A Sad Tale’s Best for Winter
The Winter’s Tale
by William Shakespeare
Teddington Theatre Club, Hampton Hill Theatre until 1st February
Review by Andrew Lawston
The Winter’s Tale is a play of two halves, lurching from courtly psychological drama to rustic comedy with only an infamous bear chase sequence to separate the two. Teddington Theatre Company gamely takes on both elements in this ambitious but confident new production from director Michelle Hood at Hampton Hill Theatre. By her own admission in the Director’s Notes, Michelle veered towards romance and mythology rather than literal geography when deciding on the settings for the two kingdoms of Sicilia and Bohemia. This is somewhat supported by Shakespeare’s liberal approach to geography throughout the play, but no such liberties are taken with the text.
Against Fiona Auty’s austere backlit set of Regency pillars and stylised white trees, Neelaksh Sadhoo opens the play as Leontes, the king who starts to believe, with frankly implausible swiftness, that his wife Hermione (Alana Wren), who conveys infinite patience throughout for her dangerously petulant husband, has been unfaithful to him with his childhood friend King Polixenes of Bohemia. It’s a challenging part to portray convincingly, and Neelaksh gives a sincere portrayal of a genuinely tormented man, which sells the character’s bizarre plummet into jealous insanity.
As Leontes grows ever more paranoid, Matt O’Toole’s likeable Camillo is torn between loyalty and morality, opting to flee Sicilia with Polixenes. This perceived betrayal accelerates the chaos in the court as Dionne King’s wily Paulina and Darren McIlroy’s loyal Antigonus struggle in their own ways to make Leontes see sense. As he ignores the pleas of his whole court, and even the Oracle of Delphi (whose wisdom is communicated via a spectacular jewelled treasure chest), the cast avoid the temptation to ham up the increasingly melodramatic material, instead opting to play everything straight.
The Sicilian court is rounded out by solid supporting turns from Jo Hayes, Susan Gerlach, Liz Williams, Luke Daxon, Eilish Langham, Zoe Arden, and Jenny Hazell, most of whom later don rural garb for scenes set in the Bohemian countryside. The contrast between formal Sicilia and apparently-carefree Bohemia could not be clearer as hair is let down, and dancing performed. In their Sicilian mode, the courtiers and ladies in waiting lend further credibility to Leontes’ central performance as they react to his outbursts with fear, touched with concern for a once-great leader.
With Leontes’ young son Mamillius (played with great confidence on this occasion by Toby Ewen) and wronged queen Hermione both dead from grief, the king finally comes to his senses, but his new-born daughter Perdita has already been taken out into the wilderness by Antigonus. Antigonus is of course the pursuee in Shakespeare’s most famous stage direction, and Michelle Hood has made a sensible decision to depict the bear primarily through the use of sound. No sooner is Antigonus off stage than Sue Reoch appears as the Shepherdess to save the infant Perdita, and this hitherto relentless tragedy finally turns the corner into a more optimistic tale.
After spending much of the first half as a wordlessly disapproving courtier, Nicola Doble raises the energy going into the interval with a hugely spirited and physical performance as Pe’er. She maintains this tone throughout the second half and provided some of the show’s most enjoyable moments in her scenes with Steve Webb’s equally energetic Autolycus. There is some well-timed physical comedy between the pair during their first meeting which almost makes you forget the jealousy, insanity and death in the play’s opening scenes.
The play’s second half takes place some sixteen years after the first. This is made explicitly clear in a post-interval chorus interjection from Time herself, Fran Billington setting the scene and indeed the tone for the rest of the play in a spectacular costume embroidered with various celestial objects. Time introduces Prince Florizel, son of King Polixenes, and Perdita. Charlie Higgs and Melissa Paris play these young lovers as a sweet and mutually infatuated pair, but their story is quickly overshadowed by that of their parents.
As sixteen years have passed, those parents, and many of the rest of the cast, have greyed and aged over the course of the interval, with Leontes now looking particularly haggard. Newly-minted silver foxes King Polixenes and Camillo up the ante further by wearing outrageous false beards and hooded cloaks for a trip into the countryside to spy on Florizel and Perdita, and Chris Mounsey shows his range as he moves from bemused spectator to apoplectic monarch over the course of a sheepshearing contest.
Mags Wrightson’s wardrobe draws a clear contrast between the buttoned up tunic and elaborate dresses of Sicily, and the loose peasant clothes of Bohemia, and the actors move with much greater fluidity and physicality throughout the Bohemia scenes, particularly throughout the dances choreographed by Sophie Hardie, which provide a striking contrast with the stately court dance that opens the show, choreographed by Fran Billington. This contrast is also heightened by the musical style, and even Gary Stevenson and Patrick Troughton’s lighting, which becomes much warmer for the rural scenes.
All things considered I had mixed feelings when the action returned to Sicilia for the final act. But there is a frantic pace to events as revelations come thick and fast, several of them offstage. The confirmation of Perdita’s royal heritage, and the reconciliation of both Polixenes and Leontes, and Polixenes and his son Florizel, are all related in a short scene between Autolycus and several courtiers.
Boasting a large cast, of whom many are playing multiple characters, and several dramatic changes of scenery, stage manager Harri Osborne and her team keep the action moving smoothly on stage, with occasional transitions smoothed over by musical interludes from Will Williams.
With its multiple settings, and drastic change in tone, The Winter’s Tale is a daunting prospect for any amateur company to stage. But by respecting Shakespeare’s text, and opting for a simple but adaptable set, Teddington Theatre Company have pulled off an enjoyable and entertaining production of one of the Bard’s most challenging plays.
Andrew Lawston
January 2019
Photography by Sarah J. Carter
Theatre with Realism and Bite
That Face
by Polly Stenham
Questors Theatre Company at The Studio, Ealing until 2nd February
Review by Ian Nethersell
I have been lucky enough to attend and work in many performance spaces throughout London and the Home Counties, ranging from ornate Victorian theatres to community halls. Of all these spaces The Studio at Questors Theatre is possibly my favourite. A slightly asymmetric black box that can be configured and used in a myriad of ways, limited only by imagination – and imagination and imagery were not missing from this production. It was the fully in-the-round configuration to which I entered to watch Questors Theatre’s first performance of That Face, directed by John Davey.
The play, written by Polly Stenham whilst relatively young (still in her teens) was first produced in 2007 at The Royal Court during her involvement with The Royal Court’s Young Writers’ Programme, and explores the interactions of a dysfunctional family centred around a mother who has mental health issues and a dependency to alcohol.
The set and settings by Ray Dunning were simple, striking a good balance of what was necessary to portray location and what was needed to facilitate the scene. I particularly liked the cracks painted onto the floor, echoing the fractured internal and external relationships of the characters, demonstrating great symbolism and attention to detail.
The eight scene changes were handled smoothly and confidently by Cathy Swift and her team. Sound design by Olly Potter worked well, the piece not being populated by copious sound effects. The thrash metal music for the scene changes added to the experience by creating a comfortable yet uncomfortable feeling which ironically portrayed a stability and consistency devoid from the life of the characters. Lighting design by Andrew Quick and Robert Walker was basic, but do not confuse this with simple, it achieved just the right balance of levels and coverage without complication which meant it never once stood out above the piece. Both lighting and sound were aptly operated by Tracey Wickens, who managed to juggle both tasks without drawing attention.
Could the tech have been used differently? Of course, if one wanted to create a different kind of production but for this telling there was a feeling of congruence which I felt hit the spot.
In the opening scene we witness the hazing of a student, Alice, (Maria Gebhardt) in a girl’s boarding school. Not only disturbing because of the content but mostly for the callous, calculating narcissistic, bordering on psychopathic character of Izzy, (Chloë Bourke). Although initially the character of Mia, (Fionna Gough) seems to be submissive towards a bullying authority figure we soon see that this young girl is confident and more than capable of handling problems and people, a skill no doubt learned from years of living in her environment. She is quite prepared to do what is needed to be done.
Scene Two introduces us to Martha (Wendy Gebhardt) the mother, who is in bed whilst her son, Henry, (Calvin Crawley) sleeps on top of the covers. She is recovering from the night before and with Henry upset, Martha speaks the hollow promise of the drunk, “Never again!”. When Henry threatens to leave she puts on an over-egged hypertension panic attack which shows to what degree of manipulation she is prepared to go, but this doesn’t wash with Mia who challenges Martha. It also sets clearly the reversal of role and identity, with the mother clearly in the child and victim position whilst the daughter inhabits the adult, whereas Henry is clearly adaptive to the mother. This scene also gives us a glimpse of an unhealthy relationship between mother and son which deepens and becomes more of their norm as the play progresses.
Scene Three is in the hospital where Alice is lying, hooked up to a drip after being fed a large quantity of Valium by Mia during the hazing and whilst it initially seemed that she had done it, ’just because’, it may also have been because Mia is a caring character and was trying to protect Alice from the spiteful Izzy who doesn’t care for anything except seducing Henry. After they have left the room Alice begins to cry which is loaded with emotion and content, clearly demonstrating that a good actor does not need lots of lines to act to a very high standard.
In Scene Four we witness the spiteful nature of Martha after she has cut up her son’s clothes for not coming home to her, and when she sees the marks of love-making on him she lashes out with a jealousy suggesting a different level of relationship. This is the first time we get an inkling that the underlying issue for Martha is a mental health disorder, also cemented by Henry’s words. “Martha, you live in an upside-down world”. Soon he relinquishes and we see the co-dependency in the relationship, both need each other and each other’s behaviour. This gets reinforced in the next scene when he verbally attacks Izzy who leaves in tears after her delusions to power are smashed when she sets herself against the mother for Henry’s affections.
Meanwhile the father Hugh (Mike Hadjipateras) has been called by Mia’s school after her expulsion and is on his way from Hong Kong, where he now lives with his second family. During the restaurant scene with Mia we witness his inability to emotionally connect with his first family and he threatens to have Martha sectioned.
In the final scene Martha is dressed to go out for dinner with Hugh. Henry is dressed in Martha’s nightgown and wearing make-up in what has become a complete inhabiting of the mother. Hugh and Mia walk into this and, as the conflict rises to fever pitc, Martha eventually concedes and goes with Hugh to voluntarily enter The Maudsley. After they leave we completely are left with Mia and Henry who is distraught, his reason for living and identity now gone and with the final words of the play spoken by Mia, “It will be alright. Everything will be alright” we become aware that the play was not about Martha’s issues and health, but about Henry’s.
Will history repeat itself in the relationship between sister and brother or will it be ‘alright’? Well, that would be another play and one I would rush to buy tickets for. I recommend you do for this production of a well written play with high production values by a respected theatre company if you like your theatre with realism and bite that challenges and makes you think.
It may seem this review is mostly a recounting of the story but it is more a reflection on the quality of the performances. Such was the standard of the acting and inhabiting of the roles that I fully lost contact with any actors and only experienced the complexity and depth of the characters and their world in a fully empathetic theatrical experience. John Davey has managed to pull together a superb cast to take the audience on a journey that could have been shallow and wordy but instead is taut and honest in its portrayal without glorifying or resorting to cheap gratuity. That Face is a wonderful production and well worth the 1¾ hours without interval.
Ian Nethersell
January 2019
Photography by Peter Collins
Existential Escape
Resolution 2019 (Triple Bill 10)
Dreamers Catch 28 Milk
by NamYoon Kim by Christina Dionysopoulou by Amy Ollett
NYK Dance Company, Christina Dionysopoulou, and Amy Ollett
Resolution at The Place, Euston, 24th January,
The Festival of New Choreography continues until 23rd February
A review by Mark Aspen
A gramophone crackling, or do we hear the fireplace where the shadow of one dancer mimics another? Like R.L. Stevenson’s My Shadow “She is very, very like me from the heels up to the head …”, but for the two dancers, the eponymous Dreamers, NamYoon Kim and Wai Shan Vivian Luk, the uneasy music and restless moves, the other “she” is uncannily not like “me”. One we see, the other in a shadowgraph on a gauze screen. The dream is not the reality, and the moves of the dreamer are distorted in the dream. Lighting design, Alex Mcmanus has kept the screen small and now we see them, no we don’t. Then birdsong, so perhaps this dream is not unpleasant. The music is more lyrical, the dance insistent but elastic. A reprise of the beat, a male dancer Ryan Charles Ledger appears, but even a Chopin nocturne cannot unravel this dream. The duet has an uneasy animation with hints of aggression. These include some unconventional moves where the dancer’s weight worryingly is taken on the neck. It is clear that dawn has not yet come, even when the lone dancer subsides in crackling uncertainty. The feeling choreographer NamYoon Kim leaves us with also seems uncertain and incomplete. The dreamscape she has created is not a nightmare, but not quite sweet dreams.
Four figures crouch in the darkness, and then a controlled explosion of frenzied dance, a haka re-forms into a tightly coordinated concatenation of constrained tension; convulsive, percussive. Christina Dionysopoulou’s compelling Catch 28 has a raw animalistic feel. It hints at street dance within contemporary dance, but there’s more than that: there is a seething anxiety of something internalised trying to get out. The four performers (Lauren Anthony, Ayten Goksan, Hayleigh Sellors and Nevena Stojkov) move as one, fearful and staccato. Sellors’ painfully flagellatory solo is striking in all senses and highlights the impetus of the ensemble in all its aerobic robustness. The ensemble rolls agitatedly like a breaking surf in a fierce wind. Even a stylised brawl ignites in furious unison. Zack Hemsey has specially adapted the music of Enzio Bosso and the ostinato of the score underpins the edginess of the dance. Dionysopoulou’s choreography has an arresting grab-you-by-the-lapels immediacy that makes an absorbing and mesmerising experience.
The visual impact of Milk is immediate, a bolt of white silk flows from the flies and spills across the stage. Integrating textile design into music and dance, choreographer Amy Ollett makes a bold and intriguing statement. Fabric and dancer move as one creature, creating a talking tissue, bringing a Michelangelo-esque depiction of drapery to life. Ollett has undisputable skills as a fashion designer, an art form that she has developed alongside choreography, pregnant with symbolism. The effect is poetic, but sometimes as the loops and swirls of the rich fabric envelope the dancer, there seems to the danger that she will drown. Henry Jackson Newcomb’s original score expands the lactational theme, pouring in musical milk that drips and gurgles. Here is the canvas for three veiled dancers (Rhiannon Hopkins, Federica Somma and Danielle Summers) to paint an elegant image. The shrouded bodies move with a viscous fluidity, yet one that tells of a struggle with innermost feelings. The fabric conceals; the fabric reveals. Brian J Morrison’s design is stark white and bold red, and the lighting snaps between the same colours to wash out the milk … or the blood.
Mark Aspen
January 2019
Read more at The Place’s Resolution Review
Photography by James Whiteley, Christina Dionysopoulou and Kerry Curl
Captivating Canards
C’est La Vie… Sarah Bernhardt and Me
by Hilary Tones
On The Brink Theatre at OSO Arts Centre Barnes until 24th January then on tour
A Review by Eleanor Marsh
“Sarah Bernhardt lied… she lied about everything”, is one of the first statements on the programme written by Hilary Tones, Author and Performer of this piece. And thus the scene is set: everything we are about to see may or not be true. It’s a good device, allowing much potential for artistic licence and guaranteeing that at least one audience member determined to read more about Ms Bernhardt post-show. My Amazon order has just been completed.
And what an entertaining life Bernhardt (may have) had. We discover tales of train crashes, courtesans, 19th century PR and a life lived in the global spotlight. Some of these tales are related direct to the audience, some illustrated with “silent movie” style projections and some illustrated by excerpts from some of Bernhardt’s famous performances. Of the latter, the “salad days” speech from Antony and Cleopatra was particularly effective and I was also moved by the French pieces. I do not speak a word of French but Ms Tones is a fine actress and proved – as did Bernhardt before her – that language need not be a barrier to understanding.
Ms Tones has quite obviously done her homework to properly research her subject. The temper tantrums, unconventional background, lack of respect for authority and legendary wooden leg are all covered. But where, amongst the delightful set comprising Art Nouveau screens, glamorous dressing gowns and the obligatory French absinthe was the coffin …? Perhaps it was too difficult to manage in practical terms but I for one was waiting to see La Bernhardt learning her lines or rehearsing in possibly the most famous bed in theatrical history. Would I have missed it had there not been so much other “set”? Probably not, but as we had a chaise longue, screens, dressing table, chest, etc. it did seem to be the missing elephant in the room. Which brings me to the argument “storytelling” vs “acting”:
This play uses both. The initial plot device is that of an actress (we are led to believe Ms Tomes herself) en route to an audition for the role of Sarah Bernhardt. The storytelling element of the play continues as we hear about the research she’s undertaken and her quandary in choosing the correct monologue with which to audition. It’s a nice plot device and an easy way for the audience to relax into the performance. The tube journey projected behind the action, though, is a distraction and on opening night at OSO appeared to be as distracting for Ms Tones as it was for the audience. It is a relief when we meet the actual Bernhardt and the action really begins. This is when our actress seems to be at her most comfortable. As Bernhardt – and a range of her contemporaries – Hilary Tones shines. As herself (if indeed it is herself that she is portraying) she seems less sure and much more reticent; the feeling that she is deliberately holding back is palpable.
It is such a difficult thing to both write and perform a piece and ensure balance. When the subject matter is such a dramatic character in every sense of the word it makes perfect sense that the dramatic “acting” will win out over a more relaxed storytelling style and without more depth to the character of the Actress this it does. The Actress remains purely a device to introduce us to the larger than life phenomenon that was Sarah Bernhardt and on balance I think this is the right way to play the piece. And did we need the coffin? No we did not. Neither does Ms Tones require the distraction of too much back projection and lengthy costume changes. Her acting is beautiful to watch and should be admired for the talent it is without the need to dress it up unnecessarily.
This play is thoroughly engaging, entertaining and educational – Brava!
Eleanor Marsh
January 2019
Photography by Graham Bennett and Sam Parks
An Inimitable Vision of Wonderland
Alice in Wonderland
by Andrew O’Leary adapted by Jackie Howting from Lewis Carroll
Edmundian Players at Cheray Hall, Whitton until 26th January
A Review by Celia Bard
The Edmundian Players has chosen Alice in Wonderland as their pantomime this season. The script contains many of the characters that one is familiar with and loves including Alice, the Hatter, the White Rabbit, the Queen of Hearts, Dormouse, the Cheshire Cat, Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee. In this version of Alice, we are introduced to new characters, Jack (the gardener), Brandy, Sherry, Stella (friends of Alice), Ms Hackett, Cookie and the Drunken Archer. True to form the Edmundians has fashioned its own inimitable style producing a production that, though fun and incorporating many familiar pantomime elements, remains, in part, true to the spirit of Lewis Carroll.
The show opens with a musical number involving many of the ensemble characters gathered in Wonderland and the Palace Gardens. This is an effective opening and sets the tone and pace of the production. The Queen of Hearts is quickly established as the protagonist to Alice, whom the Queen wants to kill in order to steal her precious watch, but for what reason the audience is kept in suspense until the second act. Our ‘cut down’, Queen, a little person with an enormous ego, is beautifully portrayed by Jessica Young (do so hope knees were well padded!). Played straight by Jessica but the absurdity of her appearance undermines her authority. Watch out for the parody of the Royal wave.
In the next scene we are introduced to Alice’s friends, Brandy, Sherry and Stella who live with Alice in the orphanage run by the suitably snarling henchwoman, Ms Hackett. Theresa McCulloch plays this role with great gusto culminating in a rousing performance of Diamonds are Forever. Alice then makes her introduction played by Mary McGrath, who is very close to Lewis Carroll’s Alice: caring and gentle, courteous and truthful, but not afraid to stand up to any ‘baddies’. Mary gives a very pleasing performance as Alice, pleasing to look at and to listen to, a young actor with good physicality and a tuneful voice.
The interaction between Alice and the wonderful hip-hop singing White Rabbit is lively and jokey. This character is far removed from Carroll’s vision, bringing in a very 21st century street culture. Paula Young relishes this role and gives a sustained ‘cutesy but matey’ performance. The Dame, beautifully played by Matt Ludbrook, makes a suitably grand entrance as Cookie, the cook, and manages to deliver many stock panto gags and jokes with a freshness and enthusiasm as if they had never been seen or heard before: a great feat. The mock slapstick striptease was a tour de force of timing and low humour. Ellen Walker and Becky Halden as Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee certainly live up to one of their personality characteristics, seeing riddles in everything. The three of them succeed in performing the well-worn custard pies routine deftly, resulting in a genuinely funny laugh out loud moment.
We then enter the Hatter’s Tea Party scenes between Hatter (Matt Nicholas), March Hare (Clare Blake) and Dormouse (Evie Schaapveld). All three are deliciously delightful performers. Matt Nicholas is an actor with a great star quality presence, bringing the Hatter to life with aplomb. His timing is faultless, as also is his ability to interact with other performers. His rendering of A Very Unhappy Birthday to Me and A Nice Cup of Tea was delivered as if he were a great opera singer, which so suits Hatter’s personality. A disarming moment occurs when he lifts the dormouse out of the teapot. Here mention must be made of the scene stealing performance of young Evie who has remarkably sharp timing and stage awareness for someone so young. Throughout her scenes she acts and re-acts, so totally absorbed is she in her role and all that is going on around her. The trio is completed by the March Hare, played with great authenticity and enthusiasm by Clare Blake.
The grinning Cheshire Cat is artistically and cleverly acted by young Marie Blake, popping up and disappearing throughout the performance, totally in keeping with Carroll’s concept of this character. The Cat is the only character to speak in verse and Marie’s balletic, feline movement beautifully complements her characterisation.
Jack, the Gardener, played by Lucy Blake, is a wholly pantomime stock character and here we part company with the Lewis Carroll story for Jack is introduced as a love interest for Alice. The stereotypical slapping of the thighs is restrained, but performed tongue-in-cheek, which goes down well with the audience. ‘His’ scenes with Alice are charming. Nick Garvey is well cast as the King, in every way an amusing contrast to the shrill, bossy, outrageous personality of his Queen. Bob King’s drunken archer scene is a delightful parody of the drunken sailor song.
Mention must be made of the musical director, Roger Swift. He is a musician who is totally sympathetic to the musical requirements of performers and production, and artistically makes full use of the numerous sound effects of his keyboard. The musical numbers selected are appropriate and integrate well in the scripts, sang with confidence and enthusiasm by the entire ensemble.
The production under the skilled hands of the Director, Jackie Howting, flows easily. Nothing is laboured. It has a pleasing pace and extremely good use is made of the acting area supported by beautifully constructed and designed sets and colourful costumes, helping to transport the audience, along with Alice, into Wonderland. The Palace Gardens and Mushroom Glade sets are particularly imaginative in design.
Alice in Wonderland proved to be a thoroughly enjoyable and entertaining production. Although it may not have been Lewis Carroll’s vision of Wonderland, it was just great to meet many of his anthropomorphic characters in an Edmundian Fairyland.
Celia Bard
January 2019
Photography by Juliette Wait
Two Stories, One Artiste
Piaf Remembered
by Gary Merry
Piaf Remembered Company at OSO Arts Centre, Barnes until 18th January, then on tour until 4th November
A review by Vince Francis
A welcome return to the OSO Arts Centre in Barnes on a crisp January evening, this time in full reviewer mode eagerly anticipating the delights of what I expected to be a straightforward tribute show. How gratifyingly erroneous that assumption turned out to be.
The auditorium was configured in cabaret style; that is to say, with tables and chairs rather than raked seating. Personally, I like this arrangement, particularly for music based shows, but it does have its drawbacks. If the stage is not elevated, as was the case here, then there can be sight-line issues. Having said that, we sat toward the rear of the hall and were not troubled in that respect.
Piaf Remembered was premiered at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe 2017. The show is, effectively, two stories told in parallel by the narrator, Robert Dumont, played by Gary Merry. Firstly, there is the tale of Dumont, aged eight, accompanying his father on a trip to Paris in 1962, during which he is taken to see Piaf in what turned out to be her final concert. This leads us to the second story, which is that of Edith Piaf and his fascination with her. The stories are interwoven with the songs of Piaf, presumably from that final performance, delivered beautifully by Oriana Curls, who is supported most ably by Chris Jerome on piano and Katy Jungmann on clarinet, saxophone and accordion.
I found the storytelling hugely engaging, recreating the excitement, nervousness and fascination of an eight-year old attempting to understand the world of grown-ups and the frankly gob-smacking impact of seeing someone of the artistic stature of Piaf in full flow.
One of the points made is that you don’t need to be fluent in a language to understand and be affected by the songs written in it. I agree with this, having first encountered the phenomenon in a song called Guantanamera, by the Sandpipers sometime in the ‘60s. I would have been around the same age as Dumont was on his visit to Paris and my Spanish would have been equivalent to his French. My French remains at best rudimentary, to my shame, but Oriana Curls’ performance overcomes that by completely inhabiting the spirit of the song and laying it out for you.
I enjoyed this show enormously and would have no hesitation in recommending it, particularly to Piaf fans. Some of the finer details of Piaf’s life are glossed over or missing, but that, I think, should be viewed in the context of a young lad’s story of a foray into foreign climes.
Technically, the sound was well balanced for the venue, with the vocals nicely forward in the mix without being harsh or over dominant. Lighting-wise, I would have preferred to see stronger contrast between, particularly, Oriana and Robert, such that when Oriana sings, Robert is in blackout and vice versa. I appreciate that, for a touring production, there isn’t always time to rig and patch for the niceties but, if it is at all possible …
I would also have liked to have seen a programme, or at the very least a song list, so that I could go and chase down those numbers that I was less familiar with and add them to sundry playlists. In any event, most of the well-known numbers are present, including:
• Sous les ciels de Paris
• Padam, padam
• L’hymne à l’amour
• Les feuilles mortes (some very tasteful soloing here, on both piano and sax)
• Milord (guaranteed to get the audience’s feet a’stompin’ and hands a’clappin’)
• La vie en rose
• Je ne regrette rien
Minor niggles aside, go and see it. As I said earlier, an even more enjoyable evening than I had anticipated. Je ne regrette rien !!
Vince Francis
January 2019
Photography courtesy of Piaf Remembered Company
Interaction and Inter-Reaction
Resolution 2019 (Triple Bill 3)
Proxy Shifted Taffeta Dreaming
by Si Rawlinson by Natalie Bell by A.Cox, E. Howard and C. Williams
Wayward Thread, nat.co and Trah and Chips Theatre and Dance Ensemble at The Place, Euston, 15th January,
The Festival of New Choreography continues until 23rd February
A review by Mark Aspen
“Who are you?” A running theme of displacement preoccupies the triple bill on the third night of Resolution 2019, with three new choreographers looking from very different angles on the facets at the concept. Are we who someone else tells us to be? Are we who someone else forces us to be? Or are we who our own psyche tells us to be?
Do we all figuratively dance in the dark? But before that, an explicit question “Who are you?” Perhaps impossible to answer, but this is the question that experimental choreographer Si Rawlinson asks his dancers, quite literally so, in Proxy, a piece that demands much more than physical prowess from them. His eclectic approach brings together semi-scripted dialogue, video techniques including infra-red imaging, and physical theatre to explore the authenticity of self. The answer to Rawlinson’s question is in the title of the piece: we are what others make of us. Laura Vanhulle and Dan Phung, an engaging pair of dancer-actors, manipulate each other physically and psychologically. Laura moves as Dan gives voice to his image of her movements, Dan speaks as Laura manipulates his face muscles, and yes, they do dance in the dark as we watch through spy cameras. But technology rules OK, audio visual artist Dan Lowenstein is on stage with all his paraphernalia and the auto-voyeurism of the ubiquitous selfie is lasciviously demonstrated by our dancers. Proxy has the feel of work in progress and it begs a more rounded piece to allow us more of two supple and composed dancers.
Shifted is supernal. From its lyrical opening to its tense conclusion, Natalie Bell’s intricately choreographed depiction of displacement is riveting. The piece has a narrative with a chronology double-defined by the distressful dichotomy of what is taken and what is left when humanity is uprooted. Whereas the season programme hinted at a reference to the refugee migrations into Europe over the last few years, this piece is far wider, its temporal and spatial co-ordinates being undefined. Shifted opens with an image reminiscent of a sea-anemone wafted to and fro by the currents. Is the creature confined or is she firmly rooted? Gabriele Martin moves with a limpid liquidity, but her ankles are tightly bound by the recumbent forms of fellow dancers Brandon Clarke and Samuel Ozouf. A dynamically depicted journey follows the turmoil of fleeing, at sea and on land. The precisely coordinated athleticism of the two male dancers underlined the agitation in this timeless study of expulsion and exile.
Now for something entirely different. Alex James-Cox’s characters in Taffeta Dreaming are displaced from the comfort of their northern hometown to the relentless pressure-cooker of London. Their story, told with well-defined body language, has open humour tinged with sincere pathos. Daisy is very fond of Isaac. Isaac is, however, a bisexual who is “trying to get to like girls”. The story unfolds in a robust blend of contemporary dance with stand-up, consummately delivered by Rebecca Hesketh-Smith and Stuart Thompson. When Isaac declares himself gay to Daisy, their experimental first kiss goes off, if you’ll excuse the term, at half-cock. The characterisation is spot-on: the awkwardness of encounter, the embarrassment of getting it wrong, the disappointments are all neatly portrayed, as brassy petulance and coy withdrawal fight for the moment.
Mark Aspen
January 2019
Read more at The Place’s Resolution Review
Photography by Dan Lowenstein, Dougie Evans and Tom Gimson
Decadent Dangers of the Demi-Monde
Manon
by Kenneth MacMillan, music by Jules Massenet
English National Ballet at the London Coliseum until 20th January
Review by Mark Aspen
Power, money, sex, the primordial drivers of the human psyche. If you play with fire, don’t use these as your toys. This is the moral of Manon, the ballet retelling of Abbé Prévost’s story of tenderness versus lust. In its reimagining of Kenneth MacMillan’s 1974 version, the English National Ballet’s production is an exquisitely spirited piece of storytelling.
Manon’s Coliseum production was germinated by the Royal Danish Ballet. Its crisp design by Mia Stensgaard counterintuitively uses the clean simplicity of twentieth century Danish style to portray the baroque of eighteenth century Paris, yet without any loss of period veracity. So panels slide to reveal the arrival of barouches and landaus bringing the wealthy to the fashionable salons. It is a Paris where, between lush luxury and bleak poverty, there floats a seedy demi-monde.
But to the young, adventurous and inquisitive Manon this is an exciting world where a frisson of danger may be the harbinger of many opportunities. Begoña Cao opens up an eloquent exposition of the contradictions of Manon’s character, swinging from caprice to caution, from romance to reason, licentiousness to licence. She pushes the boundaries of her allure in one direction after another, for she has an almost intuitive skill in flirting: the eyelids flicker, she floats off in a series of bourrée en arrière, a sudden turn …
Nevertheless, manipulating the man’s world of pre-revolutionary France is fraught. Here women may be seen merely as chattels, witness a caged cart of tarts drawn through the crowds at the beginning of this ballet. Manon’s brother, Lescaut, has no compunction about cashing-in on the assets of his young sister by pimping her to the highest bidder, at first an Old Man (in a comic cameo by Michael Coleman), but soon to be trumped by the wealthy and ruthless Monsieur GM. No-one could argue that Lescaut is not a slimy sleazebag and Ken Saruhashi is compelling in his characterisation of Lescaut as depraved, ill-mannered and arrogant. Saruhashi’s precise and powerful performance portrays the cocky confidence of the corrupt fixer. Percussive jetés battus and highly defined movements speak of Lescaut’s misplaced self-assurance, whereas Saruhashi’s drunken dance as Lescault has hit the bottle injects a moment of comic relief. Maybe ruthlessness has a dark attraction, for Lescaut has a loyal mistress. Crystal Costa’s interpretation is charming and vivacious, with beautifully adept solos. One feels she is too good for the likes of Lescaut.
A monopoly in wickedness is not however held by Lescuat: try the domineering and volatile Monsieur GM. Here is a man not to be crossed. Whatever he wants he buys, with money, or … well, there’s the boys. Junor Souza cuts an imposing figure as a truly menacing Monsieur GM and, in a dangerous mix, he is both short tempered and vain. He struts like a peacock exuding an air of invulnerability. However, it is Manon who is the bird he wants to catch. Manon knows she is a bird flying into a gilded cage, but if the choice is hungry penury or comfortable courtesanship it is worth the risk. Cao shudders as she portrays Manon accepting GM’s furs and diamonds: a shudder of horror or of excitement? In a voluptuous pas de trois, she luxuriates in the risk she is taking as Lescaut and GM pass her back and forth. Equally in the later brothel scene, she clearly enjoys the power of her own allure as she is passed seductively from man to man, drifting in Massenet’s quasi-oriental musical sway. As she is lifted and lowered, we see it allegorises her adoration and inevitably her eventual degradation.
Nevertheless, Manon has found true love, love with the scholarly and serious student Des Grieux. Aitor Arrieta paints a picture of the innocent abroad as Des Grieux wanders into this stewpot of sleaze. But for him, and for Manon, it is love at first sight. He, literally and figuratively, sweeps her off her feet, and we are treated by Cao and Arrieta to a gorgeous series of pas de deux that are variously playful or erotic, but always with the urgency that comes with being in love. Arrieta’s performance speaks tenderness, Cao’s an unwonted vulnerability, but always with a sense of joy. This joy has a crowning moment as, when Des Grieux has just left, she leaps ecstatically onto their bed. However, when he returns, Manon has been abducted by GM. Arrieta’s display of DesGrieux’s anguish is palpable.
Des Greux though has some spunk, and is off to the chaos of Madame’s house of ill-repute, with its dissipated debauchery of its clients and catty wantonness of its harlots. Here the cock-a-hoop Monsieur GM is showing off Manon as his prize. Stensgaard’s restrained exoticism is evident in her caustic pastels contradicting the gaudy spirit of the scene. The corps de ballet populates this scene of frenzied decadence. The atmosphere is incendiary and finally ignites when Des Greux beats Monsieur GM at baccarat and runs off with the winnings and with Manon.
Still, we all know that this will end in tears. Des Greux’s aborted arrest by Monsieur GM and his subservient constables gives a great show of athletic fencing, culminating in the fatal shooting of Monsieur GM. Unjustly though, it is Manon who is captured, tried and sentence to deportation. Dao’s transparent rendering of Manon’s abject dejection is heart-breaking. Shorn, grey and heavy-headed she is the antithesis of the former self. The faithful Des Greux has followed her to New Orleans, but too late to rescue her from the licentious intentions of the The Gaoler, forcefully danced by Daniel Kraus. The Gaoler knows who is in control and his violation of the weakened Manon is sickening. Des Greux wreaks lethal vengeance on The Gaoler and, only just in the nick of time, they make their escape.
It’s out of the frying pan and into the fire of the Louisiana swamps (impressive superfog from the Coliseum’s techies!) where “the past flashes before her eyes” as the enfeebled and exhausted Manon succumbs to the vicissitudes of the tropics. The final moments of the ballet, the passion of Manon’s death, are visceral.
The dancers are indisputable fantastic storytellers, but a co-star is Massenet’s music so beautifully delivered by the English National Ballet Philharmonic under the controlled and consummate baton of Orlando Jopling with such balance and grace.
The delicacy of Massenet’s score contrasts bitingly with this story with no happy ending for the damaged Manon. She plays with fire and loses. We may reflect, which of those three toys is the most damaging, power, money, or sex?
Mark Aspen
January 2019
Photography by Laurent Liotardo
Tweaking the Triangle
Lies Low
by Rian Flatley
Clariann Productions at the Coward Studio, Hampton Hill Theatre until 19th January
A review by Eleanor Lewis
Lies Low, on the face of it, is a love triangle. It is the usual love triangle format, a man and two women and it occurs to me in passing that I can’t recall a love triangle drama involving a woman and two men and it’s probably time someone wrote one, but I digress.
Love triangle aside, there is a great deal more to the lives of the three characters in Lies Low than their relationship issues, which is quite frustrating because the potentially interesting plot lacks the required pace. It lacks a director.
I suppose every reviewer has their ‘thing’. This one currently has two: the biggest being directors (please get one if you’re doing a play); the second props. Directors have specific skills and they’re really useful. They haven’t written the play which makes them objective about it and therefore likely to produce it in the most effective way. If you’ve written the play you’re protective of it (as you should be) but as the writer, your role is to produce the food while the director gives the dinner party.
Lies Low has the type of story arc that requires a build-up of tension and a drip-feed of information. Whilst attempting to achieve this, it rather crawled through a couple of lengthy sections in the middle which served mainly to produce some heroic acting from Clare Gollop who was left alone on stage, more than once, with little to do other than look around a flat, for what felt like a very long time.
Similarly, towards the end of the piece, Kate Winder’s reaction to discovering the truth about her lover suggested that the direction she’d been given amounted to: “just really shout a lot”. Understandable, but dramatically there are a lot of opportunities for channelling your venom as a scorned woman and really getting under his skin at this point rather than just yelling as loud as you can.
Andrew McDonald’s portrayal of a confused rather than particularly complex middle aged man was a little black and white which again, may be due to direction (or writing).
Mr McDonald stumbled a little with his lines and this may have been first night nerves but beyond this, his character’s relentlessly aggressive and irritated attitude towards his wife needed a little tempering in order to make him sympathetic in any way at all.
Producing theatre, particularly new writing on a low budget, is both difficult and a good thing to do. It helps though, if you can iron out the details. Scene changes in this work took longer than was ideal and seemed to be governed by when the keyboard player providing the soundtrack had finished his agreed section of music. This would be better the other way round, with the actors dictating when the change is finished, it would help maintain pace. The soundtrack itself was an asset, being gentle and complimentary to the drama, as was the lighting which darkened effectively at appropriate moments.
Granted, props are not top of the priority list, but boy can they spring to the forefront sometimes! A small brown carrier bag which is apparently full of sandwiches but is evidently full of nothing at all has an annoying ability to draw attention to itself, particularly in the small space that is Hampton Hill’s studio. Empty sandwich wrappers stuffed with paper would suffice but sending it on empty makes it surprisingly noticeable. (Though this isn’t unusual, I’ve seen many actors, pro and amateur, breezily lifting apparently full suitcases as though they’re tissues plucked from a box).
All of which is rather negative, and that’s a shame because Lies Low has quite a lot of potential but would greatly benefit from some tweaking and trimming. The middle section moves very slowly. The revelation of everyone and everything at the end is rushed and the interesting explanation as to why one of the characters has a gun is given away almost casually. Sort out those elements – get a director! OK, OK, I’ll stop now – and a nice little thriller will hopefully emerge.
Eleanor Lewis
January 2019
Photography by Clariann Productions
Confined Conflict
Resolution 2019 (Triple Bill 1)
Void Blacklist No Sudden Moves
by Jane Chan by Joshua Nash by Victoria Fox
Jane Chan, Joshua Nash and TRIBE// at Resolution at The Place, Euston, 11th January, The Festival of New Choreography continues until 23rd February
A review by Mark Aspen
Tension, conflict, aggression. Surging into The Place, London’s sanctuary of contemporary dance, it could be the zeitgeist of the opening days of 2019. The triple bill that formed the first night of Resolution 2019, introduced three new choreographers with the unstated theme of conflicts of identity.
Void, performed by Hong Kong choreographer Jane Chan has a frustrated fluidity as its narrative illuminates the entrapment of a failing mind struggling within the encompassing coils of Alzheimer’s disease. For Chan this has a personal resonance as her grandmother succumbed to this dreaded and dreadful affliction. White clad within a cell of white light, she writhes within the blockades of its burgeoning assaults. Her hands clutch; clutching at straws. Chan barely moves from centre stage, a prisoner. Then an agitated move dislodges the knot of her bodice, a light streams in from offstage. Her arms stroke the air in confusion, and there is a sense of agonised release. It is as if the voids in the mind seek a transubstantial void.
There is a more visceral attack in Joshua Nash’s Blacklist. Two dancers, naked to the waist, strut around each other, with the watchful aggressiveness of a pair of cockerels. How are they related? They look the same, same mannerisms, same topknot. They may be brothers, but Nash’s co-performer, Jordan Douglas, emerges as his alter ego. This is a story of three parts. The kinked kinetics of Krump suddenly hit a different note (as does the music) and the inner conflict becomes explicit aggression in a stylised fight sequence, which is smooth and fluent. Then, in another contrast, the triptych reverts to a street-dance fusion; as the protagonists lose their isolation, top-knots free into deluges of dreadlocks. The stomps and pops are still there, but focussed towards a feeling of reconciliation and unity.
There is a distinct feral feel in No Sudden Moves, a dystopian piece by Brighton-based TRIBE//. A huddled pile of unkempt bodies opens the piece, which explodes into high energy exposition of urgent menace. The five dancers include the choreographer Victoria Fox, who has created impressively tightly coordinated expressions of surging masses, restless and lawless. They are joined on stage by sound designer, Jeph Vanger. Evident in hic sonic presence, he seems to pull the strings, an all-pervading éminence grise. Even before the thrashing of a stylised fight sequence, the air of danger permeates the air. Some of the characters are impelled to hide behind a strange cut-out of a caravan, which is moved around the stage. (Possibly a symbol of impermanence, it would be better in its absence.) In its ominous and changing dynamics, No Sudden Moves successfully conjures up a disquieting picture of post-apocalyptic insecurity.
The first three offerings for Resolution 2019 make a very strong and varied start to a season of dance. These three however do beg the question should dance inform the music or music inform the dance. Diaphragm resonance should not distract from a visual art-form that is dance, and certainly here are three works that deserve to be seen.
Mark Aspen
January 2019
Photography by Simon Richardson and Camilla Greenwell
Mark Aspen 