Review – Mixed Bill Comedy Megashow, Comedy Crate at the Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 13th April 2024

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What’s that phrase about little acorns and big oaks? It was seven years ago when we attended our first Comedy Crate Weekender, held in local Northampton pubs; even then they were getting top quality acts to perform. Now they’ve really hit the big time with two big shows over two nights – Friday at the Milton Keynes Theatre (in collaboration with the Comedy Cow team) and now Saturday in the imposing Derngate auditorium, where most of its 1500 capacity seats were sold. And what a night it was…

Our host for the evening was the deceptively hilarious Boothby Graffoe – I say deceptively, because he comes on stage like he’s dressed for a night in front of the telly, and you ask yourself if this chap is ready for the job ahead – and boy, is he ready. Fantastically self-deprecating, he mines brilliant humour out of his guitar and mouth organ without ever overdoing it; he’ll offer us half a song and leave it hanging with lyrics that deliberately finish early because there’s nowhere else to go with them, and it’s simply side-splitting. He’s adapted one of Tom Lehrer’s patter songs listing loads of countries rattled off at tremendous speed – and then tops it off with a devastating final line; and even his parting words at the end of the show about where you could follow him had us in hysterics. Great work, Mr G.

First out was Marcus Brigstocke; I’ve always loved his comedy, but the last time I saw him he threw a Babybel at me – it was at his Cheese and Whine show at the Edinburgh Fringe and I guess I just whined too much. No matter, all is forgiven, and he gave us a great set featuring concerns about the Royal Family, the difference between news coverage now and in The Good Old Days, and a truly hilarious segment about asking idiots to comment on current affairs: watch out, The Jeremy Vine Show. Packed with terrific observations and quite a few funny voices, it’s intelligent, powerful, thought-provoking comedy that lands every time. A superb start to the night.

Next up was Josie Long, whose Tender show we saw four years ago on tour, a winning and hilarious look at pregnancy and motherhood, mixed with some irresistible left-wing lambasts. Now, she’s still offering comic observations of family life with some very clever and recognisable set-ups. Her wry, quieter style of comedy possibly suits a more intimate environment than the vast Derngate stage and didn’t lead to quite the same level of belly-laughter that the others achieved. Nevertheless, it was an enjoyable set with plenty of great lines.

Our mega-headliner was Omid Djalili, whom we’ve seen many times and never fails to delight. The man irradiates stage presence and had us in the palm of his hand within seconds. He has an unerring ability to lead you up a garden path with a story only to whip it around and take you somewhere completely different. Great use of his own physicality, with his fantastic ear for accents and the power of intonation; but what also comes across is his essential kindness, nowhere seen more clearly than in his valedictory observations about the humour of the late Barry Cryer and Sean Lock. He’s not afraid to tackle very serious subjects head-on; at least twice he discussed with appropriate sobriety the appalling killing that’s taking place in Israel and Gaza, but even then he manages to rein it back and cloak it in a comedy setting, without comprising either the seriousness of the situation or the humour. A truly skilful comedian, and he sent us all home with an uplifted spring in our step.

A great night of comedy. Nice people at the Comedy Crate, can we do it again please?

Review – Moby Dick, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 10th April 2024

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The history of literature is peppered with books that everyone recognises and everyone thinks they know about but hardly anyone has read. New Yorker Herman Melville wrote many works of fiction, including the posthumously published Billy Budd, Sailor, now much better known as an opera by Benjamin Britten. But none has stayed in the public’s mind more firmly than Moby Dick, published in 1851 and today recognised as one of the Great American Novels. I confess I haven’t read it fully, only dipped into it; to be honest, Simple8’s production in association with the Royal and Derngate is the closest I’ve ever been to understanding what this whale of a tale is all about.

CompanyCall me Ishmael, our narrator confides in us at the start of both the book and the play, instantly setting up an informal connection with his audience. As the only – spoiler alert, sorry – survivor of the Pequod’s final voyage, we trust him to tell us the truth. He says he loves life at sea and needs to escape there occasionally – in modern parlance, for the sake of his mental health. Yet as we follow his journey from sleeping on an inn floor, befriending Queequog the whaler, and encouraging the owners of the Pequod to let the two of them join the ship, we realise – no pun intended – that he is indeed a fish out of water. He has much to learn about the ways of the waves, which helps us to identify with him, as we see the story unfold through his eyes.

CompanyMelville wrote Moby Dick in an eclectic style. Formal, floral, and fanciful, but also erudite, educational, and almost anarchic. On the face of it, it’s a simple story about a man taking revenge on a whale for having bitten his leg off. However, it’s not a conventional adventure story in the way you might consider, say, Treasure Island to be. Yes, there is adventure within the plot; as there is also the peril of the high seas, the terror of a whale attack, and the inevitable fear of loss of life. And the final few chapters of the book are packed with those kind of Boy’s Own Comic thrills.

Beware AhabBut this isn’t the book’s overall purpose. Much has been written about the allegorical nature of the book and its religious significance, which can best be understood through the Biblical names of the characters involved. Ahab, beware Ahab, warns the Captain’s chief mate, Starbuck, and that seems to me to be the ultimate message of the story.  Captain Ahab is so committed to killing Moby Dick that all common sense flies out of the window; he is prepared to risk everything, including the lives of all the men under his command, for that one, selfish, quest. Man is often his own worst enemy, and this is a perfect illustration of that sad truth.

Grand sceneJesse Jones’ production of Sebastian Armesto’s adaptation excels at the storytelling. Ishmael’s experiences are relayed to us with direct simplicity and clarity, and we can easily understand the sequence of events that leads us to the final fatal scene. The inclusion of sea shanties adds to the nautical flavour of the piece and reflects Melville’s own use of songs as part of the book. Johanna Town’s lighting for the production is perfectly judged and adds enormously to our appreciation of the show. The set design by Kate Bunce is delightfully minimalistic and it’s extraordinary how you can conjure up a convincing impression of a ship with just a few planks, ropes and steel frames. All in all, the staging looks terrific.

Queequog and the restThere are some great performances too. The whole cast work together as an ensemble superbly well, many of them taking to their musical instruments at the same time, appearing as many diverse characters. Mark Arends plays Ishmael with an honest and intimate nature, opening up as he gains confidence in his surroundings. His developing friendship with Queequog – a warm and generous performance by Tom Swale – is elegantly and beautifully expressed. Guy Rhys plays Ahab as not so much a tyrant but more a man fixated and determined on his own course of action. Amongst the other roles, I loved James Newton’s brief appearance as the English Captain Boomer, but everyone does an excellent job.

CompanyHowever, for me, there is one big problem with this production. Whether it is in pursuit of Melville’s unusual writing style or the allegorical nature of its meaning I am not sure, but for a story that involves mortal danger, thrilling chase, and a ruthless environment, it all comes across as terribly safe. Quiet, sometimes tentative, occasionally cosy, I felt little sense of adventure or danger. Important climactic moments feel too clean and clinical, almost as though the drama has been choreographed out of it. Even the sea shanties, superbly performed as they are – some wonderful harmonies there – lack attack and power. As a result I found it surprisingly unmoving and sedate.

ShantyMaybe I was expecting more big fish action; a 19th century Jaws this is not. It is, however, an intelligent and careful dramatisation that links closely to Melville’s original, with some excellent performances and staging. There’s a lot to appreciate here, just don’t expect much in the way of thrills. After Moby Dick swims on from these shores, the tour continues to Perth, Wilton’s Music Hall, Ipswich, Northern Stage in Newcastle, the Isles of Scilly (a most appropriate and innovative booking), Blackpool, York, Malvern and ending in Oxford mid-June.

Production photos by Manuel Harlan

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – Power of Sail, Menier Chocolate Factory, London, 7th April 2024

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Do you remember that rather delicious moment when the students at Brunel University walked out of a meeting when Katie Hopkins got up to speak? That was a perfect way of allowing “free speech” whilst showing one’s contempt for the speaker at the same time. Paul Grellong’s Power of Sail, first seen in the US in 2019, and now making its UK debut, centres on Charles Nichols, a Harvard professor who wants to invite a Holocaust-denying white nationalist to a debate at that illustrious university, thereby upholding the fine tradition of freedom of speech, but then intends to destroy him in argument and make him look like the pathetic wretch he is.

It’s pretty much a given that freedom of speech is a supremely important right. Equally, with free speech comes responsibility. For example, I could say that Power of Sail is a load of old tosh (it isn’t) and then Mr Grellong could come back at me and say that I don’t know my luff from my leech, and that’s all perfectly acceptable. However when it comes to hate-based politics, those rights become somewhat blurred. Certainly Professor Nichols’ students are up in arms against his proposal. So is the Dean, who fears the repercussions. So is his young protégé Professor Forrest. But Nichols is determined to see this through; freedom of speech must have its way. A risky proposal for – on the face of it – such a virtuous objective.

Mr Grellong has structured the play in six scenes, rather like a time version of a boomerang. The first three scenes take us through mid-morning, mid-afternoon and late evening on the same day. Scene Four takes place the following morning and ends with a big revelation that surprises and shocks us. Scenes Five and Six double back on themselves, showing us what happened earlier the previous evening and finally earlier that afternoon. This may sound like a bizarre way of going about things, but the structure does enable missing pieces of the jigsaw to be fitted in, so that by the end of the play we have a much fuller understanding of the motivations of all the characters that otherwise we would have missed if we had just seen the events in linear time. However, a side effect of this structure is that the play ends with a whimper more than a bang. It’s a well-intentioned, character-driven whimper that necessarily makes sense of the whole story; but it’s a whimper nonetheless.

The programme tells us that this production is the result of a play that was written years ago, left in a drawer and then more recently revisited, stripped back, with scenes and characters removed, to leave a sparser and hopefully more truthful and hard-hitting version. There’s no interval – my pet hate – yet there’s a perfect opportunity for a cliffhanger moment that could separate the play into two acts, whilst still retaining its time structure (I won’t say what it is because it’s an important moment of plot development). I suspect the play has been pared back a little too much; the main characters are fascinating creations, and it would have been good to hear more of what they say for themselves. Strangely, scene two, set on a railway station platform, offers little in the way of plot development and I confess I found that scene just trod water. When you assess the play as a whole at the end you realise the scene is not completely pointless, but I can’t help but think the writer could have edited it back more, whilst filling out some of the others. That said, overall it’s a very entertaining script, with some excellent high tension scenes as well as a lot of nicely pitched comedy.

Director Dominic Dromgoole entices some superb performances out of his cast which keep our attention throughout the show, despite the distraction caused by immensely clunky and laborious scene changes that seem to take ages and really add very little to the production – I would have preferred much less set design and for the audience to use their imagination more. At the heart of the play is a terrific performance by Julian Ovenden as Nichols. Bristling with charisma, you can easily imagine how his students are in awe of him; full of bonhomie tinged with just a hint of academic arrogance and the self-satisfaction that he is naturally always right about everything. And like all such people, when you chip away at everything they believe about themselves, you can sometimes reveal a void underneath.

Tanya Franks is also excellent as the Dean, Amy Katz, a woman juggling many roles and appearing to be thoroughly decent in all of them. Ms Franks plays her as a tough cookie and a voice of reason; but of course, we all have our weaknesses. And the always reliable Giles Terera delivers a strong and confident performance as Baxter Forrest, the media-wise, television presenting professor, who has an unfailing ability to smell a rat and a superb way of expressing unpleasant home truths with enviable eloquence.

There’s excellent support from Katie Bernstein as the highly principled student Maggie who is prepared to risk everything for what she believes in, and from Georgia Landers as the FBI officer Quinn Harris, whose interviewing technique pays off in abundance. Michael Benz gives a terrific performance as Lucas, a likeable young man who seems to blunder his way through life – until you really get to know his character in the final scene. Paul Rider does his best as bartender Frank in what seems like the vestiges of a previously larger role. I’m not sure why Mr Grellong didn’t remove the role completely.

A fascinating subject for a play, and in many ways a fascinating play too, although maybe sometimes for the wrong reasons. If you take away one message from it, it’s to watch out for individuals’ motives. They may not always be what they seem. Plenty for you to talk about on the way home. Power of Sail continues at the Menier until 12th May.

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – Life of Pi, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 3rd April 2024

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I remember missing out on seeing Lolita Chakrabarti’s stage version of Yann Martel’s novel Life of Pi when it opened in Sheffield five years ago. Since then, it’s hit the West End and Broadway, garnering awards by the bucketload as it goes, and is currently nearing the final few months of its UK and Ireland tour, with a US tour on the way. You could say it’s been pretty successful! Confession time: I haven’t read the book, but I have seen the film – and I’m afraid it left both Mrs Chrisparkle and I cold. Can Max Webster’s stage production give it the magic it needs?

PiLet’s go back to basics. Sixteen year old Piscine Patel, at home in Pondicherry with a loving family who run the local zoo, can’t get enough of God. So much so that he attends temple in the morning, church in the afternoon and mosque in the evening. He’s decided to shorten his name to Pi, primarily because his schoolfriends and brother take the piscine out of his full name; but I’m sure it’s no coincidence that Pi also gives us π, the mathematical magic number that plays its part in ruling the universe – mind you, what do I know? I only just scraped Maths O Level fifty years ago.

HomeIt’s while crossing the high seas on an attempt to create a new life for themselves in Canada, accompanied by a rag-tag collection of wild animals from the zoo and the world’s surliest cook, that they are shipwrecked. All the animals eat/kill each other until only Richard Parker, the Bengal Tiger, is left; and with Pi being the lone human survivor, they’re stuck together at sea for 227 days. Unbelievable, no? But that’s the point. Life can be unbelievable sometimes, and you’d better believe it. Mrs Okamoto may think Pi is spinning a tale of deceit from his hospital bed in Mexico, but just because something seems impossible, it need not necessarily be so.  There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, etc.

ShipwreckedPiscine, of course, means swimming pool in French, so from an early age young Pi was destined to be surrounded by water. Commentators have suggested that the sea in which he gets shipwrecked represents God because it’s everywhere; others say it’s the tiger who represents God because Pi both loves and fears him (and indeed talks to him – and the tiger talks back.) Either way, it’s a fantastical story, and, at the end of the day, Pi is the epitome of a true survivor. Is it because of his faith in God? You decide.

Amazing setThe production fortunately taps in to all the exhilarating and magical aspects of the story and is a hugely engrossing two-and-a-quarter hours of visual theatricality. The combination of Tim Hatley’s set design and Tim Lutkin and Tim Deiling’s lighting design is irresistibly evocative throughout the show. The stark hospital room (reminiscent of Act Four of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake, by the way) opens up into the family Pondicherry courtyard, filled with butterflies and warmth; later the walls reveal numerous secrets as the scene transforms into the ship being tossed on the seas. The lighting is also constantly evolving and suggestive and plays a huge part in the scene-setting.

Pi and TigerAt the heart of it all, and – I think – never off stage, is Divesh Subaskaran’s Pi, a dream of a professional debut, and a performance brimming with confidence, style, vulnerability and strength. Even though (hopefully) none of us will ever face the same challenges as Pi, he makes us easily identify with his character and inside we’re cheering him on to survival. Endearing from the very start, he is the kind of performer you can’t stop watching. Surely he will have a great career ahead of him.

Tiger and PiThe other superb performance is from the actors/puppeteers who bring Richard Parker to life, an extraordinarily physical feat but also artistically riveting, as they echo precisely those terrifying tiger movements – sly and threatening, powerful but delicate in its actions. The whole cast form a true ensemble, with many of them covering several roles, but standing out for me is the great support from Lilian Tsang as the no-nonsense Mrs Okamoto, and an enjoyable comic turn from Chand Martinez as the inspirational Admiral Balbir Singh.

BoatThere’s a moment shortly before the end when Pi offers an alternative explanation of what truly happened on that shipwreck. I was reminded of Hercule Poirot proposing two solutions at the end of Murder on the Orient Express – one that could satisfy the officials; and one that was the truth. Pi gives Mrs Okamoto an account that’s less fantastical and more believable. But is it more palatable? Sometimes it’s best to trust in the unbelievable.

PiLife of Pi continues its run this week in Northampton and then moves on to Nottingham, Wolverhampton, Liverpool, Shrewsbury, Southampton, Bath, Truro, Cheltenham, Glasgow, Edinburgh and finally Salford in July. A great set, great puppetry and a superb central performance – and you’ll probably be talking about what it all meant for days.

Go TigerP. S. There is an explanation for why the tiger is called Richard Parker. I did wonder if some other parallel universe contains a moderately successful suburban accountant named Shere Khan. It would only be fair.

P. P. S. I was surprised at the effectiveness of the savagery of animal on animal violence. Remember Buckingham in your prayers.

Production photos by Johan Persson

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review –Pete Firman, TrikTok, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 15th March 2024

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Book for a Pete Firman show and you know you’re bound to have an evening of both laughter and total perplexity. His latest show, that was due to appear at the Royal and Derngate a few months ago but was postponed due to the dreaded RAAC, is two hours of Pete, alone on stage apart from when he is joined on stage by his victims, I mean, members of the audience who have volunteered to assist him, and it’s as joyful an experience as ever.

In some respects, he’s an unlikely looking showman, walking on stage without a lot of fuss, sporting a stripy T-shirt like it’s Dress Down Friday, a mass of unruly hair like an overgrown kid from The Romper Room. He has a touch of the modern day Eric Morecambe to him, and instantly garners a terrific rapport with the audience, whom he gamely insults, but we let him get away with it because he’s clearly such a nice guy.

I’ve lost count of the times when I have said to myself, I’m not going to take my eyes off his hands so that I can work out how he gets that signed card/£20 note into the zipped up part of his wallet, and once again I let myself down. In TrikTok (I see what he did there), Mr F has assembled a good dozen or so pretty much brand new tricks to astound us, ranging from the deceptively simple handkerchief that changes colour to the swinging helicopter of peril – the peril being that if in you’re in the first few rows you might get splashed with cola.

But some of his tricks truly defy everything we understand to be basic truths of life. For me the most gob-smacking moment was his moving pattern of solid wooden blocks that shatters the laws of geometry. I won’t say anymore so as not to ruin it for you – but how on Earth does he do it? It was also fun to be involved in one of his tricks, as one of three audience members who had to select a card from a pack that had been thrust to us from the stage in a bucket. Naturally, by the power of mentaltransference, he guessed which card I had picked. (Note – it wasn’t mental transference, it was a trick, and I have a tiny inkling of how he did it, but again I’ll say no more.)

Trick after trick entrances us, and the evening flies by. The tour has been so successful that extra gigs have been lined up during the summer, so if you haven’t had a chance to catch this show, you still can in Maidstone, Beccles, Andover, Middlesbrough, Barnard Castle, Chipping Norton and Darlington. A great night out – and you’ll go home buzzing with confusion!

Review – Comedy Crate at the Charles Bradlaugh, Northampton, 14th March 2024

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Another great fun night at the Charles Bradlaugh Northampton courtesy of those nice people at the Comedy Crate. You can tell the gig is going well because the show had been sold out for quite some time, and the vibe amongst the audience is always excited and fully confident of a good night ahead.

Our host for the evening was the excellent Will Duggan, who hits the ground running with his cheeky repartee and is a master of the audience-based callback. Any material he gathers from the front few rows at the beginning of the evening will inevitably return with a smart comic twist at some point later on. He got to know (as did we all, by association) Sarah the blood machine seller, Amabel whose parents couldn’t spell Annabel, and Kempton and Michael the roving school caretakers. Mr D kept the evening moving at a cracking pace and it was always a pleasure to enjoy his entr’actes.

First up was Mark Bittlestone; at first I thought he was new to us but I remembered seeing him four years ago doing a work in progress show at the Leicester Comedy Festival with comedy partner Haydn Jenkins, and they were a very entertaining combo. Mark appears to be doing more solo work now and he has a very assured and fluid style, but his only subject material was his sexuality, and after a while you rather wish he could move on and talk about something else! He occasionally adopts a strange accent (I think to suggest sarcasm) that personally I found rather alienating. That said, he had plenty of good material – the Yorkshire porn star routine is hilarious – and a warm connection with the audience, and he gave us an enjoyable start to the evening.

Next came Don Biswas, whom we saw at the Edinburgh Fringe last year; he wastes no time in explaining about his dyspraxia, autism and ADHD, all of which he uses wisely in creating some blisteringly funny observations and beautifully delivered one-liners. Through his comedy he really allows us to see inside his world, from his anger at world politics to his frustrations at still living at home aged 39. His winning persona is always upbeat and he builds a terrific rapport with the audience. As the young people of today might say – nailed it, mate.

Our headliner was Jen Brister, whom I was surprised to realise we haven’t seen since 2013, and she has grown into a complete superstar in the art of stand-up. Like Don Biswas before her, you see directly into her life, with superbly recognisable accounts of a 49-year-old woman’s experiences, and brilliant observations about getting older, and the ignominies and horrors of the menopause. All this to put up with, but she can’t quite yet cope with having to wear varifocals. We all laughed our heads off all the time she was on. It was one of those comedy sets where you go home feeling you have a better understanding of the human condition – and loads of laughs got you there.

Rob Auton at the Bradlaugh next week – we can’t go, but you should!

Review – Come From Away, Curve Theatre, Leicester, 6th March 2024

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The very welcome return of Come From Away recalls two very different but world-shattering events. First, the terrorist attack on the Twin Towers, which is the unspoken catalyst for everything that happens in the show; and second, the Covid pandemic lockdowns, which paused the run of the show in London in 2020, and interrupted everyone’s lives, enforcing months of inactivity. Two experiences that the whole world could have done without; but two experiences that have shaped our world today and continue to have long-lasting after-effects, that may never go away for generations.

Come From Away celebrates the kindness and generosity of the people of Gander, Newfoundland, who gave shelter, food and support to around 7,000 displaced people who were making their way to New York by air at the time of the attack, thereby almost doubling the population of the town. When something as mind-blowing as the terrorist attack takes place, it puts lesser problems into perspective. Gander, for instance, was in the thrust of (comparative) political turmoil as the school bus drivers were striking, and there didn’t seem to be much “give” on either side of the argument.

But when a true crisis comes along, the drivers did not hesitate to transport their new guests to whatever housing could be provided for them. The Newfoundlanders shopped until they dropped for food, toiletries and other essentials, never asking for any payment. They even gave up their barbecue grills so that hot meals could be provided. Considering there was no way all this rescue work could ever have been planned, the citizens and administration of Gander achieved a most remarkable achievement.

The show has won a series of awards across the USA, Canada and Europe, and, frankly, it’s no surprise. A superb score, vivid characters, and a story of warmth and love that is irresistible to all, this is an inspirational show, possibly comparable only to A Chorus Line in terms of its positivity (and if you know how much I love A Chorus Line, you’ll appreciate that’s high praise indeed). The comparison continues when you consider that both shows are based on the true stories and testimonies of the real characters depicted on stage; and both shows dispense with an interval to maximise the build-up of emotion and inevitable conclusion, as well as unfolding the entire show with admirable brevity.

Beowulf Boritt’s beguiling set, primarily suggestive of the Canadian Forest but adaptable to all the different locations of the show, provides generous performance space whilst housing the super-talented musicians just slightly off-stage in the wings. Within the first few minutes your feet are tapping away to Welcome to the Rock and you’re fighting hard against the temptation to burst into I Am An Islander to the annoyance of your neighbours. As song after song emerges organically from the developing plotlines, one hour forty minutes passes in an instant as you lose yourselves in this absorbingly decent and selfless community.

The new cast for this extensive UK tour are uniformly superb and dovetail each other perfectly as a true ensemble production should. What continues to astonish me is how individual actors, playing many different roles, merge in and out of their characters with a mere doff of a hat or a flick of an ankle; how they keep control of who they are playing, I have no idea! If I were to pick one name out, I’d have to pick them all out, so take it from me they are all fantastic!

I remember that I loved seeing this show at the Phoenix Theatre in 2021, but my sense is that it is even better now, with truly committed performances and a score that ages gently like a vintage port. And it truly does help you to keep things in perspective. After Leicester it continues to twenty-six further venues, ending in Salford in time for Christmas and the New Year. Snap up a ticket while you can.

Five Alive Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Miles Jupp, On I Bang, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 5th March 2024

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An evening spent in the company of Miles Jupp is always a convivial affair. We saw his Songs of Freedom tour in 2016, a delightful pot pourri of comic observations channelled through his suave gentlemanly persona, where his public school charm turned on a sixpence to deliver unexpectedly downright rude material. His new show, On I Bang, is a much more concentrated affair, telling one complete, true story: his brush with an alarming health scare in 2021.

Picture the scene: having had a pleasantly undemanding day on the set of a TV programme, delivering the words of Jed Mercurio to an eager creative team, he found himself in the unenviable position of suffering from the mother of all brain spasms – a veritable mental explosion of bright lights in his head and incapacity in his body. An undiagnosed brain tumour had started to work its magic and caused a seizure. Mr Jupp takes us through that initial horror and guides us through the next few months of his life, in hospitals, on an operating table and in recovery. And whilst he does create an atmosphere where you have a ghastly sympathy for everything he went through, it’s primarily an account of all the humorous aspects of that awful event.

Mr Jupp is a raconteur par excellence; he knows how to make an occasion out of a chat. It was good to see that he’d made an effort with his appearance – smart suit, nice pink tie, pocket handkerchief and all that; the man treats his audiences with respect, which we consequently return.  It occurred to me during the show that he is rather like a heterosexual Julian Clary; full of rather barbed sideways comments, delivered with deliberate, disarming charm, elegant savagery, and frequently fabulous.

He is a master of the passive aggressive remark, which he makes with effortless ease about all manner of people and things, certainly including his own kith and kin. He’s clearly in a happy place with his family, yet he shares his perils about having five children, a wife with a tendency to clutter, a mother who doesn’t know when to stop, and a father-in-law who always knows best.

His exquisitely structured monologue creates a bond between us, so that we completely understand his fears from the whole situation. Not just the life or death stuff, but the more hard-hitting aspects, like whether or not he can still drink alcohol, and the ignominies (not to mention pain) of administering an MRSA swab test and having a catheter removed.

They say that if you don’t know what to write about, write about what you know. If you’re going to suffer a life threatening health-based episode, you might as well make it work for you. Sometimes if you go to a comedy gig and the comedian is using you as therapy for something they’re trying to come to terms with themselves, it can be a tricky and uncomfortable event. That’s not the case here.Rest assured that Mr Jupp is perfectly at ease with everything he’s experienced and is completely in charge of his emotions; not that you would expect anything different from the product of one of the more minor prep schools in Berkshire.

A painstakingly beautifully written show, delivered with deft assuredness and a true feel for the comic potential that lurks under the surface of disaster. Miles Jupp has been banging on about this for a couple of months now, but his tour runs until May and still has several more dates in some of the UK’s most charming locations, although many of them are sold out so you’d better be quick. A brilliant night of comedy!

Review – Screaming Blue Murder, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 2nd March 2024

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Well hello again, old friend. Since the regular Screaming Blue Murder nights in the Underground were suspended due to the RAAC we have missed you very much. Now in the grander setting of the Royal Theatre, prior commitments meant we couldn’t attend the earlier Royal Screaming Blues, but at last we have put this right. A big phew all round! I must confess, I wasn’t sure how the Screaming Blue vibe would adjust to the Royal, but it works superbly – organisers take note, this is a very good combination of show and venue!

And it’s a welcome back to Mr Murder himself, Dan Evans, hosting the proceedings with all the sure-footedness of a mountain gazelle. Just because we’re now in a more formal venue, it doesn’t mean he can’t spy the characters in the first few rows of the audience. Thus we gained a certain degree of insight into phone-fiddler Lee and her ex-train driver husband, the Hunsbury Probation officer, the English teachers from Rugby who missed the last act to get their train, the Nottingham University trainee medics, and someone in telemarketing. That was all much more entertaining than it sounds. Dan was on terrific form with some blazing retorts and all the talk in the foyer and Gents’ toilets was how funny he was. Hope it doesn’t go to his head.

Our first act, and someone we’ve seen many times before, was the excellent Diane Spencer, a self-confessed vision of ginger pallor, whose strength lies in that marvellous contrast between an innocently posh exterior and not-so-posh nor innocent material. She gave us an excruciatingly brilliant routine about pole dancing and didn’t hold back on telling us the details of what can happen under her sheets. She has a wonderfully self-deprecating style and it’s easy to identify with all her stories. A superb start to the night.

Next up, and new to us, was Joshua Bethania, the funniest thing to come out of Bangalore since the last call centre excuse you were told. His delivery is quiet, gently paced and could be mistaken for laid-back; but in fact his set is exquisitely structured, with a wordsmith’s ear for le mot juste, and immaculate timing that nails every joke. Although his material is all from familiar territory, he puts a fresh spin on everything so that it feels completely original. Sometimes the languid approach by a comedian can fall flat on its face, but Mr Bethania uses it with such inventiveness that his act is a joy.

Our headliner was Richard Morton, another familiar face, full of attack right from the start, riffing off the audience with effortless ease, and giving us some truly funny musical parodies. His cost of living crisis version of Eddy Grant was (literally) priceless, and he ends with a hilarious reworking of a Tom Jones classic with which you can’t not join in. I reckon he and second-row-Rob will be besties after their comedy collaboration! You’re in the safest of hands with Mr Morton, guaranteed to make you shake with laughter.

A brilliant night of comedy. The next Screaming Blue Murder will be on 2nd May – can’t wait!

Review – Ben and Imo, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 29th February 2024

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In 1952, Benjamin Britten was riding high. With operas like Peter Grimes and Billy Budd under his belt, not to mention the famous Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra, he was an obvious choice to compose an opera to celebrate the young Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation – Gloriana, based on Lytton Strachey’s Elizabeth and Essex. However, a composer – or any creative artist – is often not the best judge of their own work, and nine months before Gloriana was to grace the stage of Covent Garden, into Britten’s life stepped Imogen Holst. The daughter of Gustav, she was a composer and conductor in her own right, and her all encompassing passion was music, in all its forms and from all its angles. But she turned her back on her career in favour of teaching, support and assisting. At one point Britten suggests she should be designated as his amanuensis. But that’s too grand for Holst; she prefers the understated “musical assistant”.

Ben ImoWhat is it about creative geniuses that means they always seem to have a dark side? That’s one of the many questions posed in Mark Ravenhill’s thought-provoking and beautifully written Ben and Imo, an account of the nine months that led up to the first performance of Gloriana on 8th June 1953.  We see their shared love of music, the arduous and cantankerous creative process, the struggle to overcome obstacles, and above all, their mutual reliance (although both, you feel, would deny it). What we don’t see is their lives outside of these four walls, or this circular stage. There is a huge contrast, for instance, between Imo’s austere existence and the affluence of Ben’s society lifestyle, wonderfully demonstrated by the difference between his enviable Astrakhan coat and her dowdy outfits.

Ben ImoWe also don’t see the people who have shaped them into who they are: Gustav Holst, who had died many years before, and Peter Pears, Ben’s partner, always singing his way around the world. The play removes the protagonists from these prime influences, so that they are left to fend for themselves. The only other element that makes an incursion into the “Ben and Imo” environment is the sea off the Aldeburgh coast; a constant background reminder of the unpredictable power and destructive force it can wield.

Imo BenThis is not a portrayal of a harmonious relationship. Britten is one of those people who bring others into their lives because they need them for a purpose, and when that need has been fulfilled, they drop them. Holst, however, is the complete opposite; she’s loyal, nurturing, and generous. At first, Britten wants her to make all the decisions for him; later, he resents her for trying to take control. He attracts people towards him, but once a friendship is established and successful, he unexpectedly and without reason drives them away. He needs Imo’s encouragement, and she needs to give it to him. But when she envisages a plan to refine and develop his Gloriana score, he can’t abide the thought of her presence and so arranges for her to go to America for three months. In modern parlance, he catfishes, cancels, and then ghosts. No wonder Imo doesn’t know where she stands.

BenBen’s progress is marked by a series of seemingly petty victories, such as when the Lord Chamberlain backs down over his refusal to allow the appearance of a “pisspot” as part of Elizabeth I’s domestic regime. He has a splendid time trashing Dame Ninette de Valois, Frederick Ashton, Covent Garden director Lord Harewood, and others. This man is nothing if not a name-dropper. As well as the creative process in general, the play examines not only the tricks that are played within a power struggle, blaming others for failure, but also the concept of the dumbing-down of art, and the perils of royal patronage. The powerplay between Britten and Holst was always going to be the sticking point of their relationship, and the play’s wonderfully sudden ending seems to nail that question once and for all.

ImoSoutra Gilmour’s set places the piano at the heart of the play; no need for anything else on the stage unless it serves the piano – such as the stool and the supply of sheet music, or a few drinks to fuel the musicians. The piano is the ultimate visual indication that music is all.

Ben ImoErica Whyman directs two stunning performances by Samuel Barnett as Ben and Victoria Yeates as Imo. Mr Barnett truly inhabits Britten’s enclosed, reserved mind, giving of himself only when he needs to, and spitting out volumes of unexpected vitriolic fury when he doesn’t get his own way. He shows us Britten as both masterful and pathetic; both a genius and a lame duck. Ms Yeates gives us a superb study of a willing slave, insightful and practical, prepared to give up her own success and dignity for the sake of what she perceives to be the greater good. But there is always a point where the worm turns, and she provides all the genuine emotional reactions that Mr Barnett’s Britten refuses to indulge in.

HouseThere were just two elements to the staging that jarred with me and became an unnecessary distraction from the pure realism of the play. Perched on top of the piano is a model of Britten’s house; no one ever refers to it or touches it, so presumably only we can see it. Its little windows are lit, as if to show there’s someone living there. When the second act opens, we understand that the house has been flooded and that the electricity has been cut off; yet the little lights in the model house remain on. That just doesn’t make any sense to me.

Ben ImoThat flood is represented not only by the audience hearing loud lashings of rain and sea, but also by a little bit of water that trickles off the surface of the piano. Knowing how graphically the RSC can represent a storm when they want to (imagine Edgar on the blasted heath in King Lear), I’m afraid that little bit of rainwater dripping off the piano is hardly a deluge – it’s laughably pitiful.

Nevertheless, it’s a very well-written and structured play that grapples with some fascinating issues and aspects of humanity that some of us would prefer to remain hidden; and Samuel Barnett and Victoria Yeates are fantastic. Gloriana may well have been a flop – Ben and Imo makes up for that in spades.

Production photos by Ellie Kurttz

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!