Tag Archives: Chichester

Review – Eclipse, Minerva Theatre Chichester, 9th May 2026 – Second Preview

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Reviewing a preview is always a tricky business; one has to give a production the benefit of the doubt that it will improve over the coming days. Perhaps they will have tried something very different on a preview performance that they decide doesn’t work – that’s all part of the reasons for having previews in the first place. I’m stating this upfront, because, given this morning’s fine reviews, I can only think that Eclipse has developed substantially over the last few days.

Writer and director John Morton is best known for being the writer (and director) of those successful TV series, Twenty Twelve, W1A, and now Twenty Twenty-Six. According to the programme notes, the events of Eclipse are based on his own personal experience, but over twenty (that number again) years have elapsed since he wrote the first draft, and he finally feels it’s time to get his ideas out there.

Death. There’s no escaping it. And, if you’re lucky, you’ll have a kind and loving family by your side to help you through your final days. Despite being – along with birth – the only thing that everyone will experience in their lives, there’s still a taboo to many aspects of dealing with dying. A new play that gives us fresh insight into this vital (or rather, mortal) subject must be welcome.

However – and I must emphasise again that we saw the second preview of this production, so much can change between then and Press Night – Eclipse offers hardly any new insights. Just as when, after an eclipse passes, life reverts to normal, when someone dies, life goes on for everyone else. That seems to be the message of this play, but I hazard a guess that’s something everyone discovers as soon as someone they know dies, so, frankly, no surprise there.

To be fair, the play does show the difference between how family members cope with death and how healthcare professionals deal with it. Dr Parker, together with carers Karen and Linda, are the soul of kindness and positivity, and you’d relish having them helping you through your loved one’s last days. They’re a marked contrast to the family members who suppress their petty jealousies, unresolved issues and deep-rooted bitterness. Morton deliberately makes the nature of the relationships somewhat obscure. It was a good way into the play before I realised that Jonathan and Nell weren’t brother and sister, but ex-partners; although then I couldn’t quite work out why Nell actually was there.

It’s an elegant production, charmingly observing the classical unities of tragedy, with death happening off-stage; the ancient Greeks would have loved it. Simon Higlett has created a gorgeously intricate and realistic set; the mechanics of the Minerva mean that as you enter the auditorium you’re walking on the remarkably well realised spongy garden path that leads up to the house, so you feel closely associated with the action even before it starts.

The only detraction from the realism of the set is the lack of a front door; I can understand how one could get in the way of the performance, but it’s a true oddity in the middle of the vivid realism that otherwise confronts us – for example, you even get to smell the burnt toast. Emma Chapman’s vitally important lighting design takes us through the course of a long day; to my mind Ed Clarke’s sound design includes a little too much birdsong from the garden, perhaps over-emphasising how life goes on outside.

One can easily see that Eclipse is written by the same person as W1A; Morton is very comfortable with those half-completed, half-understood, half-meaningful sentences that have peppered conversations since time immemorial. However, that alone doesn’t give the play any va va voom. If the point of Eclipse is to show that life goes on before, during and after death, the play itself needs to have a lot more life injected into it. I know that comparisons are odious, but think of how the likes of Tom Stoppard, Joe Orton, or Alan Ayckbourn can reveal the extraordinary gallows humour that surrounds death; I’m afraid Mr Morton’s humour just nibbles at the edges of the subject.

The performances are all excellent; among the best are Sarah Parish giving us a delightfully worn-down and short-tempered Sarah, Paul Thornley as the permanently upbeat and hapless Graham, and Selina Cadell, who delivers a masterclass of underplayed comedy as carer Karen. It’s a shame that these fantastic actors don’t have something more substantial to get their teeth into. It’s all done and dusted within one hour fifty minutes including an interval; I’m always in admiration of brevity of wit in the theatre, but I can’t help but think there’s an awful lot more here that could be winkled out of the situation for both our entertainment and our enlightenment.

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – Magic, Chichester Festival Theatre, 9th May 2026

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David Haig’s new play concerns the perhaps unlikely but definitely true story of the friendship and association between the brains behind Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and showman and trickster extraordinaire, Harry Houdini. Conan Doyle wasn’t a brilliant escapologist, and Houdini couldn’t write a detective story for toffee, but they did have a shared interest in the world of Spiritualism.

Having lost his son Kingsley shortly after the end of the First World War, Conan Doyle spent the subsequent years desperately believing that he could stay in contact with him through the services of a medium – the renowned Mina Crandon. Houdini, who knew everything about creating illusion, desperately wanted to believe in Spiritualism and would have loved for seances to be true; but he was always able to disprove them. It’s the balance between Conan Doyle, the ultimate believer, and Houdini, the ultimate deceiver, that’s at the heart of the play.

There’s undoubtedly a good story to be told here, but sadly Magic isn’t it. It has a strangely empty feel, as though it knows it doesn’t have much to tell us, and to compensate, what it does tell us is delivered at a snail’s pace. The production allows itself to be sidetracked by enormous amounts of padding, varying from unnecessary musical interludes, Houdini doing a few tricks, and the slowest scene changes this side of the A27. There’s only one scene which contains any drama or tension – which is where Houdini exposes Mina Crandon (an excellently vitriolic Jade Williams) as a fraud, leaving Conan Doyle devastated as he realises he has been tricked. Whilst the characterisations are thoroughly believable, and the acting is first rate, the play and staging are so heavy going and ponderous that they drag the story down with it. And whilst Haig has a nice understanding of the warp and weft of conversation, the text feels like it would be better read than acted.

The music-hall setting unbalances the show by presenting it wholly from the perspective of Houdini’s world, with nothing at all from the Conan Doyle world; and whilst the members of the musical ensemble perform well, they simply distract from the main thrust of the play. In fact, this would be far better as a four or five-hander (the Conan Doyles, the Houdinis and Mina) in a more intimate setting and with greater intensity of dialogue.

David Haig plays Conan Doyle with Edwardian dignity and propriety, and a gentle sense of humour. He embodies respectability in contrast with Hadley Fraser’s Houdini, who accentuates the brash American-ness and essential shallowness of his profession. This difference continues with the enjoyably contrasting Claire Price as the very correct but repressed Jean Conan Doyle and Jenna Augen as the friendly and content Bess Houdini. There’s a brief scene where Bess reveals how Jean turned away from musical performance herself in order to be the literary wife, and we get a glimpse of the sacrifices Jean has made for the greater good – there’s an intriguing dynamic here which is annoyingly just left dangling.

Whilst the play does attempt to explore the lengths to which one can go to come to terms with grief and loss, it never truly fulfils its potential, and the distracting and cumbersome production doesn’t help.

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – The Seagull, Chichester Festival Theatre, 13th November 2025

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The Seagull premiered at the Alexandrinsky Theatre, St Petersburg, in 1896. This isn’t the Alexandrinksy, but it is St Petersburg!

If you were to imagine the plays of Chekhov arranged on a seesaw (bear with me on this idea), his early offerings like Platonov and Ivanov would be high in the air on one side of the seesaw and his meaty humdingers like Three Sisters and The Cherry Orchard would be firmly rooted to the ground on the other. The Seagull would be hovering over the fulcrum in the centre, bursting with Chekhov’s teeming ideas and themes, but never quite playing them out to their maximum effect.

I’m glad to get that iffy metaphor out of the way. The Royal Lyceum Edinburgh production of The Seagull enjoyed a brief extension at the Chichester Festival Theatre last week and marked not only new Artistic Director James Brining’s first show for the Lyceum but it has also been hinted that it will have been Caroline Quentin’s swansong in live theatre (which would if true, officially, be a travesty). In his programme note, adaptor Mike Poulton emphasises that he hasn’t attempted to modernise Chekhov to make him in some way more relevant today, because Chekhov is naturally eternally relevant; and when I read that before the show started, it was music to my ears.

That said, this production took traditional to its extremes. It was the very essence of reverence; yes, it allowed Chekhov’s text to do all the talking, but it came across as surprisingly bland. There was very little change of pace; the big dramatic moments (of which there aren’t many) were softly delivered, and both the comedy and the tragedy of the play were dialled down. The central character, the fading but still vain actor Arkadina, has the potential to horrify the audience with her insensitivity but still make you laugh with her asides; the main tragic character, her son Konstantin, ought to move the audience to tears with his mental torture, so that his final act comes as an awful culmination of his misery. But the production was neither funny enough to make you laugh much, nor tragic enough to make you cry. Overall, it just wasn’t enough.

There were, nevertheless, a number of successful aspects to the show. You really gained a sense of what it might have been like to live in the middle of the Russian nowhere in the 1890s, with decent people scraping a living whilst decadent others showed no empathy. It offered a substantial atmosphere of hopelessness; the disparate elements of a non-cohesive community where the only thing you could enjoy was the sunny weather, which would eventually turn into your enemy when winter came. Colin Richmond’s set judged that faded glory perfectly, with its tall windows and encroaching fields, suggesting that the natural environment would soon overtake the increasingly dismal dacha as it falls into decline; a lovely allegory of the last days of the Tsars.

Are these seagulls? Whatever, there are a lot of them.

Caroline Quentin’s Arkadina was the picture of haughtiness, full of a pretence of caring whilst scarcely hiding her selfish soul. She gave the character an urban sophistication to contrast with the rural backwater and portrayed her as a genuine person rather than an any kind of caricature. The humour that is an essential part of Arkadina never quite came to the fore, but it was a very believable performance. Harmony Rose-Bremner was excellent as Nina, unassuming but ambitious, looking to improve herself and gain favour wherever possible. She made a good partnership with Lorn Macdonald’s Konstantin, trying to perform his pretentious play to the best of her ability; Mr Macdonald portrayed Konstantin as a weak and ineffectual aesthete, trying to find his artistic voice – but perhaps not trying that hard. Unfortunately, the final scene between the two where Nina explains why she went off with Arkadina’s lover Trigorin, and Konstantin’s beseeching that she stays with him, came across as very static and monotonous, creating a conversation that ends very much with a whimper rather than a bang.

Elsewhere, Steven McNicoll made the best of his opportunities as the estate manager Shamrayev, bringing in some welcome humorous petulance when refusing to budge over providing horses for the carriage; Tallulah Greive was a splendidly belligerent Masha, Forbes Masson gave a wistful, but distant, performance as Dorn, Michael Dylan’s Medvendenko was suitably hard-working but under-achieving, and Dyfan Dwyfor a convincing, if perhaps over-likeable Trigorin.

Art versus reality, eloquence versus an inability to communicate, fresh ambition versus the reality of failure. Chekhov’s ideas are all there, but they felt particularly sub-surface in this production rather than given their full potential. All very respectful and all very safe; it was good, but you can’t help but feel that with that cast it should have been better.

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – Emma, Festival Theatre, Chichester, 6th November 2025

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I confess, gentle reader, that I’ve never read Jane Austen’s Emma, but I sense that’s probably an advantage for anyone who sees this Theatre Royal Bath touring production of Ryan Craig’s adaptation of Austen’s 1815 novel. Dramatising a book always means having to make massive cuts to the original, otherwise you’d never be able to fit it into two and a half hours including an interval. But an Emma fan might well have firm ideas as to what to keep and what to boot out.

Jane Austen is very much in vogue at the moment – indeed, was she ever out of it? With the recent joyous production of Pride and Prejudice* (*Sort Of) and Laura Wade’s affectionate upending of the Austen landscape in The Watsons, she’s a target for modernisation and mickey-taking, whilst still admiring and relishing the essence of the original. I expected this adaptation to be much more surreal or meta; but, in fact, it’s a pretty straightforward production that tells Austen’s story (as far as I can make out) reasonably honestly and with a charming lightness of touch that brings all the relevant aspects of the nineteenth century into the present day.

Emma is a meddling, big-headed and insensitive young woman who knows her own mind and doesn’t know when to back down. She plucks a poor orphan girl, Harriet Smith, from obscurity and tries to make her fit for society, with no empathy for Harriet’s wishes or the honest farmer with whom she has been romantically linked. Instead, she sets her up with the local clergyman Mr Elton, who completely gets the wrong end of the stick and thinks that Emma has romantic ideas for herself on him, rather than trying to cultivate a romance between him and Harriet.

The first Act is very much a comedy of errors; but by the start of the second Act Elton has quickly married the snobbish Augusta, shattering Harriet’s expectations. Local gent Mr Knightley is sorry for Harriet and dances with her at a ball – which instantly convinces Harriet that they are both madly in love with each other; further disappointments ensue. Add to this mix Emma’s Achilles heel – the long-admired Mr Churchill, her rival in love Miss Fairfax, her bumbling old father and some heavy home truths from Knightley, and you have a recipe for a veritable West Country Coronation Street of tussles, resentments and misunderstandings.

Stephen Unwin’s production is slick and smart, with an emphasis on the comedy which can divert you from the fact that, deep down, Emma is a truly nasty piece of work, with a malicious streak revealing that she doesn’t give two hoots about anyone’s happiness or wellbeing. Her relish, for example, at the prospect of watching the admittedly dreadful Mrs Elton eating a strawberry (to which she allergic) is downright cruel. Any other character insights are pretty much ignored, as it’s all done for fun, and everything turns out all right in the end.

Ceci Calf’s set design is as blank and simple as you can imagine, inviting a silent running joke about the endless times that Mr Woodhouse’s chair and side table are diligently and knowingly brought on and off the stage. Her costume design is traditional and functional, all very respectable and nothing too showy except for the extravagant costume of the tastelessly imperious Augusta.

The cast all capture the spirit of the show very well, with a strong and credible central performance by India Shaw-Smith as Emma, bristling with confidence and the certainty that she is the most important person in the universe. In her professional debut, Maiya Louise Thapar gives us an affectionately unworldly Harriet, trapped by Emma’s plans and convincingly disturbed when all her prospects turn to dust.

William Chubb gives a scene-stealing performance as Woodhouse, curmudgeonly but not irredeemably so, knowing when to escape for the good of his senses. Ed Sayer gives a charismatic performance as Knightley, dishing out the criticisms much to Emma’s annoyance; Oscar Batterham is excellent as the hopeful Elton, only to be replaced by a more world-weary version after his marriage, and Rose Quentin is superb as the ghastly Augusta, point-scoring wherever she can, and never satisfied even when she has the best of everything.

The production never really soars into either the blissfully funny or revelatory character examination, but it bubbles along jovially in a sequence of amusing scenes and does exactly what it says on the tin. Did it make me want to read the book? Not really. But it was an entertaining way to spend a Thursday evening in Chichester!

 

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – Safe Space, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 23rd October 2025

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When I was a kid, Statues meant a game where you had to freeze whenever the music stopped or someone looked at you. Ah, the halcyon days of innocence! Today, statues are just as likely to be a symbol of oppression or a monument to the unforgivable. Who can forget the statue of Saddam Hussein being toppled in 2003, or the division caused by chucking the statue of Edward Colston into Bristol harbour; or the efforts of the police to protect the statue of Winston Churchill during recent protests, and the debate over the future of the statue of Cecil Rhodes at Oriel College Oxford?

In 2017, Colhoun College, part of Yale University, changed its name to Grace Hopper College, in honour of the computer scientist, mathematician and Rear Admiral who had earned two doctorates from Yale. But there had been calls for the college to change its name since the 1960s, John C. Colhoun having been an outspoken supporter of slavery. Safe Space is Jamie Bogyo’s first play, and he based it on the real-life events that happened at Yale University in 2016/7, where he studied playwrighting. When you enter the auditorium at the Minerva Theatre you are immediately confronted by an imposing statue of Colhoun, suitably bespattered by bird droppings, and you just know he’s going to be a problematic presence.

However, there’s more to life at Yale than being concerned about its alumni’s provocative pasts. I had no idea that, along with all the other Ivy League universities, there is a long tradition of student a cappella singing; today there is even a National (and International) Championship of Collegiate A Cappella. Bogyo inserts a cappella moments into his plot to reflect the wider aspects of college life. There is also a subplot of rivalry between students to take control of influential student groups, with jealousy, false friendships and distrust rife. And there’s also that awkward uncertainty about accidentally saying the wrong thing or using the wrong word when it comes to matters of race or equality; come on, even the most proudly woke of us has been there.

So that’s at least three plots, each of which could sustain a full-length play. Unfortunately, Bogyo has concatenated them all together, with the result that none of them is examined in sufficient detail to create a cohesive and satisfying narrative. Questions, ideas, arguments evolve, but then go nowhere. For example, what damage was done to the statue, and who did it (we never find out, despite an extended scene where the students are waiting to be grilled by the principals). Act One ends on a very lightweight non sequitur that sends us into the interval deflated. One character has an unexpected panic attack, following which we spend a minute or two calming him down – but it is an event that has no bearing on anything that either precedes or follows it. Another truly chaotic and overly busy scene culminates with a fist being smashed through an artwork, but it goes nowhere.

The final scene uses a cappella in a highly unlikely attempt at a reconciliation and we’ve no idea whether the reconciliation is successful. The only issue that receives some kind of resolution is that a decision is made to rename the college – but it’s presented in a very underwhelming way, by disparate characters doomscrolling on their phones. Of course, leaving some issues unresolved is fine – real life is like that – but leaving virtually everything up in the air is annoying. Why did the couple who have sex act so unpleasantly to each other the next day? Why did one of the characters turn from being a supportive friend to a ruthless enemy on the flick of a coin? There’s too much going on and not enough sense being made.

Nevertheless, there’s much to enjoy in the performances and production as a whole. Khadija Raza’s set cleverly adapts to different student bedrooms – basic and luxurious, as well as the intimidating corridor outside the principal’s office and the quadrangle around the statue. The costumes are decently studenty and delightfully formal for the a cappella. Talking of which, the singing is beautiful; both Jamie Bogyo (Connor) and Ernest Kingsley Jr (Isaiah) have exquisitely delicate voices and their harmonies in that final scene – for all its dramatic faults and suspension of belief – are stunning.

All the performances are first rate; Ivan Oyik’s earnestly enthusiastic Omar is a very believable portrayal of a scholarship boy surprised at how well he has done. Bola Akeju almost has to act two characterisations – the friendly supportive Stacy of the opening scenes and the ruthlessly dismissive Stacy once she has achieved power. Céline Buckens is excellent as Connor’s unimpressed girlfriend Annabelle, amusingly checking her phone whilst he’s giving it his everything under the duvet. Jamie Bogyo’s Connor convinces as the kind of guy who simply assumes everything he says is right and that every decent person would always agree with him, and Ernest Kingsley Jr is superb in the most interesting role of Isaiah, the quiet, unassuming student who keeps his beliefs to himself until he is forced to assert his individuality.

It’s a real shame that, despite these excellent elements, the play itself lets the rest of the production down. It’s full of promise, but the end result just doesn’t hang together. So many questions, so few attempts at providing answers. It’s rather like a mass of jangling muscles that need some strong massaging in order to smooth them out and make them do the work they’re meant to. And it’s uncomfortable to be so critical of a writer’s first staged work because there’s obviously a very important and riveting play lurking just beneath the surface – but unfortunately, this isn’t it.

Two Disappointing for More!

Review – Hamlet, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 8th September 2025

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I can never resist a production of Hamlet, arguably the best play in the English language, and I was intrigued to see what that splendid actor Giles Terera would make of the titular role. Unfortunately, the only date that suited us was an early preview of the production, in fact only the second public performance, so I am fully expecting much of what we saw to have been subject to change before the press night.

Director Justin Audibert’s stated aim with this production is to emphasise the atmosphere of spying and paranoia that dominates the text. Spying? Yes indeed. Examples include Polonius spying on Hamlet behind the arras, and Claudius sending Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to spy on him and report back. Paranoia, however, is the erroneous suspicion that people are out to get you; and in Hamlet, such suspicion is perfectly justified, not erroneous. So I don’t think that Audibert’s production succeeds in conveying a sense of paranoia.

What it does, very successfully, is suggest a very dark society; gloomy, anxious, in literal need of illumination. Ryan Day’s lighting is subdued and subtle until he turns the bright lights on when it becomes brash and overwhelming. Jonathan Girling’s intriguing and tuneful musical compositions link the scenes quietly but compellingly. Lily Arnold’s stark wasteland of a set suggests dusty, infertile earth – something could easily be rotten in that state – with an upstairs stage box from where Claudius and Gertrude can watch the Players at work, doubling up as Gertrude’s bed chamber; safely detached and away from the sordid machinations of the hoi polloi. Another enclosed balcony to the side looks like an Elsinore version of a lean-to and only allows a small degree of visibility to the audience, but it’s a perfect position from which to spy.

Elsewhere, there are a couple of odd directorial choices; why is it Gertrude who crowns King Claudius? And (spoiler alert) in Ophelia’s final appearance the audience is left in no doubt from her dress that she has recently suffered a miscarriage; clearly that’s the interpretation that Audibert deduces from Hamlet and Ophelia’s relationship, yet earlier in the play there has been very little suggestion of any intimacy between the two at all. In fact, one of the most notable aspects to this production is how clinical and cold the emotions are. Hamlet’s reflections on Alas poor Yorick, often an opportunity for a note of genuine sadness and regret, come across as very half-hearted and tentative. Even at the moment when Claudius realises Gertrude has drunk the poison, he conveys all the emotion of that brief moment of annoyance when you can’t remember why you’ve gone into the bedroom.

At three hours and thirty minutes, it is a long production; and whilst the first act rips by, the second act slows to a laboured pace. The climax chosen on which to end Act One (the moment Hamlet steals up behind the praying Claudius and is ready to strike him dead) doesn’t work, because there’s no real dramatic lead-up to this moment and the audience knows full well he’s not going to kill him at this point. It feels false. Elsewhere, well acted though it is, the gravediggers’ scene seems immensely too long and could do with some extensive pruning; and they’ve extended the role of Osric to cover two other minor roles, which detracts from the character’s final scene foppish impact.

There are, however, plenty of good characterisations and scenes. Geoff Aymer’s ghost is an ethereal, gasping presence who really would terrify you if he appeared on your battlements at night. Sam Swann’s Horatio is a warm and supportive friend to Hamlet, and Tim Preston and Jay Saighal’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are much more than the vacuous ciphers that they’re often portrayed. Sara Powell is a very credible Gertrude, with no hidden agenda and no suspicious side to her character, just a kindly mother and wife who wants to do her best under the circumstances. Keir Charles is a superb Polonius, again very believable and realistic, sharing his suspicions and concerns about Hamlet in a series of delightful interactions with the audience; pompous and self-serving, but not in an alienating way, so that he becomes the audience’s favourite. Eve Ponsonby gives us a powerful, hysterical Ophelia who has completely lost control of her senses. And, if you enjoy stage combat like me, the swordfight at the end is genuinely exciting to watch.

I have some uncertainty about two of the main performances but hope that they will have become more rounded by the time press night comes around. Ryan Hutton’s Laertes is fine in his opening scenes but on his return after the death of Polonius, he tends to shout and stab at his lines, rushing through them without much meaning. And Ariyon Bakare’s Claudius is the opposite, giving us a rather quiet and underplayed performance, repressing the character’s sentiments rather than releasing them. But hopefully these performances will have borne fruit by now.

I always think it’s important to establish just how mad or otherwise the character of Hamlet is; and Giles Terera convinces me all along as being 100% sane, with his hawks and handsaws clearly demarcated for all to see. Comfortable with those he trusts and very suspicious of those he doesn’t, his soliloquies are for the most part well-paced and clear, and his storytelling is convincing. Like the rest of the production, his emotions seem sometimes oppressed; but it’s a believable and honest performance that holds the production together well.

It’s atmospheric and easy to follow (you can’t always say that about Hamlet), although perhaps it lacks a little theatrical magic. I was surprised at the number of people (maybe 10% of a sold-out audience) who did not return after the interval, as it’s a perfectly solid production, gimmick-free and respectful of the text. Hopefully time has ironed out any problems it faced during previews, which would probably merit an extra star!

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – Top Hat, Festival Theatre, Chichester, 18th July 2025

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The big summer musical at the Chichester Festival Theatre is always a matter of great expectations. You can rely on an impressive production with no expense spared, and pretty much a full house for every performance. This year’s production, Irving Berlin’s Top Hat, has much to live up to – will it follow in the footsteps of last year’s outstanding Oliver! or other big hitters like Half a Sixpence, Crazy for You, South Pacific, Fiddler on the Roof, Oklahoma! – it’s a list of enviable quality.

I don’t have to tell you, gentle reader, that Top Hat is that hugely successful movie musical from 1935 starring Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers – ninety years old now and still holding a prominent place in the history of cinema and entertainment. Matthew White and Howard Jacques’ stage musical first appeared in 2011 and is a largely faithful adaptation of the original film. It’s not at all surprising that it’s considered worthy of a revival – after all, how can you miss with songs like Puttin’ on the Ritz, Cheek to Cheek, Top Hat White Tie and Tails and Let’s Face the Music and Dance.

To say it’s a simple plot is something of an insult to the notion of simplicity. American dancer Jerry Travers comes to London to appear in a show and meets – and annoys – Dale Tremont. He falls head over heels in love; she doesn’t. A case of mistaken identity ensues, with Dale believing Jerry to be married to her friend Madge, whereas Madge is married to Horace, the producer of the show. Dale marries an Italian fashion designer in anger; but Jerry is ever persistent, and when Dale’s marriage proves to be invalid as it was conducted by Horace’s butler – I know, bear with me – it all ends happily ever after. Even the spurned Italian fashion designer is happy, as he is placated by being employed to create Dale’s wedding dress. I don’t think he was really in love in the first place, do you?

I should point out that the show we saw was a Friday night preview, the fifth (I believe) public performance of the run, and of course I take that into account when summarising my thoughts. However, no amount of rehearsals, performances, tweaks and so on can change the fact that the script is incredibly corny, with some of the lamest jokes you’ll hear for many a year. Overall, the show is extraordinarily dated, and in a tedious rather than charming way. Various elements of the plot include stalking, misogyny, making fun of foreigners, domestic violence, love bombing and a spot of sexual harassment. Gosh they had fun in the 30s.

As for the production itself, it scores high on the basics but low on the embellishments. Credit where it’s due: Peter McKintosh’s set is superb, beautifully recreating a deco style, with a glass arch that reminded me of the Musée d’Orsay and a revolving stage underneath that transforms into hotel rooms, reception desks, and other vital scenes in the plot. He and Yvonne Milnes also designed the costumes which are outstanding; elegant, and totally in keeping with the era. Stephen Ridley’s out of sight orchestra fills the Festival Theatre with glorious arrangements of Berlin’s timeless tunes.

Kathleen Marshall, who also directs the show, choreographs all these big numbers, and there is – understandably – an emphasis on tap, which hits you full force with amplified tap shoes, creating a hugely impressive audible avalanche of tapping. However, the choreography for the non-tap routines feels less inspired and rather generic; and indeed, one wonders why they hit those Spanish lines for a routine that is set in Italy. Curious.

It’s a very skilful and experienced cast, but somehow the whole thing doesn’t gel. Philip Attmore playing Jerry is a fantastic tap dancer and showman, and Lucy St Louis as Dale looks the part completely and has a great voice, but there is hardly any chemistry between them. Clive Carter as Horace and James Clyde as his butler Bates do everything that the script requires of them – which is primarily to make them look stupid, with Mr Carter ending up with a black eye and a lipsticked mouth, and Mr Clyde looking like a very world-weary gondolier.

Alex Gibson-Giorgio injects the necessary high camp into his performance as fashionista Bedini, and the audience adored his solo number Latins Know How, but I’m afraid I found it excruciatingly cringeworthy and had to watch through the gaps in my fingers. The always reliable Sally Ann Triplett as Madge is missing in the first Act and her appearance at the beginning of Act Two breathes fresh life into the show, but even she gets bogged down with some dubiously outdated comedy.

By the time we were well into the second Act I was both very bored, and not remotely interested in any of the characters’ plights or how they would end up. Having great expectations of a show often leads to disappointment and that’s certainly the case for this production. Despite its glitz and glamour, great music and accomplished performers, this did nothing for me at all. I’ve added a star to my rating in the hope that it will improve in time for Press Night.

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review Marie and Rosetta, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 18th July 2025

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Who said theatre isn’t educational? I don’t know how I got to [insert old age here] years old and had never heard of Sister Rosetta Tharpe and Marie Knight. Rosetta was born in 1915 into a family of cotton pickers driven by music and started singing at the age of six in her mother’s evangelical touring troupe. Marie was born in 1920 (although she later decided 1925 sounded better) into a Pentecostal family in New Jersey and sang with evangelist Frances Robinson and gospel singer Mahalia Jackson. Rosetta recorded Decca’s first ever gospel songs and became an overnight sensation, but both were extraordinarily gifted performers. And in 1946 the two met and started performing together.

Playwright George Brant decided that Rosetta led such a full and incident-packed life that it would be impossible to tell her story in one play. He has chosen to concentrate on that one period in her life, when she and Marie started working together; thus Marie and Rosetta is a reimagined staging of what it must have been like to observe their initial rehearsals before their opening shows.

It’s clear that Rosetta is the star, with a successful recording contract and live appearances with the likes of Cab Calloway at venues like the Cotton Club and Carnegie Hall. Not for nothing was she called the Godmother of Rock ‘n’ Roll! She’s rich with life experience too, with failed marriages and living the harsh realities of the racial segregation laws. By contrast, Marie has come to prominence through the Church, has married a preacher and is clearly more motivated by her religious beliefs than Rosetta.

It’s this considerable difference between the individuals’ backgrounds that creates an artistic tension that the two characters explore, most clearly seen in Marie’s insistence on Sing whereas Rosetta naturally opts for Swing. Rosetta knows that, despite her admiration and appreciation of Marie’s talent, they wouldn’t be able to work together if Marie was to look down on Rosetta because of some religious superiority. So does Sing beat Swing or does Swing become too much of a temptation for Sing? If you don’t already know, you’ll have to watch the play to find out!

What appears to be a straightforwardly constructed play reveals something of a twist towards the end, which is handled very deftly and satisfyingly. Unfortunately Mr Brant slightly rushes the ending, trying to fit in as much extra information about the two singers as possible, which, though interesting and relevant, feels like too much to take on board so late in the play.

Simply, but not unattractively, staged, our two singers find themselves in a funeral home for their first rehearsal, but with shimmering showbiz curtains around them, two of which conceal live musicians: guitarist and musical director Shirley Tetteh stage left and pianist Mia Odeleye stage right. It’s distinctly a play with music rather than a musical, but there’s no doubt that the performances of the music are the highlight of this show. A few of the songs were familiar to me, but the vast majority were not, and it was a blissful discovery of a genre of music of which I know little – so that’s a second educational aspect to the show!

And what vocal performances! Beverley Knight, originally a hugely successful recording artist and now a doyenne of the musical stage, plays Rosetta with heart, pizzazz, cheek, and plenty of vulnerability; she truly brings the character to life. And as soon as she starts singing her amazing clear tones resound around the Minerva with both guts and warmth. As an aside, the Minerva is a smaller venue and therefore singers like Ms Knight need little amplification and the musical sound is all the better for it.

And she is matched by Ntombizodwa Ndlovu as Marie; portraying her initially as a starstruck young woman who can’t believe her luck to be performing with someone of the stature of Rosetta and then visibly growing in confidence and determined to make her own artistic decisions. Ms Ndlovu is a terrific find with a superb voice, a lovely feel for comedy and a truly likeable stage presence.

Marie and Rosetta has already visited the Rose Theatre Kingston and the Wolverhampton Grand and continues its run at the Minerva in Chichester until 26th July.

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

 

Review – The Government Inspector, Festival Theatre, Chichester, 10th May 2025

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Back in those boring Covid pandemic days, I realised that I’d never read any Gogol, and decided that was a situation that needed rectifying. So I downloaded his short stories onto my Kindle for free, and spent many a happy hour laughing my head off at his hilarious, thoroughly rude observations, pricking the pomposity of the pretentious, and noting how, two hundred years on, his truths live on and nothing much has changed.

I’d seen a production of his The Government Inspector in 2011, and although it was something of a critical success, I wasn’t overly impressed. It was a sloppy show that went for cheap laughs and camped it up over the top, even though it thought itself to be a true smartypants of a production. Surely, Chichester, with a new version directed by Gregory Doran, will do a slicker job of it. I assumed.

This production has gone – largely – for a traditional approach, with a truly 1830s setting, costumes and music. The opening scene shows much promise, with all the officials of the town in a panic because a government inspector is in their midst and they all fear he will root out their corruption, bribe taking and inefficiency, thereby ruining their lovely lives. In true Gogol style, no time is wasted getting to the heart of the play, and it’s performed with urgency and commitment. Good start.

However, then everything just grinds to a complete halt. Whilst the audience is now ready to see this government inspector for themselves, Gogol instead introduces us to the mayor’s wife and daughter, bickering petulantly and tediously about nothing much. And the pace that had been built up in the first scene instantly collapses. It’s not a very funny conversation and it doesn’t get many laughs. By the time the scene is over and we go on to the inn where the Inspector (it isn’t the inspector by the way – it’s a joke of mistaken identity) and his man are staying with no intention of paying for their board and lodging, it’s amazing how little we care about any of them. As the play progresses, we realise how completely unlikeable every character in the story is, and no amount of pomposity-pricking is going to do anything to improve it.

The staging doesn’t help; the opening scene ranges widely over the huge Festival Theatre stage, using every inch available; but the second scene is very static and just takes place on two chairs at the front, and the third scene is crammed into a tiny part of the stage, which literally prevents its characters from breathing. You feel you want to somehow release them from their confinement.

A fool and his money are soon parted, goes the saying, and that is at the heart of the play. Each town officer does his best to bribe Khlestakov, the (non-) inspector, and as that wretch realises what is going on, his requests for money get bigger and bigger. At the end, the entire town has made an idiot of itself, and our anti-hero has sped off, cash in hand, looking for some other sad saps to dupe. It’s a very credible cautionary tale. But this production is most definitely not the sum of its parts. Too much shouting, inadequate use of the stage, some roles bizarrely underplayed whilst others are overplayed, it feels very unbalanced. There’s not enough light and shade, and despite their best efforts you never really get an understanding of the peril that the townspeople face. Individual rounds of applause are reserved for the three musicians who pop up during scene changes, and for an amusing but hardly original design trick of having a little carriage dart all around the stage, depicting the escape of the villainous clerk Khlestakov and his servant Osip. I saw that done in On The Twentieth Century in 1978 – it was mildly amusing then and it’s mildly amusing now.

True to Gogol, the play ends with a final tableau for what feels like at least a minute, daring individual audience members to start the final applause, whilst most of us just sit uncertain and uncomfortable at what we’re seeing. Whilst I admire this faithfulness to the original text, it does put the audience through an ocean of odd reactions and emotions, and you just want to look away!

There are some successful performances – Lloyd Hutchinson is good as the Mayor, a fiery mass of anxiety and overconfidence, and Miltos Yerolemou and Paul Rider work together excellently as Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky, the two minor officials who are almost two parts of the same body. Nick Haverson gives the best performance of all as Osip, the servant, ruthlessly and viciously putting his own interests first, no matter what his master wants.

Sylvestra le Touzel and Laurie Ogden play the mother and daughter looking and sounding like Mrs Slocombe and Liz Truss, which is an alarming visual prospect; for me, their performances never felt credible or, sadly, entertaining. Tom Rosenthal’s Khlestakov is a competent performance but neither larger than life enough to convince us of his importance, nor measly enough to convey truthfully that he is a smalltown clerk.

I’ve never seen a Saturday night Festival theatre audience so empty, and I’m afraid it was even emptier after the interval. The comedy gets lost in the franticness, and this production simply doesn’t work.

 

Two Disappointing For More!

Review – The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 10th May 2025

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Our summer Chichester season for 2025 kicked off with a new musical based on Rachel Joyce’s book, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, with music and lyrics by Passenger and the book by Joyce herself. I’m not familiar with the original novel, which was longlisted for the 2012 Man Booker Prize, nor the film of 2023 starring Jim Broadbent, nor the musical back-catalogue of Passenger, so I approached the show with no expectations or preconceptions whatsoever – often a good thing.

A deceptively simple story, it tells the tale of the retired Harold Fry who, having received a letter out of the blue from an old friend and work colleague, Queenie, saying that she’s now living in a hospice in Berwick upon Tweed, decides, on a whim, to walk all the way from Devon to Berwick to visit her. On his way, he meets various people whose lives he enriches by his kindness and simple determination, and who in turn affect him and his view of the world. His influence grows and he becomes so inspirational that he’s an unintentional Insta sensation! Initially it infuriates his wife, Maureen. Their marriage had become stale and grumpy because of a breakdown in communication, but eventually both come to terms with a re-evaluation of their lives.

Samuel Wyer’s design for the show is also simple and straightforward; a bare stage, but with tables, chairs, shop fronts, front doors, and so on all rapidly wheeled on and off to suggest the various locations of the story. Katy Rudd’s ensemble of actors all work their socks off to get the settings into position, bringing props on and off the stage with impressive dexterity; and there are some terrifically unexpected costume changes, such as when “Garage Girl” sheds her shop assistant’s uniform to reveal a shiny, glitzy blue tasselled outfit worthy of Diana Ross and the Supremes.

It’s a very charming, emotional, show; closer to The Hired Man than 42nd Street, but you probably guessed that already. All the characters in the story go on a journey, not just Harold and his big trek, but all the people he meets en route; and it’s not just a physical journey. All those aspects of ourselves that we never have the time or opportunity in everyday life to consider, those abilities or talents, those hidden passions, those secret truths, all come out along the way. It’s always rewarding when, at the end of a play, a book or film, you’ve been taken to a different place from where you went in, and The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry does that with great success.

The music truly helps us all on the journey, with delightful songs that move the story forward. Three such gems are Walk Upon the Water, which encourages Harold to have the courage of his convictions, Shout it From the Rooftops when the Silver Haired Gentleman is convinced that it’s finally time for him to be honest about his sexuality, and Such is Life, sung by the Farmer’s Wife, which is one of the most positive statements I’ve ever heard about coming to terms with childlessness. The style of music also heavily suggests countryside, not just bucolic bliss, but nature red in tooth and claw too. There’s nothing romantic or tranquil about the state of Harold’s feet after walking that far. And there are lessons to be learned about the power of thought too.

The production boasts some terrific performances. Jack Wolfe, just about the only good thing about the RSC’s ghastly Magician’s Elephant a few years ago, here plays “The Balladeer”, a kind of spirit character who both encourages and influences Harold on his journey as well as narrating the story. He has a fragile, ethereal stage presence perfect for the role and a brilliant voice to boot. His significance develops as the tale unfolds, but I’m not going to spoil that revelation for you.

Sharon Rose is also superb in the roles of Garage Girl and Kate, a powerful, comedically gifted performer with a great voice and presence. Tarinn Callender excels in many roles but particularly as Wilf, Fry’s number one Pilgrim. And there’s fantastic support from Amy Booth-Steel as the Farmer’s Wife, Queenie and other roles, Don Gallagher as the Silver Haired Gentleman and the dreadful Mr Napier, Madeleine Worrall as Sister Philomena at the hospice, and knock-out puppetry from Timo Tatzber who brings “Dog” to life with such character and lovability.

The always tremendous Jenna Russell is on top form as Maureen, although it is a shame that she has so few singing opportunities; and Mark Addy is excellent as Harold, the pivotal character to whom things happen rather than his making them happen. His is a curious character in many regards, perhaps more notable for what he is not than what he is; but Mr A commands the stage with natural authority.

It tells its story clearly and packed with emotion – there’s a desperate rush for the Handy Andies at the end, so be warned. A very clever combination of the powerful and the gentle which makes you feel just that little bit more hopeful for mankind at the end.

P. S. Neighbour Rex traces Fry halfway around the country and meets up with him so that Maureen can Facetime him; Harold left in such a hurry he forgot to take his mobile with him. But why the heck doesn’t Rex bring Harold’s phone, to give him? It makes no sense! That blip in the logic of the piece really annoyed me!

P. P. S. I humbly suggest they could do with changing the title of the song, You’re Fucked. Not through any sense of prudishness, but they ought to take a leaf out of A Chorus Line’s book. In that show’s early try-outs, people would look at the programme before the show, see that there was a song called Tits ‘n’ Ass, have a good chuckle about it, and then not laugh much when it appeared during the show. They then decided to rename it Dance Ten Looks Three so that the surprise could be hidden until the last moment. Similarly, the audience for Harold Fry has a good chuckle when they see there’s a song called You’re Fucked; as a result, that means it has less of an impact during the show. Just call it The Doctor’s Song instead!

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows