Category Archives: Theatre

Review – The Massive Tragedy of Madame Bovary! – Peepolykus, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 11th May 2016

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You just know that when an adaptation of Madame Bovary includes the words Massive Tragedy and ends with an exclamation mark that the original Flaubert is not going to be taken too seriously. In fact, the cast conducted a straw poll near the beginning of the show to find out how many of us in the audience had actually read the original book. I couldn’t see anyone put up their hand, so I don’t think any of us were going to be purists.

I’ve not seen Peepolykus before but I have the feeling that the concept of purist isn’t something they would often take into account when devising a show. Four actors about play 25 roles; or alternatively, four actors are just themselves; when the programme says Javier Marzan plays “Javier Marzan” and Jonathan Holmes plays “Jonathan Holmes”, you might wonder if the £2.50 purchase price – relatively cheap though it may be – was worth it. The programme isn’t half as surreal and another-planet-like as the show though. There hasn’t been so much onstage shenanigans, addressing the audience directly and seemingly ignoring the play since Eric Sykes and Jimmy Edwards did Big Bad Mouse. And that was a very long time ago.

Mme Bovary is the archetypal village dweller who longs for the excitement of the bright lights of the glamorous city. She’s married to the kindly but passionless – and highly gullible – M. le docteur Bovary, and is always on the lookout for a bit of extra-marital how’s your father. I’m very sorry if I’m giving the wrong impression here – it’s what Emma Fielding, playing Emma Fielding, playing Emma Bovary, would say was the typical viewpoint of someone with a penis. Emma sees the role as being one of independence, of emancipation, of sisterhood struggle, of identity affirmation. But we all know she’s just sex mad, obvs.

Conor Murphy has designed a fantastic set, comprising of a number of sliding blackboard panels, where the scene is set by a cast member simply writing with chalk to explain the location, like “Yonville”, “Town Hall”, or drawing a gramophone to create music. 1856 was the year that Madame Bovary was published – so that’s an extraordinarily advanced gramophone for its era; I can imagine the company depicting Victoria listening to surround sound stereo through her noise-cancelling headphones. Concealed cubby holes reveal props, minor characters, and other rooms with a great sense of inventiveness and quirky humour. From where we were sitting in row C of the stalls, we could see that there were a number of large props high up in the air ready to be dropped into place. They piqued our curiosity as to how they would be used. A huge round chandelier swooped to the floor and doubled up as an amazing ball gown. For the agricultural fair, a flying pig loitered mid-air and an enormous rooster descended to the ground (or at least near it), stayed around for a minute or so, and then flew back up. All that effort for so little effect; never has such a big cock been so underutilised on stage.

Javier Marzan and John Nicholson have done a great job in adapting the book into this irreverent yet strangely touching stage version. Yes, it’s full of asides and nods and winks, apparently unscripted chats to the audience, even a pretend feedback session at the interval where Javier’s magic act wins the honour of being performed again. But the element of personal tragedy within the story still comes to the fore and without knowing the original story, it’s very hard to say where Flaubert ends and Peepolykus begins. We know the opening ratcatchers aren’t in the original because we are told so; but as the show progresses, all the lines between the source and the end product are delightfully blurred. I loved John Nicholson’s stupendously credulous Charles Bovary, innocently enabling Emma to have it away with the arrogant Rodolphe, a rakish performance by Javier Marzan. Jonathan Holmes’ “everything else” is a complete tour de force, rushing in and out of doors and coming back as different characters like Arturo Brachetti in a Feydeau farce. And Emma Fielding, playing Emma Fielding, playing Emma Bovary gives a really strong and character driven performance throughout – or at least until she starts playing herself.

Confused? I’m not surprised. You’ll just have to see the show to appreciate just how well it all slots together. A very funny and rewarding night – on at the Royal and Derngate, Northampton until the end of the week. That’s the end of the current tour but it may well crop up again soon in a theatre close to you. Wholeheartedly recommended!

Review – An Enemy of the People, Chichester Festival Theatre, 7th May 2016

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After a much needed afternoon nap, Mrs Chrisparkle, Professor and Mrs Plum and I wandered back to the Festival theatre for our evening main event. Of course I had heard of An Enemy of the People, but I had never seen it before. Nor had I read it. I have three volumes of Ibsen from my teenage years and it doesn’t appear in any of them. In fact, I’ve only seen Ibsen three times – each one a Hedda Gabler. That doesn’t say much for the variety of contemporary approach to Ibsen, does it?

Rather like Barker’s Waste that we saw last Christmas, An Enemy of the People is still enormously relevant to today’s audience even though it was written way back in 1882. In a little Norwegian spa town, whose wealth comes almost exclusively from tourists flocking to take the waters at the town’s baths, local doctor Tomas Stockmann has discovered that the water there is in fact riddled with bacteria and could do terrible damage to anyone in contact with it. The only safe solution is to close the baths down and have the water source safely reconstructed. The Mayor, an arrogant, pompous man who happens to be Dr Stockmann’s brother, and who pours scorn on his attitudes and activities whenever the opportunity arises, demands that the doctor withdraw his report because the cost of repairing the baths would be extortionate. Will the townspeople agree with the doctor that health and safety must come first, or with the Mayor that their taxes should be protected? Aye, there’s the rub. Although it startswith issues of how to deal with whistle-blowers, and the rights and wrongs of public funding, the argument moves on to discuss themes of intellectual superiority, loyalty, and self-sacrifice. It’s a very meaty, satisfying play, which really gets you involved, challenging one’s own sense of justice, and making oneself ask the question, what would you do in Stockmann’s shoes? I make no bones about it, I found the play absolutely riveting.

It’s a perfect production for the Festival stage, with Tim Hatley’s gloomy but not austere set creating a very believable, moderately grand house for Dr Stockmann, with an ever-stocked dining room and homely soft furnishings; which transforms superbly to the offices of the local newspaper and even more so to the house after it has undergone some changes at the end. Howard Davies’ direction is clear and pacey, and by the interval I was buzzing with excitement to see how the situation would resolve itself. The remarkable fourth act (being Ibsen it’s a five act play) where Stockmann speaks at a public meeting had me literally open-mouthed in awe. Cast members filled the auditorium, lining up the steps, shouting back to the stage, whilst others sat in seats in front of the audience, themselves watching what was happening on stage. I thought it was astounding.I ended up shouting at the stage too, even though Mrs C had to remind me it wasn’t actually a pantomime. I was jealous of people sat at the end of the row, because they were handed copies of the Mayor’s wicked statement and I just wanted to shove it back in their face saying it was rubbish. On reflection, maybe it was just as well I wasn’t sat there. After the high drama of the fourth act, when the final set emerged reflecting the sadness and defeat of Tomas and his household, I actually let out an involuntary cry of sympathy. That’s how much the stagecraft of the whole production took me along with it, making me acutely sensitive to the Stockmanns’ plight. Even before considering the performances, the combination of play and production had me on the edge of my seat. I absolutely loved it.

From a popular culture point of view, they’ve rolled out the big guns in the form of Hugh Bonneville in the part of Dr. Stockmann. Apparently this is Mr Bonneville’s first stage role in twelve years, and no doubt a sizeable number of the audiences will be there to see Lord Grantham in the flesh. (They may recognise another member of the Downton cast as well – under-sub-minor-footman Andy, played by Michael Fox.) I’d certainly never seen Mr B on stage before, and I was most impressed. He’s certainly one of those actors who looks and feels so comfortable on the stage, who is technically so reliable, and whom you look forward to their next entrance. I really enjoyed the way he captured all of the good doctor’s different aspects: the integrity, the family man, the self-appointed hero, the smugness, the misplaced vanity, the devastation. It was all there.

He is matched in snide villainy by William Gaminara playing his brother Peter, the mayor. We saw Mr Gaminara in the extraordinary The Body of an American in Northampton a couple of years ago and he is a very fine actor. His totally credible characterisation of the measly mayor, thin in spirit and generosity, was really striking, and I spent most of the play wanting to throw things at him, he annoyed me so much. There’s a really strong supporting performance from Abigail Cruttenden as Tomas’ wife, wrestling with the opposing desire and obligation to support her husband but also to make him see sense and not cut off the entire family’s security. Adam James plays newspaper editor Hovstad as keen as mustard to screw the mayor once and for all, with Michael Fox as his supporting sidekick vindictively adding his “bloody right”s, only for them to turn cowardly when it comes to the crunch – which was dramatically highly effective. For me the best supporting performance of the night was from Jonathan Cullen -whom I remember as a magnificent student actor when we were at Oxford – as the wheedling Aslaksen, who turns coat at the whiff of an extra penny in the tax and becomes a paragon of parsimony. Finally, hats off also to young actors Alfie Scott and Jack Taylor, as Dr Stockmann’s sons Ejlif and Morten, who stayed completely in character throughout,and whose appalled reactions, from sitting out in the audience and looking back at the stage when their father was being roundly abused by the town, were genuinely agonising to watch.

I appreciate that if I had seen other productions of this play before – McKellen at the National has been brought to my attention – I might not have been quite so blown away by this one. But I hadn’t. And I was. It’s on until 21st May, and I would urge you to see it at once!

Review – Travels with my Aunt, Minerva Theatre Chichester, 7th May 2016

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A spot of late Spring sunshine was just the perfect welcome as we arrived in Chichester for the first of this year’s two theatrical weekends Sussex-style. We were joined, in their inaugural visit to the Chichester Festival Theatre, by Mrs Chrisparkle’s aunt and uncle, Professor and Mrs Plum. Naturally, we started with a swish lunch in the Minerva Brasserie – one simply just has to, you know. I’m delighted to say that both the brasserie and the bar and grill upstairs have had something of a facelift since we last visited and they both look fantastico.

Travels with my Aunt – which was our matinee treat – is of course originally a novel by Graham Greene, but we have seen a wonderful play adaptation at the Royal and Derngate back in 2010, and now there’s this new version, reincarnated as a musical, with book by Ron Cowen and Daniel Lipman, music by George Stiles and lyrics by Anthony Drewe. The story consists of a huge amount of daftness – this is it in a nutshell: Henry Pulling is an old-before-his-time gentleman who has devoted his life to growing dahlias. Aunt Augusta is his septuagenarian aunt who acts half her age, was a prostitute in her youth and even today runs all around the world doing shady deals. She has a much younger lover – Wordsworth – from Sierra Leone, but is also selling everything to pay off the ransom for the true love of her life, Mr Visconti; and this is where she enlists Henry’s help. Henry travels with her, round Europe and South America, on the search for this mysterious man, unwillingly encountering adventures on the way. They find the human dynamo that is Visconti; and all this excitement eventually rubs off on Henry, who, much to his surprise, finds out that survival by illegal import/export trade based in Paraguay has more flair to it as a lifestyle than daily dahlia-tending.

As you take your seats, Colin Falconer’s set beautifully recreates a 1969 railway station, complete with swanky lit destination signs just like they used to have at Baker St station (maybe they still do?), dingy waiting room, comfortless wooden benches, a ticket collector’s booth, and many other late 60s railway reminders. With a little movement and relighting, the waiting room turns into many other indoor scenes such as Augusta’s flat, a pub, and a compartment on the Orient Express. The costumes are perfect for that 1969 vibe, with Tooley wonderfully decked out as a pot-smoking hippie, the girls in the ensemble as bright blue stewardesses straight out of Boeing Boeing, and Wordsworth in relaxed splendour in the style of a Rhythm of Life dancer from Sweet Charity.

The show opens with a couple of terrific scenes: Henry, on the point of being executed, comes out of character and addresses the audience in a matter of fact style, and, with his delightfully upper crust accent, instantly creates a surreal atmosphere of quirky comedy. We then see the railway station transformed into a chapel for Henry’s mother’s funeral, which is where we meet Aunt Agatha, who sings a hilariously disrespectful song to the effect that life’s too short to waste time saying goodbye to the dead. It’s a really positive start to the show. But then something rather odd happens for the next quarter of an hour or so. It all seemed to lose energy, it got bogged down in exposition, and it felt a bit twee. I had thought that, as it is a rather bizarre story, one might expect the artificiality of the musical genre to work well with it. But it appeared that it was just going to become bland.

Fortunately, I was wrong! Before long there is a scene where the ensemble are sweetly dancing to a jolly song with cutesy lyrics but in the middle of the stage sits Aunt Augusta, the amount of her ransom money found wanting, getting physically assaulted by the scum of a lowlife who’s demanding the cash. That really uncomfortable juxtaposition between the musical matinee sweetness and the physical violence really pulled me up short. Perhaps this isn’t going to be as Women’s Institute-like as it first appeared? Indeed it isn’t. Once it really gets going, the show uses the musical format to excellent purpose, playing up the surreal and frequently questionable nature of the subject matter, like sugar sorbet icing on bitter aloes. The tunes are fun, the lyrics witty, and the performances are extremely good.

Aunt Augusta is played by the brilliantly no-nonsense Patricia Hodge, and you couldn’t find a more suitable pair of hands to play this unpredictable and exuberant character. She shows that she still has an excellent singing voice, great comic timing, and a terrific aura of dignity about her. In many ways she is perfect casting, as Augusta is meant to be in her 70s but acting much younger; well Miss Hodge isn’t quite in her 70s yet but certainly behaves like a flirtatious girl, which is just what you want from the character. A most enjoyable performance.

But at the heart of this production is the fantastic portrayal of Henry by Steven Pacey, an actor who never fails to delight. We’ve seen him as an avuncular Sir Politic Would-be in Volpone, a hilarious Peter in Relative Values (opposite Patricia Hodge) and a wonderfully gruff Sir Francis in the Menier’s Charley’s Aunt. But I think his Henry is his crowning glory. You really get the sense of Henry’s journey from gardener to guerrilla (well, not quite that bad maybe), his changing relationship with Augusta, his awakening of the romantic side of life when he meets Tooley, and his natural heroic decency. He brings out all the comedy of the role without ever overplaying his hand, and you really feel that you know Henry deep down as a person. It’s a brilliant performance.

There are some very good supporting performances too: Hugh Maynard’s Wordsworth is a larger-than-life 60s retro character, almost a parody of himself as a groovy lurve machine; he wouldn’t have been out of place in an Austin Powers movie. Although we felt the characterisation belonged almost too much to a pre-political correctness age, his enormous sense of fun at the centre of the song and dance routines was irresistible. Haley Flaherty is a rather sweet and impressionable Tooley, surprising herself by her feelings for the older man; and Jack Chissick enjoys himself hugely in his dual roles as the vicious Colonel Hakim and the humorously ineffectual Mr Visconti. The ensemble give us loads of energy with their dance sequences and character vignettes, and the whole vibe is one where the cast come together to tell us a story of war criminals, art theft, violence and adultery, but keeping it light at the same time. We all enjoyed it enormously. It runs at the Minerva until 4th June. As Miss Hodge might say under other circumstances – such fun!

P. S. As a very minor aside, I’ve never seen such unconvincing onstage smoking. Nothing was ever lit, no little glow of heat ever appeared at the end of a cigarette, no smoke ever emerged. It may be healthier that way, but it did look a little silly!

Review – Spymonkey – The Complete Deaths, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 5th May 2016

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Anyone who’s familiar with the Spymonkey oeuvre will know just one thing in advance of this show; it will be anarchic. It will probably be surreal; very likely subversive; there may be nudity (or at least flashes thereof); there will almost certainly be clowning; it’s bound to break most of the rules of drama; and it will create a situation where a reviewer has no choice but to include no fewer than five semi-colons in a sentence.

This was our fourth exposure to Spymonkey. Initially I resisted their siren call, because I thought they sounded just too silly. But I was encouraged to check them out by Top Management at the Royal and Derngate (I know, get me) and they were right. The stylish nonsense of Oedipussy, the scurrilous chaos of Cooped (which I think remains my favourite), the wayward farce of Every Last Trick and now The Complete Deaths, where Toby and the team attempt to recreate all the deaths that happen onstage in the entire works of Shakespeare. No off-stage deaths though. Oh no. That’s very clear. Helping us to identify and appreciate each individual death, an LED banner at the top of the proscenium arch declares the name of each relevant play and victim in Brechtian splendour, whilst another LED counter counts down the number of deaths left to re-enact, the number steadily reducing with ghoulish inevitability. The four performances in Northampton are described as previews in advance of the show opening next week as part of the Brighton Festival. So I guess what we saw last night might not be quite the finished product? But I’ll just have to assume it is.

You enter the auditorium to the sight of four stand up microphones in a row, which led me to expect some form of Jersey Boys entertainment. (Actually, Spymonkey channelling their inner Frankie Vallis would be well worth a ticket). But that would have been at odds with the sight of Petra Massey and Stephan Kreiss taking turns playing at dead on the stage floor, whilst the other films a fly wandering and buzzing all over them. (It’s not a real fly. No flies were harmed during the making of this show, the programme promises us. If that’s the case, they managed to find at least one fly that well deserves its Equity card.) The fly acts as a metaphor for death and a symbol of mortality, throughout the show. That’s no doubt the brainwave of Spymonkey boss Toby Park, who sees, in this production, an opportunity for true artistic revelation, to pare down the overblown inadequacies of a theatre company known for mere slapstick, to challenge its overfed and overcosseted petit bourgeois audience into confronting the reality of life and death, to take the theatrical art to the highest level of achievement; in fact, to indulge in overwhelmingly up-himself self-important pomposity. And he does it so well.

As a stark contrast to the sheer dramatic integrity of Toby’s approach to the work, the other members of the company are not perhaps quite so artistically aspirational. Aitor wants to be a grand actor, Petra wants some financial security (and to play Ophelia – not allowed, she’s offstage when she dies), and Stephan just wants to play. And that’s the strength of this show – Toby going in one direction (arty, with a capital F), the others in the other. Things come to a crunch when Toby’s very future with the company is questioned, resulting in his spectacular hurt puppy-dog kicked in the nuts look. Still, he always has the graphic design to fall back on. I think I have his business card somewhere.

And of course, there’s all the usual silly Spymonkey escapades to enjoy. Some of those interpretations of Shakespearean deaths are just brilliant. Aitor’s Romeo, getting his codpiece caught on the stepladder, as he lands on top of Petra’s Juliet had me in hysterics. The interminably and inappropriately jolly characters in Titus Andronicus, Petra’s interpretation of Thisbe as a bit of a scrubber, and the fabulously staged death of Hector in Troilus and Cressida by percussion tubing to Yazoo’s Only You, are all examples of their creatively inventive re-enactments. The pathos captured in the scene where Cinna the Poet is murdered was – literally – unreal. For Brutus’ death at the hands of Strato, Aitor seeks a member of the audience to join him on stage – so you have been warned. As it happens, George, who was Aitor’s assistant for the first night, had a brilliantly natural deadpan comic delivery and their double act worked a treat. There were many other remarkable, and hilarious, deaths but going into too much detail will only spoil it for you. Suffice to say that probably the crowning glory of the re-enactments was Petra’s tasteful and sensitive portrayal of the death of Cleopatra. Never has an asp had more fun. And even Shakespeare himself makes an appearance!

A very funny, probably unique evening of Shakespearean entertainment. I haven’t seen Mrs Chrisparkle laugh this much since the time I explained to her why I had been too busy to do the laundry. The company has such a wonderful sense of fun and that enviable total lack of inhibition that it is impossible not to love them. Once it has opened at Brighton Festival next week, the tour carries on throughout the country and Istanbul and Chicago, would you believe. No better stressbuster than to enjoy two middle-aged gentlemen in their underpants smearing each other with blood. A palpable hit. (Sorry, but it had to be said.)

Review – National Theatre Connections, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 28th & 29th April 2016

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This is my first dip of the toe into the waters of the National Theatre Connections, but encouraged to take the plunge by my fellow partner in theatre-blogging crime Mr Smallmind, I thought I’d give it a go. If you don’t know what it’s all about, several local youth theatre groups participate in performing the same plays in many different parts of the country. I say “local” – some of these guys had come a very long way to perform for us, so thank you for that! It wasn’t possible for me to see all the plays on offer at the Royal and Derngate, but I saw five, which isn’t bad for a first attempt. It would have been six, except that Theatre Alba had to cancel their performance of Bassett, due to cast illness. Shame; get well soon!

Citizenship by Mark Ravenhill, performed by RAPA at the Royal Theatre, 28th April.

This is the first time I’ve seen a play by the celebrated Mark Ravenhill, but knowing his fondness for the odd bit of bad language (after all he did write Shopping and F***ing), I was a little concerned for the good morals and purity of the young people involved. I needn’t have worried. What a terrific little play and what a first rate performance from the entire company.

RAPA – I’m guessing – is the Rushden Academy Performing Arts. Many things stood out for me. The sensitivity with which the subject matter was handled – a 15-year-old boy trying to understand his sexuality – and how it was portrayed by the actors playing Tom and Amy was really impressive. The sheer professionalism of the actors; the lead roles of Tom, Amy and Gary brought huge understanding and emotion to their characters, as well as getting just the right amount of humour out of the text. You would not have known these were not professional actors. There were also some superbly performed scenes showing how some girls are born to be great mothers and some just aren’t!

But perhaps the most impressive aspect of the show was how well the company worked as an ensemble. The opening (silent) scene is a fantastic display of physical comedy between the cast, choreographically perfect to within an inch of each other; swift, precise, funny, story-telling, characterful, full of little victories and school bullying; a true delight. When anything went slightly wrong they coped with it brilliantly – one guy lost a shoe in one of the mock-fight scenes but he carried on as if nothing had happened and subtly put it back on at a good moment – that could have thrown a lesser actor. I was also very impressed with the confidence and adroitness with which the cast handled the boxes – that kind of prop/scenery handling isn’t as easy as it looks and they have it down to a fine art. Stunning work team, you did a fantastic job.

As an aside, in an audience made up of more than 95% sixth-formers, I was very surprised at the barely suppressed sounds of shock, horror and disgust that came from some of them at the sight of two guys kissing. I would have thought young adults today (particularly those interested in the theatre) would have been more grown-up about such things.

Take Away by Jackie Kay, performed by BEA Theatre Company, in the Underground, 28th April.

To this group of aspiring actors, I give you this constructive feedback. OK kids, here’s the deal: If you’re going to the effort to put on a play, and ask the general public to pay to come and see it, there are some rules you have to follow. 1) learn the lines; 2) know your positions; 3) when things go wrong, cover it up and move on; 4) if you’re occupying chairs by the side of the stage whilst you’re not “on stage”, maintain personal discipline by sitting still and silently; and 5) don’t give up after five minutes and giggle your way through the rest of the performance like you’re in the playground. Above all, don’t make your audience cringe with so much embarrassment that they want the earth to open up and swallow them. I understand that for reasons outside of the cast’s control there were some late-in-the-day changes which inevitably meant it was under-rehearsed. But even so, there’s no excuse for not taking it seriously in front of a paying audience.

Eclipse by Simon Armitage, performed by Northampton High School, at the Royal Theatre, 28th April.

Simon Armitage is the Oxford Professor of Poetry, so I went in to the show hoping for something rather classically erudite. The play was commissioned by the National Theatre for the Connections programme back in 1996, and was inspired by the real-life disappearance of a girl during the solar eclipse. Top marks here for the professionalism in preparing a programme (the only one of the five shows to do so) – makes the life of a reviewer so much easier!

I must confess I didn’t really like the play itself very much. As a modern verse drama, it felt a bit pretentious and rather stylised – just not my style I’m afraid. However, there were some very enjoyable performances. Georgina Balderstone in particular gave a very strong performance as Lucy Lime, the girl who disappears. Full of character, benefiting from her very clear and well projected speaking voice, and appearing naturally very comfortable on the stage – a fine stage presence. Amy Goldup was also very strong as Klondike, the natural leader of “the gang”, very accurate and natural with her speech patterns and conversational style. I also really enjoyed the performance of Shona Guha as Glue Boy, bringing out all the humour of the character’s drug-fuelled state. If I have a criticism, it would be that they weren’t sufficiently au fait with the prop handling and scenery layout, which caused a few minor crises and collisions along the way – including an unexpectedly hilarious moment when a member of the cast repositioned a table on which she was placing items, forgetting that, to us, that table was a huge boulder. But that’s just a matter of more rehearsal. Overall a very good performance of a not-very-easy play.

The Musicians by Patrick Marber, performed by St Swithun’s School, in the Underground, 28th April.

I’m glad to have finally got the chance to see The Musicians, because we were originally scheduled to see the R&D Youth Company perform it in February – but it clashed with the UK’s National Final at Eurovision. Sorry, Youth Company; I will see you again some time, promise. The Musicians was written in 1994 and is a charming little play about a British school orchestra performing at a culture festival in Moscow – only problem is, their instruments have been seized by Customs. Get out of that one if you can.

It was a very enjoyable production, high on humour if a little sparse on theatricality. Much of the drive comes from the antagonistic relationship but later respectful friendship between Roland, the conductor and Alex, the cleaner; and the two actors took on these roles with spirit. But I most enjoyed the performance of the character (didn’t catch the name I’m afraid) of the girl who idolises Roland and looks up to him at every opportunity. She gave a great comic performance, especially when she throws herself on the floor in self-disgust because it’s her fault the instruments have been impounded. From a story-telling perspective, it wasn’t entirely clear to me what happened in the concert. Did they just mime to a recording? Or did they mime silently? The character who says she made a mistake made a great job of that very funny line. I also didn’t entirely understand why Alex was lauded as a hero so much at the end. I was paying attention, honest. I’m unsure whether those little problems were caused by the direction, or the acting, or both. Oh, and kudos to the group for going for a sophisticated professional-style curtain call!

Gargantua by Carl Grose, performed by Foundations Youth Theatre, at the Royal Theatre, 29th April.

Foundations Youth Theatre can’t half get a lot of people on stage at one time! When we entered the auditorium, there were already dozens of actors, sprawled out over the floor, their hands quivering to the beat of some portentous music. The Prime Minister was mistaking his cabinet member for “Doris”, they were trying to get him to remember the secret code to prevent a nuclear war, and there was a vast big baby balloon bobbing up and down in the background. Confused? Maybe, but thoroughly delighted too, as this huge surreal melting pot of nonsense had me giggling from the start.

I really loved the inventive use of balloons throughout the performance – someone with very adept fingers had made them into a film camera, a doctor’s stethoscope, military weapons; in fact, almost every prop was made from balloonery. Well done to everyone for keeping them under control, because balloons have a habit of slipping out of place, but the prop handling was perfect. Also, congratulations to the guys who, War Horse-like, discreetly and expertly puppeteered the big baby into position and operated its hands and legs so efficiently that you didn’t notice them pulling the strings. Nice work.

As well as all the great ensemble scenes, where everyone knew their places and dovetailed with each other perfectly, there were some super individual performances too. No programme, so I don’t know anyone’s names, so I’ll have to refer to them by their characters. I really enjoyed the portrayal of Regina, the hectoring building developer, all northern bluff and bully; she brought a terrific stage presence and characterisation to the show. Mr and Mrs Mungus provided a genuine touch of tenderness to the roles of new parents and finely played their parts as straight as possible so that the ironic humour shone out. Dr Lucky approached his role with relish – he had something of the James Acaster about him; politician Pippa also has a great physical presence, delivered her lines with an excellent variety of emphasis, and she also gave the Prime Minister the most convincing slap. The PM and his adviser cronies were very amusing, and I also enjoyed the pomposity of the TV reporter. Last, but not least, congratulations to the guys who sang the baby’s lullaby – very nicely done, with a good balance of absurd humour and musicality. But all the cast turned in a sterling performance, and you could feel, as a member of the audience, that everyone sitting around you really enjoyed it. Great stuff.

So if this were a drama festival and I had to pick one “winner”, out of those five I would narrowly give it to RAPA for Citizenship but with Foundations Youth Theatre’s Gargantua a very creditable second. I really enjoyed my first Connections experience, and will certainly look out for it again next year. In the meantime, I would estimate that over the last two days I saw at least seven young actors who gave really impressive, sophisticated and virtually flawless performances and I look forward to seeing them again on fresh stages and in new roles in the future. Best of luck to everyone involved!

Review – The Truth, Menier Chocolate Factory, 24th April 2016

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As a result of The Father, Florian Zeller has become something of a star name in the world of dramatists, but I confess this is the first time I’ve seen anything he’s written. As La Vérité, this play was written in 2011 and has been performed not only in France but also Germany, Italy, Belgium and Spain. As The Truth it has been translated by Christopher Hampton and now appears for the first time in the UK.

What is the truth? Sometimes, as this hilarious and cringe-making play shows, it’s not always that easy to tell. You may be lying to your partner if you are having an affair, and presumably your co-affairee (is that a word? If not, it should be) is also lying to their partner. But is that the end of it? Are there further untruths out there? With terrific dexterity, the play shows the tangled web we weave when first we practise…well you know the rest. I can’t say too much about the plot without giving the entire game away, and that would be greatly to reduce the play’s impact; you need to come fresh to its little shocks and surprises right until the bitter end. So that’s all the plot you’re getting from me.

As a teaser, though, the programme gives you the play’s tight structure: seven scenes take you through the Rendezvous, Tightrope Walking, The Lie, Friendship, The Break-Up, An Explanation, and the Truth. When it’s precisely mapped out like this in advance, your mind can follow the clear route from start to finish even though you’ve no idea exactly what’s in store. This helps give the play an inexorable drive and pace, and somehow makes its final conclusion seem even more inevitable. Mrs Chrisparkle and I were thinking afterwards that this would be a most uncomfortable play to watch as a couple if either of you had had an affair. And whatever you do, don’t book this show as part of a let’s forgive and forget process; you might as well hand over the keys your house and move out straight away.

Lizzie Clachan’s stark and sterile set provides an excellent background for this deceptively unemotional play; no place for sentiment here. Instead all the attention is focussed on Michel getting further and further into trouble and trying to extricate himself from the mess. The text delivers cliffhanger after cliffhanger, punchline after punchline, always keeping you on your toes waiting for the next squirm; and Lindsay Posner’s clear and pacey direction helps keep the fast and furious plot development as the topmost priority.

Weaving its way through the web of deceit is a superb performance by Alexander Hanson as Michel. Hardly ever off stage, he self-degenerates from urbane, rather smarmy and selfish lover to quivering wreck. As he starts to realise that he is just as sinned against as sinning, his retaliations and defences become more and more ludicrous, so that he comes across as a self-pitying spoilt git without the slightest degree of empathy. It’s a beautifully funny performance, full of fantastic timing and great energy. It’s not often you see Captain von Trapp with his pants around his ankles – don’t worry, it’s all done in the best possible taste.

For the plot development and reveals to work fully, it’s necessary for the motivations of the other characters to be not quite so obvious. Frances O’Connor’s Alice, carrying on the affair with Michel behind her husband’s back, is delightfully aloof at times, providing just enough sexual allure to keep Michel coming back for more but holding back too so that we can’t quite see where she’s going. Their phone call scene where Michel has to pretend to be Alice’s aunt is a Laugh Out Loud Riot. Tanya Franks gives a great performance as Laurence, Michel’s wife, pointedly asking him difficult questions, slowly revealing she knows more than he thinks she knows, making him dig deeper to get out of his already substantial hole. And anything she might be hiding comes to the surface with subtle brilliance. Perhaps it’s only Robert Portal who slightly underplays the role of Paul, Michel’s best friend and Alice’s husband; he successfully keeps his cards close to his chest but at the same time you slightly wonder why Michel would have him as his best friend, because not quite enough of the “best friendliness” comes out in his performance. Still, maybe Paul knows something we don’t know…

But this is a minor quibble. It’s a fascinating and hilarious play, perfectly structured, and with a marvellous central performance. One hour 25 minutes at a push; for some people that is music to their ears, so they can get on and do other things; for others (myself included) you can’t quite help the feeling of being slightly short-changed. Back in the day, that would have constituted one half of a double bill of two one-act plays. But better a short performance of this play than none. There is talk of a transfer; why not? It’s enormously entertaining and really deserves it.

Review – The James Plays, National Theatre of Scotland, Derngate, Northampton, 16th April 2016

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As a Sassenach, it’s fairly shocking how Scottish history pre-1603 didn’t get taught at school when I was a lad. Everyone knows that James VI of Scotland became James I of England, but who were James I – V? Thanks to Shakespeare, we know of Macbeth, and by association Duncan, but I reckon most English people would be hard-pressed to give you the name of any other Scottish monarch. So one function of Rona Munro’s The James Plays is already sorted – filling the gaping holes in the brains of us folk south of the border with some of the missing bits of Scottish history. It’s almost a shame she confesses in the programme that she made some of it up.

The James Plays were premiered in 2014 in a joint production between the National Theatre of Scotland, the National Theatre of Great Britain and the Edinburgh International Festival. Now they’re back for a UK and International tour, popping up for weekends in a theatre near you, where all three plays are performed on each day – James I in the morning, James II for the matinee, and James III in the evening. What struck me was how self-contained each play is. Mrs Chrisparkle and I grasped the production with all our mettle and saw all three plays on the same day – rather like we did with Young Chekhov last year. But that isn’t necessary. You don’t even need to see them in the chronological order, although the final tableau of James III makes more sense if you do.

Each play also has its own very distinctive vibe, with the three kings having very different personality characteristics. James I – The Key Will Keep The Lock is on a grand scale, full of warrior declamations, court scenes, a Royal Wedding, and plenty of bloody deaths. It’s the tale of the ascent of the king and his subsequent downfall. It’s the one that felt most Shakespearean to me; it’s also, by far, the funniest. Yes, you don’t expect these plays to be funny, do you? At times, James I (the play, not so much the man) is hysterically funny. James II – Day of the Innocents feels much more introverted by comparison, dealing with the shy boy king and his growing friendship with William Douglas. Once again it’s a play featuring the strategies of war and political motivations, but it’s seen more from the perspective of emotions and relationships. It also sports a tremendous trick on the audience with a repeated scene where his mother becomes his wife – you’ll have to see it to appreciate what I mean. James III – The True Mirror has an almost surreal atmosphere at times, with a king whose grasp on sanity is sometimes questionable, and a Royal court in disharmony due to adultery and financial mishandling, but ending with a more optimistic sense of what the future is going to hold.

The three plays are directed by Laurie Sansom and it’s a pleasure to welcome him back to the theatre where he was Artistic Director until 2013. I can’t think of a safer pair of hands to tackle this triptych of treachery than Mr Sansom. Having seen a number of his productions, I remain convinced that no one can create a pure sense of ensemble within a cast like he can. I don’t know how he does it. Maybe he adds a little cement to their breakfast cereal in the mornings. But whenever you see a Sansom show you can instantly recognise that amazing understanding between cast members which leads to a generosity of performance, a truly confident fluidity of movement, and a communal sense that they’re all in it together. You can even see this in the casting; one actor will take a major role in one of the plays, then merely be listed as ensemble in another. Not that ensemble is a second-class role when Laurie’s at the helm.

For this production you can choose from the standard auditorium seating or tiered seating on the stage. I’m usually jealous of people who see a production from the stage because I always think they’re getting an intimate involvement with the action that I’m missing out on. That’s because, when I was 15, I went on a school trip to see Equus,- brave of the teacher if nothing else – and we were perched on on-stage benches in spitting distance of the late Colin Blakely and Gerry Sundquist and it was theatrical magic. However, it wasn’t that long ago that I retried the experiment with onstage seating for Richard III at the Trafalgar Studios and it was a total disaster. Couldn’t see a bloody thing. So this time I went with my gut reaction to take my usual Row G of the Stalls and it was the best decision. There would be a few scenes where you could not see what was going on if you were seated on stage, and you would certainly lose the overall impact of the grand spectacle. Plus, there’s a socking great sword stuck into the stage and if you were sat behind that, I doubt if you could see past the hilt.

As I suggested earlier, you can’t pick out one star performer or role who leads the cast as you might in most standard productions. So let’s start with the kings and work backwards. James I is played by that charismatic and exciting actor Steven Miller, whom we last saw as the most convincingly manipulative Iago in Frantic Assembly’s Othello. He brings to the role a sense of innate nobility and quiet power which makes so strong a contrast with Henry V and the ruffian Stewart family whose capture he witnesses and whose company he has to endure. He really brings out the humanity of the character, trying to do the right thing and to balance his regal and family obligations. He also adds a tremendous naiveté to the whole wedding scene. I think he’s definitely One To Watch.

As James II, Andrew Rothney is totally believable as the nervous little boy shutting himself away in his kist, slowly finding his confidence to become an assertive young man. Is it wrong of me to wish that his birthmark hadn’t been shaped like the outline of Scotland? But I also thought Mr Rothney was chillingly superb as the malicious Walter Stewart in James I, scornfully patronising the king and justifying his own inhumane behaviour. Matthew Pidgeon’s James III is an increasingly disturbing portrayal of a man on the edge, constantly pushing at barriers to see what he will get away with next. With his eyeliner and ever closer interest in all things camp, he reminded me of a psychotic Tim Minchin. And his Henry V is a brilliantly rumbustious and argumentative presence, combining arrogant brutality with a surprising vulnerability. Three fantastic performances.

These regal leaders have some feisty women to contend with too. Rosemary Boyle is brilliant as Joan, particularly in her younger days, fussing and fuming with an explosive vitality, assuming an air of responsibility whilst she’s still really just a little girl. Her torment as she is married to the unpredictable king is wonderfully portrayed in the scene where he is late – then absent – for dinner when they should be providing hospitality to the Stewarts. Blythe Duff’s Isabella is an unapologetically assertive opponent who’s not above psyching out the queen with her “soup”, but her reaction to her personal tragedy of losing her sons is genuinely heartbreaking, and her perpetual presence up in the prison is really moving. She’s also terrific as the sarcastic but also kindly Annabella, a hanger-on at court but giving much needed support to her self-hating great-nephew at the end. Malin Crépin is excellent as James III’s queen Margaret, a true survivor, combatting her liege’s excesses by distracting him with colourful scarves, carrying on the business of ruling behind his back, defeating the influence of his girlfriend with the use of the mirror, and even assuming power in his absence.

Other stand out performances include Sally Reid as the cheeky but loyal Meg, sent as a “present” to Joan and who becomes James II’s nanny; Andrew Still, outstanding as William Douglas, James II’s boyhood friend but eventual enemy; John Stahl, forceful and dominant as Murdac the Regent of Scotland prior to James I’s coronation; Ali Craig, as the aggressive and powerful Big Jim Stewart; Peter Forbes as the wretched Balvenie, picking his way through the politics to get the best deal for himself; and Daniel Cahill, as the son that James III didn’t care for and abandoned, who develops into a 14-year-old warrior and, in a very moving and brave final scene, comes to terms with his regicidal action and prepares to become James IV hereafter – kudos to you sir. But, as I said earlier, this is primarily an ensemble production and every single member of the cast gives to the day a huge commitment, great style, and brings the best out of Rona Munro’s wonderfully modern text.

Expect a day of fantastic spectacle, superbly evocative music, and thoroughly engrossing drama. The costume, and most particularly lighting departments exceed all expectations and play a truly dynamic role in the overall production. Yes, I did think the second play would have benefited from being about twenty minutes shorter; and yes, although it was highly amusing in its anachronism, I was most surprised that the court of James III was so keen on The Human League’s back catalogue. But, above all, expect a day of electric performances and riveting drama. The tour continues till June and I couldn’t recommend it highly enough.

P. S. I bumped into Laurie Sansom during the interval of James III. I told him he hadn’t lost it. He seemed relieved.

Review – King Lear, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 12th April 2016

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Time to add another King Lear to the collection. For this Made in Northampton production, which will tour to nine more theatres between now and July, Mrs Chrisparkle and I were joined by Lady Lichfield, paying us a visit in a never-ending quest for culture and alcohol. She’d never seen King Lear on stage before, poor love. In previous years we’ve seen stage productions with McKellen (majestic), Postlethwaite (troubled) and Jacobi (petulant), all brilliant in their own way. And Mrs C in particular can’t forget the TV adaptation with Olivier as Lear, which had her blubbing uncontrollably when Cordelia died. I think she had hoped for the earlier adaptation where Cordelia marries Edgar and they all live happily ever after.

To add to that pantheon of greats, we can now include Michael Pennington, whom I must confess I had never seen before. His is a fantastic Lear, extremely believable as both the self-centred and quick to ire king, and as the devastated, broken man on the blasted heath. Delightful to watch and listen to throughout, with his superbly pitched diction, his gently understated quirky visual expressions, and his gradual decline into madness. He answers the perennial question of Is Lear Really Mad with an utterly honest, wide-eyed stare of dementia that certainly convinced me. Every inch a great performance.

Some Shakespeare productions can be amazingly inventive; some grow their strength from their essential traditionalism. You don’t get much in the way of traditional Shakespeare nowadays – it’s almost seen as a confession of unoriginality if you don’t place it in an anachronistic time-setting or have all the cast members the same sex. Max Webster’s production is pretty much in the classically traditional line; there is a nod to the 1920s/30s in the costumes, and Regan’s child sports a rather smart perambulator, but apart from that it is the timeless story of the powerful but vain old man who gives all to his daughters and gets less than nothing in return. It’s a good, solid production that tells its story with great clarity, pared back so that no gimmicks get in the way, although with a couple of surprising twists in a few of the scenes to keep you on your toes. However, I must say that I thought the use of music, when I noticed it, was rather heavy-handed; there’s a very Hollywood-style orchestral accompaniment to the big fight between Edgar and Edmund which completely destroyed its sense of tension. In any event, the fight itself was choreographed with a remarkable lack of realism; I briefly thought we’d been transported to a scene between Aladdin and Abanazar.

However, what you come away with is a satisfactorily rewarding production, with some very fine performances, and interesting, thought-provoking interpretations of some of the roles. For me, apart from Mr Pennington, the best performance of the night was from Joshua Elliott as the Fool. Primarily, he achieved the nigh-on impossibility of making the Fool funny. He made you laugh, yet still delivered his blistering observations on Lear that hit the spot with all the precision of a Tomahawk missile; frequently all in the same sentence. Rarely have I heard the lines such as all thy other titles thou hast given away told with such simple honesty. And, with some cunning direction, the “joint-stool” line worked perfectly.

That fine actor Pip Donaghy makes a perfect Gloucester, warmly trusting Edmund, heartily supporting the King, and allowing himself to be duped because of his own open nature. Gloucester features in two of the most challenging moments of the play, and I find myself looking forward to them just to see how they’ll deal with them. The first is where Cornwall blinds him – challenging due to its goriness (and this production doesn’t disappoint) – and the second is where he attempts to throw himself off a cliff that isn’t there; a truly pathetic moment (in the correct sense of the word). Again, that scene was beautifully portrayed, also thanks to the sincere and heartfelt portrayal of Edgar by Gavin Fowler.

Catherine Bailey’s Goneril and Sally Scott’s Regan appear as sisters in unctuous sycophancy as they outdo each other in their hideous praise for their father, which of course all turns to dust once they have achieved power. They both absolutely look the part of butter-wouldn’t-melt, which adds to the shock of their true nature, with Miss Scott in particular resembling the evil twin of Lady Edith from Downton Abbey. Tom McGovern’s Kent is the mildest and, dare I say it, blandest of courtiers, but absolutely comes to life when pretending to be the sparky little Caius, horrendously chipper in his support for Lear. Among the more minor characters, I thought Daniel O’Keefe was excellent as the serviceable villain Oswald, hiding tight-lipped behind his status as Goneril’s steward, but physically cowardly when real life intercedes. There is a gasp moment when you really think Regan is going to seek to reward Oswald for information in a manner not entirely becoming a lady; but wet fish that he is, he doesn’t go there. Very nicely done.

Scott Karim gives us a very stylish portrayal of Edmund. I normally think of Edmund as full of bluster and barely disguised anger. However, this Edmund is much more introverted; quiet, sly, taking the audience into his confidence with subtle glee. He is a Uriah Heep of an Edmund, creating slippery plans for his own personal wealth and success, and with no thought to the consequence to his high-living brother or generous father. At first I was unsure of this portrayal, but I quickly saw how extremely well it works.

I am, however, less certain of the interpretation of Cordelia, by Beth Cooke. I always associate the character with purity – being the youngest, unmarried, daughter – and honesty, as she refuses to lie to her father about how much she loves him. This portrayal certainly reflects Cordelia’s honesty, as she adamantly refuses to back down to Lear’s hectoring behaviour. But purity? When, disinherited, she meets her two suitors, Burgundy and France, she’s all over Burgundy like a rash. That’s not the classic Cordelia I remember. Also, she opens the play by coming on stage and firing her shotgun at us. This appears to be a Cordelia with attitude. However, her mannered speech delivery remains fairly constant throughout the play – speaking with a slow, almost ponderous rhythm that doesn’t allow for much variety of tone or expression. She may have attitude, but she also seems to be resigned to a life of misery from the very start. I must confess, it didn’t quite work for me.

But the evening definitely belongs to Mr Pennington, who brings an accessibility and modernity to the role that makes you realise that any of your elderly relatives could easily become a Lear if the wind was in the wrong direction. A very enjoyable and rewarding evening.

P.S. Mrs C didn’t cry.

Review – The Last Tango, Derngate, Northampton, 21st March 2016

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The last time we saw Vincent Simone and Flavia Cacace, in Midnight Tango, the show reminded us so strongly of our (then) recent visit to Argentina, as it was full of drama and excitement, edgy sensuality, dynamic rhythms, and powerful storylines told through the medium of dance. When you walk the streets of Buenos Aires, Tango can just emerge on a street-corner; a young couple will commandeer an area of pavement, place a ghetto blaster on the floor, turn it on and suddenly busk the most extraordinarily passionate dancing for the hope of earning some passing pesos. How much more thrilling than in the UK where it’s probably an old bloke with a penny whistle and a cap. Mrs Chrisparkle and I adored Midnight Tango; in its own way it was as exciting as the best contemporary dance or classical ballet.

We missed Vincent and Flavia’s next show, Dance ‘til Dawn, but thought we should catch The Last Tango as, indeed, it is meant to be their Last Tango. After this show they have resolved to hang up their stage dance shoes for ever – maybe to move into the world of film, as Vincent suggests in the programme. In their programme interview, they point out that they have always wanted to give each of their shows a very different theme and atmosphere. They didn’t want to bore their audiences by churning out the same old thing every time. A laudable aim. The very romantic story thread for this show is an older guy sitting in his attic, sorting through old stuff, some of which he can keep, some of which he can’t. As he finds old items, toys, clothes, papers, they remind him of his younger days, and as he daydreams, the cast dance out his memories. Vincent plays the man in his younger days – a very knowing greeting to each other through a full length mirror makes that clear – and Flavia his lady; and you can tell from the very start that the absence of an older lady also rummaging through the attic means this isn’t going to end happily for her.

The dance sequences take you through the life of the younger couple – from meeting, and early dates, through marriage and his being called up in the army (for World War II you sense, although the time sequence is muddy, more of which later); his return, their settling down in a house and having a family, a 40th birthday party and so on. And if you’re waiting for this last tango; it comes right at the end after the initial curtain call.

There’s a lot of good about this show but a few frustrations too. It looks great. It’s an intriguing and versatile set; Vicky Gill’s costumes are terrific (Flavia in particular looks absolutely stunning the whole night long), and Steve Geere’s orchestra, nestling in the pit in front of the stage in the most traditional manner, are on brilliant form, giving us fantastic renditions of thirty, mainly familiar, songs. Matthew Gent and Rebecca Lisewski sing with passion and style – I particularly liked the way Beyond The Sea segued into Moondance, very classy – and the ensemble work wonderfully well together, filling the stage with lively and entertaining dance sequences. You’ve also got the marvellous Mr Teddy Kempner. I always feel happy when I open a programme to discover Mr Kempner’s in the cast. I first saw him back in 1984 in Snoopy the Musical and I feel like he and I have grown up together through the years. He’s playing the older guy, pootling around his attic, making wry comments about jackets that don’t fit anymore and doing a great line in vocalising surprise discoveries.

Which brings us to Mr Simone and Ms Cacace themselves, who, of course, are still sensational. They can turn their hand (feet?) to any style you choose, and in this show we get the full range of ballroom and Latin dances, not just the Tango/Argentine Tango. I found the scene just before the interval, where the young man receives his calling-up papers (I loved the idea of using the papers as an interface between foot and floor) very moving, not only because of the beautiful dance itself but also the expressions of the dancers: Vincent in abject dismay and Flavia in almost uncontrollable weeping. Mrs C was not so moved by this: “well you know he’s going to come back alright; you can see him up there in the attic”. True enough. Another really enjoyable routine was the jive to (not inappropriately) Jump Jive an’ Wail, which earned one of the best receptions of the night.

It was a shame that they didn’t sequence the dances more in keeping with the progress of the years, which would have been helpful for understanding the timeline of the story. When the couple take delivery of their incredibly old-fashioned sofa and chair, bedecked with ancient anti-Macassars, I recognised them from my Great Aunt’s home circa 1966 – and they were old then. A little Rock’n’Roll dancing, maybe, wouldn’t have gone amiss at that point to pin the era down. That said, I really did love the rumba that Vincent and Flavia danced near the end, as if she were beyond the grave, and that last, last tango was incredible. And on reflection, that was also part of the frustration. It was such a perfectly executed, intricate, stirring dance, the type that makes you gasp in awe and wonderment; and we couldn’t help but think it would have been great to have seen more of it earlier in the show. Yes, there were other Argentine Tango routines, but none of them half as exciting as that final dance. They certainly saved the best till last.

It’s a very attractive show, and there’s barely a moment without some enjoyable dancing to watch. But for us it lacked just a little of the bite – and certainly the humour – of Midnight Tango. Just a little more vanilla than we would have preferred. But it’s all a question of taste. The audience loved it, and why not? The tour continues through to July. This might be your last chance of seeing Vincent and Flavia live!

Review – Days of Significance, University of Northampton BA (Hons) Acting, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 18th March 2016

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And so we come to the third and final of the University of Northampton’s Acting Course March season at the Royal and Derngate, and Roy Williams’ Days of Significance, which first saw the light of day at Stratford in 2007. After the strong productions of Welcome to Thebes and Blue Stockings, would this be a hat trick of excellence for the third year students? The answer is – so nearly, and that’s no fault of the actors themselves.

A bunch of drunk lads and a bunch of drunk girls clash and form alliances late at night whilst queueing to get into the club; among them are Ben, who has a relationship with Trish (although you’d not say either were monogamous) and Jamie, who is seen in a more romantic light, with Hannah. Ben and Jamie are shortly off to fight in Iraq; Ben full of bravado, the sensitive Jamie full of ill-concealed fear. The scene shifts to Iraq, and a hide-out where Ben and Jamie are holed up with two other men (ironically both played by women). Whilst Ben is making a video to send home to Trish, they are interrupted by a call to action; and the men then are suddenly plunged into the horrors of war. After the interval, we’re back in Blighty. Steve and Clare (from the drunk groups at the beginning) are getting married; Dan is Steve’s best man; Ben didn’t survive Iraq; and Jamie is back, but a changed and broken man. The usual drunken antics take place as if nothing ever happened; but Jamie is accused of some non-specific war crimes and is singled out for criticism and victimisation. He reveals that Ben also wasn’t as innocent as he has been painted. You hope (perhaps against expectation) that Steve and Clare will make a good life together; but as for the rest, their characters tainted with excess, betrayal, and worse, you feel it’s a very gloomy view of life in the future.

I really didn’t like the play at all. It’s full of unsympathetic characters, depicting many of the worse aspects of human nature; and whilst there is some humour in their yobbish behaviour, and you can certainly recognise traits of yourself and your loved ones in many of the characters, it’s strangely unrewarding to do so. This play doesn’t so much illuminate the human condition, it exposes it in all its raw awfulness and makes you want to turn your back on humanity and go and run a dog’s home. I know that street drunkenness and sexual promiscuity is daily reality for many young people today – to be honest, it was ever thus, to an extent – and I would admire any attempt to portray their lives, no matter how challenging or offensive it might feel to some people. However, I don’t think this play achieves that in a particularly constructive way. I felt it constantly allowed itself to lose focus; it’s as though it can’t decide who its protagonists are, so that it dips in and out of people’s lives, roots around to see what’s going on, but doesn’t really get to the heart of any of the problems or issues, before moving on and taking a superficial examination of someone else.

This play (and/or production) also didn’t do the job of storytelling as clearly or succinctly as the other two in the season. There are a few Brechtian Verfremdungseffekten (I know, get me) that stop you from identifying with or fully appreciating the characters. The jeering, drunken behaviour in the first scene acts overwhelms you and creates a barrier to understanding the motivations and characteristics of the people involved. The opening part of the second scene, in Iraq, shows Ben and his mates larking about in front of the video camera but I personally found it very difficult to make out everything they said, so again the details that might help you form a bond with the characters were lost. Nothing more annoying in a play than not to be able to hear the words properly! The behaviour for which Jamie will go on trial after Iraq is deliberately obfuscated, so you rely on nuance and suggestion to understand precisely what went on. Some of the male characters are played by women, and no matter how talented those actors are, again it creates a falsehood about the whole presentation. One of these characters was required to dangle a prosthetic penis in front of the group of girls in a show of masculine derring-do, which actually just emphasised the artificiality of the situation. One wonders how they would have tackled the tackle if it had been a male actor in the role. All these aspects contributed towards a lack of understanding between the cast and the audience; as a result, the actors have an uphill task in projecting themselves to the audience, and sometimes that’s a big ask.

That said, there were some tremendous performances that really socked you in the face and demanded your attention. I really enjoyed Aoife Smyth as Trish; bold, attitudinal, fearless – she reminded me a little of what Catherine Tate’s Lauren would behave like in five years’ time. She delivered her character’s lines with immense relish and confidence, and although you’d mark her as a true survivor, she also conveyed the vulnerability that sits just below her surface – an excellent performance. I also thought Penelope May gave a great performance as Hannah, showing a refreshingly softer side as she dances with Jamie, whilst still able to give as good as she gets in arguments with the others. There’s a very uncomfortable scene towards the end of the play with Jake Rivers as Lenny, her step-father, where she runs riot with her sexual fantasies. I thought both actors took that difficult subject matter with terrific bravery and sensitivity too.

Elizabeth Adejimi was excellent as the drunk Clare at her wedding reception, beautifully picking her way through her words on a knife-edge of inebriation; and also as the Sergeant in the war scene, conveying the character’s show of bravado to keep the men’s spirits up whilst concealing his own deep terror and agony. Both Daniel Gray and Stuart Warren were on great form as Steve and Dan, especially, I felt, in the wedding scene (which was in fact by far the most dramatic and satisfying scene to watch). Both Sophie Guiver and Matilda Hunt rose to the challenge of taking on the male roles of Ben and Tony/Sean, and did a good job of nailing male characteristics and behaviour, but inevitably there was a sense of slight pantomime due to its lack of realism.

I truly admired the courage and commitment of the cast towards this difficult play – but I do feel it was a poor choice. I am no prude; I love to be challenged in the theatre. I love to come out of a play a different person from the one who went in. Throw all the invective and shock tactics at me that you can; shake me up and disturb me. Give me nightmares. Sadly, this play does none of those.