Noises Off – February 2012

10/10

By Michael Frayn

Directed by Lindsay Posner

Venue: Old Vic Theatre

Date: Wednesday 1st February 2012

I’m having a bit of difficulty rating this performance. We saw the first production of this play back in 1982 at the Savoy theatre, and it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen on stage. I was laughing all the way home and into next week – I hurt from laughing. It would be unfair to expect this production to reach those heights especially as it didn’t have the advantage of surprise, but if I give it 9/10 it would be unfair. So I guess I’ll just have to rate the first production as 11/10, and leave it at that.

This cast were just wonderful in recreating these roles, and the script was just as funny as before. I particularly liked Robert Glenister as the director, Lloyd Dallas, who gets some of the funniest lines, but everyone was very good and there were no weak links. The set has to be the same, of course, this being farce. There’s no point going into the details of the story; I will just mention that reading the play text added to my enjoyment, as there are some very funny descriptions of the characters.

The Heart Of Robin Hood – January 2012

Jan5

10/10

By David Farr

Directed by Gisli Örn Gardarsson

Venue: RST

Date: Wednesday 4th January 2012

This was a fantastic Christmas show for kids of all ages! Written by David Farr, the story was based on the Yorkshire version of Robin Hood, back before he became a good-looking defender of the poor in revealing tights. Admittedly this Robin was also good looking, but his leather trousers weren’t as revealing as tights, and at the start of the story he’s not remotely interested in giving anything to the poor at all. It’s only through the intervention of Marion, or Martin of Sherwood as she became, that his heart began to open and he turned into the hero we’ve been led to expect in recent years. There was a post-show chat (naturally) and I’ve included some of the comments from that in my description below.

David Farr brought in a creative team from Iceland to help him realise his ideas on the main Stratford stage. This was an excellent choice. Börkur Jonsson designed an amazing set which really contributed to the physicality and magic of the performance. At the back was a steeply sloping wall of artificial grass, which came down in the region of the old proscenium arch. It had several sections within it which could be lowered to form platforms which represented various bits of the castle, and there were also holes through which several heads appeared for the cathedral scene – more on that story later. Above the stage hung the branches of a mighty oak; mighty scary to sit in, apparently, especially when the artificial snow made the branches wet! But these actors are tougher than they look, except for the excellent actor, also Icelandic, who played Pierre, the clown character. They had planned to set the opening scene actually in the branches, but apart from realising that the actors were hard to see up there, Ólafur Darri Ólafsson (Darri) has a greater affinity for solid ground, and as he opens the play, that was that as far as Pierre was concerned.

The rest of the stage, the walkways and even the steps up to the stage in front, were all covered in artificial grass. There was a pond to the right of centre stage, with a few tufts of grass masking it from our view. The water tank wasn’t that deep, we were told later, but although the water was warm at the start, it got very cold by the end, so poor Alice, who spends lots of time in there in the final scene, ended up shivering and wanting the rest of the cast to hurry up and finish. The surface of the stage was all lumpy – god knows how there weren’t more accidents, although they did say there had been a few during the run. (The main problem seemed to be friction burns when they were learning how to slide down the grassy slope in the first few weeks.) Apart from all of this, there were at least a couple of trapdoors, one to the left of the stage, and another in the front right corner – they’re making good use of the excellent resources they have in their new theatre – and lots of ropes everywhere for vertical entrances and exits.

The performance style was really interesting. It’s a darker piece than I expected for a family show, but they kept it light through massive amounts of humour all the way through. Of course the kids loved the yucky bits, such as a tongue being cut out and waved around a lot, and given the nature of children’s stories through the ages, this wasn’t going to give them any nightmares. But there were also bits for us ‘grown-ups’ to enjoy, such as the reference to Jaws – a shark’s fin crossing the pond while the music played – and even a reference to Malvolio in Twelfth Night when Prince John is being taken away at the end and says “I’ll have my revenge on every one of you”. But mostly the humour crossed the age boundaries and gave us all a lot of fun. One of my favourite scenes was the puppetry session, with the recently deceased Guy of Gisborne (Tim Treloar) being manipulated by Little John to have a silent (on his part) conversation with Prince John. It was a masterpiece of movement, with a final rude gesture to the departing Prince causing a lot of laughter.

The play opened with Pierre introducing himself to us, and framing the story as an explanation of how he, a posh servant with fancy clothes and meringue-styled hair, had come to be a country lover with simple tastes. Pierre is the servant of Marion, daughter of the Duke of York who is away in the Holy Land, helping King Richard on crusade. She’s just received a letter from her father which says he’s going to be another year at least, and with her guardian wanting to marry her off, and Prince John due to visit the castle, she decides to head off into the forest and seek out Robin Hood. She may be a sensible sort of tomboy, but she still has romantic notions about the man, thinking he’s a noble outlaw who steals from the rich to give to the poor. We’ve already seen him stealing from a couple of rich folk, the very folk who bring Marion the letter from her father, and Robin showed no sign of helping anyone but himself. When Marion finds him, she realises the mistake she’s made, and leaves the forest temporarily. However, when she nears the castle, her sister finds her and delivers the news that Prince John has arrived and wants to see Marion straightaway. Knowing that he intends to make her his bride, she dons a disguise and returns to the forest as Martin of Sherwood, determined to be the noble outlaw she believed Robin Hood to be, by stealing from the rich to help the poor.

Thwarted in his ambition to meet his future bride, Prince John isn’t too pleased. He’s in the area for more than his wedding, though – his men are out collecting the Holy Contribution, which the Prince says is to help his brother in the Holy Land. Not all the locals are happy with this extra tax burden, and one man, Robert Summers, is actively speaking out against it. To make an example, he and his two children are arrested; after he is hanged, his son is made to proclaim his own father a bad person, and not only support the Holy Contribution, but even express his devotion to Prince John himself. Of course, young Jethro Summers only does it to save his sister, Sarah, but their future is anything but secure.

Meanwhile, back in the forest, and after a few weeks of Martin’s new rob-the-rich-feed-the-poor regime, Robin and his men are finding it hard to rob anyone, as all the carriages passing through the forest have already been picked clean. This is an affront to their territorial rights as outlaws, so they disguise themselves as rich travellers to smoke out their competitor. When Martin (with Pierre, who’s now called Peter) tries to rob them, they reveal themselves, and Martin realises she’s taken on more than she can handle. When Robin and his men insist that Martin and Peter strip naked so they can steal their clothes, Martin is terrified that she’ll be discovered, and makes a rash gamble. She bets her clothes that she can beat one of them in a fight, and loses. Despite this, she’s still determined not to give herself away, so she proposes another bet, with the stake this time being her life. Robin accepts, and after an even harder struggle, she’s beaten again. Before he can execute her, though, a peasant woman arrives, asking for her help to rescue the two Summers children who are being held in the castle.

For the first time, with two children’s lives at risk, even Robin’s men are keen to help somebody other than themselves. Robin just wants to get on with the execution, but the pleas from all and sundry make him rethink, especially when Martin claims to know a way to get into the castle. When Jethro had made his false proclamation to save his sister, the executioner who had been summoned to convey the explicit threat, is ordered away again. Only it isn’t the real executioner, it’s Robin Hood, and his men are with him. After a big fight, they rescue the children and escape back to the forest, leaving Prince John fuming.

There was a short scene which in the text was meant to be the Duke of York, Marion’s father, speaking a message to Marion to tell her that Prince John is planning an uprising, and that he’s on his way to prevent it. He tells her to do all she can to delay things until he gets there. In performance, it was done by her guardian, Makepeace, reading the letter that’s arrived for her, and naturally being disturbed by the news. Rather rashly, he confronts John in a later scene, and this leads to his tongue being cut out by Gisborne, Prince John’s right hand psychopath, and as nasty a piece of work as the Prince himself, if not nastier.

In the forest, however, Martin ends up chatting to Robin about his no women in the forest policy. She discovers that he did meet a woman, once, who was different to all the rest, and it’s clear he means Marion herself. Unfortunately, she’s in no position to reveal herself to him, but she does a short while later, to the dog, Plug. She doesn’t realise that Sarah has been listening until she turns around and sees her standing there. Sarah hasn’t spoken since her father’s death though, so her secret’s pretty safe, for now.

Gisborne, on John’s orders, has inflamed the locals to hunt down and kill the demonically possessed children. At the same time Alice, the Duke of York’s other daughter, is out in the forest looking for her sister when she’s surprised by the outlaw band. Marion, still disguised as Martin, gets into an argument with her and the others let her get on with it, but it soon turns out they’re all in deep trouble. The townsfolk have them surrounded, and are coming for the children. Marion realises her only chance of saving them is to return to the castle as herself and persuade Prince John to spare their lives; she doesn’t actually spell it out, but we can see what she’s planning.

Back at the castle, she discovers that Makepeace has lost his tongue, and he helps her to get changed into a posh frock. Prince John is delighted to see her; although he’s not keen on women having a say in any important matter, he is swayed by her request for the children’s lives to be spared as a gift to his new bride. Despite her revulsion, she goes along with the Prince’s wishes, even though he’s already set their wedding date for Christmas day, only three days away! In the forest, with the children captured, Gisborne comes to the rescue just in time with the order from Prince John. Apparently the demons in the children can be removed by a spot of holy water shaken onto them, which Gisborne does, reciting some Latin as he does so. The “expelliamus” which this line started with was an entertaining reference to Harry Potter. Gisborne’s expression was less than delighted – murdering children isn’t just another job for him, it’s a real vocation – but he lets Robin take the children with him, as he has no orders to prevent it.

With only three days to go till the wedding, there’s a lot to do. Most importantly, Marion has to be shriven so that she can be pure on her wedding day. For this reason, she has to visit the Cathedral and meet with the Bishop. In the forest, Robin and his men are getting very worried about Martin – there’s been no sign of him since he left on his secret mission to stop the children being killed. When Much brings the news of the impending marriage between Prince John and Marion, both Pierre and Robin are appalled, though they try to cover up their concern. To help Marion, Pierre suggests they try to rescue Martin, and Robin actually agrees immediately. Pierre is left behind to take care of the children, and the others head off to the castle.

In the Cathedral, the Bishop’s face is peeking through the central hole in the ramp, with one hand sticking out of each side hole, several feet away! He’s hearing confessions, and the first three who come in are obviously Much, Will and Little John. Robin is next, and his confession is for a sin he’s about to do, i.e. replace the Bishop so he can talk with Marion. Once he’s done this, it’s his face peering through the central hole in the back wall, with two hands appearing at the side holes. His men don wimples and look out through two other holes which appeared higher up and to each side, and when Little John joins in, his hole is below Robin’s. (Do behave.)

Marion’s ‘confession’ was more a chat about Martin, and how Robin could get him out of the castle. They arranged something – didn’t catch all the details – and then Prince John returned to take her away. In the meantime, Gisborne has attempted to capture the children, and although he hasn’t managed that, Pierre has lost them as well, and is in despair. The children are wandering through the forest, and come across the Green Man, who descends on a rope and gives them three wishes. The first was for food, which they’d already eaten. The second was to see their father; their father appeared again and walked over to the front of the stage where a woman was doing some rope work. I realised it was their mother before the Green Man identified her. Jethro’s third wish was for Sarah to speak again – not in the Green Man’s power to grant.

When Robin returned to the forest, he discovered Pierre on his own, and realised that he hadn’t taken enough care of the children. Gisborne also turns up and Robin kills him, which gives him the idea for how to get into the castle. They turn up at the castle gates, with Robin apparently killed and hanging upside down, while Much and Will are off to one side, apparently tied up. This was where Gisborne did his puppet routine, and very funny it was too. Of course, Marion is very upset because she believes what she sees, but when she approaches the ‘corpse’ she learns the truth.

It’s looking good for her escape now, as all she has to do is a quick change into Martin’s clothes and be off with Robin. But unfortunately Alice turns up and spoils the whole thing, calling for the guards. With Robin recaptured, properly this time, Martin goes to fetch Marion, who does her best to save Robin. John isn’t feeling so friendly this time, though, and actually slaps her for suggesting he spare Robin’s life. Nasty.

Fortunately, Pierre has managed a bit of robbery on his own. He steals Lord something-or-other’s identity, and by pretending to be on John’s side, gets the guard in charge of the prisoners to give him his gun and then the keys, enabling him to free Robin and his men. During the wedding, when the bishop asks if anyone knows of any reason, etc., Sarah finally speaks again, and tells everyone that Marion is actually in love with another man. John is busy trying to get back to the wedding ceremnoy, but when he calls in the soldiers to take the girl away, who should they be but Robin, Much and Will! Big fight, a very big fight. Alice ends up in the pond (described as the font in the text), and Robin, Marion and the others defeat the Prince of Evil just before the Duke of York turns up to arrest him. Despite Robin’s complete lack of social status, the Duke bows to the inevitable (he clearly knows his daughter well) and accepts Robin as his future son-in-law. Given their history, the only place for the wedding is in the forest, so they all head off there. At the very end, Alice suddenly sticks her head up out of the pond, clambers out, and realising we’re all looking at her, smoothes back her hair and starts to preen herself on the way out, no easy task as she’s dripping wet and only has one shoe on. A very funny ending.

That’s just the basics of the story, an amazing amount to cram in, but they did it so well and so fast that we took it all in and the time just flew by. There was a lot of humour in the performance, and a lot of music, with many of the cast playing instruments as well as acting, throwing themselves down the ramp, etc, occasionally at the same time! The animals were particularly good, with an actor and a musical instrument combining to represent the various creatures. For example, there was a white duck which was one of the actresses done up in a white tutu affair and playing a clarinet(?) waddling across the stage. She was very flexible – squatting and walking at the same time isn’t easy. This was during a scene with Prince John talking to either Makepeace or Gisborne. The Prince tried to shoot the duck, but it ducked out of sight down one of the trapdoors each time, so he missed. The other character kept handing the Prince another loaded gun, so he had several goes, but we were glad the duck got the better of him and survived. Actually, Steve thought the white bird was a swan (we were in Stratford, after all) while I thought it was a goose. We were able to get the correct identification afterwards.

There was also a boar which attacked the children in the forest; this was an actor with a cello, and after they killed the boar – a brave act by young Jethro – they kept the cello while the actor slipped off stage, and roasted it over a fire. All of this was very evocative, but the best of all was the performance of Plug the dog (Peter Bray). Similar to Crab in The Two Gentlemen Of Verona during the RSC Complete Works Festival, Jethro’s dog was played by an actor, who used a woodwind instrument (possibly an oboe?) to make the dog noises. He was great fun, cocking his leg at the audience, and generally being a regular dog. Of course he snarled at the baddies and bit Gisborne, and we all loved him enormously.

There were too many good bits to record them all, but I’ll just mention a few extra funny moments. There was the wonderful way Pierre said “We!” when Marion was talking about how “we” could go to the forest, etc. It was a lovely performance all the way through by Darri, and I do hope they can cast him in something else in the future – he’d make a great Falstaff. And when Marion first met Robin in the forest, his men were all off stage, but Little John, played by a very short actor, Michael Walter, rose up through the trapdoor on the left as she was saying “you and your merry…”. She paused, looking at him, and then finished the line with “man”. Very funny. When Marion first appears as Martin, she’s spotted by Prince John, who chats to her for a bit. She ends up with a limp, thanks to a contribution from Pierre, and the Prince ends up believing her attitudes towards women are entirely in tune with his own. He’s almost overcome at one point – it’s so rare for him to find anyone who understands his point of view. Apparently David Farr allowed the actors free rein to embellish the characters themselves, and Martin Hutson, as Prince John, certainly brought out the Prince’s inner psychopath very clearly. Alice (Flora Montgomery) was also very funny, being completely obsessed with appearance and social status. She’d have been more than happy to marry Prince John herself, but he did have some standards.

The rest of the cast all did a good job too, and the whole production was really entertaining. It didn’t matter that the fight scenes were a bit confusing, that I couldn’t make out all of the dialogue, nor that there was a lot of chatter from young voices to contend with; it was such good fun, and had so much energy all the way through, that I totally enjoyed myself. And from the enthusiastic questions from the youngsters afterwards at the post-show, so had they.

Steeleye Span – December 2011

Dec20

Martletss Hall, Burgess Hill 8/10

Sunday 18th December 2011

Lineup: Liam Genocky, Rick Kemp, Peter Knight, Julian Littman, Maddy Prior, Pete Zorn,

Two concerts in two nights! Life is good. Night one, in Burgess Hill, was excellent. It was a bit cold on stage apparently, and it took them a couple of numbers to fully warm up. Maddy wore a patterned print jacket, white blouse, black skirt for the first half, and a swirly blue skirt with shot silk jacket, blue and crimson, for the second half.

First half songs:

Seven Hundred Elves – not a bad start

Drink Down The Moon – fine

Now We Are Six (3 Riddles) – got them all

Thomas the Rhymer – the original is my favourite Steeleye, but this was good fun too. I thought the fiddle and flute weren’t differentiated enough, so those sections were a bit of a muddle, but it’s such a good song that it was great to hear it again.

Mooncoin Jig – excellent. Peter did the intro, and while mentioning the retail opportunity, he told us of a new type of guarantee – if you buy the new Gigspanner CD and don’t like it, send it back to him, and he’ll send you a CD he doesn’t like. Very fair.

Edwin – Rick was in fine singing voice, even if the introduction was up to his usual level of strangeness.

Long A-growing – very good version

Two Magicians – good fun

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star – excellent. Peter’s fiddle playing was clear and bright, and his solo absolutely magical, as always. A lovely updating.

To Know Him Is To Love Him – I never liked the original much; I know it’s just a bit of fun, but Maddy’s voice was just too little-girly for me. This was much better, and I actually enjoyed it. A lot. David Bowie’s stand-in on saxophone was the multi-talented Pete Zorn, of course.

Second half songs:

Today in Bethlehem – from Winter. This was their Christmas selection, all from the same album. I love this one.

Sing We The Virgin Mary – not a favourite, but the fiddle solo was lovely

Bright Morning Star – took a couple of verses to warm up, then a great sound

The Two Constant Lovers – fine

Edward – rocking!

Who Told The Butcher – good

Creeping Jane – also good

Cold, Haily, Windy Night – or ‘Eric’, as Rick likes to call it. (So that his three songs all begin with an ‘E’.) The intro was another lovely ramble through the magic land that is Rick’s mind. As well as trying to flog one of his guitars, he told us about the group getting way off key during the start of this song last night. He claimed that he was only telling us because he felt comfortable sharing with Burgess Hill; he wouldn’t mention it tomorrow night at the Barbican….. We shall see.

Bonny Black Hare – seriously rocking!

Encores: (no surprises here)

All Around My Hat – were we better than Margate? I think we should be told!

Gaudete – lovely

That’s it till tomorrow. Picked up the new CD plus some extra clothes, as usual.

Barbican Hall 10/10

Monday 19th December 2011

Night two – the Barbican. With special guests The Acoustic Strawbs, Martin Carthy and John Spiers. What would change from last night? Well, the sound was much better, and Steeleye were property warmed up from the start. They cut the intros to the bare minimum for the first half. Songs as for the previous night, Maddy’s outfit the same too, for both halves.

700 elves

Drink down the moon

3 Riddles

Thomas the Rhymer – better than last night

Mooncoin Jig – had to visit the loo, but could still hear most of it on the speakers.

Edwin

Long A-growing

Two Magicians

Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star – Maddy dedicated this to Dr Brian Cox, same as last night, and the fiddle solo was just as good, too

To Know Him Is To Love Him – even better, or maybe I’m getting used to it.

After this set, the compère, Kevin Donnelly, rambled on for a bit in a mildly entertaining way while the crew set up the stage for the Acoustic Strawbs. I don’t know the names of some of their songs, so I’ve identified them by any lines I could make out. Their set consisted of:

‘Bless the day’

‘I was blind but now I see’

Ghosts

‘May you rot/ may you rest’

Autumn

Lay Down – we were invited to join in

The King – with Maddy – a world premiere live performance!

The sound setup for them wasn’t great, which may account for my not enjoying their set very much. Dave Cousins did the ‘retail opportunity’ speech after the third or fourth song, and did it very entertainingly. Given the lack of Steeleye intros, he was able to use the ‘special guarantee’ joke – if you don’t like our CD, send it back….etc.

2nd half – Steeleye

Edward – still good

Two Constant Lovers – probably enjoyed it more than last night. Good fiddle solo; he’d been picking the strings during the verses, so when he unleashed the full sound with his bow, it was lovely. Peter repeated his story from last night about the East Sussex version of this song – it’s too short, cause the bloke pushes her over the cliff!

Bright morning star – apart from Gaudete, their only Christmas number

Then they were joined by Martin Carthy and John Spiers (accordion) for:

Padstow – we gave the final ‘wesus’ some welly

Bedlam Boys – good fun

The Lark In The Morning – lovely

Bryan O’Lynn/The Hag With The Money (jigs) – nice and lively

This section was a bit rougher round the edges, but then they wouldn’t have had a lot of rehearsal time. Martin and John then left, and the current lineup completed their set with the final two from last night:

Eric – that’s Cold, Haily, Windy Night to us. Rick did explain the alternative title, but true to his word, he didn’t mention the problems from the night before last!

Bonny Black Hare – still great. They’ve extended the live intro to give Rick a bass solo.

Encores:

All around my hat – with Martin, John and Dave Cousins from the Acoustic Strawbs joining in. We were good, but were we as good as last night? Or Margate?

Gaudete – even stronger with the extra support. Lovely finish.

A great evening, and Steve’s only question was, why didn’t we book for more? Good question.

Othello – October 2011

Oct4

10/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Daniel Evans

Venue: Crucible Theatre

Date: Monday 3rd October 2011

This was our maiden voyage as far as the Crucible is concerned. I found myself getting very excited – I love watching the snooker World Championships, and here I was, in the very building! I took a few minutes after we sat down to see where everything went for the snooker, so that I could put that to one side, and concentrate on the play.

The set was interesting, and effective. A large octagonal platform, sloping towards the front, occupied most of the space. There was a large eight-sided star design on it, suggesting the geometric patterns used in Islam, although it didn’t look particularly Islamic to me. The back wall was made of stone, with strategic gaps here and there. Two very tall wooden doors were placed in the middle, and there were mini arches along the top, along with some carving above the door. Some steps went nowhere on the left hand side – these were used as a platform for the herald, announcing the celebrations for Othello’s nuptials on Cyprus, and also supplied a sort of hiding place when required. Lights were lowered occasionally, and also the curtains for the wedding bed in the final act. Furniture was brought on and off as needed, and didn’t get in the way of the action. There were steps up to the platform all around the back of it. We sat to the left of the stage, and had an excellent view throughout – very little blocking, although we also saw a lot of backs through the performance.

The opening scene between Iago and Roderigo took a little while to get going for me. Dominic West had chosen a local accent for his Iago, and the unexpected sound took me by surprise. Silly really, given our location. Anyway I tuned in pretty quickly, and had very little difficulty later on. I still got the gist of the scene, and that was one of the great things about this production. They told the story really well, so that even when I didn’t catch all of the dialogue, I could see the characters’ emotions and thoughts clearly, as well as the connections of cause and effect which underpin this tragedy.

Roderigo was the same snivelling little brat we know and love so well from previous productions. Brabantio was weaker in this production than we’re used to, but he did well enough to keep the story going. I did like the way that Iago paused before the word ‘senator’ when replying to Brabantio’s insult ‘Thou art a villain’. As a general point, the exits and entrances didn’t exactly overlap as they do in some Shakespeare productions, but they were brisk, which helped to keep the running time down.

The next scene is our first sight of Othello, and Clarke Peters did a superb job with this part. In this scene he’s calm, reasoned and authoritative, stopping the fighting before anyone gets hurt. I did find myself wondering why Desdemona doesn’t appear at this point, although I accept her entrance has a better dramatic effect in the following scene, which starts with the Duke and two senators discussing the threat from the Turkish fleet. It’s always a bit absurd to have the various messages come so fast – the fleet must be travelling at a fair old clip to make such progress – but we’ll allow the artistic licence. This production made the political and military situation nice and clear, so the need for Othello’s services and the respect in which he’s held were well established by the end of this section.

When Desdemona enters she’s covered by a white veil. She removes it when asked to speak and gives it to Iago, who threw it aside. Roderigo must have retrieved it, as he’s clutching it later on. Now there’s always a dilemma when casting the young heroine parts in Shakespeare – do you go for a young, inexperienced actress who can easily represent youth, beauty, naivety, etc., or do you opt for a more experienced actress who can deliver the lines better, but whom the audience has to imagine to be a young girl? This dilemma was thrown into sharp relief for us earlier this year, when we heard Jane Lapotaire delivering a speech of Juliet’s at an event at the Birthplace Trust. No longer a young girl, she still had us believing every word of her speech, such was her ability to convey the thoughts and emotions in every line. The choice tonight was youth all the way, which may have engaged the younger audience members, but left us with a slightly weaker Desdemona than I would have liked to begin with. I warmed to her performance though, and she certainly made the age difference apparent.

When everyone else has left, Roderigo comes to centre stage, clutching the veil Desdemona has left behind, inhaling it to catch her scent, the poor fool. Iago has to work hard to talk him out of drowning himself, but of course he succeeds. His own plans are laid, and I felt his motivation was pretty clear tonight – he’s unhappy at his treatment by Othello, and only too ready to use the suspicion that Othello’s had his wife as justification for his wickedness. There were two significant things about this performance which made it stand out; one was Iago’s totally convincing acting when talking to Othello about Desdemona, and the other was his total presence, always listening intently to pick up extra clues that he can use to his own advantage. He noticed Desdemona’s line about Cassio ‘that came awooing with you’, and that triggered one of his questions to Othello later.

Back to the play: we’re now in Cyprus, and there’s a storm raging, which eventually disperses the Turkish fleet without harming any of the Venetian vessels – how fortunate. Yet again, they saw no need to drench everyone in real water to make the storm ‘real’, thank goodness. Desdemona’s banter with Iago seemed longer this time, and I understood more of it.

The action comes thick and fast now. I spotted that the fateful handkerchief is in Othello’s hand when he and Desdemona head off to bed. Later, Emilia comments that it was Othello’s first gift to Desdemona after their marriage, which explains why Cassio didn’t recognise it. The drinking bout soon had Cassio incapable, and almost without his breeches as well, sitting in a trunk. After the quarrel with Roderigo, Cassio injured Montano, whose wound only bled on the napkin and left his shirt untouched – very helpful to the wardrobe department, I’m sure. Iago’s apparent slip in fingering Michael Cassio as the cause of the rumpus was very well done, and again he acted completely like a man who wanted to help his friend, while actually digging a deeper hole for him to fall into. When he fired Cassio, Othello took his sword and cut through the sash of office which he was wearing – Iago wears a similar sash later on.

We were then ‘treated’ to the music, arranged by Cassio, which Othello is keen to stop. It was an odd combination of a stringed instrument and two woodwind; the tune began with the strings, then one of the woodwind instruments joined in, then the other – the tune was inappropriate and very funny, and I could understand Othello’s preference for silence. There are several short conversations, and then Othello and Iago come on stage just as Cassio leaves. This extended scene is crucial to the play; it’s where Iago begins to plant the seeds of suspicion in Othello’s mind, and all Desdemona’s innocent behaviour begins to look deceitful.

A desk and a chair had been brought on towards the back of the stage, on the left side. Othello is dealing with paperwork, signing various documents, and Iago is folding them and tying them up with ribbon. Desdemona’s badgering of Othello is lively and successful, but once Iago gets going, the mood changes. From loving Desdemona completely, Othello becomes disturbed, then angry, and when Desdemona comes back to fetch him in to dinner, he’s seriously troubled. This is where Desdemona drops the handkerchief, not noticing it till too late. Emilia spots it, however, and actually stands over it to speak the first of her lines. She soon picks it up, and when Iago returns, she’s tucked it into her bodice. He gets it from her, after a little chasing round the stage, and then Othello returns, much disturbed by thoughts of jealousy.

This scene between the two men was very well done. I didn’t hear all of the lines, but the emotional charge was very powerful, and the way Iago was manipulating his victim was chillingly clear. He never let up for a moment. Even his plea to Othello to let Desdemona live was reminding Othello of his threat to ‘tear her all to pieces’. When Othello knelt to make his oath, cutting his hand to emphasise his commitment, Iago seized the opportunity to get even closer to the man he was working to destroy. He also knelt, and made an extravagant promise to serve Othello in his quest for revenge, and even though Othello had been constantly going on about how honest Iago was, this took their relationship to the next level. It was a gamble, but a successful one.

They took the interval after this scene, which was probably just as well, as we needed the break ourselves, never mind what the actors felt. The second half opened with some dramatic lighting, as I remember, but the next scene starts with the light-hearted banter among Desdemona, Emilia and the Clown. One of the things I’ve noticed going through the text to write these notes is how continuous the action is, with each scene depending on the preceding one, so there’s no real chance to change the scenes around. This came across very clearly in this production, with the flow of the story being very strong.

This scene continues with Othello’s request to see the handkerchief, and this is the first time that he’s been angry with Desdemona – it’s a shock to her, and to Emilia. I found myself thinking that all marriages go through their difficult phases; unfortunately, this difficult phase has been created by somebody else, which makes it impossible to resolve.

After Othello has left, Iago and Cassio enter, but Iago soon leaves to check on Othello, full of concern of course. When Desdemona and Emilia are just about to head off, I noticed another head peeping round the corner of the door at the back – it’s Bianca. She takes the handkerchief from Cassio and they leave, only for Iago and Othello to return. This is the scene where Othello’s emotions get so worked up that he collapses. I haven’t always bought into that bit, but this time Othello works himself up so much, fuelled by Iago’s promptings, that it seemed completely believable.

When Othello recovers, Iago sets up his biggest deception yet. With Othello ‘hiding’ by the stairs at the back, and then below the level of the platform, Iago easily gets Cassio to talk about Bianca. Othello is hugely affected by Cassio’s behaviour, especially when Bianca reappears and throws the handkerchief back at Cassio. After Iago and Othello have plotted the death of the two ‘lovers’, Lodovico turns up, and again we see Othello display even greater anger towards Desdemona, even hitting her. It’s a ghastly sight, and still the others are doing their best to make allowances for him.

When Othello questions Emilia, I did wonder why she doesn’t tell him about the handkerchief, given that she’s seen how upset Othello was about it, but of course Desdemona’s already lied about it, so she wouldn’t want to betray her. Later, when Iago is with the two women, I could see Emilia start to think when she talks about ‘some most villainous knave, some base notorious knave, some scurvy fellow’; knowing her husband as she does, and that he was deceived by someone about her, she began to look at him with a dawning realisation that the ‘scurvy knave’ may be very close to home. The women leave and Roderigo comes back, complaining yet again that Iago hasn’t delivered on his promises. He even throws Iago to the ground, causing Iago to show some pretend respect for the lad.

When Desdemona is preparing for bed, the eight-fold star outline on the stage is lit up beautifully. A couple of chests are brought on, and Emilia helps Desdemona out of her clothes, packing them away into one of the chests. When they leave, the light fades, and we’re back on the street with Iago and Roderigo, ready to attack Cassio. The scuffle was short and straightforward, leaving Roderigo dead. Then the bed itself is set up for the climactic scene, with the curtains dropping down from above. It became a little crowded by the end, for both Desdemona and Emilia were lying dead on it, side by side, and Othello managed to fit himself on as well, but at least it would have been comfortable enough by that time, for the two swords and a dagger which had been hidden in it had been removed. Quite the armoury, that bed.

The final scene was very moving. Throughout the play, I’d felt great sympathy for Othello. His suffering was plain to see once the jealous thoughts had taken hold, and it was clear that it was only Iago’s manipulation that put them there. His ‘recovery’ from the jealous pangs once Desdemona was dead led to even more suffering, as he realised what he’d done – not much consolation for her, of course, but still deserving of compassion.

We weren’t the only ones who’d enjoyed ourselves; they received a well-earned standing ovation at the end, and I leapt to my feet as well to join in. I noticed a look between Clarke Peters and Dominic West as they left the stage for the second time – what the hell, they might as well enjoy it, so they came back for another round of bows. How we loved it!

The most amazing thing about this production was the energy; I felt drawn in like never before. I’ve often found large chunks of Othello boring – not so tonight. Even though I couldn’t make out all of the dialogue, I was totally absorbed, and felt exhilarated at the end. The two leads worked really well together, and Alexandra Gilbreath was a much stronger Emilia than usual; the only comparable performance I can remember was Amanda Harris at the RSC quite a few years ago now. With such a young Desdemona, the balance between these four characters was different, but still worked really well. I’m so glad we had such a great experience for our first visit here – we’ll be back.

Singin’ In The Rain – September 2011

Sep10

10/10

Screenplay and adaptation by Betty Comden and Adolph Green

Songs by Nacio Herb Brown and Arthur Freed

Directed by: Jonathan Church

Venue: Chichester Festival Theatre

Date: Thursday 8th September 2011

I found I was humming some of the music from this show during the day, which is a good sign. I reckon Gene Kelly had put me off this musical – I just don’t like the guy, sorry – but now I’ve seen it on stage, I’ve really taken to it. I was certainly looking forward to another splash fest tonight, and as it turned out, the show had come on so much that I can only reflect my experience by giving it full marks. I’ve added in some corrections to my earlier notes, so here I’ll concentrate on some extra details and any changes I noticed.

Some things that were in the earlier performance, but which I forgot to mention last time include the two young boys who act out Don and Cosmo’s early days, the gorilla and Robin Hood walking across the sound stage just before Make ‘Em Laugh then joining in the song later, and the way that Cosmo gets the idea to use Kathy’s voice instead of Lina’s was from the ‘Yes, yes, yes. No, no, no’ section of The Duelling Cavalier, where the sound had gone out of sync, giving the man Lina’s voice and Lina his. This section came after Good Morning, when the three leads are lying on the ground in front of the bench; they come up with the idea for the musical, sing the song, then realise they have to contend with the problem of Lina’s complete lack of vocal talent.

The technical side of things had also improved, as the water tank didn’t overfill before the first Singin’ In The Rain this time – no seepage – and I reckon there was less water in the basin than before. Adam Cooper focused much more in the dancing tonight which was great, although that didn’t stop him spreading the water far and wide in the process. One minor hiccup – the wind machine in You Were Made For Me didn’t work tonight, so the mist threatened to become a fog, blocking our view. I suspect they turned it off pronto because it soon cleared.

The biggest change overall was that the cast had grown into their performances tremendously. It was much tighter, the storyline was much clearer, and all the singing and dancing was just as fabulous as before. With a post-show discussion to follow, the audience was packed with many of the keenest Chichester Festival Theatre supporters, so we were a very friendly crowd and responded warmly throughout, applauding at the end of many of the scenes. I was particularly glad that we applauded Katherine Kingsley’s performance as Lina several times. It’s such an important part, and she did it magnificently, even better than the first time we saw it, which was only the second preview. Her singing of What’s Wrong With Me was clearer, and still dreadful without being so hard to listen to. The rest of the cast were brilliant too, and I only hope they can keep most of them together for any London run.

I loved every minute of tonight’s performance, and there was more! The post-show was held towards the back of the auditorium this time, as the crew needed to clean up the stage. In fact, they managed all that before we got started, but as we were settled they didn’t try to move us again. The choreographer Andrew Wright, the musical director Robert Scott and assistant director Luke Shepphard were on hand to get things started, and several of the cast joined us as well, once they’d dried off. They talked us through the original intensive creation period, and some of the problems they’d had with the flooring. It had to be able to handle all that water yet be suitable for dancing – a lot to ask – and they still don’t have an ideal solution. The control bits for the radio mikes were wrapped in plastic bags, apparently, and for the title song Don’s hat successfully keeps the mike dry.

We were surprised that Robert Scott hadn’t seen the film – everyone else had – but he does keep the music on his iPod, and listens to it constantly when he’s preparing a show. They’re hoping to transfer to London – no one would be specific about the venue – and there may be a cast recording – hooray! The cast’s stamina was commented on; they’ve got fitter with all the performances they do, but having the show in rep actually makes it more difficult for them, as they have to keep their stamina levels up during the off days. They seemed to be enjoying themselves a lot on stage, and they claimed to be a happy bunch of bunnies, with lots going on backstage to keep them entertained. Even the foyer area saw some action, with the final quick change being an eye-opener for any audience members who left early! On that revealing note, the post-show ended.

The Deep Blue Sea – August 2011 (1)

Aug2

10/10

By: Terence Rattigan

Directed by: Philip Franks

Venue: Chichester Festival Theatre

Date: Monday 1st August 2011

Given the intimate nature of Rattigan’s writing, it was a surprise to see that this was being staged in the main house. I wasn’t sure how well it would work, and with a more open set than I’m used to for this play my expectations were kept nice and low. Fortunately, as this is one of my favourites, the performance overcame these conditions to tell the story superbly well. I cried buckets, and of course there were a lot of laughs too, as well as the shocked reaction to the shilling incident. Full marks all round for a great evening.

The set had the room floor clearly marked out, with rubble lying outside the walls, representing the debris still left over from the war. The back wall had the kitchen nook on the far left, main door in the centre, and bedroom door far right. There was a dining table between these doors with a sideboard against the wall behind it. In front and to the right was a chaise longue coming forward, with a chair in the centre and a large footstool to the left. The gas fire and meter were at the front of the stage. There was a coat rack in a corner beside the door, and a picture hanging on the back wall, with several others stacked in odd corners. The overall effect was drab and dingy, if spacious.

On such a large stage, the performances had to be bigger than usual, and as we were nice and close they did seem a bit over the top at first. I soon realised what was going on, and adjusted my own perceptions so as to tone down the effect, and the rest of the production went just fine. The young couple who dominate the first section are meant to be crass in any case, as a contrast to the more sympathetic and understanding characters of Mrs Elton and Mr Miller, so it all worked well.

The individual performances were all very good. Susan Tracy was lovely as Mrs Elton, all concern and sympathy, but completely unable to keep a secret under the slightest of pressure. Faye Castelow was perfect as the nosy young wife, Ann Welch, with just the right gleam of pleasure in her eye at the thought of the potential scandal she was witnessing first hand. Later on, she showed us her character’s vulnerable side, when she admits that she doesn’t like being alone at night. Joseph Drake matched her nicely with his portrayal of Philip Welch, so bossy and manly, and just as judgemental as his wife given the chance. I love the way Hester turns his own pretensions back on him when she locks him in the room, telling him it’s another chance to study human nature. Both husband and wife have a lot to learn, but I like the fact that Rattigan shows us their humanity to soften our feelings towards them.

Ewan Wardrop drew the short straw of playing Jackie Jackson, a sounding-board for Freddie with not much else to do, but he did a fine job with this small part. Anthony Calf was magnificent as Sir William Collyer. When he first arrived he appeared very uptight and angry, but I could see that this was a combination of his formal judicial manner and his great love and concern for Hester. He never fully unbends, but even so, we get to see what Hester has left behind, the good and the not so good, including their shared friends and experiences. I was very touched by his kindness and reserved expressions of love – he didn’t want to cause Hester any pain, even though he was enormously distressed to be losing her all over again. This was an exemplary Rattigan performance, with the restraint showing us so much more than a direct expression.

John Hopkins gave us a jollier Freddie than I’ve seen before. While he must have been affected by his wartime experiences, he seemed the sort of chap who wouldn’t have been good at relationships anyway. His borrowing of the shilling was more of a temper tantrum than malicious, and I could sympathise with his difficulties to some extent. Pip Donaghy gave us a splendid Mr Miller, the ex-doctor who helps Hester find a way to face the future. He didn’t play the foreign background as strongly as some I’ve seen, but the impression of an outsider who has lost a great deal and seen much suffering was still there. And finally Amanda Root, as Hester, was the lynchpin of this excellent production. She ranged from the rowing ‘wife’ who lashes out in temper to the restrained woman who wouldn’t dream of even admitting to an emotion, let alone one strong enough to kill oneself over. The change at the end, when she says goodbye to Freddie, was noticeable, but as she had her back to us I’ll have to get the detail when we see it next time from a different angle. We’re looking forward to it.

Brighton ‘Til I Die – July 2011

Jul29

10/10

By: Paul Hodson and Dave Blake

Directed by: Paul Hodson

Produced by: The Future Is Unwritten & Fuel

Venue: Theatre Royal, Brighton

Date: Thursday 28th July 2011

Crystal Palace fans, look away now. Portsmouth and Southampton fans, read no more. This was an emotional rollercoaster ride through the history of the south coast’s greatest football team, Brighton and Hove Albion, concentrating on their recent difficulties, and culminating in the building of the newest, most beautiful ground in the Championship, nay, the whole football league – the Amex community stadium at Falmer. The audience participated brilliantly, and it was an evening not to be missed.

I’ll come clean right away – my credentials as a Brighton supporter are pretty weak. I saw a few matches at the Goldstone ground – they were mostly boring – including some reserve team matches, then Gillingham was too far for me – well done those who kept going – but I did catch some of the Withdean matches – rubbish again – until the arrival of Gus Poyet. The first match I saw them play under his management was the Tranmere game towards the end of the 2009/10 season, and I was thrilled. This was proper football at last, and with a new stadium on the way, I was hooked. A season ticket for me, please.

The story was told by five characters, starting with two of them, Gerbil (Jem Wall) and Southy (Steve North). Friends since school, they had watched Brighton play from the 70s onwards – well, Gerbil had, Southy took the rest of the 80s off after the 1983 Cup final – and the play was structured around their memories of the highs and, sadly, the deep, deep lows in Brighton’s fortunes.

After Gerbil’s initial attempt to create some kind of chronological order to the piece, Southy’s freer approach saved us from a long lecture on the dry details of Albion’s history. He got into an imaginary car to recreate the tension-filled journey to Hereford for the fateful game in 1997 when Brighton needed a point to stay in the league, and Hereford needed the win. After his initial reluctance, Gerbil joined him, and our journey began. Other flashbacks came thick and fast – their first meeting, the matches they saw when they were kids, getting into the North stand as they got older and eventually being able to see the game once they’d grown up. Still they kept coming back to that trip to Hereford, and the feelings it generated. Would the Albion survive at all if they dropped to the Conference?

As a bit of light relief, Mr Albion (Mark Brailsford) came on in military gear but with a large pair of underpants over his shorts, barked out various commands to get the other two off his stage, and then proceeded to give us some of the historical information from the beginning of the club to WWII. Gerbil and Southy helped him out at times, and he came on again later to fill in more of the gap between the war and the start of the lads’ story. His helmet was magical; when anyone wore it they became a fount of knowledge about the Albion, so of course Gerbil didn’t need it.

Between Mr Albion and the lads, we got the story up to the 1983 FA Cup final and replay before the interval. Southy went off into fantasyland for a bit, imagining for all of us what would have happened if Smith had scored. This included the decline of Manchester United, who end up ground sharing with Macclesfield, while Brighton went on to win the Premiership title and achieve European glory. Sadly, it’s all a dream, and the others bring him back to reality. By this time we’ve also met Anna (Ann Penfold), Gerbil’s mother, and Susan (Beth Fitzgerald), a friend from their schooldays who marries Southy in one of the funniest wedding ceremonies I’ve ever seen.

Southy agrees to marry Susan on Saturday 16^th April 1983, because there’s no chance that Brighton will get to the FA Cup semi-final. When the day arrives, Southy, Susan and Gerbil are in the church and at the reception, while Anna describes the action at the match. Gerbil has his earpiece in, and comes out with the most appropriately inappropriate exclamations during the service and afterwards, including shouting ‘Jimmy Case’ in response to the minister asking ‘If anyone knows of any just impediment…’ etc. His best man speech is seriously affected by comments about blowing the whistle, and his delirious closing statement about these two one-derful people is understood by Southy leading to some raucous celebrations between the two men, while completely ignoring poor Susan. It was hilariously funny, and made me glad I married Steve in the off season.

The second half started with Mark Brailsford singing his own version of Somewhere Over The Rainbow, suitably adapted for the Albion. It was a great beginning, and then we were into the post-‘glory’ years followed by The Troubles. Anna was one of those who believed that A____ and B______ (I can’t bring myself to fill in the blanks) were doing their best for the club, and it took some time before she saw the light. B______ eventually accused her of being a troublemaker when she tried to talk to him about the planned changes; she became very angry, and joined the campaign to save the club from Laurel and Hardy, as they were portrayed at a meeting with supporters. Her conversion was complete when she yelled out ‘Fuck off, you fucking bastards’ as the pair drove by a protest line, a sentiment which was warmly received by the audience.

Events came thick and fast now. The ‘riot’ at the York City match was covered, and at last the FA stopped doing FA and actually took some action. The Fans United match v Hartlepool in February 1997 was next up. Lots of club shirts were lowered down at the back, while the cast talked us through the match and the amazing feeling of so many football supporters coming together to show their solidarity in the face of the threats to their clubs – Brighton wasn’t the only club suffering from greedy and inept owners, then or now.

At long last we came to the fateful match against Hereford, and saw it through the eyes of all five characters. Mr Albion became the hitchhiker that Gerbil and Southy picked up on the way to the match, Anna was also at the ground and Susan listened to the match on her radio while sitting in the deserted Goldstone ground along with some other supporters. In some ways, that was the most moving part, hearing her description of the effect the game was having on those lost souls wandering around the old stands. I cry easily, anyway, and this was several hankies worth of emotion on its own.

I gather that the original version of this play ended with Albion’s win at Hereford, but this version brought us up-to-date in a very effective way. Using boxes, signs, placards, etc., and to the strains of Praise You by Fatboy Slim, they covered the final loosening of Archer’s grip from the Albion’s throat, the arrival of Dick Knight, the long years of public enquiry, ministerial approval, public enquiry, etc., etc., leading finally to the building of the new stadium, the changeover to Tony Bloom’s leadership, and the prospect of a better future for the team and us, the supporters. It was a great finish, and with the first big match about to happen at the Amex, a great way to start the new era.

The set was very simple. There were three sets of tiered standing, with the central portion representing the north stand at the Goldstone. Sheets of fabric hung down at the back, and pictures and video were projected onto these, although as there were gaps between the sheets the picture quality wasn’t fantastic. Never mind, it was only done to jog people’s memories of what had happened – this wasn’t Match Of The Day. For the final sequence, showing the time-lapse building of the Amex, an extra strip of fabric was lowered down so the pictures could be seen properly. Masks were used to represent the various real-life characters in the story, and I did like the relay race where the baton was passed from Dick Knight to Tony Bloom, especially as Knight was reluctant to let go of it at first.

All the performances were absolutely fantastic – congratulations to all involved. The audience response was terrific as well, of course, and I found I was much more involved than I had expected. Although I’d suffered vicariously through the terrible times, I went to this show thinking it would be more for my husband, and that I wouldn’t get much out of it. I was so wrong. The cathartic effect of seeing the story played out, and being able to cheer and boo, was as healing for me as it was for many. I arrived the wife of a Brighton supporter, but I left a died-in-the-wool (or should that be feather?) Seagull fan! Up the Albion!

The Cherry Orchard – July 2011

Jul20

10/10

By: Anton Chekov, in a version by Andrew Upton

Directed by: Howard Davies

Venue: Olivier Theatre

Date: Tuesday 19th July 2011

This was the most wonderful production. Even before the start I liked the look of the set, or what I could see of it in the gloom. Instead of the usual palatial if somewhat dowdy nursery, this was a very rustic house with dilapidated plank walls and drab old furniture. It gave me the sense of a house in the back of beyond as well as creating a stronger contrast with the luxury and style of Paris, and emphasised the rose-tinted aspects of Madam Ranyevskaya’s nostalgia. The telegraph/telephone pole to the right of the stage (there were actually two of them, but the other one was hidden at this point) was a reminder of the technological changes that were underway around that time, and this opening set had me engaged before a line of dialogue had been spoken.

I spotted the body on the seat as well, though I’d forgotten it was Lopakhin who would be under the blanket. I realised this was a structural motif, beginning and ending the play with someone asleep; although Firs could well be dead – in this production he’s simply lying on the floor – it tops and tails the play nicely. I also spotted the similar technique in the second act, which starts with Dunyasha and Yasha emerging from the long grass and ends with Trofimov and Anya disappearing into it.

The performance itself did not disappoint. The dialogue was crisp and clear – an excellent translation by Andrew Upton – and despite the modernisms it felt right. The story hadn’t been tampered with much, although there was a car instead of a carriage and horses, but I felt there was more being said between the characters this time which may be down to the new version. Not having seen the original Russian version, I can’t tell.

But I did get a lot more out of this production than I have previously. While there was plenty of humour, the performances took the characters and their situations seriously, and set all these in an historical and political framework which made sense of every part. I could see how the cherry orchard symbolised Mother Russia, which had become exhausted through supplying beauty and luxuries to the idle rich, its fresh potential largely untapped due to the nostalgic clinging of the elite landowners. Trees for the few have to be cleared to make houses (i.e. better living conditions) for the many. There’s no place in this new Russia for those who adhere to the old ways, so Madam Ranyevskaya has to leave, and Firs, sadly neglected, can only die. Others have to make new lives as best they can – I wonder what happens to them all? Before the Revolution, that is.

Another good aspect of this production is the additional ensemble that provides the extra characters for the party scene, as well as the extra servants. It does give a much better sense of the community that exists around the estate, even if the quality of the guests isn’t up to the standards of yesteryear (according to Firs).

And so to the individual performances. Conleth Hill as Lopakhin was worth the price of admission alone. He was absolutely spot on as the peasant made good who could never shake off his past but who desperately wanted acceptance from Ranyevskaya. His plans for the estate were lucid and sensible, and his desire to help Ranyevskaya was almost palpable. He’s delighted to have bought the estate at the auction, heady with the success of it, and I felt he was at some level getting back at Madam Ranyevskaya for her rejection of him. When it came to the proposal to Varya, he might have gone ahead with it if he hadn’t been interrupted at the crucial moment. But then again, maybe not.

Emily Taaffe played Dunyasha, the maid with ideas above her station. She’s looking for romance instead of a steady husband and is easily seduced by Yasha, the manservant who has come back from Paris with Madam Ranyevskaya. She’s unlikely to have a happy life, wanting so much that she can never get. Yasha was played by Gerald Kyd and came across as a nasty piece of work, used to satisfying his own pleasure and with little concern for anything or anyone else. Dunyasha’s other suitor, Yepihodov, was played by Pip Carter, and he was brilliant at portraying this character’s complete ineptness. We could tell from his first entrance what he was like, saying all the wrong things and clumsy with it. His attempted wooing of Dunyasha in the garden scene was very funny as he strolled around trying to look manly and failing, while Yasha just sat there oozing testosterone from every pore.

Anya, played by Charity Wakefield, was fine, while Zoe Wanamaker was wonderful as Ravyenskaya. She came across as an emotional junkie, always getting involved with the wrong sort of men and with no grasp of practical matters. When she was given the telegrams in the first act she became quite upset, and it was to help distract her that Gaev, her brother, launched into his paean of praise for the bookcase, looking at her almost all the time to see if she was listening. Everyone else was aware of her unhappiness too, and I noticed several characters glance at her with sympathy. This was another strong point of this production; the reactions from everyone on stage indicated they were all involved in whatever was going on, which kept a high level of energy throughout.

Ranyevskaya’s shock at finding out who had bought the estate was also very moving, and contrasted well with Lopakhin’s jubilation. She was very still, looking out towards the audience and clearly distressed. Despite her flaws I could still understand her point of view – she’d grown up with the cherry orchard and it was all she knew. She couldn’t handle the idea of it being cut down to make way for anything, never mind holiday homes. She was also still mourning the loss of her son years before, and her brittleness was all too evident.

Claudie Blakely as Varya was another gem. She’s held things together for so long, and with so little appreciation and thanks. Her unhappiness at Lopakhin’s failed proposal was very moving. I was strongly reminded of the relationship between Sonya and Vanya from Uncle Vanya when I saw her and Gaev together, although Gaev’s probably never been as productive as Vanya was in the pre-professor days. Gaev was played by James Laurenson, and was a lovely bumbling character with great kindness and verbal diarrhoea. The billiards references weren’t emphasised so much this time, but that wasn’t a problem.

Charlotta was played by Sarah Woodward, an actress I’ve always enjoyed watching on stage. Her Charlotta was bright and snappy, but without any malice, very matter-of-fact. The magic tricks were good fun, and the appearance/disappearance was done next to a folding room divider with tall windows down to about three feet from the floor, so not a lot of room to hide people. Her dog was a cloth puppet, as was the baby at the end, of course.

Simyonov-Pishchik, constantly trying to borrow money, was played by Tim McMullan, and again I enjoyed his performance very much. (What is that white mud the Englishmen are paying him so much for?) Kenneth Cranham as Firs looked more robust than many I’ve seen, but played the faithful retainer very well, while Mark Bonnar as Trofimov caught perfectly all of that character’s passionate idealism, contempt for the past, and reluctance to do any actual work. It was interesting to note that he was just as disturbed by the arrival of the passer-by (Craige Els) as everyone else – perhaps Trofimov won’t do as well in the Revolution as he thinks.

There was plenty of dancing in this production, which made it very lively. The back wall of the nursery at the start opened out to form side walls for the garden scene, and these were then brought back for the living room in Act three. The final Act was also in this room, rather than recreating the nursery. The clarity of the dialogue, the detail in the performances and the relationships, and the superb way the story was contextualised within Russian history makes this one of the best Chekov productions I’ve ever seen, if not the very best. Full marks to the whole team.

Frankenstein 1 & 2 – April 2011

Apr15

10/10

By: Nick Dear, based on the novel by Mary Shelley

Directed by: Danny Boyle

Venue: Olivier Theatre

Dates: Tuesday 12th and Thursday 14th April 2011

This was another amazing experience from beginning to end. As we were taking our seats, I noticed the mirrored panel hung from the ceiling, with a myriad of light bulbs hung from it. Some were the old fashioned type, some the low energy ones, and some had old-fashioned shades on them. We speculated that there could be all sorts of interesting effects with this set up, and we weren’t wrong.

The set, in fact the whole auditorium, was swathed in textured paper, which reminded me of the set for Fram, and immediately created the impression of an arctic wilderness. Since we knew where the story would end up, that made sense. A large bell was hung over the central aisle, just in front of the balcony, and from time to time one of the cast rang it – boy was it loud! There was background music as well, those low-pitched, thrumming sounds that seemed familiar as a way of suggesting menace, often with an industrial/technological aspect. What I realised second time around was that there were other sounds as well, muffled as from a distance – a man talking, people singing, and then I got it. This was a church service, presumably the reason for Frankenstein’s absence, and an extra nuance to the birth scene – born on a Sunday, during a church service.

I also spotted a coat hanging over on the left wall, but the centrepiece of the initial setting (look away now if you don’t want me to spoil the surprise) was a wooden frame with an artificial womb attached, made of leather or some sort of skin. The strips of skin were cunningly crossed over each other to create a pouch, and inside that pouch something was stirring.

Outside, we’d seen the sign about the auditorium not being opened till fifteen minutes before the performance, and Steve knew right away that meant someone would be on the stage at the beginning. So we weren’t surprised by this so much as enthralled by the imagery. Also, we couldn’t remember which way round we’d booked for these – would it be Benedict Cumberbatch or Jonny Lee Miller emerging from the womb today? (It was Benedict first, then Jonny.)

Whoever it was, we could just see that they were writhing about very slowly within the womb, with the occasional hand or foot being pressed against the skin and becoming easier to see. The frame was on the revolve, and moved round quite a bit during this pre-performance performance, ending up on the right hand side of the stage. With the audience all settled in their seats (we were warned to come early), the lights went down, and the sound of a heartbeat started. Next thing, the lights in the overhead panel lit up, flashing across the ceiling, and the creature began to emerge from its pouch, first one arm, then another, jerkily responding to the lightning flashes until it flopped out completely onto the floor.

The next section was an extended session of movement work. First twitching, then flailing, the creature began to move across the stage, attempting to get its body to do something, but was it remembering movement, or was it finding out for the first time? It became quite painful to watch its struggle, and then gradually it managed a greater degree of control, and started to get to its feet. Naturally, there were failures at first, but the creature’s determination finally got it up and walking, albeit in a very strange way. We also had the first chance to laugh, not so much at the creature, but at its delight at being able to walk, and its comical gait.

With great delight, the creature began to run around the stage, finally collapsing back down near the pouch, and it’s at this point that Frankenstein arrives. He goes over to the creature, presumably thinking it’s fallen out of the pouch, and is horrified when it moves. (What did he think he was making in his lab? It’s not as if he hasn’t seen it before.) Snarling at it to get back, and obey him, he throws his coat over it and runs off. Not a nice man, then.

The poor creature only wanted some affection, some nurturing, but sadly life isn’t always that kind. He manages to walk out of the lab – the location isn’t as specific as some of the later scenes – and then we have the only bit that I didn’t care for so much in this production. The heavy beat of the music starts up, and a mechanical doodly-whatsit appears through the central doors at the back. It has large cog wheels, emits a great deal of steam, and the various cast members are riding it or walking beside it. I had no idea what was meant by this – it all seemed very surreal, although afterwards I reckoned it represented the town of Ingolstadt.

Second time around I found it much clearer. The contraption appeared to be a train, and when it stopped the workers jumped off and started using their hammers. Sparks streamed out from under the train, and then the work stopped and the men and women lined up as the train was moved back. The women appeared to be prostitutes, and one of them, who was having a bit of client trouble, is grateful when the creature scares that man off. Mind you, she’s not too keen on the man in the cloak when she catches sight of his face, and as he’s not yet able to speak properly, it’s perhaps understandable that they see him as a monster. We, on the other hand, are very much on his side. I know I was.

When the mechanical gubbins is removed, there’s a strip of grass laid down the centre of the stage. Now the creature gets to experience the countryside, starting with the dawn, using lights and a large orange disc on the back wall. Then some birds fly up from the bushes, singing beautifully, and he gets soaked by a shower of rain. He’s been trying to find something to eat, poor lad, and he even tries the grass, but spits it out immediately. (Second time around, he eats it with pleasure, then takes a dump.) He finds a book in one of the coat pockets, and can’t eat that either, although he does find out that it has pages.

Later, some men come along with a fire and cooking pot, and once he’s scared them off, he tries his hand at eating the meat. Finding the pot too hot to handle, he realises that the spoon is touchable, and although the meat is also very hot, he does at least get some food down him. The fire dies down, and he uses the bag the men left as a pillow and falls asleep. The men come back with sticks, though, and give him a beating, before taking their stuff away, so again he has to move on. (Second time around, I noticed he gets some clothes from the bag as the men are grabbing it from him.)

A see-through hut appears beside the grass, and we meet the old, blind man and his son and daughter-in-law. While the couple go off to clear a field of stones, the creature sneaks in and finally finds someone who isn’t terrified of him. This section shows the creature learning to speak and to read. There’s humour in it, with some of the creature’s comments, and the standard of his reading matter – Milton’s Paradise Lost, for example – but then his teacher was a university professor, so naturally he focuses on the classics.

The creature also sees the young couple kissing and canoodling, which leads him to fantasise about a possible partner for himself. A ‘rock’ appears at the front of the stage, where the walkway down the central aisle meets the stage, and metamorphoses into a beautiful woman, though made up and dressed to resemble the creature. She dances with him, he dreams, and then she’s gone. This situation holds out the possibility of a better life, but sadly, despite the old man’s promises, the son and daughter aren’t so ready to accept the creature, and drive him off, thinking he’s a threat to the old man. One disadvantage of having learned so much from the classics is that the creature’s role models are dramatic kings and heroes, whose natural inclination when faced with an attack or injury is to fight back and revenge themselves. And so the creature commits his first crime; he burns down the hut with the family inside.

Having learned to read, the creature now knows from the book he found in the coat pocket, that he was ‘made’ by Victor Frankenstein, who lives in Geneva. He immediately heads for that city, and the set shifts, with the hut removed and the grass covered by wooden paths which are lowered down to the stage. As this is being set up, there’s a little group at the front of the stage, some adults and children, and one of the women puts a blindfold on one of the boy’s eyes. They head off and re-emerge on one of the wooden walkways – they’re off to play a game of blind man’s buff. When the boy is left on the end of the walkway, the creature appears, and again the child isn’t afraid of him, although as he’s told not to turn round, he doesn’t actually see the man he’s talking to. When the creature finds out that the boy is William Frankenstein, Victor’s brother, he snatches him as a means of getting to Victor.

The rest of the party are soon out looking for the boy, along with Victor and William’s father. Victor is remarkably tactless, telling his fiancée, Elizabeth, that she was responsible for losing him. Given that he’s spent all his time skulking in his room since coming back from Ingolstadt, you’d think their relationship would be on the rocks, but amazingly, Elizabeth is still keen to marry the man. Anyway, the boy’s body turns up in a boat that floats over to their side of the lake, and there are pages from Victor’s missing journal beside him. Victor knows what he has to do.

He heads up the mountain, and soon meets up with the creature. This encounter is pivotal, and was very well done. A semi-circle opens up on the revolve, at the back, presumably to represent a crevasse or cliff, but otherwise, the stage is bare. (The grass strips were taken up with the wooden walkways.) Victor and his creation meet, fight, argue, and eventually, whether by accident or design, the creature provides Victor with the perfect temptation, the chance to create another living being, but this time, to get it right! Pride was always his downfall.

Their debate covered some interesting areas, such as the responsibility of the scientist toward the repercussions of his work, and how responsible the creature could be for his actions, given the lack of nurture and education when he was ‘born’. Frankenstein certainly comes across as a callous, arrogant chap, with a great mind perhaps, but little understanding of the consequences of his actions, and a tendency to pin the blame on others when things go wrong. The creature has difficulty handling his emotions, and lashes out in a rage when he doesn’t get what he wants, but then he is a child, despite the adult body, and needs guidance to help him adjust to his own peculiar brand of life. Overall, my sympathies were with the creature, and my only regret is that Victor doesn’t get his proper comeuppance at the end.

However, he does agree to the creature’s request that he make another creature, a female one, so that his original could have a companion. Only we know that he won’t keep his promise, you can just tell. With this promise, the creature agrees to leave Victor and his family alone, and scampers off up the mountain. Victor heads off, and personally, I thought this would a suitable place for an interval, but I’m not directing the piece so I don’t get a say.

Victor goes straight back to his father to inform him that he, Victor, is leaving immediately. Never mind the death of his brother and the funeral, never mind his fiancée, whom he’s kept waiting for five years already, he’s off and that’s that. His father does at least insist that Victor give the news to Elizabeth himself, which is how I know that she’s still keen to marry him. Poor girl. She’s even willing to go with him and help with his studies, despite her lack of education and not knowing one end of a Bunsen burner from the other. Turning down her offer of help, rather churlishly I thought, he does at least promise to come back and settle down with her, and even give her some regular kids, but with his track record? At least we now know he’s off to Oxford, to study in the libraries there, and then to Scotland, a terrible place, completely unsuitable for a young lady. How we laughed. So when the revolve turns again, and his father’s study (with a strangely sloping floor) moves round to the back, it’s no surprise to see a stone built Scottish cottage emerge from the gloom.

Once arrived, Frankenstein’s first action is to enquire of his two helpers where he can get a supply of freshly dead women. An unusual request, which troubles the younger man, while the older one is keen to have his conscience assuaged by the assurance that it’s all for medical research which will be of great benefit to humanity. That, and a purse of money, seals the deal.

At the dead of night, and right at the front of the stage, they exhume the body of a recently deceased young woman, and take her off to Frankenstein. Soon, we see a familiar wooden frame appear in the cottage, and the figure draped on it is unmistakably female. When there’s a knock on the door – a final delivery of fresh body parts – Frankenstein quickly conceals his work with a blanket. Then, as he rests, he has a dream where his brother, William, rises out of one of the sacks just delivered and questions Victor about his work. He asks a lot of questions, and gradually they come round to the area that concerns Victor most – will the creatures be able to breed (Victor supposes they will), and what will happen when they do? This is clearly a case of Victor’s subconscious trying to get a message through to his waking mind, and for the first time it seems that Frankenstein is starting to consider the consequences of his actions.

When the creature arrives, bounding into the room through the crumbling roof, he’s delighted with the she-creature, not yet fully animated, but able to walk already. Victor questions the creature about love (I did wonder what the man knew about the subject – we’ve seen precious little evidence of that quality in his character so far) and finally seems satisfied that the creature really does have the capacity to love his future companion.

Telling the creature to wait while he completes the animation process, Frankenstein takes her back behind the screen to finish the job. With the dream fresh in his mind, however, he’s decided that the risk of these creatures breeding and populating the world with what he presumably regards as ‘corrupt’ offspring was too great, and so he kills the woman rather than giving her life and the creature his companion. Naturally enough, the creature doesn’t take too kindly to this, and swears to revenge himself on Victor’s own beloved. Finally, Victor sees the danger to Elizabeth, and instantly decides to rush back to Geneva and marry her.

Back in Geneva, the study has now become the bride’s bedroom, where Elizabeth is preparing to receive her new husband on their wedding night. There’s some humour in the conversation with her maid, and then Victor sweeps in with two armed guards, not the usual companions for an eager new husband. He’s made sure that the grounds have been thoroughly searched, there are guards everywhere, and yet instead of staying with Elizabeth to enjoy their first night together, he’s off again the check the perimeter, or some such. (Second time round, I got that he intends to kill the creature first, before enjoying a night with his new bride. And they called the man a genius.)

I was totally surprised when, after he left and Elizabeth was on her own, the creature leapt from the bed where he’d been hiding under the covers. A good trick – I certainly didn’t spot it in advance. He grabs Elizabeth to stop her screaming, but lets her go when she promises to be quiet. This is the first time he’s spoken to a kind person since the old man, a long time ago, and she’s probably the first to treat him kindly despite his looks. Even so, he’s too strongly hooked on revenge for her kindness to have any effect. After admitting that one of the hard lessons he’s learned is how to lie, he throws her on the bed and rapes her. Frankenstein rushes in at this point, but instead of shooting the creature, stands there in horror, giving the creature time to finish the job by killing Elizabeth, after which he pulls up his trousers, and escapes. Victor is keen to take Elizabeth to his room, where he knows he can revive her, being so recently killed, but his father and the other attendants restrain him, thinking him mad. So Elizabeth is gone forever.

The final scene is in the arctic. The creature arrives, puts down his bundle, and takes out some silverware for a meal. With the central revolve now lowered, there’s a flat surface for Frankenstein to drag his sledge over. (In fact, he and his sled rise up as the flat stage is replaced.) All the while the creature is explaining the situation, how he left Geneva and travelled over Europe, through Russia, up to the frozen expanse of ice and snow, with Frankenstein always following. Now he’s caught up again, he can eat the food the creature has put out for him, but the effort seems to be too much, and he’s suddenly still. The creature cradles him in his arms, feeling the loss of the only person in his life, and tries to revive him with the wine. No response. The creature grieves, and then Victor suddenly comes back to life, and the chase continues. This time, as Victor follows the creature off the back of the stage, they’re heading towards a brilliant display of lights, shining in our eyes through the door at the back. Rapturous applause.

And so to round two. Of course, the first time round was always going to have the benefit of surprise, and the second viewing didn’t have the same emotional charge as a result, but then I did get more out of the piece the second time around, and I find that it’s those performances that have stayed with me more.

I’ve mentioned some of the differences above, so now I want to concentrate on the variations in the central performances. I felt both actors did a good job of both parts. I know some people commented on the wig that Jonny Lee Miller was wearing, but it didn’t bother me. Benedict Cumberbatch had opted for a bald cap to play the creature, so that he had his own hair for the part of Frankenstein, while Jonny Lee Miller had gone the other way – fine with me. Benedict’s creature seemed to have less personality, and took considerably longer to find his feet, literally and metaphorically. His opening sequence of learning to move took several minutes more than Jonny’s version, and was harder to watch. Benedict’s creature seemed to be more of a blank slate for a longer time, and I think there was less humour as a result. Jonny’s creature developed quicker and had a more recognisable personality sooner, which engaged my sympathy on a personal level, whereas first time round I was sympathetic in a more general sense, as I would be for any creature that was treated so badly.

As for the Victors, Benedict’s version was more about the intellectual challenge, while Jonny’s was stronger in terms of the arrogance – I really didn’t like his Victor as a person, while I might have got on with Benedict’s, at least for a short while. I’m still not sure why Frankenstein doesn’t shoot the creature during Elizabeth’s rape and murder, but from the second performance I’ve reckoned that he may not have been willing to kill the very being he, and he alone, has created. Arrogance again.

So overall this was a doubly fantastic experience – not only a really good version of the Frankenstein story, but two slightly different interpretations of it. Brilliant.

Flare Path – April 2011

Apr7

10/10

By: Terence Rattigan

Directed by: Trevor Nunn

Venue: Theatre Royal, Haymarket

Date: Wednesday, 6th April 2011

We saw a touring production of this many years ago; not a great production and the play didn’t strike us as one of Rattigan’s best. We’re very fond of Rattigan’s work, so we came to this performance with the best attitude – we didn’t have high expectations, but we were keen to see the play again in a more powerful production, to get a better sense of its scope.

Personally, I was gone long before it started. About twenty minutes before the off, they started playing 1940s swing numbers to get us in the mood. I didn’t recognise any specific songs, but the period feel was perfect. Then I started reading the program notes, about Rattigan’s own wartime experiences and the strategy of the bombing campaign against Germany. I had to clean my glasses again, they’d become all mucky from my tears.

And there were more tears to come, for all sorts of reasons. The play started quietly enough, with an almost empty set, the residents’ lounge of the small country hotel where all the action takes place. There was a door to the lounge bar front left, with the light switches beside it, further back was the reception desk, and back left was the main door. The stairs were back right, and between the door and the stairs was the enormous window, all carefully taped up in case of bombs. On the right was the fireplace, and there were lots of chairs and tables scattered around. Above this main set, there was a panel which showed pictures of the take offs, including the final, fatal one. There were also many sound effects of plane engines – thank God they didn’t use Lancasters or I’d have been well sodden before the interval.

The play began with the arrival of Peter Kyle, a famous film actor, born British but now an American citizen. He’s recognised fairly quickly by the only other person in the lounge, Doris, otherwise known as the Countess Unpronounceable (Skriczevinsky). She’s not Polish herself, but is married to a Polish pilot, Johnny. She persuades Mrs Oakes, the hotel proprietor, to let Mr Kyle have a room for the night – even though we’ve established that the hotel is full, she grudgingly lets Mr Kyle sleep in the Wing Commander’s room, but makes him promise not to touch any of the Wing Commander’s things.

This scene is a marvellous combination of different facets of life at that time. Eager for news (aka gossip), Doris is bright and chatty one minute, then when she hears the sound of engines she becomes brisk and businesslike, with a strong sense of underlying tension. It could seem an odd shift, but here it worked brilliantly to take us into the characters’ world without a lot of explanation. Fortunately, with Peter Kyle being an ex-pat, so to speak, there were plenty of opportunities to explain RAF slang to everyone when needed, and although many of the terms are familiar now, I found it helpful to be reminded that these words and phrases were just being coined.

The other characters start arriving, and soon we’ve met rear gunner Miller, his wife Maudie, Johnny the Polish Count, Teddy Graham (a bomber pilot) and his wife Patricia, who used to be an actress, and who had even been in one of Mr Kyle’s plays in London some years ago (Steve and I exchanged knowing looks).

We also met Percy, the hotel’s waiter, a young lad not yet old enough to be called up but old enough to take a keen interest in the activities of the local bomber squadron. He didn’t get anything out of the bomber crew, but that didn’t stop him spreading rumours about likely raids and intended targets.

The final character is ‘Gloria’, aka Squadron Leader Swanson, who appears late in the first act to send the airmen on a dangerous mission. With her husband off to fight the Hun, Patricia doesn’t get a chance to tell him she’s leaving to be with Peter, and as events unfold, first she and then Peter himself recognise that they have to end their affair.

Just as they end things, we’re treated to the safe return of Johnny, who landed in the drink, and had quite an adventure getting back to base. With his arrival, everyone cheers up, apart from Peter and Patricia, and the play concludes with drinks all round – even Mrs Miller has a port in her hand and the beginnings of a smile on her face – and the first verse of a very lewd song.

There were marvellous performances all round. Although I found Sienna Miller and James Purefoy to be more ‘theatrical’ than the rest, that was reasonable given their characters, so I’m not complaining. The most emotional scene, where Teddy breaks down and reveals his terror to his wife, was very moving and difficult to watch. Harry Hadden-Paton’s performance was particularly good – it’s a tricky scene to get right, but he went a long way into the man’s fear and sense of his own weakness without losing my sympathy or making it comic. Of course, his wife’s reactions are an important part of making the scene work, and Sienna Miller held her own beautifully.

The other sniffle fest was after this, when Peter reads the Count’s letter to his wife, given to her in case he doesn’t return from a ‘do’. Written in French, she needs Peter’s help as translator, and there’s a moment for both of them when he reads that the Count had been looking forward to taking his wife home to his country after the war; Peter had voiced the opinion that she was a Countess only till the war was over (how wrong can you be?) and she had overheard him (that’s the trouble with public lounges). Both actors made the most of this intimate moment, even though it wasn’t really an intimacy between themselves.

For all the sniffles, there were also a lot of laughs to help things along. With very little actually appearing to happen, we still get a fascinating insight onto life at that time for a particular section of the population, such is Rattigan’s skill as a playwright. We’re really looking forward to the rest of the planned Rattigan productions this year – if they’re half as good as this, we’re in for a fantastic time.

ilovetheatre

Notes on theatre performances since 2006

Category Archives: 10/10

Noises Off – February 2012

The Heart Of Robin Hood – January 2012

Steeleye Span – December 2011

Othello – October 2011

Singin’ In The Rain – September 2011

The Deep Blue Sea – August 2011 (1)

Brighton ‘Til I Die – July 2011

The Cherry Orchard – July 2011

Frankenstein 1 & 2 – April 2011

Flare Path – April 2011