Category Archives: Theatre

University of Northampton, BA (Hons) Acting, Undergraduates 2017 Showcase Programme, Tristan Bates Theatre, London, 21st June 2017

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Over the past eight months it’s been my privilege to attend several productions featuring the 3rd Year Acting students of Northampton University. I’ve been to Isham Dark (isn’t that in The Lord of the Rings?) to see Shrapnel andShe Echoes. I’ve been to the Royal Theatre to see Posh, Pornography and Vinegar Tom. I saw all fifteen of this year’s Flash Festival shows. And I was honoured to be invited to attend their London showcase on Wednesday, where they once again showed their talent in front of an audience including many theatrical agents and directors.

Whilst I also saw the 2016 bunch at the Royal and in some Flash shows, I didn’t get to see their early productions and I didn’t see their showcase. The benefit of seeing individual performers in at least four different productions is that you can really get a sense of their versatility, their strengths, their vocal abilities and so on. You can see when an individual really excels in a role, or when they rise to a challenge and really surprise you; just as sometimes you can see when someone takes an unsuitable role, or for some reason just doesn’t bring to the stage what you hope from them. I love going to the theatre – I always want to enjoy it, I always want to appreciate the best of what I see. And that is my watchword for when I write a review; I will always try to concentrate on the good, and if I have criticisms, I try to be constructive with them. But I also always have to be honest, because there’s simply no point in doing it if I’m not. As at today I think I’ve seen approximately 1450 productions – so I do have quite a lot of experience from the front stalls!

The showcase was a fascinating experience for me to witness for the first time. Almost all the students appeared in fifteen short sketches or playlets, either parts of a longer work or mini-masterpieces in their own right. It seemed to me that it was essential to make the correct choice to show off each individual’s most marketable qualities. Use of humour was important; two of the pieces were absolutely hilarious, and in both cases the four performers – Karr Kennedy and Jessica Bichard in Diary of a Madman, and Lauren Scott and Olly Manning in Beyond Therapy – came across with really top quality performances. High drama also works well: scenes with great conflict, soul searching, confrontation and argument were memorable and brought out the best in the performers: Olivia Sarah Jayne Noyce and Benjamin Hampton in a scene from Closer, Victoria Rowlands and Joseph T Callaghan in The Mercy Seat, and Steven Croydon, Connor McCreedy and Jack James in First Light all excelled here.

It’s when the scene really feels like it’s part of a much larger work that I sometimes felt the performers had a harder task to project themselves. Nevertheless, I thought that Kundai Kanyama and Ben Barton created a fascinating scenario in their scene from Let the Right One In, as did Jennifer Wyndham, Becky Fowler and Jessica Bridge in Di and Viv and Rose; both scenes were very engaging and the actors created very identifiable and believable characters. There were some quirky scenes too; Luke Mortimore and Tom Garland presenting a very disconcerting but strangely convincing scenario in Perve; and Jennifer Etherington and Rachel Graham-Brown rounding ominously on the hapless Daniel Ambrose-Jones in the picnic from hell in Morning. Regarding the six sketches I haven’t mentioned – that doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy them or think they were well performed, but perhaps they didn’t quite have the same impact as the others.

It was great to talk to so many of this year’s “team” after the show, and to hear about what plans they have for the immediate future and in which directions they hope the careers will go long term. They really are a splendid bunch of people! What I learned specifically from an alcohol point of view was that Helena Fenton is not to be trusted with any sharp movements if you have a full glass in your hand (almost a calamity), Chris Drew can’t pour prosecco for toffee and Hans Oldham was shocked when I lurched for a third glass of the aforementioned prosecco – although less so when we agreed to share the remainder of the bottle.

I was there with my friend and co-reviewer A Small Mind at the Theatre and he has very bravely committed to paper his award-winners for the year. Whereas last year there were a few absolutely stand-out performers that were very obviously the best, this year, for me, choosing the best is a much harder task. I’ve had a stab at selecting my favourites, but I cannot come up with a short-list that I think truly represents everyone’s capabilities. To be honest, any one person from this intake is a potential star in the making. All I can do is wish everyone the very best of luck and I look forward to following everyone’s careers in the future – and thanks again for a year’s worth of great shows!

Review – Death of a Salesman, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 14th June 2017

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They say good things come to those who wait… Originally we had tickets to see this on 13th April, but, as you no doubt are aware gentle reader, everything was cancelled due to the sad and unexpected death of Tim Pigott-Smith, who was to play Willy Loman. I can only admire the tenacity and integrity of the cast and creative team for rescuing the production from the jaws of tragedy and creating such a brilliant phoenix to rise from the ashes of a terrible mixed metaphor on my part. The performance is dedicated to Tim Pigott-Smith, whom I only saw on stage once, ten years ago, playing Henry Higgins in Pygmalion at the Oxford Playhouse and damn good he was too.

I’ve also only seen Death of a Salesman once before, back in 1979 at the National Theatre with Warren Mitchell as Willy Loman. I remember it like it was yesterday, and as you can imagine, Warren Mitchell was all kinds of special. But I do also remember that the production itself was a little iffy; I didn’t believe the characterisations of Biff and Happy at all, and by trying to use up all the large Lyttelton stage, it just all felt a bit thin. No such problem here, with this magnificent production by Abigail Graham, where all Willy’s hopes and aspirations, his past and present relationships with his wife and his sons, his humiliating dismissal by his boss, and his sordid little affair all take place inside a claustrophobic boxed set, which really emphasises what a little person Willy Loman is. The lights may proclaim “Land of the Free”, in homage to Willy’s pursuit of the American Dream, but they have a tendency to short-circuit and fail; and when the Lomans are finally “free” – of their biggest debt of all, the mortgage – Linda’s there to endure it on her own.

Like many others, I read it at school; and judging from the number of (very well-behaved) students in the Royal last night, it’s not going to be leaving the syllabus any time soon. You couldn’t describe it as Arthur Miller’s masterpiece; but it’s a very fine piece of writing nonetheless and in Willy Loman he created a memorable figure of the little cog in the big wheel, who regrettably deludes himself into thinking he’s a much bigger cog. A mass of self-contradictions (“Biff is a lazy bum!” “one thing about Biff – he’s not lazy”); blind to the faults of his beloved older son (indolence, kleptomania, law-breaking); ignoring the approaches of his younger son (“I’m losing weight, you notice, Pop?”); intolerant of his wife Linda’s interjections, biting the hand that feeds him, sucking up to a system that has destroyed him, and living up to the maxim that it isn’t enough to be liked, you have to be well-liked – Willy Loman is one helluva creation.

Older son Biff, too, is a chip off the old block, although both of them would absolutely deny it. A fantasist, chasing the American Dream in his own, more lethargic way, envisioning a world where he and Hap can work together without actually having to work. Whereas Willy would go away for weeks on end selling as hard as he could, Biff would rather get up late and cross his fingers. They all want the trappings of the American Dream, but only Willy spends his life actively trying to achieve it; and largely failing, as all the HP payments on the various household items seem to be in a constant state of arrears. Happy will go along with anything so long as there are girls involved.

If there was ever any doubt that Nicholas Woodeson’s performance as Willy would be under some kind of Tim Pigott-Smith shadow, that doubt is cleared within one nanosecond of Mr Woodeson struggling home from a terrible day at work, through the auditorium, up the stairs, and pausing before walking on to the stage. He immediately grabs our attention and doesn’t let go for the next three hours. Railing against the injustices of the world, this Willy is very realistic, very true-to-life; his flights of fancy and his excursions into reminiscence come across as the early stages of dementia. With the small enclosed set, there’s nowhere for these vivid flashbacks to go other than right in our faces, making them seem even more like reality and less like mere memories. This Willy Loman is visibly captivated by the romance of the American Dream; when his sons outline a possible plan his eyes slowly light up and widen as he grasps the hope it offers with all his mettle. When the grandeur inevitably gives way to the inconsequent, he barks his bitterness furiously like an abused dog. It’s a fantastic performance; very powerful, incredibly moving, totally pathetic (in the best meaning of the word).

Watching George Taylor’s performance as Biff made me realise this was the first time I’d really appreciated quite how damaged the character is. He suffers mental fallout following his unfortunate dropping in on his dad and Miss Francis in a hotel in Boston in a beautifully played scene by Connie Walker, refusing to go anywhere without her new nylons, and Mr Taylor, dumbstruck into almost a coma of confusion. Mr Taylor looks like the great American hope with his football prowess and his Uni of Virginia trainers, but strip a layer of veneer away and he’s just the sad case waiting five hours at Bill Oliver’s office without hope of recognition. Mr Taylor takes you on Biff’s journey of self-realisation; you hope it’s not all self-delusion but when it so obviously is, he makes you appreciate what a straightforward no-hoper Biff is. I thought he was superb.

Tricia Kelly’s Linda is long-suffering, optimistic, and above all, undemanding of any real attention from her husband. When he returns at the beginning of the play, she neither offers nor expects any warmth from him; yet she remains completely loyal to him throughout, in sharp contrast to his affair which we assume she never finds out about. I very much enjoyed her scenes with the sons when she finally starts to bite back at them for their thoughtlessness. Ben Deery is excellent as Happy, always the sidekick in the younger days, now the debonair smoothie setting up the girls for a night on the town. All the minor roles were very well performed, particularly the aforementioned Connie Walker, all barely concealed sexual naughtiness, and Thom Tuck as the self-centred Howard, droning on about his family voice recordings and dismissing Willy without a thought.

A superb production – and a true testament to the idea that the show must go on. It’s halfway through its tour at the moment, with Edinburgh, Truro, Guildford and Oxford still to come. A must-see.

P. S. “So how did he die?” asked Mrs Chrisparkle as we walked home afterwards. “Well, he…” I replied, but then stopped short. I cast my mind back. Actually, how did he die? He seemed to just stop, and drop. Heart attack? Arthur Miller has him driving hell-for-leather into a crash in the goddam Studebaker, but there was none of that here. But somehow it doesn’t matter. You know Willy’s going to die from the moment you first read the first word of the title. That’s no surprise. The production takes the deliberate view that how Willy dies is the least important thing in his story. And I’m rather inclined to agree.

Review – Woyzeck, Old Vic, 10th June 2017

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Of course I knew the play Woyzeck, doesn’t everybody? Famously a fragment left behind by George Büchner on his untimely death at the age of 23 in 1837. Adaptors over the years have made it their own by piecing the remaining bits together and adding an ending to suit their own tastes. The opera by Alban Berg. The film by Werner Herzog. And now Jack Thorne’s dramatic adaptation for the Old Vic… I’m not convincing you, am I? I confess that of course I’d heard of Woyzeck, but that was about the extent of it.

This Woyzeck is a soldier in Berlin in the early 1980s, packed off after an inauspicious spell in Northern Ireland, taking with him his Irish girlfriend Marie and their baby, living in stinking rooms above a butcher’s shop rather in married quarters – they’re not married. His loyal colleague from Northern Ireland, Andrews, is still by his side, screwing everyone he comes into contact with so long as a) they’re female and b) they’re alive. Woyzeck is in desperate need for extra cash so acts as hairdresser/masseur (maybe more?) to Captain Thompson, and subjects himself to medical trials with the creepy Doctor Martens. Woyzeck has PTSD from his Northern Ireland stint but are the medical trials making him worse? And will his relationship with Marie survive his outbursts of fury and violence?

Tom Scutt’s design, which mainly consists of large walls descending from the flies, dominates the stage; and whilst these walls have considerable impact by their own appearance, they detract from the acting space. As a result, the Old Vic’s huge stage is only rarely called upon to contribute; the majority of the scenes take place, cramped, in between or in front of the walls. You may wish to attribute great symbolism to these walls – do they represent military barricades? Are they walls within Woyzeck’s mind? and so on. As Woyzeck begins to fall apart, so do these walls; gashes in their soft surfaces revealing bloody globules of angry brain. Or at least, that’s how I interpreted them.

It is, I think it’s fair to say, a dark play. Apart from Andrews, there’s no one particularly happy with their lot. Woyzeck’s initial optimism falls away as the play develops; Marie’s confidence in Woyzeck steadily declines; Woyzeck fails to adhere to the strict rules of the medical trial, much to the doctor’s fury. Relationships are strained; security is threatened. There’s no obvious rescue position at the end of the play that looks to the future; no Fortinbras coming in to save us all. No matter how much you might enjoy the performances, at the end of the play you feel as though you’ve had a thoroughly hard time and you’ll need to rush outside and get some fresh air.

John Boyega plays Woyzeck; you, gentle reader, of course know who he is, but I didn’t have a clue as I don’t watch Star Wars. He cuts an impressive figure and is very convincing as a tormented brain, which is largely what he has to portray after the interval. I liked his light-hearted but sexually charged banter with Marie, and his scenes with Andrews, although I found his interaction with the other characters slightly less convincing. Sarah Greene is superb as Marie, spirited in her dealings with Woyzeck, a little reserved and somewhat humiliated with other characters. However, the two of them together created an unlikely partnership for the times and in many ways, it wasn’t entirely believable. Ben Batt and Nancy Carroll steal the show; he as the irrepressible and ever perky Andrews, and she as the flirtatious and snobby Maggie, inquiring after the collection boxes she has entrusted to the embarrassed Marie whilst Andrews finishes off pounding her from behind. Marvellously confident performances both.

For me this was a distinct curate’s egg of a production. Despite some good individual performances, some scenes did not gel and the descent into madness at the end wasn’t so much emotionally exhausting as straightforward tiring. There’s no doubt the play amply portrays the horror that can overtake a soldier; but I also felt a little injection of subtlety could have invested it with much more power, resulting in its offering much more entertainment. It’s on until 24th June.

Review – The Philanthropist, Trafalgar Studios, 3rd June 2017

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I remember seeing the theatre listings in my early teens and noticing The Philanthropist on in the West End and thinking, “what an interesting title. I must look it up.” I can’t remember if I did; I doubt if I’d have been much the wiser. Nevertheless, the lure of this play stayed with me and it was one of the first batch of play texts that I was given as a present from the Dowager Mrs Chrisparkle for Christmas 1975. How much of it I fully understood, is questionable. However, I really loved it – particularly that coup de theatre of a first scene, which I note still draws a huge gasp of breath and uncomfortable nervous laughter throughout the subsequent scene change. Ever since, I’ve always wanted to see a production so that I could judge it for myself. And it’s taken forty-two years for me to achieve it!

So, having booked it as soon as it went on sale, imagine my disappointment after it opened and the word got around that it was terrible. One four-star review from the Daily Telegraph; but a distinct handful of one-star reviews almost made me rue my initial enthusiasm. I’d booked for halfway through the run and I rather expected it to have closed before my chance came around. But no, it’s still going; and judging from Saturday’s matinee performance, business isn’t too bad, and the production itself is extremely enjoyable!

Christopher Hampton called it a “bourgeois comedy” with a cheeky nod to the Royal Court, that left-wing palace of the avant-garde, where the original production was staged. It’s also a nod to Molière, whose influence on modern theatre simply won’t go away, with Don Juan in Soho still at Wyndham’s (just), and The Miser having just left the Garrick. One of Molière’s masterpieces is Le Misanthrope, a comedy of manners where the central character rejects the conventions of the day and refuses to see the good in people, and just criticises and complains at everything and everyone with whom he comes into contact. Alceste, the Misanthrope, is the exact reverse of Philip in The Philanthropist, who always sees the good in everything and finds it impossible to criticise. That’s why he can’t lecture in English Literature, only in philology.

The play follows the fortune of Philip over a tense few days as he and his colleague Don listen to a keen young playwright read through his script, with disastrous consequences; and then a few days later as Philip and his fiancée Celia host a dinner party spoiled by some awful guests. Life will never be the same and there are some hard questions to be answered the morning after the night before. Can Philip square the circle and carry on? You’ll have to watch it to find out.

What I always loved about this play is its intelligent script; maybe today it’s a little show-offy but that probably appealed to the 15-year-old me. As Mrs Chrisparkle and I were watching it I realised (and she recognised) that it contains many of my favourite little quotes with which I have peppered my day to day conversations over the intervening decades: “it’s far more important for a theory to be shapely than for it to be true”; “Now perhaps you’ll oblige us with a fart”; “Darling, I hope you’re not going to be bourgeois about this, but I’m going to leave you and the children for a few months.” The 23-year-old Christopher Hampton had a truly sparkling turn of phrase that I have always relished.

The play was written in 1970 and it’s firmly staying there, but I enjoyed the 70s clothing and other contemporary staging details; and talk of the Prime Minister and the front bench being mown down in an assassination attack is more relevant today, although probably less funny. The character types are still eminently recognisable; there’ll always be characters like Philip: well-meaning, inept, too cerebral for their own good; not bad at friendships but hopeless in love; measuring out their lives with coffee spoons, like Prufrock. There’ll always be characters like Braham too; full of conceited, empty swagger, complacent in their ability to turn a nifty phrase, who will ride roughshod over others’ feelings and relationships, simply because he can.

Simon Callow’s production seems very faithful to the original stage directions, with even the same choice of music to bridge the gap between scenes. He’s definitely letting the script do the talking. He has accumulated a cast of young TV actors, which will no doubt help put bums on seats, although I’ve never seen any of the shows they are in, so I didn’t know any of them from Adam. I thought Simon Bird was excellent as Philip, really conveying the character’s total uselessness and sheer lack of harmfulness. He allows himself the time to wallow in some superb crushed facial expressions and lines, and I felt sorry for him just as much as I laughed at him.

Charlotte Ritchie is also extremely good as Celia; no nonsense with her public criticisms of Philip, her cut glass sideswipes really hitting home. As her character develops you get a strong sense of her own inner dilemmas, and how hard it is for her to come to a conclusion as to what to do; I thought she was very impressive. And we both really liked Lily Cole as Araminta, provocatively reclining so as to make the maximum impression on Philip; notching up another number on the bedpost for no reason other than her own weakness, even though she gains no benefit from it.

It’s a very enjoyable production of Christopher Hampton’s first big success, and it’s really interesting to see it full of life all these years later. I’m very glad to have finally seen it! It’s on until 22nd July.

P. S. When I booked, the Trafalgar Studios was still part of the ATG theatre group. Today, however, they are the first procurement of the new TEG – Trafalgar Entertainment Group – run by Sir Howard Panter and Rosemary Squire – who were the chief execs of the ATG group. Such are the ways of big business. The downside is that your ATG membership card will no longer get you 10% off at the bar. The good news is that they’ve really spiced up the bar experience and I can definitely recommend a bottle of the Verdejo to accompany your theatregoing!

Review – Julius Caesar, Crucible Theatre, Sheffield, 27th May 2017

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Julius Caesar was the first Shakespeare play I studied at school. I expect that was true for a number of people. It’s a superb introduction to Shakespeare because it’s very accessible, it’s got loads of everyday phrases that it’s fun to recognise, it helps you with your Latin History; and it’s got some famous characters, and a ghost, and a soothsayer, and a baying mob, and lots and lots of deaths. What more could a fifteen-year-old schoolboy want?

Much to my own irritation, I’ve had to wait all these years to see it on stage. For years it seemed like no one would touch it with an SPQR standard, and now suddenly everyone’s doing it. The RSC are staging it this summer; I’ve already got tickets to see the new version at the new Bridge Theatre in London next February, and now it’s popped up at one of my favourite theatres, the Sheffield Crucible. So I was really keen to see this new production.

I’m sure you know the story; in brief, Julius Caesar is in charge of Rome, a noble man but a bighead, who likes nothing more than to strut his stuff and let the power go to his head. Around him are several politicians whom he believes are all loyal, but insurrection is brewing. Cassius (who has a lean and hungry look) is assembling allies to do away with Caesar For The Good Of Rome and nothing whatever to do with their own personal fortune, of course. Many sign up, but the big name they want is Brutus, and Brutus is an honourable man. Nevertheless, Cassius convinces him to join the merry band of murderers and assassinate Caesar on the Ides of March (nasty). But no one has really taken into account Caesar’s pal Mark Anthony, and how he will react to the dirty deed… which is with mob-altering oratory.

In these days of political intrigue, elections, referendums, Brexit, and what have you, this play seems more relevant than ever. In the UK, with so many of the political parties now led by women and with women in some of our highest governmental positions, it seems a good idea for some of Caesar’s male associates to be played by women: Casca, Metellus Cimber, Trebonius, Popilius, as well as one of the post-Caesar triumvirate, Octavius Caesar. And, of course, Cassius, who thinks too much. These gender changes not only add an additional level of sexual intrigue (just how friendly are Cassius and Brutus?) but they also really help to modernise the story, and, coupled with Ben Stones’ modern staging, this is very much a Julius Caesar for the 21st century.

When you enter the Crucible auditorium, for a split second you think you’ve come at the wrong time and they’ve laid the stage out for the snooker championships. But no, that’s not a snooker table, but a fine old board table, suitable for grand dining, or devious conspiracy. And the knives laid out upon it are more for cutting a Consul than slicing a steak. This adds an instant inevitability to the whole thing. As soon as you see Cassius and her friends observing Caesar’s showbizzy entrance with distaste, you know his number’s up. The other knock-out design feature is how the front row of the theatre has been converted into UN-style governmental seating, with a phone, a mic, a lamp, a writing pad and a plush chair at every station. This then perfectly represents the Senate House when Caesar deigns to call and pontificate; and just as Caesar thinks he’s as constant as the northern star, he’s dead for a ducat (wrong play, sorry). The sight of all the senators dipping their hands in Caesar’s blood is gruesomely effective, because today we only think of that phrase being figurative, not literal. Other visual highlights include Mark Anthony grabbing the dead Caesar from out of his coffin and the mob tearing the meek and mild Cinna the Poet to death. Never was anyone more in the wrong place at the wrong time.

New Artistic Director of the Crucible, Robert Hastie has really set the bar high with this, his first Sheffield production. The staging is stirring and on a grand scale, using parts of the Crucible that you never knew existed, like the balcony above the stage, or the removed Row E from the seats. The splendid vision for the play deserves some excellent performances and fortunately, this is what it gets. Jonathan Hyde’s Caesar is proud and vain (but not excessively so), mature and a little world-weary; I particularly enjoyed his scene with Calpurnia when she was trying to prevent him from attending the Senate and so at first he declines the invitation to go and get murdered but when he is convinced to do so by Cinna he mockingly turns on Calpurnia for fussing so much. It was like a little snapshot into a private domestic tiff. But she was right. Mr Hyde also turns in a very chilling performance as the ghost.

The splendid Samuel West is a very thoughtful and dignified Brutus, quietly listening and weighing up all the evidence; not vacillating as I am sure the role might sometimes be played. Once he has decided to join with the conspirators he is as gung-ho about the project as anyone, but he still retains his innate honourable status. Even more gripping, Zoe Waites makes a fantastic Cassius; edgy, pushy, manipulative; with an eye for the main chance and not afraid to back track when she’s in trouble. She has a terrific stage presence and a voice that rings out in the darkest depths of the rear stalls. And Eliot Cowan is a magnificent Mark Antony, switching from lager lout in his first scenes with Caesar, through the great oratory scene where he brings the mob on his side by manipulating their emotions as the King of Rhetoric, to his triumvirate appearance where he’s more militant than Labour in the early 80s. All the other roles are played powerfully and intelligently – there’s not a weak spot anywhere. Members of the SheffieldPeople’s Theatre act as the mob and a fantastic job they do of it.

I really loved this production – it was everything I hoped it would be; relevant, exciting, memorable, and brought superbly up to date with its staging and casting. Congratulations to everyone involved!

Review – Dispensable, March Theatre Company, University of Northampton Flash Festival, Hazelrigg House, Northampton, 26th May 2017

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The soldier: the man on whom everyone relies; his fighting colleagues, his Generals and Field Marshals, his countrymen. The man whom we expect, as a nation, to lay down his life for us if need be. The man who, when he comes home, may face many forms of hardship, both financial and mental. And although the nature of warfare may change over the decades and the centuries, the individual experience of the soldier up close to the fighting remains the same – the ultimate test of strength, will, self-belief, cunning, and sheer brassneck.

I’m aware that I’ve described my impression of a soldier at war in purely masculine terms; that’s not to decry female soldiers, it’s just that Dispensable is Ruark Gould’s one-man play and therefore depicts the soldier as a man. He is a man of the past, the present and the future; and this play unites all three to convey just some of the emotions and experiences they have to endure.

In the tiny vault in the basement at Hazlerigg House, the audience sat in two rows, traverse style, as we watched the soldier in his natural environment. It could be a dug-out, a cave, an underground office; the acting space and the performance really complemented each other, and Mr Gould made exceptional use of it to play out the characters’ frustrations, agonies, exercises, and indeed, deaths. Our imagination had to do a lot of the work, but it certainly paid off.

An intriguing performance, with a fascinating music choice to reflect soldiers of all the ages. Technically, I admired Mr Gould’s weapon handling – although I expect if he’d held the butt of his rifle it would have literally gone through the roof. I also appreciated the excellent clarity of his vocal delivery – I don’t always hear everything (getting on, I guess!) so it’s great to be able to relish every word. Structurally, I felt there were a lot of very short scenes, and maybe the audience would have felt even more involved with fewer, longer scenes, just so that they have time to identify with the soldier and the situation he’s facing. Just a small quibble. But overall, I thought it was fascinating, thought-provoking, and very well performed.

P. S. I saw this show on Friday afternoon, 26th May and it was the last Flash Festival show for me this year – I saw all fifteen! Thanks to everyone who worked their hardest to make it a success, from the organisers to the performers, the techies and everyone behind the scenes. It was an amazing four days and I saw some superb talent. Best of luck to everyone for your future careers!

Review – Click Here, Stern Mystics Theatre Company, University of Northampton Flash Festival, St Peter’s Church, Northampton, 26th May 2017

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A Parkinsons’ sufferer is drawn into crime against his better judgment simply to receive a drug to alleviate his symptoms; a young loafer is forced to work against his will for his philandering prospective brother-in-law; a neo-Nazi blogger is willingly interviewed about his beliefs, but his own life experience makes him change his opinion. These three separate strands weave together in a play that challenges perceptions of what’s right and what’s wrong, and asks, how far down the line will you go to do the wrong thing in the pursuit of the right?

I have a theory that all the best works of art, literature, and so on are those where the writer/artist didn’t know where it was going to end up and let his characters decide for him. I got the feeling, as this play progressed, that this was the case with this play. I think perhaps it started with the theme of somehow exploring the dark web and its uses/users but the characters and their relationships were strong and very realistic, and I can imagine they really took control and moved the story on to a very different final place. Whether I got that right or not, I really enjoyed the journey that these actors and their characters took us on; it was fascinating to see which characters would gain redemption, which would be punished for their ills, which would get off scot-free, and so on. I found it really engrossing, and didn’t want it to end.

Tom Garland gave us a very credible characterisation of the decent, if a bit lazy, young man who ends up working for his brother-in-law-to-be only to find out that the latter drops his trousers at the first sight of skirt; but who is basically blackmailed into keeping quiet about it – not that his cantankerous father would believe him anyway. He’s a very good example of someone who is almost too decent for their own good. He also took perhaps the least interesting role, that of the journalist interviewing the neo-Nazi, but maybe it was his straightforward, open nature that allowed his interview subject to open up so honestly.

Matt Kitson was excellent as the Nazi – spouting off offensive words as though they were mere platitudes – which certainly sounded uncomfortable in the church – whilst still being exceedingly polite and mild-mannered; that characterisation was a really interesting concept. I enjoyed seeing him going through his self-questioning phase, and found his final incarnation, partying with his new eastern European friend to the beat of Polski Pop, both believable and really endearing! He also did an excellent job as the Parkinson’s sufferer’s mate; the opening scene where he is trying to be supportive, despite being rejected by his friend, due to the friend’s own frustrations and anger, was totally credible and indeed I recognised myself in the same situation in the past. A very good performance.

Perhaps strongest of all was Chris Drew, as the guy with Parkinson’s, adopting the symptoms with true accuracy, expressing his irritation and resentment at what the disease has done to him. I loved the way he took us through the character’s trials and tribulations and how we all came out on the other side together. He was also excellent as the volatile father, refusing to listen to sense, and also in the minor roles of the Office Supervisor and the Polish Pal. For each role he adopted a clearly different voice and accent and they’re all superb.

Definitely one of the most absorbing plays in the Festival, combined with three excellent performances. Perhaps this could be developed more and maybe have a new life in the future? I would hope so!

Review – Exposure, Imagine That Theatre Company, University of Northampton Flash Festival, St Peter’s Church, Northampton, 25th May 2017

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Imagine That Theatre Company present The Picture of Dorian Gray in the style of the Mischief Theatre Company presenting The Play That Goes Wrong. It’s the age-old story of the picture in the attic that gets witheringly older whilst the dashing Dorian remains his old handsome self. I too am practising this art; sadly, both me and my portrait are ageing visibly so something’s going wrong. Not as much that goes wrong with the Imagine That Theatre Company’s version, of course.

Unlike every other production in the Flash Festival, with the possible exception of The Time Travel Tour, this is the only one that has no pretence to anything serious whatsoever. No sirree. This is played purely for laughs, which is much harder than it looks. Frequently humour emerges organically out of serious subject matter. But to make your audience laugh at what is almost exclusively slapstick or the ridiculous is a tough call, and to write the perfect slapstick vehicle for these five talented actors would probably take ten times as much effort and time than they probably had all year. So, inevitably the play was a little patchy, with some sequences that were genuinely hilarious and some that were borderline tiresome.

So I’m going to dwell on all the good things! The largely improvised (at least I think it was) opening scene with Lewis Hodson and Lee Hancock as Roger and Colin looking for each other was absolutely brilliant. Mr Hodson has a wonderful po-faced expression that can take on so many different meanings with just a twitch of an eyebrow – a real gift that he used to excellent advantage. How can just idly repositioning the flats and then accidentally screaming at the unexpected sight of an audience be so funny? He makes it so. Lee Hancock too, listens out for a tiny giggle from the audience and then bounds over to them with the biggest intimidating glare to stop them from laughing – so they laugh more, much to his growing fury. Messrs Hodson and Hancock aimlessly chased each other all round the set for ages – probably about ten minutes; totally pointless, absolutely hysterical.

Other good things: I really enjoyed the overall performance of Lauren Scott as she flipped from being the stern Dorian Gray (think Gabrielle Glaister as Bob in Blackadder II) to being herself (or at least the actor playing herself playing Gray. I think.) She was all roister-doister one minute and girly-pearly the next; very nicely done. I also liked the on-off relationship between her and narrator/boss Hans Oldham (or the actor playing Hans Oldham… you get the picture) – including a very nice moment when he’d pushed his luck too far and she wasn’t having any of it. I enjoyed Ben Barton’s performance as the easily hurt and not-very-good stand-in actor from the Local Actor’s Society; his splendidly vacant expression smeared with half-on/half-off lipstick is the stuff of nightmares.

The performance was clearly inspired by the group’s visit to The Play That Goes Wrong, and maybe the whole thing lost a little originality as a consequence. Don’t get me wrong, there was a lot of content in here – comedy idea after comedy idea meant there was possibly too much; the phrase less is more occasionally came into my mind. There was one repeated gag that really got on my nerves, and the whole thing could have done with a punchier ending. However, there’s no doubting it was very funny, the very likeable cast worked their socks off to please us and it was met with virtually maniacal laughter from the audience. This was a hard job but they did it well, and you can’t look back on it without a big smile on your face.

Review – The Powers That Be, Tangled Spines Theatre Company, University of Northampton Flash Festival, St Peter’s Church, Northampton, 25th May 2017

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I’d never heard of Luke Rhinehart’s best-selling book The Dice Man – so I came to Tangled Spines’ homage to the story without any preconceptions. To live one’s life purely by chance is a most terrifying thing, as Rhinehart’s self-named lead character does; and creates some appalling outcomes that make your flesh crawl. After an initial (and highly entertaining) dance/movement sequence that previews the first part of the story, one of the first things we see Steven Croydon’s Luke Rhinehart do is his to throw the dice to determine whether he will rape his mistress. The die is cast; he notes the result (he doesn’t tell the audience); and the next thing you know he’s calmly and coolly admitting to his victim that he’s going to rape her. She doesn’t appear to object. In real life, this would all be unspeakably appalling; in the context of a theatrical presentation, it’s chillingly fascinating.

As the story develops, you realise Rhinehart is up to his neck in it – and he always seeks the solution by rolling the dice. He ruins his marriage, he endangers his son, he destroys relationships and he commits a helluva lot of crime. Rhinehart’s addiction to the dice becomes his own religious mania, and also shown to be the complete opposite of faith; and I enjoyed the symbolism of Mr Croydon adopting a crucifixion pose lying on the ground. However, I confess I didn’tunderstand the relevance of the quotes at the beginning of the show from T S Eliot’s Burnt Norton – maybe that’s in Rhinehart’s original.

Mr Croydon’s subtle and rather subversive performance gives you a fascinating insight into Rhinehart’s soul and how black it looks there, sneakily checking the dice in his hand behind his wife’s back, always having the aces up his sleeve; quietly but firmly refusing to give a damn for anyone, including himself. Jack James gives a dynamic performance as his hearty friend and colleague (without a programme I can’t remember the characters’ names, sorry!) and he also transformed brilliantly into his mischievous but very trusting son. Jennifer Wyndham was excellent as the two abused women in Rhinehart’s life – his wife and his mistress – coping admirably with the physicality of the performance whilst being on crutches “in real life” – a great advertisement for The Show Must Go On.

Fast paced, exciting to watch, and compellingly staged in traverse to heighten our involvement; three excellent performances and an intriguing play to keep us enthralled throughout the whole hour. One of the highlights of this year’s Flash Festival.

Review – La Strada, Lyceum Theatre, Sheffield, 27th May 2017

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How come I’d never heard of Fellini’s film La Strada? According to Wikipedia, so it must be true, it has become “one of the most influential films ever made”, according to the American Film Institute. It won the inaugural Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film in 1957 and it was placed fourth in the 1992 British Film Institute directors’ list of cinema’s top 10 films. And I’ve never heard of it.

I’m wondering if I’m not alone in this ignorance, because I understand this touring production has been blighted by very poor audiences wherever it goes, and for last Saturday’s matinee at the vast Lyceum theatre in Sheffield, we were two among – I would guess – about 60 people? At least it meant no queue at the bar. I’m also guessing that the majority of that 60 were definitely fans of the film as they had no hesitation in giving it a standing ovation come curtain call time, so the production is definitely doing something right.

But I confess, I had no real interest in seeing it beyond mild curiosity, apart from the fact that I wanted to go to Sheffield to see Julius Caesar (of which, more soon) and I always like to pack two shows into a Sheffield Saturday if possible. I had, however, seen that it had received some good reviews; so, we defaulted into seeing La Strada.

It’s a simple story. A gullible girl is sold by her impoverished mother to a circus strongman named Zampano for 10,000 lire, and she goes on the road with him as his personal assitant, ostensibly to help him with his act. But he is a bully, is well known for getting into scrapes wherever he goes, and frequently will inflict corporal punishment on the girl for not obeying or supporting him. Along the way they meet another street entertainer/circus type Il Matto (the Fool). He’s kind to the girl, but obviously has some unfinished history with Zampano, and he does whatever he can to ridicule or discredit the old beast. Can the three of them all get along together, or will one of them crack under the pressure?

It’s a smart looking production, with a busy set and effective costumes by Katie Sykes; it also sounds great, with the musical instruments being played by the majority of the on-stage performers; and there are even some circus tricks to appreciate. Whilst cradling our interval Sauvignon Blancs, Bart Soroczynski (playing Il Matto) nipped into the bar with his accordion and had a chat to everyone, which was a nice touch. Mr Soroczynski cuts a very good fool; one of those very sorrowful looking clowns for whom life never seems to have much going for it – nevertheless they struggle on. He blends very well into the stylised background for this show – which is an overwhelming air of sadness, of resignation, of expectation of doom. In the other major roles, Stuart Goodwin certainly looks the part as the bully strongman Zampano, and Audrey Brisson is charmingly naïve as Gelsomina the girl, and she plays a mean trumpet.

But right from the start it all felt very introverted, almost as though one were stumbling upon someone else’s private grief, and you were just an intruding onlooker and not a participant. One of the problems with the show that we found was that neither Mrs Chrisparkle nor I cared two hoots about what would happen to the protagonists. And I think that’s at least in part because, for whatever reason, we did not get under the characters’ skins. If Miss Brisson was meant to tear at our heartstrings with her vulnerability and purity, it didn’t happen; if Mr Goodwin was meant to menace us with his swagger and intimidation, that didn’t happen either. And I certainly didn’t believe any sense of regret from Mr Goodwin at the end, despite his wailings.

In short, it was all just a bit bland; generally well performed but not exactly interesting. The second half is massively more entertaining than the first, so if you make it to the interval, do stay till the end. The show left us totally unmoved and totally unrewarded; but I can imagine if you’re a fan of the film, it will be a whole lot more fascinating to you than it was to us. It’s now finished its UK tour but is playing at the new Other Palace Theatre in Victoria until 8th July.

P. S. The programme advises that the show’s running time is 2 hrs 15 minutes. However, our show came in at a much niftier 1 hr 50 minutes. I can only assume that they’ve excised a big chunk out of it during the course of the run; to which I say, very good call.