Tag Archives: Minerva

Review – Safe Space, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 23rd October 2025

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When I was a kid, Statues meant a game where you had to freeze whenever the music stopped or someone looked at you. Ah, the halcyon days of innocence! Today, statues are just as likely to be a symbol of oppression or a monument to the unforgivable. Who can forget the statue of Saddam Hussein being toppled in 2003, or the division caused by chucking the statue of Edward Colston into Bristol harbour; or the efforts of the police to protect the statue of Winston Churchill during recent protests, and the debate over the future of the statue of Cecil Rhodes at Oriel College Oxford?

In 2017, Colhoun College, part of Yale University, changed its name to Grace Hopper College, in honour of the computer scientist, mathematician and Rear Admiral who had earned two doctorates from Yale. But there had been calls for the college to change its name since the 1960s, John C. Colhoun having been an outspoken supporter of slavery. Safe Space is Jamie Bogyo’s first play, and he based it on the real-life events that happened at Yale University in 2016/7, where he studied playwrighting. When you enter the auditorium at the Minerva Theatre you are immediately confronted by an imposing statue of Colhoun, suitably bespattered by bird droppings, and you just know he’s going to be a problematic presence.

However, there’s more to life at Yale than being concerned about its alumni’s provocative pasts. I had no idea that, along with all the other Ivy League universities, there is a long tradition of student a cappella singing; today there is even a National (and International) Championship of Collegiate A Cappella. Bogyo inserts a cappella moments into his plot to reflect the wider aspects of college life. There is also a subplot of rivalry between students to take control of influential student groups, with jealousy, false friendships and distrust rife. And there’s also that awkward uncertainty about accidentally saying the wrong thing or using the wrong word when it comes to matters of race or equality; come on, even the most proudly woke of us has been there.

So that’s at least three plots, each of which could sustain a full-length play. Unfortunately, Bogyo has concatenated them all together, with the result that none of them is examined in sufficient detail to create a cohesive and satisfying narrative. Questions, ideas, arguments evolve, but then go nowhere. For example, what damage was done to the statue, and who did it (we never find out, despite an extended scene where the students are waiting to be grilled by the principals). Act One ends on a very lightweight non sequitur that sends us into the interval deflated. One character has an unexpected panic attack, following which we spend a minute or two calming him down – but it is an event that has no bearing on anything that either precedes or follows it. Another truly chaotic and overly busy scene culminates with a fist being smashed through an artwork, but it goes nowhere.

The final scene uses a cappella in a highly unlikely attempt at a reconciliation and we’ve no idea whether the reconciliation is successful. The only issue that receives some kind of resolution is that a decision is made to rename the college – but it’s presented in a very underwhelming way, by disparate characters doomscrolling on their phones. Of course, leaving some issues unresolved is fine – real life is like that – but leaving virtually everything up in the air is annoying. Why did the couple who have sex act so unpleasantly to each other the next day? Why did one of the characters turn from being a supportive friend to a ruthless enemy on the flick of a coin? There’s too much going on and not enough sense being made.

Nevertheless, there’s much to enjoy in the performances and production as a whole. Khadija Raza’s set cleverly adapts to different student bedrooms – basic and luxurious, as well as the intimidating corridor outside the principal’s office and the quadrangle around the statue. The costumes are decently studenty and delightfully formal for the a cappella. Talking of which, the singing is beautiful; both Jamie Bogyo (Connor) and Ernest Kingsley Jr (Isaiah) have exquisitely delicate voices and their harmonies in that final scene – for all its dramatic faults and suspension of belief – are stunning.

All the performances are first rate; Ivan Oyik’s earnestly enthusiastic Omar is a very believable portrayal of a scholarship boy surprised at how well he has done. Bola Akeju almost has to act two characterisations – the friendly supportive Stacy of the opening scenes and the ruthlessly dismissive Stacy once she has achieved power. Céline Buckens is excellent as Connor’s unimpressed girlfriend Annabelle, amusingly checking her phone whilst he’s giving it his everything under the duvet. Jamie Bogyo’s Connor convinces as the kind of guy who simply assumes everything he says is right and that every decent person would always agree with him, and Ernest Kingsley Jr is superb in the most interesting role of Isaiah, the quiet, unassuming student who keeps his beliefs to himself until he is forced to assert his individuality.

It’s a real shame that, despite these excellent elements, the play itself lets the rest of the production down. It’s full of promise, but the end result just doesn’t hang together. So many questions, so few attempts at providing answers. It’s rather like a mass of jangling muscles that need some strong massaging in order to smooth them out and make them do the work they’re meant to. And it’s uncomfortable to be so critical of a writer’s first staged work because there’s obviously a very important and riveting play lurking just beneath the surface – but unfortunately, this isn’t it.

Two Disappointing for More!

Review – Hamlet, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 8th September 2025

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I can never resist a production of Hamlet, arguably the best play in the English language, and I was intrigued to see what that splendid actor Giles Terera would make of the titular role. Unfortunately, the only date that suited us was an early preview of the production, in fact only the second public performance, so I am fully expecting much of what we saw to have been subject to change before the press night.

Director Justin Audibert’s stated aim with this production is to emphasise the atmosphere of spying and paranoia that dominates the text. Spying? Yes indeed. Examples include Polonius spying on Hamlet behind the arras, and Claudius sending Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to spy on him and report back. Paranoia, however, is the erroneous suspicion that people are out to get you; and in Hamlet, such suspicion is perfectly justified, not erroneous. So I don’t think that Audibert’s production succeeds in conveying a sense of paranoia.

What it does, very successfully, is suggest a very dark society; gloomy, anxious, in literal need of illumination. Ryan Day’s lighting is subdued and subtle until he turns the bright lights on when it becomes brash and overwhelming. Jonathan Girling’s intriguing and tuneful musical compositions link the scenes quietly but compellingly. Lily Arnold’s stark wasteland of a set suggests dusty, infertile earth – something could easily be rotten in that state – with an upstairs stage box from where Claudius and Gertrude can watch the Players at work, doubling up as Gertrude’s bed chamber; safely detached and away from the sordid machinations of the hoi polloi. Another enclosed balcony to the side looks like an Elsinore version of a lean-to and only allows a small degree of visibility to the audience, but it’s a perfect position from which to spy.

Elsewhere, there are a couple of odd directorial choices; why is it Gertrude who crowns King Claudius? And (spoiler alert) in Ophelia’s final appearance the audience is left in no doubt from her dress that she has recently suffered a miscarriage; clearly that’s the interpretation that Audibert deduces from Hamlet and Ophelia’s relationship, yet earlier in the play there has been very little suggestion of any intimacy between the two at all. In fact, one of the most notable aspects to this production is how clinical and cold the emotions are. Hamlet’s reflections on Alas poor Yorick, often an opportunity for a note of genuine sadness and regret, come across as very half-hearted and tentative. Even at the moment when Claudius realises Gertrude has drunk the poison, he conveys all the emotion of that brief moment of annoyance when you can’t remember why you’ve gone into the bedroom.

At three hours and thirty minutes, it is a long production; and whilst the first act rips by, the second act slows to a laboured pace. The climax chosen on which to end Act One (the moment Hamlet steals up behind the praying Claudius and is ready to strike him dead) doesn’t work, because there’s no real dramatic lead-up to this moment and the audience knows full well he’s not going to kill him at this point. It feels false. Elsewhere, well acted though it is, the gravediggers’ scene seems immensely too long and could do with some extensive pruning; and they’ve extended the role of Osric to cover two other minor roles, which detracts from the character’s final scene foppish impact.

There are, however, plenty of good characterisations and scenes. Geoff Aymer’s ghost is an ethereal, gasping presence who really would terrify you if he appeared on your battlements at night. Sam Swann’s Horatio is a warm and supportive friend to Hamlet, and Tim Preston and Jay Saighal’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are much more than the vacuous ciphers that they’re often portrayed. Sara Powell is a very credible Gertrude, with no hidden agenda and no suspicious side to her character, just a kindly mother and wife who wants to do her best under the circumstances. Keir Charles is a superb Polonius, again very believable and realistic, sharing his suspicions and concerns about Hamlet in a series of delightful interactions with the audience; pompous and self-serving, but not in an alienating way, so that he becomes the audience’s favourite. Eve Ponsonby gives us a powerful, hysterical Ophelia who has completely lost control of her senses. And, if you enjoy stage combat like me, the swordfight at the end is genuinely exciting to watch.

I have some uncertainty about two of the main performances but hope that they will have become more rounded by the time press night comes around. Ryan Hutton’s Laertes is fine in his opening scenes but on his return after the death of Polonius, he tends to shout and stab at his lines, rushing through them without much meaning. And Ariyon Bakare’s Claudius is the opposite, giving us a rather quiet and underplayed performance, repressing the character’s sentiments rather than releasing them. But hopefully these performances will have borne fruit by now.

I always think it’s important to establish just how mad or otherwise the character of Hamlet is; and Giles Terera convinces me all along as being 100% sane, with his hawks and handsaws clearly demarcated for all to see. Comfortable with those he trusts and very suspicious of those he doesn’t, his soliloquies are for the most part well-paced and clear, and his storytelling is convincing. Like the rest of the production, his emotions seem sometimes oppressed; but it’s a believable and honest performance that holds the production together well.

It’s atmospheric and easy to follow (you can’t always say that about Hamlet), although perhaps it lacks a little theatrical magic. I was surprised at the number of people (maybe 10% of a sold-out audience) who did not return after the interval, as it’s a perfectly solid production, gimmick-free and respectful of the text. Hopefully time has ironed out any problems it faced during previews, which would probably merit an extra star!

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review Marie and Rosetta, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 18th July 2025

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Who said theatre isn’t educational? I don’t know how I got to [insert old age here] years old and had never heard of Sister Rosetta Tharpe and Marie Knight. Rosetta was born in 1915 into a family of cotton pickers driven by music and started singing at the age of six in her mother’s evangelical touring troupe. Marie was born in 1920 (although she later decided 1925 sounded better) into a Pentecostal family in New Jersey and sang with evangelist Frances Robinson and gospel singer Mahalia Jackson. Rosetta recorded Decca’s first ever gospel songs and became an overnight sensation, but both were extraordinarily gifted performers. And in 1946 the two met and started performing together.

Playwright George Brant decided that Rosetta led such a full and incident-packed life that it would be impossible to tell her story in one play. He has chosen to concentrate on that one period in her life, when she and Marie started working together; thus Marie and Rosetta is a reimagined staging of what it must have been like to observe their initial rehearsals before their opening shows.

It’s clear that Rosetta is the star, with a successful recording contract and live appearances with the likes of Cab Calloway at venues like the Cotton Club and Carnegie Hall. Not for nothing was she called the Godmother of Rock ‘n’ Roll! She’s rich with life experience too, with failed marriages and living the harsh realities of the racial segregation laws. By contrast, Marie has come to prominence through the Church, has married a preacher and is clearly more motivated by her religious beliefs than Rosetta.

It’s this considerable difference between the individuals’ backgrounds that creates an artistic tension that the two characters explore, most clearly seen in Marie’s insistence on Sing whereas Rosetta naturally opts for Swing. Rosetta knows that, despite her admiration and appreciation of Marie’s talent, they wouldn’t be able to work together if Marie was to look down on Rosetta because of some religious superiority. So does Sing beat Swing or does Swing become too much of a temptation for Sing? If you don’t already know, you’ll have to watch the play to find out!

What appears to be a straightforwardly constructed play reveals something of a twist towards the end, which is handled very deftly and satisfyingly. Unfortunately Mr Brant slightly rushes the ending, trying to fit in as much extra information about the two singers as possible, which, though interesting and relevant, feels like too much to take on board so late in the play.

Simply, but not unattractively, staged, our two singers find themselves in a funeral home for their first rehearsal, but with shimmering showbiz curtains around them, two of which conceal live musicians: guitarist and musical director Shirley Tetteh stage left and pianist Mia Odeleye stage right. It’s distinctly a play with music rather than a musical, but there’s no doubt that the performances of the music are the highlight of this show. A few of the songs were familiar to me, but the vast majority were not, and it was a blissful discovery of a genre of music of which I know little – so that’s a second educational aspect to the show!

And what vocal performances! Beverley Knight, originally a hugely successful recording artist and now a doyenne of the musical stage, plays Rosetta with heart, pizzazz, cheek, and plenty of vulnerability; she truly brings the character to life. And as soon as she starts singing her amazing clear tones resound around the Minerva with both guts and warmth. As an aside, the Minerva is a smaller venue and therefore singers like Ms Knight need little amplification and the musical sound is all the better for it.

And she is matched by Ntombizodwa Ndlovu as Marie; portraying her initially as a starstruck young woman who can’t believe her luck to be performing with someone of the stature of Rosetta and then visibly growing in confidence and determined to make her own artistic decisions. Ms Ndlovu is a terrific find with a superb voice, a lovely feel for comedy and a truly likeable stage presence.

Marie and Rosetta has already visited the Rose Theatre Kingston and the Wolverhampton Grand and continues its run at the Minerva in Chichester until 26th July.

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

 

Review – The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 10th May 2025

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Our summer Chichester season for 2025 kicked off with a new musical based on Rachel Joyce’s book, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, with music and lyrics by Passenger and the book by Joyce herself. I’m not familiar with the original novel, which was longlisted for the 2012 Man Booker Prize, nor the film of 2023 starring Jim Broadbent, nor the musical back-catalogue of Passenger, so I approached the show with no expectations or preconceptions whatsoever – often a good thing.

A deceptively simple story, it tells the tale of the retired Harold Fry who, having received a letter out of the blue from an old friend and work colleague, Queenie, saying that she’s now living in a hospice in Berwick upon Tweed, decides, on a whim, to walk all the way from Devon to Berwick to visit her. On his way, he meets various people whose lives he enriches by his kindness and simple determination, and who in turn affect him and his view of the world. His influence grows and he becomes so inspirational that he’s an unintentional Insta sensation! Initially it infuriates his wife, Maureen. Their marriage had become stale and grumpy because of a breakdown in communication, but eventually both come to terms with a re-evaluation of their lives.

Samuel Wyer’s design for the show is also simple and straightforward; a bare stage, but with tables, chairs, shop fronts, front doors, and so on all rapidly wheeled on and off to suggest the various locations of the story. Katy Rudd’s ensemble of actors all work their socks off to get the settings into position, bringing props on and off the stage with impressive dexterity; and there are some terrifically unexpected costume changes, such as when “Garage Girl” sheds her shop assistant’s uniform to reveal a shiny, glitzy blue tasselled outfit worthy of Diana Ross and the Supremes.

It’s a very charming, emotional, show; closer to The Hired Man than 42nd Street, but you probably guessed that already. All the characters in the story go on a journey, not just Harold and his big trek, but all the people he meets en route; and it’s not just a physical journey. All those aspects of ourselves that we never have the time or opportunity in everyday life to consider, those abilities or talents, those hidden passions, those secret truths, all come out along the way. It’s always rewarding when, at the end of a play, a book or film, you’ve been taken to a different place from where you went in, and The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry does that with great success.

The music truly helps us all on the journey, with delightful songs that move the story forward. Three such gems are Walk Upon the Water, which encourages Harold to have the courage of his convictions, Shout it From the Rooftops when the Silver Haired Gentleman is convinced that it’s finally time for him to be honest about his sexuality, and Such is Life, sung by the Farmer’s Wife, which is one of the most positive statements I’ve ever heard about coming to terms with childlessness. The style of music also heavily suggests countryside, not just bucolic bliss, but nature red in tooth and claw too. There’s nothing romantic or tranquil about the state of Harold’s feet after walking that far. And there are lessons to be learned about the power of thought too.

The production boasts some terrific performances. Jack Wolfe, just about the only good thing about the RSC’s ghastly Magician’s Elephant a few years ago, here plays “The Balladeer”, a kind of spirit character who both encourages and influences Harold on his journey as well as narrating the story. He has a fragile, ethereal stage presence perfect for the role and a brilliant voice to boot. His significance develops as the tale unfolds, but I’m not going to spoil that revelation for you.

Sharon Rose is also superb in the roles of Garage Girl and Kate, a powerful, comedically gifted performer with a great voice and presence. Tarinn Callender excels in many roles but particularly as Wilf, Fry’s number one Pilgrim. And there’s fantastic support from Amy Booth-Steel as the Farmer’s Wife, Queenie and other roles, Don Gallagher as the Silver Haired Gentleman and the dreadful Mr Napier, Madeleine Worrall as Sister Philomena at the hospice, and knock-out puppetry from Timo Tatzber who brings “Dog” to life with such character and lovability.

The always tremendous Jenna Russell is on top form as Maureen, although it is a shame that she has so few singing opportunities; and Mark Addy is excellent as Harold, the pivotal character to whom things happen rather than his making them happen. His is a curious character in many regards, perhaps more notable for what he is not than what he is; but Mr A commands the stage with natural authority.

It tells its story clearly and packed with emotion – there’s a desperate rush for the Handy Andies at the end, so be warned. A very clever combination of the powerful and the gentle which makes you feel just that little bit more hopeful for mankind at the end.

P. S. Neighbour Rex traces Fry halfway around the country and meets up with him so that Maureen can Facetime him; Harold left in such a hurry he forgot to take his mobile with him. But why the heck doesn’t Rex bring Harold’s phone, to give him? It makes no sense! That blip in the logic of the piece really annoyed me!

P. P. S. I humbly suggest they could do with changing the title of the song, You’re Fucked. Not through any sense of prudishness, but they ought to take a leaf out of A Chorus Line’s book. In that show’s early try-outs, people would look at the programme before the show, see that there was a song called Tits ‘n’ Ass, have a good chuckle about it, and then not laugh much when it appeared during the show. They then decided to rename it Dance Ten Looks Three so that the surprise could be hidden until the last moment. Similarly, the audience for Harold Fry has a good chuckle when they see there’s a song called You’re Fucked; as a result, that means it has less of an impact during the show. Just call it The Doctor’s Song instead!

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – The Spy Who Came in From the Cold, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 3rd September 2024

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I’ve come to the conclusion that the world consists of two types of people; those who understand spy stories, and those who don’t. Much as I would like to be part of that first group, I fear I’m one of the latter. I’ve never read a John Le Carré novel, and I never got into all that Tinker Tailer Soldier Spy stuff on TV either. So I am probably the wrong demographic to comment on Chichester’s new production of The Spy Who Came In From The Cold. But when did that ever stop me before?

Le Carré, of course, was a real spy (don’t worry, I’m not the first to blow his cover) so one can only assume that everything in the books – and indeed as portrayed in this stage adaptation by David Eldrige – is pretty realistic. Worn out agent Alec Leamas is given one last job by his control – to return to East Germany, where he had been “our man”, and pose as a defector. However his real job is to frame one Hans-Dieter Mundt, ex-Stasi officer and head of the Abteilung, as a double agent. Naturally, things don’t go according to plan.

Jeremy Herrin’s crisp production looks suitably bleak and comfortless from the outset, with Riemeck’s upturned bike representing its owner’s early departure from this world. George Smiley stands aloof for much of the play, observing the activity below from a balcony, where he has presumably gone to retire (clue – he hasn’t retired.) The sets and props are minimalist, allowing our imaginations to fill in the gaps. Ominous, frequently threatening background music composed by Paul Englishby adds to the unsettling atmosphere.

David Eldrige’s script assumes a basic knowledge of the world of Smiley, which I clearly don’t have. I appreciated and enjoyed the introductory scene where the various characters are introduced with their political backgrounds and how they feature in the story landscape. But terms like Praesidium and Circus and Abteilung meant nothing to me, and although you can make a good guess as to their relevance, I felt I was backfooted from the start, and mentally constantly running to keep up with my understanding of what was going on.

There are time changes in the story too, which don’t help when you’re already somewhat at sea. Fortunately, I don’t feel too bad about that, because judging from the overheard comments of other theatregoers at the end of the show, I was far from the only one to have only a slight grip on exactly what happened; once I had read the Wikipedia synopsis of the book so much more of it made sense – but surely, that shouldn’t be necessary? However, there’s no doubt that the adaptation succeeds in emphasising the amorality of this spy world, and the double-crossing continues right until the very end.

Rory Keenan is excellent as Leamas throughout. Down-at-heel, down-at-heart, cynical through and through; he’s exactly how you would expect a world-weary spy to look and behave. Ian Drysdale is also great as Control – if this was James Bond, I think he would be M – effortlessly polite, ruthlessly persistent, concealing a vicious interior beneath a gentlemanly façade. The ever-reliable Philip Arditti is great as Fiedler, Mundt’s second in command, especially in the courtroom scene. And Agnes O’Casey is a very believable Liz, the proudly communist librarian who gets entangled in a love affair with Leamas.

For me it was a production that asked more questions than it answered. I’ve no idea why, for example, for most of the play some of the characters were seated at the back of the stage waiting for entrances whilst others weren’t. And although I was always engrossed by what was going on, that’s possibly because of the top quality acting and cat-and-mouse conversations rather than anything to do with the plot itself. If you’re a Smiley aficionado, you’ll love it; if you’re a Le Carré virgin, read a synopsis before seeing the show – it will help.

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – The Caretaker, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 27th June 2024

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The Caretaker was one of the first Harold Pinter plays I read when I was just about old enough to appreciate the art of reading a play; I always knew it was a superb piece of writing – but it has taken me till now to see those words in action for myself. The programme to this production features insights into and photos of various scintillating productions that have taken place over the years – and somehow, I managed to miss out on them all.

Don’t ask what the play’s about, because on paper it’s unimpressive. A man gives a homeless man a bed for a few nights in a dingy flat that he and his brother share. After a while, they decide the arrangement isn’t working; they ask him to leave. That’s it. You can only marvel at Pinter’s ability to build in suspense, comedy, compassion, heartache and so many other emotions to such a slight plot; as always with Pinter, it’s the interactions between the characters, the gradual revelation of personality and motivations, and simply the things that aren’t said that are at least equally as eloquent as his words.

Sixty-four years on, and it remains a beautiful play; and I appreciated the way Justin Audibert’s magnificent production hasn’t altered the text at all, apart from including just one interval to create a two act play out of a three-acter. There’s no disguising the tramp’s prejudices to which he gives ready voice even though today we’re queasy at his comments; the brothers hear these comments with neither consent nor surprise. It’s 1960 – such was the flavour of the age.

Aston is too caught up in his own mental torture to register much of what Davies says, apart from doing his best to help him in whatever practical way he can – provided he can have his vital, restorative sleep. Mick, on the other hand, is a coiled spring of cynicism and distrust, tempting Davies to be disloyal to Aston so that Mick can pounce on him and deliver punishment, both physical and mental. Davies is caught between the two, willing to go along with anything either of them says if he feels it can gain him some preferment; whether that is a pair of decent shoes, a smoking jacket, or simply a dry roof over his head. It’s when he tries too ambitiously to play one brother off against the other that he simply takes a step too far.

Stephen Brimson Lewis has created a gloomy, intricate, claustrophobic set from which you can almost smell the dirt and the damp. A minute amount of light comes through the grimy window with its filthy half-curtain. Old bits of machinery, stacks of magazines, all the detritus of Aston’s wasted life, litter the room; everything is as broken as he is. The costumes show excellent attention to detail, with two indeed very decent looking pairs of shoes on offer to Davies, and a luxurious smoking jacket that stands out a mile as being at odds with its repulsive environment.

There’s nowhere to hide in this dark, intense environment, and it needs top quality committed performances to do justice to the writing and to serve the heritage of this play. Justin Audibert’s trio of actors are simply superlative in every way. I’d only seen Aden Gillen in TV’s Benidorm before – and you couldn’t get a more different performance. Radiating damage in every movement and every syllable, his Aston never wavers in tone or emphasis, quietly going about his business, whether it’s tinkering with a plug or going out on errands. His long speech that comes just before the interval – one of Pinter’s most excruciating and yet beautiful pieces of writing – commands our attention from the very start and draws us in to his anguish over the shock treatment he was given; a cliché, I know, but you could hear a pin drop. It’s a stunning performance.

Jack Riddiford also gives a performance of fantastic power, His Mick is a vision of thinly disguised enmity, a streetwise smart-arse who revels in the sepia-tinged faux-romanticism of memories of people and places around London, whether it be Putney or Caledonian Road, Shoreditch or Finsbury Park; harking back to a kind of Blitz spirit mentality where life was somehow more free and idealistic. Mr Riddiford superbly conveys that Pinteresque wallowing in the past, but also the desire for quality, as when he rounds on Davies accusing him of not being a fully professional experienced interior designer. Always unpredictable as to the level of aggression he shows, if you knew him in real life you’d give him a really wide berth.

As Davies, Ian McDiarmid brings all his years of experience and skill to his characterisation of this wretched, slippery, self-deceiving man, shuffling around the stage to show how his shoes aren’t good enough, preening in his smoking jacket, stunned into a pathetic wheedling when he realises his interpersonal tactics aren’t going the way he wanted. At two months before his 80th birthday, Mr McD gives a subtle, believable, humorous and ultimately heart-breaking performance that stays in the mind long after the show comes down.

If I were to have imagined the perfect production and casting of the play in my mind’s eye, this would be it. It’s playing at the Minerva Theatre until 13 July, but it would be a tragedy if the production didn’t have a future life.

 

Five Alive Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – The House Party, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 4th May 2024 (Preview)

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Strindberg’s Miss Julie was first staged in 1889, and has always been a source of fresh theatrical material, crying out for new directors to have a stab at it, to keep it relevant and contemporary, and to play around with it to get something new out of it. In fact, it was only ten years ago that a new version by Rebecca Lenkiewicz was produced on the very same Minerva stage, preserving the structure and roles of the original play but with 21st century bite.

Now it’s Laura Lomas’ turn, with her version of the play now called The House Party, co-produced with two of the best production companies around, Headlong and Frantic Assembly, and directed by Holly Race Roughan with her usual feel for a quirky twist. Set in her father’s kitchen, Julie’s wishes dominate all domestic proceedings, including the house party that’s arranged for later that day – hence the title of the play. She’s besties with Christina, who has an interview at Cambridge University in the morning; her beloved and trusted boyfriend Jon is going to drive her there.

Christina and Jon have a good thing going, but Julie is never one to miss a chance to stir things, and when Jon confesses to Julie that he used to fancy her five years earlier when his mum used to come and clean for her dad, she doesn’t dissuade him from – if I may be so crude, gentle reader, thinking with his d*ck. Successfully having ruined the fairytale dreams of her friend, the usual Miss Julie tragic consequences ensue, with heartache, broken trust, livid arguments and a suicide attempt.

Unlike the original, Ms Lomas’ version bookends the classic one-act structure of the play with two extra scenes. In the first, we see Julie and Christina gearing up for the party, a pair of giggling girls preparing to have fun. This allows us to see deeper into the characters and assess for ourselves the extent of their friendship and the risks that either of them might be prepared to take in order to get their own way. The final scene offers us what you might consider to be an alternative ending to the traditional play, but to save the impact that the writer wants it to achieve, I’m not going to say any more about it – don’t want to spoil any surprises for you.

Loren Elstein’s set design is impressive; the stage is dominated by a superb, sleek, top-of-the-range kitchen island that includes concealed wine fridge, dishwasher, cupboards and so on. It emphasises beautifully just how rich Julie’s dad must be to have an enviable kitchen like this; all the best equipment, and a worktop to die for. Upstairs is a bathroom, all modern opaque window wall, like an ensuite in the finest Oberoi hotel bedroom. A statement-making lamp hovers over the plush white sofa (White? What were they thinking?!) and that’s all that’s necessary to suggest this ultra-privileged, ultra-modern lifestyle.

One of my favourite mantras about theatre is that I would prefer to see a brave failure more than a lazy success. It’s very subjective as to what constitutes both failure and success in those terms; there’s absolutely nothing lazy about this production at all, but it doesn’t work 100%. It is, however, very brave in its concept, and despite its failures (I think there are a couple) it’s extremely enjoyable and watchable. Here’s the first problem: this production has a gimmick, which is that audience members form part of the house party guests. Once the prologue is finished and the party gets underway these audience members emerge from behind a darkened screen where they have been watching and waiting like an eerie ghostly presence, filing out into a selection of sofas, seats, chairs and benches.

I must be honest; the on-stage seats look incredibly uncomfortable, as did the poor members of the public as they blundered about the stage trying to find spare seats. It’s a risky undertaking by the production to stage it this way; you fully rely on these audience members to play ball and behave. Bizarrely, it makes zero difference to how we appreciate the play anyway. The only effect it has is to raise a small accidental laugh when audience members have to budge up on the big sofa whilst actors try to squeeze themselves into whatever gap has appeared between them.

Admittedly, in Strindberg’s original, there is a ball taking place off-stage but it rarely intrudes upon the meat of the story. In this production, however, the party takes centre stage, with dynamic dancing and music and light effects, and the constant presence of the audience members who are party hangers-on reminds us all the way through of the fun and games that is happening elsewhere. But the whole notion of the party is completely irrelevant to the story and the dramas that emerge between the three main characters. The final scene, which constitutes a twenty-minute second act, causes those audience members to feel even more surplus to requirement; that party has long finished. Structuring the production on the party is frankly pointless, and although the party dancing is admirably and acrobatically performed, it has no place in the show at all. It’s just a distraction.

The second failure is the fact that the final scene exists at all. In the programme, Laura Lomas states that she wanted it to express her wish that the play shouldn’t “be making a judgment about what kind of life is a life worth living”. One of the strengths of Strindberg’s play is that the final outcome of what we’ve witnessed is left to the audience’s imagination; it’s a deliciously inconclusive ending. The final scene of The House Party, however, eliminates all possibility of doubt and recounts exactly what happened. There’s no room for any I wonder ifs at the end of this show. It is brave; it is bold. But I wish they hadn’t done it.

In the programme Laura Lomas also says she wants the play to remove some of Strindberg’s misogyny that’s inherent in the original. Does it succeed? There’s no doubt that Lomas’ Jon is much less ruthless in his dealings with Julie than Strindberg’s Jean. However, at the end of the day, Jon is still triumphant, getting everything he wants. Julie comes across as much more manipulative than Jon, who’s just led by the horns to do what she wants. Christina remains an under-achiever, accepting a lower position in life than she merits.

The show we saw was only its second preview, but I can’t imagine that the three central performances are going to get any better. This is not the first time I’ve seen the excellent Rachelle Diedericks work with Holly Race Roughan and they clearly have a brilliant understanding of each other. Ms Diedericks is spellbinding as the put-upon Christina, pussyfooting around the subject of Cambridge because it will mean she can’t go with Julie to Thailand, even though Julie puts a lot of pressure on her to cave in. When it’s revealed that Jon has been unfaithful and had sex with Julie, Ms D’s devastation at the news and the realisation that everything she held dearest has been destroyed is tangible. Simply brilliant.

Nadia Parkes is also superb as Julie; exuding power and privilege, you really feel she’s deliberately courting lowlier types with her relationships with both Christina and Jon. Flighty, self-absorbed and loving to lead people astray, she also conveys that wafer-thin balance between self-confidence and mental illness; the kind of person who is both entertaining and terrifying to know.

Josh Finan is terrific as Jon; an equal partner for Christina, and a bit of rough for Julie, displaying the strong class difference that attracts them both to each other. Mr Finan has a marvellous sincerity that makes you believe unquestioningly everything he says, as though Jon were an open book with no hidden agenda.  Holly Race Roughan’s direction is tight and intimate despite the large acting area at her disposal, which is successfully sacrificed in the final scene to give an impression of cramped claustrophobia.

It’s a strong production with much to say which benefits from three stupendous performances. Despite any misgivings about the changes made to Strindberg’s original, it’s hugely entertaining and cleverly realised. Don’t buy the on-stage seats though.

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Black is the Color of My Voice, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 22nd February 2024

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Apphia Campbell’s Black is the Color of My Voice first appeared – perhaps bizarrely – in Shanghai, eleven years ago. Since then, it’s been performed all over the UK as well as in America and Australia, including successful runs at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. Inspired by the life of Nina Simone, who died 21 years ago but whose memory lives on in her outstanding recordings, this is an irresistibly compelling performance that impresses from the start.

Apphia Campbell takes us straight to the heart of her character Mena Bordeaux, heavily influenced by her childhood and her God-fearing parents, reminiscing on how she started to play the piano at the age of 3 without any teaching, and how she was encouraged to develop and grow provided she didn’t play the Devil’s music (spoiler: she did!) She first encounters racial prejudice when she is refused a place to study classical music, and the fury she feels as a result only makes her more determined to attain success. She becomes involved in the Civil Rights movement and appears alongside Martin Luther King, whose assassination devastates her. She is also trapped in a cruel, violent marriage. But she never ceases to strive for equality, using the power of her voice to change minds.

A bed, a table, a photograph and a suitcase of memories is all it takes to stage this stirring and emotional one woman’s examination of the life and career of someone who touched millions of hearts through her music and her activism; and this simplicity of presentation makes the content of the show appeal directly to the audience without unnecessary trappings and distractions.

Ms Campbell’s performance captivates your attention throughout. Not only does she convey the emotion of the story, but she also has a superb singing voice which fills the auditorium with disarming ease; a rich, passionate tone that suits the Nina Simone material perfectly. The writing is heartfelt and beautifully worded; if I have a tiny criticism – and it is tiny – it is that the play starts and ends at roughly the same place, with Mena Bordeaux’ hands outstretched towards a vision of her beloved daddy, which gives a static but false impression that we haven’t moved on throughout the past 75 minutes. But we have; one comes away from the show wanting to know much more about both Nina Simone and the Civil Rights movement – I felt ashamed to admit how little I knew about both.

The tour continues to Birmingham Rep, and then visits Adelaide, Melbourne and Sydney in Australia before returning to Leeds and Manchester in April and Stratford East in June. An electrifying and inspirational journey through one woman’s life. Don’t miss it!

Five Alive Let Theatre Thrive!

Almost a Review – The Inquiry, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 14th October 2023

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Why almost a review? Well, I saw The Inquiry on its second preview last Saturday night, and usually you can tell when a preview show is pretty much already “there” in terms of having a finalised script, settled staging, confident performances, and sure-footed direction. Last month, we saw the second preview of Never Have I Ever at the same theatre, and, although I had my reservations about the play and its content, there was no denying the fluidity and confidence of the performers and production.

However, I really did not get that vibe from last Saturday’s performance. Writer Harry Davies – investigations correspondent at The Guardian – watched the show a few seats from us with his pen and pad in hand and a worried look on his face. Fine, reputable actors fluffed their way through scenes with a faltering hold on the script and an uncertainty that you would never associate with them. All of this suggested to me that there had been a flurry of re-writes and they were still coming to terms with them. Press Night was due to take place on Tuesday 17th, but a little online research suggests that it was cancelled, and checking the Chichester Theatre website today the next scheduled performance is the matinee on Saturday 21st. They haven’t even released any production photos, only the rehearsal pics. It doesn’t sound very  promising, does it? Let’s hope that most of the issues that were evident on the 14th will have been resolved by then.

So, to review a preview, or not to review a preview? That is the question. Normally, if that’s the only way I can get to see a play that I want to catch, and provided it’s clear that it is indeed a preview performance that is being reviewed, so one should always make concessions to the fact that it might not yet be tip-top, I don’t see why not. And after all, it was a public, paying performance. So please bear in mind, the production that resurfaces on Saturday may well be a million miles from what I saw last Saturday. In fact, I rather hope it is. As a result, I don’t think it’s fair to give this show a star rating at the moment.

The basis of the play is reasonably straightforward. Thrusting young MP and newly Lord Chancellor, the Right Honourable Arthur Gill is the subject of an inquiry into his dealings with Eastern Water, who appear to have had the unfortunate problem of poisoning their customers with contaminated water supplies. The subject is nothing if not topical. Leading the inquiry is Lady Justice Deborah Wingate, assisted by Jonathan Hayden KC. Gill himself receives advice from a trusted old friend, Lord Patrick Thorncliffe KC. Gill is hotly tipped to become the next party leader, and therefore the next PM. Still, things are looking bad with the inquiry, so it’s time to start playing dirty. Scandals, leaks, and lies abound – and will Lady Wingate ever be able to finalise her inquiry?

It’s a riveting situation. However, as performed on last Saturday night, it’s not a riveting play. In fact, I always got the sense that there was another play taking place in parallel, that we never get to see, and which sounds a lot more interesting than the one we’re watching. That may be because, whilst it’s called The Inquiry, we never get to observe that inquiry in action. All we see are the background negotiations, plans and rectum-protectum operations. I longed for a courtroom scene to inject a bit of true drama into the proceedings – alas, it wasn’t to be.

It feels as though the characters are all engaged in pussyfooting around the main meat of the issue, rather than tackling the important subject of people dying from their water supply. That’s because it’s seen from their perspective, rather than from Eastern Water’s and Gills’ victims’ angle. And, to be fair, I don’t think that’s what Harry Davies is attempting to achieve with this play. However, quite what it is he is trying to do also isn’t clear. Additionally, most of the characters are unlikeable; this has the unfortunate side effect of not making you care one way or the other about their fate. And I don’t think I’m giving any games away by adding that – certainly as it was written and performed on Saturday night – the inquiry won’t result in any long term change.

Max Jones has created a very antiseptic governmental office for most of the scenes; the boxes of inquiry documents that surround the stage suggest a monument of paperwork that has to be painstakingly gone through – but there’s hardly a box file on stage which implies the opposite, so that design element felt self-contradictory. Mr Jones does however give us Lady Wingate’s charmingly verdant garden terrace as a blaze of colour and calm, and as a beautiful retreat from the stark reality of governmental business.

John Heffernan is superb as Gill; a naturally smug politician treading carefully around the pitfalls of his somewhat vivid and busy sexual younger days, and happy to parry-riposte whenever he can to try to regain the upper hand. There’s also a terrific performance from the always reliable Malcolm Sinclair as his advisor Thorncliffe, as slimy and sleazy as they come, marvellously manipulative and condescending. Scenes between those actors are electric with tension.However, as at Saturday, the other actors still had some ground to make up, shall we say; but fingers crossed that they come through exactly as you would expect when it reopens.

One is used to seeing comedians perform Work in Progress shows, where they chuck new material at an audience to see what lands and what doesn’t. Saturday’s performance almost felt like the theatrical equivalent. As this is only almost a review, of a second night preview, it needs a whole lot of work to bring it up to scratch. But that’s the thing about theatre – miracles do happen.