Tag Archives: London

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 – 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 – Les Miserables, Sondheim Theatre, London, 6th February 2025

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When there are countless new productions coming up every week worthy of one’s theatre ticket budget, it might seem strange to go back to a few old favourites once in a while, just to check up on them and see how they’re getting on, like an elderly relative who’s beginning to lose the ability to look after themselves properly. Thus we decided to pay a visit to Les Miserables at the Queens’, I mean Sondheim, Theatre, to see if, forty years on, it’s still in rude health.

It’s misleading to think of it as forty years, as this is the “new” version of the show, directed by Laurence Connor and James Powell, which Mrs Chrisparkle and I were lucky to catch in swanky New York ten years ago. That performance blew our minds, having seen the original version back in 1986 and, frankly, not liking it much; I think you need to have experienced a few hardships in life to truly appreciate Les Mis. Bizarrely, we also saw it at the Leicester Curve in 2018, in a production that completely escapes my memory.onnor and Powell zipped the original up and smartened it out, creating a more vivid show; even though it still lasts just short of three hours, it’s incredibly pacey. When Marius tosses a stone at Cosette’s window she bursts forward to see him instantly, even before gravity has had time for the stone to hit the floor. There’s no hanging about here.

One might not expect a Thursday matinee in February to be full, but so packed was the Sondheim Theatre that there was hardly room for an underfed Parisien street urchin to sneak in. Steward Morley’s fantastic orchestra give the performance of their lives as they emote Claude-Michel Schönberg’s luscious score;crammed full of leitmotifs, and not a note wasted. Matt Kinley’s superb set spills out into the boxes at the side of the stage, recreating the terror of the prisoner labour ship, the grimness of the factories, the grandeur of Valjean’s house and the makeshift mess that represents the barricades. I was struck – perhaps for the first time – by how effective it is, to regularly contrast an elaborate set, such as the ship, with the simplicity of just a table with two candles, such as represents the Bishop of Digne’s humble home.

I know of no other show that can produce audience sobs out of thin air with the ease that Les Mis does. Spoiler alert, soz (but where have you been for the last forty years?) the first tremors of emotion come with Fantine on her death bed, and of course there’s always a gulp at Eponine’s On My Own. But it’s Bring Him Home that opens the floodgates, with alikely trigger at Empty Chairs at Empty Tables, and flat out wailing when the ghosts of Fantine and Eponine come to welcome the dying Valjean out of this world and into a better place. Paule Constable’s stunning lighting design and Finn Ross’ video projections also add to many of these moments, notably Javert tumbling to his death in the Seine, and that amazing second or two when Gavroche’s lifeless body is captured in a crosshair of bright light; they truly take your breath away.

Changes of cast occur from season to season, and the current cast is full of star turns. Ian McIntosh, whom I’ve only ever seen before giving brilliant supporting performances in iffy touring musical productions, portrays a Valjean of valour, nobility and the most exquisitely tender voice. It’s not just the sentiment of Bring Him Home that makes us go wobbly at the knees, it’s that purity and clarity with which he delivers those most immaculate of notes.His nemesis, Javert, is played by Stewart Clarke, whose powerful voice is put to great use, suggesting the character’s bullying and intimidating nature. I’ve seen Mr Clarke many times before on stage and he always nails those imposing, ruthless roles; but I wished for a little more light and shade in his portrayal of Javert. His face is set to one expression throughout – grimace – which only begins to soften in his final moments. You never get the sense that this Javert questions his motives or beliefs for one instant. I know; call me picky.

The three main female roles are all superbly performed. Lucie Jones’ Fantine is a terrific portrayal of decency destroyed by circumstances, giving us a delicate and almost intimate performance of the classic I Dreamed A Dream. Annabelle Aquino plays Cosette with a brightness of spirit and a heart of gold; andAmena El-Kindy pulls out all the stops as her Eponine delivers a soaring On My Own, making the best of observing Marius’ devotion to Cosette on the sidelines, just so that she can be in his company.

Jacob Dachtler’s unswervingly brave and noble Marius is a perfect match for Cosette; he nicely brings out the emotional content in his songs extremely well and is very believable in the role. Robson Broad’s Enjolras is a triumph of heroism, with an amazing stage presence and a wonderful voice which helps those powerful but brief songs, Red/Black and Do You Hear The People Sing, linger on in our minds long after curtain down.

But the secret ingredient of this current production is the inspired casting of Luke Kempner and Claire Machin as the Thénardiers. Crowd pleasers from the start, their physical comedy is outstanding, and their comic bickering is credible rather than just being pure pantomime.Along with the rest of the ensemble, their on stage activity for Master of the House is immaculately timed with hilarious shenanigans complementing the music perfectly. The audience adores them.

I genuinely had no idea I was going to enjoy this show again as much as I did. If you’ve never seen it, what are you waiting for? And if you have, you’ll be delighted to know it’s as great as ever.

 

 

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Robin Hood, London Palladium, 29th December 2024

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Attending the annual pantomime at the London Palladium has been a highlight of my year since childhood, and as the years go by that excitement has let up not one jot. For Christmas 2024, Crossroads Pantomimes have given us Robin Hood, and of course no expense has been spared to make this even more lavish, spectacular, colourful and, let’s face it, excessive than previous years.

This is the first time that perennial pleasure Julian Clary has ever embodied the eponymous character role at the Palladium panto. He’s still as delighted as ever to receive a warm hand upon his entrance, but he yields top billing to Channel 5 Cruising Superstar (I think that’s how he announces her) Jane McDonald, who, as Maid Marion, brings her own special musical magic to the show.

Most of the other usual suspects are there – Nigel Havers, getting progressively more teased every year about appearing yet again (at his age, I ask you), Paul Zerdin (plus Sam) getting the kids on his side (we’re all kids at the Palladium panto), as well as more recent treasures Charlie Stemp and Rob Madge. Missing in action this year is Gary Wilmot (currently to be found in the company of Robert Bolt’s Man for all Seasons as the Common Man touring to a theatre near you shortly) but instead we are blessed with the vivacious and officially fabulous Marisha Wallace as the Sheriff of Nottingham and the whopping great presence of Tosh Wanogho-Maud as the mischievously cast Little John.

Sometimes the Palladium pantos make some kind of narrative sense; sometimes they’re just a serving suggestion of a story. This year most of the plot makes hardly any sense at all, but nobody minds. I can’t remember what the excuse for the 3D sequence is, but it is very exciting – Straight Outta Disneyland, in fact. And there is a ten-part If I were not upon the stage something else I’d rather be fugue sequence performed as exquisitely as ever by Messrs Clary, Stemp, Havers, Zerdin and Wanogho-Maud, and is the true highlight of the show; what Little John does with his truncheon is, frankly, obscene, but hilarious. The other standout moments for me are Jane McDonald singing You’re My World from her castle dungeon – an immaculate song sung immaculately – and Charlie Stemp leading the villagers with a rousing Sherwood Forest version of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’s Me Old Bamboo.

But I must be honest, gentle reader; something about this panto doesn’t quite gel, and, amazing to relate, this was the only one of the four shows I saw over the Christmas period that didn’t get a standing ovation – something you would normally expect as automatic for the Palladium panto. Because Robin Hood doesn’t end with a Royal Wedding (unusual for a Panto), the curtain call comes along as something of a surprise, and I don’t think theaudience is ready for it; you feel like there should be just one more scene somehow. And certain aspects of the show don’t quite land as well as they normally do. For me there is a certain degree of miscasting this year and a couple of performers who are at the top of their careers just didn’t feel comfortable in some of their scenes. And there isn’t enough Sam! We welcome Mr Z  (as Will Scarlet) on stage many times but rarely in the company of his other half.

Don’t get me wrong, this is still a hugely enjoyable and all-round gigantic production, full of music and laughter; but for me it wasn’t quite up to the same high standard as previous years. You won’t keep me away from next year’s production though!

 

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – The Importance of Being Earnest, National Theatre Lyttelton, 28th December 2024

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Oscar Wilde has always been known for the vivacity of both his writing and his lifestyle. If ever there was an early exponent of today’s you do you message, it’s Wilde. Max Webster’s brilliant vision for this new production of The Importance of Being Earnest is to highlight its celebration of all things gay which has been hiding in plain sight all these years. It’s both fascinating and laudable to see that he achieves this with the minimal amount of liberty-taking with Wilde’s original text.I was expecting something along the lines of Zinnie Harris’ rewriting of The Duchess (of Malfi) as seen recently at the Trafalgar theatre; clever, but merely a serving suggestion of John Webster’s text. Here, there is no need to make changes what Wilde has already written; just a few tiny modern additions bring it forward 130 years (yes it really did first appear in 1895) and it’s as fresh and as funny as it ever was.

In fact, dare I say it, even more so. Algernon Moncrieff (but we can call him Algy) is still living a debauched, carefree existence in town without the means to pay for it and getting out of commitments he doesn’t fancy by pretending his ill friend Bunbury needs his attention. Jack is still his bestie, subsidising Algy’s appetite for the good life, and using their association to get closer to Algy’s cousin Gwendolen with whom he is passionately in love. Except… there’s no doubt here that Algy and Jack’s relationship goes a lot deeper than this, even if Jack isn’t fully aware of it (Algy certainly is). It’s also delightfully balanced by a similar recognition between Gwendolen and Jack’s ward Cecily; their sudden friendship, then enmity, then friendship again is clearly more than mere girl power.

What’s extraordinary in this production is that all this is done with the utmost lightness of touch. There’s no heavy-handedness or labouring any of the points it wishes to make; nothing is forced, it’s all purely natural. And you feel that Webster’s version has truly lifted the lid on this perpetually marvellous play and delved even deeper. It’s like finishing the first tray of a box of chocolates only to discover there’s a whole new selection of goodies in the tray underneath.

I’m unwilling to spoil any of the surprises in the production, although it is bookended by two truly fabulous flights of fancy with a very pink first scene – the official production photos reveal this very unusual opening – and an outrageously over the top curtain call. Even then, it’s stunning how Algy’s Liberace moment melds perfectly into his opening conversation with his manservant Lane. For all its 100% gayness, the production simply works on every level and remains remarkably truthful to the original.

But here’s a few titillating moments to with which to tease you: watch out for Algy’s unsuppressed reaction when he discovers that Cecily is worth £130,000 in the Funds, and the initial letters of the volumes that Jack pulls out of the library when he’s looking for the Army Lists. Laugh too at the list of bills Algy tears up at the end of Act One, and the perfectly chosen extracts of modern songs that occasionally appear throughout the show. Normally I bridle at anachronistic use of music in a play but here it works hilariously well.

Beautifully staged, with a superb set and costume design by Rae Smith (Algy’s first act suit must be worth thousands), the famous handbag is given pride of place on entering the auditorium, only to be gently whisked away and concealed till needed; when it does return, it appears literally as a deus ex machina. And Max Webster has assembled a dream ensemble who exceed all expectations in their perfectly cast roles.

Heading the cast is Sharon D Clarke as Lady Bracknell, a terrifyingly no-nonsense Caribbean matriarch who relishes every sentence and always takes complete control of the situation, even when things take unexpected turns. Whatever preconceptions you may have of how Lady Bracknell should speak or appear, prepare to be amazed at Ms Clarke’s performance.

I’ve only seen Ncuti Gatwa on TV as Doctor Who and didn’t know what to expect from him as a stage performer, but I was literally blown away. He has truly incredible charisma, filling the theatre with joy by his facial expressions, perfect comic timing and extraordinary versatility. I’ve never been so surprised to see an actor do something so unexpectedly delightful, and I can’t wait to follow his stage career in future. He’s perfectly matched by a brilliant comic performance by Hugh Skinner who again I only know from TV’s W1A. He gives a fantastic physicality to his performance, with a totally convincing characterisation, stuffed with endless comedy highlights.

The other superb comic performance comes from Ronkẹ Adékoluẹjo as Gwendolen, gleefully playing up to both Jack and Cecily with barely concealed sexual excitement, a total powerhouse of activity and comic inventiveness. Eliza Scanlen’s Cecily gives a terrific portrayal of a not-quite-spoilt young woman finding her way in the world, Amanda Lawrence gives us a rather wretched Miss Prism clinging on to respectability when she is so publicly shamed, Richard Cant’s Chasuble is a splendidly earnest (there’s that wordagain) chap who holds a very bright candle for Prism indeed, and Julian Bleach’s two butler manservants are so very differently characterised – his lolloping Merriman is a feat of comic genius in itself.

One of those magic theatrical experiences where you simply run out of superlatives. Ernest, Jack and Algy are alive and well and not just living but thriving on the South Bank. The Importance of Being Earnest is playing until 25 January, but many of the remaining performances are sold out – and it hits the cinemas from 20th February. You’ve seen reviews of plays that claim “it’s a revelation” – this time it really is.

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake The Next Generation, Sadler’s Wells, London, 27th December 2024

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By my reckoning, this is the eighth time of seeing Matthew Bourne’s groundbreaking Swan Lake at a theatre, which doesn’t include the countless times we’ve watched the DVD. It’s unquestionably the single most significant dance production I’ve ever seen, and I would probably guess would be in my top ten stage experiences of all time. So you know already, gentle reader, that it’s five stars from me without scrolling to the end.

But this new production has a few notable changes. It’s styled as Swan Lake The Next Generation because, as Matthew Bourne points out in his programme note, he “wanted to reflect on what [this production] could mean for the dancers and audiences of the future… this is the first revival of Swan Lake where all our principal dancers have come up through the ranks of New Adventures on other productions, as we nurture their talents as leading artists ready to take on such iconic and demanding roles.”

But this isn’t the only change from previous productions. Over the years subtle alterations to the choreography and presentation have developed; the disco scene is performed at a more hectic pace than in the earlier days and some of its (much loved I have to say) characters have moved on; we no longer have the character of the Young Prince in the opening scenes –it’s the same Prince all the way through now. Subtle changes to the final scene choreography make it (for me at least) less creepy when the swans emerge from the Prince’s bed. That said, the array of mini-dramas exposed amongst the guests at the Royal ball are performed with possibly more zest than ever before, bringing a number of fascinating extra insights to that scene.

But the most compelling change with this production is (finally!) the addition of a live orchestra. It’s most welcome to see this change at a time when live music in the theatre (particularly in dance) is fighting for its existence (Northern Ballet take note) and Benjamin Pope’s 25-musician-strong orchestra transforms the experience. Not only does the live orchestra create more possibilities for an individual moment to be performed at a slightly different pace depending on the reactions of the audience, the playing can also adapt to the different strengths of and interpretations by the various dancers. Whatever the reasons, it certainly adds a new and exciting dimension to the work as a whole.

The roles are all shared by between two and four individual dancers, which brings with it its own creative and practical benefits. It goes without saying that technically they’re all outstanding, and it’s a total masterclass in the contemporary ballet style for which Matthew Bourne is rightly praised. At the performance we saw, the Prince was danced by Leonardo McCorkindale, a very bright-eyed and open-faced dancer who gave us perhaps a more optimistic and positive characterisation than I have seen before; this works extremely well in Act Two, when the Prince genuinely finds his true self in partnership with the Swan.

Our Swan/Stranger was danced by Jackson Fisch, who gave us a powerful, charismatic and, yes, loving Swan as well as a delightfully insolent Stranger. Our Queen was Nicole Kabera, and the Girlfriend Katrina Lyndon, precisely the same casting as when we last saw the show in 2018, and they still bring the same superb characterisations – the man-hungry, heartless queen and the common-as-muck girlfriend who despises getting caught up in the Royal household’s duplicitous scheming. And our Private Secretary was danced by James Lovell, an extremely believable characterisation, delighting in leading that wonderfully louche dance at the ball with that mischievously beckoning hand at the hip.

At last glance the entire run at Sadler’s Wells has sold out, so that tells its own story of how successful this show is. But don’t worry if you haven’t seen it, this production is never going to go away, and indeed is touring the UK and Ireland until June. And of course, it is a must-see!

 

Five Alive, Let Dance Thrive!

Review – Titanique, Criterion Theatre, London, 27th December 2024

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Titanique sails into London riding the crest of a wave of compliments from its productions off-Broadway, in Australia and in Canada. With a preview schedule almost longer than James Cameron’s original film, and very decently priced seats for the West End, it was the perfect choice for the first show of our post-Christmas London theatre splurge. Talking of the film, we’d never seen it (yes, I know) and decided that we should watch it before seeing this show – and it was the wisest of moves. If you’ve never seen Titanic, Titanique will make little sense. However, if you have seen it, you’ll realise that this is a dream of a parody show that hits the ground (sea?) running and never lets up with its amazing energy and blistering humour for a full 100 minutes and no interval.

The premise is, admittedly, bizarre. Suspend your disbelief and imagine that one of the passengers on the Titanic’s one and only sailing was Canada’s gift to the world of showbusiness, Celine Dion. Let’s face it, it would have been the perfect journey for such a top celeb. Celine takes us through those fateful few days of navigational disaster, introducing us to Rose (Kat Ronney), Jack (Rob Houchen), the ghastly Cal (Jordan Luke Gage), the unsinkable Molly (Charlotte Wakefield) and Rose’s awful mum Ruth (Stephen Guarino).The ship builder, played in the film by Victor Garber, is here played as Victor Garber (played by Darren Bennett); the iceberg, portrayed in the film as an early CGI piece of cellophane, is here represented with much more pizzazz by Layton Williams. We also get to meet Peabo Bryson, Tina Turner, and Luigi from Super Mario, and are treated to several numbers from the Celine Dion playlist, although I can’t recall her version of Who Let The Dogs Out. All very 1912, as I’m sure you’ll agree.

The only thing this show lacks is subtlety; everything else it has in abundance. Adam Wachter’s four-piece band produces more depth, volume and musical brilliance than you can imagine, filling every inch of the intimate setting of the Criterion Theatre. There’s a bright and inviting set, the costumes and lighting are excellent, and the use of props hilarious – we finally get to discover what the original use was for that vital door that eventually carries our heroine Rose to safety (you’ll never guess). And the eight-strong cast all put in an extraordinary performance of commitment, comedy and incredible musicality.

For our performance, Celine Dion was played by understudy Kristina Walz and she is stunning. Her portrayal is so accurate, so mischievous, yet so affectionate too, that La Dion could have been in the room. I’ve never really been that fond of My Heart Will Go On (I’m more of a Think Twice man, personally) but she gave it such power and meaning that I’ve had to change my mind. It’s a brilliant performance. Musically, every single member of the cast gives a truly star performance that it takes your breathaway – Jordan Luke Gage has a superb voice that comes through in every number, Charlotte Wakefield’s All By Myself is stunning and Layton Williams channelling his Tina Turner with an incredible River Deep Mountain High is probably the highlight of the show. Stephen Guarino’s endless bitchy asides as the dreadful Ruth keep you in stitches, but the whole cast perform with such heart and a thrilling enjoyment of what they are doing that you feel yourself tingle with pleasure throughout the show.

Yes, there were one or two punchlines that didn’t quite work but that’s the beauty of an extended preview run, and I am sure that when the show is fully established this will be an unmissable winner. Currently scheduled to run until the end of March, but surely that will be extended. A lethal combination of musical brilliance and comic genius, and I can’t wait to go again.

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Waiting for Godot, Theatre Royal Haymarket, London, 25th September 2024

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From today’s viewpoint, it’s hard to imagine the effect of Beckett’s Waiting for Godot on its original 1953 French audience. On those opening performances, many people left at the interval, or jeered it for its nonsense; one evening the audience broke into a fight as those who hated it clashed with those who defended it. And of course the scandal of this outrageous play just made it more attractive to those curious to see what all the fuss was about.

Its 1955 London premiere was equally divisive, with the likes of Harold Hobson and Kenneth Tynan understanding its value whilst all the other critics dismissed it. Seventy years on, the play still has the power to divide and befuddle; a) because on the face of it, it’s  incomprehensible nonsense and b) because it demands that you read interpretations into it that may not necessarily be there. Is Godot God? Beckett said that if he’d meant Godot to represent God, he’d have called him God. When Ralph Richardson asked Beckett to give him a little more about Pozzo’s back story, he replied that everything he knew about Pozzo was in the text – if he’d known more, he’d have written more. Beckett insists that you appreciate the play as he has written it – no need to imbue it with other meanings.

What really offended the theatregoers of the time – in my humble opinion – was the in-your-face recognition of human frailty and disgusting bodily functions. Whilst the works of Coward and Rattigan, for example, may well have dealt with mental frailty, anything lavatorial or for Doctor’s ears only was kept well away from their sensibilities. Beckett’s characters are not so coy. One with stinking feet, one with stinking breath; one with a constant need to urinate, one happy to eat chicken bones off the floor. Fortunately for those easily offended 1950s theatregoers, the censor removed Vladimir’s reference to an erection, and Mrs Gozzo’s suffering from clap was replaced by warts, bless her.

In a nutshell: two men wait by a tree – they’re waiting for Godot. Two other men appear, one controlled by the other by means of rope; after some debate, they depart. At the end of the evening, a boy arrives to tell them that Godot won’t come today, but surely he will tomorrow. Then there’s the interval. And then it all happens again. It sounds like the epitome of stasis, but a lot happens between the two Acts. Overnight, Estragon has been beaten up. The tree has sprouted leaves. Pozzo and Lucky enter the stage from the opposite direction, and Lucky’s rope is shorter. Pozzo has gone blind. Estragon’s boots have moved. Is this progress?

Beckett doesn’t give a stage designer much to go on, but Rae Smith’s set is fantastic. An off-white lunar landscape, full of rises and falls, the kind of rock formation a child would love to clamber over. Starkly, the tree of the same colour stands out. As each Act begins, the set revolves around, just slightly, into place, giving the impression of a Groundhog Day-type time and space reset. Bruno Poet’s lighting design briefly transforms this white barren landscape with a lush warm glow signifying the sunset.

There was much pre-production excitement about the pairing of Lucian Msamati and Ben Whishaw as Estragon and Vladimir, and the expectation that they would be devastatingly good. They do indeed make a very convincing couple of Godot devotees. Mr Msamati’s Gogo is a weary, pain-riddled, sleepy chap who appears to be slow on the uptake. He has a perfect expression for his character; showing little emotion he constantly seems to be processing information in an attempt to understand what’s going on.Mr Whishaw’s Didi, on the other hand, is probing and questioning, tries to take the initiative whenever it’s possible; he’s the alpha male of the two, and leads the conversations with Pozzo and the boy. But the two men are inter-reliant, supporting and irritating each other; lonely when the other is not there, and simply finding ways to pass the time. They execute the famous hat swapping sequence perfectly, in a scene that brings the characters closest to a sense of clowning, but also suggests they’re dissatisfied with their identities. Alternatively, it might just simply be a game to while away a few minutes.

Jonathan Slinger’s Pozzo irradiates (in the first Act at least) wealthy superiority, looking down his nose at everyone and everything, cracking open a bottle of wine as if settling down for a self-indulgent picnic, barely acknowledging his slave Lucky, played with all Tom Edden’s legendary physical comedy – except that it’s not played for laughs. There’s nothing Mr Edden can’t do on stage that calls for some physicality in extremis, and he makes just about as much sense out of Lucky’s long speech that it is possible to do.

It’s fascinating to watch a superb production of this highly significant play. The intensity of the conversations between the two main characters are very demanding on the audience, and you need to concentrate very hard if you want to make some kind of sense out of what’s going on. As a result, at the end of the show and even more so at the beginning of the interval, the audience is stunned into some kind of muted silence. There’s no excited buzz between theatregoers about how much they’re enjoying it (or indeed hating it) – it simply takes all one’s energy away. But it doesn’t leave you empty or feeling short-changed; quite the opposite, in fact. It remains a most remarkable play, and this is a very fine production.

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!