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Review – Dom Joly, The Conspiracy Tour, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 3rd November 2024

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Can you believe it’s 25 years since Trigger Happy TV – which made Dom Joly a household name – first started broadcasting, since when he’s had several TV shows, written many books, and done a couple of live tours. The Conspiracy Tour marks his return to the stage after many years absence and – as he admits himself – is basically a book tour, publicising his new opus The Conspiracy Tourist, where he meets conspiracy theorists around the world from the bizarre to the bonkers, and even the occasionally perfectly sane.

He cuts a commanding figure on stage; relaxed, confident and thoroughly at ease. He maintains he doesn’t tell jokes – probably true – but that doesn’t stop the evening (or the first half at least) from having plenty to laugh at. He presents us with an inverse pyramid of theories; at the upside down apex, ideas which are within a hair’s breadth of reality. At the other end of the scale, stuff that’s completely doolally. And he takes us through a few of these ideas to test their reasonableness, and then raconteur his way through his experiences, trying to prove or disprove them.

For example, did you know that some people think that Finland doesn’t exist? That it’s an invention between the Russians and the Japanese to fish the waters of the Baltic and then secretly transport their catch eastwards? They believe that anyone who says they are a Finn is really a Swede. Hmmm. Well, I’ve been to Finland three times and can attest there is definitely land there. And would they really doubt the word of the great Lasse Viren? That one’s bonkers.

But what about Denver International Airport? No one doubts that its existence, but what secrets might it be hiding? Do you believe in UFOs? Dom Joly’s been to Roswell to find out (so that we don’t have to). And how about the assassination of JFK? At the top of the scale is where the Illuminati sit side-by-side with the Flat-Earthers, and Mr J has even been to Fogo Island, Newfoundland, where that latter group believe one of the four literal corners of the earth is situated (Clue: it isn’t.) There’s no doubt that he’s put the work in to make his book a definitive account of conspiracy theories and, as a comedy lecture, the first half works well.

However, after the interval things fall apart somewhat. After a lengthy introductory video, we meet Dr Julian Northcote, conspiracy theorist extraordinaire, who regales us with a few stories and attempts to prove his ridiculous ideas. Spoiler: it’s Dom Joly in a wig and glasses doing what feels like an impersonation of a Harry Enfield character. Once he’s been bundled off stage for improper behaviour, Mr Joly returns for a Q&A session; this always strikes me as being a way of a performer saying I can’t quite work out how to end this show, so you end it for me. There were a few questions about conspiracy theories, about which Mr J was rather dismissive, I thought; and a few questions about the Trigger Happy days with which he was more comfortable. It ended with a final look at conspiracy theories and the promise of an assignation in the foyer to buy his book and take selfies. And, to be fair, he had quite a queue forming when we left.

A curate’s egg of an evening, but when Mr Joly gets going on the subject of his expeditions to sort the wheat from the conspiracy chaff, he’s on great form. Only a couple more shows left of his tour now – in Carlisle and Stockton-on-Tees.

Review – The Duchess, Trafalgar Theatre, London, 2nd November 2024

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When they announced a few months ago that Jodie Whittaker would be appearing in a new version of The Duchess of Malfi I jumped at the chance, knowing this would be a big ticket show for the autumn and a massive success. Then I saw the reviews…. and we were severely tempted not to throw good money after bad and save the cost of the train ticket. But curiosity got the better of us so that we could see for ourselves just how awful the production was. And I’m very glad we did.

Given this is one of theatre’s most acclaimed plays throughout the centuries, it’s perhaps surprising how simple the story is. In a nutshell: a young widow, the Duchess has fallen for her steward, Antonio, and wants to marry him. Her brothers, the Cardinal and Ferdinand, however, want her to stay widowed and alone; their reason for this is never truly made clear – a mixture of power, jealousy, perhaps financial; but primarily simply because they can. When she marries Antonio, they are so enraged that they plot revenge, which (spoiler alerts seem hardly necessary after four hundred years) culminate in her death. Ferdinand goes mad; (nearly) everybody dies.

First, this isn’t The Duchess of Malfi as John Webster wrote it. The programme describes it as written and directed by Zinnie Harris after John Webster. I didn’t count them, but I would estimate there are about twenty of Webster’s original lines that have made it through to this version, including the famous I am Duchess of Malfi still, which, disappointingly, they use three times in the same scene, proving that sometimes less is more. Second, although the final scene ends in a bloodbath, as in the original, there’s one significant character who doesn’t die, and those that do are murdered by different people from the original. Third, of all the things that they could have dropped from the original, the songs have been included, but again performed by different people and at different points. Indeed, they are enhanced with the appearance of a musician whose sole purpose is to play the guitar and look moody. I guess the singing does lend an air of Brechtian alienation, if that was deliberate.

But this is a good moment to point out that this modern Duchess isn’t anything like as bad as some people would have you think. The storytelling is crystal clear, and although I would have preferred the new text to have more subtlety and less crudity – the Cardinal asking Julia if she wants to suck his c*ck for example, lacks iambic pentameter at the very least – it’s totally believable and extremely relevant.

There is a caveat here; after several hours of contemplation and discussion, we still can’t decide whether or not the final scene was played for laughs. According to Webster, Ferdinand accidentally wounds Bosola, which eventually causes the latter’s death. In this production, Ferdinand accidentally shoots someone else with the words oops I didn’t mean to do that. See what I mean? If they don’t mean to play it for laughs, then the whole final scene is far too ludicrous to take seriously; if they do mean to play it for laughs, it’s not funny enough. Although, to be fair: fantastic bloodography.

This version includes many of the original’s elements, such as the apricots, the use of Echo, and Ferdinand’s lycanthropy; and changes others, such as having Delio and Julia married in a loveless relationship, with Delio secretly besotted with Antonio. The torture of the Duchess is made more direct with an invasive buzzer sound and blinding light treatment, and a repeated blood-spattered projection of Antonio and her children being shot by firing squad; it may be in keeping with the rest of the play but it’s tedious and annoying to watch. Didn’t I tell you that the text could do with more subtlety?

However, it boasts a terrific cast who all put in tremendous performances. Jodie Whittaker is superb as the Duchess; forthright, cheeky, brave, and vulnerable. Joel Fry carries off Antonio’s mildness superbly, nicely underplayed and completely believable. Paul Ready’s Cardinal is deliciously duplicitous; an arrogant, hypocritical wretch and a perfect accompaniment with Rory Fleck Byrne’s unpredictable and sadistic Ferdinand. Jude Owusu’s Bosola is a man tricked into crime which clashes with his inner nobility, which he conveys powerfully well. Matti Houghton is also great as the Duchess’s maid Cariola,nicely no-nonsense, deeply practical and loyal; and there’s excellent support from Elizabeth Ayodele’s Julia and Hubert Burton’s Delio.

Webster was much possessed by death, according to T S Eliot, and this production certainly emphasises that. Clearly, if you are a Jacobean purist, you are going to hate this production. However, despite its unsubtleties and excesses, The Duchess makes for a compelling watch with excellent storytelling. The limited run lasts at the Trafalgar Theatre until 20th December.

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – Our Little Hour, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 31st October 2024

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If you made a list of people who really ought to be famous in Britain’s recent history – but aren’t – Walter Tull would be somewhere near the top. A local hero in Northampton, we have a statue of him at the Guildhall, and there’s a Walter Tull House and even Walter Tull Way skirts around Northampton Town’s football ground at Sixfields. But who was he?

That’s the question that Dougie Blaxland and Chris Anthony answer in their quite brilliant and intimate musical play Our Little Hour, commissioned by Show Racism The Red Card in association with Live Wire Theatre, and currently ending its run with three nights at the Royal and Derngate. Walter Tull was one of five children born in Folkestone, in 1888 to Barbados-born Daniel and Alice; when he was seven Alice died of cancer and his father remarried Clara, her cousin. They had another child, but then Daniel died shortly afterwards. Clara found it impossible to look after the entire family, so Walter and his older brother Edward were sent to a Home in Bethnal Green.

The play takes us from Walter’s carefree early childhood days, through the heartache of losing his parents and being sent away to a strict orphanage, to his successful football career. Walter always had an impressive talent for football, which came to fruition when he played first for non-league Clapton, then Tottenham Hotspurs no less, and finally moving to Northampton Town (big local cheers) where he settled down – and fell in love with his landlady, Emily, in Rushden. But then the First World War came, and Tull enlisted with the Army. He rose to prominence with his gallantry and leadership skills, becoming the first black Commissioned Officer in the Army. His bravery on the Italian Front led him to being recommended for the Military Cross; but he was killed in action in March 1918 before it could be awarded.

On a simple set, with just a few props but some very effective lighting, the cast of three enact the life of Tull with superb characterisations, impeccable clarity of speech and stunning vocal harmonies. Dougie Blaxland’s text is elegantly written and deals with difficult subjects like racism, injustice and grief with subtlety and delicacy, and Chris Anthony’s score dovetails perfectly into the story, and, like any good musical, always drives the narrative forwards. It reminded me strongly of arguably the best show in the genre, Howard Goodall’s The Hired Man, with its piano accompaniments and plaintive storytelling; and whilst it doesn’t have the impact of that groundbreaking show, it still packs a punch. That’s not a grotesque, painful punch, but a graceful, subtle punch that always lands its blow with precision and a lightness of touch. An example of this is the scene where Tull is writing home from the Front – his letters to Emily talk about how beautiful the countryside is and what the food is like; and are recited side-by-side with his letters to his brother which tell the brutality of war.

Leon Newman, Neil Reidman and Susie Broadbent work together as a seamless ensemble of three but also shine in their own individual roles. Mr Newman is outstanding as Walter, exuding a charismatic nobility and honesty that truly impresses. He is also excellent as the firm but fair Reverend in charge of the Folkestone church and who deposits the Tull boys in the orphanage; and as the Glaswegian Warnock who adopts Edward Tull – who himself went on to become the first mixed-heritage person to qualify as a dentist in Britain.

Susie Broadbent gives us a terrific range of characters including Alice and Clara Tull, the no-nonsense matron at the orphanage, and a very funny contribution as the manager of Spurs. Neil Reidman is great as the spirited (and spiritual) Daniel Tull, the orphanage boss, and as Herbert Chapman, the manager of Northampton Town. It’s impossible to list all their roles, because there are so many, each one clearly characterised so we never have any doubt as to whom they are portraying.

If I have a criticism, it would be that it’s a little hard to get a sense of the timings involved in Tull’s story. The play doesn’t, for example, convey the fact that Tull played for Northampton for four seasons with 111 first-team appearances; it feels more like he was only there briefly before the war started. And Emily mispronounces the name of the River Nene, which is a capital offence in Northampton! At times extremely sad, but also extraordinarily uplifting, this is a beautiful, simple but impressive production which fills a gap in our history. The run ends on Saturday 2nd November, but hopefully this marvellous show and its terrific performances will have a life in the future.

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

The George Orwell Challenge – Spilling the Spanish Beans (1937)

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You can read Spilling the Spanish Beans online here.

No doubt fired up by his experiences in northern England, witnessing the poverty and working routines of miners, which led to the publication of The Road to Wigan Pier, Orwell now turned his attention to an international stage; the events and lives of those caught up in the Spanish Civil War. He had travelled to Barcelona in December 1936 to collect material for newspaper articles, and maybe stay and fight in the war. He only took a day to conclude that he wanted to enlist, and he was sent to Alcubierre on the Aragon Front.

Spilling the Spanish Beans was his first written work concerning the war; a mixture of news reporting, political opinion and eye-witness account. An essay in two parts, it was published on 29th July and 2nd September 1937. Having left Spain in June 1937, he had travelled (with his wife Eileen) to Banyuls-sur-Mer, in the far south of France, less than ten miles from the Spanish border. He started writing the essay there. It was to be called Eye Witness in Barcelona, and it was agreed that it would be published in the New Statesman. However, its editor, Kingsley Martin, rejected it on the grounds that it could “cause trouble”. Fortunately Philip Mairet, editor of the New English Weekly, and always a strong supporter of Orwell’s work, accepted the essay for publication.

As a historical document written about the war, Part One of the essay is not so much a simple account of its causes or the manner in which the war was waged, but much more about how its reporting was – in his opinion – a distortion of the truth so that newspaper readers in Britain would have a poor understanding of what was really happening. And, despite what Orwell considers to be clearly made-up stories published in the likes of the Daily Mail, in fact he attributes the misinformation to the leftwing papers: “It is the left-wing papers, the News Chronicle and the Daily Worker, with their far subtler methods of distortion, that have prevented the British public from grasping the real mature of the struggle.”

The basis of Orwell’s argument is “that the Spanish Government (including the semi-autonomous Catalan Government) is far more afraid of the revolution than of the Fascists.” Orwell himself witnessed the fact that, when he left Barcelona in June 1937, “the jails were bulging […] but the people who are in prison now are not Fascists but revolutionaries; they are not there because their opinions are too much to the Right, but because they are too much to the Left.”

This may be the moment in Orwell’s life when any sympathy he felt for, or connection he felt with Communism was lost. We know of his criticism, veiled and not-so-veiled, of Communism in the likes of his later works Animal Farm and Nineteen Eighty-Four. And in his previous book The Road to Wigan Pier, he spoke warmly of socialism being the answer to the nation’s problems – even if he had problems with socialists themselves. In that book, for example, he was very complimentary about the good work of the National Unemployed Workers’ Movement, which had been founded by the Communist Party of Great Britain. But it’s in Spilling the Spanish Beans that he first recognises that “so few people in England have yet caught up with the fact that Communism is now a counter-revolutionary force; that Communists everywhere are in alliance with bourgeois reformism and using the whole of their powerful machinery to crush or discredit any party that shows signs of revolutionary tendencies.”

Orwell goes on to illustrate how, in his opinion, many months after the war has started, nearly all progress that had been made by the Republicans had been reversed: “As power slipped from the hands of the Anarchists into the hands of the Communists and right-wing Socialists, the Government was able to reassert itself, the bourgeoisie came out of hiding and the old division of society into rich and poor reappeared, not much modified.” Orwell cites “the breaking-up of the old workers’ militias, which were organized on a genuinely democratic system, with officers and men receiving the same pay and mingling on terms of complete equality” as being just one instance of regrettable regression; “the undoubted purpose of the change was to strike a blow at equalitarianism.”

Foreign interference had, in his view, added to the process; arms provided by Mexico and especially Russia meant that they could “extort terms as well. Put in their crudest form, the terms were: “Crush the revolution or you get no more arms.”” Russian influence always raises what Orwell calls “the Communist prestige”, and although the Communists denied that there had been any pressure from the Russian government, he notes that “the Communist Parties of all countries can be taken as carrying out Russian policy; and it is certain that the Spanish Communist Party, plus the right-wing Socialists whom they control, plus the Communist Press of the whole world, have used all their immense and ever-increasing influence upon the side of counter-revolution.”

Part Two of the essay looks at the wider political implications of the war. Orwell warns of the dangers of Communist anti-revolutionary propaganda, which would deny that the Spanish Government is crushing the revolution, “because the revolution never happened.” He considers the relevance it might have in England, “if England enters into an alliance with the USSR […] for the influence of the Communist Party is bound to increase.”

“Broadly speaking,” Orwell proposes, “Communist propaganda depends upon terrifying people with the (quite real) horrors of Fascism. It also involves pretending […] that Fascism has nothing to do with capitalism […] Present Fascism in this form, and you can mobilise public opinion against it.” He goes on to provide some rhetorical instances about how one might contradict someone “who points out that Fascism and bourgeois democracy are Tweedledum and Tweedledee”, including labelling them a Trotskyist; and there is a whole paragraph explaining the ins and outs and nuances of what Orwell describes as “this terrible word.”

Orwell describes how various categories of politicians, or indeed, anyone expressing a political opinion, would, one by one, be presented as traitors. “The logical end is a regime in which every opposition party and newspaper is suppressed and every dissentient of any importance is in jail.” He believes that the Anarchists and then the Communists “have succeeded in killing enthusiasm (inside Spain, not outside)” and made conscription necessary as a result. “A revolutionary army can sometimes win by enthusiasm, but a conscript army has got to win with weapons.”

What is Orwell’s prognosis for the future? “All prophecies are wrong, therefore this one will be wrong, but I will take a chance and say that though the war may end quite soon or may drag on for years, it will end with Spain divided up, either by actual frontiers or into economic zones.” In the event, Spain certainly remained a whole nation; even today calls for a separate Catalonia are heavily cracked down on by the Spanish government. He goes on to predict: “and thus we are one step nearer to the great war “against Fascism” […] which will allow Fascism, British variety, to be slipped over our necks during the first week.” Orwell was partly right; the start of the Second World War was only two years away. However, the “British Fascism” didn’t take hold as he thought it would or as quickly as he envisaged. He predicted this oncoming British Fascism in The Road to Wigan Pier too. But that’s not to say it might not still happen.

This is a very dense and intricate piece of writing, heavily factual and insightful from the point of view of one who had been there and fought the war. It’s not an easy read, nor to be honest, is it a particularly interesting one. You get the sense that Orwell needed to get his acute experiences and memories out of his system and apply constructive reason to his material. His experiences would, of course, be worked up into Homage to Catalonia, his next book, which he would set about writing instantly and would be published the following year.

Review – The New Real, RSC at The Other Place, Stratford-upon-Avon, 28th October 2024

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Late to the party for the second time in two days – we’re now in the final week of the Royal Shakespeare Company’s production of David Edgar’s new play The New Real at The Other Place. I remember almost fifty years ago being excited at reading (sadly not seeing) Mr Edgar’s Destiny, a gritty political exposé of the clutch that the Hard Right were beginning to take on Britain; and here we are again on the verge of the most vital election in the USA which could affect the way the world swings for Heaven knows how long. Not that much has changed, sadly.

Larry and RachelDavid Edgar’s fascination by all things political hasn’t weakened over the decades. The New Real looks at the machinations behind elections, the researchers and strategists who find endless ways to make their chosen candidates stand out ahead of the pack; advising on everything from how to stand at a lectern to using the Eurovision Song Contest to promote their message. Starting with the fall of the Berlin Wall, this ambitious and far-ranging play takes us through some vital moments in recent history, seen through the electoral opportunities on offer in an unnamed but only partially fictional ex-Soviet state, where its annual song festival is considered more essential to the country’s wellbeing than any strategic advisor.

LutsevicRachel Moss and Larry Yeates, battling within a perilous working partnership on the brink of collapse, are electoral and political strategists for hire, he in particular happy to take on work that financially rewards him more than interests him. Caro Wheeler, a pollster with minute attention to detail, advises them with all the essential facts and figures from her endless focus groups. First supporting the presidential candidate Lutsevic, they switch to Bezborodko when research reveals her profile is more palatable to the electorate. But can their operation continue when Rachel works for one candidate and Larry drifts towards another? And furthermore, what happens when one candidate starts hammering home their old off-script, pro-Soviet beliefs?

CompanyHolly Race Roughan always brings her own stamp to whatever play she directs, and The New Real is no exception. It’s staged in traverse, always a bold choice which offers an audience a different way of looking at a play. Dividing an audience into two parts, they see the same performance but from two opposing sides, much as an election divides the people who have judged party manifestos from two different angles. There may be a suggestion that it provides a show-off catwalk for the parties to strut and flaunt their views and policies in front of us. It also accentuates a suggestion of invasiveness, such as the opening scene where Larry is interrupted using the Gents toilet to be harangued by others, or indeed where his shower is disturbed by an unexpected visitor. There is no hiding place in traverse.

Rachel and CaroThe set is dominated by six huge screens on either side of the stage, showing various political video footage from the Second World War to the present day; at first, you wonder how they’re going to perform around them because they seem fixed solid. But as the show starts the lower three screens glide up behind the upper screens, which continue operating throughout the play, setting context and location. One might feel that maybe the screens dominate the proceedings just a little too much, but then again that just emphasises the importance of what appears on our screens at election time.

Oleg and NataliaThe first Act is extremely intense and packed with content – an overloaded whirlwind of information that at times it’s hard to keep up with what’s going on. But you certainly go into the interval with your head buzzing with the ruthlessness of the democratic procedure. The second Act, however, is blissfully riveting drama throughout, driven by a clear, powerful narrative that makes us desperate to discover who wins the election – not that it’s as simple as that, as we discover. As an aside, it’s also an excellent portrayal of how Americans (for the most part) don’t understand the concept and power of Eurovision; and I really admire Mr Edgar for getting so many facts about the contest right!

Martina LairdMartina Laird is outstanding as Rachel Moss, a wily, ruthless, opinionated but also very engaging personality, ducking and diving her way through intrigues, knowing when to back off and offer the sincere apology; she’s a brilliant creation and Ms Laird nails it. Lloyd Owen is also very powerful as the belligerent but gifted strategist Larry, Machiavellian, determined, fearless and tetchy – a very believable characterisation. Jodie McNee is excellent as the ever resourceful Caro, Roderick Hill is also terrific as Petr Lutsevic, the candidate who goes too far, and Patrycja Kujawska is great as Liudmilla Bezborodko, progressing from a down-at-heel campaign manager mistaken for a cleaner, to the elegant, no-nonsense, power-dressing president whom you wouldn’t dare cross. And indeed the entire company puts in a superb, committed performance.

Lloyd OwenIt’s not a perfect play. There are elements of the first Act which drag and come across as stodgy; and there’s an important scene where the motivation behind Caro’s actions are not made sufficiently clear and it left us, and I suspect others, bewildered. However, that doesn’t detract from the play’s impact, relevance and its wholescale depressingly realistic take on modern democracy. As a voter, you are a mere bit-part in a larger strategy to attain power and wealth for others. Trust no one and nothing.

Production photos by Ikin Yum

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – The Cabinet Minister, Menier Chocolate Factory, London, 27th October 2024

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Late to the party on this one! Sir Arthur Wing Pinero’s 1890 Court farce The Cabinet Minister has had new life breathed into it in Nancy Carroll’s jolly adaptation, currently packing them in at the Menier. I must confess, as old as I am, this was my first exposure to the works of Sir Arthur, who has been somewhat overlooked over the last fifty years or so; and this production has left me curious to discover more of his work – which can only be a good thing.

It’s always a delight to realise that a play from long ago still raises issues that are relevant today. The Cabinet Minister in question is Sir Julian Twombley, accused of accepting favours – can you imagine such a thing happening today (pause for ironic reflection)? Not only that, his wife and son are a pair of profligates who spend inordinate amounts of money on a sumptuous lifestyle that they can’t afford. Worse still, in their social circle, are a couple of working class people – Fanny and Bernard Lacklustre – who are doing really well for themselves. You know the type – all cash and no taste. Regrettably there are outstanding bills payable to them that the Twombleys have no hope of paying. However, these dreadful people will let the bills go unpaid if Lady Twombly allows them full access to upper class salons and a private indication from Sir Julian as to whether the Rajputana Canal will be built. Successful insider trading will make the smarmy Lacklustre a fortune.

Corruption, debt, class; they’re all there, just as they are today. So it doesn’t take a lot of fine tuning to present this play to a modern-day audience; just a little clipping, reshaping and re-naming, and the removal of a few less savoury observations of the day. The script has been tightened up a little, with some cheeky wordplay (fiddle and flaps come to mind). The biggest innovation in this production is the use of instruments on stage; a natural progression from the original, where Sir Julian plays the flute to calm his nerves. In Paul Foster’s production, Sir Julian’s woodwind is but one element of a full musical motif that dots in and out of the show.

Janet Bird’s engaging set presents the Twombleys’ elegant conservatory in Act One and transforms itself to the spacious hall of Drumdurris Castle in Act Two; a transformation that requires many backstage staff working flat out during the twenty minute interval. The costume design is first rate and absolutely in keeping with the 1890s, so the whole production is a feast for the eyes.

Nancy Carroll shines as Lady Twombley, the perfect glamorous hostess, despising what she has to endure with the commoners whilst deeply supportive and affectionate for her family members. Nicholas Rowe is an upstanding Sir Julian, Sara Crowe an enjoyable meddlesome Dora, and Phoebe Fildes and Laurence Ubong Williams terrific as the despicable Lacklustres. Dillie Keane and Matthew Woodyatt form a very funny double act as the mother and son Macphails; completely over the top, but the show demands it. There’s also excellent support from Joe Edgar as posh boy Brooke, George Blagden as his globetrotting cousin Valentine, and Rosalind Ford as the spoilt but endearing Imogen.

In the end, Pinero plays it safe and doesn’t disturb the status quo – the upper class win the day and the commoners are sent packing. Whilst The Cabinet Minister never ascends to a level of riotous belly-laugh inducing comedy, it is constantly entertaining and thoroughly well done. There’s an irony in that Pinero’s Court farces of the 1880s and 90s were so called because they were staged at the Court theatre, now better known as the Royal Court; home in the 1950s and 60s to the works of the angry young men of the time, who would have despised Pinero’s output.

But there’s always room for a well-made play, and I note with interest that the original production of The Cabinet Minister included one Brandon Thomas in the cast playing Macphail, only two years before he also appeared in his own, hugely successful, new play, Charley’s Aunt, at the Royalty Theatre. A good Victorian play should never go away, and I for one am pleased to see Pinero back in town.

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Never Let Me Go, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 24th October 2024

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Never Let Me GoI’d neither read the original book of Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go, nor seen the film, so had no expectations of what might be in this play, co-produced by the Royal and Derngate, Rose Theatre, Bristol Old Vic and Malvern Theatres. Suzanne Heathcote’s excellent stage adaptation is a complicated, multi-layered story that develops on a number of timescales and in many different locations, and this production tells its tale with admirable clarity.

The CottageThis England of the 1980s and 90s is a country with a subset of non-people, cloned with the sole purpose to provide organs so that the “real” inhabitants can survive disease, catastrophe and the aging process. These subhumans are separated from the earliest age, brought up and educated separately, designed to go straight from school to “the cottages”, where, rather like the characters in Pulp’s Common People, they “dance and drink and screw because there’s nothing else to do”.

DonationThey then become carers for those starting their donating “careers”; and once they get called up they spend their lives in and out of hospital, having organs removed with no regard for their own needs. Occasionally they don’t survive the first harvesting, and it’s pretty much accepted that no one gets past their fourth donation-transaction. They don’t then die, they complete. There’s no sympathy for this subset of people, and in fact they’re pretty much despised by the public. It’s a horrendously savage and bitter take on the human condition, and I found the story profoundly unsettling, unpleasant, and above all, sad.

Clone KidsOne of the most quotable quotes I ever heard was the playwright Edward Bond, in his original author’s note accompanying his play Saved: “Clutching at straws is the only realistic thing to do.” And it’s true; we do spend our lives clutching at straws, whether it’s the hope that “everything will be alright in the end”, or that the awful job will get better eventually, or that if we say our prayers we’ll go to heaven. Ishiguro’s characters, given an unusually artistic and rewarding education at the private Hailsham School, are led to believe that if they excel at art, their works will be displayed in a gallery; others can see into their souls and if it’s clear that they are in love, they may be granted a deferral from their eventually unavoidable purpose in life. Clutching at straws, indeed.

Carer and DonorThe story concentrates on Kathy H (none of the clones have surnames, just identifying letters) who takes to the role of carer with an enthusiasm and commitment that the others simply lack. The play starts with her taking her latest donor through his procedures, but when he finds out that she went to Hailsham he is curious to know more about what it was like. Thus the narrative takes us back to her schooldays, the early friendships and rivalries, and the relationships with the guardians. It then progresses through her time at the cottage, and into being a carer for several years. But there’s never any doubt as to her eventual fate, and the play nicely ends where it starts with the same actor who was her donor in the first scene now being her carer in the last.

Nice setThere’s much to admire in this production. Tom Piper’s set, ostensibly located in a hospital, with five double doors in a semi-circle, also doubles up beautifully as the school and other locations; combined with Joshua Carr’s lighting and Carolyn Downing’s sound, it also conveys beautifully the wide expanse of beach that provides a brief moment of respite for Kathy, Ruth and Tommy.

Ruth, Kathy and TommyThere are also some fantastic performances from the busy cast, many of whom take on several roles. Nell Barlow is superb throughout as Kathy H, rarely off stage, an upbeat characterisation of someone who sees the best in others and always tries to accentuate the positive, even when it causes her own personal pain and grief. There are also brilliant performances by Angus Imrie as Tommy D, the sporty Hailsham kid who had anger management issues and always carries a torch for Kathy, and Matilda Baines as Ruth C, Kathy’s childhood best friend who barely suppresses a cruel and manipulative streak. There’s a moment when the adult Kathy and Tommy locate Hailsham head guardian Miss Emily, who explains some of the background that they could never understand as children. Susan Aderin gives an agonisingly heart-wrenching performance as Miss Emily in this most thrilling scene of the play. But the entire cast give an excellent performance throughout.

Kathy and RuthThere is one directorial affectation, however, that drove me to distraction. Almost every scene ends with a character saying the first line of the next scene. That may not sound like much of a problem, but in practice it exasperated me – an unnecessary, and regularly predictable gimmick. I couldn’t see the point of it at the time, and I still can’t. In fact, it set my back up so much that I found it hard to warm to the production until after the interval, when the device is used less frequently. That aside, it’s a thought-provoking, powerful play that poses many questions about the purpose of life and our relationships with each other. Having started life at the Rose Theatre Kingston, it is just about to end its run at the Royal and Derngate Northampton, but its tour continues to Malvern and the Bristol Old Vic, finishing at the Chichester Festival Theatre at the end of November.

Production photos by Hugo Glendenning

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Othello, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Company, Stratford-upon-Avon, 22nd October 2024

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Poetry versus prose; a balance seen throughout Shakespeare’s tragedies. The elegant, effervescent, emotional language of the tragic hero set against the inward-looking, low-level gutter tactics of the scoundrel who’s out to get him. Lear has his Edmund to contend with, but perhaps more than in any other Shakespeare tragedy, the epitome of the great man brought down by a lowlife is embodied in Othello and Iago. And there’s no doubt that Tim Carroll’s new production for the RSC conveys those opposites effectively. However, despite several excellent technical aspects, and good story-telling skills, there are also many ways in which this production disappoints.

Shimmering BoxOn entering the auditorium you are met with a shimmering curtain made of what looks like gauze strips plunging down from the roof in a box shape. As the performance begins, the box is seen to contain fifteen or so cast members singing with rousing operatic skills one of composer James Oxley’s specially written pieces for the production. It sets a formal, alien, but very stylish tone. The music returns occasionally throughout the show; always immaculately delivered and a treat for the ear, but as a refreshing musical sorbet rather than integral to the piece.

A handkerchiefThe shimmering curtain also appears at the back of the stage, swooshing in and out to provide a place for the characters to hide offstage but still be part of the scene; it’s visually intriguing and stimulating. Apart from the occasional presence of the shimmering box the stage is bare – giving plenty of opportunities for our imaginations to fill in the scenes. The lighting, too, casts many an atmosphere over the proceedings, and Judith Bowden’s costume design has gone down the traditional route, with a goodly amount of doublet and hose and a plethora of bustles.

IagoUnfortunately, it’s when we come to the content of the performance that things start to fall apart. At the heart of the problem is Will Keen’s performance as Iago. Iago hides in plain sight, usually as a likeable confident, able to hold his swagger with the best of them, so that it’s a true shock to everyone when his real character is revealed. However, this Iago is a sneaky, whiny, snidey, muttering dogsbody who tends to inwardly converse rather than share his thoughts with the audience. You sense he concocts his wicked plans in real time, rather than their being well planned, and he amuses himself with his own duplicity. Although this portrayal of Iago is totally believable in itself, I find it hard to believe this would be the kind of person that Othello would have considered to be worthy of becoming his most trusted ancient.

Othello and DesdemonaIt also sets the tone for the rest of the production – an Othello devoid of emotion, distant, detached, bloodless, and surprisingly high in cynical humour. In fact I’ve never seen a production of Othello that is so played for laughs. Regrettably, this works against the play’s essential tragedy so that the moments of high drama are lost. It really should not be the case that Iago’s murder of his wife Emilia is a cause for laughter; let’s face it, domestic violence is not funny. The ultimate act of horror in the play, when Othello kills Desdemona, is unexpectedly performed in total darkness, as if to deny it’s really happening. All we can hear is some uncomfortable scuffling, like the sound of a fishmonger trying to restrain a feisty flounder flapping around on a slab. I’m afraid it was quite ludicrous.

Roderigo, Iago, CassioThere is a sense of the production being stylised for stylisation’s sake. I could not understand, for example, why characters would walk towards the stage along the aprons and then hover in stagey dramatic mode before entering it. It looks pompous. As the end-of-play deaths increase, Emilia and Othello calmly join Desdemona within the shimmering box of doom, like a trio of isolated computer viruses destined to cause no harm. And the scene where Iago wounds Cassio and murders Roderigo takes place without them being anywhere near each other, each in their own spotlight; it had all the dramatic intensity of Tess Daly revealing that Cassio would be up against Roderigo in the dance-off.

OthelloWhereas Will Keen is very at ease putting his own spin on Iago’s prose, John Douglas Thompson seems less at ease with Othello’s poetic speeches, especially in the first act where it often feels more like a recital than a lived experience. He warms up considerably after the interval where, gripped by the green eyed monster, he literally buckles under the weight of torment and gives a powerful portrayal of a great man totally broken.

DukeThere is one highpoint of absolute dramatic tension, when Othello grips Iago by the throat in his fury; it stands out as being a genuine “letting-go” moment, but even so its power is reduced by Iago’s post-clutch semi-comic reaction. Jethro Skinner’s well-pitched Roderigo is only very lightly foppish, although Colin Hurley’s Brabantio is more of a pantomime buffoon, and John Paul Connolly makes the most of his appearance as the Duke of Venice.

EmiliaJuliet Rylance gives us a very clear, demure and uncomplicated Desdemona, but it is only Anastasia Hille who truly gets under the skin of her character Emilia with some devastatingly eviscerating speeches that seal her fate at the hands of her villainous husband.

Iago and the ladsEven then, because of the frigid nature of the entire production, there’s no emotional reaction to Emilia’s fate, nor indeed, anyone’s. The essentially cerebral, delicate and remote stylisation tells the story clearly but also becomes monotonous, which must be a cardinal sin in a production of this most vibrant and eloquent of Shakespeare’s plays.

Production photos by Johan Persson

Two Disappointing For More!

Review – Russell Hicks, Happy to be Here, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 20th October 2024

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It’s been ten years since we first saw Russell Hicks, since when he has been a mainstay in our comedy list of must-see favourites. A regular pop-up at comedy clubs, this is his first proper UK tour; it’s ten years since he moved here, and he’s clearly decided that he’s Happy to be Here (as that’s the title of the show). Of course, all proper UK tours have a support act; and his is Russell Hicks, in the form of an introduction, who comes on for twenty-five minutes for a bit of banter and get-to-know-you. After the interval he returns as Russell Hicks, headliner, where he actually appears to have some pre-prepared material. I know! I couldn’t believe it either.

If you’ve seen him before, you’ll know that he’s all about reacting to whatever accidental comedy gems the audience throws at him – and he’ll run with them as surely and swiftly as if Usain Bolt were nipping at his heels. The man has an extraordinary memory and attention to detail; the tiniest fact that might have been briefly mentioned an hour and a half earlier and to which no one paid any real attention, will suddenly reappear as a callback from the Gods. An undeniable fact: sit anywhere near the front and it’s likely you will be part of the action. Fortunately, he comes across as hugely likeable, so he can get away with the most merciless of teasing; and whilst he does have a slight sense of danger about him, none of his humour is ever cruel. In fact, the badinage is often supportive and kindly.

From conversations with audience members, we learned how Iain is a football darts kind of guy, Marco is from Germany but has an Italian name because it was trendy at the time, Sam is a 20 year old electrician with the world at his feet, Danielle and Ryan were probably at it in the car during the interval, the man from Turkey has been here 29 years and is with Him Tim, and the couple in the front row had separate children (and pets) and lived in Rushden, which, apparently, is located just on the other side of the emergency exit. The show is nothing if not informative.

As indicated earlier, it’s not all audience-riffing. Ten years of living in Britain has revealed to him the true British behaviour on board trains – especially the late night ones, the nonsense of him passing his driving test on Skye, the differences between boy and girl children, and an appreciation for all the accents that the United Kingdom boasts. Such a shame he can only do one of them – norf London geezer (or for women, Essex girls). A brief brush with American politics shows why he can’t really disapprove of Donald Trump – it’s a tongue in cheek moment, don’t worry.

Above all, he is really happy to be here, and we’re very happy to have him. All that thinking on his feet must be exhausting – as a result no two Russell Hicks shows are ever the same, but they’re always full of laughter. As an example, he must have mined at least ten minutes of material from speculating on the differences between shows in the Royal (very aspirational), in the Derngate (not at all aspirational), and in what he called the Cinema Room, where he found himself – in reality, the rather unforgiving Screen 2 of the Northampton Filmhouse, whose career as a comedy venue will hopefully come to an end soon when the Underground finally reopens after they’ve got rid of all that RAAC. Whatever the venue, as an Official Hicksie (that’s what we are, apparently), he’s always welcome. The Happy to be Here tour continues on-and-off throughout the UK until April 2025, and you’d be daft to miss it.

Review – The Cat and the Canary, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 2nd October 2024

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The Cat and the Canary, which closes the Chichester Summer Festival for 2024, is a co-production with Told By An Idiot, whose previous work has always specialised in the wackier forms of comedy but with a serious underlying message. This popular old story, that first came to light over a hundred years ago, ought to be the perfect vehicle for the company, with its combination of humour, shock horror and downright silliness. But does it work?

Carl Grose’s adaptation transports the setting to somewhere near Bodmin Moor, but otherwise keeps the basics of the original, with a scary old house miles from anywhere, a diverse bunch of extraordinary house guests, eccentric old retainers, and the obligatory filthy weather outside. It’s time to read the will of Cyrus West who died ten or twenty years ago (not sure when – nor do we know why it wasn’t read when he died, but, hey ho) and to discover which of his money-grabbing relatives is going to get all the dosh. It is revealed that the inheritance all goes to one person, unless they are not of sound mind, in which case there is an alternative arrangement. However, before the will is read, solicitor Crosby discovers that it had already been discovered in its secret hiding place and opened and read by a person or persons unknown. It’s just not cricket.

I should point out that the performance I saw was the final preview, but I can’t imagine much will have changed between then and the press night. There are plenty of things that this production does well, and quite a few where it most surprisingly doesn’t. Let’s start with the positives.

It’s a very funny script, including one line which made me laugh possibly more than any other line in a play all year: the set-up is the housekeeper asking the pompous actor if he was scared of finding himself in a big, gloomy house – I won’t spoilt it with the punchline, but the production gets an extra star for that. The cast all give fully charged, committed performances including a few examples of tremendous physical comedy. Nick Haverson’s flipping between the two roles of Crosby and Hendricks is done tremendously well, and I did enjoy Lena Kaur’s Susan Sillsby’s outrageous drunk routine. And there are some inspired pieces of comic invention, such as Mr Haverson abandoning his drum set and descending to the stage using a fireman’s pole, for absolutely no reason other than the fact that he can.

But there’s the rub; there are several comic interventions and directorial decisions that are done just because they can, and with no relevance that I could make out to the play or story itself. There is an occasional appearance of a Red Riding Hood type puppet that looks and feels spooky but doesn’t seem to have any connection to the rest of the plot. The final scene involves a red curtain being brought across the back of the stage and a character going behind it and popping her head through the curtains for some comic business. Then, lights out, finita la comedia. Not the remotest clue what that was about.

The play is only about two hours long including a twenty minute interval, so it feels very uneven to have a first act that’s over an hour and a second act that’s all done and dusted in thirty-five minutes – shades of Glengarry Glen Ross there. The denouement, if you can call it that, feels very rushed in that brief second act. It comes on you unexpectedly and totally lacking suspense, so that the whodunit revelation makes you think – is that all?

Technically, it’s an odd decision to make the offstage cast members getting into place at the back of the stage so visible to the audience; as a result, no appearance coming through the door is ever a surprise. But perhaps the biggest fault of all is that the blocking is terrible. We had fairly central seats in Row C and so many of the scenes were rendered invisible by actors standing immobile in our sightline.

Truly a curate’s egg. A lovely sense of the ridiculous – that’s undeniable, and with some excellent spooky effects and a script that sometimes sparkles sensationally. But less is often more, and throwing the kitchen sink at this production devoids it of any sense of danger or tension. This tale told by an idiot really does signify nothing, unfortunately. That said, I did laugh a lot, so it does something right!

3-starsThree-sy Does It!