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Review – Little Shop of Horrors, Crucible Theatre, Sheffield, 19th December 2024

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When I saw that the Sheffield Crucible were staging Little Shop of Horrors as their Christmas musical this year my heart leapt. One of my favourite memories from ever watching a show was the first time I saw LSOH in 1984 at the then named Comedy Theatre in London; I still recall the genuinely terrifying moment at the end when unseen tendrils descended from the roof and gently touched my face and hair without my knowing where they had come from – they gave me the fright of my life!

Forty years on, Amy Hodge brings a new production to the Crucible with its wide open spaces and new challenges as to how to present the show; and the whole team has done a fine job in updating it, with some bold staging decisions which certainly pleased a large percentage of the audience at Thursday’s matinee, but didn’t always sit quite right with me.

But let’s not run before we can walk. I’m sure you know the concept behind Little Shop of Horrors, but just in case… Mushnik’s flower shop on Skid Row is down on its uppers; a dead beat location, an unmotivated staff and Mr Mushnik is just about ready to shut up shop for good, when his assistant Seymour shows him a new plant he’s been cultivating. Its creation coincided with an unexpected total eclipse, which seems to have given it a life of its own. Unfortunately for Seymour, it thrives on blood, and, because it’s his protégé, he feels obliged to feed it a few of his own red drops every day. He calls the plant Audrey II, in honour of his much admired colleague Audrey who doesn’t seem to notice him – she only has time for her sadistic boyfriend who assaults her. However, Audrey II grows, and grows – and becomes celebrated in the neighbourhood, transforming the fortunes of the shop and Mushnik’s income. What could possibly go wrong? You’ll have to come and see the show if you don’t know!

Georgia Lowe has created a very inventive set that combines the destitution of Skid Row with modern digital interfaces as well as the traditional florist shop. I love how the refuse bins at the side of the stage become their own acting spaces – extremely clever! Of course, the big challenge is how to create Audrey II. In the past it has been brought to life purely by means of puppetry and an offstage actor’s voice. But in this production, Audrey II is now performed by an actor, who gradually increases in power and vocality by means of additional mouths and stems, separately animated by other actors.

Despite Sam Buttery’s excellent vocal performance, I simply couldn’t believe in this presentation. Separating the different elements of Audrey II’s body (for want of a better word) so clearly stops us from believing in its being one plant and not several; and seeing Sam Buttery’s face at a relatively early stage in the performance also prevents our own imaginations from working to imagine the increasingly horrific appearance of the plant. Once seen, Audrey II’s identity is fixed in our brains, so there’s no route for her to get scarier, and, despite all the other actors lugging around enormous green shoots and tendrils, you never really get the impression of Audrey II’s overwhelming growth.

The show is clearly set on Skid Row; a distinctly American term for a down-at-heel environment, and the Americanisms of the original show are all still there in full force – prices are given in dollars, and when we see money being handled, it’s undoubtedly American greenbacks. However, Seymour has a pure strong Brummie accent, Orin speaks the Full King’s English, and the chorus of street girls are as London as you can get; in fact, there’s not an American accent anywhere to be heard. Don’t get me wrong; I found it rather refreshing to witness a very British Little Shop of Horrors, but it reveals a huge disconnect between the performance and the material, which just doesn’t feel right.

Fortunately, the performances are extremely good, with some outstanding vocals and characterisations. Wilf Scolding does a terrific job of portraying just how vile Orin is, and he mines all the humour out of the excellent Be a Dentist. Lizzy Rose Esin Kelly, Paige Fenlon and Charlotte Jaconelli give us great harmonies as the Ronette/Chiffon/Crystal girls, and there’s great support from Michael Matus’ Mushnik and indeed the whole talented ensemble.

In the lead roles, Sam Buttery’s powerful voice leaves us in no doubt as to the menace of Audrey II’s appetite, and Colin Ryan’s Seymour is nicely nerdy, like a green-fingered IT specialist. Georgina Onuorah is sensational as Audrey, with a stunning voice and a powerful, emotional delivery. It says a lot for their performances that, despite all the high energy, flashy dancing and big rocky numbers, the two stand-out moments were Ms Onuorah’s fantastic Somewhere That’s Green in the first Act and her shared Suddenly Seymour with Mr Ryan in the second. For me, these heartfelt, plaintive performances really blew the rest of the show out of the water.

One can only admire the creativity and inventiveness that went into bringing this show to the stage, and the audience went wild for it. Remember – always stick to regular plant food, much the safest way. Little Shop of Horrors is on at the Crucible until 18th January.

 

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Snow White, Lyceum Theatre, Sheffield, 18th December 2024

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Whilst there are ravens at the Tower of London, a debate about whether it’s cream or jam first, and leaves on the line bring the country to a standstill, you know that Damian Williams will appear as the Dame at the Sheffield Lyceum panto. This year his Nurse Nellie crops up in Snow White, a fairytale known for its important role of a fat bloke in a dress. (It isn’t really, but when did that matter?)

There’s always a huge buzz of anticipation for this annual treat as the packed audience look forward to ticking off each of the elements that they love and know will entertain them throughout the show. From the Bring Me Sunshine introduction, to selecting Nellie’s new boyfriend from the audience, to becoming a member of Muddles’ gang, to the ghost/bench scene, to Damian trying to make Prince Charming corpse, and of course ending up with a big wedding celebration, Snow White is full of the usual joys of the Christmas season, delivered with heart and commitment, and always extremely funny.

Heading the cast this year is Coronation Street’s Catherine Tyldesley, bringing a rather elegant villainy to the role of the Wicked Queen, and astounding us all with her sensational voice. Marc Pickering also returns as Henchman Herman, having given us his Luke Backinanger in Jack and the Beanstalk two years ago.His dream (this year) is to perform as Elton John; no surprises then, as to the nature of the big finale number. Matthew Croke and Aoife Kenny provide a terrific musical pairing as Prince Charming and Snow White, George Akid’s Muddles keeps us all shouting at him on his every appearance, and there’s some unexpected fun in the form of Quang Luong’s Henchman Viper – the Gladiator hero of the same name.

Dean Whatton’s Sarge leads a very entertaining and musical “Seven”; I particularly liked Binde Singh Johal’s rather cynical Kevin, who, at the realisation that Snow White has died (she hasn’t really, kids) just says “ah well, takeaway tonight lads”.There’s an additional member of the cast when the irrepressibly energetic musical director James Harrison – I’ll have what he’s having – joins the regulars for the bench sketch.

But it’s Damian Williams whom we’re all here to see, and once again he comes up trumps with a hilarious and punchy performance, outrageously dressed throughout, never missing an opportunity to plug this year’s sponsors, Henderson’s Relish – there are even special Damian bottles of Hendo’s with his face on, that’s how established in the Sheffield scene he is. My favourite gag this year mentioned Yakult as part of the punchline, but I won’t spoil it for everyone else.

My only quibble with this year’s production is that the amplification of the superb four-piece band was so powerful that there was a little distortion and I couldn’t always make out the lyrics to the big songs. But rest assured we have already secured our tickets for Aladdin next year. I think you should too!

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Twelfth Night, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 17th December 2024

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What could be more festive than a Christmas production of Shakespeare’s perennial favourite, Twelfth Night, with its separated twins, foppish companion, cross-garter’d steward and – naturally – a girl dressed as a boy. It simply wouldn’t be Christmas without it. This is one of Shakespeare’s most robust comedies, able to survive the slings and arrows of outrageous directorial decisions, always bouncing back again in rude health for another production.

ViolaAny outrageous decisions made by director Prasanna Puwananarajah fully emphasise his vision to set it in an indistinct but modern era and give it a yuletide boot up the backside with some superbly inventive comedy to set against the darker aspects of the plot, whilst still staying pretty much faithful to the original. And one of the ways in which this production stands out is the ease with which it flips from hilarity to darkness with a truly deft sense of balance.

Orsino and CesarioIt can be very tempting to overlook the cruelty and sadness that lurks beneath the surface of this play. The twins individually mourn the supposed loss of their sibling. Disloyalty and pretence abound; if you’re not part of the in-crowd, you’re definitely out. Sir Toby and Maria may head up their own clique when it comes to fooling Aguecheek or bullying Malvolio, but when it comes to the crunch, they don’t have any real power and get swatted down by Olivia like flies to wanton boys (wrong play, but you get my gist.)

AntonioNowhere is this clearer than with the pure decency of the character of Antonio, who gives up everything simply to serve Sebastian; bewildered by his master’s apparent denials, he is left with the bitter realisation that his generosity has been cruelly abused. And even Malvolio has feelings; he may be a puritanical killjoy, but the revenge that’s meted out on him by Olivia’s household crosses the boundary from playful teasing to outright cruelty. It’s the moment when Shakespeare becomes such a great comic writer that he bears comparison with Ayckbourn. (see end)

OliviaAnother stand-out aspect of the production is its sheer honesty and credibility. There’s not one caricature nor over-the-top characterisation; every member of the cast delivers a truly believable performance, and every situation the production presents us is recognisable and makes complete sense, despite often appearing side-by-side with something theatrically magical. Some small examples: the priest is definitely the kind of person who would drink from an I Heart Jesus mug. This particular Olivia, when trying to impress Cesario on their first meeting, would definitely castigate themselves afterwards for their idiotic use of language – What is your parentage? What was I thinking!!  Orsino’s court appears to be 100% staffed by gay men who dance together – it isn’t questioned, nor does it have to be. It just is. And it helps make sense of his initial attraction to Cesario.

FesteAnd it is genuinely thrilling to see the character of Feste, so often an awkward character to get right, brought to the fore as arguably the most central character of the entire play. He blends perfectly with all the technical aspects of the production, outlandishly dressed in one of James Cotterill’s more ridiculous costumes, magically appearing from the sky, and either manipulating or being manipulated by Zoe Spurr’s fantastic lighting design and George Dennis’ sound design. He sings Matt Maltese’s musical settings of those difficult Shakespearean songs with such genuine emotion that you want to listen to them carefully rather than – as with most Shakespearean songs – just looking forward to the moment they stop and the play can carry on.

Organ PipesAnd I haven’t mentioned the set; dominated, for the most part, by an enormous organ, with pipes so big you can hide behind, magically controlled by Feste seemingly bringing it forward and back with the power of his own summoning arms. It also provides the perfect joke when Orsino and his men arrive at Olivia’s house bearing the gift of an organ; their shock at the size of the one already installed requires their measly offering to be shunted unceremoniously offstage in embarrassment. You’ve never seen Organ Envy like it.

MalvolioGwyneth Keyworth gives us a very earnest and no-nonsense Viola, holding her own with the likes of the Duke and Olivia, convincingly portraying both a girlish boy and a boyish girl that neither can resist. Freema Ageyman has a tremendous stage presence and her Olivia is a dream of a performance, conveying all the anger and frustration of her initial state of mourning, but quickly becoming foolishly besotted in love, whilst retaining her absolute authority over her wayward household.

Sir TobyBally Gill adds another superb portrayal to his growing list of Shakespearean successes, with a very human Duke Orsino, his measured superiority tempered by a hint of fallibility and foolishness. Joplin Sibtain’s Sir Toby is the very credible drunk uncle we all recognise from family weddings; not simply a fat fool but a mischief maker who doesn’t know when to stop until it’s too late. Demetri Goritsas portrays his companion Sir Andrew not as a vacuous fop but as an easily fooled wannabe hero who lacks any of the required depth or courage to achieve his ambitions.

CastDanielle Henry is a splendidly meddlesome Maria, delighting in taking charge of the below-stairs subterfuge; Norman Bowman plays Antonio as an altruistic soul who needs someone to follow, and Rhys Rusbatch’s Sebastian is the perfect recipient for his affection – a plain-talking, fearless type who’s more than capable of looking after himself in a fight and can’t believe his luck when Olivia mistakes him for Cesario.

FesteMichael Grady-Hall brings all his amazing clowning skills to a fantastic physically comic performance as Feste, with split-second precise timing, a wonderful rapport with the audience, and a broodingly haunting singing voice. By contrast, Samuel West invests Malvolio with a fittingly wheedling, whiny voice; a quietly judgmental nuisance who casts a shadow over any good mood until he falls for Maria and Sir Toby’s deception, which allows his true self to burst forth with a mixture of lasciviousness and misplaced self-confidence. Like all the best Malvolios, when he is humiliated and destroyed at the end, you truly feel sorry for him and have nothing but contempt for his tricksters. It’s a magnificent and memorable performance.

MalvolioThe show lasts a few minutes short of three hours but it’s so enjoyable and entrancing that it barely feels like two. One of those longed-for productions where every single aspect dovetails perfectly, creating a hugely rewarding experience. One of the best RSC productions in years, make sure you see it at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre before it closes on 18th January 2025.

P. S. Only one aspect of the production befuddled me – what was all that stuff about painting the sides of the set? First Fabian, then Feste? Answers on a postcard please, to Outrageous Directorial Decisions, PO Box 99, Illyria.

P. P. S. I love the work of Alan Ayckbourn, but you do realise that was tongue-in-cheek, don’t you?

Production photos by Helen Murray

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – My Fair Lady, Curve Theatre, Leicester, 4th December 2024

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Artistic Director of the Curve Theatre, Nikolai Foster, has assembled a tremendous cast and team to present this year’s Curve Christmas show, that perennial favourite, My Fair Lady. Mr Foster has the ability to take a much-loved show and breathe fresh life into it, whether it needs it or not. His touring production of Grease was one of the highlights of this year, ironing out all the excesses that have become attached to it since it first appeared in the 70s by going back to the original. His hugely successful production of A Chorus Line from 2021, revived this summer, brought Zach the choreographer closer to the action and created a masterpiece of a finale; but also had the immensely annoying (and anachronistic) hand-held camera which destroyed the visual effect of many of the routines. So what will Mr Foster do to put his mark on (in my humble opinion) Lerner and Loewe’s finest two-and-a-half hours?

Answer: many things, and some of them work and some of them don’t. This My Fair Lady is presented on a truly grand scale. The Curve stage is a big place at the best of times, but Michael Taylor’s set is off the scale. The front door to Henry Higgins’ Wimpole Street home is located on a curve (no pun intended) round to furthest downstage left so that it’s aligned with row D of the stalls. The entrance to the pub is opposite, furthest downstage right. Higgins’ room has two staircases going up, creating additional acting space on landings way up high; and parts in the middle to open up and reveal further space way, way upstage. This production is nothing if not big.

However, some of this defies any environmental logic. For example, hopelessly in love Freddy waits outside the front door to catch a glimpse of Eliza whenever she leaves the house – but when she goes off to the ball with Higgins and Pickering she leaves through the upstage part of the set – thereby avoiding the front door where we can clearly see Freddy still pining. Surely they didn’t use the tradesmen’s entrance?

And that front door…. Sigh! Every time someone leaves Higgins’ room, there’s a fifteen second pause from when they exit the stage to their going in or out of the front door. That’s a front door with a very noisy slam. The noise creates a disturbance that takes your attention away from whatever is happening on stage. If it’s just a simple conversation, well, you can overlook it. But – for example – Mrs Pearce leaving Eliza to perform the luscious second chorus of I Could Have Danced All Night with a rotten great door slam in the middle of it is simply unforgivable. If you must have that front door, please fix a silent closing mechanism!

In fact, this production is a good example of revealing when less is more, and an over-egged pudding can be detrimental to the overall effect. Not a word of criticism for George Dyer’s splendid band but the music is simply over-orchestrated. Not only is it too loud and drowns out much of the singing, but it’s somehow just too detailed and full-on. An odd criticism of a musical I know, but frankly this production just has too much music. Too many notes, as Salieri says of Mozart in Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus.

This is often emphasised by the performance of David Seadon-Young as Higgins. Mr Seadon-Young is a great singer. Boy, can he whack out a number! He’s about as diametrically opposite of Rex Harrison as you could imagine, who talked his way through all his songs. When I think back of previous Higgins’ that I’ve seen on stage – Tony Britton at the Adelphi, Alex Jennings at Drury Lane – they adopted the largely talking style of performance. Only Dominic West at the sensational Sheffield Crucible production in 2013 did “proper” singing. But David Seadon-Young has musical theatre coursing through his veins and achieves notes and melodies that I never realised lurked beneath the surface of songs like Why Can’t the English or I’m an Ordinary Man. However, it often feels like a battle between him and the orchestra to nail the number rather than them working in tandem. Whilst I’m in the mood for criticism, the Ascot Gavotte is also overdone; Mrs Higgins’ over-the-top companions were pantomime posh and the horses – jockeys on hobby-horse toys – were just plain silly.

But – there are many directorial decisions that work extremely well. Stressing Pickering’s Indian associations, with both his domestic attire and his super-smart society ball costume, works perfectly with Minal Patel’s subtle and entertaining performance. And by characterising him as having a real mancrush on Higgins – perhaps even a little more than that – really makes sense. I’ve never understood in previous productions why Pickering is so attached to Higgins and the elocution process, in which he doesn’t really play an active role. But if he’s besotted with him, then it all falls into place.

There’s no hiding the brutality of the treatment of Eliza – we’ve always known the misogyny is there and that Higgins is a spoilt brat when it comes to his mistreatment of Eliza; but it’s very firmly emphasised in this production, frequently making you feel uncomfortable. It’s superbly presented in You Did It, where Eliza’s elation at her success at the ball progressively diminishes from her expression as Higgins and Pickering celebrate and congratulate each other and all the household staff without ever a word or a glance at her. This younger, super-indulged Higgins comes across as despicable in many ways, which is an interesting challenge for the audience. However, (spoilers, and all that) David Seadon-Young’s excellent characterisation reveals him to be, like all bullies, a pathetic wretch when confronted; and his rendition of I’ve Grown Accustomed to her Face ends with him curled up and bawling his eyes out as he realises that he’s driven away the only person who could ever love him. It’s incredibly moving. It does, nevertheless, make you question exactly why this Eliza, a shrewd, intelligent, confident young woman, decides to take him back. Looking to the future, I can’t see that this relationship is going to last.

Steve Furst is a very enjoyable Alfred P Doolittle, nicely manipulative and full of comedy; his leading the ensemble in With a Little Bit of Luck is certainly a highlight of the show. Djavan van de Fliert is thoroughly convincing as the useless but engaging Freddy, taking full control of the iconic On the Street Where You Live, as well as his silent but excellent physical comedic reactions to Eliza’s rendition of Show Me, for me possibly the most effective staging of any song in the show, perhaps due to its relative simplicity. There’s excellent support from Sarah Moyle as Mrs Pearce and Cathy Tyson as Mrs Higgins, both beacons of sense in a very mad world.

But Molly Lynch as Eliza is undoubtedly the star of the show, with her immaculate singing, precise diction and emotional characterisation. The packed audience were completely engaged in the performance throughout and gave it a very positive reaction; and My Fair Lady will be a welcome Christmas present from the Curve until 4th January 2025.

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

The Points of View Challenge – The Stone Boy – Gina Berriault

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Gina Berriault (1926 – 1999)

American novelist and short story writer, best known for her novels and The Stone Boy.

The Stone Boy was written in 1957, was adapted as a television play in 1960, then published in the collection The Mistress and Other Short Stories in 1965, and then in her 1996 collection Women in their Beds. Berriault also adapted the story into a screenplay for a film of the same name in 1984.

Available to read online here.

This is the fourth of eight stories in the volume Points of View to be given the style classification by Moffett and McElheny of Biography, or Anonymous Narration – Single Character Point of View. Their introduction continues: “The reader sees the world as that chosen person sees it, but he also understands it as the author does, for the hidden narrator is paraphrasing what the character thinks as well as commenting directly.”

Spoiler alert – if you haven’t read the story yet and want to before you read the summary of it below, stop now!

 

The Stone Boy

Nine year old Arnold Curwing wakes up in the farmhouse bedroom he shares with his fifteen year old brother Eugie. They’re going out to pick peas before breakfast. With any luck, they’ll shoot some ducks too, even though it’s out of season. When they go out, he takes his .22 Winchester rifle with him. They make their way through the wheat field down to the lake where the ducks live. There’s a wire fence that they have to crawl through, so Eugie pulls the centre wire down so they can go into the pasture. Arnold is halfway through the fence when his rifle catches on the wire. He tugs at it to free it, and a shot rings out. He expects Eugie to deride his stupidity, but Eugie is silent, having fallen forward onto the earth. Blood emerges from the neck of his motionless, dead brother.

All Arnold can do is continue with the plan to collect peas, and he half fills the tin washtub they brought with them. When he arrives home, he knows he’ll have to explain why Eugie isn’t with him. ““Eugie’s dead,” he told them.” His parents and sister Nora go out to investigate whilst Arnold sneaks off to hide in the hayloft. He can hear the shrieks of grief, the car driving off in a hurry, and his father’s return along with his Uncle Andy and Aunt Alice.

Arnold is driven to the sheriff’s office in Corinth, where they ask him about what happened. He answers their questions calmly, emotionlessly and straightforwardly. Whilst they understand that it was an accident, they can’t understand why he didn’t immediately run back to his parents to tell them. “”I come down to pick peas,” he said. “Didn’t you think, asked the sheriff, stepping carefully from word to word, “that is was more important for you to go tell your parents what had happened?” “The sun was gonna come up,” Arnold said. “What’s that got to do with it?” “It’s better to pick peas while they’re cool.””

Arnold and his family are allowed to return home. After work, the neighbours arrive, recounting memories of Eugie, quizzically wondering about Arnold and his reaction to what happened. But Arnold stays silent, and assumes that he must be a bad person because, clearly, everyone else thinks he is a bad person. Later on he tries to open up to his mother but she, in her grief, rejects him. The next morning, however, she asks him if he had tried to speak to her the previous night. ““What’d you want?” she asked humbly. “I didn’t want nothing,” he said flatly. Then he went out the door and down the back steps, his legs trembling from the fright his answer gave him.””

Beautifully under-written by Berriault, she quietly tells us about this grim event in a colourless, hard-working environment. The power of this work is in the contrast between the devastating events of the story and the emotionless reaction of Arnold and, indeed, the matter-of-fact manner of the narration. Understanding Arnold’s character is key to appreciating the story as a whole. When we first meet him, he is taking one of the few opportunities he has of asserting himself over the superiority of his big brother; by waking up first, and shaking Eugie from his sleep, he is in command of the early morning situation.

As soon as Eugie takes control of his own day, Arnold must return to taking a back seat. “Eugie passed his left hand through his hair before he set his cap down with his right. The very way he slipped his cap on was an announcement of his status […] Arnold never tired of watching Eugie offer silent praise unto himself. He wondered, as he sat enthralled, if when he got to be Eugie’s age he would still be undersized and his hair still straight.” The only superiority Arnold can muster over Eugie is possession of his rifle. It was old, and no one else used it or wanted it anymore. Yet, at the age of nine, Arnold is fully competent to load the gun with cartridges, and he has the power to kill ducks as he wishes.

With his stultifyingly logical mind and willingness to answer the exact question he is given, rather than see through a question to understand the motivation behind it, today we would probably venture Arnold to be neurodivergent. A good example of this is when the sheriff asks Arnold if he and Eugie were “good friends”. He’s trying to identify if there could be any rift or disagreements between the two brothers. But Arnold can’t answer that because of course they weren’t friends, they were brothers. They’re different things. He can’t intuit what the sheriff is getting at.

At the time of writing, there was no such concept as “neurodivergence”. At the end of his short interview with Arnold, the sheriff tells his father and Andy “he’s either a moron or he’s so reasonable that he’s way ahead of us […] the most reasonable guys are mean ones. They don’t feel nothing.” Clearly, it’s the sheriff’s view that Arnold will return to his attention in a few years’ time; he expects him to continue a life of crime. That’s not Arnold’s view of his own life at all; but he is shocked at himself when he can’t bring himself to open up about his brother’s death.

A fascinating and disturbing read, not only illustrating how a simple incident can accidentally bring catastrophic results, but also showing how shock can compound an inability to communicate.

The next story in the anthology is the fifth to be classified by Moffett and McElheny as Biography, or Anonymous Narration – Single Character Point of View, Enemies by Anton Chekhov.

The Paul Berna Challenge – The Secret of the Missing Boat (1966)

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In which Berna takes us to a quiet corner of Britanny, near Vannes, and introduces us to intrepid young sailor Fanch and his friend Lise. Fanch is inseparable from his little fishing boat, the Petit-Emile, which he has recently upgraded with a sail, a mast and a larger hull all gathered from jetsam and with the agreement of the Receiver of Wreck, Monsieur Riou, in Langle. But the authorities seem much more interested in the Petit-Emile than one might expect – what secret does the little boat have that demands so much of their attention?

Unusually, The Secret of the Missing Boat was first published in 1966 in English by The Bodley Head, and then in French in 1969 by G. P. Rouge et Or under its original French title L’Épave de la Bérénice, which translates literally as The Wreck of the Berenice, with illustrations by Barry Wilkinson, who had also illustrated The Mystery of the Cross-Eyed Man and Gaby and the New Money Fraud. The Secret of the Missing Boat was translated, as usual, by John Buchanan-Brown. My own copy of the book is a 1972 reprint of the Puffin edition. There are a few copies currently on sale online if you want to buy one!

Berna’s Parisian cityscape that dominated his last few books is here replaced by a maritime environment, an island-dotted bay in Brittany, where boats replace cars and old rural methods haven’t been replaced by modern development.  Where, in the past, he has given us a map of Puisay, here he provides a map of the coast and all the islands. It’s fun to make a comparison with a real map of the area as it’s largely faithful and accurate, which helps the reader to become more closely associated with the district; all apart from the inclusion of Ile-Goulvan, Ile-Hervé, Cow Island and La Teigne, and some playing with the area around the Seven Marshes.

Berna has left his usual descriptions of gangs behind, in favour for concentrating on his two main children characters, both of whom lead remote, solitary lives. Fanch and Lise’s competence in criss-crossing between islands on all sorts of simple boats lends an air of adventure and excitement, mixed with a sense of idyllic, quiet, leisurely childhood. But there’s nothing leisurely about their lives; they work all hours, frequently heavy, physical labour, often getting up before dawn and going to bed early, exhausted. They’re children, but with adult responsibilities. In a typically male oriented world, Fanch makes sure he neverthless has as much fun as possible; Lise is given the role of being sensible and responsible. So whilst Fanch and Cogan go off to have an adventure on the restored dinghy, for example, Lise makes do with basic seaman skills, such as untangling the lines and drying out the old vessel.

There’s a strong contrast between the two younger characters and everyone else in the story. Fanch and Lise are the only two children, and the adults in their lives all represent various levels of discipline, instruction or enforcement. Fanch needs to keep his distance from Blackbeard, his teacher, otherwise he’ll get into trouble for not going to school. He also gets into trouble with the likes of Tanguy and Stephani, and Benny, Pat and Fredo. He loves Mamm and Uncle Job, but they are strong believers in discipline and Mamm completely rules the roost – what she says, goes, and no arguing. Even M. Jégo constantly tells Fanch what he must do, as he works for the Jégo family as well as his own. It’s only when Fanch comes to terms with Blackbeard – M. Cogan – that they can work together and become friends. And there’s a consequent enjoyable relationship with the two adult camping travellers, Manoel and Picou. This is not the first time Berna has used a teacher who is remote or aloof and then brings them into a heroic role – this also happens in Flood Warning.

But it’s not just a one-way relationship between Cogan and the children. By getting involved in the children’s exploits, Cogan rediscovers his own inner child and gets an enormous escapist pleasure from accompanying them on their exploits, and even living temporarily on Ile-Goulvan courtesy of Mamm. In addition to the parallel with Flood Warning, it’s also very reminiscent of the pleasure and value that Commissioner Sinet derives from working alongside the children in the Puisay books.

In the first chapter, Berna fills in some excellent descriptions of his main characters. “Lise was only just twelve. Despite its poverty, life on the islands of the Little Sea was healthy and it had made her tough without repressing the high spirits natural in someone of her age. Although she had a forgiving nature, she was scrupulously honest in matters of right and wrong.” We later discover that she has a very strong association with Fanch: “she needed Fanch’s clumsy devotion as much as the love of her parents. They had played and grown up together, and their companionship made the happiness of their lonely life. Lise did not want to lose him and she dreaded his going as the worst thing that could happen to her.” And she is very concerned that he might get into serious trouble: “if she was to keep him she would have to make him more sensible; she would have to disarm the enemies who threatened his freedom. But, above all, she would have to stop him getting into such serious trouble as would lead to his being sent away for good and all.”

As for Fanch, we quickly discover that he is totally driven by the maritime life and wants nothing else: “While his schoolfellows were racking their brains over the Maths paper, he had been far up the river above Noyalo exploring a forsaken piece of marshland which was only covered once in three years by this particular high tide […] There were few greater excitements for Fanch than these brief glimpses of hidden territory that might be revealed at any hour of the day or night by the capricious movements of the ever-present ocean.” His confidence in the water encourages him to be cheeky with the likes of the Harbour Master; where others especially of Fanch’s age might show him more respect, at first he refuses his demand that he presents himself to him: ““I can hear you quite well from here”, Fanch answered, unabashed […] the quick-tempered Harbour Master snapped, going very red in the face. “You come up here, and be quick about it, or the sergeant will have you up by the ears!” “I shouldn’t count on that,” Fanch said, firmly but politely.”

This is another of Berna’s works where he deals sensitively with the prospect of boys growing up and becoming men, leaving behind their old childhood pursuits. Fanch is never happier than when he’s out on the water, but his teacher M. Cogan makes him think twice about how not having any qualifications will restrict his opportunities once he’s an adult. “Fanch took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the good sea air. He let his gaze wander to the fresh sunlit horizon and the innumerable islands studding the pale blue sea. The thought of giving up his childhood’s paradise brought tears to his eyes. “I know you’re right,” he murmured, “but I don’t want to lose it all.””

Berna is a master of the art of creating a sense of excitement and mystery out of the simplest description. “At high tide, the horizon encircles a calm sea studded with tiny grey or green islets, the antechamber of the wide ocean. But at low water, the ebb slowly reveals a drowned landscape which seems suddenly to rise stark against the sky. A thousand secret paths seem to link the mainland once more with the ruins sunk for ten or twelve centuries in the mud of the tidal channels.” No wonder Fanch loves to go exploring. The book is littered with brief descriptive moments that reinforce the scene so beautifully and powerfully. If I am honest, however, I feel the book is very slightly let down by the nature of its ending. The treasure they find is extraordinary and unique, but I really feel it stretches the imagination of the reader beyond what is a reasonable outcome. But you might feel differently!

Here’s my chapter by chapter synopsis of the book. If you haven’t read the book yet and don’t want to see any spoilers, here’s where you have to stop reading!

 

Chapter One – The Petit-Emile. Fanch navigates his little boat, the Petit-Emile, through narrow waterways towards the village of Locmariaquer, accompanied by his friend Lise and an eel that they have caught. Fanch wants to make sure that he doesn’t run into Monsieur Cogan, the school master, also nicknamed Blackbeard. Fanch has never taken school seriously, much preferring to venture out on the waters discovering hidden nooks and crannies along the coast.

While he is waiting for Lise to return from her Aunt Annick’s, the Harbour Master Monsieur Tanguy, the Customs Officer Stephani, and two other gentlemen call to him to answer a few questions. Tanguy wants to know where his new sail and mast came from – and Fanch tells him he took some jetsam and made them from it; with the approval of Monsieur Riou, the Receiver of Wreck. And what about his new hull? That was from an abandoned boat that only emerged at a recent bore-tide. Fanch towed it to show M. Riou, who confirmed there were no boats reported missing, so allowed him to take it, at least on a temporary basis. But Tanguy is not satisfied and warns Fanch that he may have to return it to its rightful owner.

Fanch takes Lise back to her home on Ile-Hervé, and then on to his own home on Ile-Goulvan. He lives with his foster mother, Madame Guidic (Mamm) and her brother Uncle Job; and he discovers that a lodger has moved in from Paris for a short while – Monsieur Cosquer, who insists that Fanch calls him Benny. Fanch instinctively distrusts him, as Benny tries to find out more about the family he is staying with. The lodger tries to smooth the waters by offering to crew for Fanch the next time he goes out.

Chapter Two – The Seven Marshes. Benny gets up early and, from his bedroom window, watches Fanch herding fifteen Friesians towards fresh pasture. Quickly getting dressed, he goes outside and finds the Petit-Emile by the beach; whilst Fanch is away he takes the opportunity to have a good look around it. But Fanch catches him and starts to get annoyed at his persistent questions. Benny requests a trip on the boat but Fanch refuses, saying he has to help the Jégos on Ile-Hervé with their oyster-parks. Later, Fanch and Lise discuss how to handle Benny and his curiosity; she suggests he takes advantage of the good tide tomorrow to take him wherever he wants.

The next day they go out in the boat together. Benny says he doesn’t mind where Fanch takes him, but Fanch knows he wants to go back to the spot where he found the hull, the Seven Marshes. It’s foggy, and Benny can’t recognise where he is, but Fanch is such a good sailor that he has no problem navigating even under difficult weather conditions. Fanch, however, gets fed up with Benny’s constant criticism and hands over the controls of the boat. Fanch confronts him with the suggestion that this isn’t the first time he’s been on board this boat, and they get into an argument. Eventually Benny reveals that he is on a search for treasure, but he will give no further details which makes it hard for Fanch to help. But they agree to return to the Seven Marshes later that evening.

Chapter Three – The Voyage of the Waikiki. Lise keeps a watch-out towards Ile-Goulvan, expecting to see Fanch in the Petit-Emile. But her mother tells her that Job let her know that Fanch and the lodger went off very early that morning. She still expects him back later to help with their work. Lise reflects on how much she relies on Fanch for companionship and is concerned that it might not last: “Fanch is heading for trouble even though he won’t admit it.”

There’s an unexpected arrival on the Ile-Hervé in the form of the Waikiki, a blue and white American launch with two burly men aboard, Pat and Fredo, and a lot of fishing tackle. They’re friendly to Lise, they ask about the island, and tell her they’re looking for someone who is lodging somewhere in the area. Lise senses there’s something wrong but decides to mention that there is someone, staying on the Ile-Goulvan. The men go off in pursuit in a hurry, whilst Mme Jégo asks Lise to take the punt to Ile-Goulvan to return baskets and collect milk and vegetables. When she arrives, the Waikiki is already moored up.

When Pat and Fredo land, they try to run up to the house silently, but Mamm sees them and demands to know what they want. They say they are looking for their old friend Benny Cosquer, whom Pat accidentally describes as a “rat”. Mamm suggests they return the next morning, when she will have had time to arrange lunch for them. But the men are too quick for her and insist on looking through Cosquer’s luggage, as he has “something of ours”. They ransack his room; and Mamm, furious, tells them “Fanch’ll make you pay for all this”. They tie her up, much to her surprise amusement; because then Uncle Job appears with his shotgun and demands they lie flat down until Cosquer returns. Lise appears and releases Mamm, apologising for having sent the men over to her island. Mamm decides that Benny Cosquer is a trouble-maker and will be leaving the island that evening with his “friends”.

Meanwhile Fanch and Benny are still squabbling on the Petit-Emile, but when Benny notices the launch moored up on Ile-Goulvan, he asks Fanch to bring the boat in at a quiet hidden location. However, the secrecy is in vain, for Job sees them and quickly shouts out that the three of them should leave the island immediately. Benny makes a dash for it, and “there was quite a scuffle in the tamarisks before the pair finally caught him”. “The three hundred francs for his board and lodging are in an envelope. The old lady won’t touch stolen money… Now get out of it quick, and don’t you ever come back to the Ile-Goulvan!”

But Fanch has unresolved business, and running towards the men, hits both Pat and Fredo with an oar until they both fall face down in the mud. Benny finds this hilarious. “The punishment he had inflicted on the thugs seemed paltry. Mamm Guidic had given him a home; she had tended him in sickness; she had recused him from the horrors of the orphanage, and her person was sacred.” When Fanch tells her why the men were interested in the Petit-Emile, Mamm insists ““then you’ll strip her right away and sink her in the channel,” she said coldly. “The flood tide tonight may make a present of her to some other fool. I’m not having any more of this nonsense here.””

Chapter Four – The Castaway on La Teigne. Lise and Fanch go through the sad process of stripping everything out of the Petit-Emile, during which Fanch finds Benny’s map that the latter had tucked away at the bottom of the boat. Lise suggests scuttling the map along with the rest of the boat. Fanch is keen to make the Petit-Emile as light as possible so that it travels far and quickly. Removing the bung, Fanch waits until the water is up to his knees before walking off and on to Lise’s punt alongside. Once the boat is sunk, he finds Benny’s map still soggy in his back pocket. They look at it – they don’t recognise what it shows, which is some red markings around a coastline. In the end Lise suggests that they should keep it: “you never know, someone a bit more honest than Benny and a bit sharper than we are might find it handy one day.”

Later that day an exhausted Fanch returns home, but not before M. Jégo asks him why he got up so early. Fanch is desperate to go exploring and he feels lost without his boat; but Jégo reminds him he will get his old boat back very soon. Uncle Job warns him the next day will be busy with produce and they will need to be at Sarzeau market early. Nevertheless, Fanch wakes in the middle of the night, and attracted by the moonlight, walks along the cliff edge. In the distance he could hear a cry; “two miles, or even less, from the Ile-Goulvan, someone was in trouble.”

On the isolated island of La Teigne, Benny had been crying out for hours, trying to attract attention of people ashore. Fanch takes a punt and starts heading towards his voice. “The boy could hardly recognize his fellow-sailor of the morning. Benny’s clothes were torn and the blood which caked his bruised and swollen face made it look almost black in the moonlight.” Pat and Fredo had taken Benny back to the Seven Marshes but were unable to find anything, so they beat him up and left him on La Teigne to fend for himself. They were looking for his map – they found one, but Benny says it won’t get them very far. Fanch vows to help him but, because of Mamm, returning to Ile-Goulvan is not an option. Fanch suggests landing on Cow Island, where there will be shelter, and Fanch will come and leave him food whenever possible. Fanch tells Benny that they scuttled the Petit-Emile and he is furious.

Fanch returns home and starts work. They load up the punt, then head for Cow Island to do the milking. Benny has washed and was having a relaxing cigarette, as though he were living in the lap of luxury. He gives Fanch three hundred francs and asks him to buy him some clothes; Fanch suggests going over to Saint Arzhel to collect his old boat, the original Petit-Emile. The next day he bumps into the parish priest, who promises not to tell the schoolteacher that they had met.

Chapter Five – The Wreck of the Berenice.  Fredo and Pat have been observing the comings and goings on Ile-Goulvan and Cow Island from their vantage point near the Hotel Armoric. They think Fanch’s black boat is like the one they had seen previously on the River Noyalo. Pat favours keeping a close watch on him, whereas Fredo suggests they force him into working for them by means of physical violence. They approach him, but Fanch isn’t impressed. “You’re a couple of thugs!” he shouts as he outpaces them, running to the crest of the dune.

However, Fanch gets a nasty surprise as he runs straight into the arms of M. Cogan, aka Blackbeard, the schoolmaster. Cogan admits he was only there to keep an eye on the two suspicious men, but now that he has caught Fanch he won’t let go. “There’s a nice little room with bars across the windows waiting for you back at the school. You’ve all summer in front of you to swot up for the entrance exam to the High School at Lorient”. Despite Fanch’s protests, Cogan persists, and Fanch is sincerely touched by the teacher’s belief in him. “It’s time you started to grow up and make your plans for the time when you’ll be a man. You’ve got to break out of this little world of yours because the older you grow the more cramping you’re going to find it. Mamm Guidic knows this perfectly well and she knows she only holds you now by a thread […] do you think I’d go to all this trouble over someone I didn’t think worth it?” Fanch knows he’s right; and the sadness of the situation is of no comfort to either of them. However, Fanch invites Cogan to help him rig up the Petit-Emile, a chance for the two characters to come together in the same cause. Cogan suggests a compromise which allows Fanch to do some studying in his spare time. But Fanch tells him his spare time is taken up with jobs on the farm as well as dealing with the two suspicious men. Cogan is eager to hear about what’s been going on. He tells Fanch how treasure can mean more than one thing to different people: “the most ordinary little pebble can turn out to be a treasure for someone who knows what he’s looking for.” He suggests Fanch does some excavating with a pickaxe on Ile-Goulvan: “these islands were once the tops of hills and nearly all of them have one or two megaliths on them.”

Cogan suggests they try to interview Benny but Fanch thinks it would be a waste of time. His idea is to speak to M. Tanguy but he’s uncomfortable about doing it on his own. Cogan, however, isn’t “scared of the old boy. If he does know anything, he won’t refuse to pass it on to me.” They set off, and when Tanguy spies him in the distance, he and Stephani place a bet as to whether he’ll make it there safely in that little dinghy. When he realises Fanch is accompanied by Cogan, he’s delighted that the schoolmaster has finally caught up with him. However, his mood swings when Fanch tells him he scuttled the other boat. Cogan quizzes Tanguy on whether they’ve had any mysterious enquiries about a lost or hidden boat, and both Tanguy and Stephani explain they’ve had several.

Tanguy tells them of the Berenice, a twelve-ton cabin cruiser that was stolen some time earlier. It seems to have gone completely missing. Tanguy suspects it’s part of a wider criminal activity. He suggests sending a dredger over to Ile-Goulvan and getting Fanch to sift the sand for traces of the Berenice. In the first instance, Fanch and Cogan arrange to meet at Kerivau, and then they’ll sail to Cow Island to catch up with Benny.

Chapter Six – Robbery on the Island.  Passing Ile-Hervé, Fanch sees Lise on the shoreline. She tells him that Pat and Fredo had found Benny on Cow Island and abducted him. This is a blow to Fanch, although Cogan reminds him that they’re bound to lead them to the Berenice. Lise reminds Fanch he has the map; but he’s left it behind on Ile-Goulvan. Cogan realises that Fanch didn’t find the map much use because he couldn’t read it. Fanch suggests that Cogan takes a room at the farm for a few days. Lise will be there too.

Mamm is honoured to have Cogan come to stay. They’re eager to read the map – it shows one continuous coastline, and some writing on it: “S. E. Grey church tower beyond cross-shaped tree. N. E. Red and white pylon slightly to right of parrot’s beak”. Cogan assumes the parrot’s beak must be a rock, and that the red and white pylon must belong to an electricity grid line. There’s a landmark marked K, which Fanch identifies as the old brick works at Kerguenen: “you can only see that landmark five months of the year […] by the end of May they’re completely hidden by the trees.” They continue to pore over the map with various theories. It’s Lise who recognises the shape of the horn on a map on the wall in the farmhouse.

During the night, the sound of a motorboat engine wakes Fanch and Cogan. Uncle Job has already gone out to investigate, and he reports that three men were in the boat going past at first, and that there’s only one coming on the way back. Cogan assumes that the other two have landed already, and the third will probably join them; they are concerned for Mamm and Lise’s safety, sleeping alone in the house. They take up different positions to keep watch; but Fanch is so angry that he can’t stay still, and when Pat comes along towards the house, Fanch sticks out his foot so that he comes crashing to the ground. But the villains out-trick the heroes, and it’s not long before Benny, Pat and Fredo are in the house. They snatch the map off the wall, the glass smashes and they tear off a part of it. But then Mamm appears, armed with a broom, which she wields like a lethal weapon, sending it crack across Benny’s face. The men escape, but it’s Lise who has the last laugh – the men won’t get far as she has poured two pounds of sugar into the petrol tank of their boat.

Chapter Seven – Grey Church Tower beyond Cross-Shaped Tree. Fanch, Lise and Blackbeard head off to the Seven Marshes. They don’t have Benny’s map but Fanch can remember its clues perfectly, and he has his own methods of navigation. He tells Cogan that his motivation for all this is to be the first to find the hull of the Berenice and open the cabin door. When he asks Lise the same question, she replies, “I’m not looking for anything […] All I want to do is share something nice with Fanch.”

But there’s another problem. A man in a motorboat checks them out and calls out “You’re not to go any farther!” He insists they change course and tie up at Le Passage. Blackbeard shouts back, refusing to obey and the man gets hysterical: “you’re one of the three crooks who wrecked my best boat on the Mare’s Nose!” Cogan identifies himself to the owner of the Waikiki who calms down. It was obviously Lise’s sugar treatment that has upset him! However, he later accuses Manoel and Picou, two campers in a canoe, of the same thing. Cogan defends them and then invites them to join their adventure.

The two boats proceed as far as the Petit-Emile will go. Blackbeard goes with Manoel and Picou along the channel. Lise and Fanch moor the Petit-Emile and continue on foot. Fanch is convinced the “grey church tower” is the one at Kérandré. They meet up with the others – they can see that Cogan has obviously noticed something. Lise discovers the cross-shaped tree, so they’re on the right track. And then – Fanch finds the Berenice! It’s a sorrowful sight, all caked in mud. Fanch makes the first move and pushes the cabin door open. And there sits Benny. He reveals that he is an insurance inspector, and that Pat and Fredo are in a police van taking them to Paris. And then Benny reveals the whole tale. The treasure he has been seeking is the theft of the Head of Gilgamesh from an archaeological dig in Iran, which has been passed from dealer to dealer and amassed a huge value. But it’s not in the Berenice – presumed to be at the bottom of the sea.

Chapter Eight – The Golden Eyes of Gilgamesh. Sometime later,  Benny and two men arrive on Ile-Goulvan. Mamm is not welcoming, but Benny says they need to see Fanch – and she tells them that he has something for them too – the clothes that Benny had asked Fanch to buy for him all that time back. Benny advises him that the search for Gilgamesh is still not over, if he would like to come up to the wreck of the Berenice, but Fanch refuses. Blackbeard is still a resident; the experience of the past few weeks has made them all nervous. Mamm, however, allows Manoel and Picou to visit, camping out on the island and enjoying the occasional meal in the big kitchen. One day they report that the Seven Marshes is a hive of activity: “the place is alive with treasure-hunters in dungarees and frogmen’s outfits, Some of them are up to their waists in mud dragging with grapnels.”

Cogan and Fanch drive Mamm’s Friesians back from Cow Island. M. Jégo meets them, saying he has something exciting to show them. So they jump aboard – together with Lise who was already there – and head off towards the wreck of the Petit-Emile II, which had reappeared despite being scuttled. Mamm agrees that Fanch can keep her, “but take good care that it doesn’t bring the police and the burglars and all that crowd of nasty people who don’t belong here. Otherwise I’ll get cross.”

Cogan and Fanch set off on the new dinghy, leaving Lise to disentangle the hand-lines and coil them on the old boat. Her work done, she pauses to relax and observe the waves and reflections. Then – a shock of recognition! ““Gilgamesh,” she said in a choked voice. “He’s here, right under the bows.”” Fanch says she’s imagining things, but then he admits “there was a concrete mooring-block in the bottom of the dinghy when I hauled her out of the mud […] it was a good weight, and I used it to double the anchor block of our mooring-buoy”. With all their strength and might they heave up the mooring-buoy; and “up came Gilgamesh, the water streaming off him as he half emerged from the blackish matrix which the slow steady action of the waves had partially worn away.”

Mamm won’t have it in the house, and insists they take it to Locmariaquer at once. Benny, Tanguy and his team are not impressed that Fanch has returned yet again. But without a sound they deposit the head on the desk and remove its covering. Words fail everyone! It’s agreed that Fanch can keep the dinghy, but Lise is disappointed to have given up Gilgamesh so quickly. Cogan makes Fanch confess when he actually found the head; but Fanch does not feel guilty because he had kept a promise to Lise. “Ever since we were children, […] Lise’s always asked me to find her a treasure. I only kept quiet about this one, to give her the joy of finding it herself.”

To sum up; As always, Berna writes credible and powerful characters, facing a variety of challenges, which all turn out for the best. The reader might well identify with Fanch, its hero; Lise takes a more subservient, dismissive role and perhaps isn’t someone with whom many young readers might want to identify. But the book tells a moral tale and clearly delineates between good and bad behaviour without ever coming across as prissy or goody-goody. That’s the last we see of Fanch, Lise and the maritime life of Brittany, and if you’ve read the book – or are re-reading it now, I’d love to know what you think about it, so please add a comment below. Next up in the Paul Berna Challenge is a very different change of style and tone, Un Pays sans légende, translated into English as They Didn’t Come Back. I look forward to re-reading it and sharing my thoughts about it in a few weeks.

Review – Screaming Blue Murder, Lola’s Bar at the Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 17th November 2024

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The only constant is change, they say, and nowhere is that more obvious than in the various transformations our local treasure Screaming Blue Murder has undergone in the last few months. Now in the comfortable and atmospheric setting of Lola’s Bar, adjacent to the Royal and Derngate theatre, it’s an intimate location with top quality drinks (always helps) and a small stage area decked out like Beverley’s living room in Abigail’s Party.

However, one thing that is as constant as the northern star, and that’s the presence of Dan Evans as MC for the evening. Warmly welcoming and irrepressibly cheeky in equal measure, Dan wasted no time in digging deep into the lives and loves of John the psychotherapist from Brixworth and Dylan and Emma still in the first flushes of romance. Where would we be without him?

Our first act, and someone we always look forward to seeing, was Mary Bourke, one of the surest hands in comedy, with her blistering, sometimes dangerous, often withering delivery of her cracking observations. Hers is an act honed to perfection; what might seem to be a throwaway line is in fact an exquisitely crafted and carefully chosen selection of words designed to have the maximum impact. Among her finest material on Sunday were memories of a book festival with Liz Truss (ouch), dealing with incels and how a renowned American comic came to grief in Glasgow (it can happen). Always expect the unexpected with Mary Bourke; a terrific start to the show.

After the interval, Dan welcomed James Cook, whom we’ve seen just once before, down the end of a Zoom screen on those dark days of distanced comedy during Covid lockdown. An engaging, jolly personality, he delivers his material with warmth and confidence; and although many of his topics are perhaps rather familiar – such as being the parents of small children – his observations and fresh and original and makes you see those familiar things from a new perspective. I loved (and was indeed rather shocked) at his material about the seismic change that has affected the world of pass-the-parcel, and his home-made method of returning to the good old days of porn (that sounds iffier than it is, honest). He sets up an excellent rapport with the crowd and his set finished all too soon.

There’s one more Screaming Blue Murder this year – in December – which is currently scheduled to take place back in Screen 2 of the cinema, but hopefully the powers that be will see the wisdom of returning to Lola’s Bar for a genuine Northampton Fringe experience. And then – in 2025 – it’s back to the Royal and hopefully, the freshly reinvigorated (and hopefully now safe from RAAC) Underground space where SBM has always thrived. Can’t wait!

Review – The Red Shoes, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 14th November 2024

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The 1948 film of The Red Shoes received mixed reviews at first, but over the years has acquired something of a cult status and a 2017 poll for Time Out magazine ranked it the fifth best British film ever. It is said to have inspired a generation of girls to become dancers, no doubt in part due to its extensive ballet sequences. However, am I alone in not realising that originally it was an 1845 cautionary fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen? And that it’s chock-full of those gruesome elements you associate with Andersen or the Brothers Grimm?

Dinner partyNancy Harris’ reimagined Red Shoes transforms Andersen’s originally vain Karen into almost the opposite. So mortified is she by the loss of her mother, that she is mute with shock when first brought into the repugnant, wealthy Nugent household, dominated by the callous and self-serving Mariella. Kindlier, but distinctly under the thumb, is her husband Bob; their out-of-control son Clive, who is possessed with a desire to kill living animals and chop off body parts, spends most of his time harassing the poor girl. Only Mags, the housekeeper, expresses concern for Karen’s welfare.

KarenKaren’s weakness is that she is easily tempted. First, by the shoemaker Sylvestor, who offers her a pair of irresistible red shoes that cause her to dance with neither inhibition nor control. And when a dinner party turns into disaster because Karen’s shoes run rampage through the china and cutlery, Mariella condemns her to a life as a kitchen maid and providing care to poor Mags who has suffered a heart attack as a result of the shock of what Craig Revel Horwood might call a Dance Disaster. Today we’d see it as very bad parenting.

Mariella and MagsKaren is tempted again to go to a ball whilst she should be looking after the ailing Mags, where she meets Prince who encourages her to stay out late dancing. Result: the old lady dies and it’s all Karen’s fault. The cautionary aspects of the original tale are clearly pushed to the forefront, with Karen feeling the full force of retribution for her selfishness. However, for me, the deliberate weaving of Karen’s story with the Cinderella tale – kitchen maid, ball, Prince, missing shoe – means that neither side is fully explored.

KarenOverall, the whole vision for the play feels a little messy. For example, we seem to be partly in a Victorian era, when you could take in an orphan to your household without any paperwork, and there is an orphans’ committee that the snobbish Mariella wants to impress; and yet Bob Nugent is making business deals on his mobile. The play is accompanied by a full score performed by Tom Slade’s superb team of seven musicians, but it’s not a musical as such, and sometimes the music almost overwhelms what’s happening on stage. Given the shoes are magical, there are a few “magic” moments in the show – although I would have hoped for a little more; however, I can report that Ryan Day’s lighting design is excellent, with the auditorium being bathed in red light at the beginning and providing some impressive eerie effects, and Colin Richmond’s set features a grand mirror of positive affirmation and a splendidly sanctimonious family portrait. And there is some delightfully outrageous footwear.

SylvestorNikki Cheung uses her skills to give us a Karen who is most at ease when giving in to the compulsion to dance, one of the highlights of the production. Dianne Pilkington’s monstrous Mariella is a marvellous comedy hypocrite, moaning about how slapping an orphan isn’t a great look in front of the chair of the Orphans’ committee, and accounting for the antisocial (not to mention illegal) behaviour of her dreadful son by virtue of his being artistic. Sebastien Torkia portrays Sylvestor as eerie and sinister, a Master Magician strangely controlling Karen’s destiny; and there’s a delightful burst of sanity from Sakuntala Ramanee as Mags, the only truly decent person in the story.

Dance Disaster DarlingI found this a strangely cold and unmoving production. I felt no connection with any of the characters – not even Karen; in fact some of them repelled me so much that I couldn’t even see their “funny side”. There are a few great lines, and a couple of lively scenes – but even so, although the chaotic dinner party in Act One is superbly choreographed as a piece of slapstick entertainment, the execution of it wasn’t as crisp as it required. The show doesn’t feel very “Christmassy”, and there’s scarcely a resemblance to the famous film. It’s quite successful as a modern re-telling of a cautionary tale with all its mental and physical cruelty, but as family entertainment there’s a lot of content that I found disturbing, let alone how a young child might react. Despite its obvious qualities and the calibre of its cast, I’m afraid this one didn’t quite do it for me.

Production photos by Manuel Harlan

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – Frankenstein, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 12th November 2024

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Apart from perhaps a glimpse of some of the film when I was a child, I’ve not come any closer into contact with the Frankenstein story than Rocky Horror or Herman Munster. So it was with curiosity more than anything that I anticipated Tilted Wig’s production of Frankenstein, ending its short English tour at the Royal and Derngate this week. However, the briefest glimpse at a synopsis of Mary Shelley’s original is enough for me to realise how respectful and intelligent Sean Aydon’s adaptation is.

Victoria and FrancineSet in 1943, Victoria Frankenstein has abandoned her family to devote herself to scientific research. Her ultimate goal is to create human life from the bones and organs of the dead. She has no concern as to how her creation looks, or feels, or speaks – if indeed it can do any of those things. Her only concern is that it remains a secret; one she shares only with her laboratory assistant Francine. On the night she hopes to create her life, the operation appears to fail – but, unseen by Victoria, the monster does indeed come alive and escapes the laboratory. This leads to a series of events with fatal results for everyone.

The Captain's CabinNicky Bunch’s design gives us two sets. The opening and closing scenes of the play take place in the small, claustrophobic cabin where the “Captain” lives, giving shelter and food to Victoria when she’s starving and homeless. For the main story, the cabin opens up to reveal the laboratory, with tall windows and cabinets full of jars and artifacts, and the bed on which the monster is being created. The costumes are functional and suitably workaday apart from Henry and Francine’s smart going-out outfits and the stylish vivid red of Dr Richter’s dress. Hats off to Imogen Mercer’s make-up for meeting the challenge of creating Frankenstein’s monster; and Marc Watkins and Jason Addison’s lighting design works well, although there were a couple of first night fumbles which everyone politely ignored.

Creature and HenryOverall it’s an excellent production, which tells its story very clearly – helped, I must say, by the immaculate enunciation of all the cast, which was completely delightful. Sean Aydon’s direction enhances the creepy atmosphere and beautifully balances subtlety with the grotesque. I love, for example, how Basienka Blake’s Richter doesn’t have to say a word to convey her contempt and loathing for Francine and Henry, based on pure ideological eugenics.

FrankensteinI’m almost ashamed to admit that I jumped in my seat about four times when there was a sudden noise or movement even though I knew there’d be a sudden noise or movement any minute. As a sucker for convincing stage combat, the scene where (Spoiler alert, sorry) the Creature kills Henry was performed immaculately by both actors, for which they have my absolute admiration.

VictoriaEmily-Jane McNeill has superb stage presence as Dr Frankenstein; ruthlessly intent on carrying out her research whilst also revealing the character’s vulnerable aspects. Andy Cresswell avoids all stereotypes with a remarkably human portrayal of the Creature, neither thug nor fool, genuinely tugging at our heartstrings as he reflects on his frustrations and loneliness. Basienka Blake gives us two excellent characterisations, as the wary, hard-nosed Captain and the elegantly fascist Richter. And there’s superb support from Brianne Surgeoner’s faithful Francine, Tawana Dingembira’s urbane Henry and Lydia Whitehead’s Elizabeth. A very fine production and well worth catching.

Production photos by Robling Photography

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Film Music Gala with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 8th November 2024

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A packed house of all ages was buzzing for the Royal Philharmonic’s return to the Royal and Derngate for one of their Film Music Gala concerts, a uniquely entertaining offering, guaranteed to please young and old – in fact, it is a perfect way of getting young people into the habit of seeing how different it is to hear music performed by a live orchestra rather than just listening through your headphones!

The whole orchestra (as it seemed to me) were there in force, under the baton of conductor Stephen Bell, an avuncular and enthusiastic host who gives us individual introductions to many of the pieces of music performed. The last time we saw Mr Bell conducting the RPO was for their Last Night of the Proms concert back in 2011 – please don’t leave it so long until your next visit! Stephen Bell is one of those very inclusive conductors who makes sure that every element of the orchestra has their moment in the spotlight, reaching out with his baton at an awkward angle, maybe hopping on one leg to do so. His sheer enjoyment of his job is infectious and helps to make the evening go with a swing.

The programme started with a brilliant highlight – the Flying Theme and Finale to ET by John Williams; it’s such a rich and positive melody, sumptuously arranged, and a total joy to hear. Themes to Gladiator, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone and Jurassic Park followed, and then we had leader of the orchestra Duncan Riddell playing as a violin soloist for Williams’ moving Schinder’s List theme. Everyone automatically froze at the opening double bass notes of the instantly recognisable Jaws theme; then the main themes to Out of Africa and Robin Hood Prince of Thieves followed, and then the very different style of Ron Goodwin’s 633 Squadron drew the first half to a conclusion.

After the interval, we heard Vangelis’ Chariots of Fire theme; a piece of music I normally expect to hear played primarily by keyboard or synthesiser – it comes across very differently – much more substantial – when played by a full orchestra. Next was a blend of excitement and melancholy with the themes to Apollo 13, the Hymn to the Fallen from Saving Private Ryan and the familiar March from Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. Mancini’s lilting and romantic Moon River from Breakfast at Tiffany’s followed, and then Sir Arthur Bliss’ rousing March from the 1936 film Things to Come. The evening wrapped up with three different pieces from Star Wars – Princess Leia’s Theme, the Imperial March and the Main Theme.

A Film Music Gala works superbly well as an entertainment because each piece is relatively short and is designed to stand alone. It’s very different from an evening of classical excerpts where you often wish you could hear more from the work from which the extract is taken. But a film theme can last as little as a couple of minutes and is complete in itself. The audience at the Royal and Derngate on Friday had a whale of a time and didn’t want to let the orchestra go home! It’s not often you see a standing ovation at an orchestral concert – which only shows how superb the whole evening was.

Five Alive, Let Music Thrive!