With so many family members who – unbelievably – had still never seen Noises Off, we had a big trip up to London to catch the last night of the current run of Lindsay Posner’s new production of this classic comedy – and it was worth every penny and every minute. I’m sure you know the premise; TV star Dotty Otley has sunk her money into a touring production of Robin Housemonger’s latest sex comedy, Nothing On, opening tomorrow night at the Grand Theatre Weston-super-Mare. Unfortunately, they’re all a bit behind with their rehearsals.
So Act One of Noises Off is the dress rehearsal of Act One of Nothing On; Act Two is backstage during the midweek matinee at the Theatre Royal, Goole, a few weeks later; and Act Three is the last night of the tour at the Municipal Theatre, Stockton on Tees. Although everyone is sweetness and light at the beginning (apart from the super-stressed director), it doesn’t take long for relationships to become a little strained; and when one member of the cast gets jealous of the attention paid to others, it becomes too much to bear.
There’s so much to enjoy in the show. The mistimed curtain announcements. The dilemma of too many sardines. Lost contact lenses. Sudden nosebleeds. Stuck doors. Tied laces. Concealed whisky bottles. It’s a never ending list. I’ve now seen Noises Off five times over the decades, and I challenge anyone to come up with a funnier individual Act within a play certainly over the last forty years than Act Two of Noises Off. You inevitably end up with your eyes streaming with happy tears and your voice hoarse from cackling. You also think you’ve always seen the best ever cast – until the next time you see it.
This delightful production has a cast to die for. Felicity Kendal brings all her immaculate comic timing to the role of Dotty Otley, unable to tell her newspaper from her sardines, mouthing obscenities at other cast members and truly nailing the killer lines that Michael Frayn provides her. Alexander Hanson is fantastic as director Lloyd, again with brilliant timing, wonderfully tired with not only this ghastly play but life in general. Joseph Millson gives us a superb physical comedy performance as the neurotic and furious Garry, with some amazing pratfalls and vocal athletics. Matthew Kelly is joyfully doddery as the oft-inebriated Selsdon, Jonathan Coy beautifully brings out all Freddie’s anxieties and I don’t think I’ve ever seen the role of Belinda Blair played with such inventive humour as here by Katherine Kingsley. In fact, occasionally one can feel that Act Three is a tiny bit of an anti-climax after the high octane hilarity of the middle act – but not a bit of it here, I’ve never seen Act Three played so brilliantly.
The production has already had a brief UK tour before hitting the West End, and will be returning for a new tour later this year. Considering the whole genre of the sex comedy is pretty much a thing of the past, it’s amazing how fresh and recognisable the comedy is. Should be compulsory viewing for everyone! A sheer delight from start to finish.
It doesn’t seem like that long ago that we were at the Menier Chocolate Factory, watching Alexander Hanson in Florian Zeller’s The Truth, translated by Christopher Hampton. It was a one-act play with two couples, where the husband in one couple was having an affair with the wife in the other couple, and vice versa. Here we are again at the Menier Chocolate Factory, watching Alexander Hanson in Florian Zeller’s The Lie, translated by Christopher Hampton. It’s a one-act play with two couples, where the husband in one…. Oh, I think I’d better stop there.
It’s true though; this does feel like very familiar territory. Even more so than watching a sequence of Ayckbourns or Pinters, because even if those redoubtable playwrights deal with many recurring themes, at least they place them in different locations and have a variety of character-types. With M. Zeller, we’re again back in a luxury Paris flat, with four characters called Paul, Alice, Michel and Laurence – although to be fair, this time Mr Hanson is playing Paul, not Michel. They can’t actually be the very same characters, because I doubt whether those in The Truth would still be talking together long enough to engage in intrigues as they do in The Lie. I guess M. Zeller just feels he’s on to a winning formula so why waste time changing names and locations?
Paul and Alice are expecting Michel and Laurence to join them for a dinner party, but Alice is on edge. She was in a taxi driving by the Galeries Lafayette (well not the Galeries Lafayette exactly, but a road to the side) and she saw a man they know kissing a woman who wasn’t his wife. There are of course several perfectly innocent explanations for this, but not in the way that Alice says she saw it. As Paul questions her further, he realises the guilty party is closer to home than he thought; but could his best friend really have an affair without Paul knowing about it? And should Alice tell her best friend that she knows her husband is having an affair, or should she tell a lie?
Both The Truth and The Lie are actually very similar plays – both written for the same lead actor, so perhaps it’s not surprising – although structurally there’s a very enjoyable difference. In The Truth, the individual scenes were labelled (with just a hint of Brecht) so that you could count down the stages of deception. In The Lie, we just have a one-act play, with no hints from the programme if there are any surprises in store. However, as I am beginning to realise, M. Zeller is most definitely a man of surprises, so let’s just say it isn’t over until it’s over. He must have the most deceitful imagination going, because over the course of ninety minutes he pulls the characters every way but loose through a series of lies and fantasies so that you really don’t know who or what to believe. It’s incredibly clever and inventive, and everything hangs together perfectly at the end, so the audience does get the satisfaction of a full explanation. Oh, and it’s excruciatingly funny.
Originally the role of Paul was to be played by James Dreyfus, but he had to pull out at the last minute due to medical reasons. Enter Alexander Hanson like a knight in shining armour rescuing the production from disaster. We saw last Sunday’s preview, at which point Mr Hanson had only been rehearsing for a week, so he still had to have the book with him for some scenes; but to be honest we barely noticed it. Given his lack of rehearsal time, he’s absolutely brilliant. What a trouper! He really conveys the character’s intricate blend of honest outrage and feigned innocence, sometimes looking like butter wouldn’t melt, at others, as guilty as sin. And of course he has immaculate comic delivery, making the most of M. Zeller’s and Mr Hampton’s hilarious script.
Samantha Bond is also superb as Alice; constantly on the lookout for signs of deception, seeking reassurance, and throwing herself whole-heartedly into the grand gesture of locking herself in the bedroom overnight. One can only imagine that the Hanson-Bond household can be a lively place if they ever have an argument. Being a thrusting woman on the business front, Mrs Chrisparkle wants to know why Alice would go to an important presentation in the morning dressed in the same outfit that she was wearing for a dinner party the night before? When she spent the night locked in her own bedroom? You just wouldn’t do that. There’s excellent support from Tony Gardner as the extremely laid-back Michel – you get the feeling nothing would ever faze him; and from Alexandra Gilbreath as the bubbly Laurence, confidently assured of Michel’s devoted fidelity.
If you saw The Truth, you’ll want to see The Lie as a companion piece. Even if you didn’t, I’d really recommend it as one of those laugh a minute plays where you sometimes watch the stage through your fingers through sheer embarrassment. As with The Truth, this is NOT a play to take your other half if you’ve been playing away from home. It’s on till 18th November and you should go and see it – not a word of a lie.
P. S. Next year at the Menier Chocolate Factory, Alexander Hanson in The Half-Truth; a one-act play by Florian Zeller translated by Christopher Hampton, where Paul and Michel have a homosexual affair but it’s fine because unknown to them so do Alice and Laurence. No, I made that up. Or did I…?
As a result of The Father, Florian Zeller has become something of a star name in the world of dramatists, but I confess this is the first time I’ve seen anything he’s written. As La Vérité, this play was written in 2011 and has been performed not only in France but also Germany, Italy, Belgium and Spain. As The Truth it has been translated by Christopher Hampton and now appears for the first time in the UK.
What is the truth? Sometimes, as this hilarious and cringe-making play shows, it’s not always that easy to tell. You may be lying to your partner if you are having an affair, and presumably your co-affairee (is that a word? If not, it should be) is also lying to their partner. But is that the end of it? Are there further untruths out there? With terrific dexterity, the play shows the tangled web we weave when first we practise…well you know the rest. I can’t say too much about the plot without giving the entire game away, and that would be greatly to reduce the play’s impact; you need to come fresh to its little shocks and surprises right until the bitter end. So that’s all the plot you’re getting from me.
As a teaser, though, the programme gives you the play’s tight structure: seven scenes take you through the Rendezvous, Tightrope Walking, The Lie, Friendship, The Break-Up, An Explanation, and the Truth. When it’s precisely mapped out like this in advance, your mind can follow the clear route from start to finish even though you’ve no idea exactly what’s in store. This helps give the play an inexorable drive and pace, and somehow makes its final conclusion seem even more inevitable. Mrs Chrisparkle and I were thinking afterwards that this would be a most uncomfortable play to watch as a couple if either of you had had an affair. And whatever you do, don’t book this show as part of a let’s forgive and forget process; you might as well hand over the keys your house and move out straight away.
Lizzie Clachan’s stark and sterile set provides an excellent background for this deceptively unemotional play; no place for sentiment here. Instead all the attention is focussed on Michel getting further and further into trouble and trying to extricate himself from the mess. The text delivers cliffhanger after cliffhanger, punchline after punchline, always keeping you on your toes waiting for the next squirm; and Lindsay Posner’s clear and pacey direction helps keep the fast and furious plot development as the topmost priority.
Weaving its way through the web of deceit is a superb performance by Alexander Hanson as Michel. Hardly ever off stage, he self-degenerates from urbane, rather smarmy and selfish lover to quivering wreck. As he starts to realise that he is just as sinned against as sinning, his retaliations and defences become more and more ludicrous, so that he comes across as a self-pitying spoilt git without the slightest degree of empathy. It’s a beautifully funny performance, full of fantastic timing and great energy. It’s not often you see Captain von Trapp with his pants around his ankles – don’t worry, it’s all done in the best possible taste.
For the plot development and reveals to work fully, it’s necessary for the motivations of the other characters to be not quite so obvious. Frances O’Connor’s Alice, carrying on the affair with Michel behind her husband’s back, is delightfully aloof at times, providing just enough sexual allure to keep Michel coming back for more but holding back too so that we can’t quite see where she’s going. Their phone call scene where Michel has to pretend to be Alice’s aunt is a Laugh Out Loud Riot. Tanya Franks gives a great performance as Laurence, Michel’s wife, pointedly asking him difficult questions, slowly revealing she knows more than he thinks she knows, making him dig deeper to get out of his already substantial hole. And anything she might be hiding comes to the surface with subtle brilliance. Perhaps it’s only Robert Portal who slightly underplays the role of Paul, Michel’s best friend and Alice’s husband; he successfully keeps his cards close to his chest but at the same time you slightly wonder why Michel would have him as his best friend, because not quite enough of the “best friendliness” comes out in his performance. Still, maybe Paul knows something we don’t know…
But this is a minor quibble. It’s a fascinating and hilarious play, perfectly structured, and with a marvellous central performance. One hour 25 minutes at a push; for some people that is music to their ears, so they can get on and do other things; for others (myself included) you can’t quite help the feeling of being slightly short-changed. Back in the day, that would have constituted one half of a double bill of two one-act plays. But better a short performance of this play than none. There is talk of a transfer; why not? It’s enormously entertaining and really deserves it.
How much do you know about the Profumo affair? If you’re like us, then probably not that much. The name’s familiar – as are those of Christine Keeler, Mandy Rice-Davies, and, when it all came to trial, the judge was the esteemed Lord Denning. But Yevgeny Ivanov? Lucky Gordon? Stephen Ward? No, you’d have beaten me there, those names would have meant nothing until we’d seen Andrew Lloyd Webber’s new musical about the eponymous osteopath, who massaged the backs of the great and painful and found himself buoyant in the sea of early 1960s London celebrity.
One of the main criticisms I’d heard about it in advance was that, although it was a perfectly good show, who could possibly be its target market? Surely only the (relatively) elderly would remember those days and be interested in reliving those scandalous times? Well, judging from the age bracket of those attending last Saturday’s matinee (and bearing in mind that it was indeed a matinee, which may skew the demographic) then maybe so. However, that’s a real shame. It’s a timeless story – and if it were fiction, we’d be lapping it up. Sex, political scandals, celebrity and espionage – what’s not to love? And, of course, the music of Andrew Lloyd Webber. I’ve not seen all his shows, by a long chalk, but for the most part I find them pretty enjoyable. Jesus Christ Superstar, Evita, Phantom are all amazing. Joseph, Starlight and Aspects are all very good. Sunset – ok, Cats – a bit boring; not seen the others. But if musicals were football teams (and I accept that they’re not) I’d certainly put this show up there at the top of the Championship, looking for possible promotion to the Premiership.
I was really impressed with the story-telling aspect of the show. It’s a very well-paced, momentum-building book, and, by the time you get to the second act, it becomes the stage version of a real page-turner. The lyrics are not drowned out by the music (Rent in Concert take note) so you can hear all the words as clear as a bell. That’s not to say the orchestra don’t give it their all, because they do – it’s a really great performance by them, and Lloyd Webber has come up with some terrific tunes as usual – just that it all comes across as beautifully balanced in your eardrums. Structurally or technically, the only thing I thought could have been improved is the Act One climax – Johnny from the club arriving at Stephen’s flat with a gun and not afraid to shoot it; I guess it was meant to be an exciting moment to take you buzzing into the interval, but actually I thought it was a damp squib that needed much more oomph.
There’s obviously absolutely no doubt in ALW’s mind that Stephen Ward was framed. With worthies like Profumo, Astor and Rachman surrounding him, Ward was a comparative no-mark, who, with the benefit of hindsight, was always going to be sacrificed on the altar of political expediency. There’s a scene in the show where the Home Secretary and his cronies brainstorm on what trumped-up charge they will get the police to fabricate, nicely giving a new meaning to Stephen Ward’s “Manipulation” song from earlier. This develops into the brilliant “Police Interview”, where the impetus to incriminate Ward in any way they can, is blatantly, ruthlessly and unsettlingly hilariously portrayed. All this, and a superb scene with News of the World journalists (whatever became of that responsible and newsworthy organ?) where they encourage Christine to “give us something juicy” – the plot may be in the 1960s but the subject matter is as relevant today as ever.
Alexander Hanson is fantastic as Ward; this is the first time we’ve seen him since his excellent Captain von Trapp in the Palladium’s Sound of Music a few years ago. Manipulative, but manipulable too; attracted to the ladies in a determined, confident way; displaying an air of quiet authority that ends up being just a little too quiet to save himself. And musically, he’s great; an outstanding, rich, clear voice and an interpretation of Don Black’s lyrics that make you feel really sorry for him. The bizarre thing is that, of all the people in the show, Ward is the one who has really done nothing wrong; just having a taste for the highlife and a liking for a varied array of ladies – there’s nothing illegal about that.
Charlotte Spencer gives a great performance as Christine Keeler, the very young dancer at Murray’s Cabaret Club – I’m sure I remember adverts for that club in Palladium theatre programmes from the 60s and 70s – who catches Ward’s eye and doesn’t resist his advances, but with whom, for whatever reason, he apparently doesn’t actually have a relationship – he just installs her in his flat. She’s an excellent singer, looks great, and over the course of the show develops from rough-edged teenager to a more sophisticated, and much more experienced, woman. Charlotte Blackledge’s Mandy Rice-Davies is a more outgoing, back-chatty girl, full of fun and cheek and it’s no surprise Rachman would have shown an interest in her; or indeed, Ward. Interestingly, the real Mandy Rice-Davies apparently advised during the creative process of the show, which lends the plot additional veracity.
There’s also a brilliant turn by Joanna Riding as Valerie Hobson (Lady Profumo) standing by her man in best Tammy Wynette fashion, both when she thinks he has been falsely accused of having an affair with Christine Keeler, and when she knows it is true. Profumo must have been one of the luckiest men alive to have a high profile affair like that and suffer the vengeance of his wife for no more than about thirty seconds. Miss Riding’s performance of “I’m Hopeless when it comes to you” is probably the musical highlight of the show. Anthony Calf, who can always be relied upon to provide great support in any cast, is a very chummy and friendly Lord Astor, so that the scene where he distances himself from Ward because the heat is on, has a much greater impact and you realise what a cowardly toe-rag Astor is. And I really loved the double act of Ian Conningham and Christopher Howell as the two bent coppers intimidating their way through their interrogations. But the whole cast is excellent, and the big set pieces like the rather posh orgy and the courtroom scene work extremely well.
At the end of the day it’s Stephen Ward’s story, his good times and his tragic ending; the show completely revolves around him and ends as it begins with his bizarrely featuring in the Chamber of Horrors at Blackpool. Alexander Hanson gives the stand-out performance required for this heavy role. Pre-show warnings advise that it’s not for the easily offended; to be honest I think you’d have to be very easily offended indeed to get upset by its content. It’s an excellent show and I would really recommend it!
With so many family members who – unbelievably – had still never seen Noises Off, we had a big trip up to London to catch the last night of the current run of Lindsay Posner’s new production of this classic comedy – and it was worth every penny and every minute. I’m sure you know the premise; TV star Dotty Otley has sunk her money into a touring production of Robin Housemonger’s latest sex comedy, Nothing On, opening tomorrow night at the Grand Theatre Weston-super-Mare. Unfortunately, they’re all a bit behind with their rehearsals.
So Act One of Noises Off is the dress rehearsal of Act One of Nothing On; Act Two is backstage during the midweek matinee at the Theatre Royal, Goole, a few weeks later; and Act Three is the last night of the tour at the Municipal Theatre, Stockton on Tees. Although everyone is sweetness and light at the beginning (apart from the super-stressed director), it doesn’t take long for relationships to become a little strained; and when one member of the cast gets jealous of the attention paid to others, it becomes too much to bear.
There’s so much to enjoy in the show. The mistimed curtain announcements. The dilemma of too many sardines. Lost contact lenses. Sudden nosebleeds. Stuck doors. Tied laces. Concealed whisky bottles. It’s a never ending list. I’ve now seen Noises Off five times over the decades, and I challenge anyone to come up with a funnier individual Act within a play certainly over the last forty years than Act Two of Noises Off. You inevitably end up with your eyes streaming with happy tears and your voice hoarse from cackling. You also think you’ve always seen the best ever cast – until the next time you see it.
This delightful production has a cast to die for. Felicity Kendal brings all her immaculate comic timing to the role of Dotty Otley, unable to tell her newspaper from her sardines, mouthing obscenities at other cast members and truly nailing the killer lines that Michael Frayn provides her. Alexander Hanson is fantastic as director Lloyd, again with brilliant timing, wonderfully tired with not only this ghastly play but life in general. Joseph Millson gives us a superb physical comedy performance as the neurotic and furious Garry, with some amazing pratfalls and vocal athletics. Matthew Kelly is joyfully doddery as the oft-inebriated Selsdon, Jonathan Coy beautifully brings out all Freddie’s anxieties and I don’t think I’ve ever seen the role of Belinda Blair played with such inventive humour as here by Katherine Kingsley. In fact, occasionally one can feel that Act Three is a tiny bit of 
an anti-climax after the high octane hilarity of the middle act – but not a bit of it here, I’ve never seen Act Three played so brilliantly.
Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!
