Tag Archives: Chichester

Review – Amadeus, Festival Theatre, Chichester, 2nd August 2014

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After a much needed nap – I think the matinee of Miss Julie (and the Chablis) really took it out of us – we wandered back to the newly refurbished Chichester Festival Theatre to see the final performance of Jonathan Church’s revival of Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus. The theatre foyer has had a very effective makeover, giving an impression of much more space for the punters to mill around (and on a busy night, there are a lot of those), many more bars and café areas and, as it felt to me, great improvement on customer service. I really liked the way there was someone to help you find your interval drinks – reassuring in what can sometimes be a scrum.

I clearly remember seeing the original production of Amadeus at the Olivier Theatre. It was 14th July 1980, seat G59 in the stalls. The ticket cost £5.30. (I don’t have a photographic memory by the way, I simply found my ticket stub.) A dream team of performers headed by Paul Scofield, Simon Callow and Felicity Kendal. I can remember being completely overwhelmed at the brilliance of Paul Scofield. It was a mesmerising performance,quite possibly the best individual performance I’d seen by that time, and I can’t think that I’ve seen that many better since. I remember being perplexed at the pronunciation, though. “Amádeus”, whispered the citizens of Vienna, stressing the second syllable as if they were ordering that ubiquitous Portuguese rosé of the time. No such pompous nonsense in this new version, where it’s good old-fashioned “Amadéus”, as in Falco’s 1985 worldwide pop hit.

Court Composer Salieri is on his deathbed and relives his life and times in musical service to Emperor Joseph II – specifically in regard to the arrival of that impudent and irreverent musical genius, one Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Salieri was a humdrum composer, a safe pair of hands, writing uninspired fodder that did the musical job but nothing more. By contrast, Mozart could write a symphony in a day, could memorise anything he’d heard just the once and then extemporise and improve on it; and moreover he could sleep with any opera singer he wanted – especially the one that Salieri had had his eye on for ages. None of this was going to endear the young pretender to the established composer. From then on, Salieri’s continued status relied on his working hard to undermine all Mozart’s attempts at furthering his position, by being a false and duplicitous friend, tricking his wife into a position where she would compromise her virtue (such as it was), and, at the end of it all, poisoning him. Or did he?

Before I’d seen the play the first time, I’d never given the first thought to what Mozart’s character might be like. I’ve no idea whether Peter Shaffer’s version of him is true, but it’s a great juxtaposition of ideas that the creator of such immortal and beautiful music should be a manure-mouthed little jerk, irresponsible, irritating and irredeemably immature. The court may well love what he produces, even if his works do contain “too many notes”, but there’s no reason to love him at all. The difference between Mozart’s behaviour and the dignity of the rest of the court is a great source of, at first, humour, and, later, tragedy, as Mozart falls further and further into decline.

This is a staggeringly good production. Simon Higlett has designed a beautiful backdrop that conjures up aristocracy, class and elegance, and which neatly provides extensive stage entrance and exit opportunities. Other than that, and some occasional furniture, the stage is bare to allow for the maximum freedom of movement for the large cast. Fotini Dimou’s costumes are immaculately in keeping with the time and the place. Tim Mitchell’s lighting design is superbly evocative; whether it be at the very beginning when all the candelabras light up and ascend into the heavens, or individual moments when Salieri is picked out by a ray of sharp light from above, it was all exquisite.

Hardly off stage is Rupert Everett as Salieri, an immense tour de force that takes your breath away. He glides effortlessly from senile old man with fragile voice and stooping gait to feted courtier with grand gestures and magisterial tone. The role requires a lot of engagement with the audience as he comments on the characters and events that unfold, so Mr Everett’s fantastic stage presence works a treat as he gains our confidence and shared his secrets with us, so that we really feel we know the character intimately. I’ve only seen him on stage once before – in his early 1980s West End debut, in Another Country, in which he was brilliant. I feel like I’ve missed out a lot, not having seen him in the meantime.

Joshua McGuire is perfect for the role of Mozart. With his cheeky smile and bouncy personality, he gives the character a horrendously shrieky laugh that you instinctively know is just right. He really conveys the childish, impetuous, uninhibited aspects of a personality who would have been told he was brilliant when he was just six and has never let the world forget it. He is excellently matched by Jessie Buckley as Constanze, a little (but not much) more responsible than Mozart, as polite in court as she can be (with her usual “oh ta very much” response to compliments), superbly reflecting the youthful exuberance of being young and in love, her humiliation at being abused by Salieri, and her woe in the declining years at the loss of her old Wolfie. There’s also excellent support from such trusted old hands as John Standing as Count Orsini-Rosenberg, Timothy Kightley as Count von Strack, and a delightfully under-enthusiastic but terribly polite Emperor Joseph played by Simon Jones – “there it is”. James Simmons and Derek Hutchinson make a great double act as the venticelli, the little winds that blow rumour into Salieri’s ears – a linguistic fugue if ever there was one. Jonathan Church’s revival played for a criminally short three-week run. This surely must be a worthy candidate for a London transfer. If you were lucky to see it, wasn’t it great? If you missed out – book earlier next time!

P. S. I rarely give standing ovations, even in a show I’ve really enjoyed. It has to be in the top 1 or 2% of all shows for me to give that accolade. As I’d put this show in, say, the top 5%, I didn’t join in the standing ovation that many of the other patrons gave it. However, when Rupert Everett announced during curtain call that, for that final performance of Amadeus, we had none other than Peter Shaffer in the audience – and I turned around and saw he was barely a few seats away – it was an honour for me to stand and applaud the writer of not only this but Equus, The Royal Hunt of the Sun, Black Comedy, White Liars, Five Finger Exercise, The Private Ear and the Public Eye, amongst many others. His has been an outstanding contribution to 20th century drama.

Review – Miss Julie / Black Comedy, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 2nd August 2014

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For many years Mrs Chrisparkle and I have paid an annual pilgrimage to Chichester, invariably seeing a play at the Minerva in the afternoon and in the Festival Theatre in the evening. This year, it only took one look at the summer schedule to realise that one visit would not be enough. So for 2014 we are having three trips to Chichester – and this was the first!

Considering when I were a lad I did post-graduate research at London University into the effects of the withdrawal of Stage Censorship in 1968, it’s an outrageous confession that I have to make: I’ve never seen a production of Strindberg’s Miss Julie before. In fact, I’m not entirely sure I’d even read it. I devoured Ibsen as a teenager, but for some reason Strindberg was never on the same menu. This new Chichester production was therefore a golden opportunity to put that right. Although it was written in 1888, and despite several attempts from producers to stage it, it didn’t get a licence for a public performance in Britain until 1938. Even then, the censor insisted the word “whore” be replaced with “filth”. But the Lord Chamberlain’s Office couldn’t hold the tidal wave of literary appreciation for this play back any more: “The play may disgust some, but it can corrupt nobody. No footman nor chauffeur need fear the more for his virtue for its passing, not society disintegrate in one glorious orgy in the servants’ hall”. That must have been a relief.

So what is (or was) so shocking about this play? Miss Julie comes from noble stock but she acts like a guttersnipe. Her one desire is to seduce the valet Jean, to steal him from under the nose of his virtuous fiancée Kristin. Once she is “maiden no more” the character of Jean changes somewhat. He manipulates Miss Julie to steal money from her father so they can run away to start a hotel together; you can see his cruelty in the “beheading the bird” scene. Once her courage goes and she realises she has no alternative but to end it all, Jean encourages her to slit her throat with a shaving razor. It’s true – it’s not what you’d call a “nice” play. But it’s very powerful – and Rebecca Lenkiewicz’ new version is a rivetingly disturbing watch, even allowing for its wry treatment of the few passages of dark humour.

Andrew D Edwards’ excellent set is very naturalistic (as it should be for Strindberg), with a decent kitchen table and a proper working sink, but otherwise quite bare and comfortless; and Jamie Glover’s direction is taut and tense, letting the words do the work. Rosalie Craig is a very convincing Miss Julie – bewitchingly seductive with more than a touch of the dominatrix in the way she abuses her position of authority. You can just imagine her with her ex-fiancé, her insisting that he jump over her riding whip – you really wouldn’t want to mess with her. But as her plans fall apart she shows great vulnerability too, and the final scene, when she is completely trapped in the web of her own making, is very moving. Shaun Evans (who I’ve only ever seen before as TV’s Endeavour), plays Jean as a great manipulator; very calculating, very deliberate, innately violent – very much the fire with which Miss Julie plays and gets burned. There’s also a superb performance by Emma Handy as Kristin, the cook; a realist who knows she cannot compete with Miss Julie for Jean’s attentions, whether it be because of status or vivacity. It’s a very intense one hour twenty minutes, demanding your full attention but rewarding you with powerful story-telling and a fine production.

You probably couldn’t have a greater contrast for the second of the two one-act plays, even though both deal with infidelity. Peter Shaffer’s Black Comedy first appeared in 1965, also at Chichester, with Derek Jacobi as Brindsley and Maggie Smith as Clea. Kenneth Tynan had commissioned the play to be produced by the National Theatre together with a revival of – you guessed it – Miss Julie; so this double-bill could only have been more appropriate had it happened next year as a 50th anniversary production. If you don’t already know – it’s the simple story of Brindsley, an aspiring but impoverished artist, and his squeaky-voiced girlfriend Carol,hosting a small party in order to impress a) millionaire art collector Bamberger who just might buy one of Brindsley’s pieces and b) Carol’s blusterful military Colonel father in the hope he will approve of their marriage. To give the flat a more artistic flair, they temporarily nick furniture and antiques from their prissy neighbour Harold (who’s away for the weekend, and who would never let anyone else touch his prize objects). Just before the Colonel and the millionaire are due to show up, a fuse goes, and the flat is plunged into darkness.

Or into light, as it happens, as the whole play is presented the other way round. When they have no power and cannot see, the stage is lit; when the electricity is working and everyone acts normally, the stage is dark. Matches and torches get struck and are switched on, at which time the stage is half-lit. It’s a very inventive construct. Cue for a hilarious farce, with a barking Colonel, a batty old lady, an unexpectedly returned prissy neighbour, an even more unexpectedly returned ex-girlfriend, and a perfect case of mistaken identity between the millionaire art collector and the man from the London Electricity Board. It’s one of those farces where you have to keep your teeth permanently clenched and you peer at the stage between gaps in your crossed hands, so cringe-making are the scrapes that our hero digs himself into. At one stage the elderly lady seated to my left was laughing so much she had to grab hold of my arm to steady herself. It really is an extraordinarily funny play and is given a deliciously funny production, with some great performances and fantastic comic business.

At the heart of it is a brilliantly physical performance by Paul Ready as Brindsley, tripping over carpets, bumping on his arse all the way down the stairs, walking into doorframes and generally wreaking havoc for an hour or so. However, I think the two supreme comic moments were when Jonathan Coy (always an asset to an comedy cast) as the Colonel, sat down on the replacement rocking chair, and Samuel Dutton, as the diminutive Bamberger, “discovered” the cellar. There’s a lovely performance by Marcia Warren as Miss Furnival, who’s played baffled old ladies as long as I can remember, discovering the drinks cabinet for herself; and also excellent support from Robyn Addison as posh totty Carol, whose sweetness turns sour on encountering her rival, and comedy stalwart Mike Gradyas the Germanic and artistically enlightened Schuppanzigh. Also taking part from the Miss Julie cast are Shaun Evans as Harold, brimming with tart petulance when he discovers that Brindsley’s been seeing other women, and Rosalie Craig as a thoroughly unpredictable and sparky Clea, intent on making the situation as bad for Brindsley as possible. The cast work together seamlessly to create a great ensemble performance – and the audience loved it. The whole double bill forms a splendidly enjoyable production, balancing out harsh tragedy with uproarious farce. One more week to go – it closes on 9th August.

P. S. Mrs C and I thought we would try the Minerva Brasserie for a pre-theatre lunch. What a good idea that was! Three fantastic courses and some cheese, and a top bottle of Chablis, perfectly chilled, all served with a friendly politeness and in a very comfortable setting too. There’s excellent provision for coeliacs too, with plenty of gluten-free choices, including unexpected g-f bread to accompany the cheese, which Mrs C said was really yummy. We’ll certainly be doing that again!

Review – Barnum, Theatre in the Park, Chichester, 20th July 2013

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Having seen “If Only” at the Minerva theatre in the afternoon, we took a leisurely stroll through the town to Marks and Spencer to buy a picnic, which we subsequently enjoyed sprawled out in the glorious early evening sunshine in the grounds of Chichester Cathedral. Prawn crackers, various salads, lots of fruit and a bottle of Macon Burgundy. Occasionally the CCTV camera turned its lens towards us, and I did wonder if perhaps we were breaking some bye-law, but I doubt whether the Powers That Be were over-concerned at a middle-aged couple taking a relaxed, if slightly boozy, repast in God’s Garden.

Then it was back to the Festival theatre site. Not to the Festival Theatre itself, as it is currently being renovated to celebrate its first fifty years. I am sure they will do a splendid job of it. So there are no shows in that theatre this summer; but they have come up with a splendid alternative, the Theatre in the Park. The park in question is Oaklands Park, adjacent to the Festival theatre, and the Park theatre is a big top canvas type structure that resembles a circus tent -and what better show to revive for this season than Cy Coleman and Michael Stewart’s Barnum. It’s an enchanting walk up the path to the theatre – staff are now positioned at various points along the way to welcome you, much like the gamesmakers at last year’s Olympics. Once you reach the theatre there is a real summer circus vibe, and inside they have constructed a really useful and lively acting space – horseshoe shaped, much like the Festival theatre, with a big round stage and circussy drapes at the back that hide the band and all the backstage gubbins.

I remember going to see the original production of Barnum at the London Palladium with the Dowager Mrs Chrisparkle – on 3rd August 1981, according to my ticket stub; look – I even still have my invitation to Jenny Lind’s free concert on the White House lawn! The show starred Michael Crawford, who was probably at the peak of his stage prowess at the time and he gave the most starriest of star performances. He had this extraordinary ability to convey showmanship and vulnerability at the same time, and no opportunity was missed to impress you with his style and panache or to take you all the way down to whicheveremotional depths he wanted. Mrs Chrisparkle and I also saw a touring production in July 1996 at the Wycombe Swan with Andrew O’Connor in the role. I remember enjoying it very much, but it doesn’t seem to have left a mark in history.

And now on to 2013 and our new Barnum, Christopher Fitzgerald; a rising star on Broadway but pretty much unknown in the UK. At 5ft 5in, he’s a mini powerhouse of talent; engaging, funny and he packs a great vocal punch. He’s great at doing clever comic business and communicates well with the audience. On the night we saw it, which admittedly was still a preview, he didn’t get all the way with the tightrope act, although I understand he’s got better since then! Mrs Chrisparkle and I really enjoyed his performance; but comparisons with Michael Crawford would be odious, so I won’t go down that route. He really did excel though, in the “Barnum’s Lament” sequence, sat on the edge of the stage looking as though the Earth had caved in on him. That’s when he really tapped in to the emotions.

Tamsin Carroll is Chairy, his long-suffering wife, and she gives a cracker of a performance. I’m sure every husband in the audience winced at her withering expressions as she attempted to keep her Taylor in check. She’s also a great singer and has terrific stage presence. One of the perplexing things about the show is how readily Chairy accepts Barnum back after he’s been gallivanting with Jenny Lind for six months; considering that at other times he has to act the lion tamer to her man-eating beast, it’s a bit of a character inconsistency. Nevertheless, Miss Carroll and Mr Fitzgerald together create a terrific stage partnership.

As for the rest of the cast, they’re all excellent; the majority of the other main characters have one big song each, and they all carry them off superbly. I loved Aretha Ayeh as Joice Heth, the oldest woman in the world, singing that great song “Thank God I’m Old” wheeling around in her bath chair; it comes quite early in the show and really gives it a superb lift. Jack North is a cheeky little General Tom Thumb tapping his way through “Bigger Isn’t Better”, nearly but not quite being upstaged by the inventive stage appearance of Jumbo the elephant. And there’s a fabulous performance by Anna O’Byrne as Jenny Lind, who really could be the new Swedish nightingale; she’s stunningly beautiful, has the voice of an angel; no wonder Barnum was led astray.

The staging of the show is really arresting – the big numbers are exceptional and memorable. The band members entering the auditorium individually at the beginning of the second act for “Come Follow The Band” sent a shiver up my spine – but then I do always have a weak spot for traditional circus; plus we got some great acrobatics performed right up close to us. “Join The Circus” is a stirringly wonderful song that the whole cast and audience can get behind; but definitely one of the main highlights for me was “One Brick At A Time”, where the whole ensemble chuck bricks around the stage to build the American Museum, and it’s a mesmerising routine. One dropped brick and the whole thing would be a disaster!

It’s an ensemble that’s chock-full of talent; amongst them, I was really impressed by James O’Connell who is a great dancer considering he’s a relatively big chap and in the final scenes of the show he turns in a very convincing appearance as Mr Bailey, Barnum’s business partner with whom he worked for the last ten years of his life. There are some strong guys in that ensemble too, especially those holding the planks of wood that Chairy climbs up; there’s obviously an enormous amount of respect and trust between cast members – the two guys that hold her secure as they turn the plank around with her standing on it do a fantastic job!

It’s an intriguing decision to remove the traditional role of Ringmaster and make it into a puppet-style performance with an off-stage voice; I’m not sure it has quite the same impact as the original presentation – Mr William C Witter who played the Ringmaster at the Palladium was constantly doing circus tricks and stunts throughout the show. However, we loved the simple but effective suggestion of the fire at the museum by the use of flares thrown down on to the stage; and I should also give mention to the brilliant band under the direction of Adam Rowe, whom the audience didn’t want to let go home as we kept demanding encores after the show had finished! They make a fantastic contribution to the show.

You come away with a lightness of heart and a touch of magic in your soul, which is only enhanced by the nighttime view of the park and the lights outside that lead you back to civilisation and the car park. It’s a superb revival with some class performances and a great ensemble and I would be very surprised if it doesn’t get a well-deserved transfer. If you’re in Chichester this summer, it’s a must.

PS Last year, on our eternal quest for some decent gluten-free breakfasts, we discovered Spires Bakery on Crane Street. We went back again this year, and it’s as good as ever. Not only did we have top quality cooked breakfasts on Sunday morning, but we popped over for a cheeky Saturday lunch, where Mrs C asked for a Brie and Bacon gluten-free toasted sandwich and she said it was to die for. High praise indeed.

Review – If Only, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 20th July 2013

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Once again it’s time for Mrs Chrisparkle and I to go on our annual pilgrimage to Chichester. Time was, when we lived in a little hamlet in north Bucks, that we thought Chichester was the centre of the universe; so much life there, so cosmopolitan. So many shops, restaurants, pubs and, of course, its amazing theatre. Now, we live in the thumping heart of the lively metropolis that is Northampton, we realise that Chichester isn’t all that lively really. It’s a sleepy little place where it’s very hard to get a drink after midnight, and trying to get a meal much past ten at night is a challenge too.

Nevertheless, we still enjoy our visits for the local charm and summer picnics, and the theatre. Because it’s almost a three-hour trip we tend to get tickets to a matinee and an evening show and stay overnight – make a weekend of it. And this year, for our matinee choice, I chose David Edgar’s new political work, If Only. When I was a teenager I was really impressed by his big work for the National Theatre, “Destiny”. It seemed all-encompassing, as it looked back from current day 1976 to partition in India in 1947. Later, of course, he would be responsible for that wonderful two-part adaptation of Nicholas Nickleby, which condensed 900 pages of prose into 8 hours of thrilling stage drama. I’ve not seen anything else by David Edgar, so I was very keen to see how he would tackle a political drama about the coalition.

It’s an interesting premise. The first act shows our three political animals, one Labour, one Lib Dem and one Tory, stuck at Malaga Airport in 2010 whilst all the flights are cancelled due to the Icelandic Volcano. The general election is in a few weeks and these are important times for campaigners, MPs and wannabe MPs. Basically, the three of them need to get home as soon as possible, but every option seems to turn to dust. Eventually they buy an old banger, which gets them – neither quickly nor easily – back to the UK via Rotterdam; but in the getting there they hold all manner of discussions about the possible outcomes to the election and how they might best be dealt with. Add to this a young student who hitches a lift and throws many a spanner into their communal works, and it’s a real hotch-potch of political ideas, fears and plans.

After the interval we are propelled into a future world – summer 2014. Not long till the general election, UKIP are riding high in the polls, Christine Hamilton is an MP, our Lib Demmer is an MP with more influence than she could have imagined she would have, and our Tory MP is clinging on to the wreckage with concerns for the future. He’s on a mission to change what he fears will be the result of the next election but he needs the help of the others to achieve it; and the success or otherwise of that venture is where the rest of the play suspends.

There’s a lot of good in this play. It certainly gets you thinking about political scheming, and warns against extremism in a very clever and entertaining way. The set is really engaging, with an anxiously pixelating video wall that identifies the time and location of each scene, and which at one stage opens up to reveal a garage and real live Peugeot 205. The set changes completely for the second act, when it simply and effectively recreates a French battlefield chapel. There are some excellent witty observations in the text – I loved the reference to think tanks with a one word Latinate name, and also the fact that the Lib Dem has given up vegetarianism in the second act, which leaves an obvious deduction to be made about principles, just hanging in the air. There’s also the very interesting concept of the eighteenth camel, which gets used to great effect – Google it if you don’t know.

Despite all this though, I don’t really think it’s quite the sum of its parts. Whilst the play is thought provoking it’s also very wordy, and you frequently get the feeling – well I did anyway – that there are aspects of the plot that you haven’t quite understood and regrettably there is no time to catch up. I was also a little disappointed that the three main characters were so stereotypically predictable. The Tory is a toff, the Labour guy is an “angry young man”, and the Lib Dem lady is a well meaning balanced right-on person in the middle of the spectrum. It’s a pity he couldn’t have swapped them around somehow; that could have been very entertaining. The two male characters were a bit shouty – one of Mrs C’s pet hates – and it all seemed to take place at the same pace – which was rather relentless, in fact. This made it feel that it didn’t have a lot of light and shade. There was also a sense of an unbalanced structure; the first act was full of short scenes in different locations, which lent an atmosphere of variety, but the second act was just one scene in one location, which got a bit – dare I say it – boring.

The performances are all very good, although I particularly liked Eve Ponsonby as Hannah, the student, who is awkward and funny in the first act, and returns alarmingly more mature – or at least different – in the second. Whenever she’s on stage, her presence shakes up the other characters and creates more drama and tension. Without her, it’s a little like watching three TV talking heads at times, with a lot of verbiage to take in but not a lot to stimulate the other senses. Jamie Glover plays Peter Greatorex, the Tory, with a nicely played line in automatic arrogance and short temper; and his concern at how he perceives the 2015 election will go is very credible. Martin Hutson makes a good irascible Labour researcher with an indefatigable desire to get the last word in every argument and perpetually prove points. Charlotte Lucas’ Lib Dem Jo Lambert is in many ways the most interesting character as you see the effect that a little sudden power has on her, and she plays it very well. We enjoyed it – to be honest I think Mrs C enjoyed it slightly more than me, as she was more stimulated by the political arguments and concepts. But on balance, I was expecting something slightly more insightful and dramatic.

PS. Sorry to have to say this, but I think the bar at the Minerva is one of the most inept anywhere. When we visited last year, we caused the staff huge inconvenience by requesting a glass of wine. Apparently it was unheard of. This year, they took our interval order, but when we came out at half time they hadn’t prepared them, so we had to chase around from bar to bar trying to find someone to attend to us. Odd, considering that in the Festival theatre they are supremely professional at the beverage catering.

Review – Kiss Me Kate, Festival Theatre, Chichester, 21st July 2012

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Still on our annual Chichester visit, we survived dinner and made our way back to the theatre with the amassing throngs of people wanting a good night out. Trevor Nunn directing a new version of Kiss Me Kate? Obviously a prospect just too delicious to resist, so it was with eager anticipation that we took our Saturday night seats at the packed Festival Theatre on what must have been the first beautiful summer’s evening we’ve had this year.

The set is satisfyingly designed by Robert Jones and features a nice proscenium arch stuck at a jaunty angle, cleverly suggestive of a traditional show portrayed in a wacky way. The backstage scenes look suitably unglamorous; and the scene changes that take place within the “Taming of the Shrew” show are realised by unfurling flimsy fabric backdrop sheets out of a travelling trunk, which is a clever and appropriate idea, and would indeed be very useful for the Venice, Verona, Cremona, Parma, Mantua, Padua tour; although in reality they do come across a little tawdry to look at.

Of all the old Hollywood versions of stage musicals Kiss Me Kate is one of my top favourites. In this Chichester production I found it very hard not to compare the performers with others we’ve seen in the roles before. Comparisons are odious, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t come up with a little odiousness in this review. The last time we saw Kiss Me Kate was at the Savoy Theatre in 1988 with Nichola McAuliffe playing Lilli/Katharine. It was a crowning glory of a performance and she has been a particular favourite of Mrs Chrisparkle ever since. Ms McAuliffe’s “I Hate Men” is as strong a reference point as Dame Edith Evans’ “A Handbag?” So any future Lilli/Katharine has a big task ahead of her in Mrs C’s eyes.

But we had high hopes for Hannah Waddingham, whom we last saw turn in a devastatingly brilliant performance in the Menier’s devastatingly brilliant A Little Night Music a few years ago. And I’m delighted to say Ms Waddingham is every bit as good in this show as you would expect her to be. She breathes charming life into that old plodder “Wunderbar”, is very tender with “So in Love”; and does all the comic business as a furious on-stage Lilli getting revenge on Fred in a genuinely funny way. For Mrs C and me, her “I Hate Men” was a little over-controlled. She really didn’t hate men as much as Nichola McAuliffe. But she makes a good shrew and is a great singer and I think definitely gave the best performance of the night.

Alex Bourne plays Fred/Petruchio, and he’s very good throughout. He portrayed the arrogance of both characters very well, and also his discomfort and wheedling around Lilli when he realises the flowers have gone to the wrong actress is very funny. However, being briefly odious, he’s no Howard Keel. He has some great numbers to deliver, and I was particularly looking forward to “Where is the life that late I led” with its mixture of humour and pathos; a song that must be a complete thrill for a confident performer to smash it (in the common parlance). He really played it for laughs – which he certainly got – but musically I felt it was a slight let down.

For me, the best two set pieces came as a surprise – the two TDH numbers. I was very impressed with the whole performance of Tom Dick or Harry, which got the absolute best out of Holly Dale Spencer as nightclub singer Lois, and supported by Adam Garcia as Bill/Lucentio, Kevin Brewis as Hortensio and Samuel Holmes as Gremio. It had great lightness of touch, entertaining choreography and was thoroughly spirit-lifting. The other officially fabulous number – even more so in fact – was the second act opener Too Darn Hot, fronted by Jason Pennycooke as Fred’s dresser Paul; a terrifically well danced routine, full of life and humour, cheekiness and joie de vivre. This is the second time we’ve seen Mr Pennycooke, and I can tell you he is one talented chap.

As Lois/Bianca, Holly Dale Spencer certainly gives a new meaning to the phrase “wide-eyed”, with, for me, her portrayal occasionally teetering on the edge of credibility. There have been some criticisms of her performance of “Always True To You In My Fashion” – a wonderful song – and I have to say I too found it disappointing. Not because she performed it badly – not at all, in many ways it was a remarkably skilful performance; but one that completely misrepresented the essential meaning of the song and its insight into Lois’ character. IMHO, this funny song should make you think that she is indeed, primarily, always true to Bill; but she might be gently naughty with someone else if it will get her a Paris Hat. This sassy Lois cavorts with the raunchiest of moves to a sleazy arrangement so that you feel all she is lacking is the pole to dance around. I’m guessing this is Trevor Nunn and Stephen Mears’ interpretation of the role, and, personally, I thought it was wrong. And yes, with apologies for my odiousness, I did think fondly of Ann Miller.

David Burt and Clive Rowe were an excellent couple of gangsters, ominously muscling in on Katharine on stage to prevent her from making a bolt for the wings, and did a great job of being over the top whilst strangely keeping it real too. The audience loved their Brush Up Your Shakespeare, which was simply staged and brought out Cole Porter’s wordplay with great clarity. I always forget that in the stage show the great “From This Moment On” is not sung by Lois and her suitors, but by Lilli and her General beau. Whilst Ms Waddingham and Mark Heenehan as the General gave a very good performance, I think the number is much better “Hollywooded” up as it is in the film. But then, the stage presentation of Too Darn Hot is probably better than the film. You pay your money, you etc, etc. The minor roles are all played with huge energy and pizzazz by a very likeable company.

The audience adored it. Many people were up on their feet at the end, which is something I don’t think I’ve seen before with the rather polite and – let’s be honest – elderly Chichester crowd. It is a very entertaining production and certainly worth seeing, with some brilliant moments and outstanding routines, which do well to make up for the lapses. I think it will enjoy a lot of success at the Old Vic.

P.S. After a comfortable night in the central, cheap but a bit Spartan Travelodge, we embarked on our usual quest to find a decent gluten-free breakfast that Mrs C would be able to enjoy. Fortunately for us, the Wetherspoons was so incredibly busy that we would have run out of car park time before we’d get served. Instead we found a little place called Spires on Crane Street. Essentially an old fashioned bakery and tea rooms, with tables outside in the welcoming sunshine. We plonked ourselves down and I went to order.A traditional English breakfast for me; then I explained to the nice lady behind the counter that one of the meals had to be gluten-free. She surprised me by suggesting gluten-free toast and gluten-free homemade bubble and squeak, along with the usual baked beans, tomato, bacon and egg. My breakfast was super; and Mrs C was in her element with a decent cooked breakfast that knocked her socks off. Well done Spires!

Review – The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 21st July 2012

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Time for our annual pilgrimage to Chichester, and this year, for the first time, we visited the Minerva Theatre as part of our weekend. Whereas I always find negotiating the foyers of the Festival Theatre a privileged joy, I didn’t get the same feeling at the Minerva. Once upstairs and in the circle area outside the auditorium entrance, I found the atmosphere stuffy and hot; and the bar area, which is the back side – if you’ll pardon the expression – of the bar in the Brasserie, was unattended – twenty minutes before curtain up at the matinee – not a good sign. We went into the Brasserie to get attention of the bar staff on that side, to be met with a bunch of guys who looked quizzically at our attempt to get a little glass of wine, as if it were a great inconvenience in their “clearing-up-after-lunch” routine. Come on Chichester, you can welcome your punters better than that!

Mrs Chrisparkle and I haven’t seen a lot of Brecht, but this is one play I have always wanted to experience in a theatre. I read it years ago, during the time when I basically read every play I could get my hands on. Written rapidly in 1941 whilst Brecht was in exile in Finland, and unperformed until 1958, the play portrays the rise of an infamous Chicago gangster from the kind of guy people used to laugh at when he came into the room to the kind of guy who could manipulate entire populations to his own wicked ends. It works well on two levels – as the story of the gangster taking over the vegetable trade in Chicago and Cicero; but of course chiefly as an allegory of the rise of Nazism under Hitler from 1929 to 1938. The original UK production didn’t take place until 1967 when Ui was played by Leonard Rossiter. I bet he was brilliant in the role.

The Minerva is a little like a miniature Festival theatre – Roman amphitheatre-shaped, and you have to walk down onto the stage area and around and back up again to find your seat. It’s rather cramped, and not terribly comfortable – at the interval plenty of people were apologising to the person in front for kneeing them in the back during the first act – but the sight lines are perfect. As you enter the auditorium, the stage is set up as a speak-easy, with a group of musicians giving it some 1930s style jazz round the piano; and the tables are beset with hoodlums, all sucking on stage cigarettes which, I have to say, smell repulsive when you’re that close – they’re like cannabis just with a shorter odour life. The play begins in Brecht’s finest tradition, with his breaking down the scene by having an MC address us directly and introduce the gangsters on stage individually, so you know precisely what to expect from them throughout the play.

In many respects it is an extraordinary work, in that it takes the dreadful events of 1930s Germany and re-presents them in a different country under a alternative scenario of lawlessness, but there is no mistaking whatsoever Brecht’s allegorical intentions. His original version of the play has each scene preceded or interrupted by a some written words which tell you precisely the events in history that the scene is meant to represent. In Jonathan Church’s production, he has tried to make it not quite so Brechtian by demoting these information pieces to a double-page spread in the programme. Mrs C and I didn’t discover this until the interval, which is a shame as it would have given the first half scenes an added dimension for us. The play is also written in verse, another distancing Brechtian device, making it on the one hand slightly less realistic but also giving it oddly more gravitas.

It’s also a very nasty play. In this cityscape, if you’re not a gangster, a murderer, a swindler or a thief, then you’re a victim of at least one of the above. There’s no scope for concealing the mental and physical violence; and it brilliantly shows you how a population can get caught up in thrall to an evil man through fear, intimidation, greed and cowardice. Brecht certainly did the world a service when he wrote this play, and if it alerts just one person to the possibility of a new Ui rising to the top of some dunghill who somehow acts to prevent it, then who knows how many lives it could save. The final scene of the play is horrifyingly well done and grimly looks to a vile future. The play ends with a brief epilogue as Ui slowly starts to come out of character and take the voice of the actor playing him, warning us not to be complacent as the bitch that bred this bastard is still breeding.

And that actor in question is Henry Goodman, whom I believe we haven’t seen before, but I have heard a lot of Good Things about him. His performance is nothing short of remarkable. Ui completely consumes him from head to toe, inside and out. He starts off as a wretched little man, the butt of jokes, sunken inside himself like a warped parody of Uriah Heep, but without the apparent humility. As his fortunes improve he visibly swells in height and breadth; his clothes become smarter and better fitting; his confidence grows; his enunciation clarifies and he just becomes a bigger entity until finally he is the full-grown monster. All along, of course, his appearance develops slightly more Hitleresque nuances scene by scene; with the addition of an insignia on his armband, his arms and feet movements as taught by the actor, his sleeked hair, his military clothing, his violent voice, his manic jackboots. It’s horrifying and fascinating, and really drives home the message that this is how evil can come to power. It’s an incredible performance. He also makes the best out of the stylised humour of the play, which personally I found hard to appreciate. The characters are so vile that to laugh with them is to demean oneself. Nevertheless, the majority of the audience found the humour in the role borderline hysterical. Maybe that in itself is evidence of how a charismatic approach can sweep people along in its path.

The acting throughout is of an extremely high quality. The performances of Ui’s three main henchmen are all first class. David Sturzaker as Givola in particular conveyed the “Best Supporting Evil” role, with his vicious ruthlessness cushioned in his otherwise soft and polite floristry trade. You can see how he is the essential nice guy turned bad, and boy is he bad. Michael Feast also gives a superb performance as Ui’s lieutenant, Roma, and his eventual come-uppance almost makes you feel sorry for him – but not quite. Joe McGann’s creepy Giri with the hat fetish is a chilling assassin. His doubling up as the decent investigator O’Casey gives him another meaty scene. The doubling up of William Gaunt as both the corrupt Dogsborough – as whom he is very convincing – and the judge didn’t quite work so well for me as it looked simply as though Dogsborough had landed the prime job of being the judge; particularly as the judge is clearly also corrupt and legitimises the trumped up case against the wretched defendant Fish. I didn’t get the sense of there being two different characters. Amongst the other supporting roles, I was really impressed with the performance of Rolf Saxon as Clark, devious leader of the Cauliflower Trust, another extremely good realisation of a character that on the face of it is laudable and trustworthy but underneath is a dissembling villain.

It is an excellent production of an unpleasant play. I can’t actually say I enjoyed it, but it probably should be compulsory viewing for all young people reaching voting age. Freedom is fragile, democracy easily manipulated. Brecht’s allegory is as relevant today as it ever has been.

P.S. As befits the first sunny weekend in what feels like a decade, Chichester was looking lovely. The matinee of Arturo Ui chucked out at 5.25pm and with a 7.30 start for Kiss Me Kate looming, we didn’t have much time to idle over choosing a dinner location. With the new Marcos having too-expensive-a-menu for simple people from Northampton to contemplate, and with the George and Dragon pub being fully booked, we decided to chance the first place that looked remotely suitable. This turned out to be Clinchs restaurant (there’s no apostrophe in their name, whether that’s right or wrong) and it turned out to be a fairly bizarre experience. After a friendly welcome we sat at comfortable seats on a nice big table and quickly received the menus. We ordered a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and it was very good, nicely chilled; and a recognisable label from supermarket shelves. Ordering took a while; but not as long as the meal did. In the meantime we were amused by the amateur service; a waitress, arms piled high with freshly prepared meals, standing in the middle of the restaurant shouting back to the kitchen “GINA! Where am I taking this lot?” Plates were getting taken to the wrong tables; people were waiting to be served whilst the waitresses were chin-wagging with friends in the garden. We were starting to get a little anxious but at 6.40 it arrived. The food was superb. We scoffed it and asked for the bill, and fifteen minutes later, with no bill presented, just went to the cash desk to pay. The area behind the till was awash with half open bottles of lemonade, wine, juice etc, all bearing Sainsbury’s labels and looking as scruffy as your own kitchen at 2.30am after a long hard party. This new restaurant has the makings of something good, but needs professionalising up a bit!

Review – The Deep Blue Sea, Festival Theatre, Chichester, August 20th 2011

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Our second helping of Rattigan last Saturday was the much acclaimed “The Deep Blue Sea”, originally produced in 1952 in a run that lasted 513 performances. This was a time when Rattigan’s career was really riding high, and in fact many commentators think this is his best play. In “Rattigan’s Nijinsky”, with which we matinéed earlier, Rattigan says “my women are women, and they’re bloody well-written ones”. Hester Collyer, of whom we see a very turbulent day in a rather depressing life, is probably the epitome of this statement. Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, the play starts with her failed gassing suicide attempt and ends with her again turning the gas on but this time merely to light the fire. The character progression prompted Mrs Chrisparkle to announce that the play was a supreme statement of optimism. I just found it hard to get past the sadness that Hester wanted to commit suicide.

What is notable about this production is the way it faithfully represents the 1950s and presents that rather dark age in a completely ungimmicky and unembellished way. If you look at the photo of the 1952 set, it’s virtually identical to the set at Chichester. The main difference is that the gas fire is now downstage so that Hester more or less has to look the front stalls in the eye when she turns the fire on, whereas before it was more discreetly positioned against the upstage wall. The furnishings are practical rather than comfortable; the costumes reflect the repressed and impoverished surroundings. Philip Franks the director has adhered to the three-act format – morning, afternoon and evening of this rather enormous day – and not caved in to the modern desire for the symmetrical structure of one central interval. You feel as though this is exactly how this play would have been presented sixty years ago.

You must draw your own conclusions at to the precise reason for Hester’s suicide attempt, but her two options for bliss are current companion Freddie, who was probably once a bit of a wartime hero but is now an idle drunk, and previous husband William, who is willing to accept her back, but as a possession rather than because of love. Amanda Root’s Hester is brave, calm, sometimes in control, often in agonies of despair. As the two men interact with her you see her formulating her views on them, shoring herself up for the future, and gaining strength from every resolve she makes. It’s a very good performance; tugging at the heartstrings at the right times whilst maintaining whatever dignity she can muster as a failed suicider.

John Hopkins is Freddie; another good performance combining the roguish charm that presumably first attracted Hester with an irascible post-war self-disappointment which has resulted in his becoming a waster. In the RAF he had been a dashing test pilot; with the benefit of hindsight you would now consider him a prime candidate for Gulf War Syndrome or a possible beneficiary of Help for Heroes. There were times in the first act when I felt John Hopkins rushed and garbled his lines a little – so much so that I found some of his speeches a bit hard to follow. And that’s before the character had had too much to drink. Still he very much looked the part and the agonies that Freddie feels came across as real and disturbing.

At the other end of the social spectrum, Anthony Calf’s Sir William Collyer is the embodiment of buttoned-up stiff-upper-lippishness, his ultra-respectability in the rather slovenly surroundings effectively suggesting that their two lives are long past the chance of converging. When he offers to take her back, pointing out that she is devaluing herself by staying with Freddie, there is barely any increase the warmth of his voice, and you know that it’s not a question of love. It’s another very effective performance; I only know Anthony Calf as Strickland in TV’s New Tricks, and I just got a sneaking suspicion that he feels comfortable playing rather cold, authoritarian figures. Was the whole role just a little too easy for him?

Encouraged by the slightly mysterious Mr (Don’t call me Doctor) Miller who attends to her medical needs, Hester’s decision to let both men go their separate ways and to live her life alone is the big positive step at the end of the play. However, despite its forward-looking conclusion, it’s not the kind of play where you bounce out of the auditorium at the end and click your heels jauntily on the way to the car park. It’s a deep, thoughtful and moving play, and this production gives it the full respect it deserves.

Celebrity news: whilst I nipped to the Gents, Mrs Chrisparkle queued to pre-order interval drinks, and in line in front of her was none other than Richard Wilson. That’s twice we’ve been in the same audience as him. Naturally when she told me later I had to let rip an “I Don’t Believe It”, which is the ordained form of response whenever his name is mentioned. One last piece of advice – if you pre-order tea and coffee for the interval, by the time you get to drink it, it’s cold. Stick to the Chenin Blanc in future.

Review – Rattigan’s Nijinsky, Festival Theatre, Chichester, 20th August 2011

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For this year’s Chichester trip, we thought we’d immerse ourselves in the joys of Terence Rattigan’s centenary year. So on a whirlwind day out, we took in a matinee and an evening performance of two different plays, one a Rattigan perennial, the other a more experimental experience, both directed by Philip Franks, and with a number of the same actors in both.

A few years before he died, Rattigan was working on a TV screenplay about Nijinsky (not the racehorse) and his relationship with Diaghilev. The story goes that Rattigan pulled it from the BBC production team because of an argument about its content with Nijinsky’s widow Romola. Thus it was never made, performed or even published. “Rattigan’s Nijinsky”, by Nicholas Wright, takes Rattigan’s screenplay – or some of what remains of it – and creates a new play with Rattigan himself centre stage, in a suite at Claridge’s, having meetings with Romola and his BBC director, but principally seeing his screenplay unfold through his mind’s eye; observing the interactions between Nijinksy, Diaghilev, Romola, and his other characters. So there is the challenge for the director – making the reality of the Claridge’s suite and the imagination of the screenplay co-exist on the stage.

In the words of Linda Barker, I thought it worked really well. The occasional change of lighting, and occasional soft sound effect, help separate the two but for the most part, it’s as real on stage as it is real in Rattigan’s mind. Upstage becomes a dance studio or a ship’s deck; centre stage is Claridge’s sofa and champagne, with characters from the hotel drifting in alongside characters from the story. But what’s the purpose behind it all? My original thoughts were that a lot of it was about the vividness of the creative experience – Rattigan imagining the play going on around him – enjoying some of it, finding other parts disturbing, rather like an ordinary member of the audience. Mrs Chrisparkle felt it was more of a drug trip. Rattigan’s declining health is causing a lot of pain and he frequently reaches for a dodgy elixir acquired in Bermuda. The more he drinks this painkiller, the more bizarre some of the apparitions become. On reflection, I think she’s got it right. This raises lots of interesting questions about what is real and what is imagined, and gives the whole play an additional dimension of curiosity.

Having the same actor play Nijinsky and Donald the room-service boy, who wants to provide Rattigan with something distinctly off-menu, (or is that Rattigan’s wishful thinking?) is very effective as characteristics of the one get merged into the other. Joseph Drake puts in two very good performances in what must be a physically demanding two and a half hours, with several costume as well as character changes. Similarly, Jonathan Hyde plays both Diaghilev and Cedric the BBC man. These two characters couldn’t be further apart.Diaghilev is eerily elegant, with something of the vampire in his appearance, feasting on easily-led young men, and not used to being thwarted; Cedric is a scruffy laid-back guy, appreciative of Rattigan’s artistry but more concerned with the practicalities of dealing with the BBC hierarchy. Jonathan Hyde captured the essence of both men really well, and despite his affected appearance made Diaghilev a totally believable character.

It’s not all deep and meaningful. The scene with Cedric, for example, is also hilarious, as is the scene between Rattigan and his mother, and much of the play has a very nice undercurrent of humour that keeps it moving along. Personally I thought the second act got slightly bogged down at one stage; Mrs Chrisparkle thought I was being too critical.Maybe that was the effect of the interval glass of Chenin Blanc that I can highly recommend. Something we both completely agreed about was a really awful moment early on in the play when Nijinsky as a boy is being taken through his paces by the Ballet Master. The boy is challenged to leap high, over a stick held out by the Ballet Master; which the boy then raises, implying he can leap higher than that. Nice, I thought; shows his confidence and arrogance, and also implies he’s a damn good leaper. But then his leap is represented by them lifting the boy up so that he is held in a tableau pose that I can only say makes him look like Michael Flatley’s love child in some nightmare form of “Lord of the Dance”. It’s ridiculous, unsubtle and a bit embarrassing. I’m sure a talented director like Mr Franks could have found a better way of communicating that to the audience. No criticism of young Jude Loseby playing the nine-year-old Nijinsky who I thought otherwise was rather good.

At the heart of the play is Malcolm Sinclair’s performance as Rattigan. He’s quite a favourite actor of ours, having been in the wonderful Racing Demon earlier this year – we still don’t understand why that didn’t transfer. Here again he commands the stage with a natural authority, engaging easily with the audience so they are completely on his side; his facial expressions and vocal delivery allowing us to see into the real Rattigan, the one we could never see when he was alive. It’s a great performance – but I also think Nicholas Wright has written a pretty good role too. I confess I was moved to buy the play text afterwards.

It’s an excellent ensemble, and everyone carried it off well; perhaps an additional mention to Susan Tracy as (inter alia) the elder Romola, full of tight-lipped ire in a superbly well-written scene, and also as Rattigan’s mother, desperately trying to pry into her son’s private life but still never seeing the truth.

It’s an experimental production, and definitely worth the experiment. It gives you much to think about, and is definitely one of those plays you discuss for some time after. I still think a lot of the play is about the creative experience – something I always enjoy in a piece. I also find it satisfying when the characters don’t end up at the same place as where they started – and Rattigan’s character development keeps you on edge, let alone the very active and absorbing story about Diaghilev and Nijinsky. The audience at last Saturday’s matinee was disappointingly small – perhaps half full – but very enthusiastic in its response. There are only three performances left before it closes on 3rd September; if you can get it to see it, I would highly recommend it.

Review – A Month in the Country, Chichester Festival Theatre, October 9th

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Every year we take an annual pilgrimage to Chichester to see a production at the Festival Theatre. This is our fifth year – and I reckon this is the second best production we’ve seen there. (The two part dramatisation of Nicholas Nickleby is still tops.)

When you enter the theatre you’re in for a treat. The stage appears enormous! You see the back of the Islayev house, and the garden – and the trees! Trees shoot up from the back of the stage and their branches overhang the auditorium right up to the back row, welcoming you into this idyllic environment. You get to see inside the house, through windows, pathways round the back, and the details of the garden – real plants, a real water pump (with real water!) This is the kind of realistic staging you can imagine would have been the norm in the Victorian era. And it feels luscious.

Then you have what turns out to be a damn good story. I’ve not seen or read this play before, and I was very impressed. A bored lady of the house with a wandering eye is bewitched by the enthusiastic and unsophisticated charms of the young tutor brought in to teach her son. Unfortunately, so is her 17 year old ward, who age-wise is a much more suitable match. Problems ensue.

It’s a marvellous production. Janie Dee plays Natalya, her soul aflame with love that she knows she really shouldn’t consider, with complete conviction. You get every nuance of her emotions from her expressive eyes, the twitches of her mouth, her languid/coy/come-on body postures. Wonderful.James McArdle, as the target of her affection Aleksey, does an excellent line in gauche enthusiasm, faltering delivery and youthful charm, a Turgenevian David Tennant. You can see how he has been completely overwhelmed by his surroundings and fallen in too deep, without being able to do anything about it.Michael Feast, as the family friend Michel, who has held a candle for Natalya for decades by the sound of it, is by turn impressively forlorn, confused, distressed and decisive.Kenneth Cranham, blustering about as the incompetent and corrupt Doctor Shpigelsky, and looking like Stinky Pete from Toy Story, also gives a first-rate performance. In fact there are no weak links in the cast at all.

I don’t know if it is the brilliance of Turgenev or Brian Friel who has adapted the work for this production, but I really enjoyed the use of soliloquies for Michel and Natalya, asking themselves about their inner feelings and reactions to a situation in a way that I know I do frequently. Very believable.

I also very much enjoyed the use of British regional accents to emphasise who’s “in” and who isn’t.The well-to-do members of the household have splendid clipped southern English accents, whereas the servants are from Lancashire; and the incomer Aleksey is pure Glasgow. The other accent employed was over-the-top German by Teddy Kempner as Herr Schaaf, which was appropriate for a role whose main reason it seemed to me was to laugh at his misuse of language.

Another marvellous aspect of this production is the terrific lighting. The lighting plot takes us through all times of the day and night and plays an important part in the realism of the design. Especially Natalya and Aleksey in the moonlit garden – you could almost touch the moonlight halo that framed their bodies, incredibly effective. It’s officially fabulous.

It’s a super production that certainly deserves a life hereafter.