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Review – Dracula, A Comedy of Terrors, Menier Chocolate Factory, London, 12th April 2025

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At what point, I wonder, did the terrifying Count Dracula of Bram Stoker’s Gothic1897 horror novel become a figure of fun? It’s very hard to imagine a modern adaptation of the story being anything other than comical. I’m no expert on the Transylvanian terror monger, but recent re-workings of Dracula include the likes of Love At First Bite, Count Duckula, and indeed Sesame Street’s Count; and now we have Gordon Greenberg and Steve Rosen’s Dracula, A Comedy of Terrors, currently raising the roof at the Menier.

Five actors play a full cast of characters that sees estate agent Jonathan Harker travel from Whitby to Transylvania to do some house selling with Dracula – nothing unusual in that. Instantly captivated by the innocent and hapless Harker, he follows him back to Britain to seduce Harker’s intended, Lucy, and, if he can, Harker too. Lucy’s father, Lord Westfield, runs an asylum and is trying to rehabilitate one of his inmates, Renfield, back into society; the perfect setting for a cosy domestic comedy, one might say. Add to the mix Lucy’s sex-starved sister Mina, and doctor and vampire slayer Van Helsing (Mrs), and you have a hilarious hotchpotch of sexual attraction, outrageous costumes and coffins.

It’s a bright, energetic and funny production, helped by the fact that the characters all take their plight seriously. There are a couple of moments of pure stage magic when one actor has only just left the stage and is still talking offstage, when they suddenly reappear on the other side of the stage as a completely different character. I’m still trying to work out how Dianne Pilkington did that. The production mines all the usual Dracula-style gags, with some excellent physical comedy; I’m still laughing at the thought of James Daly, as Dracula, theatrically heading off into the night with a flourish of his cape, only to get completely batflap-trapped in its folds.

There’s more than a nod to Rocky Horror, not only with Dracula’s own first appearance, but also in the unexpected effect the Count has on another member of the cast – I won’t give the game away. Tijana Bjelajac’s delightful set conceals several surprises, and Tristan Raines’ costumes push the boat out with some hilarious and inventive styling.

With only Mr Daly having the one role – let’s face it, you can’t double up when you’re playing Dracula – everyone else shares a plethora of personalities, with Sebastian Torkia brilliant as both Mina and Van Helsing, Dianne Pilkington nailing both the misogynistic Westfield and the insect-eating Renfield, and Safeena Ladha playing Lucy with spirit, determination and terrific comic timing.

The secret weapon in the cast is the always outstanding Charlie Stemp, here denied any opportunities to sing or dance – although he does throw in a few steps where he can – giving us a wonderful portrayal of the chastely conservative and risk-averse Harker, clearly tempted by the kind of sexual attention he never expected. Extremely funny and ending up as a very unlikely comic hero, Mr Stemp continues to show that there’s simply nothing he can’t do on stage.

At 90 minutes with no interval, it does have the feel of an energetically ambitious Fringe production, casting risks aside and trying out everything to get a laugh. Perhaps the most surprising thing is that every attempt to get a laugh succeeds; there are no duff moments. Does it lack subtlety? You betcha. Does the hyped up Menier audience want subtlety in this production? Absolutely not. Hilarious fun, beautifully executed, and a total riot. The run at the Menier lasts until 3rd May, but I think this is a production that could easily see light of day (sorry Dracula) at some future point.

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Murder She Didn’t Write, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 14th April 2025

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Degrees of Error have been developing their Murder She Didn’t Write improvisation show for over 13 years now, and as well as their regular stint at the Edinburgh Fringe, are currently touring the UK – with a four night residence at Northampton’s Royal and Derngate. A team of fifteen or so actors mix and match their appearances, so if you see the show more than once, not only will it be a completely different story, it could well be a very different cast.

Agatha CrustyAnd if you’re an aficionado of the Art of Improv, you might well want to see it again because they’re true experts in the field. Company co-developer and co-founder Lizzy Skrzypiec introduces the show in her guise as Detective Agatha Crusty – of all the assets this show has, intellectual subtlety perhaps isn’t its raison d’être – and explains that a murder will be committed on stage and that it’s up to us to choose the occasion on which it will happen and identify a central clue vital to solving the case. The merry audience at the Royal chose a Cushion Conference – something everyone knows something about (not) – and a Pet Rock. Detective Crusty also sought an “event” that would be involved, and someone piped up with the word “dentist”, which is more of a profession than an event, but they ran with it.

All the suspectsThus ensued The Case of the Pointy Pet Rock, where William, the pet rock belonging to suspect Vernon Blue (Stephen Clements), was found stuffed in the mouth of the very dead victim Graham Green (Peter Baker), thereby suffocating them; but was it a rock plant to incriminate Blue? Might it have been Violet Blue (Sylvia Bishop), or newlyweds Roger and Bernadette Red (Douglas Walker and Rachael Procter-Lane) who were to blame? All would be revealed by the end of the show. Both Mrs Chrisparkle and I thought it was Violet. She looked shifty from the start and wasn’t convincing anyone with her predilection for recreational dentistry. Added to the fact that this all took place at the Kettering Cushion Conference Centre, her alibi was looking weak.

BernadetteI’m not a natural Improv-goer; sometimes I find it descends too much into silliness and repetitiveness. However, Murder She Didn’t Write ticks all the boxes for a very funny night of unpredictable mayhem. The training and practice required by the cast to keep their minds fresh and inventive to cope with whatever the audience – and more likely, other cast members – throw at them must be immense. There were some extremely funny scenes – I loved Ms Procter-Lane in convulsions of pleasure exploring the cushioning of the chaise longue – and the way in which they show how each of the suspects had a motive for killing poor Graham is extremely inventive and entertaining. And huge plaudits to Peter Baker for their tremendous physical comedy as a dead body sliding off a chair into a mini heap on the floor.

Green on RedEnormous fun, incredibly skilful and hugely creative, this touring version of the show runs to two hours including an interval, whilst the Edinburgh Fringe version lasts 70 minutes. No two shows will be the same and it’s perfect for anyone who likes a combination of whodunit, comedy and hilarious campy nonsense. Running at the Royal and Derngate until Thursday, but then off on its travels again, including a full four weeks in Edinburgh at the Assembly George Square. Irresistible!

 

Production photos by Pamela Raith

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – The Years, Harold Pinter Theatre, London, 12th April 2025

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It’s often useful to come to a theatrical production completely clueless about its content or history. That was pretty much my situation at Saturday’s matinee of The Years. I knew it had been a big success at the Almeida Theatre in 2024, I knew that it was one hour fifty-five minutes with no interval, and I knew that on some occasions they have to stop the show due to audience members’ reactions to a certain scene. But I’d never heard of Annie Ernaux, on whose book, Les Années, the play is based, nor of Eline Arbo, who adapted it and directs the production.

It’s an autobiographical account of Ms Ernaux’ life, with five actors playing her and the other people in her life. The actors are of varying ages and portray Ms Ernaux as a child, a teen/young adult, a young woman, a middle-aged woman and finally a more elderly woman (although the always incredible Deborah Findlay looks way too young to be “elderly”!) From the start, it’s an ensemble performance, with all five participating at all the stages of her life, describing photographs from the past that serve as launchpads for a scene from any particular era.

Eline Arbo’s direction is very strong on sheetography. A clean white sheet is unfolded as the backdrop for each photograph which will then be used as a tablecloth, or scrunched up to become a baby, or a garment, or a banner – the list is endless. It’s a very clever and successful device that allows our imaginations to work overtime, and all the sheets that have played a part in telling her story are hung up around the stage, like ghosts from a former time, emphasising how a person is the sum of all their experiences – and even their experiences to come. They really do get through a lot of sheets. Indeed, if there is one message that came most strongly forward to me from the production is that a person is made up of so many elements, many of which will contrast and contradict other aspects of their personality. As Walt Whitman said, I am large, I contain multitudes.

The play grows in power as it progresses; unsurprisingly, perhaps, as there’s only so much interest to be drawn from the behaviour and experiences of a child, whose prime interest appears to be following through on her early discoveries of the joys of masturbation. But as the woman gets older, has relationships, finds work and a place in the world, has an abortion – see first paragraph – then a marriage, children and develops the self-confidence and self-awareness to live her life as she sees fit, the story gets much more interesting. And whilst it is a serious play, there are some flashes of terrific humour, such as attending an overzealous exercise class, or participating in a very drunken and druggy party. There are also some surprising musical moments – I didn’t, for example, expect to find myself swaying in my seat to Desireless’ fantastic Voyage Voyage.

The performances are all superb, totally convincing with their portrayal of the gradually ageing central character, as well as all the people around her. Harmony Rose-Bremner is great as the impish young Annie; playful, mischievous, and grumpy when things don’t go her way. I also really enjoyed her performance as one of Annie’s sullen teenage sons. Anjli Mohindra takes Annie into her young adult years where she starts having to make decisions for herself and first encounters men. Tuppence Middleton is the twenty/thirty-something Annie, making the choice that now is the wrong time to have a baby and dealing with all that decision’s consequences. Gina McKee is brilliant as the middle-aged mother and divorcee, starting to find time for herself again; and Deborah Findlay pulls all the threads together as Annie looks forward to whatever time is left, managing her family as best she can and to the extent that they need it, whilst making sure her own needs remain of the prime importance.

It would be wrong not to go back to that abortion scene. It’s graphic and pulls no punches; red blood shows up strongly against a white sheet. It’s also honest and frank; there’s no attempt to dress it up politely because some things just can’t be dressed up. It’s a scene of huge dramatic intensity, performed immaculately by Tuppence Middleton. There are trigger warnings to read, and people may assume that won’t affect me, I’ll be alright; only to discover that some of us are not alright. There must have been at least six audience members throughout the auditorium who were so affected that they had to leave or, indeed, be attended to in their seats. A few minutes into the following scene, the stage manager had to come on stage and announce that the performance would be suspended whilst audience members were assisted.

I can’t stress how helpful an interval would have been. The impetus for keeping up the dramatic pressure by not having an interval needs to be weighed against the practical needs of the audience, and a scheduled break would allow people to settle, or at least for paramedics to do their work. Bizarrely, during the pause – which lasted about twenty minutes – the cast did not fully leave the stage but hovered in the wings, chatting; it seemed like a deliberate decision to do that, but whenever I’ve been in an audience where the performance has had to be paused because of a technical issue, the cast quietly go off and aren’t seen again until everything is ready to resume. Curious!

Not the Seven Ages of Man, but the Five Ages of Woman. It’s a subject that seems rarely to be addressed, and its impact is powerful. And whilst there are a few lulls in the storytelling, particularly in the first part of the play, the content builds to a very strong and memorable conclusion.

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – The Great Gatsby (First Preview), London Coliseum, 11th April 2025

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One hundred years and a day since the first publication of Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby – as director Marc Bruni informed us at the start of the show – Kait Kerrigan, Jason Howland and Nathan Tysen’s much expected musical launched itself on the stage of the London Coliseum to one of the most excited and receptive audiences I’ve ever witnessed. Many dressed for the occasion with sparkly flapper outfits, or old sport peaked caps; I went for my Autograph at Marks and Spencer look. And what a charming first performance gift – on every seat was a commemorative copy of the book.

If you know me IRL as the young people say, you’ll know that I’m a front stalls kind of guy; that way you can observe the facial expressions, catch any tiny mishaps and truly be a part of what’s going on. My ticket was provided by that generous chap the Squire of Sidcup (he’s moved now, but although you can take the squire out of Sidcup, you can’t etc…) as we’re both huge fans of the book and I have a significant birthday coming up. However, the Squire is more of a towards the back of the dress circle kind of guy, and at that distance, particularly in a space as vast as the Coliseum, you can’t really see the facial expressions. Added to the fact that this was the first preview, this isn’t by any means a full and incisive review – just a reaction to what I saw.

And what I saw was a sheer delight. I had no expectations of the show, in that I didn’t know the songs, and I had read no reviews of the Broadway production. Bear in mind, this a big, lavish musical that primarily concentrates on the love story, and Fitzgerald’s subtler themes of insincerity, lack of vision, material versus spiritual wealth and the failure of the American Dream all take a back seat. Many years ago we saw another staging of Gatsby, Gatz, and this is as far from that kind of adaptation as it’s possible to get.

Given the romantic angle, the show tells the story of The Great Gatsby remarkably well. It still uses Nick as its central narrative thread, it shows the heartache behind the glamour, it reveals how removed George and Myrtle are from the excesses of East Egg, and it places the timeless story firmly in its 1925 setting, with contemporary musical routines. If it lacks anything, there isn’t a lot of humour in the show; there are some nice comic moments with the likes of Daisy, Jordan and Myrtle, but the male characters are not comic types and there aren’t many laughs in the book.

As spectacle, the show is outstanding; the sets take your breath away, the lighting is stunning, the costumes are immaculate, and the eighteen-piece orchestra work their socks off. A delicate story like this could easily be shattered by excessive amplification, but every note sung – indeed every word spoken – has perfect clarity of both volume and elocution, and the singing throughout the entire show is completely fantastic. Given this was its first preview, I could not believe how seamlessly and perfectly the entire performance took place. I can’t imagine that there are any tweaks to be made between now and Press Night.

The cast are uniformly superb, headed by Jamie Muscato as Gatsby, conveying the character’s disconnect from the rest of his environment; rather like the Wizard of Oz, his reputation and influence are far greater than the substance of the man himself. I realise I’ve only seen Mr Muscato once before, way back in the days of the excellent Bend It Like Beckham; he was terrific in that, but, as they say, from little acorns… His stage presence and vocal power are extraordinary. Frances Mayli McCann is also exceptional as Daisy, full of emotion and with a fantastic voice; she’s also matched with Jon Robyns’ chillingly believable Tom – given his terrific voice, it’s a shame that Tom has no solo songs.

Rachel Tucker gives us a truly spirited and gorgeously tragic Myrtle, Amber Davies is fantastic as Jordan Baker, and – as you would expect – John Owen-Jones tremendous as Meyer Wolfsheim, a part that is built up in the show more than perhaps the book warrants. The ever-reliable Joel Montague is perfect as George, and, in his West End debut, American star Corbin Bleu is outstanding as Nick, through whose eyes all the events of the story are seen.

Beautiful to look at, glorious to hear; full of impact and entertainment, and with some stunning performances. What’s not to love?

Five Alive Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Dara Ó Briain, Re: Creation, Bedford Corn Exchange, 9th April 2025

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A Dara Ó Briain gig is never just a mere show – it’s an event. He’s a giant in more than one way; the most expert storyteller and comic presence, even when he’s in a room with over a thousand people, you still feel that he’s confiding just in you – all these other people around us are a mirage, apart from those brave enough to sit in the front row, from whom Mr Ó B attempts to winkle out comedy nuggets that he will return to again and again throughout the evening.

We were introduced to recently redundant gas pipe replacement fitter James and his wife Kate the cyberfraud expert; Jay the secretive Luton Airport security officer who’s going to make a fortune from letting out rooms near the new Bedford Theme Park, Cambridge Micky and her Californian friend who was enticed into seeing the show in a strange mystic vision, and test driver Josh who admitted to be the youngest in the front couple of rows, at the age of 29. Once Mr Ó Briain gets his teeth into your personal details he doesn’t let go of them over the next two and a half hours, like a benevolent comedy Rottweiler.

During those two and half hours, he has plenty of opportunity to explore some delightful comic avenues, such as younger peoples’ predilection for no pubic hair, memories of Now That’s What I Call Music compilations, Irish school poo (don’t ask), and, my favourite, his experience of attending an online Speed Awareness Course. Having done one myself, Mr Ó Briain absolutely nails every single aspect of that humiliating, almost religiously contrite, couple of hours.

For his previous tour, So Where Were We, he concentrated on the story of searching for his birth parents, as he was adopted. He found his mother, but not his father. In Re: Creation, he continues the search for his father, and that gripping, gasp-inducing, but fortunately also hilarious account takes up the majority of the second half of the evening. No spoilers from me, but, apparently, the Bedford audience gave the most astonishing reaction in his tour so far to one of the revelations in the story; all I can say is, I for one was genuinely astonished, and it must have taken a good half a minute for my jaw dropping to end.

As always, Dara was on unflappable form; his quick-witted memory going into overdrive, and exuding super confidence from every pore whilst always keeping it real and taking all opportunities for a spot of self-deprecation. A great blend of both style and substance. Re: Creation is still in its early days and continues to tour the UK and Ireland over the next twelve months. Highly recommended!

Review – Tambo and Bones, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 11th March 2025

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Dave Harris’ Tambo and Bones takes us, in three scenes, on a five hundred year adventure from an American Minstrel show, to a hip-hop gig in the present, then onto a futuristic lecture, examining black identity and the black experience in creative art. Ambitious, or what?! One hand it feels very innovative and experimental; on the other it also borrows from the Theatre of the Absurd, and there are a several nods to other productions that attempted similar stylistic presentations. Either way, it’s undoubtedly a subversive piece of theatre which provokes a variety of reactions and will leave you either exhilarated or exasperated – or quite possibly both.

T&BIn the same way that Harlequin and Columbine were set characters in Commedia dell’Arte, Tambo and Bones were roles in nineteenth-century minstrel shows; Tambo played the tambourine, and Bones played the bones (obvs) – a kind of castanet. The shows were performed by white actors in blackface; it seems bizarre and offensive now, but my parents’ generation adored TV’s Black and White Minstrel Show which continued until 1978, with a stage production touring until 1987. As a child I just found it freaky.

Clifford Samuel and Daniel WardThe first scene shows Tambo and Bones (sans either tambo or bones) exchanging ideas, challenges, interacting with the audience, against a fake, surrealistic landscape including two (movable) trees. This shouted Waiting for Godot to me all the way through; two tramp-like characters who apparently have no other existence apart from in each other’s lives, without much happening. Trees play a part in Godot too; and Beckett’s Pozzo and Lucky, a ruthless autocrat with a mistreated servant who interrupt proceedings, are here replaced by the playwright (a puppet) upon whom they deliver vengeful violence. Two Characters in Search of an Author, perhaps?

Daniel WardThe second scene takes us to a gig where Tambo and Bones are high-achieving, influential hip hop musicians, presenting us with the two elements of creative drive: wanting to change the world with your art, and wanting to make lots of money out of it. Shakespeare wouldn’t disagree. But their fame and fortune gets out of hand as they start – unwittingly or otherwise – to cause the overthrow of the world political status quo.

DW and CSFour hundred years in the future, our actors, Daniel Ward and Clifford Samuel, come out of character and present as themselves, reflecting on how the first half of the show exhausted them with all that rap, and delivering a history of how Tambo and Bones became the religious icons/cult heroes/political philosophers that have led us to our current, blissful state. Throughout the play there are additional nuances of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, Hamilton and even The Book of Mormon, in its clever portrayal of how an ordinary person can end up being a semi-God.

Clifford SamuelThe language is deliberately divisive, with endless repetitions of the N word; individual audience members will react to that however they see fit. The play asks many questions about race and identity, and what’s fake and what’s real, as well as the responsibilities of a performing artist, and how an audience responds to what it sees on stage. It doesn’t offer answers to these questions – they have to be provided by you.

DW and CSThe ending is especially subversive, but perhaps not unique; I was reminded of DV8’s Bound to Please, where a cast member rounded on the audience for photographing the show, and Peter Handke’s Offending the Audience, where taped cheering forces the audience out of the auditorium at the end of the play without their having the chance to have their reaction heard. Neither of those happen here, but it’s an equally disturbing and unsettling ending.

Clifford Samuel and Daniel WardClifford Samuel and Daniel Ward give hugely committed performances that show off their terrific versatility, with great clowning and musical skills as well as being superb actors. Incredibly likeable, their enthusiasm spreads all around the auditorium, galvanising the audience into frequently responding to them; this is perhaps not a show for shrinking violets. Hats off also to Jaron Lammens and Dru Cripps as the X-Bots in the final scene; Mr Cripps’ ability to sit on an invisible chair leaves you speechless.

Daniel WardEach scene culminates in acts of violence. It’s a personal thing, but violence is always turn-off for me, even against a puppet, or a masked DJ, or a cartoon President, or a robot that protests it’s a real person. For me, Tambo and Bones is an essentially pessimistic play, despite the upbeat air that permeates all its scenes; if violence is always the outcome, the future for the world is bleak. There’s a very significant event that happens between the second and third scenes which I won’t mention, but is an act of violence that not even Hitler achieved.

Clifford SamuelThe fact that the audience just drifts off at the end of the play, as and when they’re ready, is a theatrical not with a bang but a whimper moment, leaving you dissatisfied with the conclusion. But that’s not the only reason that, despite all its extraordinary qualities, I can’t find myself enamoured with this play. If you don’t “get” Godot style interaction, you’ll find the first scene dull (Mrs Chrisparkle nodded off). I found the final scene dull too – in fact, I stopped listening to the narrative because the actions of the X-Bots was much more interesting. And for all its bold decisions and quirky structure, I couldn’t stop thinking about how, deep down, nothing is new. Perhaps I’m just insufficiently connected to American culture.

Clifford Samuel and Daniel WardNevertheless, if you haven’t seen anything like this before, this will be a shock to the system, and if you like to be challenged in the theatre, this is definitely for you. After it leaves Northampton, the tour continues to Liverpool, Manchester, Coventry, back to its spiritual home in Stratford East, and finally to Leeds in May.

Production photos by Jane Hobson

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – Edward II, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 5th March 2025

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It’s not often you’re invited to be part of the procession around a royal coffin to pay your respects to the dear departed monarch (in this case, Edward I, fine old chap that he was). But it’s an unusual, inclusive and rather exciting way of getting the audience focussed on the power of the crown at the beginning of Daniel Raggett’s clear, pacy and gripping new production of Christopher Marlowe’s Edward II at the Swan Theatre.

Daniel EvansThe one thing that every tittering adolescent knows about Edward II is the way he met his final come-uppance with a red hot poker. Whether that’s the genuine historical truth, or just a myth invented centuries ago to deter men from the sin of Sodom, is probably a question for debate. But Raggett’s production makes it extremely clear that the king and his favourite, Gaveston, are more than just bosom buddies. The opening scene, which Marlowe sets as “a street in London”, shows Gaveston, Spenser, Baldock and others in a sweaty gentlemen’s sauna, perfectly transporting us from 1307 to the present day; and our first sight of Edward and Gaveston together shows them in full embrace, smothering each other with hungry kisses and desperate sexual attraction, much to the disgust of their fellow courtiers, who clearly consider themselves real men in comparison. To them, Edward is every inch a pipsqueak. It’s a fascinating, powerful juxtaposition of sexualities; homophobia is clearly rife in the court of King Edward, and the audience can only admire the honesty of the two main characters living their lives as they see fit.

Eloka IvoBut it’s not as simple as that. Gaveston is a ruffian and a scoundrel, who knows full well that by dancing attendance on the king he will receive favour in the form of riches and status. And within a few seconds of them being together, Edward has bestowed on him the titles of Lord High Chamberlain and Earl of Cornwall, and has encouraged him to knock the Bishop of Coventry’s mitre off his head and “rend his stole”, in a startlingly anarchical scene of insubordination that reduces a figure of religious influence and significance into a shocked victim of assault; and one only has to look at politics in the US today to see the similarities between Edward and Gaveston and Trump and Musk. Never has this play felt more relevant. One might almost expect Gaveston to come on stage wielding a chainsaw.

Death of GavestonEdward’s insistence on his own eccentric bestowal of power can only ever end in one way. Gaveston’s inevitable murder takes place at the beginning of Act Three (of Five), after which the king looks to find new favourites in Spenser and Baldock whilst Mortimer plots alongside the Queen to overthrow him. Eventually, what no one foresees is that the future King Edward III views the line of succession as giving him complete control of the country, outwitting Mortimer who had expected to become Lord Protector; a case of this crown ain’t big enough for both of us. The play ends with the usual optimism of a new order bringing in calm and stability after the chaos that has ensued.

James HayesDaniel Raggett has condensed this weighty and poetic play into 100 minutes without an interval, literally zipping through the text, reducing the number of characters by two-thirds whilst maintaining the integrity of the original and letting Marlowe’s words do the work. Normally my heart sinks when I discover a production has abandoned the interval in favour of getting the audience home early, but this is one of those rare occasions where it is completely the right decision.

Edward and LightbornA few props and tables are all that are required to suggest the different scenes, whilst beneath the surface, the stage rolls back to reveal the murky pond and prison where Edward will end his days. Tim Lutkin’s superb lighting design focuses our attention on all the significant elements of the production, and helps make the scene changes slick and quick, while Tommy Reilly’s atmospheric music helps build the suspense and tension of the inevitable outcome. The climactic death scenes of Gaveston and Edward are staged with realistic and riveting horror; afterwards their frail corpses reveal a stark contrast with the powerful people they were in life.

Gaveston at the saunaMuch of the impact of the first half of the play stems from the performance by Eloka Ivo as Gaveston, a wannabe nobleman, unsurprisingly tending towards the arrogant, with a voice as robust as his physical appearance. It’s a fantastic performance. As an aside, the production makes good use of his size in comparison with the king’s (Daniel Evans) relatively slight stature; when reunited for the second time, the king jumps into Gaveston’s arms like a five year old delighted to be swung around by his daddy.

CastRuta Gedmintas is excellent as Queen Isabella; haughty and aloof, seeing no need to hide her disdain of her wayward husband, and clinical in her continued quest for power. In Edward’s court, the best performances come from Geoffrey Lumb’s savage Warwick, a kill first and ask questions later kind of courtier, and Emilio Doorgasingh as the complex and troubled Pembroke. Jacob James Beswick gives us a knowingly sly Lightborn, the murderer with a special trick up his sleeve for the king, and there’s good support from Stavros Demetraki and Kwaku Mills as Gaveston’s allies and the king’s new favourites, Spenser and Baldock. For press night, Prince Edward – eventually to become King Edward III – was played by Freddie Beck, conveying the leap from jimjams to military command with excellent, clear, youthful authority.

Spenser and BaldockBut of course it is Daniel Evans, the RSC’s very own Artistic Director, lured back into acting fourteen years after we saw him in Company at Sheffield, who grabs hold of the role of Edward II and runs with it for all its worth. Adopting a shrill, petulant tone that can both badger and wheedle its way around his opponents, casting his queen aside with derogatory cruelty, yet also appearing totally vulnerable when all the veneer of power is gone, it’s a stunning and brave performance that compels your attention throughout.

With an extraordinary Hamlet in the Royal Shakespeare Theatre and this gripping production of Edward II in the Swan, the RSC are having a cracking start to 2025, Long may it continue!

Production photos by Helen Murray

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Unicorn, Garrick Theatre, London, 1st March 2025

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Take a writer of some renown, a gifted cast including national treasures, and an intriguingly saucy subject that offers endless dramatic opportunities, and tickets will fly out of the door. And indeed, our Saturday matinee proudly boasted House Full notices confirming that this was an irresistible theatrical prospect for the early bookers.

Polly and Nick, successful in their careers, long time married with kids, find their bedroom antics are not what they were. Nick stifles any disappointment in that department by concentrating on work and other community activities. Polly is keener on scratching that itch and becomes besotted with one of her mature students, Kate. But Polly doesn’t think it’s fair simply to have an affair behind Nick’s back, thus creating the suggestion of a throuple – and Kate’s up for this, being a unicorn: “a bisexual person who is willing to join an existing couple, often with the presumption that this person will date and become sexually involved with both members of that couple”. Where would we be without Urban Dictionary?

Many years ago, when I was gainfully employed, I attended a training course which discussed ways in which a manager could coax, cajole, encourage, coach, convince, etc a member of staff to do something that you wanted them to do; and there are all sorts of methods you can successfully employ. But sometimes, when all else fails, you need to fall back on the old solution of JFDI – Just F***ing Do It.

And that was what came to mind during the first Act of Unicorn, where Polly and Nick huff and puff about the rights and wrongs of doing something that they’re both tempted to do but don’t, thus creating approximately an hour of nothing really happening. The second Act starts more promisingly – two years have passed, and things have considerably changed. Polly and Nick are no longer together; she kicked him out after having an affair. But then they are drawn back to the prospect of the throuple, and we’re back to Square One.

Mike Bartlett puts his characters through all sorts of rigours before getting to the final scenes, many of which I found extremely unbelievable. Nick, whose natural reticence and lack of curiosity makes him totally unsuitable for the polyamorous set-up, has more than one affair and, although unhappy, has moved on. Polly, never wanting to set eyes on him again, takes comfort in her relationship with Kate. But Bartlett forces the three back together again in what feels a very contrived and inorganic plot development. The most likely element to play a part in their lives forward, their children, are completely ignored. Not content with that, he then pours pestilence and plagues of locusts on them, by having one character lose parents in a car crash and another diagnosed with cancer. It put me in mind of Thomas Hardy’s predilection for fatalistic misery to befall his characters, just because he could.

The result is not only a Marathon of Misery, but also surprisingly boring. Visually, it’s one of the most static productions I’ve ever seen, just a sequence of characters sitting down on a sofa, or a bench, or a pair of chairs, moaning away about how everything is not working. You don’t get any sense of drama or, indeed, any kind of action at all. It’s more like a reading than a play. Information is deliberately withheld from the audience in an attempt, I presume, to introduce some suspense or tension, but it doesn’t materialise. Elements of politics and death are crowbarred in. The structure of the play gets vandalised towards the end by becoming an irritating series of short scenes on the couch, separated by quick lighting changes, giving a very unbalanced sense to the play as a whole.

Does it have any redeeming features? Yes. The scene changes are almost magical, in that the stage goes dark and when the lights return, everything is different; a truly slick operation. There are also some extremely funny lines; about six, I would estimate. And with a cast like Nicola Walker, Stephen Mangan and Erin Doherty, you know you are in the safest of hands to give very good performances; but even so, I was surprised at the lack of any form of sexual tension or chemistry between them. Problematically, you don’t really care about any of the characters – it’s not that they’re unlikeable, it’s just they’re barely there.

There’s probably a very good play lurking somewhere here, but it’s not even fighting to get out, it’s just languishing in the background. Some plays get better the more you reflect on them after the curtain comes down; this is the opposite. I can imagine this would have worked better as a short story, because there’s just no drama. Because of the quality of the performances, I can’t give this one star.

Two Disappointing For More!

 

Review – Screaming Blue Murder, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 27th February 2025

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Constant as the Northern Star, it was time for another Screaming Blue Murder at the Royal and Derngate – scheduled to be the last in the old Royal theatre before moving back to its proper home in the freshly de-RAAC’d Underground in April. Also, as firmly identified with Screaming Blue as Heinz with Baked Beans, was our regular host and MC Dan Evans, suffering from the sniffles, but there’s a lot of it about. Fortunately a kind lady to my left was able to offer him the occasional tissue. I could have given him a whole packet, but didn’t want to draw attention to myself.

Dan set about mingling his way through the crowd, which seemed largely made up of escapees from tough and dangerous East Side Northampton – NN3 to the cognoscenti. We also met Ginny, the English student who doesn’t attend uni – a somewhat complicated arrangement – and Ryan, the crime lecturer who didn’t return for the final act and, thereby, as is always a risk if you do that, missed the best bit. We also met Roger from Northern Ireland, whose unexpected mime for the reason he’s now in Northampton left Dan appropriately speechless.

Showing how our cup ranneth over with talent in this line up, our first act, normally a headliner, was Roger Monkhouse, someone we’ve admired and enjoyed many times over the years. Celebrating his 60th birthday apparently, his young fogey persona is now distinctly becoming at least middle-aged; I can’t say he’s now an old fogey, because he’s still younger than me. He delivers his material as almost a stream of consciousness, that fools you into thinking he’s making it up on the spur of the moment; but in fact it’s meticulously crafted to give that effect. His material centres on that recognisable confusion of living in the modern world as a no-longer modern bloke, with some lovely relatable observations on how we all just manage to plod on despite our brains and bodies letting us down. Always a delight.

Our next act, and new to us, was Dee Allum, who introduces herself from the start as a trans woman, and whose material centres on her life and the problems she faces, but also you can see the joy her new identity brings her. She has a relatively quiet style, occasionally feeling a little tentative until she gets the vibe of the audience but then grows in confidence as her set progresses. There’s a lot of refreshingly new and innovative material here; I loved her deliberately long and immaculately phrased story involving Kurdish and Yorkshire, and there are some terrific insights into managing a relationship when you come out as trans during the relationship. She ends her routine with a brilliant tale of sperm donation. I’m tempted to say we’ve all been there, but of course we haven’t; but if you have, you really get it. Definitely One To Watch.

After two gently delivering wordsmiths, our headliner was Phil Nichol who gave the evening a hugely energetic kick up the backside. Buzzing with excitement, he exploded around the stage with his uniquely unrestrained hilarity; a bit like the most endearing spoilt kid you ever met. He radiates a strange blend of danger and affability, mixed with oodles of cool, and a quick comedy brain that seizes any opportunity. Armed with his guitar, he gave us some excellent rock parodies, and fixated on poor second row Luke, upon whom he (literally) thrust his faux-sexual advances. Luke proved his worth later when he joined Phil on stage and showed what a good sport he was. Extremely funny throughout and a great way to end the night.

Review – Eshaan Akbar, I Can’t Get No Satisfakshaan, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 21st February 2025

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It’s been a surprisingly long time – six years – since we last saw Eshaan Akbar live, but he’s still very much the same, urbane, civilised chap as before. He cuts a very relaxed figure on the stage. Unhurried, unfazed, taking everything in his stride; you know you’re in very safe hands with his intelligent content and friendly delivery, even though there’s a sting in the tail to many of his stories.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, as, after a brief getting-to-know-you session at the beginning of the show, including talking to an audience member whose sister insisted she came and thus made the ultimate sacrifice by giving up watching EastEnders, Eshaan introduced us to his support act, the excellent Alexandra Haddow, whom we’ve seen many times before and is always very entertaining. This was the perfect gig for her to recollect her Corby upbringing, and the exciting occasion on when a railway line finally reached the town; she also told us about her boyfriend-geezer and his simple North London ways. I loved her material about relationship “launches” on Instagram, and the pitfalls of being too honest about other people’s ex’s. Confident, smart, and very funny, it was an excellent start to the evening.

After the interval, we welcomed Mr Akbar back, for an hour’s worth of material reflecting his own national identity, as a brown man, born to Pakistani/Bangladeshi parents in Whitechapel, who completely identifies as English – although he doesn’t pass the old Norman Tebbit cricket test. A private education introduced him to the Best of British Banter, as evidenced by his so-called friend Ben, who gave him a deceptive nickname that took years for the penny to drop. Now aged 40, he’s unexpectedly back on the dating scene – including the Muslim version of Tinder – and he sees the world, or at least the country, through the eyes of experience of travelling up and down the land and meeting all kinds of people.

It takes a bold comedian to mine humour from racism (not his own, I should add) and he frequently doesn’t play safe with his material, much to his credit. Thoughtful and intelligent comedy that points out the differences and the similarities between races; and whilst it never truly soars to the heights of hysterically funny, is always entertaining, thought-provoking and full of relatable experiences and observations. Very enjoyable! His tour continues throughout the UK and Ireland into April.