Review – Northern Ballet, The Great Gatsby, Milton Keynes Theatre, 16th April 2013

Posted on by

Scott Fitzgerald’s fantastic book came out in 1925 and rarely goes away. Last year we saw the daylong marathon that was Gatz – the bold experiment of a dramatised reading of the book in one fell swoop; for me not entirely successful, but certainly worth the attempt. And this year we have David Nixon’s dance version for Northern Ballet, set to the music of the late Sir Richard Rodney Bennett. We’ve seen a few of their productions in the past, all of them excellent, especially Romeo and Juliet, which had both of us sobbing into our Sauvignon Blancs. But rather like Gatz, this Gatsby is a jolly good stab at re-interpreting the book in another format, and like Gatz, doesn’t quite work.

Nevertheless there are plenty of aspects of the performance that are a sheer joy and well worth the ticket price. Primarily, you go to a dance to see dancers dance, right? On that level it works like a dream, as the company are in really good form, their technical ability stands out a mile and they must be amazingly fit to sustain those energy levels throughout the show. Other senses are appealed to as well; the costumes are superb, especially the ball gowns of the partying ladies and Myrtle’s stunning first act creation. The orchestra are superb, and recreate Bennett’s jazz, Charleston and other film music with intensity and excitement.

There are some particularly excellent set pieces. All the dance party scenes are lively and engaging, especially when Myrtle loosens up to Irving Berlin’s When The Midnight Choo Choo; Myrtle’s death is a vivid and startling piece of dance drama; and the entrance of guests to the Theme from Murder on the Orient Express is fun and feelgood. I loved the use of the sliding panels at each side of the stage to give extra entrance and exit spaces, and also to suggest a deeper stage than that provided at Milton Keynes; all part of excellent design by Jerome Kaplan.

So what’s the problem? It’s twofold, IMHO. It’s a brilliant book, written with such control and detachment. It’s not really about Gatsby; it’s not really a romantic novel about Gatsby/Daisy/Tom/Myrtle; rather it’s a somewhat cerebral examination of the outsider, Nick Carraway, and how he never quite fits in with society around him, playing at romance with Jordan but shying away when his cold interior is threatened, and observing the savagery of other relationships from a safe clinical distance. Gatsby himself is an enigma, an illusion; and it’s hard to engage emotionally with such characters. For all its beauty and elegance, there’s not a lot here to hang your heart on. At moments of high drama and sadness in the dance, Mrs Chrisparkle likened herself to Diana Morales, who, when faced with the death of Mr Karp, felt Nothing. Because it is a rather unemotional book, the dance lacks a little splash of passion.

Which brings me on to the choreography. For the majority of the characters, it seemed to me, David Nixon has provided some elegant and attractive gliding moves; specifically lots of twirling – not pirouettes on the spot, but the kind of spinning where they move over a large area of stage; lots of open arms at second position; lots of ladies’ legs being gracefully lifted and placed back down on stage at 90 degree angles. These are all beautiful moves, and they were all exquisitely performed. The only problem is that towards the end of the show I began to find the choreography rather samey. I wanted some variation, something quirky to stand out. The only two characters whose choreography had a different vibe were Myrtle and George, and as a result I found them much more interesting to watch; earthy, raw and physical, unembellished, unsophisticated and honest. Victoria Sibson gave a fantastic, expressive performance as Myrtle, shining with exuberance in the first act, desperate and restrained in the second; and she was matched perfectly by Benjamin Mitchell’s George whose Act One routine with the tyre was so confidently executed and whose Act Two grief had boundless athleticism.

Another quibble I had with the choreography was that the show seems to want to follow the original story so faithfully that, from the middle of the second half on, the dance gets bogged down in the minutiae of the story-telling. Individual passages from the book seemed to be expressed in dance form in such a precise way that you felt inadequate if you couldn’t understand every nuance, every dance conversation. I would have preferred a broader brush technique for these scenes – but maybe that’s just me.

There’s no denying the great performances from Martha Leebolt as Daisy, beautiful and flirtatious with Gatsby whilst risking the wrath of the brutish Tom, danced with great charisma by Kenneth Tindall, whose “slapping Myrtle” scene got a round of applause that disconcerted Mrs C. Hannah Bateman invested the character of Jordan Baker with warmth and charm, and she can make a golf swing look sexy. Giuliano Contadini was an immaculate Nick Carraway, who delivered some very deft dance moves in a way that made them look really easy; and Tobias Batley was Gatsby; measured, aloof, and technically fantastic.

David Nixon’s adaptation stops eight ninths of the way through the book – Gatsby’s death makes for a startling final curtain. In one sense it was a shame he couldn’t show the final chapter and reveal what subsequently happens to George, or Tom, or Nick, or Jordan. Considering the rest of the story had been so faithfully represented, I did feel it was a sudden ending that didn’t resolve all the issues. But maybe this just goes to show that The Great Gatsby is not an easy work to adapt. It was a pretty full house and the appreciative applause lasted long and loud. There is a lot to admire in this production and is certainly worth seeing; and even if it doesn’t succeed on all levels it’s still an inventive and enjoyable production and you come away in awe of the skill of the dancers.

Review – Alexander Shelley Conducts Scheherazade, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Derngate, Northampton, 14th April 2013

Posted on by

After a really busy weekend there are few more enjoyable prospects than to spend Sunday evening in the company of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra at one of their regular visits to Northampton. Well we’d had an exceedingly busy weekend, so a triple bill of Russian classics was the perfect medicine.

Our conductor was Alexander Shelley. It was the first time we’d seen Mr Shelley, and he is a dignified, authoritative figure, clean-cut and enthusiastic to bring the best out of the performers in his charge.

First on the evening’s agenda was Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet Fantasy Overture. A lively performance of this great attacking overture, the orchestra were already on top form and you could see Mr Shelley was intent on having a great time. I loved its periods of stateliness and sensuousness. A super start to the programme.

Then we had the usual hiatus of moving the Steinway into position, whilst members of the orchestra hover uncomfortably in corners. I wish they could do that a bit more seamlessly. Mr Shelley returned with the guest soloist, pianist Peter Jablonski, resplendent in a very trendy Nehru jacket, to play Rachmaninov’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. What impressed me most about his performance was that he covered the keyboard with such speed and such ease; and also how he threw his entire body behind the expression. When he lunged down towards the bass notes he followed through by hurling his left hand right down almost to his ankles.

I’d forgotten what an amazingly entertaining piece this is. It constantly surprises you with its inventiveness, finding yet another variation on how to play that old theme. Sometimes it makes you laugh with its irreverence, at other times is overwhelms you with its typical romantic Rachmaninoviness. It was a superb performance and the whole orchestra gave Mr Jablonksi fantastic support.

After a soothing Chenin Blanc, we returned for the final piece, a performance of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade. This is one of my favourite pieces of music, and the orchestra blew me away right from the start. The music is so representative of the sound of the sea, culminating in a shipwreck, and as it ebbs and flows over forty minutes or so, it really takes your imagination with it. That Mr Shelley led the orchestra through all its dramatic intensity with terrific attention to detail, and that the orchestra responded gloriously goes without saying. But what I wasn’t expecting was the leaders of each part of the orchestra to take such exquisite virtuoso solos. First Violinist, Clio Gould gave a performance of incredible subtlety and beauty; and when she was matched with harpist Suzy Willison-Kawalec, both of them brought out the absolute best in each other. Bassoonist Rebecca Mertens (I think) had gorgeous warmth to her playing, and lead cellist Tim Gill simply made his instrument sing. It was a riveting all round performance.

At the end we were treated to an encore, the final movement of Stravinsky’s Firebird, to send us all home with vibrant strings zinging in our ears. Mr Shelley generously allowed all sections of the orchestra to have their own special moment of appreciation from the audience, and they well and truly deserved it. For sheer enjoyment this programme was hard to beat.

Review – High Society, Derngate, Northampton, 9th April 2013

Posted on by

There’s always room in the calendar for a swanky revival of a glitzy old musical, and Music & Lyrics’ co-production with Venue Cymru of Cole Porter’s High Society certainly does the trick. The original musical was based on the play of The Philadelphia Story, and then a revival in 1998 souped it up with some additional lyrics by Susan Birkenhead, ditched a few less well-known songs and replaced them some favourite numbers from other Porter musicals; which makes a bit of a hotch-potch if you’re a Porter purist, but a real crowd-pleaser if you’re not bothered.

It’s an amusing story of rich socialite Tracy Lord preparing for her umpteenth wedding to a dreary stick-in-the-mud and the attempts to undermine it by her still-in-love ex, Dexter Haven. Add to the mix a pair of journalists wanting to get a scoop on covering the wedding, a lascivious uncle, a precocious younger sister and a chorus of maids and footmen, and it’s a recipe for a lot of fun.

It looks pretty ravishing; Francis O’Connor’s sets are classy, with just the right level of Art Deco to be convincing for the late 1930s; his costumes are smart and colourful; Andrew Wright’s choreography is snappy, funny and extremely well executed (we particularly liked the Stomp-inspired routine for “Well Did You Evah”); and the band under the direction of Michael Haslam create seriously fabulous music.

It’s a great, experienced cast and they all put in a lot of work to make the evening go with a swing. Tracy Lord is played by Sophie Bould, and she’s perfect for the part. She looks beautiful, she sings with great expression, she has excellent comic timing and she got a great round of applause. We saw her understudying Maria in the Palladium’s Sound of Music a few years ago and she was great in that too.

She is matched by Michael Praed’s Dexter Haven, who looks as American Socialite Sophisticated as you could possibly imagine, and has an incredibly rich depth to his voice that carries off the romantic numbers perfectly. Daniel Boys, who wanted to be Joseph back in 2007, and who has enjoyed loads of theatre parts since, is brilliant as the frustrated writer Mike Connor, with another superb voice and great stage presence. Alex Young, who plays Liz, his colleague who is hopelessly and unrequitedly in love with Mike, gives a terrific all-round performance of musical comedy; and she’s rather cute too. It must be very difficult to take such a well-known song as “Who Wants to be a Millionaire” and make it sound fresh and new, but Mr Boys and Miss Young did a brilliant job.

Always delighted to see another of my favourite performers, the larger than life Teddy Kempner, this time embracing the role of Uncle Willie, chasing after Liz in a really funny but never grotesque way, and giving his all in “She’s Got That Thing” like a man half his age (and size). I’ve always enjoyed Mr Kempner’s performances ever since I saw him as Snoopy thirty years ago.

I also very much liked Keiron Crook as Tracy’s appalling fiancé George Kittredge, all bluster and control freak, conveying a character with a complete lack of sense of humour to great comic effect. Marilyn Cutts and Craig Pinder, as Tracy’s parents, give great support and seventeen year old Katie Lee as Dinah, with a performance of considerable confidence and expertise, is obviously going to be a star of the future. The chorus of attendants, maids, waiters and so on were terrific, and gave a performance as good as any that you’d see in the West End.

There were a few tiny problems with the set on its first night in Northampton – there was a too-long pause between the end of the final scene and the curtain call which I’m guessing was because they were struggling to fix the staircase in position; when the curtain finally opened a stagehand was still fiddling with it and rushed off in something of despair. As a result, the staircase wasn’t properly secured, and the final dance sequence that takes place on it caused it to sway perilously from side to side. We had our hands over our mouths fearing some health and safety catastrophe – which fortunately didn’t happen! Well done to the cast for keeping going. I also wondered if there should have been some other mechanism to prevent us seeing cast members walk off stage once they had left the main acting area; they leave the set through the back doors, but then you see them traipse off in either direction. It didn’t look right; but perhaps this isn’t an issue at other theatres.

But that’s not even a miniscule quibble. It’s a super production, very much appreciated by the full audience, ticking all the lively and colourful boxes, full of feelgoodness, and certainly recommended. It’s touring until July throughout the country – go and see it!

Review – Proof, Menier Chocolate Factory, 7th April 2013

Posted on by

“What is it with this new trend of having to shout in order to prove you’re angry?” asked Mrs Chrisparkle slightly tetchily over our interval Pinot Grigio during last Sunday’s performance of Proof. “The young woman in this play shouts in just the same way the young woman in A Taste of Honey did. Makes my head hurt!” “Funny you should say that”, I responded, “as A Taste of Honey was directed by the same person, Polly Findlay”. Her eyes widened as if she had just stumbled over the most fabulous Eureka moment. “Well”, she concluded, “she needs to find another way to help actresses express anger”.

I have to agree. From the opening scene, where Catherine, played by Mariah Gale, is conversing with her father Robert, played by Matthew Marsh, it was instantaneously noticeable how many more decibels were emanating from Miss Gale’s diaphragm than from any of her fellow actors. I immediately got a sense of imbalance, and, although I got used to it after a while (quite a long while) I could never stop thinking that her performance was a bit shouty.

But really, I should start with the play. David Auburn’s Proof won the 2001 Tony Award for Best Play and that year’s Pulitzer Prize for Drama. It’s a tight, compact little play, with some clever twists and nice garden paths to lead you up. It tackles some interesting subjects – the inability to continue working when you’re suffering mental illness, the fine line between genius and madness, the inheritability of mental illness, sibling rivalry, and the question of how do you prove that you had a genius idea first or that someone else stole it. Helen Goddard’s set is a feast for the eyes and really accurately suggests a rather decrepit back patio. I also liked how the play manipulates time, with present, past and imaginary all having their place.

But I have two major problems with the play. It’s very slow to start – and, apart from the clever twist in the first scene, the first half hour or so is actually quite boring. There doesn’t seem to be much in the way of dramatic intensity between the characters and simply increasing the shoutiness levels is no replacement. It doesn’t get going until the argument between the two sisters, which reveals much more of their characters’ natures. The character of Hal, played by Jamie Parker (who you can always rely to put on a fine performance), is very thinly drawn and you get precious little understanding of his character or motivations from the text.

My other problem is the ending. The whole basis of the play concerns the authorship of a brilliant piece of mathematical proof, apparently discovered by the ailing Robert during a burst of lucidity whilst suffering from mental illness. But did he really discover it, or was it actually the work of his – maybe – equally brilliant daughter? And how can you prove who came up with the proof? How much more intriguing it would have been if the ending had been enigmatic – suggesting one resolution, whilst giving evidence in the other direction, so that you kept on guessing during the train ride home. But no – Mr Auburn makes it very clear in the final scene exactly who it was that came up with the proof and frankly I was disappointed.

Mariah Gale’s Catherine has a very convincing abrasiveness when dealing with characters or subjects she doesn’t like and her mood swings are very well portrayed, shoutiness aside. However, we both felt much more in tune with Emma Cunniffe’s performance as the bossy sister Claire, determined to get her own way despite a pretext of caring about her sister’s well-being. She gave a great performance of controlled exasperation and bullying. Jamie Parker breathed as much life into the role of Hal as possible and was immensely watchable as usual. Matthew Marsh, who we enjoyed in The Last of the Haussmans, brought depth and understanding to the difficult role of Robert.

Not a bad production by any means, but sadly we both came away from this with feelings of general dissatisfaction.

P.S. Please, Menier, could you put the heating on? That auditorium was freezing! Mrs C kept her Danish High-Tog jacket on throughout the whole show and the man next to her was huddled in overcoat and scarf! When he nodded off we weren’t sure if it was boredom or hypothermia.

Review – Mr Whatnot, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 5th & 6th April 2013

Posted on by

About a hundred years ago, gentle reader, when I was but a lean and callow youth (well, not particularly lean), I was trying to put together a thesis about the withdrawal of stage censorship in the UK in 1968. This was long before the advent of emails and Google, so I wrote letters to many splendid dramatists of the day to ask them if they’d ever had a run-in with the censor. One of those to whom I wrote was Sir Alan Ayckbourn (although he was plain Alan in those days). He kindly responded by saying that he was (and I quote) “in those days a fledgling dramatist as it were and never wrote anything remotely worth censoring”.

Certainly his “Mr Whatnot”, which first saw the light of day in 1963 and was barely heard of again after its disastrous brief London run in 1964, doesn’t grapple with any of the meaty subjects of its illustrious contemporaries. Pinter’s Homecoming, Orton’s Entertaining Mr Sloane, for example, you would have thought were from a completely different era. So reviving this early Ayckbourn is a fascinating experiment in showing a perhaps ignored side of the sixties drama scene.

I knew nothing about the play in advance, other than the fact that it had been a flop, which is something you rarely associate with Ayckbourn. I was, however, impressed with the fact that it was being directed by Cal McCrystal, whose CV includes the physical comedy direction of the wonderful One Man Two Guvnors. Alas Mrs Chrisparkle and I were away for much of March travelling round South East Asia (blog posts will appear in due course, I trust) so we missed all the excitement of the opening of this production, and in fact just managed to get back home in time to see it on its final Friday night. We enjoyed it so much, that the next day we actually booked to see it again, at the matinee, and took Lady Duncansby along as a surprise treat. I don’t think, in 45 years of theatregoing, I’ve ever gone back to see the same production so rapidly. I also can’t think of another play where the eponymous hero doesn’t say a word. Godot doesn’t count because he never appears; Joe Egg (as in A Day in the Death of…) is a mute child throughout apart from when she skips onto the stage to introduce the interval. If you can think of one, please let me know!

At first, I wasn’t sure I was going to enjoy it, as it presents itself as something so different from “your average play” (whatever that might be). We are introduced to the piano tuner, who goes through his usual domestic morning chores of making a cuppa and attending to his pussycat. This person is, we discover later, Mr Whatnot; a man who does everything in mime, to a range of informative sound effects. Once Mr Whatnot has settled down with his morning paper, we meet the upper class residents and guests of Craddock Grange – and it was at this point that I began to worry a little. They were all very stereotype characters (lord, lady, posh girl, wet fish boyfriend, hearty country lady) but without the stereotype set of an elaborate drawing room/country mansion – you feel that the set of The Mousetrap would be perfect for it. But as the silliness of the play kicks in, you realise that the strength of the production is in the way the audience’s imagination fills in all the gaps, and that the largely blank stage is vital to its success. By the time the lisping toffee-nosed Cecil was getting excited about the sight of “duckth” in the pond I was in seventh heaven of comic entertainment.

The show has so many experimental aspects that really excite me in the theatre. I love the way it breaks the fourth wall; it has elements of burlesque, the plot goes completely off tangent a couple of times into ridiculous flights of fancy and then gets brought back sharply to reality (such as it is); and all this is in the context of a very simple comic story of an outsider wreaking havoc in a domestic environment. There’s not an ounce of cynicism, harshness or sadness in the plot; it’s simply an experiment in finding the comic light and wallowing in it.

Every member of the cast puts in a delightful performance. Liz Crowther’s Lady Slingsby-Craddock is a marvellously comic blend of the refined and the randy, and the way she gets dragged and spun around on the floor is almost balletic! Russell Dixon as his Lordship has immaculate comic timing, and can extend a belly laugh for ages with just one resentful glance at a misbehaving family member. The scene where he merely utters a four-letter word is comic genius simply because of its terrific shock value.

Antonia Kinlay plays Amanda, the rather sweetly thick heiress to the Slingsby-Craddock estate, and she’s superb. She really gets the 60s vibe in her appearance and trendy dancing, and is delightfully provocative to the smitten Mr Whatnot. Her awful beau, Cecil, is played by Charles Hunt and he makes a brilliant priggish spoilt brat of public school idiot.

Flick Ferdinando (what a splendid name) is hilarious as the back-slapping tweedy lady, feverishly competitive at tennis and with no inhibitions where it comes to afternoon tea – and also as the bottom-swinging, flamenco dancing maid; and George Keeler’s performances as all the other minor characters are full of wonderful physical comic business and he invests them all with their own special individuality.

But Juanma Rodriguez as Mint (or Mr Whatnot) has to take the plaudits for his incredible performance. His face is so expressive and his physical comedy so inspired that you simply can’t stop watching him. You could say there is a similarity to Mr Bean – only to an extent though, because Mr Rodriguez’ performance never strays into the grotesque and is always completely believable. You also (well I did at least) really identify yourself with him, and want him to succeed in all his little subversive plans to get the girl. Technically faultless on both performances we saw, his bio in the programme suggests he normally works in Spain, but I really hope we get to see him again in the UK.

It would be a tragedy if this wonderful production were never to see the light of day again. It was a privilege to see it.

Review – Screaming Blue Murder, Underground at the Derngate, Northampton, 8th March 2013

Posted on by

This is turning out to be one of the most successful Screaming Blue Murder seasons we’ve witnessed, both from the point of view of the number of bums on seats – lots – and of the quality of the comedy on offer. This week we had two comics we had seen before plus a new one and also a new compere.

The new compere was Paddy Lennox and he was terrific. A last minute stand-in for Dan Evans, he was full of attack and had a very warm Irish personality which he used to great effect. He was superb bouncing comic ideas off the front row characters, and generally he had some great material. He didn’t shy away from the ridiculous but all his stories were totally believable, which helps you identify with him. We’d really like to see him again sometime.

Our first act was also new to us, Paul Ricketts. He has a very nice unhurried charm and a great story-telling ability, with the result that he literally had the audience in the palm of his hand. Intelligent, thought-provoking material that was still very funny and a perfect opener for the evening.

Next up was Meryl O’Rourke, who we’ve seen once as an act and once as an MC. She was on extremely good form, with some excellent material about sex and motherhood, but mainly about sex. She ratcheted the energy levels up quite a bit with a lot of high octane comedy and it was an extremely funny set.

Our final act was Christian Reilly who we saw over two years ago, doing more or less the same act but it’s absolutely brilliant. A man with a guitar, his material is based on musical pastiches, funny voices and guitar trickery and it all works amazingly well. Even when you don’t know the original song he is lampooning, it’s still really funny. We loved him, and so did the audience. I’ve never heard that amount of whooping and cheering for an act here like that. Definitely the best reaction from a crowd in the five years we’ve been coming here. Simply superb.

A really successful night – one of those surprisingly rare occasions when the energy and humour levels continued to increase as the evening went on. All too often the second act isn’t as good as the first, or the third act isn’t as good as the second. This time the recipe was faultless. The perfect comedy night out.

Review – The Book of Mormon, Prince of Wales Theatre, 2nd March 2013

Posted on by

You know that thing when there is a huge crackle of anticipation in a theatre before it starts? You can find it in abundance at the moment at the Prince of Wales where The Book of Mormon is currently previewing. We saw the first Saturday matinee preview, so I guess there may still be some tweaks ahead, but to be honest I couldn’t see anything that needed tweaking.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s the first time I’ve been to the Prince of Wales in many years and I was absolutely stunned at how beautifully it has been renovated. It was originally built in 1937 and has had a full Art Deco makeover. The bar at the back of the stalls is sensibly massive, and how pleasing it is to see it fully staffed with at least six hard-working people. The toilet provision is much more plentiful than you’d find in the average theatre. And the prices of drinks and merchandise were, I thought, remarkably reasonable. Every single member of staff that we talked to was jolly, friendly, polite and helpful. What a fantastically well-run theatre!

The Book of Mormon comes to London with a happy history already behind it, having collected no fewer than nine Tony awards in New York. Written by the irreverent team of Trey Parker and Matt Stone, of South Park fame, and Robert Lopez of Avenue Q, it’s not hard to predict the level of humour and zaniness that will fill the theatre. If anything, it’s far funnier than I expected, because it has none – well, very little – of the grotesqueness of South Park and the stereotypes depicted are actually rather endearing. It’s also less cruel than I had expected, and it has a rewardingly happy ending – all apart from the poor guy who gets shot halfway through. To say it’s irreverent is an understatement; and it is chock-full of subject matter that many people could find extremely offensive; but it is all done with a lightness of touch so that your only reaction is to laugh your socks off; and anything else that isn’t tied down. This really is intensive care funny. Imagine a cleaner-cut version of Jerry Springer The Opera and you’re somewhere in the right area. It goes without saying that it’s shamelessly non-PC; and it’s superbly staged throughout with great sets, lighting and costumes.

If you don’t want to know the story, skip this paragraph, although I’m only really giving you the introduction. Elders are getting paired off to go and spread the word of Mormon on doorsteps around the world. Our hero (or is he?) Elder Price is looking forward to partnering a regular guy just like himself and hitting the joyous streets of Orlando; instead he is paired off with our other hero (or is he?) Elder Cunningham, a needy nerdy fantasist with no mates, and they’re sent to Uganda. Things don’t go entirely to plan – there are no doorbells on the mud huts for one thing – and our heroes join the other Elders already in town in completely failing to make any conversions. But things turn around… and a bizarre success story awaits. I won’t tell you any more as I don’t want to ruin it for you.

If laughter is the best policy, making tickets available for this show on the National Health would be top of every party’s manifesto. Within ten seconds of curtain up I started laughing, and I barely stopped for the next two and a half hours – excepting the interval, where I stopped laughing long enough to enjoy a Pinot Grigio. After you’ve experienced the first number, “Hello!” you’ll find that you never, ever say the word “hello” again with the same intonation as before. There’s only one way to say it – bright eyed and bushy tailed and with the enthusiasm of a zealot door to door salesman. What the show does brilliantly is to lampoon the more ridiculous ideas of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (every religion has some ridiculous ideas) and make you the audience member step back and ask yourself, “looking at this objectively, could you really believe in all this?” It also shows how religions can get created and develop, and even how a new prophet can be realised. So actually, through the method of humour, it makes some pretty hard-hitting points about the nature of religion.

The cast are a complete joy from start to finish. Gavin Creel, who was great when we saw him in the revival of Hair a couple of years ago, plays Elder Price and he looks absolutely perfect for it – you can’t imagine anyone more bright, clean, and shiny for the role. Mr Creel has a great stage presence and a superb singing voice; he reminds me a little of what a showbiz Greg Rusedski would look like. He also takes Casey Nicholaw’s already amusing and quirky choreography and makes a terrific meal out of it – dancing incredibly athletically and show-offishly, slightly mad dad style, thereby making him look just a little more ridiculous. Elder Price is a bit of a louse in many respects, but because Mr Creel is so likeable on stage you still warm to the character despite his faults.

Likeable in a completely different way is the hopeless Elder Cunningham, played hilariously by Jared Gertner, a little mop-head of neuroses who just wants to be loved, and is thrilled to be best-buddied with the charismatic Elder Price. With his super comic timing and fantastic facial expressions it’s a performance of comedy genius. At odds with his appearance, Mr Gertner is nevertheless a fantastic song-and-dance man which really shines through his performance. Together with Mr Creel their partnership is the classic “Odd Couple”, straight guy/comic guy and it works brilliantly.

There’s also a fantastic performance from Stephen Ashfield as Elder McKinley, head of the Ugandan mission. The missionaries already there have a simple way of coping with life’s difficulties and any internal torments they might have – they just switch it off, like a light, and there’s a brilliant song to illustrate it. Mr Ashfield’s portrayal of a guy occasionally drifting into his natural gayness and then switching it back off again is just hilarious, and he really shines in the Broadway-style big numbers. There’s also an incredible coup de theatre in “Turn it off” when the lights go out – I don’t know how they do it, but it takes your breath away. The huge roar of appreciation at curtain call for Mr Ashfield said it all.

Alexia Khadime plays Nabulungi, the village girl who decides there might be something in this Mormonism. She gives a stunning, tender performance, sings with heart and clarity and very nicely underplays the comedy of her role. She’s quite heart-melting too. Chris Jarman, who was excellent in last year’s Comedy of Errors, is terrific as the ogre General who rules the area with an iron fist and instruments of torture. His hilarious appearance in the final scene completely stops the show. And I really liked Tyrone Huntley, who was very funny in the UK tour of Sister Act, as the hopeless Doctor with an embarrassing medical problem. I’ll stop mentioning cast members now, but they were all absolutely first class.

This ought to run for years and years. If you’re not easily offended, I couldn’t recommend it more strongly. I do hope we get to see it again some time. One of the funniest shows I have ever seen – possibly the funniest. A must-see.

Review – Harry Hill, Sausage Time, Derngate, Northampton, 7th March 2013

Posted on by

I thought I’d book to see Harry Hill because we normally enjoy TV Burp, and his voiceovers on You’ve Been Framed are usually pretty good. This is his first stand-up for six or so years, so it was more out of curiosity than anything else that we booked. A packed audience at the Derngate obviously did the same, with all ages from 8 to 80 and beyond represented. The lady to my right hooted with laughter all the way through the show, the man to Mrs Chrisparkle’s left similarly guffawed intensely throughout, so Harry Hill was definitely doing something right.

However, at the interval, Mrs C turned to me and said, “I thought he would be more…” and she couldn’t quite find the word. “Witty?” I ventured. The penny dropped – we settled on witty. Harry Hill’s humour is extraordinarily physical and surreal; a surrealism that I had never fully comprehended from his TV appearances. I quite appreciate surrealism – I love that lobster telephone sculpture thing of Dali, for example. Mrs C isn’t so keen. But we would have both enjoyed this show more if he had featured more word play and traditional comic routines, and less cavorting and silly noises. If you’re into cavorting and silly noises, you’re going to love Sausage Time. I guess we’re just a bit more cerebral.

One thing’s for sure: Mr Hill puts an inordinate amount of effort into this show. He is all guns blazing, full steam ahead, from the very start to the very finish, and the creativity and imagination behind it is admirable. He has some joke threads – offering ice-creams to the front row, reflecting on famous people’s surnames, skipping round the stage like a dog (not that dogs skip) that sometimes work, and sometimes fall short. It made me realise that in some respects he is a modern day Max Wall, putting his surprisingly flexible body through some amusingly contorted paces. Don’t get me wrong, there were some great moments throughout the evening – for example, he did an act where he translates a well known song chosen from the audience into Tongan. That made me laugh a lot, despite its innate silliness. He did some routines where he traced the careless behaviour of members of the public on the street to some catastrophic outcome in a hospital or similar – very clever and very funny. There’s a brilliant little routine about Dignitas – no, really. There was a nice – and highly surreal – transition from a slapstick cavorting scene into a Shakespeare scene. And of course, the evening ends with the sausage, which in its own totally bizarre way, was very funny and quite mesmerising. I shall say no more.

It was a bit unfortunate that the people he picked on in the front row to participate in a little fun-and-gamery were not really up for it. They both worked in Care in the Community, about which Mr Hill decided he couldn’t make fun, they looked very staid and uncomfortable at being on stage and being asked to do silly things (which they largely didn’t do) and what could have been a very funny sequence ended up being a bit embarrassing. It should have sent us into the interval on a high but Mrs C rightly felt it was a damp squib.

The surrealism picks up in the second half, with the arrival of a man (I recognised him as Dave Thompson) who attacks Harry on the mattress, and returns every so often in a kind of satin one-piece swimsuit; another man I didn’t recognise in a leotard crooning to the audience, and the band changing from being “The Caterers” to “The Harrys” – in other words, dressed like Mr Hill. Add to that three puppets and a paddling pool in which Mr Hill gets very wet – I’m sure you get the picture. There was a brief Q & A session at the end, the prospect of which always makes my heart sink, but in fact it was quite funny because there were just two or three questions, and it developed into a scripted finale which wrapped it up nicely.

So if surrealism and slapstick is your thing, you’ll love this. Plenty of the audience did. If excessive silly noises get on your nerves, well you might find it a little trying at times. On reflection, we were probably not sufficiently on his wavelength fully to appreciate his act. However, I certainly did appreciate the ingenuity and effort behind the show and I did, on the whole, enjoy it. If you think you’re a perfect match for this kind of humour, you’ll have a ball. It’s touring to the end of March and then goes to the Hammersmith Apollo. No need to take your own sausage.

Review – Spring Awakening, Royal and Derngate’s Youth Theatre’s Musical Company, Underground at the Derngate, Northampton, 1st March 2013

Posted on by

Frank Wedekind’s original play of Spring Awakening was written in 1891 but didn’t see light of day on the British stage until after the 1968 Theatres Act lifted the requirement for plays to be subject to the Lord Chamberlain’s red pen before performance. Are you wondering why it was banned? It was probably to do with its representations of homosexuality, masturbation, sado-masochism, abortion and suicide. Before 1968, you’d have been lucky to get just one of those past the censor – but together that bunch of bad boys would have created one big heart attack for the Examiner of Plays.

I’ve not read the play, but I was very keen to see Steven Sater and Duncan Sheik’s musical adaptation that was so successful on Broadway, but that fared so poorly in the UK, despite winning four Olivier awards. I remember feeling a severe disappointment that it had closed before I got the chance to see it. Therefore I was delighted to find out that the local Youth Theatre group attached to the Royal and Derngate had chosen Spring Awakening as their latest production.

I will be honest with you, gentle reader. Mrs Chrisparkle and I have seen some shocking amateur productions. Mrs C still bears emotional scars and even has horror flashbacks over a couple of them. I had faith that the local group would be good – the Community Actors Group here did an excellent Our Country’s Good a couple of years ago – and I thought that Spring Awakening itself would probably be entertaining enough to get us through the evening unscathed even if the production wasn’t that great.

Well I was half right. It’s a really moving, daring but highly enjoyable musical with some excellent songs and a gripping story. But what I hadn’t predicted was that the young performers in the company would be so able, so convincing, so assured and so watchable. The combination of the keen and talented young company and a bold, high quality musical turned it into a superb evening of theatre.

It was held in the Underground, which is a very useful space for a small production like this. It was staged in traverse, with two rows of seats on either side of a long narrow stage. Stumps and branches came up from the floor and overhung the ceiling, and the stage area itself had a very ornate branch pattern on the floor so that the feeling of forest permeated the space. At one end sat the four musicians under the leadership of Simon Egerton, who all played the score with clarity and emotion, and were the perfect musical support to the performers on stage.

The story concerns a group of young people in this 19th century German village where morals are strict and there’s little scope for self-expression. And they’re all feeling those teenage urges. Moritz feels anxious and guilty about his fantasy dreams but Melchior, the charismatic boy in the class (there’s always one) explains them for him in an essay, which Moritz devours. Georg is powerlessly enamoured with his music teacher’s bust and Hanschen gets to grips with his longing (literally) whilst hiding from his mother. The girls are even more innocent. Wendla, who is frustrated by not knowing about the birds and the bees, and whose mother refuses to explain it to her, meets up with Melchior and a relationship (of sorts) is formed. There’s a scene where Wendla asks Melchior to beat her because she knows one of her friends gets the same kind of abuse from her father, and you feel that Wendla just wants to experience some physical stimulus to prove to herself she’s alive. Reluctantly Melchior complies, and it’s a fascinating and shocking insight into how a sado-masochistic fetish can develop. Eventually Melchior and Wendla have sex without her really knowing what is happening to her. Is it rape? You decide. From there it’s a downward spiral, with Moritz failing school (undeservingly, through the devious manipulation of the headteacher) and subsequently committing suicide; and, with Melchior sent to a correctional school, Wendla shows signs of pregnancy, resulting in her mother taking her to a back street abortionist, from which Wendla dies as a consequence. It’s an extremely moving story but strangely not depressing. The characters have such a life force about them that you feel that mere death won’t hold them back, and indeed the spirits of both Moritz and Wendla return to join in the final choruses. Why on earth did this show did not last longer in London?

Considering the young age of the cast, there are some performances of extraordinary depth and maturity. Brett Mason as Melchior has a superb stage presence and an amazing ability to act while singing. Whenever his character began a song, Brett Mason projected a brightness and a conviction that many professional actors would envy. His self-discovery of a predilection for sadism was horrific but fantastically well done. His reaction when he discovers Wendla’s grave and realises what has happened in his absence actually made both Mrs C and I shed a tear – now that’s impressive. He sang really strongly throughout the whole show, but he carried off the disarmingly funny song “Totally f***ed” with particular aplomb – and superb support from the rest of the cast.

Wendla was played by Nicole Read who was completely convincing as this child who is almost a woman, desperate to know more of life and to break free of the stifling family environment. She was heart-breaking in the way she blindly stumbled into the path of the abortionist, ignorant of the dangers and the repercussions of the act. She was scarily vulnerable in the sado-masochism scene, and to cap it all, is an excellent singer too. It was Wendla’s friend Martha who told all the other girls about how her father took her belt to her, and Bethany Coulson played this scene superbly movingly, suspecting there might be something wrong about her father’s behaviour but believing she was equally guilty; being scared by her own honesty and fearing for her own future; it was another tear-jerking moment.

Matthew Parsons as Moritz also gave a superb performance, being picked on in that opening Latin lesson scene (why were Latin lessons always so terrifying? It brought back horrible memories for me), desperate to learn more about sex from Melchior, sweating under the pressure of school work, having a bit of a thing for Melchior’s mum (a very mature and enjoyable performance by Katy Sturgess), refusing the chance of an escape with Ilse despite his better judgment, and with a final resignation feeling he had no option but to take his own life. He delivered all these scenes with immaculate honesty and sensitivity. When he actually put the revolver in his mouth and pulled the trigger, a man next to me let out a horrified “Oh my God” – that’s how much the audience believed in and cared about what was happening.

Stephen Bennett as Hanschen brought out all the humour of the role during his masturbation scene – producing lots of embarrassed giggling from the audience, not surprisingly – and his scenes with Ernst, his inamorato, very convincingly played by Michael Ryan, were extraordinarily mature and touching. There’s a scene where all the young characters are in church, trying desperately hard to restrain themselves from giving in to their physical desires – visually a very effective moment. Hanschen sits behind Ernst and Stephen Bennett’s agony at simply not being able to touch Ernst on the back was incredibly well done. The eventual seduction scene was very tender and when he finally takes Ernst’s hand and leads him offstage it felt like quite a triumph.

I also really enjoyed the performance of Hannah Saxton, both as the bitch of a Latin teacher Frau Sonnenstich, and as the free spirit Ilse, nourished by her Bohemian lifestyle. When Ilse cannot convince Moritz to spend time with her, her sadness and annoyance is very believable. She’s also a very expressive singer, and she sang “Blue Wind” with great purity and delicacy. And I should also mention Louis Jordan’s Georg very amusingly goggling at Fräulein Grossebustenhalter’s assets. But it’s an extremely fine ensemble performance and everyone contributed superbly well to the whole evening’s entertainment.

The performers conveyed a level of dramatic tension and conviction acting that was better than some professional productions we have seen. This excellent young cast is a credit both to the Royal and Derngate and their town. It was only on for three nights – I hope you were able to see it. I’d really like to see this production again!

Review – The 39 Steps, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 27th February 2013

Posted on by

It’s always a good sign when the Royal is virtually full on a Wednesday night. The 39 Steps has been packing them in at the Criterion Theatre for at least six years now, and if the reaction from the audience in the Royal is anything to go by, there’s no reason it shouldn’t carry on indefinitely.

I’ve not read John Buchan’s original book – or indeed seen the film – but I would guess Patrick Barlow’s adaptation (he of the National Theatre of Brent) is an extremely loose one. It’s a 1930s spy story – our hero John Hannay has to save the country by preventing the secret of the 39 Steps from leaving our shores. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know what the secret is – and he is followed the length and breadth of the country by the police who think he has committed murder – but he hasn’t. And if the police arrest him and get in the way of his trying to save the nation, well, dash it all, it wouldn’t be worth thinking about, would it? And that’s just the start. It’s a maniacally silly set up, beautifully lampooning the styles of the era and the whole “B” movie syndrome; and it’s interspersed with some wonderful accents – stiff upper lip British, over-the-top faux Scottish, and Marlene-Dietrich-German. By the way, all four actors speak with impeccable clarity – not a word is garbled, which is something I always appreciate. And it’s all very funny.

The talented cast of four play 139 roles apparently! The way they interchange is extraordinary. In some scenes they actually swap roles with each other as the scene progresses, which is hysterical. The whole pace of the show is amazing; it’s really fast and full on, gathering an exciting momentum all the time, and all the cast work together seamlessly like a well-oiled machine. They also recreate a variety of sets and locations with just a handful of props – a few suitcases, a door, a window frame, a very jolly toy train and with the help of a very lively lighting and sound plot.

Richard Ede plays Richard Hannay and he’s brilliant for the role. He’s suave and sophisticated, but not too much – so that he can still have the Mickey taken out of him. He’s full of derring-do and heroic charm, which makes it all the funnier when he gets into ludicrous scrapes from which he inevitably bounces back. Both Mrs Chrisparkle and I thought he gave a funnier and more convincing performance than the actor we saw play the part in the West End a few years ago.

Charlotte Peters is also great playing all the female roles, from the alluring Germanic vamp of Annabella Schmidt to the not-so-timid-after-all wife of the austerely religious Scottish crofter; and of course she is directly involved with the happy ending. You wouldn’t expect it not to have a happy ending, would you? The rest of the cast are played by Tony Bell and Gary Mackay and they dovetail perfectly with each other. I can’t go in to too much detail about these performances because it is the inventive nature of the play and the way it is staged that provides all the entertainment – and you wouldn’t want me to spoil it for you. But I loved the train scenes, the Mister Memory scenes (am I right, sir?) and the Scottish hoteliers.

Huge fun, lashings of tongue-in-cheek, and a superb ensemble performance. It’s touring the whole country until July, so if you can’t get to London, this show can come to you. The whole audience were in stitches all night. Highly recommended.