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

Posted on May 6, 2024 by therealchrisparkle

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 21^st 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.

Four They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Miss Julie / Black Comedy, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 2nd August 2014

Posted on August 4, 2014 by therealchrisparkle

For many years Mrs Chrisparkle and I have paid an annual pilgrimage to Chichester, invariably seeing a play at the Minerva in the afternoon and in the Festival Theatre in the evening. This year, it only took one look at the summer schedule to realise that one visit would not be enough. So for 2014 we are having three trips to Chichester – and this was the first!

Considering when I were a lad I did post-graduate research at London University into the effects of the withdrawal of Stage Censorship in 1968, it’s an outrageous confession that I have to make: I’ve never seen a production of Strindberg’s Miss Julie before. In fact, I’m not entirely sure I’d even read it. I devoured Ibsen as a teenager, but for some reason Strindberg was never on the same menu. This new Chichester production was therefore a golden opportunity to put that right. Although it was written in 1888, and despite several attempts from producers to stage it, it didn’t get a licence for a public performance in Britain until 1938. Even then, the censor insisted the word “whore” be replaced with “filth”. But the Lord Chamberlain’s Office couldn’t hold the tidal wave of literary appreciation for this play back any more: “The play may disgust some, but it can corrupt nobody. No footman nor chauffeur need fear the more for his virtue for its passing, not society disintegrate in one glorious orgy in the servants’ hall”. That must have been a relief.

So what is (or was) so shocking about this play? Miss Julie comes from noble stock but she acts like a guttersnipe. Her one desire is to seduce the valet Jean, to steal him from under the nose of his virtuous fiancée Kristin. Once she is “maiden no more” the character of Jean changes somewhat. He manipulates Miss Julie to steal money from her father so they can run away to start a hotel together; you can see his cruelty in the “beheading the bird” scene. Once her courage goes and she realises she has no alternative but to end it all, Jean encourages her to slit her throat with a shaving razor. It’s true – it’s not what you’d call a “nice” play. But it’s very powerful – and Rebecca Lenkiewicz’ new version is a rivetingly disturbing watch, even allowing for its wry treatment of the few passages of dark humour.

Andrew D Edwards’ excellent set is very naturalistic (as it should be for Strindberg), with a decent kitchen table and a proper working sink, but otherwise quite bare and comfortless; and Jamie Glover’s direction is taut and tense, letting the words do the work. Rosalie Craig is a very convincing Miss Julie – bewitchingly seductive with more than a touch of the dominatrix in the way she abuses her position of authority. You can just imagine her with her ex-fiancé, her insisting that he jump over her riding whip – you really wouldn’t want to mess with her. But as her plans fall apart she shows great vulnerability too, and the final scene, when she is completely trapped in the web of her own making, is very moving. Shaun Evans (who I’ve only ever seen before as TV’s Endeavour), plays Jean as a great manipulator; very calculating, very deliberate, innately violent – very much the fire with which Miss Julie plays and gets burned. There’s also a superb performance by Emma Handy as Kristin, the cook; a realist who knows she cannot compete with Miss Julie for Jean’s attentions, whether it be because of status or vivacity. It’s a very intense one hour twenty minutes, demanding your full attention but rewarding you with powerful story-telling and a fine production.

You probably couldn’t have a greater contrast for the second of the two one-act plays, even though both deal with infidelity. Peter Shaffer’s Black Comedy first appeared in 1965, also at Chichester, with Derek Jacobi as Brindsley and Maggie Smith as Clea. Kenneth Tynan had commissioned the play to be produced by the National Theatre together with a revival of – you guessed it – Miss Julie; so this double-bill could only have been more appropriate had it happened next year as a 50th anniversary production. If you don’t already know – it’s the simple story of Brindsley, an aspiring but impoverished artist, and his squeaky-voiced girlfriend Carol,hosting a small party in order to impress a) millionaire art collector Bamberger who just might buy one of Brindsley’s pieces and b) Carol’s blusterful military Colonel father in the hope he will approve of their marriage. To give the flat a more artistic flair, they temporarily nick furniture and antiques from their prissy neighbour Harold (who’s away for the weekend, and who would never let anyone else touch his prize objects). Just before the Colonel and the millionaire are due to show up, a fuse goes, and the flat is plunged into darkness.

Or into light, as it happens, as the whole play is presented the other way round. When they have no power and cannot see, the stage is lit; when the electricity is working and everyone acts normally, the stage is dark. Matches and torches get struck and are switched on, at which time the stage is half-lit. It’s a very inventive construct. Cue for a hilarious farce, with a barking Colonel, a batty old lady, an unexpectedly returned prissy neighbour, an even more unexpectedly returned ex-girlfriend, and a perfect case of mistaken identity between the millionaire art collector and the man from the London Electricity Board. It’s one of those farces where you have to keep your teeth permanently clenched and you peer at the stage between gaps in your crossed hands, so cringe-making are the scrapes that our hero digs himself into. At one stage the elderly lady seated to my left was laughing so much she had to grab hold of my arm to steady herself. It really is an extraordinarily funny play and is given a deliciously funny production, with some great performances and fantastic comic business.

At the heart of it is a brilliantly physical performance by Paul Ready as Brindsley, tripping over carpets, bumping on his arse all the way down the stairs, walking into doorframes and generally wreaking havoc for an hour or so. However, I think the two supreme comic moments were when Jonathan Coy (always an asset to an comedy cast) as the Colonel, sat down on the replacement rocking chair, and Samuel Dutton, as the diminutive Bamberger, “discovered” the cellar. There’s a lovely performance by Marcia Warren as Miss Furnival, who’s played baffled old ladies as long as I can remember, discovering the drinks cabinet for herself; and also excellent support from Robyn Addison as posh totty Carol, whose sweetness turns sour on encountering her rival, and comedy stalwart Mike Gradyas the Germanic and artistically enlightened Schuppanzigh. Also taking part from the Miss Julie cast are Shaun Evans as Harold, brimming with tart petulance when he discovers that Brindsley’s been seeing other women, and Rosalie Craig as a thoroughly unpredictable and sparky Clea, intent on making the situation as bad for Brindsley as possible. The cast work together seamlessly to create a great ensemble performance – and the audience loved it. The whole double bill forms a splendidly enjoyable production, balancing out harsh tragedy with uproarious farce. One more week to go – it closes on 9th August.

P. S. Mrs C and I thought we would try the Minerva Brasserie for a pre-theatre lunch. What a good idea that was! Three fantastic courses and some cheese, and a top bottle of Chablis, perfectly chilled, all served with a friendly politeness and in a very comfortable setting too. There’s excellent provision for coeliacs too, with plenty of gluten-free choices, including unexpected g-f bread to accompany the cheese, which Mrs C said was really yummy. We’ll certainly be doing that again!