Compassion Redeems
Rain Man
by Dan Gordon, based on the MGM motion picture from a story by Barry Morrow
Bill Kenwright and The Classic Screen to Stage Theatre Company at Richmond Theatre until 10th November, then on tour until 24th November.
Review by Mark Aspen
Can compassion be bought and sold? Every man may have his price, but wheeler-dealer Charlie Babbitt finds that, in spite of himself, his price is drastically reassessed in a journey of self-discovery.
This is a journey that we make this week at Richmond Theatre in an immersive re-imagining of the multi-Oscar winning film Rain Man. It is perhaps unusual to adapt a film for the stage, rather than vice-versa, but bringing a wide-vista film into the confines of a theatre allows the story to speak in a powerfully engaging way.
Los Angeles in the early 1980’s, Charlie Babbitt is trying to import four classic Lamborghinis, but they have been impounded at the docks, because they do not meet current emissions standards. A problem is that he has bought them with money he doesn’t have, but the egocentric Charlie knows how to bluster and stall. He knows when to wheel and when to deal. If fact, even his own employees, who include his fiancée Susan, think he is an “a**(*)hole”, which indeed might be an accurate character summary, but one that demeans an essential organ.
As his creditors close in, he gets the unexpected news that his estranged father has died. He greets his father’s death with cold-hearted distain, but the prospect of an inheritance promises a way out for his present dilemma. However, a meeting in his father’s home near Cincinnati, with a Mr Mooney, a lawyer representing his late father’s estate, shatters that prospect. He has only inherited his father’s rose bushes and his car, a classic 1949 Buick Roadmaster convertible, which are amongst the causes of their estrangement. The bulk of the estate has been put into a confidential trust. The confidentially is no protection against Charlie’s hacking abilities, and he soon has conned his way to the trustee, Dr Bruener, who is principal at a psychiatric nursing home. In confronting Dr Bruener to demand what he sees as his inheritance, he discovers that the main beneficiary is Raymond Babbitt. To his amazement Raymond is his brother, who had been sent to the home when Charlie was little more than a baby.
Charlie decides to abduct Raymond from the nursing home, hoping to gain custody of his brother and get control of the money. Raymond is autistic and obsessively observes strict routines. However, he also has savant syndrome, with a phenomenal memory and a prodigious ability to carry out mental calculations. As they travel back to Los Angeles together in their father’s Buick, Charlie not only learns about their early family lives, but much about himself. The journey, and Raymond, redeem Charlie’s marred personality.
The redeeming nature of the journey is much better served on the stage than on the big screen, where the geographical road trip of some 2,200 miles dominates. Charlie’s personal inner journey is the focus of director Jonathan Boyle’s intense stage version of Rain Man. Designer Morgan Large’s set is simple and versatile, comprising mainly a reconfiguring set of giant empty picture frames, animated by Jack Weir’s delineating lighting design. These are existential symbols of the mental pictures, framed in recall, of the divergent childhoods of the two brothers. When, in Las Vegas, their lives re-converge the frames vanish.
Ed Speleers, a seasoned exponent of both the big and small screen, makes his stage debut as Charlie. In an engaging performance, Speleers portrays the transformation of the abrasively adamant trickster, into a caring and concerned human, as the hard exterior softens and conscience and compassion begin to emerge. He took the audience from loathing his character to admiring him.
The part of Raymond is an enormously difficult role, playing an individual who is simultaneous afflicted with a burden of mental and emotional impediments and blessed with incredible intellectual skills. Mathew Horne pitches his depiction just right between understatement and hyperbole, avoiding the danger of mockery and engendering a warm empathy for his character. His cramped stance and constant tremor spoke of Raymond’s anxiety and nervous energy.
The character of Susan, Charlie’s fiancée serves to highlight both his moral weaknesses and the gradual revelation of his innate humanity. Elizabeth Carter gives a spirited and fluid interpretation of the part, supportive of Charlie’s predicaments, for good or ill, but leaving him in disgust at his initially uncaring treatment of Raymond.
The face of authority, and authority sometimes misjudged, are Dr Brunner, played with great insight by Neil Roberts, and the attorney Mr Mooney and the court-appointed psychiatrist Dr Marston, both played with suitable gravitas by Adam Lilley. Brunner and
Marston had caught up with the brothers in Las Vegas, where Raymond’s calculation skills have netted Charlie (a bankruptcy preventing) $80,000 at the blackjack tables, before being ejected by the casino management simply for being too successful. Brunner delivers an injunction to Charlie to regain custody of Raymond, but it up to the biased Marston to convince the court of the merits either way. Unlike in the film, this staged Rain Man leaves the forward story hanging, a much more interesting (if non-Hollywood) ending.
Of the supporting roles, special mention must be made of Mairi Barclay, who triples as Lucy, the put-upon secretary at Charlie’s nefarious car dealership; as Sally, the gob-smacked waitress who witnesses Raymond’s memory and cognitive prowess; and as the deliciously pneumatic Iris the Hooker, who populates the purlieus of the Vegas casinos.
The eponymous “Rain Man”, a childhood imaginary friend of Charlie’s, was it turns out a false memory, and was in fact Raymond himself. On the subject of mishearing, all-in-all the cast of this staged Rain Man are exceptional, but there is a niggling tendency with some to forget that the stage needs a bigger voice then the screen.
Rain Man is a journey, the actual road trip a metaphor for the huge emotional journey undertaken by the brothers. It considers the (often false) value of money, the important value of compassion, and the strength of family ties. Charlie discovers much about himself and about his past. The early loss of their mother weakened the coherence of their family and their father’s rejection of Raymond revolts Charlie when he discovers that their father’s own name had been transferred between the infant brothers. The father’s over-expectations of his older and “normal” son had in due course led to their permanent rift.
The journey is an adventure that tightly bonds the brothers, and the powerful coda to this play is a simple but moving expression of their brotherly affection. In its touching poignancy, this simple ending moved the gripped, and hitherto silent, audience to an audible gasp!
Mark Aspen
November 2018
Photography by Robert Day
Carrying On and Trying to Keep Calm
For Services Rendered
by W. Somerset Maugham
The Questors at The Judi Dench Playhouse, Ealing, until 10th November
Review by Viola Selby
‘Keep Calm and Carry On’; those famous words were produced by the British government in 1939 in preparation for World War II, only a few years after World War One had shaken the country and caused irreversible changes to the foundations of society. Even after such a massive event, many people went back to their daily lives, trying to salvage some form of normality that could never be the same again. Francis Lloyd’s realistically raw and immersive adaptation of W. Somerset Maugham’s For Services Rendered offers a chance for the audience to travel back in time and peep into one family’s struggles with life after the war.
At the start of the play, the audience members were lulled into a sense of security that this would be a light British afternoon-tea type of story. This was done by Fiona McKeon’s stunning and authentic 1920s set design and warm, inviting lighting designed by the talented Chris Newall. How wrong we all were. Through the exceptional acting of the whole cast, each character’s inner torment comes to light, building up a sense of stifled madness ready to explode. The set, that once made the audience feel relaxed, now acts as part of the claustrophobic vibe of the play, as all events happen within this one room.
Two of the most dramatic events occur due to Eva and the ill-fated Collie Stratton, brilliantly played by Claire McCarthy and Robert Seatter, whose entwining stories result in Eva going mad over Collie’s suicide. Both McCarthy and Seatter excellently use tone and facial expressions to accentuate their characters’ fall into madness and despair in a way that wrenches the heart.
Added on to this, and something that assists in Eva’s fall into madness, is that her brother, Sydney, was gravely injured in the war and has become blind. Blindness can often be overacted in a way that is either comical or insensitive, both of which greatly affect the realism of a play and the audience’s ability to connect with the character.
However, Matthew Benson’s amazing talent effortlessly leaves the audience questioning whether the actor himself is actually blind or not. In addition to this, Eva’s sister, Ethel (Caroline Ash), is married to a drunk whom she soon realises is attempting to seduce her younger sister Lois. This sadly and in a strange way reflects many people’s experience in today’s society and is expertly acted by Claire Wilkinson in a mature and sensitive manner. At the same time, Lois (Rosie Louden), has to fight off the sexual attention of not only her father’s friend Wilfred (Robert Gordon Clark) but also her sister’s husband Howard (John Barron). Both Clark and Barron were absolutely superlative at playing such selfish and slimy characters; whilst Louden’s portrayal highlights a deep understanding of her character’s struggle in a way that gives her character an outstanding level of depth and development. Finally, if the audience thought that the story would somehow end on a happy note, they were sorely mistaken for it is at the end that Mrs Ardsley is told she has months to live, leaving her husband Leonard to face the new world and all of his family’s struggles without her. This may not have been so emotional had Anne Neville and Robin Ingram not worked so well as a married couple facing the new world, post war.
However, this play is not all doom and gloom, as part of the emotional rollercoaster Lloyd has also provided the audience with some comic relief in the form of Gwen Cedar – a well-to-do lady whose outfits (designed by the creative genii Raymond Childe and Nichola Thomas) shine just as much as her personality. Sarah Morrison’s depiction ensures Gwen is both funny but also realistic and relatable, so that audience members can identify with the character as someone they probably know in real life. In addition to this, Anthony Curran has been cleverly cast as Dr Prentice, providing some serious comedy with his straight to the point approach, in a stereotypically ‘doctor’ like way: overall adding to the mad brilliance of this play. Just as in the famous lines of Binyon’s Ode of Remembrance, ‘We will remember them’, I will definitely remember this play!
Viola Selby
November 2018
Photography by Jane Arnold-Forster
More details of the production are on The Questors website.
Forlorn Forbears and Dastardly Deeds
Ruddigore
by W.S. Gilbert and Sir Arthur Sullivan
Hounslow Light Opera Company at Hampton Hill Theatre until 3rd November
Review by Didie Bucknall
It is an ambitious venture to stage any Gilbert and Sullivan operetta at the Hampton Hill Theatre, but in tribute to their late, great and much loved President, Chair and long-standing member Peter King, the Hounslow Light Opera Company decided to put on Peter’s favourite G&S, the less familiar, zany Ruddigore. They gave a delightful and spirited performance to a packed and appreciative audience.
The auditorium lights dimmed, the conductor Isabella Stocchetti raised her baton, there was a drum roll – but where was the orchestra? There is no orchestra pit in the theatre, yet we had the full orchestral gamut, strings, brass, woodwind, timpani – a brilliant virtuoso performance throughout arranged by musical director Lee Dewsnap playing his Yamaha EL-900 electronic organ.
The curtain rises to an excellent backdrop of a harbour scene and the professional bridesmaids appear, bewailing the lack of weddings in the town as they are unable to perform their duties. The only possible candidates are Rose Maybud, Dame Hannah and, the extremely mad, Mad Margaret wildly played by Felicity Morgan who is driven to madness by her love of Sir Despard. Dame Hannah (Clare Henderson Roe), has taken a vow never to marry, as her love, Sir Roderic Murgatroyd, inherited the curse of Ruddigore, and so was doomed to commit a foul crime each day or die in agony. He failed and took the consequences.
Rose is in love with our hero, Robin Oakapple, but according to her trusty guide book of etiquette, she must not make the first move, one which Robin is too bashful to make. The two, played by Johanna-Marie D’Oyly Chambers and Paul Huggins, have a touching duet in which they express their love by pretending that they are asking advice on behalf of lovelorn friends. The scene is enlivened by the shenanigans of Old Adam, a hugely enjoyable comic performance by Edz Barrett.
More excitement, a ship has come in and jaunty sailor Dick Dauntless (Tony Cotterell) is in town. He dances a very energetic hornpipe while smoking his pipe and singing – astonishingly – how does he do this without running out of breath? The very professional choreography was devised and arranged by ex-ballerina Karen Munday with the help of star Swan Award winner Fay Ellingham.
Dick promises to help his half-brother Robin to win Rose Maybud’s hand in marriage, but inevitably Dick falls for the girl himself. Robin, who is too nice to admonish him for stealing his intended, broken-heartedly sings a song seemingly praising Dick, but full of back-handed compliments. Nevertheless Rose and Dick are betrothed. The bridesmaids are delighted. The village folk are excited. Dick caps it all by dealing his rival a deadly blow – he announces that Robin is none other than Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd doomed like his forbears to commit fouls deeds or die.
The presumptive holder of that title Sir Despard Murgatroyd, enters, chillingly played by Geoffrey Farrar in evening dress and swirling black crimson-lined cloak. Relieved of the onerous task of his Baronial duties, he passes the cloak of doom on to poor Robin in his rightful role of Sir Ruthven.
A G&S operetta needs a large cast of singers to swell the sound and with a small stage this is not possible. Ingeniously, extra members, ex-members, friends and members of other groups were gathered together forming extra backup from the galleries on either side of the auditorium, the elegant bachelors in natty attire even sporting bowler hats on occasion.
Scene Two opens on the interior of the Ruddigore castle hung with portraits of former Baronets of Ruddigore. A great set – congratulations to Wesley Henderson Roe who was also the excellent performance director.
Robin, aka Sir Ruthven has spectacularly failed to commit any worthwhile crimes. His forbears emerge from their portraits to show him the horrific consequences of his failure.
Dick and Rose arrive with their wedding party to get poor Robin’s blessing, Dick’s pipe has been getting longer throughout the performance as has the feather duster of Old Adam whose stair climbing performance was a sight to see. Old Adam is sent by Robin to capture a lady from the village – “any lady”. He comes back with Dame Hannah. Steve Taylor who sang and acted well as Sir Roderic, the last in line to the title, recognises her to be his little nannickins!
Robin has come up with a way of breaking the curse: all will not be lost. As it is a crime to commit suicide none of the ancestors should have died and the curse is lifted. Sir Roderic and Dame Hannah can be together at last.
Rose drops her sailor lover and marries Robin and everyone lives happily ever after….or do they? Mad Margaret now respectably married to Sir Despard entwines herself around her husband but shows no inward sign of sanity….does the curse of Ruddigore live on?
As with all performances of G&S, professional and amateur alike, the difficulty for the chorus is to get the amusing words of the libretto clearly across to the audience. That said, HLOC did Peter King’s memory proud. The huge number of songs, the quality of the acting, singing and dancing, the lighting, sound and wardrobe were all a great tribute to him.
Didie Bucknall
November 2018
Photography by John Malone
Glitzy Glitterati Rediscovers True Love
High Society
by Cole Porter
BROS Theatre Company at Richmond Theatre until 3rd November
Review by Mark Aspen
True love: well, it “never did run smooth” says Shakespeare’s Lysander. True love: does wealth get in its way? True love: Will it win out in the end?
True love so much a theme in Cole Porter’s musical comedy High Society that the central musical number is called True Love. And this is just what glamorous American socialite Tracy Samantha Lord has lost and is trying to find, as it seems are most of her household, her family and friends.
The glamour and glitz of High Society is BROS’s commemorative show to celebrate the company’s 110th year. For almost half its lifetime, Richmond Theatre has been BROS’s prime venue and is a suitably opulent choice for its special blockbuster musical, the 1998 version of High Society, a concatenation of earlier plays and musical versions, and of two films, variously starring Katherine Hepburn and Grace Kelly as Tracy.
Tracy is the jewel of the Long Island glitterati. It is the summer of 1938 and her household, family and friends are making last minute preparations for her extravagant wedding to successful businessman George Kittredge, who just happens to own a few gold mines.
Then who should swan along, sailing his yacht along the estuary up to the Lord estate, but Tracy’s ex-husband, C.K. Dexter Haven. The name of the yacht … True Love!
The plot thickens when gossip columnists, Mike Macaulay Connor and Liz Imbrie arrive pretending to be guests, whilst covering the wedding for the tabloid Spy. It seems that Dexter has discovered that Spy is planning an exposé of Tracy’s father Seth, who is having an affair with a dancer. It is Dexter’s idea to invite them and cover up the situation by passing off the absent-minded Uncle Willie as the absent husband Seth.
Confusion abounds, lubricated by copious amounts of alcohol at the wedding eve party. At the Lord mansion, the oiling of the party is run smoothly by the coordinated team of the domestic staff, and BROS’s skilful ensemble of an octet of Singing Servants moves the show along like clockwork, setting the scene and commenting on the action like a glitzy Greek chorus.
Well, Did You Evah! … “What a swell party this is”, they all sing as romantic relationships are discovered, rediscovered or uncovered; assignations engineered or thwarted; and bonds broken or created by True Love.
In this swirling melting pot of passions, the unlikely catalyst to the chemistry is Tracy’s precocious pre-pubescent sister, Dinah. “Out of the mouths of babes”, but then again Dinah is perceptive well beyond her years. Thirteen year-old Alice Bonney shines as Dinah. Confident, vibrant and fluent, she puts across the witty, incisive nature of the prematurely worldly-wise shrew. Dinah’s duet with Tracy, the “so, so Fren-ch” sororal spoof, I Love Paris is great fun.
High Society is largely Tracy’s story, and the leading role of Tracy Lord is a gift for the award-winning Heather Stockwell, whose vivacious performance lights up the part. Tracy’s path is one of self-discovery, and Stockwell makes that emotional journey lightly, without losing the sense of joie de vivre that is the essence of Tracy. Although we are treated to a number of group songs featuring Tracy, she has only one real solo, It’s All Right With Me, beautifully executed by Stockwell, but the star centrepiece is True Love, a duet with Dexter, sung with depth, precision and warmth by both singers. Upstage of the duet, we learn, by way of a dance vignette, that Dexter and Tracy were childhood sweethearts. The child dancers, Evan Huntley-Robertson and Lilah Rose Jones are charming, but overextending this conceit to a pair of less fluid adult dancers does distract somewhat from the key moment of the whole story, when we realise that Dexter really is the one for Tracy.
So poor old fiancé George is left high and dry. Even his panegyrical solo to Tracy sounds like a plea, I Worship You , which is sung with vigour by Jason Thomas. He is compelling as George and plays the role as a basically well-intentioned man, but one whose high principles are at odds with the louche Lord milieu.
Nick Moorhead portrays Dexter as a genial and dynamic man, with a ready wit, but one determined to regain his ex-wife. We don’t know why they parted, but we see that both have in truth regretted it. Dexter is not above manipulating everyone’s feelings though, and even gives a model to of his yacht True Love to Tracy as a pre-nuptial present. It has happy memories of their being together, and later, when more sure of his ground, he offers her the real yacht. Moorhead’s singing is rich and strong, and is given full rein in Just One of Those Things, Dexter’s nostalgic reminiscence “that our love affair was too hot not to cool down”.
The journalists, Mike and Liz appear at the start of the evening as a pair of sub-Guardian lefties, but the socialite lifestyle very rapidly seduces them. Mike is soon transformed via a champagne (Veuve Clicquot to be precise) socialist into a full blown sybaritic socialite. The prime mover of his transformation? … Tracy’s charms of course; although at the end he does redeem himself as a gentleman, by not taking bedroom advantage of his hostess when the opportunity (literally) falls his way. You’re Sensational, sings Mike, a solo that showcases the rich baritone of Jacob Botha, who nicely portrays the earnest yet conflicted Mike. Conflicted in a different way, by an unrequited yearning for Mike, is Liz, whom he initially regards as his photographer colleague and partner in dirt-dishing. But Mike cannot see a sassy Liz whose dishes are more wholesome fare. Bex Wood, in this part, shows all the frustrations of Liz’s predicament, beautifully expressed in her solo He’s a Right Guy, delivered in a soft but sturdy mezzo.
The hapless Liz does however, catch the eye of another man, who pursues her relentlessly, the slightly eccentric and highly-forgetful Uncle Willie, who asserts I’m Getting Myself Ready for You, a great comic duet with Liz. However, later having become, at his own admission, increasingly sozzled, Uncle Willie believes that you should Say It with Gin and that’s how he says it. BROS stalwart Carl Smith again proves himself a great comic actor and singer as the harmless pre-senile Uncle Willie.
Staying with the older generation to complete the circle, we find that Tracy’s parents Margaret and Seth also rediscover that their love affair was too hot not to cool down, and so their marriage is rescued. Rachel Williams sparkles as Margaret Lord, as the very much on-the-ball mother, and leading the quartet in Throwing a Ball Tonight reveals a strong and rich singing voice. Martin Wilcox, one of BROS’s longer standing members who knows the Richmond stage well, is very much relaxed in the role of Seth Lord, inhabiting the suave character of man who knows who is boss.
Since much of the musical is taken up with the wedding eve party, there is even more dancing in High Society than in many musicals. With sometimes two dozen dancers on the stage, choreographer Jen Moorhead has her work cut out, and as with all club companies her dancers vary in their experience. Her attention to detail is obvious and dance highlights include her high-kicking girls from the Featured Dancers and the big ensemble piece that opens the second act and merges into Let’s Misbehave (which speaks for itself!). This incorporates a range of Latin styles, including Charleston, Rhumba, and (perhaps anachronistically) Salsa.
Dancing is helped by a fairly open stage, largely a backpiece of the façade of the Lord mansion. Some scenery is flown in, but the trucked trellises for the garden are rather repetitively used. Ed Pagett’s lighting design adds much atmosphere. Suzy Deal’s costume design is colourful, nicely in period and wonderfully coordinated. (One very small niggle though is why do the men often appear with ties undone? Everyone else looking so smart, it really jars. It seems to have started with a tic of Frank Sinatra’s, but now is a cliché. Maybe Sinatra didn’t know how to tie a bow.)
As often, the unsung heroes of a musical are to be found in the pit, and an excellent ten-piece band under musical director Janet Simpson, keep a good pace to the evening. The versatility of the band pays off in tweaking the nuances in the score, and a well-balanced sound is enthusiastically delivered.
As BROS’s glittering anniversary offering, director Deb McDowell brings a slickly oiled production to the well-oiled party that is High Society, ensuring that true love really can run smooth.
Mark Aspen
October 2018
Photography by Paul Nicholas Dyke
Dark Fantasies and Morbid Fascination
Lucia di Lammermoor
by Gaetano Donizetti, libretto by Salvadore Cammarano, based on Sir Walter Scott
English National Opera, London Coliseum until 5th December
Review by Suzanne Frost
Men, nothing but men. Creeping around, peering through windows, observing the girl’s sleep, trespassing into her bedroom. Lucia, the child-bride, the commodity, the goods to be flock to the highest bidder, grieving her recently lost mother and accompanied by a mostly mute governess figure seems to be often the only female in her carefully constrained world.
Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor, one of the most popular works in the opera canon, is a story about family, duty, honour and gender and as such obviously an instrumental item in ENO’s interesting and important season exploring patriarchy. David Alden’s production is a revival, first seen at ENO in 2008 and sent around the world and back three times, but when viewed through the lens of male power structures, Lucia quite evidently slots in nicely this season.
The Bride of Lammermoor is classic gothic horror story penned by nineteenth century novelist Sir Walter Scott inspired by a real-life tabloid scandal of a Scottish noble woman, Lucy Ashton, forced into a politically motivated marriage, stabbing her bridegroom during their wedding night. These kind of spooky “penny-dreadfuls” became immensely popular in the nineteenth century, so Alden’s choice to set the story in a sort of nondescript Victorian age is genius, an era ripe with oppressed sexuality, dark fantasies and a morbid fascination with (mostly female) insanity. While the demanding, technically virtuoso bel canto part of Lucia is a role written to showcase a real prima donna, Alden and the extremely fragile and slight soprano Sarah Tynan emphasis her innocence and vulnerability. This Lucia is already leered over and sized up for her sexual worth, while still clutching her doll and skipping around. There is something “off” about her, right from the start though, her playfulness and childishness already closer to insanity than innocence, her isolation and emotional distance maybe a symptom of previous trauma. Alden hints at abuse and paedophilia with her despotic brother Enrico tying his sister to her bed using her skipping rope to grope her childlike body and the constant lurking and climbing through windows to enter the space feels intrusive at every stage. Following the libretto though, Enrico has very little actual feelings for his sister and sees her merely as a tool, a means to secure a fortune through a prosperous marriage. God forbid, he would figure out how to make money himself when he has a woman at his disposal to sell. The evil Enrico is sung by Lester Lynch in a powerful baritone accompanied with lots of eye rolling cartoon villain ham acting. Lucia’s passion for Enrico’s arch enemy, the noble but poor Edgardo, seems more like a longing for safeguarding than an actual crush – the man saved her once from danger, that might be enough for such a troubled girl to trigger visions of escaping to a more trustworthy environment. Edgardo’s “love” for Lucia also seems more like kind affection – nobody in their right mind should physically desire this child. Nor should anyone approve her selling off like cattle at the market and under such visible distress. Alden uses effective theatrical tricks to expose society’s complicity in Lucia’s downfall, men holding up brooding portraits of stern looking ancestors to enforce duty and tradition while the women strongly support those structures laying their hands firmly on the shoulders of their partners. Couples toasting the happy occasion of a wedding party, ignoring Lucia sprawled on the dining table like a dead piece of meat. And later for the popular mad scene, as Lucia sings herself to death, society sits motionless, like spectators at the theatre quietly motioning applause. While the theatre metaphor works in the moment, the suffering woman displayed on stage for entertainment, those moments of heightened performativity are scattered few and far in between and feel a bit out of the blue, not coherent with the otherwise largely traditionally played action.
The stripped down set by Charles Edwards is instrumental in creating a miserable, barren atmosphere of hopelessness, high bare walls and barred up windows evoking the sense of claustrophobia that you might feel in an institution, while effective details such as crumbling wallpaper and a broken sofa bolstered up on books serve as reminders of the financial difficulties the run-down family is faced with. Brigitte Reiffenstuhl’s costume are a sea of monochrome grey, nicely singling out the blood soaked, disturbed bride as a colourful focal point – although I didn’t like the awkwardness of Lucia’s gigantic restricting petticoats, but maybe that is the whole point. Bathed mostly in darkness by lighting designer Adam Silverman, the scenes often evoke still life paintings by old masters and the mostly very static direction of the ensemble helps with this but not necessarily with bringing the story to life. As the single most action-laden scene, the wedding party contrasts effectively with the murder and doom bringing celebration to a sudden end.
As a regal Calvinistic chaplain and a fur clad pimp respectively, Raimondo (Clive Bailey) and suitor Arturo (Michael Colvin) serve as the other two male stereotypes keeping women in check with their mutually out-cancelling expectations of virtue on one hand and lose morals on the other.
My main problem, and I am ever so sorry for even daring to say this, is with Donizetti. While his music is heartbreakingly beautiful, his lyrical melodies as pretty as can be, it is rarely tragic, never gothic or spooky. His shtick about never ending finales, the sweet florid embellishments and ornamentations turn singers into trilling little birds not dramatic heroes. Add to that the clunky English translation by Amanda Holden and you expose yourself to unintentional humour that more than once triggered grown men to giggle in the stalls. As grim as the story on stage is, as much as Alden amps the creep-factor and Tynan gives us good victim – I felt very little. Tynan is a phenomenal singer, her voice as clear as the glass harmonica Donizetti used for its spooky sound (an instrument itself doused in ghost stories of its apparently deranging effect on players) yet I was never spooked – rather left with a feeling of numb sadness. Lucia di Lammermoor is an example par excellence of a woman used as punch bag and playball between men and I suppose this facet of patriarchy needs to be included this season – but it probably makes for the most uncomfortable viewing.
Suzanne Frost
October 2018
Photography by John Snelling
Victory Winged With Peace
The Centenary Walk
Arts Richmond Poetry Hub at East Twickenham, 21st October
Review by Poppy Rose Jervis
On a Sunday morning a group of people set out to make a very special journey. It is one of those gorgeous autumnal days of the “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness…” variety – the sort that remind you simultaneously of sparkling frost with log fires, and a warm glowing sun.
Similarly conflicted, as anticipation sought to harmonise with respect and empathic sadness on a fresh, bright day, we walk along with the interwoven emotions and strands of this journey entwining to commemorate and honour all those in or affected by The First World War, remind ourselves of those who lost their lives and those who lost loved ones, celebrate poetry and poets old and new but through an artistry born of tragedy, and re-awaken an awareness in our rich local heritage and beautiful surroundings. Memorials and poetry along the way mingle the poignant past with the here and now and powerfully transporting us in our journey alongside those who had made their own journey at the time.
Expertly guided by sisters, Helen Baker and Carol Wain of the Richmond in Europe Association, we learn of the Pelabon Munitions Works site and the East Twickenham Belgium community, discover little known facts at each stopping place, are fed with nuggets of interest, enlightened and fortified with local information and history, and sustained with bitter-sweet poetry. On a day that saw thousands attend the FiLiA Conference, a pause by the factory site (now a development of luxury flats) offered not just an insight into the changing face of East Twickenham and its landscape, and a time to reflect on the past, but served to remind how the dedication and strength of women workers during the war, against all adversity and in the face of untold misery, has affected women’s liberation today … “We are the daughters of the women who came before us …”
We think of The Great War poets, some writing bitterly and graphically of the horrific reality, despairing of God and country, while others exulted, glorifying patriotism and honour. Some died. Some survived. All left a legacy and the First World War is forever closely associated with the literature and poetry of its time. This was a time to listen, a time to read, and a time to reflect with a sensitive selection of work.
We walk on in the autumn sun through residential streets keeping their past a secret and not showing any traces or giving away any clues of what had gone on before, until, that is, we get to the leafy embankment where the public monument, tucked away and carved from Belgian Blue stone speaks eloquently of the 6,000 Belgian refugees and injured soldiers who made up “The Belgian Village on the Thames”. The words, “Memories flow through me like a boat flows down the river”, wrapping the memorial in English, French and Flemish (the languages of those immigrant Belgians) are read out to us by an eleven-year-old girl on the walk. The inscription was written by Issy Holton, a then eight-year-old pupil attending Orleans Primary School, the school attended by the Twickenham Belgian children during the war years.
Here, we listen to Carol Wain read her own moving poem about the Belgian community returning home to Belgium at the end of WW1 and to Gerald Baker reading a poem written by his wife, Helen Baker, creating a visual image of the red, white, and black tulips symbolic of warfare, peace, and hatred.
An autumn morning, glistening in glorious sunshine, we continue on our way and in the gentle breeze. Standing on the mound overlooking the Poppy Factory, Ian Lee-Dolphin reads In Flanders Fields by Major John McCrae, and Heather Montford, her own beautiful poem, Painting for the Botanist, vividly and intricately describing the poppy and remembering what it stands for.
Chatting softly to each other, we walk on again, along the river and under the bridge and, as celebrations for Trafalgar Day are being held on the Warship HMS Victory in anniversary and honour of the 1805 battle that confirmed the Britain as ruler of the waves, we find ourselves on this The Centenary Walk of 2018, alongside the River Thames and its gently lapping waves, a quiet and thoughtful group gathered around the Richmond War Memorial with a sailor on the north side and a soldier on the south, coats of arms to the east and west and its engraved wall of names, and we listen in silence to the last three poems of our journey: Drummer Hodge by Thomas Hardy, read by Ian Lee-Dolphin; I Stood by the Dead by Siegfried Sassoon, read by Graham Harmes; and The Man He Killed by Thomas Hardy, read by Anne Warrington. We remember once again, in the approach to Armistice Day that glorious victories are also great tragedies.
Thoroughly researched, perfectly planned and expertly organised, this event sang out with the success it deserved. All too often, caught up in the everyday bustle and turmoil of life, we are guilty of forgetting to remember. On Sunday 21st October we were given permission to pause our busy lives, we were given time to remember generations past and to think of generations new.
The sun was shining, the birds were singing and down by the river, the strains of a guitar could be heard. Of course, one hesitates to say, that an event commemorating such suffering and sadness is enjoyable, but what an opportunity to pay respects, to recognise and keep the bravery alive, to celebrate our culture and heritage, and remind ourselves of what’s around us through the artistry of poetry.
One couldn’t help feeling, as we stood above the river and under a canopy of leaves, and with the sun shining through, that we had been at one, sharing a wonderful celebration.
Poppy Rose Jervis
October 2018
Photography by Heather Moulson and Graham Harmes
Venice from Rome: A Pound of Flesh with All the Trimmings
The Merchant of Venice
by William Shakespeare
Bedouin Shakespeare Company at The Duke of York’s Theatre until 22nd October
Review by Denis Valentine
The Bedouin Shakespeare Company fresh from a successful run at the Globe in Rome, has brought its current production of The Merchant of Venice to the Duke of York’s Theatre, marking its West End debut.
The type and style of the production is set immediately in the opening moments, with upbeat music accompanying a modern dress and setting. Anyone familiar with the company’s previous works and shows under director Chris Pickles will immediately see before a line is even spoken that the recognisable elements of fun and playfulness are all there.
From the cast, special mention must go to Clare Bloomer who offers a dynamic performance as Shylock, gaining sympathy or aversion towards the character at all the right moments and having the ability to switch mid-scene between the two. Her “Am I not the same” monologue is allowed to reverberate hauntingly around the theatre, as it poses very relevant questions to modern day issues. It is quite poignant, in a production that often uses music and other accompaniments in its scenes, that in this moment Bloomer is given a silent stage in which to work and weave a very telling piece
Janna Fox and Eleanor Russo play their scenes as Portia and Nerissa brilliantly, offering a steady straightness to proceedings which allow the often more comedic elements around them to work to full effect.
Michael Watson-Gray is often hilarious, as he plays an array of characters, with special mention going to his Prince of Aragon and a scene with Russo (who also offers a wonderful turn as Old Gobba in perfect Italian) as Launcelot Gobbo. The only unfortunate symptom of Watson-Gray having to multi-role as so many characters is there are certain moments in the show where it seems, through no fault of his own, like the a character showcase arising out of numbers necessity rather than being fluid with the production.
The BSC often implements a lot of different elements in its shows and Director Pickles takes full advantage of his multi-talented cast. There are musical numbers, clowning, commedia-dell-arte, physical comedy and moments of modern day ad-libs to the text, all expertly woven in and performed.
All the actors work well off of each other and are given their individual moments to shine. Camilla Simson, Kiki Darlowe, Azaan Symes, George Caporn and Edward Andrews all prove themselves to be very capable Shakespearian players with great commands of the text and the aforementioned wide variety of theatrical elements that BSC productions offer.
The only real stumbling block with the production is that at times scenes can feel dragged out for the sake of adding humour and some restraint with this element would have allowed the more genuine moments to shine through. Although an oft-used cliché ‘less is more’ would be a term to possibly apply here.
Overall the show is an enjoyable piece of Shakespearian theatre with moments that make it a unique production, but with a lot of care and respect given to the play’s classical nature and intention.
The BSC under Artistic Director Edward Andrews continues to expand and is an exciting, up-and-coming Shakespeare company with a growing amount of shows here, in Europe and the UAE.
Denis Valentine
October 2018
Photography courtesy of BSC
Waiting for Volcan-o
Vulcan 7
by Nigel Planer and Adrian Edmondson
Jonathan Church and Theatre Royal Bath at Richmond Theatre until 27th October, then on tour until 10th November
Review by Andrew Lawston
Jimmy Cagney once said, “They pay me for the waiting. I throw in the acting for free.” In Vulcan 7, respected character actor Hugh Delavois (Nigel Planer) and faded Hollywood A-lister Gary Savage (Adrian Edmondson) demonstrate Cagney’s old line at Richmond Theatre this week as they skulk in Hugh’s trailer on the set of a blockbuster which is filming on an unexpectedly active Icelandic volcano.
Nigel Planer and Adrian Edmondson are lead actors and also writers of this ambitious new comedy, and they have written a dense character piece that is closer to Waiting for Godot than to the style of anarchic comedy for which they first became known in the 1980s. Hugh and Gary squabble, sing, quote, reminisce, swear, and pile scorn on Daniel Day-Lewis.
The two fictional actors have not met for some time, and their previous encounter led to Hugh becoming a viral hit on YouTube as Gary poured custard over his head while he was having lunch with Alan Bennett (“the arbiter of British comedy”). Their initial spikiness is oddly unconvincing despite its vehemence, and sure enough the immense shared history of the two characters quickly overcomes their sometimes violent rivalry. The two ageing thespians come to realise their – never exactly mutual – affection, but rather that despite their different paths in life, they have both ended up alone and miserable.
The cast of this three hander is completed by Lois Chimimba as Leela Vitoli, and she gives a fantastic performance as her status shifts throughout the play. She develops from being a put-upon junior crew member cajoling self-indulgent actors and bringing entertaining titbits of news from the film’s delayed production schedule; gradually becoming an equal partner as the volcano begins to stir and the three characters find themselves cut off from the rest of the film set.
The illusion of a bustling film set lying just beyond the trailer’s door is maintained by Leela’s constant interjections, and updates from her radio headset. We learn about her complicated relationship with Paul, and about Gary’s violent altercations with Jesus (“Has he found Jesus?” asks Hugh at one point, only to be corrected with the Spanish pronunciation).
Director Steve Marmion keeps the show moving at a great pace, and seems to have coaxed carefully measured performances from his two leads. If at times Adrian Edmondson in particular strays a little close to his Vivian persona from The Young Ones; that’s probably an inevitable consequence of his wearing an impressive giant lobster costume (for his role as Angry Thermidon, with just one line) for the whole of Act One. Angry Thermidon’s costume was so impressive that it probably ought to count as a fourth cast member. It was an outrageous combination of rubber suit and prosthetic make-up, but avoided going for any cheap laughs by also being completely plausible as a cinematic monster costume, and all credit to Sarah Stoddard for pulling it off!
In terms of staging, Simon Higlett’s set is both a stunning recreation of a carefully soulless actor’s trailer, and a masterpiece of theatrical engineering. The play could quite easily be performed on a flat stage, but the spectacular tilt of the main set, aided by Philip Gladwell’s clever lighting effects (including the convincing depiction of a helicopter airlift!), raises the stakes incrementally throughout Act 2.
From the lurid action movie pastiche poster to the impressively bombastic score from recent Doctor Who alumnus Murray Gold, Vulcan 7 never misses an opportunity to poke affectionate fun at action films, from their stodgy dialogue onwards.
Even the programme is an entertaining revelation, with a double page spread reproducing the day’s “call sheet” and risk assessment that no one ever reads, but to which Leela refers throughout the play, with increasing exasperation. The attention to detail is quite magnificent, and the piece was apparently written with significant input from Adrian Edmondson, referring at one point to his recent turn in The Last Jedi.
By the time the play approaches its climax, Jimmy Cagney’s famous quote could be replaced by a Noel Coward line: “Don’t put your daughter on the stage, Mrs Worthington.” The two actors have both changed their names and denied their roots, effectively even making a performance of their own private lives. As they take it in turns to plead with Leela for some kind of vindication, their misery is finally laid bare. The brightly-lit sitcom feel of the first scene, where Adrian Edmondson scampers around the trailer while dressed as a giant lobster, is replaced completely by a much more sombre tableau.
Vulcan 7 is first and foremost a highly entertaining new comedy that provides a masterclass in the effective use of swearing to heighten dialogue, but its reflections on the acting profession, performance, and the volatility of identity, make it well worth a watch.
Andrew Lawston
October 2018
Photography by Nobby Clark
Dramatic Narrative in Motion
Pink Mist
by Owen Sheers
Teddington Theatre Club at the Hampton Hill Theatre until 27th October
Review by Celia Bard
On display in The Temple Church in London is a poem entitled “A Phantasy” written by a little-known poet, Wilf Hastwell, who’d once served as a chorister in The Temple. The poem’s brutal imagery and harsh word sounds clearly reveals the deeply disturbed mind of this young soldier. On Easter Sunday 8th April 1917 this poet soldier was killed in the trenches in France, most likely dissipating into a fine cloud of blood entering the atmosphere, creating a ‘pink mist’, the title of this play. Since then countless numbers of soldiers have died or have been physically disabled. Of the three young soldiers, the main characters in Pink Mist, one is blown up by an IED (an improvised explosive device – i.e a homemade bomb), another loses both legs, the third loses his mind. From the onset of the play, like the poem, the audience is faced with the terrible reality of war and its aftermath. Nothing has changed since that War, the one that was supposed to End All Wars.
Pink Mist tells the story of three young men, Arthur, Taff and Hads, who are deployed to Afghanistan after enlisting to get away from their homes and monotonous lives. The play is written in verse and, like the poem referred to above, the rhythmic lines imprint themselves on the minds of the audience. The playwright in an interview explains that his drama is based on interviews with recently wounded men and their families. The authenticity of the experiences of these men shine through the drama with stark reality.
The opening scene shows the three soldiers and the women in the lives, a wife, a mother, a girlfriend, enacting a series of poetic dramatisations of their lives: their growing up experience in Bristol, including the boys’ childhood ironic chants of “Who Wants to Play War?”; the appeal of the army; the horrific reality of war, it is not a game; the return to civilian life; the psychological and physical changes in the men resulting from their traumatic experience of fighting in Afghanistan, and the impact this has on the lives of their womenfolk.
This highly dramatic narrative proem provides a wonderful opportunity for physical drama and the cast, director and back stage crew do not disappoint. The innovative choreographed movements and gestures of the actors, the backgrounds sounds of war such as the sudden explosions, high pitched screams of a woman, atmospheric and vivid lighting succeed in assaulting the senses, pulling the audience into a hypnotic alliance with the actors and the characters they portray.
The verse is powerful and rich in imagery. The rhythm and sound patterns contribute to the sense of horror and futility experienced by the three soldiers who join the army as boys but soon mature into revengeful fighting machines. The verse contains such a strong mesmerising quality, you hardly dare to breathe, so compelling is the dramatic quality of the poetic lines, the imagery, the action, and the acting.
David Shortland is outstanding as Arthur Brown, the young lad whose imagination is fired by advertising posters plastered on the walls of the Information Centre, and later as the mature soldier known as “King” to his mates. David totally owns this role as narrator and also in his interaction with other characters. His quieter and deeply poetic moments are very moving especially when describing the taking of a bird’s egg from its nest, and when watching a man dive to his death from a cliff top. These moments contrast sharply with his more action-filed moments … ….
Tom Cooper as Taff provides a powerful interpretation of a young man who plummets the depth of despair when he witnesses first hand the impact of “Blue upon Blue”, friendly fire. Back in civvy street he withdraws more and more from his wife and young child, drinking heavily and eventually ending up sleeping on the streets. At the end of the play we see there is some level of redemption and feel that his fractured and tortured mind might start to recover. This is a beautifully rounded and sensitive performance.
Hads played by Jack Lumb is an interesting character, just seventeen when he joins the army. Not much older when he loses both his legs whilst sweeping the landscape for I.E.Ds. Early in his recovery he expresses a feeling of relief that although he has lost his legs, he still has life. Later he sinks onto a slough of despair. His recovery begins when Arthur is bought home in a coffin. The stumps of his legs are not healed, there is danger that he will do further damage to his back if he stands, but he does stand to honour his friend. This young actor does justice to this exacting physical role which demands so much from an actor.
Pink Mist is beautifully balanced in terms of its male and female characters. The writer’s portrayal of women is not neglected and contrasts sharply with that of the men. The women may be smaller, but they are strong. The men mature physically but are reduced at times to childhood. Arthur’s long-suffering girl friend, Gwen, played by Rebecca Tarry, provide a multifaceted portrayal. In turn she is angry, frustrated, hurt by Arthur’s insensitive behaviour, but she remains loyal. Asha Gill as Lisa is totally convincing as the frustrated mother of not one child but two: the second, her husband. Hads’s mother, Sarah, played by Helen Lowe moves from a position of non-recognition and shock to one of total love and support. All three women actors give fine and sensitive performances.
Nigel Cole and Gita Singham-Willis must be applauded for their craftmanship, without doubt they are a winning duo. The transformation between scenes work seamlessly, the choreography and physicality of the actors complement the verse and the cinematographic images succeed in establishing different time periods and locations. The wonderful sound and lighting effects bring home the horrors of the battlefields contrasting sharply with the beat and frenzy of the nightclub. This production of Pink Mist is drama at its best. The beautiful poetic nature of the narrative, its stark realism, wonderful acting and choreography, superb direction, make it a production not to be missed.
Celia Bard
October 2018
Photography by Sarah J Carter
Won’t Someone Think of the Animals?
Keepers
by Ben Clare
Lifelike Theatre at OSO Arts Centre, Barnes, until 19th October
Review by Matthew Grierson
If Kerry is awkwardly natural when she introduces Amy to the zoo, Tom is naturally awkward on meeting his new colleague. Small talk and business-speak combine in Kerry’s opening monologue, which is nicely observed both in terms of Ben Clare’s writing and Ally Staddon’s performance as the upbeat but dim-witted keeper. The scene serves not only as Amy’s orientation but also our own introduction to the dynamic of this three-hander, a new play that looks at first to be a study of the relationship between her (Emma Miles) and Tom (Craig Bates).
Once Kerry has waved a cheery goodbye, Tom and Amy are soon chopping carrots in synch – though as he points out, she needn’t been cutting them into so many pieces because the animals need to do a bit of chewing to improve their teeth. It mayn’t be wise to draw attention to eating so early: at various points in the play, Bates has to munch on fruit or pizza while delivering dialogue, something that doesn’t help his tendency to swallow his words. That said, the occasional lost line at least plays up – or rather, plays down – Tom’s diffidence.
The small talk between the two becomes bigger, with a sometimes stilted rhythm that complements their hesitantly developing chemistry. It is appealingly naturalistic, but runs the risk of contrivance at times. There’s a particular scene that relies repeatedly on the device of one of them not knowing a word and having the other come up with it, and yes, this does suggest two people realising they are similarly minded, but it also draws attention to its staginess. Likewise, while the sound effects of birdsong aren’t themselves intrusive, in those moments that they are audible they remind us that there ought actually to be more animal noise from the hippos, penguins, llamas and tapirs that roam the dialogue.
The music cues on the other hand – appropriately enough from the Penguin Cafe – underscore the tender atmosphere of Tom and Amy’s relationship. And with the dialogue both deliberately and accidentally awkward, the cast are also able to make good use of silences, with those when Amy bandages Tom’s cut finger and Tom waits for a tapir focusing, rather than losing, our attention.
Before too long, however, the play puts larger issues at stake. Tom relates an anecdote about a woman visiting the zoo who refused to accept that one of the animals had cancer, and who insisted that it could be treated with alternative therapy. Tom’s frustration at the wilful ignorance of the public in contrast to expert knowledge seems to be taking the play in an interesting direction. As it is juxtaposed with a peppy talk on meerkats, in which Kerry tells us ‘We’re not worried about them in the wild – they’re not endangered’, I sensed we might be being introduced to the idea that the zoo was a microcosm of our planet, and this was reinforced by some nicely comic confusion between Amy and Kerry over whether they are talking about Africa as a continent or an enclosure. In which case, public obliviousness to the zoo animals’ mortality could represent a wider, wilful human blindness to the extinction event we’re now living through, couldn’t it?
I was right about the zoo as an analogy, but I was wrong about its subject. This becomes immediately evident when Kerry tells Amy about a staff vote on whether the zoo should leave the International Zoo Federation. As an incidental gag this is laboured; as a sustained plotline it is still more so, and sees the play’s careful establishment of characters solidify them into argumentative positions instead. I won’t insult anyone’s intelligence by suggesting what the elephant that is not in the room might be, but Clare’s script has no such reservations. Moreover, he takes a very one-sided view, with the sympathetic Amy and Tom positioned as remainers and the chirpy but superficial Kerry not allowed the ability to mount a convincing counter-argument.
This political agenda co-opts even the play’s better-crafted moments, viz. a pub quiz question on the function of zebra stripes. If camouflage is a discredited theory, why bother disguising the clear political parallels of the piece? Where the dialogue succeeds it does so on the strength of its naturalism, which means Clare would have had licence to let his characters come out and talk about the issues that so clearly concern him. After all, people have been talking plenty about this issue at home, at work and, in all likelihood, at zoos as well over the past couple of years.
Indeed, the exchange when Tom and Amy confront Kerry about leaving the EU – sorry, I mean the IZF – is certainly meant to be as awkward as any of these conversations, but merely confirms the characters in their positions rather than making theatrical use of the tension. With tighter direction, I might even have been convinced that the long silences were meaningful rather than just hesitation over pick-ups. Also awkward are some of the scene changes, as several times the cast are called on to strike a table that is laden with carrots and apples that roll off on to the floor. They’d better watch that … it’ll attract animals.
Once the political posturing is taken off into the wings with Kerry’s departure, though, we return to the character study with which the play began, and as Amy, Miles delivers a captivating monologue about her time in Botswana. This is a pleasant surprise, because although her reticence about her past has been contrasted with Kerry’s oversharing throughout, that story has been sidelined by the dominance of the leave vs remain plot. Even though the emotional beats of her closing speech are not unpredictable, Miles demands our attention, confirming the status she has built up through the piece as a confident and charismatic lead. Admittedly, her account of a former boyfriend is rather undermined when she then says she could spend all night talking to Tom … The audience is spared his own story, however – awkward as ever, we only get his opening ‘I –’ before the lights go down. The rest, as they say, is silence.
If only the script could have exercised such restraint with politics. As it is, Tom and Amy’s case depends on what a leave vote means for the lives of the animals they manage. But the play can’t ask us to invest in zoological welfare when Clare himself is only using the animals as an analogy for contemporary British politics, because he then fails to practise what he preaches. ‘If only the animals came first,’ indeed.
As a result, Keepers ends up being as earnest as Tom, and doesn’t use its promising setting or set-up to offer new insights into the political situation that is clearly on the writer’s mind.
Matthew Grierson
October 2018
Photography courtesy of Lifelike Theatre
Mark Aspen 