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University of Northampton, BA (Hons) Acting & Creative Practice, Graduates 2018 Showcase Programme, 14th February 2018

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I was delighted to receive an invitation to the Dress Rehearsal for this year’s London Showcase for the 2018 Graduates of the University of Northampton, BA (Hons) Acting & Creative Practice course. Last year, when I saw the London Showcase, I had already seen the actors in a number of different roles from their appearances at the Royal and at the Flash Festival. This really helped assess the versatility of the performers, and I was surprised at the range some of them achieved. Because of a change in structure of the courses, I’ve only seen these 2018 Graduates in one previous production, Balm in Gilead. So this was just my second opportunity to see them show off their talents, hopefully to attract the attention of agents and managers and to give their careers a jolly good kickstart.

My friend and co-blogger Mr Smallmind braved the icy cold to trek up to the Maidwell Hall to watch the cast of fourteen assemble a veritable smorgasbord of theatrical delights, either short sketches or extracts from longer works. Some were extremely serious, giving the cast the opportunity to plumb the depths of aggression or bereavement, to create passionate and hard-hitting drama; others were light-hearted and funny, which brings a totally different strength and skillset to the Showcase. It’s human nature to identify with, and moreover like, someone on stage who makes you laugh; so when you’re trying to win the attention of professionals, whom you want to have on your side in the future, personally I think a good dollop of endearing humour can go a long way.

There were some stand-out sketches and performances for me that I thoroughly enjoyed and thought were superbly acted. The best of the more serious fare was a scene featuring James Grayson and Joe Conroy as two antagonistic attendees at a funeral, with Bobbie-Lee Scott caught between them as a grieving mother. All three gave powerful performances, spitting out the venom of their speeches with glee, but I particularly enjoyed Mr Grayson’s ability to convey controlled anger – every insult hit home, each word was deliciously enunciated. Ms Scott also appeared in a very enjoyable sketch with Amber Jade Harrison where she hilariously ridiculed Ms Harrison’s character’s previous choice of boyfriend, outrageously assassinating the poor off-stage chap whilst she herself was horrendously clad in a ghastly sparkly pink shell suit top. Her comic timing was perfect and, despite the brevity of the sketch, we had a very strong understanding of her character.

Another sketch that worked very well featured Dean Adams and Rhiannon Flambard loafing around in the great outdoors whilst he fantasises about being a duck. It’s an immensely silly but strangely touching little scene which both actors delivered perfectly; he stood out for his ability to convey the character’s quite childlike ideas, delivered completely straight-faced, which just made it even more funny. He was also excellent in a rather dark scene with Tiana Thompson, which begins with his amusing self-congratulation on how good a lover he had been the night before, but which gets creepier as you realise that his character probably committed rape. Ms Thompson, too, was very strong as his victim, carefully but powerlessly piecing together her recollections of the night and unable to conclude whether there’s anything she can do to put it right.

There’s a delightfully cringey scene between a painfully awkward Ross Bayliss and a voluptuously forward Freya Mawhinney where she realises, post-party, that she accidentally went off with the wrong bloke; I really liked Mr Bayliss’s self-deprecating persona in both his scenes. Daniel Peace, James Grayson and Jemma Bentley all feature in a part hilarious, part harrowing scene where a menage a trois seems to have gone seriously wrong; and Mr Peace was also excellent in a two-hander (pardon the pun) where he asked Mr Conroy to inspect his undercarriage as he thought he had a lump down there. Both actors really conveyed the awkward humour of that situation superbly.

If I were to be handing out awards for the best performers, then I would say James Grayson, Jemma Bentley, Bobbie-Lee Scott and Dean Adams would probably be jockeying for position with the best chances. But the great thing about this Showcase is that everyone gave a great account of themselves and the standard of performance was very high. The big event is at the Soho Theatre on Friday 16th February and I’m sure the whole group will deliver some outstanding performances!

Review – Canterbury Tales, BA (Hons) Acting Final Year Students, University of Northampton, St Peter’s Church, Northampton, 8th February 2018

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I think it’s fair to say that you could describe Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales as something of a success story. They’ve been around for more than 600 years and are incredibly adaptable to modern taste – in addition to the original, all-hallowed text, there are modernised versions for children, TV and film adaptations, even a 1960s musical. There’s nothing you can do to the Canterbury Tales to shake their sure foundation.

The Final Year Students have devised a show based on the Tales, where a group of young people are holed up in a church and tell stories to each other to keep their spirits up whilst the world outside falls apart (from the programme – I’m paraphrasing). Now, I have to make two confessions here. One of the ways you can divide up the general population is those who like to have stories read to them, and those who don’t. On the whole, I don’t. I was the child who didn’t enjoy Jackanory. If someone starts reading a story, it isn’t long before my eyes droop, my mind wanders and, once I realise I’ve lost the thread, I give up. I’m much more entertained by acting out a story than having it read to me. So, for story-telling to grab my attention it has to be really electric. Another confession is – I don’t really like Chaucer. Believe me, I tried. I did a whole term at university constantly companioned with a copy of Chaucer’s Complete Works and it was eight weeks of pure headache. I couldn’t get my head around the language, or the characters, or the conventions of the age. And I did really badly on my Chaucer paper. So Chaucer and I are not really mates.

For me, this was a show of two halves: that is, a show of good performances and dull content. At times the staging is also somewhat alienating. At first, when you see the plan of the church and locations marked where each story is told, which helpfully accompanies the programme, I thought we were going to be treated to a performance in promenade, which would have been great. I’d have loved to have followed the actors around the church, Pied Piper-like. Instead, we were seated on one side of the choirstalls for a bit, then the other, and finally asked to move down into the main body of the church. In the choirstalls, the proximity to and view of the action is excellent. But once you’re in the pews, there are considerable areas where the action takes place that are simply too far away, and too obstructed, for you to see. Don’t get me wrong – the use of the space is incredibly inventive; but you can be as inventive as you like but still achieve nothing if your audience can’t see you properly!

I was grateful for the programme because without it I think I would have been totally lost. Some stories get told – or at least represented – more than once, which feels a little odd. Hence we have two prioresses, two millers, three squires and four wives of Bath. No question, each character conveyed the stories differently; indeed, some tale-tellings bore little, if any, resemblance to what we know of the Tales from our English lessons. But repetition is still repetition, and was one of the reasons why – sorry to say – I got bored in this show. Although eleven separate tales are represented in this play, it lacked variety and it lacked oomph.

Despite my moaning about repetition, two definite highlights of the show were the two adaptations of the Miller’s Tale. It’s the one everyone knows because it’s rude, crude and lewd; and that brief moment of recognition when the audience realises oh yes I know this one is one of the reasons the tale stands out. The first rendition, by Anna Gallagher as a super-cool, hyper-trendy, OMG-type was told with great characterisation and some genuine passion for the story; it was also very funny. In the second rendition, Jake Wyatt recounted it in the only other thoroughly convincing manner – that of a foul-mouthed lad sharing his story with his mates, like they were thirteen year olds passing round a porn magazine. Mr Wyatt bellows out his obscenities with utter relish and does a really fine job of it.

Many of the performers assist in the telling of other stories as well as telling their own, and for me, Ceara Coveney, Alexandra Pienaru and Oliver Franks stood out as being great all-rounders. Additionally, I enjoyed Terrell Oswald’s rapport with the audience as the curtailed Cook – clever how he doesn’t finish his tale, just like the original; Chloe Hoffmeister was a very sassy Wife of Bath, and Bryony Ditchburn sang the Franklin’s Tale like an angel. Gemma Leigh, Oliver Franks and Jason Pile told a love triangle version of the Pardoner’s tale very eloquently by mime, and the Samson and Delilah element of the Monk’s Tale was a very dramatic ensemble affair of gouging out the eyes of the menfolk, with the cascades of blood represented by billowing red ribbons; really effective staging.

So, overall, the performances were very good and there were some scenes that entertained, but, sadly, for me, many didn’t and I found a few of the elements of the show rather self-indulgent and overlong. I’m afraid there was no post-show buzz from the audience after the curtain call, and I personally felt like I’d had my energy sapped. But then, I never really liked Chaucer anyway, so what do I know?

Review – Accused, BA (Hons) Acting Final Year Students, University of Northampton, St Peter’s Church, Northampton, 7th February 2018

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It’s been 54 years since the last person was hanged in the UK, but it was as recent as 2004 that capital punishment was abolished under all circumstances. It’s the ultimate punishment, the ultimate deterrent, and has always been a source of passionate argument either in favour or against, depending on your view. But supposing you knew someone, or had to work alongside someone, or lived with someone, who had committed a crime so heinous that the State had decided their life had to be terminated? Would you loathe them for their crime? Pity them for facing their unavoidable fate? Befriend them in a last chance of human support?

This devised play takes Oscar Wilde’s Ballad of Reading Gaol as its inspiration, that haunting, haunted work analysing reaction to the death penalty by the prisoners. The condemned man had killed the thing he loved; but each man kills the thing he loves, so it’s a case of There but for the Grace of God. And that’s what the audience feels too; without knowing the crime that our prisoner has committed, we can’t have a truly informed reaction to his plight. And it’s the not knowing that really makes this a curiously intense and thought-provoking drama.

When you arrive in the church, you’re disconcerted from the start. Should you sit in the pews? Should you sit in the choirstalls? There are various prisoners loafing their way around the chancel, but a burly guard has his back to you and you wonder, do I dare walk past him and sit down? You do. The prisoners are enjoying (if that’s the right word) their free association time, so you eavesdrop on conversations, games, petty squabbles, and so on. One solitary prisoner seems very uncomfortable in this environment; we later discover that he has a great aptitude for art and an addiction to accuracy –- thus I deduced he was somewhere on the autistic spectrum. Into this melting pot arrives the Accused; a man with a reputation so bad that (almost) all the other prisoners avoid him, swear at him, despise him. Only the autistic prisoner doesn’t avoid him, but only because there’s still 23 minutes of his free time left.

There are four guards, each with a different attitude to the prisoner. One detests him for what he has done, and doubtless will show him no mercy at any time he’s under his tender care. Another treats him like any other prisoner – which is with great kindness as she is the nurturing type. A third is ghoulishly fascinated by him – almost a fan – and wants to know how it feels to have your own death hovering so near. The fourth, whilst naturally an enforcer, is prepared to bend the odd rule to make his last few days more bearable.

Apart from Alexander Forrester-Coles, playing the Accused, and Jake Statham as the cleaner, this is very much an ensemble piece. Mr Forrester-Coles plays the role as the archetypal strong and silent type. He combines the mystery of the man with an essential dignity which was most impressive to witness. His self-protecting barriers are all up; refusing to answer questions, or to rise to the bait of taunting prisoners. But he will attack back if he identifies a weak spot in one of his critics’ characters, and as he gets closer to his death he does open up a little to reveal something of the man behind the mask. It’s a very strong and compelling performance and I was totally convinced by him. Just as the Accused is the man that everyone notices, Mr Statham was also excellent as the man no one notices, the cleaner; an outsider in a different way, talking out of turn to the audience as if we’re his mates, a kind of Everyman character. I would have liked to see more of him as the intensity of the play develops, to get his Everyman take on what’s going on, rather than just having him “bookend” the action. Technically, as not the best hearer in the world, I really appreciated the clarity of his speech which definitely helped his characterisation to shine through; a minor character but a major performance.

What impressed me most about the piece was how extremely high the overall standard of performance was; in previous years, there have always been one or two people whose range and complexity has left just a little to be desired but this cast is the closest I’ve seen to a “dream team” since I’ve been watching these student plays.

Kate Morgan-Jones stands out as the ringleader of the prisoner ruffians. Belligerent, argumentative, determined; you really wouldn’t want to cross her. Offering a very different characterisation, I thought Robert Barnes was superb as the loner prisoner; again very credible, his delivery was beautifully paced throughout, and you could see the complexity of his thought processes straining to get through his expressions. I also really enjoyed D B Gallagher’s junkie prisoner, responding with quiet desperation to any threat that endangers his access to drugs. Jac Burbidge also excelled in his variety of roles, both as the firebrand guard speechless with horror at having to deal with the Accused, and as the ever-so-helpful priest exchanging pleasantries with the executioner (a delightfully understated performance from Georgi McKie).

I was very impressed with Radostin Radev as the ghoulishly fascinated guard; he played him with style, assurance and just a perfect touch of eerie nastiness. Xara Chisano’s performance as the fourth guard enabled you to see all her inner conflicts, which created a truly fascinating character from not many words; this was another very assured and realistic performance. And Ellen Tritton portrayed the well-meaning guard with great clarity and simplicity; I loved the way that whenever any of the prisoner’s rejected her help she carried on regardless without ever taking it personally – a very strong characterisation.

Everyone created a very memorable impression of their own characters and their part in the play. You could pick this production up and plonk it down in the middle of the Edinburgh Fringe and it would make good money. I went home full of my own thoughts and responses to the issues raised by the play and the various characters. Exceptional stuff! Congratulations all!

Review – Of Mice and Men, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 5th February 2018

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Once again, I have to confess my ignorance, gentle reader, and tell you that I have never read John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men. I know that for someone with a degree in English that’s a pretty shoddy state of affairs. Fortunately, Mrs Chrisparkle was also equally ignorant, but that’s A Good Thing Overall when it comes to seeing a dramatization of a well-known story. Experiencing a work of art for the first time, I didn’t know how it was going to end up; so if it is a good story, it ought to keep us spellbound. And it did; eventually. I sensed it was never going to end well – and I wasn’t wrong.

I hadn’t even given any thought to the title, but of course it goes back to the old saying that the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray. Or, as the late Dowager Mrs C used to delight in enunciating, gang aft agley; she was always a poetry purist. It’s certainly true that those best laid plans end up pretty worthless in this story of the unlikely friendship between intelligent, savvy George Milton and the simple yet sadly brutal Lennie Small. I like the concept of unlikely friendships; I have many of them myself. On the road, trying to find work wherever they can get it, George and Lennie are expected at The Boss’s ranch to “buck barley” (whatever that is); and they should be fine provided Lennie remembers to keep his mouth shut. Their best laid plan is to get enough cash to buy their own farm somewhere, so that they can live in security and safety; not afraid of hard work but hoping for the benefits that hard work would bring them.

However…. at the Boss’s ranch, they meet the wretched little Curley, one of those pint-sized bullies, and his bored and presumably sexually frustrated wife (who goes by the name of… Curley’s wife). She likes to hang around the guys for company, but the only consequence of that is that Curley gets even more annoyed and bullying, as he suspects everyone’s having an affair with her. He decides to take it out on Lennie because it appears that he won’t fight back…. Until he does…

You knew all that anyway, gentle reader, and there’s no doubt that it is a good story and maybe even something of a tear-jerker. Even so, I found the first act to be extremely slow and exposition-intensive. It certainly improves with the fight scene, and with the second act things get much more interesting. On the face of it, David Woodhead’s set works well, with the simple evocation of the brushwoods by the river bank, and the various rooms and dorms of the Barn and Bunkhouse at the ranch. It’s a coincidence, I am sure, but the opening scene features a river at the far front of the stage, exactly the same as in last year’s Grapes of Wrath. One wonders if Steinbeck had a thing about rivers.

In that production, there was real water in a tank which gave a tremendous sense of reality. Here, though, the river is imaginary, represented only by the sounds of gushing water when Lennie and George sloosh their heads underneath or cup their hands to splash themselves with. I’m normally one to prefer design that works on the imagination more than being obviously “real” – but in this case, I found the artifice of the design rather annoying. You could see there was no water; you could see, in the elaborate fight scene, that none of the punches was landing. The reality came from the sound effects; if you see the show, you’ll know precisely what I mean. It’s not often a simple sound effect can make you squirm in your seat. There were also a few weird incidents offstage that caused the otherwise quite atmospheric lighting to flicker every time someone walked somewhere they shouldn’t. There was even one occasion when someone came on stage, behind the semi-transparent backdrop, hovered for a bit, then wandered off. If this was meant to suggest the world going on around them, it didn’t work. It just looked like someone got their cue wrong.

But enough carping. The production is lucky enough to have some excellent performances, none greater than Matthew Wynn as Lennie, a gentle giant if ever there was one. It must be a really tough role to get right; I can imagine it being so easy to pantomime-up the character’s simple nature, or to brutalise down his incredible strength. Mr Wynn pitches it just perfectly and makes him a very believable character; effortlessly portraying Lennie’s emotions that he wears on his sleeve and unnerving us when his demons start to show through. It’s a really superb performance. Richard Keightley is also extremely good as George, not hiding his irritation at how Lennie slows him down and stops him (at least, as he sees it) from getting on well in life. But he is a true friend, and always offers kindness to Lennie, right to the bitter end.

Andrew Boyer is excellent as the old retainer Candy, clutching at the straw of potential partnership with George and Lennie, knowing he is powerless to prevent his old dog from being put out of its misery, clinging to the wreckage of memories that are worth so much more than today’s reality. Kamran Darabi Ford does a good job of conveying the aggressive character of Curley, punchy little prick that he is, and Rosemary Boyle is extremely good at balancing that slightly coquettish, slightly come-on look with her protestations that’s she’s a good girl deep down. The other characters are all very well portrayed; I especially enjoyed Kevin Mathurin’s Crooks, annoyed at the others invading his space when he’s not allowed to invade theirs, Darren Bancroft’s feisty Carlson and Harry Egan’s excitable Whit.

Right up until the final moment we weren’t sure how the story would resolve itself; that’s a testament to the mastery of John Steinbeck. But I confess I wasn’t sufficiently moved to need to wipe away a tear. For some reason, the production appealed much more to the head than the heart, and I found that thinking about George’s reasons for his actions and why he did it, much more absorbing than any emotional reaction. Having read the synopsis and leafed through my copy of the book, this seems to me to be very true to Steinbeck’s original work, including the occasional use of the N word, which always makes an audience feel uncomfortable, so be prepared. After its week here in Northampton, it goes on to Mold, Glasgow, Salisbury, Brighton, Wimbledon, Tunbridge Wells, Manchester and Swansea.

Review – Barnum, Menier Chocolate Factory, 4th February 2018

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I had a really bad night’s sleep the night before we saw Barnum. And I know precisely why; even though we go to the theatre a lot (I’m very lucky, gentle reader, and I do try not to take it for granted), I couldn’t sleep simply because I was genuinely so excited to see the show again. I saw the original production of Barnum at the London Palladium with the late Dowager Mrs Chrisparkle back in 1981. Front stalls seats for £8.50… they charged £99.50 for the same seats for Dick Whittington last month. Michael Crawford was always one of my theatrical heroes, and he’s rarely taken to a role with such positivity and enthusiasm as that of Phineas Taylor Barnum. In 1996 Mrs Chrisparkle and I saw a touring production at the Wycombe Swan starring Andrew O’Connor. I remember enjoying it; that’s all I remember.

Then a few years ago, Barnum was revived at Chichester, in a big top tent in the park, whilst the Festival Theatre was being refitted. A perfect use of the space, and a magnificent setting for the revival. PTB was played by Broadway star Christopher Fitzgerald. Comparisons are odious, but he lacked the showbizzy pizzazz of Michael Crawford, and he couldn’t walk the tightrope. He did, however, invest the part with loads of emotion, so his affair with Jenny Lind, and his bereavement when his beloved Charity dies (oops, spoilers, sorry) were really moving.

So now we have a brand new Barnum, in that amazingly versatile theatre space, the Menier Chocolate Factory, which has been jiggered around so that it now feels like a proper big top. First thing: the staging is superb. Even just entering the theatre, you might bump into the ringmaster or some of his assistants; the bar/reception area recreates Barnum’s museum, with suitable pictures and artefacts; on the way out, his mermaid even shows up to direct us towards the egress. It all makes absolutely perfect scene-setting. Inside the auditorium, various cast members play card tricks with the audience, or create balloon animals for children of all ages; it was one of those shows where I was absolutely loving it before it had even begun.

Inevitably though, with this in the round staging, for every moment when part of the action is right in front of you and you have the best view in the house, there’s another moment when you simply can’t see what’s going on. We sat in seats A 84 & 85, from where you couldn’t see the balcony where Charity often looked down on the action and where (I believe) the blues singer opens the song Black and White. When Tom Thumb’s elephant appears, his right leg completely obliterated the view of the stage so we couldn’t see the final part of Bigger Isn’t Better – and also from that angle, you had no sense of how the theatrical illusion of the elephant worked. So, some friendly and helpful advice: if you haven’t booked yet, and there are still some tickets left for some shows, I’d definitely opt for seats numbers 20 – 36, no matter what row you choose. The Menier is one of the most intimate acting spaces I know, and even if there were a full house for Barnum it can’t seat more than 190 people for one show; so the atmosphere is still magic no matter where you sit.

In the title role is Marcus Brigstocke, whom we’ve seen twice doing stand-up and once in Spamalot, and he’s always a total joy to watch. But what would he make of the iconic role of Barnum, the supreme showman? As you would expect, he makes it his own. Wisely, there’s no attempt to impersonate Crawford, or to go over the top on the pizzazz. Mr Brigstocke’s Barnum is not so much the supreme showman, more the supreme businessman – and I don’t mean that unkindly. Much of the story revolves around Barnum’s building up of his circus/museum empire, assessing the benefits of one act over the next, working out how much they should be paid, going into partnerships with various other businessmen; and also getting his work/life balance right vis-à-vis his good lady wife. In these regards, Mr B is absolutely spot on. For the other aspects of Barnum’s character, I found him perhaps a little staid, a little respectable. I’m not sure he’d ever run away to join the circus, but he’d definitely be their Operations Manager. Credit where it’s due though; on the show we saw, he performed the tightrope trick perfectly, so kudos to him for that, given he’s quite a big bloke!

The character of Barnum has a lot of singing to do, and I’d say that Mr Brigstocke’s singing voice has come a long way since we saw him in Spamalot. Technically, it’s a really demanding role and challenges the performer’s vocal dexterity. For example, he has to enunciate the Museum Song, a patter song with so many words per minute that most people would need a lie down after it. I couldn’t work out whether it was Mr Brigstocke’s performance, or the Menier’s sound system, but quite a lot of it got, shall we say, lost in action. But I’ve no wish to be mean, I really enjoyed Mr Brigstocke as Barnum, he had an avuncular charm and great interaction with the audience; and we got to shake his hand as part of his political rally.

The rest of the cast are outstanding, in all departments. Laura Pitt-Pulford is as splendid as you would imagine as Chairy Barnum, with her beautiful singing voice complimenting perfectly the sentiments of The Colours of My Life, I Like Your Style (by the way, how come it became I liked your style?) and my own favourite, One Brick at a Time. She also teased out all the emotion of the role; you could have heard the legendary pin drop – or indeed, her heart break – when she realised that her Taylor was staying behind to play the jackdaw with the Swedish nightingale. Talking of whom, Celinde Schoemaker is brilliant as Jenny Lind; captivatingly beautiful, an extraordinary voice and really expressing that spoilt, demanding and tiresome character that lurked beneath. The staging of Love Makes Such Fools of us All, within a picture frame, was both beautiful and tragic to witness. Tupele Dorgu is an amusingly young looking Joice Heth – almost throwing Barnum’s humbug in our face to think that she could be 160 years old – and I loved her renditions of Black and White and especially Thank God I’m Old, which I reckon is one of the funniest songs in musical theatre. I remember how when I saw the Palladium production, “Thank God I’m Old” really made the late Dowager laugh her head off; which, if you ever knew her, gentle reader, may well come as quite a surprise.

I was delighted to see one of my favourite performers, Harry Francis, as Tom Thumb; having seen him dance his way through A Chorus Line, Chicago and Fiddler on the Roof, I knew he’d bring something special to this show. I bet no other Tom Thumb has ever performed so many perfect pirouettes, executed brilliantly without travelling from the start position. It was also great to see another fantastic dancer, Danny Collins, so amazing as Dr Jekyll a couple of years ago, as Amos Scudder. Dominic Owen plays the ringmaster more like one of the lads than the boss, which is an interesting way of looking at the role, and his curious Mr Bailey at the end was a picture of awe and wonderment at the wonderful world of circus, rather than the hard-nosed businessman I’ve seen before. The ensemble are vivacious and entertaining, with some great circus performers as well as the musical theatre types. Amongst them I reckon young Ainsley Hall Ricketts is going to be One To Watch for the future! I almost forgot to mention Rebecca Howell’s choreography, which would have been most remiss of me. Funny, exhilarating, inventive, joyful; it matched the music and the story perfectly and was a sheer delight.

It wasn’t until the final song – Join The Circus – was starting up that I remembered quite how much significance and emotion I, personally, invest in Barnum the show. Basically, I’d forgotten how much it reminded me of my old mum; she who was an enormous Michael Crawford fan, she who found the character of Joice Heth so hilarious. Never underestimate the power of the theatre to stir the emotions and trigger the nostalgia button; nor ever underestimate the power of a show tune to get the old waterworks flowing. By the time we were putting our coats on to brave the Southwark winter, I found the tears were fair coursin’ down my cheeks, so they were. Now I wasn’t expecting that!

It wasn’t perfect; few things are. But I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed it. No wonder I couldn’t sleep the night before. If you ever dreamed of running away and joining a troupe of acrobats and clowns, this is the show for you. If you love immersive theatre where the action comes up right close to you, this is also the show for you. It runs until 3rd March and I’d be thrilled to go again, if you’ve got a spare ticket.

Review – Upfront Comedy Slam, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 3rd February 2018

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This was our second visit to one of these Upfront Comedy nights at the Royal and Derngate; last time we enjoyed it so much that we bitterly regretted not having discovered it before! Our MC again was ex-Teletubby John Simmit, the bad boy turned Dipsy because, let’s face it, who wouldn’t for the money. He’s great at striking up an instant rapport with the audience and setting us all at our ease; although he reckoned we were already well set up before he came on. He got us all (literally) into a rhythm with a bit of in-seat dancing, which I’ve not tried before but was thoroughly refreshing.

Our first act was someone we’d seen twice before, both in Screaming Blue Murder and at The Ark, Andy White. He’s a naturally funny man, with a larger than life persona, a slightly dandyish fashion sense and the ability to make an erotic movie out of the soundtrack of the Flintstones in French. He’s one of those guys where, after you’ve spent a few minutes in their company, you genuinely feel happy inside. His material is full of short stories and observations about his marriage and home life, but often with a quirky twist. It was during Mr White’s set that a recurring problem of the evening started – one or two over-enthusiastic and overlubricated ladies in the second row, who felt that by constantly talking back to the comics on stage they were somehow enhancing their act. Wrong. They were a permanent pain in the arse the whole night long.

Mr W responded pretty well to their chat-up lines and they backed down completely for our second act Stockport’s own Barbara Nice, because she really wasn’t what they were there for. We’d never seen Barbara Nice before, but I’d heard good things about her and I tell you, they were an underestimation. Nice by name and by nature, she is a wonderful comic creation, the kind of northern lady you’d chat to over the garden gate or down the Co-op. She surveyed how many of us read Take A Break (not that many), and how many of us hide from friends and relatives in supermarkets (quite a few). Her set was absolutely jam-packed with brilliant material that just pinpointed our funnybone and stuck there, refusing to budge. She ended up teaching us the moves to a horrendous but hilarious dance routine and we were, quite frankly, wetting ourselves. We’d love to see her again.

After the interval, John Simmit introduced us to the fearlessly funny Gerry K. An instantly likeable East London lad, he has the true gift of the gab and he really shook us up with his vitality and attack. He’s got loads of excellent material about family life; he’s great at expressing inventive and very funny angles on familiar situations. Again that lady in the second row decided she was in with a chance so started the chatback but Mr K was firm but fair and did his best to close her down. We both thought he was terrific and would also like to see him again.

Last act of the evening, and third in a row of comics that we hadn’t seen before, was Kane Brown. Oh my giddy aunt, if anyone can handle himself on stage Mr Brown can. Fantastic stage presence, riptastic material and a supremely confident delivery means you just sit there and don’t stop laughing until everyone’s gone home. Of course, the lady in front had another go and he just shut her up with savage politeness – and this time she really did finally shut up. Just superb. Mr Brown had some friends in the audience he chatted to when we were leaving the auditorium but I felt compelled to interrupt and shake his hand because he was just too good not to.We’re definitely on the hunt for more of his shows.

It may only be early February but that show really raised the bar for live comedy for this year. Absolutely loved it. There’s another Upfront Comedy show coming in April – better get booking now!

Review – Sofie Hagen, Dead Baby Frog, Underground at the Derngate, Northampton, 2nd February 2018

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We’d seen Sofie Hagen once before, at a Screaming Blue Murder back in 2015 and we were most impressed. I’d heard that her Dead Baby Frog show had done well at Edinburgh, and that it was comedy with a challenge (which is always intriguing). I’m guessing that a number of people had heard the same, as the Underground was fully sold out in advance of the show, which is great news for everyone.

After an informative and kindly welcome, where she explained the main part of her show would contain material regarding emotional abuse – a few sharp intakes of breath – Sofie introduced us to her support act for the night. Bisha K Ali has featured on Sofie’s podcasts, and those more knowledgeable people in the audience, who were obviously fans of the podcasts, whooped with delight. She had some excellent material about mother-management (a true skill if you can master it) but the main substance of her part of the show was talking about arranged marriage. Bisha has no problem with arranged marriage – but there are limits, as she discusses how her future husband was almost decided whilst she was still a foetus. Serious issues brought to light with a comedy touch, and we both really enjoyed her set.

After the interval Sofie returned, with another tale of family exploitation and abuse. Born and brought up in Denmark, she spent her childhood in the no-hope-ville of Skamstrup (I think that’s right, apologies if not) which translates, literally as Shame Town. She had three grandfathers (long story) two of which, by the sound of it, were utter bastards. One, the Nazi, died seven years ago – and we hear, amongst other gems, the brilliant story of his funeral. The other, probably also a Nazi, but more importantly a serial emotional abuser, is still going strong; and we hear Sofie’s account of how he inflicted emotional scars on her (never physical) from the age of four.

This may not sound like a fruitful source of comedy, but you’d be wrong. Ms H has such a winning way about her, with beautifully constructed sentences and mental imagery, and a superb use of English words that belie her Danish heritage, that the hour flies by. She says she is accused of setting up too many callbacks, but I don’t think that’s possible – it all goes to show how the whole show is so very cleverly assembled. She also has a great, natural, story-telling ability, which really helps with a show like this, which is not so much based on sure-fire gags (not at all, in fact) but instead gradually paints a picture for us all to look and wonder at.

Her aim – as stated at the outset – is for us to detest her grandfather as much as we do. I’m not sure she quite succeeds, because I don’t think anyone could detest him quite so much as she does. We do, however, heartily approve of all the progress that has been made into making his life as miserable as possible. This is definitely one of those comedy nights that you file under therapy for the performer, but what I liked about it more than any other of that style of performance that I have seen is, and this may seem a fairly basic requirement, it is actually very funny! Sofie has been touring this show extensively and I think the tour is now coming to an end. But I’d definitely recommend catching her work in the future – to be both challenging and funny is about as good as it gets.

P. S. A few days before the show I received an email from the theatre with a link to a note from Sofie. In that note she made it clear that she wanted it to be an anxiety-free experience for everyone, so that if there was anything she could do in advance, like reserve a seat, or individually tell people more about what the show was about, she would. She also arranged for gender neutral signs on all the toilets, and linked to specific accessibility advice for people with disabilities. I thought that was astounding. Even though none of the issues she raised affected me personally, I nevertheless felt more comfortable, positive and secure about attending the show. For anyone who does have any of those concerns, I could imagine it would be an enormous relief. That’s a really thoughtful thing to do.

Review – Brief Encounter, Playhouse Theatre Northampton, 31st January 2018

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Considering it’s been around since 1945, it’s a disgrace that neither Mrs Chrisparkle nor I have ever properly watched the film of Brief Encounter. It’s one of those hardy perennials that always emerges at Christmas on some minor TV channel or other. If you notice it in the listings you say to yourself “not that old thing again” and so you don’t watch it, forgetting the fact that you never actually did in the first place. I have, now, seen some of the opening credits, and the final credit, as they frame this production of Emma Rice’s adaptation of Noel Coward’s classic. I’ve also seen some gems of adverts that are shown as a curtain raiser – it’s worth taking your seat early so that you can enjoy them. I distinctly remember the early days of Quosh but have no memory at all of Cephos Powder. And I’d forgotten all about Midland Counties Ice Cream.

Of course, those portentous black and white meetings between Celia Johnson (whom I actually saw on stage in 1972) and Trevor Howard (whom I didn’t) are about as iconic as you can get, an embodiment of wartime stiff upper lip, reserved passion and a regretful acceptance of a less than satisfactory status quo. Showing this classic on the tiny stage of the Northampton Playhouse by a company of non-professionals is, what I believe to be the correct term, A Big Ask. But I was really impressed at the ambition and realisation of the technicality of the project, and overall it worked extremely well.

The cast and creative team have gone to town on creating the illusion of a 1945 cinema; in fact, the whole performance is a blend of live theatre and film recreating the outside world. Immaculately coiffured with 1940s hairdos, usherettes with torches control the auditorium, trying to shush our loving couple as they have an awkward contretemps during the Big Feature. At the interval, meat paste sandwiches and Banbury buns are on offer. There’s also a raffle – we won a box of chocolates, so bang goes the post-Christmas diet – again. Specially recorded black and white film sequences show our hero and heroine sat miserably on their trains home; they also beckon a steam train onto the stage or off into the distance; backdrop projections suggest the railway station’s café, or the almost-posh hotel restaurant, where ladies who lunch, lunch. Film also enables conversations between Laura and her kids, spiffingly well played by young Will Foreman and Casey O’Sullivan.

Having read the synopsis of the film, it seems to me that the adaptation reflects the original pretty faithfully, with the inclusion of a few spirited additions. Stanley, the station dogsbody, and Beryl, the tea room assistant, break through the fourth wall to give us a few reprises of Any little fish can swim, a Noel Coward song from the 1931 Cochran Revue. Myrtle Bagot, the café proprietor, and Beryl give us separate renditions of the famous Mad About the Boy, another Coward hit, from the 1932 show Words and Music. In a production that, by necessity, has a number of relatively slow scene changes (mainly due to the size of the stage), having these interludes is a great way to disguise what’s going on behind the curtain; a song and dance version of a stately swan whose grace and elegance you notice without ever knowing that his feet are going nineteen to the dozen to keep him afloat. Very nicely done.

At the heart of the play – and indeed heart being the operative word – are the loving twosome of Mary O’Brien and Jof Davies as Laura Jesson and Alec Harvey. They both portray that sense of struggling against one’s better nature extremely well, and they both absolutely look the part. Mr Davies perfectly captured the embarrassment of being caught almost in flagrante by his work colleague at his flat – a delightfully toe-curling scene; and I found his sense of resignation at the end – just being able to put his hand on Laura’s shoulder whilst her irritating friend natters on in complete ignorance – very moving. Ms O’Brien’s clarity of diction is a thing of beauty which really helped her rich characterisation of the troubled Laura. She also shone during those embarrassed meetings with acquaintances who could clearly gauge precisely what was going on, despite which, with true decency, she doesn’t tell any lies.

I very much enjoyed the partnership of April Pardoe as Myrtle and Helen Kennedy as Beryl, sparring in the café; Ms Pardoe’s slightly haughty portrayal of the café owner reminded me a little of the late Doris Speed who used to play Annie Walker in Coronation Street. I was very amused by them both manhandling all the buns and then offering them to the front row. Ms Kennedy’s visual asides at Myrtle’s hectoring were very enjoyable, as were her constant attempts to get away with murder – but Ms Pardoe was having none of it, and quite right too, the young people of today… etc, etc & etc. Adding to this jolly menage a trois is Adrian Wyman as Albert Godby, the stationmaster whose pea in his whistle is aimed firmly at Myrtle. Mr Wyman draws out all the fun of the character as he chisels away at Myrtle’s frosty front until at last, in the immortal words of Daft Punk, he’s up all night to Get Lucky. Gordon Ritchie gives a spirited, cheeky-chappie performance as the impetuous Stanley, and I really liked Beverley Webster’s socially confident and thoroughly insensitive Dolly Messiter, ruining Laura and Alec’s passionate goodbye by dumping her shopping all over their table.

In two very amusing vignettes, Ingrid Heymann plays the waitress at the restaurant, teetering on the edge of the stage, precariously balancing two bowls of soup (I’m sure the gentleman next to me who couldn’t resist call out “two soups!” wasn’t the only person this week to have that thought), reflecting the generosity of her patrons’ tips with either a sneer or a surprised pleasure. In another funny scene, Simon Rye and Kevin Evans play Johnnie and Bill, a couple of soldier vagabonds with good-time girls on their arms, arguing the toss with an unflinching Mrs Bagot. Mr Evans threw himself wholeheartedly into his role as a loutish military roué under the influence of a pint of cider. It’s a character part.

Congratulations to the excellent cast who were word perfect throughout and worked together seamlessly. Mrs C has a low threshold to amateur dramatics, but she left the theatre with a spring in her step, which is a Very Good Sign. It’s a slightly quirky adaptation that I think would appeal to both purists and avant-garde alike. Performances run till Saturday but if you haven’t booked already, then I think you may have left it too late.

Review – The Burlesque Show, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 26th January 2018

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It’s always a pleasure to welcome back those boffins from the Ministry of Burlesque, the sexiest civil servants on two legs. Once a year they administrate their way into the Royal Theatre with a superb selection of comedy, magic and general allure and, for a couple of hours, one’s humdrum day to day life is transported to a world where everything is beautiful. Yes, even for half an hour or so on a Friday evening, you can think of magician Pete Firman as beautiful. At a stretch.

Having enjoyed the sultry pleasures of Miss Lili la Scala hosting last year, this year we were commèred by die schöne Marlene Cheaptrick, also known as the one and only Abigail Collins from Dagenham. Frau Cheaptrick wove a spell of pure Germanic enchantment as she guided us through her box of Teutonic delights. A highlight as always with Abi Collins was her interaction with members of the audience; on Friday night it was young Jamie who got a little hot under the collar as he sat on the stage with Frau Cheaptrick’s kleine Vergnügungsscheide upside down in his face. But he was a gentleman and did not take advantage of her vulnerability, which was just as well as his mum and dad were watching. She also did her manic and fantastic hula hoop act, in which no items of savoury confectionary were harmed. Assisting the lovely Marlene was Mia Merode, whom we have seen on the very same stage performing some stunning Burlesque, here in the slightly less glamorous (but nonetheless vital) role of preparing the stage for the next act. When acts drop feathers, wine, underwear, blood, sweat and tears during the performance of their routines, you can understand how important it is to have someone responsible to clean up; and she does it beautifully.

All the acts appeared twice, once in the first half and once in the second. The Dramatis Personae was almost exactly the same as last year, not that it mattered; this year’s show was notable for the way it really stepped up the humour. Mrs Chrisparkle and I were basically roaring with laughter all the way from start to finish apart from when it was unseemly to do so in front of naked flesh.

We met the delectable Lena Mae, who first appeared covered in a costume made of balloons. These were never going to last, particularly as she also produced a carrot with a prick on the end. A few pricks later and the balloons had burst to reveal her hidden charms. In her second appearance she did a superb, traditional fan dance in an example of pure, classic Burlesque; a fabulous combination of the elegant and the provocative.

Then we met Robin Dale, whom we also saw last year, performing an incredible juggling and balancing act with an open bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. Mr Dale was standing on a table, wine glass on his forehead, another glass in one hand and bottle in the other, ready to bring to life the human wine equivalent of a chocolate fountain, when a woman in the balcony shouted out “Hey Baby!” which almost made him teeter off the top. But he held on and managed it perfectly, so kudos to him. When, in the second half, he is joined by his partner in juggling crime, I still haven’t quite worked out why Mr Dale suddenly becomes one half of Boon and Bailie; but there you are, that’s showbiz I guess. Once again the dapper twosome performed dextrous feats of juggling and balancing whilst slowly removing all their (and each other’s) clobber. They left their hats on, in the best Tom Jones style, but this time Mr Dale’s thong didn’t twang into the audience which must be of some mercy.

Next was a new act – hurrah – the Hot Potato Syncopators! Three elegant 1920s toffs who dish out the raciest, paciest tunes of their day by means of ukulele, a single piece of string tied to a stick of wood, and a saw. They’re dynamite! Huge fun, they really recreate the era with their monocles, plummy accents and inspired choice of music. Decadence on a shoestring, we loved it.

Once again we had the welcome return of magician Pete Firman, and precisely the same three tricks that he performed last year – the ever-growing numbers of cards in the pack, the cutting-a-rope trick, and the signed £20 note revealed zipped up in his wallet. I think I’ve seen these tricks maybe six times now, and I still haven’t got a scooby as to how he does them. As always, his gift of the gab is hilarious, and he really is the most entertaining magician, as he mercilessly rips the p*** out of his audience victims who just love it. This time he had the spangly-dressed Claire on stage to help with the rope trick, with Steve on the £20 notes and Roly on the monkey nuts. Very funny, very intriguing, very clever. I could watch him all night.

We were also treated to two divine and hilarious Burlesque routines from the incredible Miss Betty Blue Eyes. One was a stunningly beautiful appearance in blue which included an arrival in a spaceship, but my favourite was an homage to Liberace where, clad (or otherwise) in the black and white of a piano keyboard, she tucked herself in at a tiny toy piano to play chopsticks. Unsurprisingly, with such a mini stool to perch on, it took Ms Blue Eyes several attempts to get herself comfy, but she pulled it off. You can’t get better than Ms Blue Eyes for milking the humour out of traditional Burlesque!

Our final act was the elegant and Berlinesque Alexandra Hofgartner, whom we have seen here many times before, performing her daring aerial acrobatics with just the aid of two strips of material and some womanly muscle. It’s a circus/variety skill but carried out with true Burlesque style. The audience loved it, as always.

Thus drew another Burlesque Show to its conclusion; it’s always a feast for the eyes and a tonic for your laughter organs. This was a particularly funny reincarnation of the show and everyone was on magnificent form. Can’t wait for next year’s!

Review – Mamma Mia, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 24th January 2018

I’m old enough to remember when the first “B” of “ABBA” got reversed; it infuriated the priggish little language purist in me because I thought it would confuse young people learning how to write their letters. Decades later I can now look at it as their trademark©, rather than their name, and read into it a visual interpretation of four people, two couples, each designated by their own initial, the middle two with their backs to each other, as if they were being driven apart by a magnetic force that would inexorably lead to their downfall. Or it could just be a pretty pattern.

It was back in 2005 that Mrs Chrisparkle and I first succumbed to the charms of Mamma Mia. It had already been around for ages – it actually opened in 1999 – but when we finally got around to seeing it, we loved it. Thirteen years is a decent interval to revisit an old favourite, so we were looking forward to dipping our toes back in the theatrical waters of that Greek isle, where every musical sentiment has been distilled through Stockholm’s greatest Pop machine, to create a perfect show tune every time.

It’s easy to scoff at Abba, but they produced memorable songs of extraordinary quality and it’s a joy to hear them on stage. I wouldn’t rank them as highly as The Beatles, of course, but they had a similar ability to convey all sorts of moods. For every Super Trouper there’s a Winner Takes It All. For every Ring Ring, there’s an S.O.S. I remember being at school in 1976 and overhearing a conversation between two of the rougher and tougher older geezer boys who could intimidate you with one brief stare. It went something like: “What music you into?” “Dancing Queen by Abba. Have you heard the production on that single, it’s ****ing amazing….” “Oh yeah, you’re right, it’s ****ing brilliant.”

One of the great achievements of this show is to dovetail those songs into a credible narrative. It’s a finer piece of construction than anything you’d get at IKEA. I’m sure you know the story, but, in a Swedish meatball: Sophie is getting married to her boyfriend Sky (I presume someone on the creative team was a fan of Guys and Dolls) and wants her father to give her away. Trouble is, there were three guys who slept with her tearaway mum around the time of her conception, and she doesn’t know which of them is the original owner of the sperm responsible. So, unbeknownst to her mum Donna, she invites them all to her wedding, thinking she’d instinctively discover who’s the daddy. But it’s not as simple as that, and all three candidates start getting fatherly feelings. Nowadays Donna runs a B&B taverna but in those days she used to rip it up in an all-girl group called the Dynamos. Her two partners in musical crime come out for the wedding, thus legitimising the retro latex and platform boots look that forms a not insubstantial part of the show. Do Sophie and Sky realise their true love? Will any of the Dynamos get lucky? And who is the daddy? You’ll have to watch the show to find out.

It occurred to me that, stylistically, the show is now heading into a total retro spiral. The glam rock association with Abba comes from their Eurovision performance in 1974, which is, I suppose, how most people first came into contact with them. But for much of their career their stage and pop video appearance was very homely, very folky. When Donna and the Dynamos belt out Super Trouper they’re dressed like sex kittens from the Planet Zarg, but if you look at the picture of Abba on that album cover, they’re all dressed in formal white suits and the ladies are especially elegant and refined. That album was from 1980, long after glam rock was a thing of the past. When the original stage show of Mamma Mia appeared in 1999, it was already 25 years after Eurovision, so this style and look was already deeply retro. Today we’re another 19 years on – basically two generations have passed and we’re still revelling in that early 70s look. The show allows you to bask in the memory of those halcyon days. We can all get up and dance at the end to Waterloo without any concern for how ridiculous we might look – and then it’s all safely buttoned up and put away; a style that’s never going to hit the High Streets again, but which we all fall for hook line and sinker. It’s a pure nostalgia boost.

In the battle of the sexes, this is a show where the women rule the roost. Three powerful women (the Dynamos) are up against three largely powerless and confused men (the possible fathers). You sense in marriage that the wilful Sophie would make mincemeat out of the hapless Sky. Sophie, her friends and the younger girls are all smart and sassy; Sky and his mates are all numbskull jerks. Much of the choreography is based on women taking the lead, frequently ridiculing the men; the same goes for the costumes. It’s the fully dressed Donna who chastises the swimming trunk-clad Sky, Pepper and Eddie, the latter so much so that his bagpipes droop suggestively. When Sophie changes into her wedding dress, she does so wearing a discreet and tasteful full-length undergarment. When Sky gets changed into his scuba suit he has to strip down to his underpants. It’s maybe no surprise that a good 75% of the audience are female.

I remember from last time how relatively straightforward the staging is – the old Greek taverna, either seen from the outside or from an inside courtyard. The clear blue simplicity of the backdrops suggests sun and sea. You could almost expect to find Shirley Valentine talking to a rock in the corner. This allows the colourfulness of the characters and their costumes to draw our attention – and several of the big set piece scenes make a huge impact. The scene where the guys dance with their big flippers on their feet is genuinely hilarious – it’s a brilliant routine by choreographer Anthony van Laast that makes them look like human versions of cartoon frogs; further evidence that the men are always made to look ridiculous in this show. The Voulez-Vous scene that closes the first act is as dynamic and exciting as anything you could wish to see on the stage, the dancers performing with eye-boggling energy; you go off for your interval drink dripping with feelgood factor. Does Your Mother Know is sung to an impishly humorous dance routine where the sexually optimistic lad Pepper bites off more than he can chew in his dealings with the glamorous cougar Tanya, who puts him in his place. And, of course, the finale involves outlandish costume changes, super fun dance moves and one of the most successful Eurovision winners ever. What’s not to love?

The energetic cast clearly have a whale of a time onstage and that enthusiasm carries on out into the auditorium. Helen Hobson plays Donna with a great combination of world-weary mother and good-time girl who’s not passed it yet. She has a terrific voice for the hi-energy numbers but really milks the pathos out of Winner Takes It All too. This is someone who sure knows how to put on a show. I also really enjoyed the performance of Emma Clifford as Tanya; think W1A’s Anna Rampton but with added joie de vivre. She gives us loads of fun with her sophisticated knowing looks and air of experience. As a fine contrast, Gillian Hardie plays the other Dynamo, Rosie; also loads of fun but with all the sophistication of Jimmie Krankie and the facial expressions of Angela Merkel. Her re-interpretation of Take a Chance on Me is without doubt one of the highlights of the evening.

Jamie Hogarth, Christopher Hollis and Jon Boydon are all very good as the three fathers but the roles are deliberately under-written so there aren’t so many opportunities for them to shine. Louis Stockil brings bags of cockiness to the role of Pepper in a very physically active and comedic performance – I’m sure he’d be a great clown as well as dancer. But maybe the star of the show is Musical Director Richard Weeden who gets the band to knock out superb arrangements of hit after hit for the best part of two and a half hours, never losing the energy or the sheer joy of the music.

It’s on at the Royal and Derngate until February 3rd, and then goes on to Wolverhampton, Sheffield, Hull, Portsmouth, Aylesbury and Manchester. A highly entertaining and energy-packed show that will leave you wanting more. No wonder it’s been such a worldwide smash.