Tag Archives: RSC

Review – Roald Dahl’s The BFG, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 9th December 2025

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The BFG and Sophie

©Marc Brenner

You’ve heard the phrase, the magic of theatre. Many productions aim for it, some get near it; few achieve it. The Royal Shakespeare Company’s new production of The BFG defines it. Suffice to say, there’s technical wizardry in abundance here, but that’s not what creates the magic alone; what this production has is heart, pure heart. It arises from the combination of all the elements that create this wonderful show, from director Daniel Evans’ vision, the seamless pairing of puppets and actors, the lighting, the sound, the video projection, the how did they do that elements when an actor seems to disappear and then reappear somewhere completely different; not to mention the remarkable characterisations, and the comedy, which genuinely provokes several massive guffaw moments.

Sophie and the BFG

©Marc Brenner

For some reason, I never encountered any of Roald Dahl’s children’s stories as a lad, and I only think of him in terms of Tales of the Unexpected. Before seeing the show, I therefore had no preconceptions of The BFG, I only expected him to be big, friendly, and… well you get the picture. Tom Wells’ adaptation introduces us to besties Sophie and Kimberley, in their beds at their orphanage, with different coping strategies about surviving the witching hour. When Sophie catches the eyes of the BFG looking through her window – and the BFG realises he has been sprung – he has no alternative but to kidnap her and take her back to Giant Country. But rather than this being the beginning of her end, they form a charming bond which leads on to an adventure where they survive a fight against the evilest of the giants, Bloodbottler, and engage the services of H. M. The Queen to capture these giant unwanted menaces to prevent human beans from being eaten. All in a day’s work.

The BFG

©Marc Brenner

Stage puppetry has come a long way in recent years; it all started with War Horse. Thankfully The BFG hasn’t gone full AI in its approach to creating the illusion; it’s gone back to basics with teams of puppeteers who make their characters truly come to life in a most human way. And the faces of the puppets are truly outstanding in that they absolutely capture their characters’ attributes. I realised at one point that the eyes of the BFG puppet were staring straight into mine and – I kid you not – you could see into his soul; that’s how believable they are.

The other devilish trick this production has up its sleeve is that Sophie, the BFG and Bloodbottler are all represented by both puppets and actors, at the same time. This doubles the characterisations and makes the story come even more to life. In fact, there are three scales of puppetry/actor: massive giant puppet with child actor, adult actor with child puppet, and another scale where the giant is a small puppet, with the other adult characters smaller puppets and the child actors being represented by teeny tiny puppets – such playfulness works brilliantly.

Dreams are made of this

©Marc Brenner

The BFG’s personal speciality is being a dream creator and controller, and the production’s visual representation of this is enchanting. Dreams whizz around the auditorium like speedy miniature comets, or they are born or captured in glass jars where colours whirl and lights pulsate. The BFG transmits a dream by blowing a huge trumpet at someone; the recipient is then bathed in light as the dream takes hold. I’ve often wondered how dreams catch on; now I know.

The Queen

©Marc Brenner

This production relies heavily on its two child actors playing the parts of Sophie and Kimberley. No pressure, kids, but it’s a big ask. At our performance, Sophie was played by Ellemie Shivers and Kimberley by Maisy Lee, and they are both sensational. Young Ms Shivers in particular has both remarkable comic timing and an extraordinary insight into characterisation for someone so young. It is, appropriately, a dream of a performance. And Ms Lee also completely holds her own on a stage full of adults, neither of them ever putting a foot wrong with the most assured performances.

Bloodbottler at his worst

©Marc Brenner

John Leader’s BFG is another beguiling performance. From the fluidity of his movement to his superb vocal characterisation, he creates the kindliest, most thoughtful, and indeed most self-deprecatory giant you could ever imagine. Helena Lymbery is a delight as the Queen, positively itching to get herself away from the suppressive flunkies and get her teeth stuck into an adventure. There is a truly hilarious double-act from Philip Labey and Luke Sumner as Captains Smith and Frith, taking military stiff upper lips where they’ve never been before, treading a fantastic line between parody and credibility; Mr Sumner’s running joke about Frith’s vocal delivery has everyone in stitches. Richard Riddell’s grotesque Bloodbottler is the perfect baddie, and Sargon Yelda wins us over as Tibbs, the Queen’s butler undergoing a crise de confiance.

Bloodbottler

©Marc Brenner

And it goes without saying that all the puppeteers are extraordinarily gifted in the way they bring humanity to their characters. I was even engrossed by observing how carefully they made the smaller puppets walk; the accurate placing of heel, then arch, then ball of foot before launching off on the toe before the other heel comes down. Such attention to detail!

With its inventive helicopter scene and its (let’s not beat about the bush) farting conclusion, this is one of the best examples of children’s theatre I can remember. If you want to create theatregoers of the future, this is how you do it. The BFG is thrilling children – and adults – at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre until 7th February and then has a month in Chichester before a run in Singapore. I can’t recommend this strongly enough.

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – The Forsyte Saga, Parts One and Two, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 5th December 2025

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Soames

©Cam Harle

It’s impossible to underestimate the importance of The Forsyte Saga to the nation’s psyche in the 1960s. The Queen’s coronation aside, it was one of the first examples of event TV, when Britain stopped doing everything else to catch up with what Soames, Irene and Fleur would get up to next. One of my first television memories is a distinctly black-and-white Soames rushing back into the flames of Robin Hill to rescue his beloved paintings and not making it out alive. That and the Tingha and Tucker Club, naturally.

Company

©Cam Harle

John Galsworthy’s evergreen Forsyte books – nine in total – were published between 1906 and 1933 and chronicle the lives of a ruthless family who knew only two things: the value of money and the importance of repressing one’s emotions. Anything that could jeopardise either of those two activities was to be eliminated from their lives. But people are only human, and they do have emotions, and money isn’t always available, so inevitably real life would permeate their walls and disrupt them.

Fleur

©Cam Harle

Shaun McKenna and Lin Coghlan’s adaptation – originally for radio but now re-adapted for the stage – concentrates first on the beautiful Irene who cannot abide her husband Soames, and second on Fleur, the curious and independent daughter of Soames and his second wife Annette. And, of course, in Soames, Galsworthy created an extraordinary character – a true villain but with a multifaceted personality, answerable to nobody except his father, and who has to mask his human foibles in order to preserve that Forsyte resolute respectability.

Soames

©Cam Harle

The Man of Property, as the first book of the saga is named, cleverly plays on the double meaning of the word property, suggesting not only Soames’ desire to have a great house to live in, but also his need to acquire things – and more disastrously, people. Fleur acts as a narrator for both plays – although less so in the second play – as she picks her way through an understanding of what happened before her birth, and what elements have combined to make the adult Fleur who she is. Will she go on to become a Woman of Property?

Irene

©Cam Harle

The late Victorian and Edwardian times are perhaps not seen today as the most intriguing eras of our history – certainly not in comparison to fifty or sixty years ago when TV’s The Forsyte Saga led into the likes of Upstairs Downstairs and The Duchess of Duke Street. However, Galsworthy’s characters and their stories examine the most timeless of themes: familial relationships, secrets and lies, honour and dishonour, and they will never become irrelevant. Soames’ rape of his wife is a pivotal act, not illegal at the time but totally barbaric and unforgivable. And, of course, a modern audience quite correctly condemns him outright for it, as indeed do many of his peers. Yet, in one respect, he’s merely obeying the advice of his father, whom we see as an irascible but rather likeable and funny old duffer. Curiously, we don’t condemn him in the same way. This is all part of the gripping story line that gives you so much to consider and assess, which is why you’re hooked throughout.

Bosinney and Irene

©Cam Harle

That said, there’s a definite imbalance in the two plays being performed together as a whole. Part One, Irene, is truly brilliant throughout. You can’t wait for each scene to develop as you find out more about all these fascinating people. And the play ends on a delicious sudden moment that makes you yearn to watch the second part instantly.

Jon and AnneHowever, Part Two, Fleur, doesn’t quite have the same irresistible plot. We miss the rich tapestry of the bickering, repressed older generation – the Forsyte Exchange, as Fleur puts it; it’s replaced by fewer characters, and a simpler, more straightforward domestic love triangle story. It’s a credit to the production that it still holds our interest, but it’s simply not quite as absorbing. I guess one can only blame Galsworthy for that (and he’s long dead). It’s possible to see each play separately on a different day, or to immerse yourself in a Forsytian binge with Irene as a matinee and Fleur in the evening. Watching the plays in that chronological order makes much more sense; I think if you see Fleur first, some aspects simply won’t make sufficient sense or at least won’t resonate as well.

Irene, Bosinney and the Exchange

©Cam Harle

It’s a magnificent double-production; a first-rate cast, fantastic storytelling, a delightfully bare stage, save for a few chairs and occasional other props, quality costume design, elegant writing and effective direction. Luxuriously rich red curtains adorn the back of the stage for Irene, that both indicate the wealth of the family but also represent those secrets that are hidden when the curtains close. They’re removed for Fleur, to reveal the stark, featureless brick wall that not only represents Robin Hill but gives the sense of a terrifying exposure, with no hiding place. Alex Musgrave’s telling lighting design works most effectively in Irene, where it starkly delineates her private bedroom against which she locks her persistent husband.

Irene

©Cam Harle

The cast are uniformly superb, without the remotest weak link, creating a splendid ensemble. Flora Spencer-Longhurst controls the stage from the start as Fleur, combining her narrator role with a constantly growing understanding of her ancestors’ motivations and problems; a truly believable central character around which the entire five hours of theatre revolve. As her character becomes more mischievous and wilful, we still identify with her, despite her reckless decisions. Fiona Hampton absolutely captures Irene’s tragically unhappy marriage and completely inhabits the remarkable dignity that the character maintains throughout. It is a shame that there is comparatively little for the character to do as the second play moves to its conclusion.

Jo

©Cam Harle

There is much in the way of clever doubling-up of roles over the two plays. Jamie Wilkes is excellent as the outcast Jo Forsyte in the first play, subtly portraying his slowly growing affection for Irene; and as the honest and positive young Michael Mont, who marries Fleur. His physical comedy of trying to take Fleur on a boat ride is hilarious, and he delivers a terrific exchange with Soames about the “ownership” of women. Andy Rush, too, is superb as Bosinney, the sharply determined architect with whom Irene has an affair, and the sunny-dispositioned Jon Forsyte who becomes an irresistible possession to Fleur in the same way that Irene was to her father.

Company

©Cam Harle

Michael Lumsden gives us a brilliant Old Jolyon – his death scene was genuinely moving – as well as some other entertaining characterisations, and Nigel Hastings is superb as James Forsyte, Soames’ father, as the kindly and earnest older Jo Forsyte, and the aggressively opinionated painter Harold Blade. Florence Roberts’ marvellously effervescent young June steals a wonderful scene when she leaves her indelible mark on the remaining members of the Forsyte Exchange; as well as giving us an emotionally powerful Anne – Jon’s increasingly alarmed wife – and an amusingly manipulative Annette.

Irene and Soames

©Cam Harle

The truly outstanding performance comes from Joseph Millson as Soames, totally embodying the character’s slimy, reptilian nature, constantly lurking as a malign presence in Irene’s life, opting to endanger Annette’s life in order to obtain his son, and generally observing how his understanding of human nature is becoming more outdated as life goes on. I’ve only seen Mr Millson perform comedy roles before, and he uses his fantastic comic timing to perfection in this otherwise non-comedic role, placing his words and movements with absolute precision to create a riveting characterisation that endures long after curtain down.

It’s a stunning production that frequently gave me Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby chills. It’s unfortunate that the sheer thrills of Part One don’t quite endure into Part Two, but it’s still more than good enough to recommend it without hesitation. A hugely entertaining double bill, and an excellent Christmas offering from the RSC.

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Cyrano de Bergerac, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 7th October 2025

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If there’s one thing that everyone knows about Cyrano de Bergerac, it’s that he was blessed with an enormous conk. There’s no other way of putting it; coquettishly disguised in the promotional image for the production on the programme and posters. It blights Cyrano’s life, despite his bravura and positivity, and always holds him back from telling his true feelings for fear of rejection and ridicule.

Cyrano and RoxaneFor a play that presents as a frothy comedy, Edmond Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac, in this new adaptation by Simon Evans and Debris Stevenson, is packed with serious issues. Its essential message – one as old as time – is to be yourself; arguably none of the chief protagonists achieve this, and (spoiler alert) it doesn’t end happily for any of them. The play also stresses the significance of language; much as one may philosophise today that “the destination is not as important as the journey”, in CdB, the meaning of what you say is not as important as the way you say it. Roxane and Christian believe that they are in love with each other, but they need Cyrano to express it for them in his miraculously eloquent way. If it was left to Christian, all Roxane would hear is I Love You and it’s just not enough embellishment. Honestly, you can’t satisfy some people.

Roxane and ChristianIn a rewarding development from Anthony Burgess’ long-established translation of the play, in this production the sense of verse is much more modern and less intrusive. Rostand’s original 1897 play is written in verse and Burgess’ adaptation is heavy-handed and, frankly, overwhelming. Evans and Stevenson have created a much subtler format, creating a metrical language for each main character, but it’s only Cyrano’s lines that feel like verse, and they help to make the character stand out above the crowd.

Ragueneau and ChristianThey’ve made some sensible cuts to the original – probably they could have made more, as that first scene set in the theatre still has the ability to irritate with its total irrelevance to the rest of the play. The staging of that scene is bizarrely cumbersome. Not only do we all have to stand for the entrance of Comte de Guiche – I could see him pointedly waiting for me to get on my feet – three members of the audience are then required to vacate their seats, clutching coats, trying not to spill drinks or drop programmes, to reposition themselves at the side of the auditorium whilst the Comte’s party move into their prime position; only for the party to move out again and have the audience members return again – a frustratingly annoying sequence that constantly obstructed my view with people standing, heads bobbing, and all that shenanigans.

CyranoOverall, however, it’s a very satisfying modern reworking of the text; delightfully playful even in its darkest moments. There’s an ingenious updating of the acrostic fight scene between Cyrano and Valvert, although given the importance of words in the play, the occasional flinging around of the F word comes across as simply inappropriate or a cheap laugh at best. Still, cheap laughs are enjoyable.

CyranoCyrano tells a running account that he meets death every so often, bows graciously to him, and then tells him to go away, which he obligingly does – until the end. Simon Evans has characterised this presence of death into a small boy, dressed as Cyrano and with his same magisterial nose, quietly observing him on the sidelines at pivotal moments. He’s a creepy presence, and the device works well, although I couldn’t quite understand why your death would be symbolised by you as a child.

de Guiche and RoxaneGrace Smart and Joshie Harriette have worked together to create a sumptuous set with evocative lighting. When you enter the auditorium, you’re struck by the stagey red curtains and beautifully varnished floorboards, all bathed in darkly golden half-light. Later the curtains give way to present a floral courtyard, a battle scene, and eventually a rather overgrown garden of heavenly delights. In another unexpected joy, Cyrano, very amusingly, has his own house band who follow him wherever he goes. Like an ageing television personality keeping up his fading presence, it’s a brilliant idea, beautifully executed and with great incidental compositions by Alex Baranowski.

in battleMost impressive about the entire production are the performances of all members of the cast, not one of whom puts a foot wrong or mis-stresses a syllable. Even the minor characters have their moments of brilliance, like Sunny Chung’s wordplay between rain and pain when Sister Claire is trying to comfort Roxane, or Caolan McCarthy’s Arnauld shouting out I’m a Christian! or Daniel Norford’s Louis’ confession that his shooting aim is useless. Chris Nayak gives a scene-stealing performance as the outrageously hammy actor Monfleury, and Greer Dale-Foulkes is superb as Abigail, constantly surprising everyone by her immediate attraction to handsome men and her extraordinary sexual history. Christian Patterson is excellent as cook/innkeeper Ragueneau, and there’s great support from Philip Cumbus as Le Bret and David Mildon as Carbon.

ChristianScott Handy is a delightfully vain and aloof de Guiche, strutting arrogantly until real life and the levelling of war bring him down to earth. Levi Brown is very convincing as the fresh-faced but hopelessly inexpressive Christian, using his Brummie accent to perfection. Susannah Fielding gives a magnificent performance as Roxane, girlishly excited, full of daring, petulant when Christian cannot find the words she wants to hear and genuinely moving in the final scene.

RoxaneAdrian Lester is fantastic as Cyrano, always maintaining a presence of nobility and eloquence, nimbly cavorting around in his stage combat scenes (the swordplay is stunning throughout), hugely vulnerable when he cannot open his heart; a truly dynamic and captivating performance of the highest quality. His imitating Christian’s Brummie accent to fool the listening Roxane is one of the funniest things I’ve seen and heard in ages.

CyranoIt’s not a perfect production; the overlong first scene has some messy staging, and the battle scenes are difficult to follow. But they are very much compensated for by the performances, the emotions and the comedy highlights. The RSC are on to a winner here!

 

Production photos by Marc Brenner

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Royal Shakespeare Company at The Other Place, Stratford-upon-Avon, 30th August 2025

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The Two Gentlemen of Verona never seems much of an attraction for theatre makers. In my fifty-five plus years of theatregoing, I’ve only seen it performed once before, in a 2011 highly modernised version where Valentine and Proteus were rock guitarists, and the director couldn’t decide whether to reveal the unseemly aspects of the play or just do it for laughs. Fast forward fourteen years to Joanna Bowman’s production of the play for the RSC, in another highly modernised version where all the actors are musicians and they deal with the unseemly aspects of the play by removing them completely.

StagingThat’s possibly just as well, as this (now closed) production was very much aimed at introducing young people to Shakespeare, with musical numbers, broad comedy and a real live dog. Already one of Shakespeare’s shortest plays, the cuts to the text brought the show in at just around an hour and half with no interval. On the face of it, it sounds like a decent experiment in modernising, shortening and adjusting the emphasis of the play to make it meaningful and entertaining to a family audience.

Musician castHowever, regrettably there was so much that was wrong with this production that it failed to spark any interest in the plot, and those 90 minutes or so felt interminably long. Basics first: the staging. The Other Place is a marvellous acting space that can be configured differently every time it’s used. For this production, it wasn’t so much performed in the round as in the square, and there were too many sequences where the actors simply had their backs to half the audience, and did not move around sufficiently to keep themselves properly visible to the whole auditorium. In addition, there was a huge metal walkway suspended over the acting space, linking two opposite corners, which allowed for actors to walk from one end to the other or indeed to suspend in the middle. This walkway was directly in front of the upstairs seats, so any actors who were performing at the far end of the stage were obscured; to be honest, it looked like they had their heads cut off. Not a great experience for the upstairs audience.

Two GentsThe main purpose of a theatre production must be to tell its story as clearly as possible. Sadly, I found this production very difficult to follow, certainly due in part to the machete that they’d taken to the original text. For example, it wasn’t until the final scene where the Duke pardons the outlaws that it was obvious that they were outlaws because he had banished them. There also seemed to be no explanation as to why Julia became Sebastian – it just sort of happened. The musical numbers came across as noisy and unclear – a very muddy reverberating sound that made the words difficult to hear, individual instruments doing solos could not be distinguished above the general noise; and two of the lead actors seemed to me to be overacting alarmingly. I don’t know if this was an attempt to make their words clearer to younger ears, but I’m afraid I found it rather hard to take them seriously.

Launce and CrabThey do say, never work with children or animals; nevertheless, here we had Lossi the lurcher, playing the role of Crab, Launce’s dog. I’m sure he’s a good dog and a lovely chap, but he added very little to the proceedings – there were a couple of instances where I think he was meant to do some kind of trick or endearing action, but he just sat there and looked bored. Maybe he took his cue from the audience, because sadly I found this a very dull production, with very little to entertain.

The DukeOf course, it wasn’t all bad. The scene where the Duke (Darrell Brockis) catches Valentine (Jonny Khan) hiding the rope ladder in order to rescue and escape with Silvia was very amusingly done, and the production gave us a fairly good understanding of the character of Proteus (Lance West) and his far from gentlemanly ways. But unfortunately, the good aspects weren’t enough to redeem this disappointing production.

 

Production photos by Helen Murray

Two Disappointing for More!

Review – Fat Ham, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 30th August 2025

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We’ve all been there. You know the problem: your uncle murders your dad and then marries your mum, and just as the wedding celebrations are getting underway, the ghost of your dad arrives to confirm your suspicions and instructs you to avenge his death. That may be just another day in Elsinore, but it’s not quite so common in 21st century North Carolina. This isn’t Hamlet, but the story of Juicy, the black, queer son of Pap and Tedra, studying online for a University of Phoenix degree in Human Resources. OK, it’s not exactly Wittenberg, but nor does he have a Rosencrantz and Guildenstern studying with him. What do you think this is, Stoppard?

Olisa OdeleThere’s no doubt that Hamlet continues to inspire modern writers to tell fresh stories of betrayal, revenge, honour and liberation. James Ijames’ Pulitzer Prize-winning Fat Ham is a welcome addition to the canon, a true explosion of joy on the Swan Theatre stage, written with rhythm and panache, creating memorable characters and, in Sideeq Heard’s fabulous production, boasting some tremendous performances. Recognising how it harks back to its source material is a constant delight, with the audience enjoying Ijames’ own equivalents of a “play within a play”, Yorick, and mentions of “laying in your lap” and “ay, there’s the rub”.

Ghost of PapDespite the hilariously funny script and its comic creations, Juicy’s dilemma is real. How can he maintain a relationship with his mother now that she’s married a wicked murderer who picks on him and shames him in public, and who is as diametrically opposite to Juicy in character as it’s possible to be? How can he hold his own when his world is falling apart? The problems he faces are as real as the problems Hamlet faces; can he survive where Hamlet didn’t?

Happy familiesIt’s full of delightful coups-de-theatre, from the whizzing tablecloths in the opening moments, to the revelations of the characters’ secrets, the disappearance of a dead body, and the spectacular surprise finale. Despite Juicy’s realisation that the Hamlet story can only end in tragedy for all (spoiler alert: in Shakespeare’s play, nearly everyone dies), Fat Ham ends in a triumph of positivity, with everyone having discovered or revealed something new about themselves. It takes Polonius’ advice of to thine own self be true and cranks it up to full blast. I shall say no more, because the surprises are a huge part of the fun.

Karaoke timeMaruti Evans’ set reveals a comfortable suburban back garden, all planned for a sunny barbecue party, with suggestions of the rooms of the house seen through the windows and patio doors; it’s all very Pleasant Valley Sunday. It undergoes a dramatic change at the end, which works perfectly for the finale – I’ll say no more. Dominique Fawn Hill has a great time creating eye-catching costumes for Andi Osho’s flighty Tedra and Sandra Marvin’s churchy Rabby, as well as Opal’s delightfully unsuitable dress, the immaculate military uniform for Corey Montague-Sholay’s Larry, and Sule Rimi’s classy white suit emitting a smoky aurora as the Ghost. Kieran Taylor-Ford’s Tio wears a relaxed party/beach outfit, and Olisa Odele’s Juicy – as Hamlet – wears the traditional mourning black, with just the occasional splash of colour.

Sule Rimi and Corey Montague-SholayCentral to the story, and hardly ever off stage, is Olisa Odele as Juicy; decent, reserved, eloquent, always attuned to his own thoughts and concerns. Unwavering in his attempts to do the right thing by his mom, and even when she disappoints him with her behaviour, he always stands by her like a good son. It’s a fantastic portrayal, because, despite any temptation to loosen up and relax, he always maintains an aloofness, observing from the sidelines, keeping a perfect connection to Hamlet himself. Sule Rimi is also terrific in his portrayals of Juicy’s appalling uncle and new stepfather Rev, a homophobic bully and archetypal competitive dad, grotesque in his old-fashioned “man of the house” role; and as Pap’s ghost, a plain-talking brute who continues his demands beyond the grave.

Sandra MarvinAndi Osho gives us a hilarious, fun-loving, flirtatious, slightly vacuous Tedra, all façade and knowingly doing wrong because she’s afraid of Rev, but lovable all the same; and the ever-reliable Sandra Marvin is wonderful as Rabby, casting silent glances of disapproval that speak a thousand words, breaking into unrestrained gospel accompaniments at the drop of a hat, and always with that impish twinkle in her eye. Jasmine Elcock’s marvellously sulky and obstructive Kieran Taylor-FordOpal reveals with her every stomp that she doesn’t want to be anywhere near her oppressive mother. Corey Montague-Sholay gives us a beautifully underplayed and elegant Larry, and Kieran Taylor-Ford is warm and funny as Juicy’s best friend Tio, who comes to appreciate Gingerbread men in an unexpected way.

Clever, endlessly surprising, and tremendously funny; everything about it warms your heart and is irresistably adorable. This got an instant standing ovation at a Saturday matinee, which was fully deserved.

Production photos by Ali Wright

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Review – The Winter’s Tale, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 22nd July 2025

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A moon – or is it a planet? – stares down at us; huge, nebulous, ominous, as we enter the auditorium for Yaël Farber’s production of Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale. It reminds us that we are tiny people minimised by this great celestial influence; and wherever we go or whatever we do, we can’t escape it. It’s as old as Time – one of the play’s main themes – and it sets the tone for a certain otherworldliness for this production, which seems to put most of its theatrically inventive eggs in one basket – Act Four – leaving the rest of the play to fend for itself.

Time/AutolycusI always worry when an RSC production announces that Time will be one of its central themes – yes, I’m looking at you Macbeth – because it can overwhelm all the other aspects of the play. However, here, the emphasis on Time is neatly and appropriately placed, wrapping the Chorus and the character of Autolycus into one character. The Winter’s Tale features one of Shakespeare’s most curious structures for a play. Three Acts of tragedy, then a sixteen-year pause followed by two Acts of comedy; four Acts in the Sicilian court, one Act playing pastoral in Bohemia. This production makes a point of highlighting these contrasts, which not only makes for a visual spectacle, but deliberately unsettles the audience trying to bring both parts of the play into balance.

StatuesqueIt’s among Shakespeare’s least cosy comedies, with destructive jealousy, a wife turned into a statue, an amiable son killed, and the frequent appearance of Time, reminding us to enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think. Indeed, the production does take a few liberties which might annoy the purist. Not only that aforementioned popular song from the 1940s, but they’ve inserted a little Brecht, and there’s an exchange between Autolycus and the Clown that includes the insults bellend and wanker. It’s mildly amusing; fortunately, the play is big and strong enough to survive the occasional meddling.

CamilloBut the production is at its most effective when it leaves the work to Shakespeare. The chilling story of Leontes’ idiotic suspicions that his wife Hermione has been unfaithful with his brother Polixenes and that his brother is the father of Hermione’s unborn child is told with quiet, dignified clarity. After the interval we leave Sicilia for the ritualistic fire and dance fiesta that is Perdita hosting the sheep-shearing solstice festival; the programme notes tell us that the production explores Perdita’s connection to the myth of Persephone/Proserpina. Hold that thought. When we return to Sicilia for the final resolution, all is sedate again.

FiestaIt’s very clever dramaturgy, and there’s no doubting the visual and indeed musical impact of the solstice scene; but it’s such a contrast to what went before that, more than standing out like a sore thumb, it actually feels unintegrated with the rest of the play. After the lean, business-like atmosphere of the first act, this just feels like so much padding. Whilst watching it I could only question how this portrayal of the union of Perdita and Florizel, and the subsequent disapproval by Polixenes, in any way helps our understanding of the plot. I don’t think it does. Fortunately, the final “statue” scene is presented and acted immaculately, and that’s what you remember when you go home.

AntigonusThere is little in the way of set – and that works to the production’s advantage. All the changes of mood and setting are suggested by Tim Lutkin’s lighting design and Reuben Cohen and Oli Quintrell’s video projections. The incidental music composed by Max Perryment is hugely evocative and contributes enormously to the atmosphere and storytelling; there’s suspense in every chord.

Polixenes and LeontesA strong cast brings class and gravitas to the main roles. Bertie Carvel is excellent as Leontes – seemingly affable, flipping into viciously jealous in an instant. With his reputation at stake, this Leontes shuts himself off from all reason, delivering indiscriminate cruelty in all directions. Like a divine version of BBC Verify, when the words of the Oracle deliver their verdict on the innocence of Hermione and Polixenes, and the tyranny of Leontes, his fragile world simply falls apart. In these times of fake news and AI deception, it would be very useful to have a reliable Oracle like that come in every so often to make us see the truth.

HermioneMadeline Appiah is superb as Hermione; gracious, kindly, the perfect hostess, who gathers magnificent internal resolve in the face of her husband’s stupidity and vindictiveness. And she makes a fantastic statue; every eye in the Royal Shakespeare Theatre concentrates on her to see if she makes a tiny move and there isn’t an iota of a blink. There’s a very touching scene at the end when Hermione and Perdita are reunited, Ms Appiah’s joy at seeing her long lost daughter almost brought a tear to the eye – as did the excellent Amelda Brown as her “foster” shepherdess parent, knowing she must give back the daughter who was always only ever “on loan”.

PaulinaAïcha Kossoko brings power and a no-nonsense grimness to the role of Paulina, stepping in to protect her friend Hermione’s reputation and whatever future might be ahead. Great performances too from John Light as the wronged Polixenes and Raphael Sowole’s delicately spoken and faithful Camillo. Trevor Fox brings out all the mischief and cheerful lawlessness of his chain-smoking Autolycus, and there’s nice support from Leah Haile’s Perdita and Matthew Flynn’s Antigonus.

Perdita and FlorizelIt’s a moody, atmospheric production that tells its story clearly, apart from a total flight of fantasy in Act Four which just left me wondering why. But if you ever wanted a clear account of the characters of Leontes and Hermione so that you fully understand their story, this is the production for you.

P. S. Not so much exit pursued by a bear, more exit, listlessly observed by an indolent bear. But it’s very hard to act out that stage direction credibly.

Production photos by Marc Brenner

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – 4.48 Psychosis, Royal Shakespeare Company at The Other Place, Stratford-upon-Avon, 15th July 2025

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Sarah Kane’s final play is a challenge to any director or cast. How do you treat this poetic but agonising piece of writing, which leaves few clues as to how it should be staged, with the dignity and respect that it deserves, without simply creating a gloomfest? It cries out for its voice to be heard and demands that you at least try to understand the mental torture of its writer. But, when all’s said and done, it’s not a lecture or TED talk, it’s a play and decisions have to be made as to how to present it.

CastIn what must be an almost unique venture, the entire original creative team have reunited 25 years later in this co-production with the Royal Court Theatre, at whose Jerwood Theatre Upstairs the play was first produced. Not only the same cast and the same director, James Macdonald; it’s the same team of designer, lighting and sound. So, even without seeing the original, I feared this might be an exercise in preserving something in aspic rather than an attempt to find new things in the text that were not obvious 25 years ago.

MirrorIt is, however, a brand new production, and James Macdonald and designer Jeremy Herbert have come up with a masterstroke; a huge mirror, the same dimensions as the stage, slanting at a daunting angle, reflecting the on-stage activity as a backdrop, and even capturing the first few rows of the audience to add to its theatricality. Nigel Edwards’ inspired lighting design highlights the two chairs and table in the mirror to create some truly impressive effects, and Ben Walden’s projection adds to the magic by turning the table surface into a window on the world, or blasting the entire stage with white noise, offering an insight into the clarity of vision and thought (or lack thereof) experienced by our protagonist.

Daniel EvansEach of the three actors takes on many guises over the 70 minutes; not only someone suffering from severe depression, but doctors, friends, colleagues and all the other voices who do their best to offer support or lend reason to the central character. And it’s in those side characterisations that Kane gives the cast an occasional opportunity to lighten the weight of the text. There’s a truly laugh out loud moment when Daniel Evans, portraying a doctor who’s clearly had a long hard day, bursts out with I fucking hate this job and I need my friends to be sane – only to realise that it was a Did I say that out loud moment and then have to apologise profusely.

Madeleine PotterMacdonald places his actors in all sorts of unusual positions for several of their speeches – resting flat on the ground in a crucifixion or savasana pose, or on top of the table with their head tilted over the edge, talking directly to the mirror, or furiously writhing on the table, all of which create fascinating images in the mirror, helping us to see them, literally, from a different perspective. It sounds gimmicky, but it works. The actors write backwards on the table top – medical prescriptions, or simply their thoughts – so that we can see the writing in the mirror; a clever touch.

Jo McInnesThe ensemble of Daniel Evans, Jo McInnes and Madeleine Potter dovetail their speeches and actions immaculately, with superb vocal clarity throughout. One of the most powerful moments comes when Jo McInnes struggles violently on top of the table, so that in the mirror she appears trapped within a tiny box, a true metaphor for the state of her mind. The whole play is performed with devastating sincerity but emotionally controlled, peppered with daringly long pauses where the characters find neither the words, the impetus, nor the need, to speak.

White NoiseSarah Kane submitted her text to the Royal Court in 1999 and within a few days had taken her own life. It’s impossible to separate the personal tragedy from the theatrical product, but it’s clear that this is a lucid, deliberate, structured piece of work. The title, it is said, comes from the fact that she would wake at 4.48 due to her mental anguish. As her text states: At 4.48 when sanity visits for one hour and twelve minutes I am in my right mind. When it has passed I shall be gone again. One hour and twelve minutes is almost exactly how long it takes to perform the play; is this as an affirmation that the piece is written in those brief times of sanity surrounded by mental torture?

RSVP ASAPA very intense piece of writing given a great performance with an inspired setting. This isn’t the kind of play one enjoys; rather it’s an opportunity to bear witness to a state of mind that one hopes one never encounters personally but which is very real and prevalent all around us. And it is the sad swansong of a huge talent taken too young.

Production photos by Marc Brenner

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – The Constant Wife, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 1st July 2025

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Are we seeing a resurgence in the influence of Somerset Maugham? After Theatre Royal Bath’s blissful revival of The Circle last year, now comes Laura Wade’s invigorating version of The Constant Wife, his 1926 sparkler about infidelity and how to handle it. Give me a revival of the 1976 musical Liza of Lambeth next and I’ll be very happy. Maugham’s original play tells the story of the relationship between John, a Harley Street doctor married to Constance, and Marie-Louise, a spoilt and vacuous pretty little thing, married to Mortimer. Both Constance’s mother and sister are fully aware of the affair and differ as to whether she should be told about it. But Constance has known about it all along and has been biding her time to work it to her best advantage.

ConstanceWhere Maugham tells the story as a simple, linear narrative, Laura Wade’s deft re-ordering puts the affair out in the open right from the start and then goes back in time so that we can see how Constance discovered the affair a year earlier. There’s nothing Laura Wade likes more than to play with time as she did very effectively in both The Watsons and Home I’m Darling – and The Constant Wife is no exception. Both HID and TCW feature a strong central female backed by a purposefully resilient mother, but where Judy in HID revels in the lifestyle of a meek 50s housewife, much to her mother’s consternation, Constance embodies feminism by knowing precisely what she wants and how to get it, while her mother is the type who feels that if a man plays away from home it’s entirely the woman’s fault. One of the best lines of the play is when Constance tells her mother why she always knew that Bernard wasn’t the man for her: “he was a trifle too much inclined to lie down on the floor and let me walk over him”. It’s a line that gives you an instant insight into her character.

John and Marie-LouiseThey say that knowledge is power; by concealing the fact that she knew about the affair, Constance starts to create a new financially independent life for herself hidden in plain sight. If this were an episode of The Traitors it would be like winning a shield and not telling anyone. However, neither Maugham’s Constance nor Wade’s updated version ever puts a foot out of character, retaining her dignity and total faithfulness to her class and her status. Indeed, the whole production’s adherence to its original 1920s setting and atmosphere is one of its greatest virtues; the occasional – and extremely funny – double entendre notwithstanding.

CastMy only quibble here is that Jamie Cullum’s jazz-oriented incidental music, whilst doubtless of the age, feels a little out of balance with the rest of the production. There’s no sense of the Jazz Age in the text or the characterisations – Marie-Louise could easily have been portrayed as a flapper but she decidedly isn’t – so the music didn’t work for me. That aside, the other creative aspects are excellent. Ryan Day’s subtle lighting suggests the world outside the Harley Street drawing room, Anna Fleischle and Cat Fuller’s costumes reflect the characterisations perfectly; even the fabrics and objets d’art that Martha sells in her shop are spot-on – that “lovely” lamp is hideous by the way, but that’s all part of the fun.

Bernard and JohnAs well as reshaping the sequences of the plotline, Laura Wade’s script takes all the best Maugham scenes and many of his brilliant killer lines and smartly updates the scenario with the removal of an unnecessary character (Barbara), enhancement of the character of Bentley, the butler, and some lovely meta moments, currently very en vogue. I particularly liked the whole notion of the play that Constance and Bernard are going to see and how sometimes you need a refresher after the interval. Tamara Harvey’s direction is clear and delightfully lacking in gimmickry, although there were a few scenes where our view from Row F of the Ground (stalls) was blocked – four actors positioned in a diagonal line across the stage so that only the nearest could be seen; I know from ecstatic laughter around me that we missed some obvious gems of physical comedy, which is a shame.

Constance and Mrs CulverThe cast are uniformly superb, each giving terrific performances. Raj Bajaj is brilliant as Bernard, perpetually uncomfortable with himself and on the brink of exploding with love for Constance. Amy Morgan brings out all the comedy of sibling exasperation as sister Martha, and Luke Norris as John gives an intelligent portrayal of a husband caught out but not prepared to take all the blame. Emma McDonald’s Marie-Louise wheedles her way out of an awkward situation beautifully, cleverly showing us how unclever her character really is.

ConstanceKate Burton is pitch-perfect as Mrs Culver, Constance’s mother, delivering her fantastic lines with knowing authority and impish fun; and there’s great support from Daniel Millar’s perplexed and easily fooled Mortimer and Mark Meadows as the super-reliable Bentley. But it is Rose Leslie who takes centre stage throughout with a thoroughly believable, smart and witty portrayal of Constance, handling all her inner circle with various degrees of manipulativeness, apart from her only truly honest relationship, with Bentley, Bentleywhere she can completely be herself.

An excellent production of a timeless play, brought smartly to life by a neat adaptation. Don’t underestimate Maugham – he’s better than you think he is.

 

Production photos by Johan Persson

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Titus Andronicus, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 29th April 2025

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One of Shakespeare’s earliest hits, Titus Andronicus holds a strange place in the Bard’s canon. Its authorship is a matter of some debate; perhaps he wrote it all, or some of it, or it was based on something written by the likes of Kyd or Marlowe. Unusually for Shakespeare, it’s a Roman tragedy but not based on historical characters – indeed Ovid’s Metamorphoses appears to have been one of the prime sources that inspired its writing. It was probably conceived as a crowd-pleaser, because revenge comedies were all the rage in 1588. But tastes change, and for the last three centuries it’s been seen as rather unworthy of Shakespeare’s pen.

TitusPerhaps it’s because we’re so used to Shakespeare subtly weaving so many threads and nuances into his plays that Titus Andronicus is looked down upon. Apart from an early exploration of a London coming to terms with racism in the character of Aaron, and the play’s substantial derogatory use of the word black, primarily it’s all about revenge, pure and simple. Revenge is key; one of the most natural reactions that man can have, and one of the most ignoble. The play’s long first scene includes the first retaliatory act – Titus’ decision to have Tamora’s eldest son Alarbus murdered, simply because his own sons were killed in the war against the Goths. And from there, vengeance follows vengeance, and it all gets a bit out of hand.

LaviniaThe big question to ask of any production of Titus Andronicus is, just how gruesome do you want it to be? And I think the consensus is to be as bloody as you dare. Max Webster’s production is a surprisingly successful combination of high on blood but low on violence, in that most of the murders are committed in a very stylised manner, with a distanced swish of a knife and a flash of dramatic lighting that nevertheless causes the blood to flow. It’s also high on sinister too; whenever the pulley system on stage starts working, and a noose or a hook comes into view, you know there’s only going to be one outcome. As the death count increases, the styling becomes more intricate but more desperate; towards the end we’re reduced to sloshing from a bucket and using a couple of hosepipes.

Aaron Chiron DemetriusThe play starts on a high, with its riveting, long, opening scene where brothers Saturninus and Bassianus are setting out the reasons to the crowd why they should become the next Roman emperor; only for the honour to be given to Titus, who then bestows it on Saturninus. So much for democracy. The atmosphere is electric with political wrangling and backstabbing; and every aspect of the story is told clearly and powerfully. However, the second scene, between Aaron, Chiron and Demetrius is much harder to follow, and I felt a lull in the energy. It wasn’t until the return of Tamora that the storytelling became clear again.

CastJoanna Scotcher’s clinical stark white stage is the perfect setting for the intrigues and revenge killings to be carried out, allowing for a powerful contrast between the bright red blood and the pristine white marble. Lee Curran has plenty of opportunities for gripping lighting effects as the death count rises; however, whilst bringing a dead body wrapped in a sheet on stage with a bright fluorescent tube next to it probably looks great from the stalls, it appears clumsy and obvious from the galleries. And, whilst we’re on the subject of looking silly, although the stylised killings are very effective, the posturing and sub-balletic scene changes where benches are whirled, and a ladder passed here there and everywhere before finally going off stage just looks like the backstage crew have been replaced by members from Cirque de Soleil.

TitusIt’s vital for there to be some comic touches, as otherwise the play’s relentless piling of wanton horror on wanton horror just becomes too much. There’s a delightful moment of anachronistic use of music (usually something that irritates me personally!) when Aaron hums Delibes’ Lakme whilst preparing a grisly fate. And Max Webster builds in some delicate and surprisingly subtle moments of gallows humour, aided of course by Simon Russell Beale’s immaculate feel for comedy and killer line delivery.

Lavinia and TamoraThere are some excellent performances, although I also thought a few were a little underpowered. Joshua James is outstanding as the belligerent, sullen Saturninus who looks on leadership as his God-given right; his interpretation of the role is spot on throughout, with more than a little of John Hurt-style Caligula and Rik Mayall thrown in. As a contrast, Ned Costello’s brother Bassianus conveys all the character’s humility and likeability that might have made him a good, if perhaps unspectacular emperor.

CastIn a fascinating change from the original, Titus’ brother Marcus is now his sister Marcia Andronicus, played with great commitment and sincerity by Emma Fielding, bringing out the character’s decency, supportiveness and common sense. Letty Thomas gives a heartbreaking performance as Lavinia, from her initial shock followed by dignity when chosen as Saturninus’ wife despite being engaged to his brother, to her total destruction by the rapists Chiron and Demetrius.

Tamora and AaronWendy Kweh gives a very strong performance as Tamora, at first desperate in defeat and willing to do anything to save the life of her son; then inspired by revenge to submit to marriage to Saturninus whilst working with her lover Aaron to encourage the rape of Lavinia and the eventual fall of the House of Andronicus. And Natey Jones is excellent as Aaron, a complex villain who, whilst aspiring to be as evil an assassin as possible, still cherishes the baby in his arms. I did admire the not-so-subtle allusion to an Elon Musk’s DOGE moment.

TitusIt will be the casting of Simon Russell Beale in the title role that will attract the most theatregoers to this production, and he is, indeed, fantastic. A tremendous stage presence, you never sense for a moment that there might be a hint of insanity in his Titus as he maintains a superb dignity throughout, even in the most tortured moments of despair. Some commentators decry the play for its prosaic violence; but you only have to hear a few lines delivered by Mr Beale to appreciate the glorious poetry that lurks just beneath its surface. And his performance is a constant source of surprise; when death and devastation is all around him, all he can do is stop and laugh at the ridiculousness and hopelessness of the situation. His laughter is shocking and bizarre, but it’s totally right.

ChefThe famous “banquet” scene, where Chef Titus serves Tamora and Saturninus a pie containing her dead sons, is performed with a lovely balance of horror and comedy, and ends up with the bloodiest final tableau. It’s no surprise that the ticket holders nearest the stage are given protective blankets to shield themselves from spraying blood – gore blimey, indeed. The production treads a delicate balance between the horror and the hilarious and largely gets it right. The audiences of 1588 would be delighted to know that Titus Andronicus is still in safe hands – unless they get cut off.

Production photos by Marc Brenner

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Much Ado About Nothing, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 24th April 2025

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Attending a Royal Shakespeare Company production of a well-known and much-loved Shakespeare classic (I guess they’re all classics!) is an adventure into the imagination. Which setting will the fevered brain of a gifted director (in this case Michael Longhurst) have chosen to take us away from its traditional location? In this production, the house of Leonato, the Governor of Messina, and a visit from the Prince of Aragon, Don Pedro, still takes place in Messina – but at the final of the European Cup, where Messina FC have smashed those upstarts from Madrid FC, and tasted footie glory. Leonato owns the club, Don Pedro is the manager, Benedick is their captain and Claudio their new star player. The re-allocation of roles doesn’t end there; Beatrice is a sports reporter, Margaret works in PR for Leonato’s company and even Dogberry is head of security at the stadium.

FootballersWhen you enter the auditorium, it’s like you’ve mistakenly gone to see Dear England instead – all LED banners with football scores, team lists, formation diagrams, etc. We’re just inside the tunnel and can see through the gap into the huge, excited crowd and the green grass of the pitch. Interview cameras and screens are all set up. And, whilst, on the face of it, this has nothing to do with Much Ado About Nothing, visually, it’s a feast and really makes you excited for what’s about to happen next.

More FootballersUnfortunately, what happens next is a very confusing, messy, noisy scene where the victorious players take to the stage, managers, staff and players all congratulate and tease each other, and players jump in the bath. You also realise that the words you are hearing – those that you can make out at least, because the speech is very garbled in this opening scene – are not that faithful to those of the beloved Bard. I don’t recall, for example, chants of He’s gone in the bath, he’s gone in the bath in the original. It quickly becomes clear that these early scenes are merely a serving suggestion of the Much Ado we know and love and that some huge liberties have been taken with the text. It’s at moments like this that one discovers one’s own purist level – and mine was certainly crossed.

LeonatoHowever, as the production progresses, it becomes clear that the football analogy doesn’t really work, and the links between the plot and the Beautiful Game become fewer and slighter, so that, by the end, it feels like a relatively straightforward modern day interpretation of the play, with some very effective use of social media and modern tech. Don John’s deception of Claudio into believing that Hero has been unfaithful before their marriage is shown like a cross between deepfake and a revenge porn attack, with Hero’s face being digitally manipulated onto Margaret’s body whilst she’s filmed in flagrante delicto on Hero’s bed. The simplicity of the deception is surprisingly disturbing; and of course the social media comments depict Twitter/X at its most vicious.

Benedick hidingElsewhere, the famous scenes where Benedick and Beatrice separately overhear others talking about how much they are mutually desired work well. Benedick, who has been having a sports massage, hides himself in and around the portable massage bed. Beatrice hides herself behind a desk which had previously been used as a DJ mixing deck, with the result that she accidentally knocks a button which turns the disco lights on to the sound of I’m horny, horny, horny, horny. Ah yes; I hadn’t mentioned the use of music yet. There’s a lot of it. And it’s a mixture of pop classics and techno thump – and to be fair, it’s very entertaining and fits well. Who knew that the drunken Leonato would end the masked ball crooning Frank Sinatra’s My Way.

InterviewJon Bausor’s set is nothing if not arresting; the pool in the middle of the stage acts as the bath in the footballers’ changing room, as well as the centrepiece of Leonato’s garden – although a laborious entry by two backstage technicians adding a fountain to it during a scene is clumsy and distracting and adds very little to the effect. Upstairs opens to reveal Hero’s bedroom, although the angle from the stalls doesn’t always  make it clear what’s happening up there. However, the football and social media imagery work extremely well thanks to Tal Rosner’s excellent video design.

BenedickAs you would expect, there are some very good performances, although I was never convinced that Nick Blood’s otherwise very relatable Benedick was ever truly against marriage; with his successful football career taking up all his time, he just hadn’t needed it yet. But he brings out the humour from the text beautifully, both the original and the new elements; and participates in a very funny act of physical comedy when his massage towel is swiped away and plunges himself in the pool to protect his modesty – excellent ball control there. Freema Agyeman takes the cut-throat life of Beatrice the TV reporter into the character’s private life with her brutal, professional dismissiveness of Benedick, and delights in thwarting him with as little fuss as possible; her surprise instruction Kill Claudio is delivered as though it were next on her to do list, and his instant refusal just blanks him out of her life (temporarily, of course).

BeatriceDaniel Adeosun is very good as Claudio, highly believable as the sporting hero and easily duped fiancé; Eleanor Worthington-Cox’s Hero is more of a fun-lover than she is normally portrayed, Olivier Huband is a charismatic Don Pedro, and Jay Taylor is excellent as the wretched Borachio, doing Don John’s dirty work. There’s a gasp-inducing moment of stage combat when, infuriated by what Borachio has done, Mr Huband just head butts Mr Taylor, and it’s extremely effective! The portrayal of Dogberry and his team can often come across as dated and laborious in this play – a bit like the Porter in Macbeth it can either be astounding or cringeworthy – and I’m afraid the characterisations in this production didn’t really work for me. But there’s also excellent support from Nojan Khazai as the devious Don John, Gina Bramhill as Margaret and Tanya Franks as Antonia, Leonato’s wife.

Hero and ClaudioOnce the whole football theme starts to fade away, then the excellence of Shakespeare’s play starts to take shape; so despite the quality of the production and performances, for me this is only a partly successful show. But there is a lot to enjoy – just take a chill pill if you’re a purist!

 

Production photos by Marc Brenner

3-starsThree-sy Does It!