ever after. Even the spurned Italian fashion designer is happy, as he is placated by being employed to create Dale’s wedding dress. I don’t think he was really in love in the first place, do you?

I should point out that the show we saw was a Friday night preview, the fifth (I believe) public performance of the run, and of course I take that into account when summarising my thoughts. However, no amount of rehearsals, performances, tweaks and so on can change the fact that the script is incredibly corny, with some of the lamest jokes you’ll hear for many a year. Overall, the show is extraordinarily dated, and in a tedious rather than charming way. Various elements of the plot include stalking, misogyny, making fun of foreigners, domestic violence, love bombing and a spot of sexual harassment. Gosh they had fun in the 30s.

As for the production itself, it scores high on the basics but low on the embellishments. Credit where it’s due: Peter McKintosh’s set is superb, beautifully recreating a deco style, with a glass arch that reminded me of the Musée d’Orsay and a revolving stage underneath that transforms into hotel rooms, reception desks, and other vital scenes in the plot. He and Yvonne Milnes also designed the costumes which are outstanding; elegant, and totally in keeping with the era. Stephen Ridley’s out of sight orchestra fills the Festival Theatre with glorious arrangements of Berlin’s timeless tunes.

Kathleen Marshall, who also directs the show, choreographs all these big numbers, and there is – understandably – an emphasis on tap, which hits you full force with amplified tap shoes, creating a hugely impressive audible avalanche of tapping. However, the choreography for the non-tap routines feels less inspired and rather generic; and indeed, one wonders why they hit those Spanish lines for a routine that is set in Italy. Curious.

It’s a very skilful and experienced cast, but somehow the whole thing doesn’t gel. Philip Attmore playing Jerry is a fantastic tap dancer and showman, and Lucy St Louis as Dale looks the part completely and has a great voice, but there is hardly any chemistry between them. Clive Carter as Horace and James Clyde as his butler Bates do everything that the script requires of them – which is primarily to make them look stupid, with Mr Carter ending up with a black eye and a lipsticked mouth, and Mr Clyde looking like a very world-weary gondolier.

Alex Gibson-Giorgio injects the necessary high camp into his performance as fashionista Bedini, and the audience adored his solo number Latins Know How, but I’m afraid I found it excruciatingly cringeworthy and had to watch through the gaps in my fingers. The always reliable Sally Ann Triplett as Madge is missing in the first Act and her appearance at the beginning of Act Two breathes fresh life into the show, but even she gets bogged down with some dubiously outdated comedy.

By the time we were well into the second Act I was both very bored, and not remotely interested in any of the characters’ plights or how they would end up. Having great expectations of a show often leads to disappointment and that’s certainly the case for this production. Despite its glitz and glamour, great music and accomplished performers, this did nothing for me at all. I’ve added a star to my rating in the hope that it will improve in time for Press Night.

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – The Winter’s Tale, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 22nd July 2025

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A moon – or is it a planet? – stares down at us; huge, nebulous, ominous, as we enter the auditorium for Yaël Farber’s production of Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale. It reminds us that we are tiny people minimised by this great celestial influence; and wherever we go or whatever we do, we can’t escape it. It’s as old as Time – one of the play’s main themes – and it sets the tone for a certain otherworldliness for this production, which seems to put most of its theatrically inventive eggs in one basket – Act Four – leaving the rest of the play to fend for itself.

Time/AutolycusI always worry when an RSC production announces that Time will be one of its central themes – yes, I’m looking at you Macbeth – because it can overwhelm all the other aspects of the play. However, here, the emphasis on Time is neatly and appropriately placed, wrapping the Chorus and the character of Autolycus into one character. The Winter’s Tale features one of Shakespeare’s most curious structures for a play. Three Acts of tragedy, then a sixteen-year pause followed by two Acts of comedy; four Acts in the Sicilian court, one Act playing pastoral in Bohemia. This production makes a point of highlighting these contrasts, which not only makes for a visual spectacle, but deliberately unsettles the audience trying to bring both parts of the play into balance.

StatuesqueIt’s among Shakespeare’s least cosy comedies, with destructive jealousy, a wife turned into a statue, an amiable son killed, and the frequent appearance of Time, reminding us to enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think. Indeed, the production does take a few liberties which might annoy the purist. Not only that aforementioned popular song from the 1940s, but they’ve inserted a little Brecht, and there’s an exchange between Autolycus and the Clown that includes the insults bellend and wanker. It’s mildly amusing; fortunately, the play is big and strong enough to survive the occasional meddling.

CamilloBut the production is at its most effective when it leaves the work to Shakespeare. The chilling story of Leontes’ idiotic suspicions that his wife Hermione has been unfaithful with his brother Polixenes and that his brother is the father of Hermione’s unborn child is told with quiet, dignified clarity. After the interval we leave Sicilia for the ritualistic fire and dance fiesta that is Perdita hosting the sheep-shearing solstice festival; the programme notes tell us that the production explores Perdita’s connection to the myth of Persephone/Proserpina. Hold that thought. When we return to Sicilia for the final resolution, all is sedate again.

FiestaIt’s very clever dramaturgy, and there’s no doubting the visual and indeed musical impact of the solstice scene; but it’s such a contrast to what went before that, more than standing out like a sore thumb, it actually feels unintegrated with the rest of the play. After the lean, business-like atmosphere of the first act, this just feels like so much padding. Whilst watching it I could only question how this portrayal of the union of Perdita and Florizel, and the subsequent disapproval by Polixenes, in any way helps our understanding of the plot. I don’t think it does. Fortunately, the final “statue” scene is presented and acted immaculately, and that’s what you remember when you go home.

AntigonusThere is little in the way of set – and that works to the production’s advantage. All the changes of mood and setting are suggested by Tim Lutkin’s lighting design and Reuben Cohen and Oli Quintrell’s video projections. The incidental music composed by Max Perryment is hugely evocative and contributes enormously to the atmosphere and storytelling; there’s suspense in every chord.

Polixenes and LeontesA strong cast brings class and gravitas to the main roles. Bertie Carvel is excellent as Leontes – seemingly affable, flipping into viciously jealous in an instant. With his reputation at stake, this Leontes shuts himself off from all reason, delivering indiscriminate cruelty in all directions. Like a divine version of BBC Verify, when the words of the Oracle deliver their verdict on the innocence of Hermione and Polixenes, and the tyranny of Leontes, his fragile world simply falls apart. In these times of fake news and AI deception, it would be very useful to have a reliable Oracle like that come in every so often to make us see the truth.

HermioneMadeline Appiah is superb as Hermione; gracious, kindly, the perfect hostess, who gathers magnificent internal resolve in the face of her husband’s stupidity and vindictiveness. And she makes a fantastic statue; every eye in the Royal Shakespeare Theatre concentrates on her to see if she makes a tiny move and there isn’t an iota of a blink. There’s a very touching scene at the end when Hermione and Perdita are reunited, Ms Appiah’s joy at seeing her long lost daughter almost brought a tear to the eye – as did the excellent Amelda Brown as her “foster” shepherdess parent, knowing she must give back the daughter who was always only ever “on loan”.

PaulinaAïcha Kossoko brings power and a no-nonsense grimness to the role of Paulina, stepping in to protect her friend Hermione’s reputation and whatever future might be ahead. Great performances too from John Light as the wronged Polixenes and Raphael Sowole’s delicately spoken and faithful Camillo. Trevor Fox brings out all the mischief and cheerful lawlessness of his chain-smoking Autolycus, and there’s nice support from Leah Haile’s Perdita and Matthew Flynn’s Antigonus.

Perdita and FlorizelIt’s a moody, atmospheric production that tells its story clearly, apart from a total flight of fantasy in Act Four which just left me wondering why. But if you ever wanted a clear account of the characters of Leontes and Hermione so that you fully understand their story, this is the production for you.

P. S. Not so much exit pursued by a bear, more exit, listlessly observed by an indolent bear. But it’s very hard to act out that stage direction credibly.

Production photos by Marc Brenner

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review Marie and Rosetta, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 18th July 2025

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Who said theatre isn’t educational? I don’t know how I got to [insert old age here] years old and had never heard of Sister Rosetta Tharpe and Marie Knight. Rosetta was born in 1915 into a family of cotton pickers driven by music and started singing at the age of six in her mother’s evangelical touring troupe. Marie was born in 1920 (although she later decided 1925 sounded better) into a Pentecostal family in New Jersey and sang with evangelist Frances Robinson and gospel singer Mahalia Jackson. Rosetta recorded Decca’s first ever gospel songs and became an overnight sensation, but both were extraordinarily gifted performers. And in 1946 the two met and started performing together.

Playwright George Brant decided that Rosetta led such a full and incident-packed life that it would be impossible to tell her story in one play. He has chosen to concentrate on that one period in her life, when she and Marie started working together; thus Marie and Rosetta is a reimagined staging of what it must have been like to observe their initial rehearsals before their opening shows.

It’s clear that Rosetta is the star, with a successful recording contract and live appearances with the likes of Cab Calloway at venues like the Cotton Club and Carnegie Hall. Not for nothing was she called the Godmother of Rock ‘n’ Roll! She’s rich with life experience too, with failed marriages and living the harsh realities of the racial segregation laws. By contrast, Marie has come to prominence through the Church, has married a preacher and is clearly more motivated by her religious beliefs than Rosetta.

It’s this considerable difference between the individuals’ backgrounds that creates an artistic tension that the two characters explore, most clearly seen in Marie’s insistence on Sing whereas Rosetta naturally opts for Swing. Rosetta knows that, despite her admiration and appreciation of Marie’s talent, they wouldn’t be able to work together if Marie was to look down on Rosetta because of some religious superiority. So does Sing beat Swing or does Swing become too much of a temptation for Sing? If you don’t already know, you’ll have to watch the play to find out!

What appears to be a straightforwardly constructed play reveals something of a twist towards the end, which is handled very deftly and satisfyingly. Unfortunately Mr Brant slightly rushes the ending, trying to fit in as much extra information about the two singers as possible, which, though interesting and relevant, feels like too much to take on board so late in the play.

Simply, but not unattractively, staged, our two singers find themselves in a funeral home for their first rehearsal, but with shimmering showbiz curtains around them, two of which conceal live musicians: guitarist and musical director Shirley Tetteh stage left and pianist Mia Odeleye stage right. It’s distinctly a play with music rather than a musical, but there’s no doubt that the performances of the music are the highlight of this show. A few of the songs were familiar to me, but the vast majority were not, and it was a blissful discovery of a genre of music of which I know little – so that’s a second educational aspect to the show!

And what vocal performances! Beverley Knight, originally a hugely successful recording artist and now a doyenne of the musical stage, plays Rosetta with heart, pizzazz, cheek, and plenty of vulnerability; she truly brings the character to life. And as soon as she starts singing her amazing clear tones resound around the Minerva with both guts and warmth. As an aside, the Minerva is a smaller venue and therefore singers like Ms Knight need little amplification and the musical sound is all the better for it.

And she is matched by Ntombizodwa Ndlovu as Marie; portraying her initially as a starstruck young woman who can’t believe her luck to be performing with someone of the stature of Rosetta and then visibly growing in confidence and determined to make her own artistic decisions. Ms Ndlovu is a terrific find with a superb voice, a lovely feel for comedy and a truly likeable stage presence.

Marie and Rosetta has already visited the Rose Theatre Kingston and the Wolverhampton Grand and continues its run at the Minerva in Chichester until 26th July.

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

 

Review – 4.48 Psychosis, Royal Shakespeare Company at The Other Place, Stratford-upon-Avon, 15th July 2025

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Sarah Kane’s final play is a challenge to any director or cast. How do you treat this poetic but agonising piece of writing, which leaves few clues as to how it should be staged, with the dignity and respect that it deserves, without simply creating a gloomfest? It cries out for its voice to be heard and demands that you at least try to understand the mental torture of its writer. But, when all’s said and done, it’s not a lecture or TED talk, it’s a play and decisions have to be made as to how to present it.

CastIn what must be an almost unique venture, the entire original creative team have reunited 25 years later in this co-production with the Royal Court Theatre, at whose Jerwood Theatre Upstairs the play was first produced. Not only the same cast and the same director, James Macdonald; it’s the same team of designer, lighting and sound. So, even without seeing the original, I feared this might be an exercise in preserving something in aspic rather than an attempt to find new things in the text that were not obvious 25 years ago.

MirrorIt is, however, a brand new production, and James Macdonald and designer Jeremy Herbert have come up with a masterstroke; a huge mirror, the same dimensions as the stage, slanting at a daunting angle, reflecting the on-stage activity as a backdrop, and even capturing the first few rows of the audience to add to its theatricality. Nigel Edwards’ inspired lighting design highlights the two chairs and table in the mirror to create some truly impressive effects, and Ben Walden’s projection adds to the magic by turning the table surface into a window on the world, or blasting the entire stage with white noise, offering an insight into the clarity of vision and thought (or lack thereof) experienced by our protagonist.

Daniel EvansEach of the three actors takes on many guises over the 70 minutes; not only someone suffering from severe depression, but doctors, friends, colleagues and all the other voices who do their best to offer support or lend reason to the central character. And it’s in those side characterisations that Kane gives the cast an occasional opportunity to lighten the weight of the text. There’s a truly laugh out loud moment when Daniel Evans, portraying a doctor who’s clearly had a long hard day, bursts out with I fucking hate this job and I need my friends to be sane – only to realise that it was a Did I say that out loud moment and then have to apologise profusely.

Madeleine PotterMacdonald places his actors in all sorts of unusual positions for several of their speeches – resting flat on the ground in a crucifixion or savasana pose, or on top of the table with their head tilted over the edge, talking directly to the mirror, or furiously writhing on the table, all of which create fascinating images in the mirror, helping us to see them, literally, from a different perspective. It sounds gimmicky, but it works. The actors write backwards on the table top – medical prescriptions, or simply their thoughts – so that we can see the writing in the mirror; a clever touch.

Jo McInnesThe ensemble of Daniel Evans, Jo McInnes and Madeleine Potter dovetail their speeches and actions immaculately, with superb vocal clarity throughout. One of the most powerful moments comes when Jo McInnes struggles violently on top of the table, so that in the mirror she appears trapped within a tiny box, a true metaphor for the state of her mind. The whole play is performed with devastating sincerity but emotionally controlled, peppered with daringly long pauses where the characters find neither the words, the impetus, nor the need, to speak.

White NoiseSarah Kane submitted her text to the Royal Court in 1999 and within a few days had taken her own life. It’s impossible to separate the personal tragedy from the theatrical product, but it’s clear that this is a lucid, deliberate, structured piece of work. The title, it is said, comes from the fact that she would wake at 4.48 due to her mental anguish. As her text states: At 4.48 when sanity visits for one hour and twelve minutes I am in my right mind. When it has passed I shall be gone again. One hour and twelve minutes is almost exactly how long it takes to perform the play; is this as an affirmation that the piece is written in those brief times of sanity surrounded by mental torture?

RSVP ASAPA very intense piece of writing given a great performance with an inspired setting. This isn’t the kind of play one enjoys; rather it’s an opportunity to bear witness to a state of mind that one hopes one never encounters personally but which is very real and prevalent all around us. And it is the sad swansong of a huge talent taken too young.

Production photos by Marc Brenner

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Evita, London Palladium, 3rd July 2025

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This is our first Jamie Lloyd production for a few years – we last saw his work directing some of those Pinters at the Pinter in 2018/19, and jolly good they were too. He has always had an eye for the showier aspects of a text, but I think it’s fair to say he’s come a long way since then. I’m sure we missed a treat with his Sunset Boulevard, but as it’s one of the few shows that Mrs Chrisparkle detests, it never reached the diary. So I was very keen to see what Mr Lloyd would do to a show that was a formative influence in my teenage years. This is the fourth production of Evita I’ve seen and, to be honest, I’m not sure it’s ever truly been staged as well as its material deserves – the illustrious Ms Elaine Paige notwithstanding.

Here’s some honest advice if you’re going to see this production as an Evita virgin, if I can put it like that. Do a bit of research about her life and run your eyes over the libretto online. It will all make much more sense. Whilst the best of Tim Rice’s lyrics in the show are immaculately chosen words that truly get under the skin of the characters, without an additional book to link the songs together, you need to pay very close attention to the lyrics, and, with the best will in the world, they’re not always crystal clear.

Additionally, Soutra Gilmour’s set and costumes, whilst completely perfect for this vision of the show, don’t offer much in the way of visual clues as to where we are or who’s talking, which also doesn’t help the narrative. All we see is a series of terraces leading up to the top of the stage where hangs a huge, illuminated EVITA sign. And whilst the basic black rock concert outfits of most of the ensemble is great for suggesting the masses, other costume variation is minimal, with various shades of grey for everyone else except a few splashes of muted colour for Magaldi, gold for the middle classes, and radiant white for when Eva is “on show”.

That said, this is an Evita unlike any other and sets a standard for the future that I think will be hard to replicate. There is a dynamism, a power, a thrill bursting through every scene and every song, performed by an exquisitely well cast company who boldly go where no dictator, first lady, mistress or everyman have ever gone before. For example, Lloyd has Peron’s ex-mistress – Bella Brown taking every advantage offered with this fantastic song – lamenting her lot in Another Suitcase, Another Hall on the steps as though she’s just been chucked out of a mansion, whilst Eva and Peron toast each other with self-congratulatory champers at the top. In past productions, this has been staged to highlight the isolation of the mistress, facing a lonely and hopeless future. But here, when the song is over, she is comforted by a group of similarly dressed exes, and we realise that she is just one of a sequence of girls who clearly have a support system in place. There is also a beautiful callback towards the end of the show where Peron goes up and snogs another similarly dressed girl whilst Eva is singing through her dying breaths. She won’t be the last. A brilliant insight.

Previous productions of Evita, I have always thought, have played down the ruthlessness of the Peronist regime, turning the marching men into smartly dressed clockwork toy soldiers, like fashionable automata. Inherent in that has been the presentation of Peron himself as a much older, hardnosed, experienced autocrat who will brook neither nonsense nor disobedience. Here he is played by James Olivas, a much younger actor than usual, whose Peron exudes that arrogance of youth that makes him an even more terrifying prospect – you feel this Peron has a lifetime of evil and corruption ahead of him. It’s much easier to imagine why this charismatic Peron would have had success at the election.

Another transformed characterisation is Aaron Lee Lambert’s Magaldi, who’s normally seen just as a cipher, the first step on Eva’s ladder to success. Here the character is filled out with real emotion and personality, and his flourishing rendition of On This Night of a Thousand Stars, a pure pastiche of a dated, hackneyed showtune, turns it into a real song and a star vehicle. And there’s a delightful change to Santa Evita where we no longer have adorable innocent children looking to Eva for support but a junior cynical Eva, dressed like the first lady, extorting cash in the manner of her heroine – a fantastically knowing turn from young Ffion Rosalie Williams at our performance.

The whole show is backed by the most versatile and hard-working ensemble of singers and dancers who perform Fabian Aloise’s gripping choreography with maximum effort; this is unquestionably one very fit group of people. Their movements almost blur with the speed of delivery and create waves of engaging patterns across the stage, but if you settle your eye on any one individual and follow them for any length of time you realise both how demanding the choreography is, and how it’s performed with pinpoint precision.

Che – the everyman narrator of the show who, despite his name doesn’t have to be associated with the famous freedom fighter/terrorist (you choose) – is given a tremendous performance by Diego Andres Rodriguez; vocally superb, amusingly cynical, and thoroughly dramatic. He spends the last half an hour or so of the show covered in blue, white and red paint, which I assume symbolises his (and the people’s) death at the hands of the Argentine flag; a visually stunning effect, although it doesn’t quite explain his continued ability to revive himself sufficiently to sing along with the final broadcast, montage and lament.

Rachel Zegler gives a monumental performance as Eva. She has a glorious singing voice, full of personality and expression, and can create all the extraordinary moods that the character embodies. Much has been made about the staging of Don’t Cry for me Argentina on the balcony overlooking Argyle Street; before the show I was cynical about the effectiveness of that decision, especially as it must inevitably deprive the paying audience of the privilege of seeing it. But no; it’s a brilliant innovation. The camera work is outstanding – as is the audio relay – so the audience loses none of the clarity and beauty of the performance; but the sights of the crowds outside, the crying onlookers, Eva berating the cameraman, the subtle looks and private moments, all come together to make it a much more dramatic and insightful scene. Yes, it is perhaps odd that Eva should be singing to a bunch of people outside a branch of Pret, but you can forgive that. As Che himself says at one point, “as a mere observer of this tasteless phenomenon, you have to admire the stage management”, whilst Eva retreats to the sumptuous upper lounges of the Palladium cosseting a well-deserved champagne. And the use of video continues, to observing Eva in her dressing room, removing her wig, briefly breaking down whilst she comes to terms with what she has done, then resolving herself to return to the stage; which is all done so seamlessly and with technical wizardry. It’s a masterstroke.

Number after number enraptures the audience: Buenos Aires, Goodnight and Thank You, A New Argentina, Rainbow High, Rainbow Tour, And the Money Kept Rolling In… the show is packed with great songs, and this production serves them all terrifically. A New Argentina sends us into the interval covered with more streamers and confetti than I’ve ever seen. As one wag was heard to remark on the way out at the end, I hope they’ve got a Shark. Perhaps the brashness of the production reveals the show’s weakest spot – which is that, much as Eva’s health did, it rather dwindles out at the end. But it’s a landmark production and truly invigorating – a 100% instant standing ovation at the Palladium is a thrill for everyone.

Five Alive Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – The Constant Wife, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 1st July 2025

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Are we seeing a resurgence in the influence of Somerset Maugham? After Theatre Royal Bath’s blissful revival of The Circle last year, now comes Laura Wade’s invigorating version of The Constant Wife, his 1926 sparkler about infidelity and how to handle it. Give me a revival of the 1976 musical Liza of Lambeth next and I’ll be very happy. Maugham’s original play tells the story of the relationship between John, a Harley Street doctor married to Constance, and Marie-Louise, a spoilt and vacuous pretty little thing, married to Mortimer. Both Constance’s mother and sister are fully aware of the affair and differ as to whether she should be told about it. But Constance has known about it all along and has been biding her time to work it to her best advantage.

ConstanceWhere Maugham tells the story as a simple, linear narrative, Laura Wade’s deft re-ordering puts the affair out in the open right from the start and then goes back in time so that we can see how Constance discovered the affair a year earlier. There’s nothing Laura Wade likes more than to play with time as she did very effectively in both The Watsons and Home I’m Darling – and The Constant Wife is no exception. Both HID and TCW feature a strong central female backed by a purposefully resilient mother, but where Judy in HID revels in the lifestyle of a meek 50s housewife, much to her mother’s consternation, Constance embodies feminism by knowing precisely what she wants and how to get it, while her mother is the type who feels that if a man plays away from home it’s entirely the woman’s fault. One of the best lines of the play is when Constance tells her mother why she always knew that Bernard wasn’t the man for her: “he was a trifle too much inclined to lie down on the floor and let me walk over him”. It’s a line that gives you an instant insight into her character.

John and Marie-LouiseThey say that knowledge is power; by concealing the fact that she knew about the affair, Constance starts to create a new financially independent life for herself hidden in plain sight. If this were an episode of The Traitors it would be like winning a shield and not telling anyone. However, neither Maugham’s Constance nor Wade’s updated version ever puts a foot out of character, retaining her dignity and total faithfulness to her class and her status. Indeed, the whole production’s adherence to its original 1920s setting and atmosphere is one of its greatest virtues; the occasional – and extremely funny – double entendre notwithstanding.

CastMy only quibble here is that Jamie Cullum’s jazz-oriented incidental music, whilst doubtless of the age, feels a little out of balance with the rest of the production. There’s no sense of the Jazz Age in the text or the characterisations – Marie-Louise could easily have been portrayed as a flapper but she decidedly isn’t – so the music didn’t work for me. That aside, the other creative aspects are excellent. Ryan Day’s subtle lighting suggests the world outside the Harley Street drawing room, Anna Fleischle and Cat Fuller’s costumes reflect the characterisations perfectly; even the fabrics and objets d’art that Martha sells in her shop are spot-on – that “lovely” lamp is hideous by the way, but that’s all part of the fun.

Bernard and JohnAs well as reshaping the sequences of the plotline, Laura Wade’s script takes all the best Maugham scenes and many of his brilliant killer lines and smartly updates the scenario with the removal of an unnecessary character (Barbara), enhancement of the character of Bentley, the butler, and some lovely meta moments, currently very en vogue. I particularly liked the whole notion of the play that Constance and Bernard are going to see and how sometimes you need a refresher after the interval. Tamara Harvey’s direction is clear and delightfully lacking in gimmickry, although there were a few scenes where our view from Row F of the Ground (stalls) was blocked – four actors positioned in a diagonal line across the stage so that only the nearest could be seen; I know from ecstatic laughter around me that we missed some obvious gems of physical comedy, which is a shame.

Constance and Mrs CulverThe cast are uniformly superb, each giving terrific performances. Raj Bajaj is brilliant as Bernard, perpetually uncomfortable with himself and on the brink of exploding with love for Constance. Amy Morgan brings out all the comedy of sibling exasperation as sister Martha, and Luke Norris as John gives an intelligent portrayal of a husband caught out but not prepared to take all the blame. Emma McDonald’s Marie-Louise wheedles her way out of an awkward situation beautifully, cleverly showing us how unclever her character really is.

ConstanceKate Burton is pitch-perfect as Mrs Culver, Constance’s mother, delivering her fantastic lines with knowing authority and impish fun; and there’s great support from Daniel Millar’s perplexed and easily fooled Mortimer and Mark Meadows as the super-reliable Bentley. But it is Rose Leslie who takes centre stage throughout with a thoroughly believable, smart and witty portrayal of Constance, handling all her inner circle with various degrees of manipulativeness, apart from her only truly honest relationship, with Bentley, Bentleywhere she can completely be herself.

An excellent production of a timeless play, brought smartly to life by a neat adaptation. Don’t underestimate Maugham – he’s better than you think he is.

 

Production photos by Johan Persson

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Here We Are, Lyttelton Theatre at the National Theatre, London, 21st May 2025

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Sometimes creativity flows like an unstoppable stream; sometimes it sputters and falters like an airlock in a hosepipe. Such was the journey that the late great Stephen Sondheim’s final work, Here We Are, took on its forty year trek from inspiration to performance. Inspired by two Luis Buñuel films, its first act is based on 1972’s The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, and the second on 1962’s Exterminating Angel. Separate films, but Sondheim’s music and lyrics, together with David Ives’ book, merge the two with the same set of characters creating one story.

A ruthless hedge fund manager and his superficial wife (together with her activist sister) meet with their besties, a plastic surgeon and a showbiz agent, plus the ambassador of the dubious fictional state of Miranda, to go on the hunt for brunch or lunch or whatever they can get to feed their faces. Three of those people operate a drugs cartel and another is helping plan the end of the world, but, hey, you gotta eat, right? En route they find a café with no food or drink, a bistro with a dead chef, and a brasserie with fake food. And having finally found a place to eat – at the Mirandan embassy – they find they are physically unable to leave and end up suffering agonising deprivation until some kind of cathartic sacrifice is made. Just a normal day in New York really.

Halfway through the first act I realised that the show is either total genius or utter drivel; the truth is, as is often the case, a blend of the two. There is a message peeping through, that one must live for today because, after all, here we are. Marianne, for example, spends the entire show trying to remember what it was that she was meant to do today but she can’t recall it until the end when she says she won’t say what it was, but she’ll just do it anyway. In other words: don’t talk about it; do it – a bit clumsy, but we take her point. Her understanding is helped by a conversation with a bishop (silly me, I didn’t mention the bishop – or the military personnel) trying to fathom what being alive means; clearly, she’s never seen Bobby’s conclusion in Company.

There are all sorts of threads here within a hair’s breadth of coming together but they don’t quite make it. Of course, Sondheim died four years ago and so was unable to apply his magic touch to the final product. After his death, Ives and director Joe Mantello made no changes to any of his music but continued to work on the book to adapt it to the raw materials that needed refinement.

The Sondheim element to the show remains unmistakably Sondheim. It’s light on songs – if you’re expecting a “list of musical numbers” in the programme, think again – but the first act has plenty of his trademark recitative passages which especially bring Into The Woods to mind. And there are many witty sequences, such as the Waiter’s Song lamenting his plight that he can only disappoint his customers through lack of fare, although it ends with a surprisingly bleak conclusion.

Perhaps one of the reasons the show doesn’t really work is that Sondheim and Ives try to stick too closely to the various surreal elements of the films. The endless walking, the bear and the sheep, the bishop, the catastrophic childhood of an incidental character, and so on; integrating all these elements requires a true lightness of touch which the show doesn’t really manage. We’re not so much talking inspiration, more homage, where every possible reference to the earlier works must be crammed in. Where the Buñuel originals succeed through the sheer style and surrealism of his immense cinematic art, these elements just seem faintly ridiculous on a brutally exposed stage. Few of the characters are likeable, and even the others are so lightly sketched in that we neither identify with them nor care about their plight. The ambassador, Raffael Santello di Santicci, is pure pantomime funny foreigner; a committed performance by Paulo Szot, but, surely, we should have left that kind of stuff in the 70s.

What Sondheim achieves so astoundingly in so many of his works – that insight into the human condition, how we form and sustain relationships, how we live with disappointment and failure – is disappointingly lacking here. Yes, there are characters with wasted lives, but that comes as no surprise to them. They realise it and don’t care about it – so why should we?

That said, it’s pretty much impossible to imagine a better production of this show. David Zinn’s amazing set mixes glass and chrome sterility with the comfort of a lavish embassy; individual faux-restaurants are suggested by lighting changes and fashionable fonts. Nigel Lilley’s gorgeous sounding orchestra has less to do than in most Sondheim shows but does it immaculately.

The production is overflowing with fantastic actors who make the show immensely watchable despite so much of its content. Rory Kinnear sets just the right level of privilege as Leo Brink, knowing that it won’t matter that they haven’t booked a table and that he’s still in his loungewear because he’s Leo Brink. Jane Krakowski’s Marianne is a brilliant study of a beautiful but inane wife, never changing out of her peignoir, celebrating her love of the superficial in one of the show’s most successful songs, Shine.

Jesse Tyler Ferguson has a whale of a time as plastic surgeon Paul, viciously air-kissing Martha Plimpton’s wonderfully excessively demanding Claudia. Chumisa Dornford-May has one of the best singing voices in the company and gives us a delightfully sullen Fritz, quietly but amusingly ineptly working to overthrow capitalism; she is matched by the always superb Richard Fleeshman as the Soldier, the epitome of romanticism and the only character who seems to have true emotions. His “Soldier’s Dream” is a mischievously constructed piece that delights in breaking the fourth wall and is an undoubted highlight of the show.

Cameron Johnson is a decent Colonel Martin and Harry Hadden-Paton very entertaining as the wavering, people-pleasing Bishop. Tracie Bennett brings terrific humour as well as her astounding voice to the character of “Woman” – basically, all the incidental female roles in the show – and at our performance, Edward Baker-Duly was an excellent understudy as “Man”, including that alarmingly regretful waiter and the sinister butler Windsor. Together the whole cast are a formidable team who don’t put a foot wrong, and bring a feelgood factor to a show that otherwise lacks a feelgood factor.

There are some entertaining moments and flashes of classic Sondheim, but overall the show is a draining experience. It’s a curiosity and completes one’s own private Sondheim Collection, but it doesn’t enhance the great man’s reputation; and the very heavy, unmusical second act is, frankly, an endurance test. But it is a great production, and Sondheim aficionados will want to see it under any circumstances. I can only suggest that you see it for yourself.

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – The Government Inspector, Festival Theatre, Chichester, 10th May 2025

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Back in those boring Covid pandemic days, I realised that I’d never read any Gogol, and decided that was a situation that needed rectifying. So I downloaded his short stories onto my Kindle for free, and spent many a happy hour laughing my head off at his hilarious, thoroughly rude observations, pricking the pomposity of the pretentious, and noting how, two hundred years on, his truths live on and nothing much has changed.

I’d seen a production of his The Government Inspector in 2011, and although it was something of a critical success, I wasn’t overly impressed. It was a sloppy show that went for cheap laughs and camped it up over the top, even though it thought itself to be a true smartypants of a production. Surely, Chichester, with a new version directed by Gregory Doran, will do a slicker job of it. I assumed.

This production has gone – largely – for a traditional approach, with a truly 1830s setting, costumes and music. The opening scene shows much promise, with all the officials of the town in a panic because a government inspector is in their midst and they all fear he will root out their corruption, bribe taking and inefficiency, thereby ruining their lovely lives. In true Gogol style, no time is wasted getting to the heart of the play, and it’s performed with urgency and commitment. Good start.

However, then everything just grinds to a complete halt. Whilst the audience is now ready to see this government inspector for themselves, Gogol instead introduces us to the mayor’s wife and daughter, bickering petulantly and tediously about nothing much. And the pace that had been built up in the first scene instantly collapses. It’s not a very funny conversation and it doesn’t get many laughs. By the time the scene is over and we go on to the inn where the Inspector (it isn’t the inspector by the way – it’s a joke of mistaken identity) and his man are staying with no intention of paying for their board and lodging, it’s amazing how little we care about any of them. As the play progresses, we realise how completely unlikeable every character in the story is, and no amount of pomposity-pricking is going to do anything to improve it.

The staging doesn’t help; the opening scene ranges widely over the huge Festival Theatre stage, using every inch available; but the second scene is very static and just takes place on two chairs at the front, and the third scene is crammed into a tiny part of the stage, which literally prevents its characters from breathing. You feel you want to somehow release them from their confinement.

A fool and his money are soon parted, goes the saying, and that is at the heart of the play. Each town officer does his best to bribe Khlestakov, the (non-) inspector, and as that wretch realises what is going on, his requests for money get bigger and bigger. At the end, the entire town has made an idiot of itself, and our anti-hero has sped off, cash in hand, looking for some other sad saps to dupe. It’s a very credible cautionary tale. But this production is most definitely not the sum of its parts. Too much shouting, inadequate use of the stage, some roles bizarrely underplayed whilst others are overplayed, it feels very unbalanced. There’s not enough light and shade, and despite their best efforts you never really get an understanding of the peril that the townspeople face. Individual rounds of applause are reserved for the three musicians who pop up during scene changes, and for an amusing but hardly original design trick of having a little carriage dart all around the stage, depicting the escape of the villainous clerk Khlestakov and his servant Osip. I saw that done in On The Twentieth Century in 1978 – it was mildly amusing then and it’s mildly amusing now.

True to Gogol, the play ends with a final tableau for what feels like at least a minute, daring individual audience members to start the final applause, whilst most of us just sit uncertain and uncomfortable at what we’re seeing. Whilst I admire this faithfulness to the original text, it does put the audience through an ocean of odd reactions and emotions, and you just want to look away!

There are some successful performances – Lloyd Hutchinson is good as the Mayor, a fiery mass of anxiety and overconfidence, and Miltos Yerolemou and Paul Rider work together excellently as Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky, the two minor officials who are almost two parts of the same body. Nick Haverson gives the best performance of all as Osip, the servant, ruthlessly and viciously putting his own interests first, no matter what his master wants.

Sylvestra le Touzel and Laurie Ogden play the mother and daughter looking and sounding like Mrs Slocombe and Liz Truss, which is an alarming visual prospect; for me, their performances never felt credible or, sadly, entertaining. Tom Rosenthal’s Khlestakov is a competent performance but neither larger than life enough to convince us of his importance, nor measly enough to convey truthfully that he is a smalltown clerk.

I’ve never seen a Saturday night Festival theatre audience so empty, and I’m afraid it was even emptier after the interval. The comedy gets lost in the franticness, and this production simply doesn’t work.

 

Two Disappointing For More!

Review – The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 10th May 2025

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Our summer Chichester season for 2025 kicked off with a new musical based on Rachel Joyce’s book, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, with music and lyrics by Passenger and the book by Joyce herself. I’m not familiar with the original novel, which was longlisted for the 2012 Man Booker Prize, nor the film of 2023 starring Jim Broadbent, nor the musical back-catalogue of Passenger, so I approached the show with no expectations or preconceptions whatsoever – often a good thing.

A deceptively simple story, it tells the tale of the retired Harold Fry who, having received a letter out of the blue from an old friend and work colleague, Queenie, saying that she’s now living in a hospice in Berwick upon Tweed, decides, on a whim, to walk all the way from Devon to Berwick to visit her. On his way, he meets various people whose lives he enriches by his kindness and simple determination, and who in turn affect him and his view of the world. His influence grows and he becomes so inspirational that he’s an unintentional Insta sensation! Initially it infuriates his wife, Maureen. Their marriage had become stale and grumpy because of a breakdown in communication, but eventually both come to terms with a re-evaluation of their lives.

Samuel Wyer’s design for the show is also simple and straightforward; a bare stage, but with tables, chairs, shop fronts, front doors, and so on all rapidly wheeled on and off to suggest the various locations of the story. Katy Rudd’s ensemble of actors all work their socks off to get the settings into position, bringing props on and off the stage with impressive dexterity; and there are some terrifically unexpected costume changes, such as when “Garage Girl” sheds her shop assistant’s uniform to reveal a shiny, glitzy blue tasselled outfit worthy of Diana Ross and the Supremes.

It’s a very charming, emotional, show; closer to The Hired Man than 42nd Street, but you probably guessed that already. All the characters in the story go on a journey, not just Harold and his big trek, but all the people he meets en route; and it’s not just a physical journey. All those aspects of ourselves that we never have the time or opportunity in everyday life to consider, those abilities or talents, those hidden passions, those secret truths, all come out along the way. It’s always rewarding when, at the end of a play, a book or film, you’ve been taken to a different place from where you went in, and The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry does that with great success.

The music truly helps us all on the journey, with delightful songs that move the story forward. Three such gems are Walk Upon the Water, which encourages Harold to have the courage of his convictions, Shout it From the Rooftops when the Silver Haired Gentleman is convinced that it’s finally time for him to be honest about his sexuality, and Such is Life, sung by the Farmer’s Wife, which is one of the most positive statements I’ve ever heard about coming to terms with childlessness. The style of music also heavily suggests countryside, not just bucolic bliss, but nature red in tooth and claw too. There’s nothing romantic or tranquil about the state of Harold’s feet after walking that far. And there are lessons to be learned about the power of thought too.

The production boasts some terrific performances. Jack Wolfe, just about the only good thing about the RSC’s ghastly Magician’s Elephant a few years ago, here plays “The Balladeer”, a kind of spirit character who both encourages and influences Harold on his journey as well as narrating the story. He has a fragile, ethereal stage presence perfect for the role and a brilliant voice to boot. His significance develops as the tale unfolds, but I’m not going to spoil that revelation for you.

Sharon Rose is also superb in the roles of Garage Girl and Kate, a powerful, comedically gifted performer with a great voice and presence. Tarinn Callender excels in many roles but particularly as Wilf, Fry’s number one Pilgrim. And there’s fantastic support from Amy Booth-Steel as the Farmer’s Wife, Queenie and other roles, Don Gallagher as the Silver Haired Gentleman and the dreadful Mr Napier, Madeleine Worrall as Sister Philomena at the hospice, and knock-out puppetry from Timo Tatzber who brings “Dog” to life with such character and lovability.

The always tremendous Jenna Russell is on top form as Maureen, although it is a shame that she has so few singing opportunities; and Mark Addy is excellent as Harold, the pivotal character to whom things happen rather than his making them happen. His is a curious character in many regards, perhaps more notable for what he is not than what he is; but Mr A commands the stage with natural authority.

It tells its story clearly and packed with emotion – there’s a desperate rush for the Handy Andies at the end, so be warned. A very clever combination of the powerful and the gentle which makes you feel just that little bit more hopeful for mankind at the end.

P. S. Neighbour Rex traces Fry halfway around the country and meets up with him so that Maureen can Facetime him; Harold left in such a hurry he forgot to take his mobile with him. But why the heck doesn’t Rex bring Harold’s phone, to give him? It makes no sense! That blip in the logic of the piece really annoyed me!

P. P. S. I humbly suggest they could do with changing the title of the song, You’re Fucked. Not through any sense of prudishness, but they ought to take a leaf out of A Chorus Line’s book. In that show’s early try-outs, people would look at the programme before the show, see that there was a song called Tits ‘n’ Ass, have a good chuckle about it, and then not laugh much when it appeared during the show. They then decided to rename it Dance Ten Looks Three so that the surprise could be hidden until the last moment. Similarly, the audience for Harold Fry has a good chuckle when they see there’s a song called You’re Fucked; as a result, that means it has less of an impact during the show. Just call it The Doctor’s Song instead!

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows