Review – The House Party, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 4th May 2024 (Preview)

Posted on May 6, 2024 by therealchrisparkle

Strindberg’s Miss Julie was first staged in 1889, and has always been a source of fresh theatrical material, crying out for new directors to have a stab at it, to keep it relevant and contemporary, and to play around with it to get something new out of it. In fact, it was only ten years ago that a new version by Rebecca Lenkiewicz was produced on the very same Minerva stage, preserving the structure and roles of the original play but with 21^st century bite.

Now it’s Laura Lomas’ turn, with her version of the play now called The House Party, co-produced with two of the best production companies around, Headlong and Frantic Assembly, and directed by Holly Race Roughan with her usual feel for a quirky twist. Set in her father’s kitchen, Julie’s wishes dominate all domestic proceedings, including the house party that’s arranged for later that day – hence the title of the play. She’s besties with Christina, who has an interview at Cambridge University in the morning; her beloved and trusted boyfriend Jon is going to drive her there.

Christina and Jon have a good thing going, but Julie is never one to miss a chance to stir things, and when Jon confesses to Julie that he used to fancy her five years earlier when his mum used to come and clean for her dad, she doesn’t dissuade him from – if I may be so crude, gentle reader, thinking with his d*ck. Successfully having ruined the fairytale dreams of her friend, the usual Miss Julie tragic consequences ensue, with heartache, broken trust, livid arguments and a suicide attempt.

Unlike the original, Ms Lomas’ version bookends the classic one-act structure of the play with two extra scenes. In the first, we see Julie and Christina gearing up for the party, a pair of giggling girls preparing to have fun. This allows us to see deeper into the characters and assess for ourselves the extent of their friendship and the risks that either of them might be prepared to take in order to get their own way. The final scene offers us what you might consider to be an alternative ending to the traditional play, but to save the impact that the writer wants it to achieve, I’m not going to say any more about it – don’t want to spoil any surprises for you.

Loren Elstein’s set design is impressive; the stage is dominated by a superb, sleek, top-of-the-range kitchen island that includes concealed wine fridge, dishwasher, cupboards and so on. It emphasises beautifully just how rich Julie’s dad must be to have an enviable kitchen like this; all the best equipment, and a worktop to die for. Upstairs is a bathroom, all modern opaque window wall, like an ensuite in the finest Oberoi hotel bedroom. A statement-making lamp hovers over the plush white sofa (White? What were they thinking?!) and that’s all that’s necessary to suggest this ultra-privileged, ultra-modern lifestyle.

One of my favourite mantras about theatre is that I would prefer to see a brave failure more than a lazy success. It’s very subjective as to what constitutes both failure and success in those terms; there’s absolutely nothing lazy about this production at all, but it doesn’t work 100%. It is, however, very brave in its concept, and despite its failures (I think there are a couple) it’s extremely enjoyable and watchable. Here’s the first problem: this production has a gimmick, which is that audience members form part of the house party guests. Once the prologue is finished and the party gets underway these audience members emerge from behind a darkened screen where they have been watching and waiting like an eerie ghostly presence, filing out into a selection of sofas, seats, chairs and benches.

I must be honest; the on-stage seats look incredibly uncomfortable, as did the poor members of the public as they blundered about the stage trying to find spare seats. It’s a risky undertaking by the production to stage it this way; you fully rely on these audience members to play ball and behave. Bizarrely, it makes zero difference to how we appreciate the play anyway. The only effect it has is to raise a small accidental laugh when audience members have to budge up on the big sofa whilst actors try to squeeze themselves into whatever gap has appeared between them.

Admittedly, in Strindberg’s original, there is a ball taking place off-stage but it rarely intrudes upon the meat of the story. In this production, however, the party takes centre stage, with dynamic dancing and music and light effects, and the constant presence of the audience members who are party hangers-on reminds us all the way through of the fun and games that is happening elsewhere. But the whole notion of the party is completely irrelevant to the story and the dramas that emerge between the three main characters. The final scene, which constitutes a twenty-minute second act, causes those audience members to feel even more surplus to requirement; that party has long finished. Structuring the production on the party is frankly pointless, and although the party dancing is admirably and acrobatically performed, it has no place in the show at all. It’s just a distraction.

The second failure is the fact that the final scene exists at all. In the programme, Laura Lomas states that she wanted it to express her wish that the play shouldn’t “be making a judgment about what kind of life is a life worth living”. One of the strengths of Strindberg’s play is that the final outcome of what we’ve witnessed is left to the audience’s imagination; it’s a deliciously inconclusive ending. The final scene of The House Party, however, eliminates all possibility of doubt and recounts exactly what happened. There’s no room for any I wonder ifs at the end of this show. It is brave; it is bold. But I wish they hadn’t done it.

In the programme Laura Lomas also says she wants the play to remove some of Strindberg’s misogyny that’s inherent in the original. Does it succeed? There’s no doubt that Lomas’ Jon is much less ruthless in his dealings with Julie than Strindberg’s Jean. However, at the end of the day, Jon is still triumphant, getting everything he wants. Julie comes across as much more manipulative than Jon, who’s just led by the horns to do what she wants. Christina remains an under-achiever, accepting a lower position in life than she merits.

The show we saw was only its second preview, but I can’t imagine that the three central performances are going to get any better. This is not the first time I’ve seen the excellent Rachelle Diedericks work with Holly Race Roughan and they clearly have a brilliant understanding of each other. Ms Diedericks is spellbinding as the put-upon Christina, pussyfooting around the subject of Cambridge because it will mean she can’t go with Julie to Thailand, even though Julie puts a lot of pressure on her to cave in. When it’s revealed that Jon has been unfaithful and had sex with Julie, Ms D’s devastation at the news and the realisation that everything she held dearest has been destroyed is tangible. Simply brilliant.

Nadia Parkes is also superb as Julie; exuding power and privilege, you really feel she’s deliberately courting lowlier types with her relationships with both Christina and Jon. Flighty, self-absorbed and loving to lead people astray, she also conveys that wafer-thin balance between self-confidence and mental illness; the kind of person who is both entertaining and terrifying to know.

Josh Finan is terrific as Jon; an equal partner for Christina, and a bit of rough for Julie, displaying the strong class difference that attracts them both to each other. Mr Finan has a marvellous sincerity that makes you believe unquestioningly everything he says, as though Jon were an open book with no hidden agenda. Holly Race Roughan’s direction is tight and intimate despite the large acting area at her disposal, which is successfully sacrificed in the final scene to give an impression of cramped claustrophobia.

It’s a strong production with much to say which benefits from three stupendous performances. Despite any misgivings about the changes made to Strindberg’s original, it’s hugely entertaining and cleverly realised. Don’t buy the on-stage seats though.

Rehearsal photos by Ellie Kurttz

Four They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – The Other Boleyn Girl, Festival Theatre, Chichester, 4th May 2024

Posted on May 5, 2024 by therealchrisparkle

It’s to my shame, gentle reader, that I never even knew there was another Boleyn girl. For someone who ought to have a love of history, I blame bad teachers. And, if I’m honest, being a history-hating kid. Too late to do anything about it now, sigh. Mike Poulton’s new play, based on Philippa Gregory’s best selling romantic novel, is my new gospel on the subject and I am sure it’s one hundred percent historically accurate. I trust.

Mary is the other Boleyn girl in question, used by Henry VIII for some diverting rumpy-pumpy whilst Catherine of Aragon was giving him dark looks. No surprise that Mary had a son by him whilst Catherine was “determined” not to conceive – how simple that period of history could have been if only the young lad had been born legitimate; but no, Henry had to keep banging away, literally, until a legal son and heir would be born. As history recounts, it was, in modern parlance, a big ask. Anne, Mary and their brother George were a trifle unorthodox in their relationships, with the very first scene of the play strongly hinting that they were equally at ease with each other’s bodies; yes, incest does raise its ugly head in this story. So do their hideously ambitious mother Lady Elizabeth and their cruelly manipulative uncle, the Duke of Norfolk. Two very ugly heads.

This is a court where, like Glen Campbell’s Rhinestone Cowboy, nice guys get washed away like the snow and the rain. Mary’s husband William Carey has to watch powerless whilst his wife is regularly summoned to the king’s bedchamber and there’s nothing either of them can do about it. Harry Percy secretly marries Anne Boleyn only to be subsequently “cancelled” and “ghosted”. Only William Stafford is sufficiently lowly of status to keep his head below the radar and end up happily married to Mary for as long as God allowed – which sadly for them wasn’t that long.

Mike Poulton’s adaptation tells a story that brings together many plots, relationships, deceptions, manipulations and a lot of highly unpleasant people with enormous clarity and simplicity. This is not meant to be uncomplimentary, but it felt to me like each scene was an episode in a rather classy soap opera, keeping us hanging on with interest until the next part of the tale would be unfolded. Lucy Bailey directs with appropriate stateliness and brings out a lovely juxtaposition between the formality and privilege of the setting and the common ruthlessness of status and ambition, which only the strongest (and luckiest) survive.

Joanna Parker’s set is austere and foreboding, super-simple in having a few rooms and hiding places at the back in a suggestion of rooms and corridors that we never see – all the machinations at court and elsewhere are played out in the useful open space that dominates the front of the stage. Orlando Gough has composed a few stately dances where backhanded comments can be shared and devious plots hatched. The costumes are classy but darkly severe; even Henry VIII’s outfit is elegant but subdued.

The performances are of an impeccably high standard, with Lucy Phelps giving us a Mary Boleyn with whom we can all identify; juggling her life as enforced Royal whore with trying to do her best to protect her children, being a good wife and fully grappling with the needs of running a farm. Freya Mevor is excellent as Anne Boleyn, ambitious from the start, always with an additional touch of arrogant haughtiness that her siblings lack, but as much a victim as anyone else who came into the orbit of the Court. There’s a terrific scene where Anne demands official recognition of her status from Mary, constantly requiring her to call her Your Grace, which Mary steadfastly refuses to do. Sisters, eh, what are they like? Another Anne highlight is her daring to dominate King Henry by refusing his advances and even physically rejecting him, knowing full well that he will bow to her will – temporarily at least. It was as near to an if you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it moment as you could find in Tudor times. Gripping drama – but with the benefit of dramatic irony, it had the whole audience muttering to themselves oh, she’s going to come to regret this.

James Corrigan makes up the sibling throuple as George; it’s an excellent portrayal of a character who is only ever a supporting cast member, trying to do the right thing for the Tudor dynasty whilst still maintaining his own value and position, hiding his male lover Francis in plain sight whilst saddled with marriage to the ghastly lady-in-waiting Jane Parker (Lily Nichol brandishing very nicely underplayed mischief in the role). Alex Kingston and Andrew Woodall are terrific as Lady Elizabeth and Norfolk, the mother and uncle from Hell, prepared to sacrifice the younger Boleyns’ happiness, health and even necks for the sake of the surname.

Kemi-Bo Jacobs is superb as the dignified and tragic Catherine of Aragon, playing the game that she knows she has to play, and also as the money-grabbing midwife who does her job with brutal callousness. And Oscar Batterham delivers an appealing portrayal of the practical and loyal Stafford; one of those rare characters in and around the Court who simply falls in love, says so, and acts like he does.

At just short of three hours, you’d think this show might drag a little but it never does. There’s always a new plot twist or characterisation to appreciate that keeps our attention throughout; and the simplicity of the storytelling really helps our enjoyment of the play. It continues at the Festival theatre until 11^th May and it’s well worth a trip to the South Coast to enjoy it!

Production photos by Stephen Cummiskey

Four They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

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

Posted on May 3, 2024 by therealchrisparkle

In the last of the Screaming Blue Murders to be held in the Royal theatre (for a while at least), our indefatigable MC Dan Evans held court as usual over a grateful Northampton audience, getting to know those foolish enough to book Rows A or B. This included the Abington nurse who was out for a good time no matter what, the threateningly tattooed Liam and the splendidly named Harrison who described himself as a “stay-at-home son” – good line, that. We also discovered from the man sat directly in front of me that a pair of ordinary Cheaney shoes will start at around £400. Of course we talked shoes. This is Northampton!

First up, and someone we’ve seen twice before, it was the unpredictable silliness of Paul F Taylor, a naturally funny guy who treads a fine line between the surreal and the stupid; a tactic which can pay off fantastically well sometimes, but occasionally might miss the mark. He gave us his excellent routine about how one of our hands is a reliable type and the other is a useless hanger-on; and I really loved his imagining of how dogs got the worst end of being domesticated pets in comparison to cats, and it’s all down to the expert legal team the cats hired. An unexpected heckle sent him slightly off course, but he ended up with an intricate mime routine which at times I found too difficult to follow, and at others all too easy; you had to see it to believe it. A truly inventive comedy brain, it didn’t entirely go to plan but the bits that did, were brilliant.

Next, and in a change to the scheduled line-up, came Kate Lucas, blessed with a voice that’s all sweetness and light, with a guitar that she’s not afraid to use. We’ve also seen Kate twice before and she never fails to mine good belly laughs from her unexpectedly savage lyrics delivered to gentle folky tunes. It’s amazing quite how bitter and vengeful a tone you can adopt whilst playing what is essentially a lullaby. I remembered a couple of these songs from her previous visits to Northampton – including when she was Tez Ilyas’ support act – but if you haven’t seen her before she’s an absolute treat.

Our headliner, and new to us, was Darius Davies; a confident, edgy performer full of attack and presence, and not afraid to stir some hornets’ nests on stage. Intelligence and a quick wit such as Mr D possesses usually put an audience at ease in the knowledge that they’re going to have a good time. But Mr D challenges us with tricky routines, like getting us all to call out Allahu Akbar, or referring to a section of the audience as autistic; boldly tackling racism and prejudice where angels fear to tread. More than once he really took us out of our comfort zone, and rather like Mr Taylor at the beginning of the evening, some of his material landed on fertile soil and some on stony ground. But he has a very winning way about him and commands great interaction with the audience. Maybe the formal setting of the Royal Theatre isn’t quite the right environment for his act; but it was very enjoyable nonetheless.

Next show is on June 16^th in the luxurious surroundings of Screen 2 of the Filmhouse; and a sensational line-up is promised! There’s still time to bag some excellent seats, so don’t delay!

Review – The Buddha of Suburbia, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 30th April 2024

Posted on May 1, 2024 by therealchrisparkle

“Buddha of Suburbia?” I hear you ask. “Wasn’t that the TV series in the 1990s that was full of sex? Disgusting, I tell you.” I didn’t see the programme, so I can’t vouch for its content, and nor – unlike most of the rest of the world – have I read Hanif Kureishi’s best-selling book. But I have seen Emma Rice’s production of the RSC/Wise Children co-production of Rice and Kureishi’s own stage adaptation, on at the Swan Theatre until 1^st June, and believe me, it’s the best thing since sliced chapatis.

Karim greets the audience and welcomes us back into the England of May 1979. Ah yes, I remember it well… the winter of discontent, National Front members roaming the streets, and the upcoming electoral victory of a grocer’s daughter from Grantham. Happy days. If that wasn’t nostalgic enough, we then go back to 1976, to visit the domestic bliss of 17-year-old Karim’s homelife; his yoga-loving father Haroon, his dowdy mum Margaret, his cheeky auntie Jeeta, his grumpy uncle Anwar, his bestie Jamila, and the love of his life, Charlie.

Over the next three hours or so, we witness Karim’s journey to adulthood, through sex and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll; or, rather, fabulous trashy 70s disco which is even better. Relationships, his first acting job, and what the young people of today call adulting – it’s all there. It reminded me a little of the picaresque escapades of Nicholas Nickleby – only without the sex. It isn’t a journey without its problems; mind you, who’s is? For a young man who appears to think a lot, Karim makes a few reckless decisions, leaving others hurt in his wake. But he achieves an enviable personal sense of being at ease with everything that life can chuck at him; lucky lad.

It’s very rarely that every single aspect of a production comes together so stonkingly well. The script is affectionate, insightful, bouncing with comic observations and stunning use of language. Rachana Jadhav’s intricate, compact and yet hugely versatile set manages to convey living rooms, bedrooms, gardens, shops… you name it, it conveys it. Vicki Mortimer’s outstanding costume design picks up all the delightful eccentricities of the 1970s: flares, gaudy colours, cowboy jackets, tunics, and above all, the primary coloured Jockey Y-Fronts that were all the rage. The show is accompanied by a superbly chosen range of music of the era, and choreographer Etta Murfitt has gone to town recreating those marvellously silly dance routines we used to do back in the day. Even elements such as Kev McCurdy’s fight direction and the superbly convincing range of accents are top-notch, as Changez might say.

Emma Rice’s direction brings out so many superb individual performances and the show is peppered with hilarious and telling moments that say so much about a character or a situation with fleeting wordless eloquence; such as the casual flicking out of belly-button fluff or the subtlest of knowing glances. There’s also the most inventive use of fruit ever seen on a stage; be warned!

Every single member of the cast pulls a brilliant performance out of their respective hats. It all starts and ends with Dee Ahluwalia’s captivating Karim, a character who instantly wins you over with his honesty, approachability and charisma, and provides an unbreakable link with us over the whole three hours. It’s an astonishing central performance that’s a major step on the way to making him a star.

Ankur Bahl is also fantastic as his father Haroon, essentially a weak and conceited people-pleaser who spends more time attending to his own needs than anyone else’s; he’s an excellent yogi too! He makes a terrific contrast with Bettrys Jones’ brilliant vision of dowdiness, Margaret, a mass of unkempt hair and suppressed artistic talent. Ms Jones is also excellent as Eleanor, with whom Karim has his first proper relationship; she’s on her own journey that does not necessarily include him.

Natasha Jayetileke gives a strong performance as the unruly free spirit that is Jamila, beautifully ill-matched with Raj Bajaj’s innocent-abroad Changez whom her family have chosen for her to marry. Mr Bajaj provides some of the best laughs but also some truly moving moments as he accepts he’s never going to get everything he wants. Rina Fatania delivers stunning performances in all her roles – the irrepressible Auntie Jeeta, the deliciously lascivious Marlene and the politically correct actor Tracey. Ewan Wardrop gives a sensational performance as the pompous and pretentious director Matthew Pyke – with possibly the best line in the show, addressed to an audience member.

Lucy Thackeray shines as Haroon’s sophisticated second love interest Eva, and Simon Rivers portrays Anwar’s cantankerous and spoilt inner child to perfection. And Tommy Belshaw takes your breath away as he conveys Charlie’s rise as a super-confident and charismatic young man, followed by his subsequent fall as a dashed and destroyed dependent, wasting away before our eyes.

Not one weak spot in the production; and not one thing I wish they’d done differently. Emma Rice always makes you think and surprises you with unexpected tweaks and quirks, but here she has truly excelled herself. Incredible characterisations, superb performances, brilliant direction; a production to relish.

Production photos by Steve Tanner

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Shrek the Musical, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 23rd April 2024

Posted on April 24, 2024 by therealchrisparkle

Another casualty of the RAAC problems discovered at the theatre last year, Shrek the Musical finally lands at the Royal and Derngate, six months later than expected. Kudos to all involved for making it happen; the theatregoers of Northampton will not be deterred from seeing shows just because of some aerated concrete used forty years ago!

The Shrek story is one of continued success and popularity across the decades. The original 1990 children’s picture book became a smash hit film in 2001, with several sequels and spin-offs, as well as this stage musical which first hit Broadway in 2008, then conquered the world in the subsequent years.

The story’s appeal is obvious. Shrek the ogre is an anti-hero, set in his ways and reasonably content with his lot living in a filthy swamp. It’s what he was born to! But when the evil Lord Farquaad banishes all the fairy tale characters and they set up camp adjacent to Shrek’s swamp, he loses his cool. Befriended by a donkey, he heads off to Duloc, Farquaad’s fantasy palace, to sort it out with the big (little, actually) man. Farquaad promises him that if he rescues Princess Fiona from her tower, where she is guarded by a dragon, and brings her back to him so they can marry, he’ll move the characters away from his home and he can live in peace again. Farquaad is too cowardly to do it for himself of course. I’m sure you know all this already.

Like Sondheim’s Into the Woods, it takes the fairytale world which we all knew as children and brings it into a modern context. The characters we grew up loving are now refugees, exiled by a tyrannical leader and at the mercy of the elements. I don’t need to tell you how easy it is to relate this twist to the state of the world today. For this show to work, that subversion of everything we have always taken for granted ought to pull us up short and slap us in the face; whilst all still being conveyed as part of a light-hearted musical show aimed at kids, primarily designed to entertain. There’s no doubt, it’s a clever concept.

This current touring production has many strong aspects but also many aspects that detract. I’m going to accentuate the positive. Antony Lawrence is excellent as Shrek; gross and imposing at first, but we quickly warm to him as a caring character, and for a big chap he’s surprisingly nimble on his feet. On the subject of dancing, Joanne Clifton’s Princess Fiona makes the best of all her choreographic options and gives a lively performance, although a little too Violet Elizabeth Bott for my liking – you can just imagine her saying she’ll scream and scream until she’s sick. Talking of which, Nick Winston’s choreography for the show is outstanding, and the ensemble do an excellent job of filling the stage with superb dancing.

Brandon Lee Sears gives probably the best performance of the evening as the Donkey, cavorting himself into all sorts of asinine (literally) poses in a hilarious and endearing manner. Mind you, for me, the donkey was always the star of the film, and Eddie Murphy’s voicing of the part is one of the best cartoon interpretations ever. But Mr Sears more than meets that challenge. The scene between him and Mr Lawrence when the two characters finally reaffirm their friendship was genuinely affecting.

Cherece Richards, who plays the dragon standing at the front of a three-woman puppet operating team, has a powerful and charismatic voice. But here come two insuperable hurdles where this production fails. The sound quality is, frankly, awful. Especially in the group singing scenes, barely a word can be identified from the tinny and shouty noise bombarding you from the stage. Consequently it’s impossible to appreciate or assess the music and lyrics. There’s a scene towards the end of the second act where the fairytale characters decide to stage a coup against Farquaad which includes an argument between Pinocchio and the Gingerbread Man. I know this because I read the synopsis on Wikipedia. However, during the performance I had absolutely no idea any of this was occurring. The words were indecipherable!

And then there’s Lord Farquaad. In the film, he is a duplicitous, spoilt, evil figure; but hilariously funny, responsible for almost as many laughs as the Donkey. When I saw this show in 2018, Farquaad was played by Samuel Holmes, who co-directs this production, and he brightened up the stage every time he appeared. Sadly, for some reason, the role has been reimagined in this show. James Gillan’s performance has reduced the character to a mere prancing fop. There’s no sense of evil, or manipulation; and whilst you feel he is still meant to be a tiny chap (in so many ways), the production does not present him in that way. Few of his lines landed; and his despatch at the end by the angry dragon, which ought to be a moment of great cheering and celebration, was about as stunning as the arrival of a rail replacement bus. Hugely disappointing.

It’s a shame because the whole cast put a massive effort into the performance, but a lot of it goes to waste. Many of the characterisations that are meant to be funny – Farquaad, Pinocchio, Gingy – are just irritating. There were many children seated around us for the show and they were brimming with excitement and expectation at the beginning, but none of them bothered to get up for the I’m a Believer finale, which I think speaks volumes. If only they could tone the noise down and make the words clearer, it would be a much more entertaining show. I’m awarding this one more star than it strictly deserves simply because Brandon Lee Sears is so good. After its week in Northampton, the production moves on to Canterbury, and then spends six weeks at London’s Eventim Apollo in the summer.

Production photos by Marc Brenner

Three-sy Does It! (But only just)

Review – Love’s Labour’s Lost, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 18th April 2024

Posted on April 19, 2024 by therealchrisparkle

The Court of Navarre has been transplanted to a billionaire’s wellness centre on a paradise island in the Pacific in Emily Burns’ new production of Love’s Labour’s Lost, a Shakespeare comedy that stands out from the others by refusing to end with a multiple wedding celebration, but instead suspending such festivities in abeyance for a twelvemonth and a day. I confess that LLL is one of my personal favourites of Shakespeare, because of its unexpected, bitter ending, its deflation of the tradition of courtly love and how it exposes hypocrisy in general; and this production covers all those areas in a funny and arresting manner.

I’m sure you know the scenario: King Ferdinand and his three attendant lords have vowed to spend three years in solitude, committed to learning and abstaining from the pleasures of the flesh. The Princess of France appears at his Court, together with her three ladies-in-waiting, to negotiate the return of Aquitaine from Navarre. Of course, being men, the Navarrese fall head over heels with the women; and of course, being women, the French are much more interested in the politics of their visit and taking selfies*. *This might not appear in Shakespeare’s original.

The strong women trump the ludicrous men hands down; add to the mix a fantastical Spaniard, Don Adriano de Armado, a lazy spoilt clown Costard, a country wench Jaquenetta, a pompous schoolmaster Holofernes, and a sober (ish) solicitor Boyet, and what could possibly go wrong? The play is a veritable feast of outlandish and hilarious characterisations who bob around vying for prominence throughout the play. As a finale, an attempt to perform a pageant of the Nine Worthies, headed by a role-greedy Holofernes, was possibly a draft version of the luvvie Bottom and his mechanicals performing Pyramus and Thisbe in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. However, Holofernes also discovers that his courtly audience are about as rude and ill-behaved as if they were watching The Bodyguard at the Palace Theatre Manchester.

Indeed, Ferdinand’s court turns into a boorish stag affair, completely upturning the traditions of courtly behaviour. No wonder Berowne sees fit to explore some underpant action in front of his virtuous lady – thus accidentally encouraging others to try the same tactic. But the women are having none of it; and this bunch of reprobates fully deserve their suspended sentence of a year before they’ve got a chance of sampling womanly wiles.

When you arrive in the auditorium you are greeted by Joanna Scotcher’s magnificent set; starting off as some Pacific equivalent of an Oval Office, then transferring to the court of Navarre, a gorgeous revolving set that affords maximum comic potential with places to hide, a fabulous staircase to skip down, and one of those touristy word sculptures spelling out NAVARRE as the perfect location to pose for Your Socials. It’s all fronted by a grassy lawn on which the exclusive clientele of the Navarre Spa can recline and enjoy sunny massages. It reminded me of a very up-market version of the Mamma Mia! set. Does Your Mother Know that you’re out in Polynesia?

Ms Scotcher scores a double hit with her excellent costume design: Hawaiian shirts and white trousers for the locals, classic white or beige creations for the upper crust types, and full Spanish sporting gear for Don Armado. The home-made costumes for the Nine Worthies are terrific, including a hilarious costume for Don Armado’s Hector bedecked in something made from old Cruzcampo and Madri cans. Composer Paul Englishby has created some very lilting melodies to continue the Pacific theme, plus a very formal anthem for the final coronation scene which replaces the traditional pleasures of one of Shakespeare’s most enduring songs – When Icicles Hang by the Wall, with Greasy Joan keeling the pot.

However, the Polynesian setting means we obviously have to forgo this ending. They don’t have icicles in the South Pacific. We also lose the final line: The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo, which encapsulates the play’s sudden and sorrowful ending. Instead we have an impressive, but incomprehensible, song to mark the Princess inheriting the throne. Am I alone in wondering, if she’s not the Princess of France but of some unnamed South Seas state, why is she so interested in taking Aquitaine back? It’s not as though they’re going to be contiguous! I’m not fully convinced that the change of setting works completely for the logic of the play.

Heading the cast is Luke Thompson as Berowne: I’ve never seen Mr Thompson in anything before, but I knew of his reputation – and boy is it deserved. His is an outstanding performance, capturing all the aspects of this complex but engaging character – wheedling, sarcastic, manipulative, and devastatingly honest. He has the ability to spark up an otherwise humdrum speech with vocal wit, fantastic phrasing, physical comedy, and superb inventiveness. Abiola Owokoniran is also very impressive as the naturally dignified Ferdinand, oozing power and confidence, boasting an impeccable façade but also revelling in the trappings of his wealth; which makes it even funnier when he degenerates into becoming one of the lads. Eric Stroud and Brandon Bassir give extremely funny supporting performances as Longaville and Dumain, the latter often bringing the house down with his irrepressible youthful excitement.

As the Princess, Melanie-Joyce Bermudez sets the tone for the women with her superb polite, correct but firm portrayal of someone born to greatness but isn’t quite ready for it yet. Ioanna Kimbrook’s hard-headed Rosaline is a perfect shield against Berowne’s cupid’s arrows, and Amy Griffiths and Sarita Gabony are a terrific Katherine and Maria with their rebuttals against the men’s approaches.

Jack Bardoe gives a riotous performance as the vowel-strangling Don Armado, the always reliable Jordan Metcalfe brings beautifully understated comedy to the role of Boyet, Tony Gardner is a wonderfully insufferable Holofernes, and Nathan Foad is perfect as the camp and unruly Costard. The whole ensemble work together brilliantly to hold the show together and, overall, it’s simply a joyful experience. Love’s Labour’s Lost continues at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre until 18^th May.

Production photos by Johan Persson

Four They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Julian Clary: A Fistful of Clary, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 17th April 2024

Posted on April 18, 2024 by therealchrisparkle

We’ve been fans of Julian Clary since I can’t remember when; except I can – we saw him as The Joan Collins Fan Club at the Civic Centre Aylesbury (such glamour) around 1988, when I believe Fanny the Wonder Dog was a guest artiste. Times have changed, but Julian, significantly, hasn’t changed much. If you’ve got a winning formula, I guess there’s no point altering it. But it’s important to keep relevant; humour is a constantly evolving thing – you wouldn’t get Bernard Manning on a stage today (OK, I know he’s dead but you get my drift) no matter how technically brilliant a comedian he was (and he most certainly was). Does Julian still offer his punters what they want?

On the whole (and there’s the first of my Claryesque double entendres), yes. A Fistful of Clary sees Julian reimagining himself as a western hero (that’s Wyoming, not Cornwall), so that’s a cue for some spangly cowboy outfits and a backdrop that includes the most phallic cactus you’ve ever seen. Apart from that, the first half is typical Clary, bouncing brilliantly off the audience, gently insulting them to the rafters, ridiculing his assistant, Bertha the lesbian, but it’s all very playful and hilarious. He tells us about his escapades performing on a cruise ship to a bunch of well-meaning geriatrics and fills us in (there’s another) with some amusing reminiscences regarding his appearances in TV’s Taskmaster and The Masked Singer, as well as on stage in Jesus Christ Superstar and Cabaret.

He has a couple of running gags, neither of which work, sadly: allowing himself a brief rest every so often as if he were playing tennis at Wimbledon whilst a pre-recorded pundit gives us commentary-style updates on his performance; and a quick burst of showbizzy music about how everything’s alright which goes nowhere. He gives a heartfelt tribute to his friend the late Paul O’Grady, which is delivered surprisingly tastefully, but is also a repetition of his identical segment in last year’s Palladium pantomime. If you haven’t heard it before, it moves you; however, if he keeps resurrecting it, it might start to feel a little maudlin. He ends the first half with a song written by his panto pal Gary Wilmot, entitled I Love a Knob. It refers to butter. Allegedly.

The second half returns to the Wild West theme with what feels like a gameshow lifted straight out of his old Sticky Moments programme – or indeed, before that, Bruce Forsyth’s Generation Game when the self-styled Balls Pond Road Theatre Club would enact their little plays in which the contestants could humiliate themselves. Six willing-ish gentlemen of all shapes and sizes plucked from the audience joined him on stage, four of whom ended up donning costumes and acting out a modest little tale which culminated in a Western Showdown between Julian and Peter, who works at Barclays, in the role of Bad Norm Lamont. This takes up nearly all the second half, and is – in its highlights – extremely funny, but at other moments feels like treading water. It very much depends on how willing the victims, I mean volunteers, are.

Sadly, a lot of the show felt under par, and indeed, under-prepared. Julian forgot the lyrics during two of his songs, and you could clearly tell that the words to a third were written on the ground in front of him. Even a performer with the enduring seasoned confidence of Mr C occasionally had that startled rabbit in headlights look as he was trying to work out what would happen next. Unfortunately, that’s a killer for a comedy show because if the audience sees the performer failing in any way, it makes us uncomfortable. I wouldn’t want to over-emphasise this, because for 95% of the time he is on his usual crest of a wave. However, he wasn’t tip-top, which is just so unlikely for the big JC.

Is his humour evolving? Perhaps not as much as it should; however, I wasn’t expecting the show to end with a very post-ironic number with the refrain It’s Not Cool to be a Queer, which even name-checks Brianna Ghey, a song that stuns us into a sad silence that not even the arrival of glitter falling from heaven can quite restore. All in all, it’s an unusual evening’s entertainment, not without hilarity and skill, but I’m wondering how much longer this much-loved comedian can make this level of content last.

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

Posted on April 14, 2024 by therealchrisparkle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted on April 11, 2024 by therealchrisparkle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Production photos by Manuel Harlan

Three-sy Does It!

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

Posted on April 8, 2024 by therealchrisparkle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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