All in Place
Hairspray JR
by Marc O’Donnell and Thomas Meehan
Questors Youth Theatre at Judi Dench Playhouse, Questors Theatre, Ealing until 7th March
Review by Vince Francis
Hairspray JR is a cut-down version of the full musical, Hairspray, edited to be family friendly and thus a candidate for schools or youth theatre productions.
For those who may not be familiar, the original Hairspray is an American musical with music by Marc Shaiman, lyrics by Scott Wittman and Shaiman and a book by Mark O’Donnell and Thomas Meehan, based on John Waters’s 1988 film of the same name. The action is set in Baltimore, Maryland in 1962 and the songs include 1960s-style dance music and downtown rhythm and blues. The plot revolves around the heroine, teenager Tracy Turnblad, whose dream is to dance on The Corny Collins Show, a local TV dance programme based on the real-life Buddy Deane Show. When Tracy wins a role on the show, she becomes a celebrity overnight, leading to numerous consequences. One consequence is stealing the boyfriend of the incumbent Miss Teenage Hairspray; an altogether bigger consequence is the beginning of social change as she campaigns for racial integration on the show.
So, where to start? Well, the show is a one-act version, running for approximately 75 mins and, with a curtain up time of 7:15pm, it is both appealing to and practical for parents and the children involved. It is playing in the main auditorium, where the stage thrust has been removed to provide space for extra seating facing the proscenium and a walkway created in the space surrounding this seating.
The production itself is a delight. I did wonder whether abridging the book to this extent might mean that some significant elements may be lost. Some are, of course, for example the relationship between Tracy’s parents, Edna and Wilbur, isn’t explored to the same extent as the full production, which means their comedy duet (You’re) Timeless to Me is dropped. However, Alice Barker and Joshua Carr in the respective roles capture the deep connection between the two. There are a couple of other numbers omitted, but actually – dare I say it – they aren’t missed as much as I thought they might be. So, the lesson for me is that this is a production in its own right and should be treated as such.
Emily Turner gives a beguiling performance as Tracy Turnblad, having an excellent singing voice and a sense of innocence and wholesomeness that is key to the character.
Isaac Beck has captured the spirit of the 1960’s television presenter; slick, slightly sickly, but always seemingly in control. Similarly, Sam Thompson Roche’s Link Larkin provides the veneer of Elvis-like louche cool that cracks with the warmth of true affection. The Temptations-style number It Takes Two is one to savour.
I’ve often heard actors say that playing baddies is more fun that playing goodies and Blonda Bolganschi, who I’m sure is delightful in real life, is clearly having fun here providing us with the deliciously spiteful over-indulged princess that is Amber Von Tussle in the process. A nod here, too, to Stella Robinson’s interpretation of Amber’s ambitious mother, Velma, which was equally forcefully played.
William Connor gives an admirably assured and mature portrayal of Seaweed J. Stubbs, complimented by some of the slickest dance moves in the show.
I like Motormouth Maybelle ‘s rendition of the iconic I Know Where I’ve Been very much. Motormouth is played by Destiny West, whose voice is well suited to this number, but I felt she was a little nervous, which is perfectly understandable for opening night in the main house. She needn’t be, in my view, and once she relaxes a little, I’m confident that will soar.
The direction of the piece was overall pleasingly pacy and made good use of the space, with cast and chorus using the auditorium stairways and the passerelle to great effect – particularly in minimising the crowding that can take place exiting the stage after a big chorus number. Also, the use of suggested scenery, such as the hand-held jail bars, helps to keep things rolling.
Sarah Page’s choreography hits the mark with period appropriate moves and a well-disciplined chorus. Everyone looks confident and happy in what they’re doing – well, nearly everyone, but, hey. The three girls as backing singer-dancers work particularly well.
Musical Director Dave Roberts is well established in youth theatre, his experience stretching back beyond 1996, when he formed Starlight Theatre Company. This experience shines through the performances both of principals and the chorus – and, indeed, the band. I liked Chris Edwards drum percussion lines a lot and had a sneaking suspicion he may be adding to the score. If that’s true, then credit to him, but also to Dave Roberts for being confident enough in his team to give that space.
Great use is made of colour in the design. The set consists of a decorated cyclorama with a large angled square frame set slightly downstage, which represents the television screens of the time and provides a focal point for parts of the action. Other pieces, such as jail bars, are set and struck by the cast as required. The use of bright colours is effective in suggesting the décor of the period and supporting the generally upbeat spirit of the show. Costumes reflect this approach too. Everyone on stage looks authentic and comfortable in their rig. The ‘glam’ costumes sparkle and the day-to-day costumes fit nicely with each other. Good straightforward lighting brings out the best in both and the use of strobe in one of the later scenes is very effective.
Sound-wise, Danny Tigg’s design was exactly what was required. The score for this show is energetic and soulful and there is a risk that the band could run away with it and overpower the cast. To Dan’s credit, that isn’t the case here. There is a bit of ‘techie-ness’ used that gets the musicians wired directly into the sound desk, thus removing the need for any local amplification. I think – I may be wrong – that even the drummer was playing an electronic kit, which was ideal for this production, as the output levels are wholly under the control of the desk. The sound desk in Questors is in the auditorium, so the sound operator can monitor and adjust according to what’s going on. The benefit is twofold, in my opinion: firstly, the musicians can still play with all the energy that is required and secondly, that energy can be managed to a level that is pleasing to the audience and supportive to the cast.
From the optimistic opening number Good Morning, Baltimore, to the celebratory closer, You Can’t Stop the Beat, this is a joyous production and a great night out. See it if you can.
Vince Francis
February 2020
Photography by Jane Arnold-Forster
‘As if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen’
Madam Butterfly
by Giacomo Puccini, libretto by Giuseppe Giacosa and Luigi Illica, after Bellasca
English National Opera, Metropolitan Opera and Lithuanian National Opera, the Coliseum, until 17th April
A review by Matthew Grierson
Madam Butterfly opens in silence: from the cinematic space at the rear of the stage, the silhouette of Cio-Cio San appears and moves down the ramp towards the audience, fluttering fans and trailing cloths in a way that suggests the insect from which she takes her name. It’s a striking image, presumably conceived by the original director Anthony Minghella, and prepares one for a production in which visual spectacle will predominate.
At its best, this emphasis is a perfect complement to mood and action. Near the end of Act I, Pinkerton and Butterfly are alone together and the lights pick them out, both in their white outfits against the dark, with moon-shaped paper lanterns gradually closing in on them. It’s a tender moment that concentrates our attention on the lead and her lover, and one can almost believe, as she does, that he will love her forever. But the image also speaks to their isolation, given her ostracism from family and society in Nagasaki, and his distance from home – and the life he will live without her.
There is an echo of this scene after the second interval: whether it is Butterfly’s dream or that of her maid, Suzuki, a marionette of Cio-Cio San is married to an Asian dancer in the guise of Pinkerton, and they perform a ballet that parodies the relationship between the two lovers to that point. The motif of puppetry is an important one to this production, what with its mini mannequin son, origami birds and even servants playing puppets, and suggests we need to be conscious of who’s pulling the strings even as the stagecraft contrives to hide them.
The production treads lightly at first, conscious it is walking on thin ice with a tragic depth beneath. The marriage scene is rueful, almost playful, although with Sharpless’ enquiry about whether the 15-year-old Butterfly has a sister we are never far from the sordid realities of the trans-Pacific relationship. The mannered quality is clear in the contrast between Butterfly’s white bridal gown – matching her husband’s uniform – and the vibrant colour blocks of her entourage, there first to witness the nuptials with a jaunty good humour, and subsequently drawn into denouncing it by her uncle, the Bonze.
As the tragic Butterfly, Natalya Romaniw is remarkable, her performance tender and mischievous in her flirtatious early encounters with Pinkerton, deepening as they become closer throughout the first act. In each of her arias, Romaniw sings affectingly, raising the hairs on one’s neck. Through the middle of Act II she awaits the return of her husband with a fragile faithfulness, ultimately broken when he arrives with his American wife in tow. Romaniw completely sells these transitions, with the precision of her singing giving way to the rawness of her screams, and this allows her sudden suicide the weight it might otherwise lack.
Support comes from Stephanie Windsor-Lewis as Cio-Cio San’s reliable maid, Suzuki, a wry presence who is later realistic enough to see that her mistress has been betrayed. Butterfly also gets a good hearing from US consul Sharpless, who in Roderick Williams’ performance is endearingly awkward, and one still senses that, some diplomatic faux pas aside, he wants to do right by her.
The difficult task of making one sympathise with Pinkerton – a failed Romeo who does not match his lover’s suicide – falls to Dimitri Pittas. Despite whipping up some good-natured booing from the audience at his curtain call, Pittas is successfully engaging over the preceding three hours, his Lieutenant blithe and careless, at least at first. Indeed, his intimidation by Cio-Cio San’s assembled family, and the way his libido bursts into expression through song, make him almost as adolescent as his bride. So absorbed he has been in his own desire that he doesn’t seem to realise that his wife, young as she is, is a person in her own right, and not his puppet.
There is, then, a gentle, surprised humour in the way he responds to the dolls that she produces of her ancestors, and this has two ramifications in the production. First of all, within moments we learn that his full name is Benjamin Franklin Pinkerton and that he is a lieutenant about the USS Abraham Lincoln, both of which are celebrations of his own ancestors through American cultural swagger. Yet, second, their son, is a descendant brought to life as a puppet himself, manipulated by black-clad, ninja-like stagehands. The craft they use is simple and manages to be very touching, each turn of the head or gesture of the hand speaking of the child’s awestruck attention to the world.
None of the production’s design is anything less than accomplished – it looks fabulous, in fact – but given so many outlets it is difficult at times to know where to look. The sliding paper screens making up Pinkerton’s love nest are slid in and out by the stagehands, sometimes disguising an entrance or exit by one of the principals, sometimes serving as a blank on to which the shadow of another can be projected; behind them is the ramp down which the cast can enter in silhouette, backed by widescreen light that varies from clear day to romantic sunset; and in front the puppets that may represent children, dreams, or just puppets. So giddy with possibility, it’s as though no one has decided what the visual focus of the staging will be.
With this reliance on spectacle, there is also a lack of dynamism in the blocking. Although entrances are strikingly visual as characters come in great waves over the back, once they are downstage most of the action takes place in one plane, and tends to be fairly static, though this may be a function of the most dynamic performers – the puppeteers and scenery hands – being specifically invisible in black.
It is a more fitting spectacle with which this rousing production ends, however: where the trains of cloth that accompanied Butterfly on her arrival signified the freedom of her flight, they are at the close the blood she sheds as she renounces this world forever.
Matthew Grierson
February 2020
Photographs © Jane Hobson
One Step, Two Steps, Tickly Under There
Round and Round the Garden
by Alan Ayckbourn
Rare Fortune Productions at OSO Arts Centre, Barnes until 6th March
Review by Eleanor Marsh
Part of Ayckbourn’s The Norman Conquests trilogy, Round and Round the Garden is based on the premise that Annie, who is the main carer of her demanding mother, has decided she needs a weekend off. She has been beguiled by her sister Ruth’s husband Norman and is planning on a “dirty weekend”; something she has never before contemplated. Things inevitably go wrong when Norman arrives early to collect her rather than meet as planned and they are joined by brother Reg and his wife Sarah and – for added farcical comedy value – sister Ruth. The family are also visited by local vet, Tom, who has ostensibly called in to check on the cat but really has his eye on Annie. Drunken escapades, temper tantrums and inappropriate liaisons ensue.
The play is presented “in the round”, which is an interesting pun on the title and could work in another venue, but at the OSO the term is somewhat misleading as the vast majority of the audience were situated “end on” as normal, with twelve lucky punters literally on the stage and this felt a little uncomfortable and very unbalanced. The play itself is of its time and the design and direction paid suitable homage to the classic TV sitcoms of that era. It would have been very easy to fall into the trap of trying to update the setting and thereby making the play appear dated. As a period piece it works well. Congratulations, therefore, to director Maurice Thorogood for having the courage of his convictions and a true belief in the writing. Congratulations to him, also for taking on the formidable task of covering for an indisposed actor and playing the part of Reg himself, book in hand. And playing it very well, too. The energy levels of the entire cast seemed to increase every time Reg made an appearance.
The characters in this, and every Ayckbourn play, are far more complex than they first appear, and they require actors to be thoughtful in producing a multi-layered performance. Despite holding that script Maurice Thorogood gave us the impression that beneath the blustering “hail fellow well met” lurked a much darker character and it came as no surprise that wife Sarah (Fiona Evans) was just a little tempted to stray. Jeremy Drakes as Tom was the quintessential sitcom underdog and played the role straight without trying too hard for laughs. The laughs came, as they always do when the writing is of this standard. A totally different approach was taken by Mike Duran as Norman, who played up the comedy so much that there were times it was quite irritating and, more importantly, made us question why any of the intelligent women he managed to seduce would have been interested. Why did the fragrant Ruth (nicely portrayed by Julia Haythorn) marry him in the first place, let alone stick with him when he was not only a cad and a bit of an idiot but also left her to pay the mortgage! As for poor Annie, she is the most difficult character of all to play; downtrodden carer with no self-confidence one minute and glamorous femme fatale taking no prisoners the next. Robin Miller was most effective in her scenes with Tom, where she appeared to have the upper hand; it would have been good to have seen some of that steel of character in the scenes with Norman, too.
Rare Fortunes provided a very enthusiastic audience with an entertaining evening and fought valiantly against the handicap of losing a leading actor at short notice. And for two short hours they transported me back to the orange wallpaper and brown carpets of my 1970’s youth.
Eleanor Marsh
February 2020
Photography courtesy of Rare Fortune Productions
Bonded in Grief
The Revlon Girl
by Neil Anthony Docking
Teddington Theatre Club at Hampton Hill Theatre, until 29th February
Review by Melissa Syversen
On 21st October 1966, at 9.15 in the morning, 150 000 tonnes of mining slurry came down from the mountain and crashed into Pantglas Junior School and the surrounding buildings. 144 people lost their lives. The Aberfan disaster is still well known in Britain. Recently the incident was depicted on an episode of the Netflix series The Crown renewing awareness of the tragedy amongst a younger and larger international audience. The disaster remains a stark reminder of the importance of health and safety regulations and the dangers of putting profit above human beings. Aberfan wasn’t the first tragedy caused by corporate ineptitude, greed and systemic negligence and unfortunately has not been the last. It is important to continue to tell these stories through media such as The Crown and The Revlon Girl, and to hold those responsible to account so that we can minimize the chance of future disasters.
The effects that that terrible day had in the Aberfan and the surrounding areas cannot be understated. It effectively robbed a close-knitted community of an entire generation. Of the 144 killed that day, 116 were children aged three to fourteen years. How does anyone manage to go on after trauma of that magnitude? In the months following the tragedy, a group of bereaved mothers organised to meet once a week, to talk, grieve and support each other in a private environment, away from prying eyes, the media and dare I say it, tourists. The Revlon Girl imagines one of these meetings eight months after the event. Inspired by a true story, the title refers to a Revlon representative whom the women secretly invite to one of their meetings to give them some beauty tips. Through this narrative lens, Welsh playwright Neil Anthony Docking has found a beautiful opportunity to not only tell the story of the Aberfan disaster, and the immediate aftermath but also the long term effects of trauma and grief.
In a room above a pub, with a leaking skylight, we meet four of the mothers who have lost one or several of their children. There is the good-natured Sian (Lara Parker), the brash Rona (Hannah Lobley), the vicar’s wife Jean (Jenna Powell) and the quiet Marilyn (Julie Thomas). They have all suffered great losses, and each carries their pain in a different way, be it through faith, mediums or indignant rage. Though they are still struggling to cope, that doesn’t mean that there aren’t moments of normality, of laughter and even of cruelty between the women. Having grown up together, they know exactly what buttons to push when they want to hurt, they bicker and fight viciously. But within that, there is also aching vulnerability and affection towards another that only comes from lifelong friendships. And most importantly, they are there for each other, week after week. Having volunteered for the assignment, Charlotte, the titular Revlon Girl (Rachel Burnham) does her best to navigate in this dynamic. Akin to a deer trapped in headlights, she is acutely aware of what these women have been through, and genuinely wants to help in whatever way she can.
It is clear that the cast and crew of The Revlon Girl care deeply about the material at hand and they treat it with great respect and sensitivity. Rising to the challenge of the Welsh accent, the performers are all on pointe and portray these women with empathy and heart, but also do justice to the humour and anger present in the text. What the writing, the cast and director Kelly Wood are so successful at capturing in The Revlon Girl is the everyday, almost humdrum quality of grief. Yes, there is pain and anger, but there is also laughter and comfort. These women have lost, and yet they carry on as best they can. The Revlon Girl is a moving, heartfelt piece of theatre and I’ll admit I shed a tear more than once.
Melissa Syversen
February 2020
Photography by Jojo Leppink, Handwritten Photography
A Message from Midsummer
Dream
by Katie Abbott, based on William Shakespeare
RSS Young Actors’ Company at the Mary Wallace Theatre, Twickenham until 23rd February
Review by Milly Stephens, one of our younger reviewers (aged 14)
Dream is performed by an outstanding cast of twenty-three talented young actors from Richmond Shakespeare Society’s (RSS) Young Actors Company. Dream is an adapted version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, directed and reworked with an environmental message by Katie Abbott.
The set design by Jo Moles was very innovative with four green hammocks, giving lots of levels to the stage, where the on-looking fairies could perch. This made the audience feel more included in the play as you almost felt like you were one of the fairies watching over the world. I also thought that the costumes and makeup by Miriam King and Izzy Timpson were very creative and made the show feel even more magical and mysterious. I also was impressed by the lighting and sound designed by Paul Nicholson and John Pyle as it gave the effect of a mystical forest and was used to reflect the intention of the script very efficiently.
The young actors all had very strong performances and engaged the audience very well. I would like to give a special mention to Jake Neill-Knight, who played Oberon, as he could always capture the audiences’ attention with his presence, and was very engaging to watch as he was a very convincing Oberon. I also 
thought that Krishnan Miller-Pullen did an outstanding performance as Theseus, and even though he had a minor speaking role, he sung five beautiful and angelic solos with his guitar and he was always invested in his role, which is what I think makes a great actor. Nicole Kasumu and Charlie Lacey-Harrison added loads of emotion i
nto the play. Nicole, as First Fairy managed to leave the audience feeling moved and motivated to change the way we live, after everything she said. Also, on the other hand Charlie, as Quince, added humour into the scenes, especially when Bottom, Kieran Judd, annoyed him. I think that they both added a good balance to the show as it had a moral message, but wasn’t too down hearted.
Overall, it was an excellent show and I would highly recommend it to anyone who would like to have a light-hearted evening with an environment slant.
Milly Stephens
February 2020
Photography by Tom Shore
Other-Worldly Visual Delight
Dream
by Katie Abbott, based on William Shakespeare
RSS Young Actors’ Company at the Mary Wallace Theatre, Twickenham until 23rd February
Review by Eleanor Marsh
There have been many adaptations and interpretations of most of Shakespeare’s plays. I have seen A Midsummer Night’s Dream set in World War II, in a travelling fairground (think My Big Fat Gypsy Dream) and more times than I can count in a more traditional setting. The BBC’s Shakespeare Retold series took us to a holiday resort where Lennie James and Sharon Small battled it out as Oberon and Titania – fairies living in the surrounding woods – and Johnny Vegas played Bottom the security guard hoping to make it onto the entertainments staff. I remember watching the entire Shakespeare Retold series and finding this particular episode the least convincing. Despite the all-star cast and the fact that it is possibly Shakespeare’s most accessible play, trying to update the plot itself, rather than playing with settings of time and place, just did not work. The crossover of “real” and “fairy” worlds in the 21st century was taking suspension of disbelief a little too far. I felt a similar problem at the Mary Wallace Theatre this week.
Dream is a mix of Shakespearean dialogue, modern dialogue (including some expletives that did not sit quite right in context, but must have been a treat for the performers to play with!) and music that attempts to weave the plotline into a climate change themed morality tale. It is an ambitious, big ask that on paper works beautifully. It is also evident that the entire cast are passionate about what they are doing and the message they are conveying. However, a mix of poor diction and voice projection, and a lot of the dialogue being directed upstage made it very difficult to follow the storyline. This audibility problem was compounded by an extremely loud musical underscore to much of the dialogue, which totally drowned out the young voices. Only the mechanicals managed to avoid this fate as they were fortunate to be performing their “play” downstage, facing the audience and with no musical accompaniment. They were very funny.
The design element of this production was excellent – it is a visual delight of both wardrobe and set design that immediately gives the impression that the audience are going to experience something other-worldly. Video projections are used throughout the piece and are very clever but a little distracting at times, although effective at others. My preference would have been for more burning planet and less Greta Thunberg, although in the context of switching a lot of the focus of the play to Shakespeare’s Changeling Child it did make sense to feature her. Despite the soundtrack being overly loud the use of music is excellent and it was particularly good to see under twenty year olds giving their all to songs by David Bowie and Elvis Presley, which were well chosen and quite poignant.
As well as directing the play, Katie Abbott is also responsible for choreography, which includes working on aerial silks. This is such a difficult thing to do that it deserves special mention; several of the cast spent time in and on the “hammocks” and made it look so easy –impressive indeed!
Dream is a nicely constructed ensemble piece with each person on stage being given a moment in the spotlight and every one of them giving their all. And it was good to see that RSS have given so much practical support to the youth group, which is their future. The performances were uniformly of good quality visually. Congratulations to all concerned on such a stunning looking production. I just wish I could have heard more of it!
Eleanor Marsh
February 2020
Photography by Tom Shore
Circus Pentameters
Sky in the Pie
by The Feathers of Daedalus, based on poems by Roger McGough
The Feathers of Daedalus at OSO Arts Centre, Barnes until 22nd February
Review by Heather Moulson
Seated in an open set of sophisticated hangings of moons and stars, plus atmospheric lighting and a dry ice effect, this clever children’s production gets off to a promising start.
The Feathers of Daedalus is a flexible and skilled circus company consisting of young performers. Four men and two women interpret Roger McGough’s children’s collection, Pie in the Sky, plus later works, with elegance and insight, accompanied by keyboard and drums.
A fairly simple plot beginning with a young girl reluctant to get out of bed for the day ahead; then, amidst a backdrop of juggling stools, the company prepares for a typical school day.
What makes this production such a joy are the entertaining actions and witty poetic lines spoken by the pupils as they struggle with self-doubt.
The use of the props by performers is very slick, and we are treated to a headmaster with a cushion for a head, signifying an inability to observe what is going on in his school. On an autobiographical note, Roger was the ‘star’ pupil, entrusted to look after Raymond, a sickly new boy. However, Roger finds himself joining in the taunting of this troubled boy, who does not return to school.
The remorse Roger feels afterwards, perhaps strikes a chord of shame in all of us. Haven’t we as children all behaved in that brutal way?
Besides taking text from Sky in the Pie, there are also readings from Mr McGough’s other collection, Poetry Pie. In the improvised classroom, the question of should poetry rhyme stirred an interesting reaction from the young (and not so young) audience.
In this sequence we are treated to a unicycle performer with a bugle, while at the same time the subject of crotchets and keyboards is raised. Further skilful juggling follows during the reading of other poems, namely The Sound Collector, The Lollipop Man, and Tofu Eating Tiger, poems full of wit.
Then a succession of quick witted poems follows sung at a memorable pace, Does a Babysitter Really Sit on Little Tots, Wouldn’t It Be Funny If You Didn’t Have a Nose (put over in an hilarious sequence), Here Come The Dinner Ladies, and then lastly the title poem of this slick production, Sky in the Pie.
The climax of the show is The Midnight Skaters, which creates the impression of knives and forks coming alive. This involves a cast member practising an amazing balancing sequence on a golden circle, representing a beautiful plate.
The wonderful poem I Wanted a Puppy is followed by The Girl Who Became A Book, accompanied by a number of authentic props that adds to the magic of this company’s presentation.
The time sequence goes from morning to night. While we follow our heroine to bed, we have talking pillows accompanied by some edgy acrobatics, and a misunderstood scarecrow.
The poem, Tomorrow Has Your Name on It, received a great reception and ovation for the performers, with a nod to the sound and lighting operator. Then applause for the creative director sitting in the audience, who plans to tour this highly imaginative and carefully crafted show.
We were united in hoping it will be shared and loved by children nationwide.
Heather Moulson
February 2020
Photography courtesy of The Feathers of Daedalus Circus
A Shot of Spirits
Blithe Spirit
by Noël Coward
Theatre Royal Bath at Richmond Theatre until 22nd February, then on tour until 11th April
Review by Melissa Syversen
The first thing that strikes you as the curtain rises on Theatre Royal Bath’s production of Noël Cowards classic Blithe Spirit is the sumptuous set designed by Anthony Ward. It is clear that this is not your standard touring production, where allowances have been made for easy transport. A hat must be tipped to the stage crew who do the weekly get ins and get outs as the production moves around the country.
A favourite of the stage, Blithe Spirit has been produced multiple times in the West End and on Broadway since its premiere and attracts some of the best loved performers such as Margaret Rutherford, Angela Lansbury and Joanna Lumley. And though it is almost eighty years old, Cowards play remains a refreshingly flippant comedy about death, loss and the supernatural. Written at the height of the Second World War and The Blitz, you can appreciate how 1941 audiences must have relished in the dark humour and elements of the spiritualist movement still fresh in their minds during a time when death must have felt much more immediate.
The plot of the play is deceptively simple: Charles Condomine, wishing to gain some insight into the work of mediums for his new book, arrange a séance with the unconventional medium Madame Arcati. After a seemingly unsuccessful evening, Charles and his second wife Ruth discover that Madame Arcati have accidentally summoned and manifested Elvira, Charles deceased first wife. Thus, as with any classic Noël Coward comedy, chaos and wit ensues. Geoffrey Streatfield is satisfactory as Charles Condomine, but doesn’t quite manage the fine line delivery as he did with his turn in Congreve’s 
The Way of the World at The Donmar Warehouse last year. Lisa Dillon, as Charles second wife Ruth, is much more successful finding the comic nuance within the given circumstances, jumping from vulnerability to perfectly executed domestic antagonism when faced with the glamorous ghost of her husband’s first wife.
Jennifer Saunders though, a certified living comedy legend in her own right, was made to pla
y the psychic Madame Arcati. In Saunders’ capable hands, Madame Arcati is a surprisingly homely and earthy woman, played as well intentioned village eccentric, who is serious about carrying on the family business. That said, I think everyone in the audience at Richmond Theatre yesterday would agree that the show well and truly belonged to Rose Wardlaw as Edith, a twitchy parlour maid with unexpected gifts. Rare is the gift to make an audience laugh by just walking passed an open door, but Wardlaw has it in spades.
There is nothing especially wrong with director Richard Eyre’s take on Blithe Spirit , but it never quite reaches the comic heights and belly laughs of say, the Old Vic production of Present Laughter last year. That said, it is game and a sturdy take on a classic, made all the more enjoyable thanks to Saunders and Wardlaw’s excellent comic turns.
Melissa Syversen
February 2020
Photography by Nobby Clark
Provocative Physical Experience of Music
Luisa Miller
by Giuseppe Verdi, libretto by Salvadore Cammarano
English National Opera at the London Coliseum until 6th March
Review by Suzanne Frost
With the ambition of showing more new productions than ever before, ENO has invited Czech director Barbora Horáková, winner of the Newcomer Award at the International Opera Awards 2018, to interpret Luisa Miller, one of the lesser known of the twenty-six operatic work by Giuseppe Verdi, the “daddy of opera”, as he is introduced in the programme notes. A huge shout out to ENO’s editorial team for producing fantastic texts and truly delivering on the promise of making opera accessible to everyone. My ten minutes studying the programme were possibly my favourite bit all night.
Horáková’s Luisa is a highly sophisticated bit of Regietheater and went down a storm in Wuppertal last year – but in the UK, things are just not quite so, and audiences are often rather resistant to a directorial concept. Usually I am all up for productions that are more “out there” but in this case I tend to disagree. Horáková’s opera as psychological study is clinically precise, yet oddly lacking in drama. It looks slick and sophisticated in its white cube and neon lights aesthetic but leaves me feeling very little.
For Verdi, adapting Schiller’s drama Kabale und Liebe (Intrigue and Love) marked a change from epic stories towards the domestic, the power structures within the family. Horáková sharpens the focus even more and zooms in solely on fathers. Terrible fathers. Miller, a retired soldier loves his only child Luisa obsessively. Mostly though, he loves the idea of Luisa as a child. Constantly looking through a handful of Polaroids of his baby girl, the stage is swarmed by a bunch of creepy clowns and balloons as for a kid’s birthday party, while the grown-up Luisa (Elizabeth Llewellyn) is carried in like a corpse in a funeral procession – the fact she has become a woman is apparently already a loss to this father. The fact that she is in love with another man is unbearable to him and so he jumps at the chance to ruin her blossoming relationship with childhood sweetheart Rodolfo.
Rodolfo’s own father Count Walter is a villain of an altogether different calibre. When we meet him, dressed like an oil tycoon, foot nonchalantly placed on a barrel, he seems to get a delivery of a twitching naked human being in a plastic bag. The abuse he then lays on this helpless boy is harrowing to watch, though it involves nothing more than black gloopy paint. And once that can of paint has been opened there is literally no stopping it! Absolutely everything and everyone gets smirched in the stuff. As symbolism goes it is fairly simplistic. The sweet and silly white clowns are being infiltrated by some bad clowns in black, a well-used group of dancers (choreography James Rosental) that have a mild S&M – naughty-sexual-awakening vibe about them. All the clowns are pretty creepy and maybe that’s the first thing we tend to always get wrong about children and childhood: it is not all sugar and spice and glorifying it and holding on to it past its sell by date is never healthy.
The aptly named Wurm, the plotting scheming super villain, is lurking in the corner like a black spider casually smoking Marlboros waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He is literally the personification of sin. He is also hot as hell, thanks to Salomon Howard’s six-foot something presence and sleazy raised eyebrows. An interesting twist to have the unpleasant Wurm look so fine in his shiny boots. What a horrible personality he must have that he has to resort to intrigue and blackmail to get the girl…
Rodolfo may be the one who made Luisa fall in love, but he is also far from the cute little kid we saw in the overture. His father is obviously a sadist who keeps little boys in plastic bags, enjoys slicing cuts into his prisoner Miller, encourages the fiancée of choice, the countess Federica, to shoot arrows into the heart of an upside-down crucified straw puppet and takes bets on his son proving his masculinity in the boxing ring. But Rodolfo has the capacity to be just as manipulative, dramatic, impulsive and cruel. Yes, he is damaged, but he is also damaging. Full of mistrust and self-pity, he immediately jumps to the conclusion that Luisa must be a “treacherous harlot” who deceived him. “You must show compassion” he demands of the woman he just wilfully poisoned, the very personification of the jealous stalker ex, and goes on to curse absolutely everyone but himself.
Luisa, literally driven mad by the demands of men, sings some fabulous coloratura with a blank face shocked by trauma in a nice Ophelia-like mad scene. Watching her die, her father bemoans “you were supposed to be my comfort as I grow old”. Wow. It is quite tricky to root for anyone in this production and very hard to care as well. Funny enough it is the silly old Miller who for all his flaws at least provokes some pity. Olafur Sigurdarson makes his character seems the most human, not just a vignette of good-bad or white-black. I found all the paint splotching a bit heavy on the symbolism. However, the bare staging and lack of colour allow for the music and the voices to take centre stage and the daddy of opera really knows how to let a choir have maximum impact. When they are allowed, the singers’ combined voices literally push like an invisible weight right against the chest and as we sit there in our little velvet chairs in the dark it’s a completely physical experience of music. And boy, does he know how to write a melody. My seat neighbour, a giant of a man, was swaying his head to the overture obviously knowing every single note. While obviously a fan of the music, he later nodded off – all the highly dramatic developments on stage somehow didn’t cross this time.
Suzanne Frost
February 2020
Mark Aspen 