Review – Life of Pi, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 3rd April 2024

I remember missing out on seeing Lolita Chakrabarti’s stage version of Yann Martel’s novel Life of Pi when it opened in Sheffield five years ago. Since then, it’s hit the West End and Broadway, garnering awards by the bucketload as it goes, and is currently nearing the final few months of its UK and Ireland tour, with a US tour on the way. You could say it’s been pretty successful! Confession time: I haven’t read the book, but I have seen the film – and I’m afraid it left both Mrs Chrisparkle and I cold. Can Max Webster’s stage production give it the magic it needs?

PiLet’s go back to basics. Sixteen year old Piscine Patel, at home in Pondicherry with a loving family who run the local zoo, can’t get enough of God. So much so that he attends temple in the morning, church in the afternoon and mosque in the evening. He’s decided to shorten his name to Pi, primarily because his schoolfriends and brother take the piscine out of his full name; but I’m sure it’s no coincidence that Pi also gives us π, the mathematical magic number that plays its part in ruling the universe – mind you, what do I know? I only just scraped Maths O Level fifty years ago.

HomeIt’s while crossing the high seas on an attempt to create a new life for themselves in Canada, accompanied by a rag-tag collection of wild animals from the zoo and the world’s surliest cook, that they are shipwrecked. All the animals eat/kill each other until only Richard Parker, the Bengal Tiger, is left; and with Pi being the lone human survivor, they’re stuck together at sea for 227 days. Unbelievable, no? But that’s the point. Life can be unbelievable sometimes, and you’d better believe it. Mrs Okamoto may think Pi is spinning a tale of deceit from his hospital bed in Mexico, but just because something seems impossible, it need not necessarily be so.  There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, etc.

ShipwreckedPiscine, of course, means swimming pool in French, so from an early age young Pi was destined to be surrounded by water. Commentators have suggested that the sea in which he gets shipwrecked represents God because it’s everywhere; others say it’s the tiger who represents God because Pi both loves and fears him (and indeed talks to him – and the tiger talks back.) Either way, it’s a fantastical story, and, at the end of the day, Pi is the epitome of a true survivor. Is it because of his faith in God? You decide.

Amazing setThe production fortunately taps in to all the exhilarating and magical aspects of the story and is a hugely engrossing two-and-a-quarter hours of visual theatricality. The combination of Tim Hatley’s set design and Tim Lutkin and Tim Deiling’s lighting design is irresistibly evocative throughout the show. The stark hospital room (reminiscent of Act Four of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake, by the way) opens up into the family Pondicherry courtyard, filled with butterflies and warmth; later the walls reveal numerous secrets as the scene transforms into the ship being tossed on the seas. The lighting is also constantly evolving and suggestive and plays a huge part in the scene-setting.

Pi and TigerAt the heart of it all, and – I think – never off stage, is Divesh Subaskaran’s Pi, a dream of a professional debut, and a performance brimming with confidence, style, vulnerability and strength. Even though (hopefully) none of us will ever face the same challenges as Pi, he makes us easily identify with his character and inside we’re cheering him on to survival. Endearing from the very start, he is the kind of performer you can’t stop watching. Surely he will have a great career ahead of him.

Tiger and PiThe other superb performance is from the actors/puppeteers who bring Richard Parker to life, an extraordinarily physical feat but also artistically riveting, as they echo precisely those terrifying tiger movements – sly and threatening, powerful but delicate in its actions. The whole cast form a true ensemble, with many of them covering several roles, but standing out for me is the great support from Lilian Tsang as the no-nonsense Mrs Okamoto, and an enjoyable comic turn from Chand Martinez as the inspirational Admiral Balbir Singh.

BoatThere’s a moment shortly before the end when Pi offers an alternative explanation of what truly happened on that shipwreck. I was reminded of Hercule Poirot proposing two solutions at the end of Murder on the Orient Express – one that could satisfy the officials; and one that was the truth. Pi gives Mrs Okamoto an account that’s less fantastical and more believable. But is it more palatable? Sometimes it’s best to trust in the unbelievable.

PiLife of Pi continues its run this week in Northampton and then moves on to Nottingham, Wolverhampton, Liverpool, Shrewsbury, Southampton, Bath, Truro, Cheltenham, Glasgow, Edinburgh and finally Salford in July. A great set, great puppetry and a superb central performance – and you’ll probably be talking about what it all meant for days.

Go TigerP. S. There is an explanation for why the tiger is called Richard Parker. I did wonder if some other parallel universe contains a moderately successful suburban accountant named Shere Khan. It would only be fair.

P. P. S. I was surprised at the effectiveness of the savagery of animal on animal violence. Remember Buckingham in your prayers.

Production photos by Johan Persson

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review –Pete Firman, TrikTok, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 15th March 2024

Book for a Pete Firman show and you know you’re bound to have an evening of both laughter and total perplexity. His latest show, that was due to appear at the Royal and Derngate a few months ago but was postponed due to the dreaded RAAC, is two hours of Pete, alone on stage apart from when he is joined on stage by his victims, I mean, members of the audience who have volunteered to assist him, and it’s as joyful an experience as ever.

In some respects, he’s an unlikely looking showman, walking on stage without a lot of fuss, sporting a stripy T-shirt like it’s Dress Down Friday, a mass of unruly hair like an overgrown kid from The Romper Room. He has a touch of the modern day Eric Morecambe to him, and instantly garners a terrific rapport with the audience, whom he gamely insults, but we let him get away with it because he’s clearly such a nice guy.

I’ve lost count of the times when I have said to myself, I’m not going to take my eyes off his hands so that I can work out how he gets that signed card/£20 note into the zipped up part of his wallet, and once again I let myself down. In TrikTok (I see what he did there), Mr F has assembled a good dozen or so pretty much brand new tricks to astound us, ranging from the deceptively simple handkerchief that changes colour to the swinging helicopter of peril – the peril being that if in you’re in the first few rows you might get splashed with cola.

But some of his tricks truly defy everything we understand to be basic truths of life. For me the most gob-smacking moment was his moving pattern of solid wooden blocks that shatters the laws of geometry. I won’t say anymore so as not to ruin it for you – but how on Earth does he do it? It was also fun to be involved in one of his tricks, as one of three audience members who had to select a card from a pack that had been thrust to us from the stage in a bucket. Naturally, by the power of mentaltransference, he guessed which card I had picked. (Note – it wasn’t mental transference, it was a trick, and I have a tiny inkling of how he did it, but again I’ll say no more.)

Trick after trick entrances us, and the evening flies by. The tour has been so successful that extra gigs have been lined up during the summer, so if you haven’t had a chance to catch this show, you still can in Maidstone, Beccles, Andover, Middlesbrough, Barnard Castle, Chipping Norton and Darlington. A great night out – and you’ll go home buzzing with confusion!

Review – Miles Jupp, On I Bang, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 5th March 2024

An evening spent in the company of Miles Jupp is always a convivial affair. We saw his Songs of Freedom tour in 2016, a delightful pot pourri of comic observations channelled through his suave gentlemanly persona, where his public school charm turned on a sixpence to deliver unexpectedly downright rude material. His new show, On I Bang, is a much more concentrated affair, telling one complete, true story: his brush with an alarming health scare in 2021.

Picture the scene: having had a pleasantly undemanding day on the set of a TV programme, delivering the words of Jed Mercurio to an eager creative team, he found himself in the unenviable position of suffering from the mother of all brain spasms – a veritable mental explosion of bright lights in his head and incapacity in his body. An undiagnosed brain tumour had started to work its magic and caused a seizure. Mr Jupp takes us through that initial horror and guides us through the next few months of his life, in hospitals, on an operating table and in recovery. And whilst he does create an atmosphere where you have a ghastly sympathy for everything he went through, it’s primarily an account of all the humorous aspects of that awful event.

Mr Jupp is a raconteur par excellence; he knows how to make an occasion out of a chat. It was good to see that he’d made an effort with his appearance – smart suit, nice pink tie, pocket handkerchief and all that; the man treats his audiences with respect, which we consequently return.  It occurred to me during the show that he is rather like a heterosexual Julian Clary; full of rather barbed sideways comments, delivered with deliberate, disarming charm, elegant savagery, and frequently fabulous.

He is a master of the passive aggressive remark, which he makes with effortless ease about all manner of people and things, certainly including his own kith and kin. He’s clearly in a happy place with his family, yet he shares his perils about having five children, a wife with a tendency to clutter, a mother who doesn’t know when to stop, and a father-in-law who always knows best.

His exquisitely structured monologue creates a bond between us, so that we completely understand his fears from the whole situation. Not just the life or death stuff, but the more hard-hitting aspects, like whether or not he can still drink alcohol, and the ignominies (not to mention pain) of administering an MRSA swab test and having a catheter removed.

They say that if you don’t know what to write about, write about what you know. If you’re going to suffer a life threatening health-based episode, you might as well make it work for you. Sometimes if you go to a comedy gig and the comedian is using you as therapy for something they’re trying to come to terms with themselves, it can be a tricky and uncomfortable event. That’s not the case here.Rest assured that Mr Jupp is perfectly at ease with everything he’s experienced and is completely in charge of his emotions; not that you would expect anything different from the product of one of the more minor prep schools in Berkshire.

A painstakingly beautifully written show, delivered with deft assuredness and a true feel for the comic potential that lurks under the surface of disaster. Miles Jupp has been banging on about this for a couple of months now, but his tour runs until May and still has several more dates in some of the UK’s most charming locations, although many of them are sold out so you’d better be quick. A brilliant night of comedy!

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

Well hello again, old friend. Since the regular Screaming Blue Murder nights in the Underground were suspended due to the RAAC we have missed you very much. Now in the grander setting of the Royal Theatre, prior commitments meant we couldn’t attend the earlier Royal Screaming Blues, but at last we have put this right. A big phew all round! I must confess, I wasn’t sure how the Screaming Blue vibe would adjust to the Royal, but it works superbly – organisers take note, this is a very good combination of show and venue!

And it’s a welcome back to Mr Murder himself, Dan Evans, hosting the proceedings with all the sure-footedness of a mountain gazelle. Just because we’re now in a more formal venue, it doesn’t mean he can’t spy the characters in the first few rows of the audience. Thus we gained a certain degree of insight into phone-fiddler Lee and her ex-train driver husband, the Hunsbury Probation officer, the English teachers from Rugby who missed the last act to get their train, the Nottingham University trainee medics, and someone in telemarketing. That was all much more entertaining than it sounds. Dan was on terrific form with some blazing retorts and all the talk in the foyer and Gents’ toilets was how funny he was. Hope it doesn’t go to his head.

Our first act, and someone we’ve seen many times before, was the excellent Diane Spencer, a self-confessed vision of ginger pallor, whose strength lies in that marvellous contrast between an innocently posh exterior and not-so-posh nor innocent material. She gave us an excruciatingly brilliant routine about pole dancing and didn’t hold back on telling us the details of what can happen under her sheets. She has a wonderfully self-deprecating style and it’s easy to identify with all her stories. A superb start to the night.

Next up, and new to us, was Joshua Bethania, the funniest thing to come out of Bangalore since the last call centre excuse you were told. His delivery is quiet, gently paced and could be mistaken for laid-back; but in fact his set is exquisitely structured, with a wordsmith’s ear for le mot juste, and immaculate timing that nails every joke. Although his material is all from familiar territory, he puts a fresh spin on everything so that it feels completely original. Sometimes the languid approach by a comedian can fall flat on its face, but Mr Bethania uses it with such inventiveness that his act is a joy.

Our headliner was Richard Morton, another familiar face, full of attack right from the start, riffing off the audience with effortless ease, and giving us some truly funny musical parodies. His cost of living crisis version of Eddy Grant was (literally) priceless, and he ends with a hilarious reworking of a Tom Jones classic with which you can’t not join in. I reckon he and second-row-Rob will be besties after their comedy collaboration! You’re in the safest of hands with Mr Morton, guaranteed to make you shake with laughter.

A brilliant night of comedy. The next Screaming Blue Murder will be on 2nd May – can’t wait!

Review – Royal Philharmonic Orchestra play Dvořák Symphony No 9, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 25th February 2024

It comes a regrettable surprise that this was our first visit to a Royal Philharmonic Orchestra concert in Northampton for two years! And it was only four years ago that we last saw the RPO perform Dvořák’s New World Symphony – it is indeed one of the most crowd-pleasing choices for an orchestra to perform, as could be witnessed by the packed Sunday afternoon audience at the Derngate.

Our conductor for the programme was Shiyeon Sung, the first female conductor from South Korea to take up the baton at some of the world’s most prestigious orchestras. Whilst some conductors can approach the podium in a frenzy of excitement, Ms Sung adopts a pose of quiet dignity, sombrely turned out, guiding the orchestra with reserved authority. Continuing the international theme of the concert, the orchestra also welcomed a Guest Leader in the form of Swedish violinist Philip Zuckerman, a superb soloist in his own right.

Our first piece was Beethoven’s Leonore Overture No 3 in C Major; if you’ve never heard of the opera Leonore, that’s because Beethoven worked it up later to become Fidelio. The overture starts solemnly and relatively simply, with plaintive chords that build into a rush of excitement and joy. It’s very much an all or nothing kind of piece; it’s either an unassuming placid beat or a rip-roaring riot. The orchestra gave it a great performance; the trumpet fanfares coming from Stage Right were outstanding in their effectiveness.

Next up, we welcomed our soloist for the afternoon, cellist Zlatomir Fung, the RPO’s Artist-in-Residence for 2023-24. Looking for all the world like the happiest young man in all of Northampton, he beamed his way to the podium in preparation for performing Haydn’s Cello Concerto No 1 in C Major. Ms Sung abandoned her baton and conducted the orchestra with her hands only, coaxing out all the emotion of the piece, and Mr Fung produced a gorgeous rich tone from his 1717 Tecchler cello. The concerto demands great skill as it progresses from a stately baroque through to a beautiful central melody, rising to a stunning allegro finish, and Mr Fung demonstrated his amazing skill in abundance. A glorious experience to take us to the interval.

Finally we had the main dish of the day, Dvořák’s New World Symphony, No 9 in E Minor. Much more than just the Hovis theme, it’s a beautifully structured and exquisitely orchestrated series of wonderful tunes, inspired by Dvořák’s experiences in America. In another stand-out performance, Ms Sung helped the orchestra to bring out a brave delicacy in the second movement that you rarely hear, with the confidence to build in meaningful pauses that emphasised the beauty of its theme. And the fourth movement was delivered with such power and a sense of triumph that you had to hold back a desire to sing along! The whole orchestra gave a tremendous performance, and you have to congratulate the percussion for the perfect precision playing of possibly the most significant use of the triangle in all classical music!

It’s always a delight and a privilege to see the Royal Philharmonic on tour. They return to Northampton in May for a performance of Verdi’s Requiem – can’t wait!

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Phil Wang, Wang in There Baby!, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 20th February 2024

Another of these shows that were postponed due to the presence of RAAC lurking at the theatre, this is (at least) the third time that Phil Wang has played the Royal and Derngate, but, shamefully, only the first time we’ve seen him. A familiar face on Have I Got News For You and similar TV treats, does he spin the same comedy gold that he shares on television? All will be revealed…

But first, the warm-up act, and the imposing figure and voice of Ed Night; new to us, and he looks like he’s probably about 15 but awfully tall for his age. In fact he’s been doing comedy for ten years and has already had four Edinburgh shows – and you can tell the confidence and experience. He clearly has a very fast brain and the ability to connect well with the audience. It was a shame, then, that he started his set with some very dubious material about mental health and an old joke about OCD that didn’t appeal to me at all and also didn’t hit home with the crowd. However, as he warmed up, so did his material and I loved his observations about Scooby Doo and the way he completely abandoned his prepared material to investigate the presence of three shiny bald heads in the front row. There’s a lot of good comedy in Mr Night – he just needs to ditch the iffy stuff.

On to the main event, and Wang in There Baby, Phil Wang’s most recent tour show that started last March and just has one more airing on 23rd February at London’s Eventim Apollo, no less. Performing in front of unfurled, Chinese-influenced, banner flags artistically announcing his name, his quiet unassuming style and relaxed physical presence lull us all into a sense of security – not a false sense, as Mr Wang never leads us down surprise garden paths or tricks us into believing something that he then proves to be untrue. You sense he’s a truly honest performer!

He’s excellent at contrasting the two cultures that he knows about – his Malay/Chinese upbringing on the island of Borneo, and the southern English teenage years and adulthood that followed. He’s also a choice wordsmith; developing very cleverly prepared sequences with le mot juste for every occasion. This allows him to tackle some quite challenging subjects but always with delicacy and lightness of touch: no better example than his singing along to Kendrick Lamar hip-hop tracks replacing the n-word with something more suitable.

Phil Wang’s gift is to take a genuinely tiny idea and expand it into something hilarious for a prolonged exploration. For him, big oaks truly do grow from little acorns. The simple observation that Brits don’t reheat rice, for instance, flourishes into a good fifteen minutes’ worth of classic cultural comedy. There’s a brilliant examination of how the contrast between British and American pronunciation of the same word can have a joyfully funny effect. At his best, Mr W is a great example of the less is more approach to comedy, and that’s often quite hard to find. And whilst I wouldn’t exactly call it a family show, it’s very refreshing to come across a comedy performer who rarely goes anywhere near a swear word.

Having seen him once, I’m sure this won’t be the last time!

Review – Pierre Novellie, Why Can’t I Just Enjoy Nice Things? Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 18th February 2024

Do you ever get the feeling that some things are just Not Meant To Be? Pierre Novellie’s performance of his Why Can’t I Just Enjoy Nice Things? tour was originally scheduled for last November in the Underground but postponed due to the ongoing fight against the RAAC in the building. Moved to February, it then had to be transferred first to the Royal, and then to the relatively unlikely venue of Screen Two at the adjacent Northampton Filmhouse. A stand-up show in a plush, luxury cinema screen? Surely the vibe won’t work. Update:  a good comedian will make this venue work absolutely fine!

Then, seven minutes before whatever is the stand-up equivalent of Curtain Up, the fire alarms sound. Evacuation from the building; not only Screen Two, but also Screen One and the Derngate auditorium, where one can only assume the pyrotechnics of The Greatest Hits of Motown got a little out of hand. Very well marshalled and looked after by the R&D staff by the way, top marks to you all. False alarm; we all returned to our seats. Thus Pierre Novellie’s show battled on bravely, fifteen minutes late in an unconventional venue. Then it became clear that his microphone didn’t work properly. Mr Novellie’s rich dulcet tones were coming across all tinny and that would have been tough for an hour and twenty minutes. Then he tried dispensing with the microphone completely – fine for us in the third row but perhaps not so great if you were at the back. Ten minutes later a replacement microphone was found. Result – success! And then the show could really get going. But that was a difficult start for Mr N and a less experienced comic could well have been thrown by it all.

But not Pierre Novellie. He has a smart, confident air about him without ever suggesting anything pompous or condescending; naturally likeable, he gets a very good rapport going with the audience which quickly overcame any of the shortcomings of the venue. Why Can’t I Just Enjoy Nice Things? was his Edinburgh Fringe show from 2022, and he explained that our performance would be its final outing.

The title of his show echoes the internal questionings that try to explain and rationalise what’s going in his head. He’s a 60% man; that’s the percentage at which he tends to appreciate things. To him that’s an honest and perfectly decent satisfaction level; the same as six out of ten, or three (maybe three and a half) stars on an advertising billboard, signifying a completely agreeable experience. But, as he points out, that’s a score that’s of no use to anyone. He also knows that when you’re asked, in a romantic setting, what are you thinking about, the last thing you must reply is the truth – i.e. nothing, which is absolutely what nearly all men are thinking about most of the time.

This is intelligent, sophisticated comedy, full of great observations and reflections covering a wide range of subjects that include the crying-laughing emoji and Berlin’s notorious P*ss Goblin (Google it if you dare). He has a beautifully narrated experience of attending a performance of The Play That Goes Wrong seated next to the audience member from Hell, and a unique way of defining the public that manages to exclude us from it so that we remain on “his side” of the argument throughout. I also loved his account of how accurately you set your morning alarm when you go to bed really late – and the downside of so doing; it’s something that everyone can recognise.

It’s a superbly crafted show elegantly delivered using pinpoint perfect language selected to have the maximum effect. Mr N is truly on the up-and-up; he’s already touring again with last year’s Edinburgh Fringe hit, Why Are You Laughing? I think the answer to that question would be obvious.

Review – The Mousetrap, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 12th February 2024

The Mousetrap? I hear you ask. That old thing? Why should I want to go and see that creaky old relic? And if you’ve a cynical nature to your character and a sense that theatre should somehow be improving or character-building, then you may have a point. Agatha Christie herself said that its success was largely due to luck, but that it is a play that has something for everyone. In her autobiography, she wrote: “it is well constructed. The thing unfolds so that you want to know what happens next, and you can’t quite see where the next few minutes will lead you.” Christie is being quite modest here!

The play is the result of a distillation of ideas that all started when Christie wrote a radio play entitled Three Blind Mice at the request of Queen Mary in 1947. When Queen Mary requested something, you delivered. This led on to a short story of the same name published in the United States in 1950, which was further adapted and tightened up into The Mousetrap that everyone knows today. The short story, incidentally, has still not officially appeared in the UK because Christie didn’t want it published until after the original run of The Mousetrap had ended; and, of course, that hasn’t happened yet! And this 70th anniversary tour, currently at the Royal and Derngate all week, is now 72 years from the original production, currently at London’s St Martin’s Theatre, where House Full notices are still regularly posted each night. This play is not going to go away anytime soon.

Obviously, I’m not going to tell you whodunit – we are all sworn to secrecy! However, I can tell you that young Mollie and Giles Ralston have set up a guest house, Monkswell Manor, to make a living for themselves in the harsh austere days after the Second World War. They have four guests booked in for their opening week: grumpy Mrs Boyle, military Major Metcalf, effete Christopher Wren and no-nonsense Miss Casewell; a fifth (Mr Paravicini) turns up unexpectedly, and the house is cut off in a heavy snowstorm. The radio (sorry, wireless) carries the news that a Mrs Lyon has been murdered in Culver Street, London, and that police have a description of a man they want to interview who was seen in the vicinity. Detective Sergeant Trotter arrives at Monkswell Manor seeking information that might connect the Culver Street murder with someone there. But who?

The story was based on the real life case of Dennis O’Neill, a twelve year old foster child who had died in 1945 from violence and neglect at the hands of his foster parents, which led to an overhaul of the fostering legislation in 1947. Dennis’ brother Terence was also malnourished and severely beaten, but fortunately survived. The early drafts of the play included an opening scene, set in London, with extra characters, telling the story of the death of Mrs Lyon. This scene was shortened, and eventually deleted, to be replaced by a simple blackout at the beginning of the play that sets the scene very crisply.

Whilst there have been regular attempts to update the text in the past – increasing money values, changing dates etc – today it is very much performed as a period piece and exactly how Christie originally intended it. Mollie and Giles are still trying to make ends meet with odds and ends of furniture and doing all the work required to run their little guest house in 1952, with post-war austerity and rationing still affecting everyone.  The coke they need to shovel to make the heating work is expensive and poor quality. Trotter says he will check everyone’s ration books to verify their identities. Mrs Boyle sums it up nicely: “this country has gone sadly downhill. Not what it used to be. I sold my house last year. Everything was too difficult.”

Despite its obvious old-fashioned nature, it is a beautifully structured play, designed to establish the greatest possible tension and growing suspicions of everyone – and the solution to the crime holds water too. The characters are a little stereotypical but they’re not at all caricatures, and each one is sufficiently believable to take the audience along for the ride. And there were many moments during Monday evening’s press performance when you could hear a pin drop in the packed auditorium, such was the level of concentration and almost tangible suspense.

However, from a technical point of view, Monday’s performance had a bit of an Act One nightmare: the sound plot simply didn’t work. The opening sound effects of the murder of Mrs Lyon didn’t play. Mollie answered the phone when it wasn’t ringing. Characters turned on the wireless, and no sound came out. Unfortunately, the play relies on the wireless and sound effects a good deal for its opening exposition. Hats off to the excellent cast who carried on regardless, including missing out a brief conversation between Wren and Casewell when they discuss how they used the noise from the wireless deliberately to annoy Mrs Boyle. Luckily, the sound came back shortly before the interval. Additionally, the amplification of the actors’ voices had a bizarre echo/reverb at times which was very disconcerting. Hopefully these issues are now ironed out.

In a show of such reputation as this, the cast are always the custodians of the work, who must look after the production and keep it in good health for future generations. That’s certainly the case here; the cast put in great performances all round. Shaun McCourt is superb in the difficult role of Christopher Wren, trying to make this – on the face of it – rather silly, flippant, overdone character into a credible human being which he does admirably. Todd Carty teeters on the edge of making Metcalf a caricature but reins it in at exactly the right moments. Amy Spinks gives a definitive performance as Miss Casewell, the bullet-proof exterior giving way to genuine emotion when faced with the truth; and Michael Ayiotis is splendid as Trotter, giving a very fluid and confident performance as the police officer with rather alternative methods of detection, building up to a riveting showdown scene. But everyone pulls out all the stops and makes this a thrilling and convincing production.

72 years on, it’s still amazing to hear audience members at the end saying I didn’t see that coming, I thought X had done it, well I thought Y had done it and so on. It may not be the best play in the world. It may, indeed, not even be Agatha Christie’s best play! But as a well-told, finely structured classic whodunit, balanced with a fascinating insight into early 1950s Britain, it just has that certain something that makes it unbeatable. After its week in Northampton, the tour continues throughout England, Scotland and Ireland until August.

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Sarah Millican, Late Bloomer, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 24th January 2024

When Sarah Millican graces the stage of the Derngate auditorium it’s always something to look forward to – often for at least a year! This is the fourth time we’ve seen her, and each time she packs out the audience, delivering what you can only describe as an abundance of joy. For her latest show, Late Bloomer, she hangs the concept on the show on whether you were a late bloomer (as which she identifies) or an eager beaver, and Ms M has a handy list of clues to help you assess whereabouts on the scale you are. I too identified as a late bloomer, but with little tinges of eager beaverness around the edges.

Through the course of a couple of hours, she explores all sorts of domestic and – let’s not beat about the bush (one of her favourite words) – sexual situations. A night with Sarah Millican is not for the prudish. If you’re expecting a discourse on culture and the arts, you might be a trifle disappointed. You will, however, get great insight into the various levels of painful or excitable reactions that her vagina undertakes on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Not that she often calls it a vagina, mind you. I did reflect with some amusement how different it would be if a bloke came on stage to a house packed full of mainly blokes and spent two hours discussing the various shenanigans his willy got up to on the average day.

However, the boot’s on the other foot, and Sarah Millican is the supreme creative artist where it comes to the comedy of womanly woes. No aspect of the female anatomy is taboo as she mines terrific laughs out of sizes and shapes, sweatiness, smells and all manner of bodily fluids.

We explored the weird content of other people’s bags; those items that were confessed to on Wednesday were two mint tea bags, a podger (they really exist), and a “cock bottle opener.” After some questioning, Ms Millican elicited that this was a bottle opener that looked like a cock as opposed an opener for a “cock bottle”. We learned about the unexpected downside of switching your mobile provider to O2. The ladies in the audience (who were by far in the majority) were asked to grade the underwear they were wearing on the night from 1 (new) to 6 (far from new). Mrs Chrisparkle quietly admitted to a 2. We heard about how an orgy could resemble a car park (you had to be there) and the only possible reason for carrying some stilton around with you.

Sarah Millican treads a tightrope of material that is hugely larger than life and accentuates the utter ridiculousness of the human condition – yet at the same time is completely believable and recognisable, so that the audience rises to the challenge of becoming its own self-help group. For two hours she has us in the palm of her hand. She’d probably then clean us off with a wet wipe because we were sticky and disgusting.

Late Bloomer enjoys two nights at the Royal and Derngate this January and is returning in September, but there are only a handful of seats left for that gig. The tour continues throughout the UK and Ireland and a few Europe dates as well, right through to November. She may be a late bloomer but she’s making the most of it now.

Review – Spymonkey’s The Frogs, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 23rd January 2024

Let’s start with a quiz question. Who were the first comedy double act in the business? Morecambe and Wise? Laurel and Hardy? Nowhere close. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza? Keep going back. Not even Beowulf and Grendel, and there weren’t many laughs there. Believe it or not,  you’re looking at Dionysus and Xanthias, the loveable rogues who star in Aristophanes’ The Frogs, first performed in 405 BC. Stage Tragedy was going through a bit of a tragic phase (sorry) with the death of Euripedes the previous year. So Dionysus and Xanthias his servant decide to get off their backsides and travel to Hades to bring him back. As you do.

Dionysus and CharonOf course, the journey is beset with obstacles, like Charon the ferry(wo)man, a bunch of singing frogs, and the grumpy Aeacus who guards Pluto’s gates. Possibly it wasn’t Dionysus’ best idea to disguise himself as Heracles for the journey, because Aeacus has a long memory and vengeance to seek against with him. Eventually they get in, only to find a debate taking place between Euripedes and Aeschylus, vying for the title of Best Tragic Poet. In the end, Dionysus prefers Aeschylus and rescues him back to Athens instead. What a fickle half God he is.

It’s written by Spymonkey and Carl Grose, “with massive apologies to Aristophanes”. However, I’m not sure those apologies are needed. From a story-telling point of view, this production recreates the original in a bizarrely faithful way, mutatis mutandis naturally. True, it loses the plot – quite literally – towards the end, but the journey to Hades, the relationship between master and servant, the swapping of clothing (pure Prince Charming and Dandini, to be honest) and getting past the gates all work pretty well.

Meet HeraclesI’ve always been a massive fan of Spymonkey, and it’s been one of the pleasures of regularly visiting the Royal and Derngate that the two have worked together so successfully over the years. Oedipussy, Cooped, Every Last Trick and The Complete Deaths, all bring back happy memories of laughing until it hurts. But it surprised me to discover that I hadn’t seen them since 2016, and a lot has changed since then. The long-lasting partnership of four performers is now reduced to two. Petra Massey is described as “on loan to Las Vegas”, so I guess she’s living the high life now. Gifted and fearless clown Stephan Kreiss sadly died in 2021. And, despite their best efforts, the two leave a massive hole on the Spymonkey map.

At the officeA Spymonkey show is never just about the show itself. It’s about how Spymonkey create the show and how the performers react to being in it. Unsurprisingly, there’s a considerable side spin to this production where the remaining performers, Spymonkey boss Toby Park and Spanish Supremo Aitor Basauri, are working out how they can continue as a twosome. They decide to adapt The Frogs to become a rescue mission for Stephan – to hell with Euripedes (literally), he’s old hat after all. Their Brighton office – which we see as a scene between the scenes – has become a shrine to their departed friend. Aitor briefly recreates Stephan’s staircase trick (Moby Dick refers). Toby plays and sings along to mournful music. However, for whatever reason, this impetus to remember Stephan comes across as an intrusion into private grief, and not an inspiration for the anarchic comedy with which we associate the company.

Pluto's GatesUnfortunately this also has a knock-on effect of making the third member of the cast, Jacoba Williams, feel like “the extra brought in” rather than an integral part of the team. Dionysus, Xanthias, Toby and Aitor have, between the four of them, formed a boy’s club, with Jacoba constantly tapping on the outside trying to get in. I’m sure this is not deliberate, but it’s inevitable that she does not have the same level of inter-performer trust that Toby and Aitor have. They’ve been inseparable on stage for decades, after all. Nowhere is this more evident than in the final scene where Jacoba walks off the stage and into the audience for no apparent reason and watches the two boys finish the show without her. It feels very unbalanced.

FrogsNevertheless, there is still much to enjoy. Toby Park still embodies his traditional Spymonkey role of classical artiste with pretensions of adequacy, and Aitor Basauri can still make you split your sides with just one glance of those knowing eyes, such as in the excellent opening scene where Toby and Jacoba start up a nonsensical chorus whilst Aitor looks on in disbelief, only for him to then join in. Jacoba revels in some entertaining characterisations, including a no-nonsense Charon and a hearty Heracles, and she indulges in an enjoyable, if curtailed, TED talk. It’s full of comic business as you would expect, such as when Aitor has a bucket list of things to do on stage which he determinedly ticks off as he goes. And Jacoba has plenty of opportunities to have fun with the dressing-up box. Members of the Community theatre play the eponymous frogs who tap dance and sing their way across the stage; they make for a sweetly graceful troupe, if slightly self-consciously so.

I always associate Spymonkey with slick anarchy; here the anarchy is present, but the slickness is missing. I saw the final preview as opposed to the press night, so I appreciate there is room for it to be tightened up, but I fear there is quite a long way to go. For me, the show just doesn’t quite work, despite many of the elements being right. Hopefully it’s just a phase for the company and they bounce back with something more polished and assured next time around.

Production photos by Manuel Harlan

3-stars