Category Archives: 5/10

Liberty – October 2008

5/10

By Glyn Maxwell, based on the novel by Anatole France

Directed by Guy Retallack

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Friday 24th OCtober 2008

We enjoyed this a lot more than the critics, apparently, even though the audience numbers were sadly depleted. It’s a play about the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution, and although I knew a bit about it – guillotine, tricoteuses, new calendar, etc. – I wasn’t up to speed on most of the play’s content, which made it an interesting evening if nothing else.

The play is based on a novel by Anatole France, and uses six of his main characters who represent the different ways in which the French people were affected by, and responded to, the Revolution. One, Evariste Gamelin, is selected to become a magistrate, and we see him evolve from being an idealist who fervently believes in the promises of the Revolution to a fanatic who sends people to their death because that’s the only way for the Revolution to set people free. He’s a nutter, basically, but this play does show how people can become corrupted when they believe their cause is just.

He takes up with a pretty young embroidress, Elodie, and his brainwashing turns  her into a zombie, spouting Revolutionist slogans. She’s rescued by the end of the Terror, and returns to something like normality. Gamelin’s main friend is Philippe, a chap who’s happy to take advantage of the opportunities that abound when there’s a war, and who’s eventually arrested for profiteering. He actually manages to survive the Terror, but Gamelin is not so lucky. The magistrates are being informed against on a regular basis, and so despite his purity and dedication to the cause, he too is taken away and killed.

There’s also an actress friend of Philippe’s, called Rose Clebert, and she suffers through the shutting of the theatres and the banning of any “improper” plays. As she used to play aristocrats, she’s in danger of being seen as one of them, especially when she comes to the aid of Maurice, a former aristocrat who now lodges with Gamelin. She and Maurice were partners in a game the friends were all playing at the picnic which forms the opening scene. That scene doesn’t include the game itself, but it’s often referred to in later scenes. Maurice (a lovely performance by John Bett) opened the second half of the play with his puppets, and gets us all to join in while he gets ready for a puppet show. Rose comes along and they get talking, and it’s all good fun, with a lot of laughs and some audience participation. Then two citizen soldiers arrive and start throwing their weight around, and the whole scene becomes very unpleasant. They make Maurice shag one of his puppets, and Rose might be on the menu as well, but fortunately Gamelin comes along and sends the men packing. It’s only a temporary reprieve however, as both Rose and Maurice are arrested, with Maurice not surviving to the end. Losing him is tough for her, and she ends up reading his book instead of joining in the parties and fun that Philippe and Elodie are off to.

There’s one final character, played by Belinda Lang, who is Louise Rochemaure, a female wheeler-dealer who spends all her time hatching schemes and trying to get to know the people in power. Through Gamelin, whose appointment to the bench she has orchestrated, she gets to know Marat, and is just about to pull off a big coup when someone kills him in his bath, and she’s suddenly up in front of the courts and not doing very well from the sound of it. She also doesn’t survive.

I enjoyed a lot of this play, not least the performances and the humour. I thought the historical information was put into the dialogue very well, and there were only a couple of places where it seemed a bit like a lecture. I could relate to the characters pretty well, especially Maurice and Rose, and I liked the change from humour and fun to seriousness and menace in that opening to the second half. It took a while to get going, and although I could see why the author wanted to start with the picnic scene, I felt that it was too loose somehow to really engage me. Something seemed to be missing, though I couldn’t say what. The audience did its best to make up for lack of numbers, and I hope the cast were as happy with our performance this evening as we were with theirs.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Don’t Look Now – October 2008

5/10

By Daphne Du Maurier, adapted by Nell Leyshon

Directed by Ian Dickens

Company: Ian Dickens Productions

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Wednesday 22nd October 2008

This was slightly disappointing. The play was based on both the original novel and the film with Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie, which I haven’t seen but Steve has. The story is set in and around Venice.

The set design was a bit boring, even allowing for the fact that this is a touring production. There were lots of walls, arches and balconies, all in washed-out colours. There were a lot of furnishings to be taken on and off between scenes, but as this was done fairly briskly I didn’t find it a problem. In general though, I felt there was very little sense of atmosphere. I suspect the lighting was partly at fault, as it seemed very flat most of the time.

The play started with a young couple sitting at an outdoor table on one of the Venetian islands. Their young daughter, Christina, died a short time ago, and their trip to Venice is an attempt to get over their grief. Their son is back in England, at school. They spot a couple of older women watching them, and make up backgrounds for them – jewel thieves, murderers, that sort of thing. One of the women talks to the wife during a trip to the loo, and this triggers an emotional change in her which disturbs the husband.

The older woman who has spoken to the wife has told her that the other older woman, her sister, is blind, but has developed an ability to see visions. She saw their daughter at their table, and this makes the wife very happy. From being unwilling to let her husband touch her, she changes so much she has sex with him that afternoon. He, on the other hand, thinks the sisters are just conning them, and becomes absurdly insistent that his wife has been taken in by a load of old rubbish.

It’s absurd because his emotions seem out of place in the circumstances. He also takes to seeing what may be their daughter, dressed in the red cloak she used to wear. The sense of foreboding increases when they get a call from England, to tell them their son is in hospital, and needs an urgent operation to remove his appendix. The wife flies back at once, but despite a warning from the two sisters that they should both leave Venice immediately, the husband stays on, planning to pick up their car and drive back.

The next day, he sees his wife with the two sisters, and instigates a police hunt for her, believing that the sisters have lured her back somehow. Then he manages to talk with her by phone, and is greatly relieved to find she’s in England, and their son is well after his operation. The police aren’t too happy when he tells them they were on a wild goose chase, though. They’re trying to track down a murderer who’s killing tourists, and didn’t need to be wasting their valuable time on something else.

The husband goes out for  a final stroll, and sees the small figure in the red cloak again. He follows it, and it turns out the tourist killer is a midget, dressed in a red cloak, and so the husband ends up dead. The final scene shows us the wife returning to Venice to collect her husband’s body and being supported by the two sisters, who tell her that her husband must have had a vision of this moment when he thought he saw his wife earlier.

It’s a simple enough story, and reasonably well told, but again the lack of atmosphere made it less gripping. The performances were fine, apart from the chief of police, who seemed determined to avoid speaking clearly throughout the whole evening. This, coupled with an Italian accent (I assume; I didn’t hear him well enough), meant that I lost most of his dialogue, and so the information about the tourist killer was lost on me until close to the end. Other than that, this was  a watchable production, but not an inspired one.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Piaf – September 2008

5/10

By Pam Gems

Directed by Jamie Lloyd

Venue: Donmar Warehouse

Date: Wednesday 3rd September 2008

The set was very simple, as often happens at the Donmar. An elaborately carved rectangular stone arch framed the very back of the stage, while the back wall looked like it belonged in one of those underground tunnels that Don Wildman is always investigating on Cities of the Underworld. It was dark, with an unfinished texture, and just the word ‘Piaf’ in faint lettering running down the lower right hand side. The floor had cobbles and rough concrete to match.

We were in the back row again(!) – must book earlier next time – so we were actually feet away from the action, instead of inches! Never mind, this didn’t spoil our enjoyment of the play. What did spoil it a bit was the way a perfectly good bio-drama, with songs (she was famous for her singing after all) had been edited down to a Greatest Hits compilation, with a few bits of dialogue tying it together. [And I read in the play text that it was the author herself who did this!]

To be fair, the performance of Elena Roger as Piaf was excellent. She aged herself tremendously over the course of the play, with only a little help from makeup and wigs. Her singing voice was powerful and could easily tackle Piaf’s songs, and she was also small, which helped the impersonation. The rest of the cast also sang well, and we know them to be good actors from past experience, but with so little for any of them to do this time around, you’d be forgiven for thinking that neither the author nor the director had any of our confidence in them.

I liked the finale very much. From the point when her old mate Toine turned up, with Piaf looking at death’s door, to the closing chords of ‘Je ne regrette rein’, the emotional impact that had been conspicuously absent so far suddenly hit me, and as the music for her final song started up, my tears began to flow. It was enough to leave me feeling reasonably happy with the production, but I still don’t know why they had to cut out so much good stuff. I particularly missed Piaf and Toine’s discussion of crabs (the genital variety).

In fact, apart from a couple of good jokes, the humour had largely disappeared. This was a determinedly bleak view of a woman who had faced many tough times, and proved herself to be even tougher. She drank like a fish and got hooked on drugs after one of her car accidents – she would let reckless young men drive her about. Many of the men in her life just used her as a money machine, and she had a habit of cutting herself off from anyone who really cared for her. Even so, there was still a spirit there that could fight back against the odds, and a talent that could captivate thousands. Where was that spirit today? I felt the whole production had been made deliberately unsentimental, with very little warmth, and practically no time to get to know the characters and relate to them. This is why it took till nearly the end of the performance for me to feel engaged with it. It didn’t help that the dialogue was often too rushed for me to make it out, even when it was in English, and the songs, though sung very well, didn’t move me much at all.

Having said all that, it obviously pleased a lot of Piaf fans, with several standing at the end, and I did enjoy it well enough to give it 5/10. I wouldn’t go out of my way to see this again though, unless it’s closer to the original version, which we saw many years ago and enjoyed better than this.

P.S. I caught up with some reports of Pam Gems’ comments. Apparently she was adding in new information about Piaf’s relationships and her activities during the war that weren’t available last time. Doesn’t change my opinion, but interesting all the same.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Merchant Of Venice – August 2008

Experience: 5/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Tim Carroll

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Wednesday 20th August 2008

I wondered back in June if the first team would be as enjoyable to watch as the reserves (the football metaphor is apt, for a number of reasons). Sadly, this time I found they weren’t, although some of the individual performances were very good. From the session with Tim Carroll this afternoon (perhaps it would have been better scheduled tomorrow), I was hopeful that his neutral approach would lead to fresh awarenesses, but sadly it seems to have led to a bland and surprisingly lifeless production, with only Shakespeare’s excellent writing saving the day.

Firstly, I’ll cover the things that didn’t work so well for me this time around. Gratiano was played well enough, but William Beck as the understudy did such a good job that I found myself enjoying this performance much less. The laughter started considerably later as well, and the character seemed nondescript compared to the other version. No criticism of John Paul Connolly is intended here; I reckon the directorial style doesn’t help to create clear characterisations – more on that story later.

There were some distractions tonight that didn’t happen before. I noticed people moving around up on the top level of the balcony, musicians I expect. We were in similar seats for the understudy run, but I didn’t notice any movement then, so whether it was just me or not I don’t know. Also, during the casket choosing by Bassanio, I noticed Launcelot Gobbo and the other maid eyeing each other up. Although I knew they were going to have a snog later, I still found this distracted me from the main event, without adding anything to the performance.

I found Portia less interesting and less lively this time around too. I mentioned last time that I’d like to see Amara Karan’s Viola sometime, whereas Georgina Rich, although giving a good performance for the most part, seemed to lack confidence throughout. This worked fine during the trial scene, where she’s understandably unsure of carrying off her portrayal of a man (for all her boasting to Nerissa) and unsure of how to get Antonio out of his predicament. (In this performance I was very clear that she finds the life-saving loophole at the last minute.) But it doesn’t sit so well with a woman who “but now .. was the lord of this fair mansion, master of my servants, queen o’er myself”, nor a woman who could dare to take on a man’s role and successfully argue a case in law in which a man’s life was at stake. I don’t suggest brazen arrogance would be appropriate, but this degree of nervousness did seem out of place.

As far as the staging goes, there were some extra details which I don’t remember from last time (see below), and which I felt improved the effects; however I found the ring delivery staging, with the actors only visible from the shoulders down, just as strange as before, although the lines did come across more clearly. The filling of the wine glasses with red liquid was completely undercut in this staging, as the lights were so dim I couldn’t actually see the colour being used – it just looked dark. I knew it was red from the understudy run, which must have been better lit, but while I was prepared to reassess this effect, had it been the same, all I can say now is that it left me cold.

As did much of the performance. The lines were often very clear, and I did catch some more snippets than before. However, the delivery was often very choppy, leading to the effect seen in Midsummer Night’s Dream, when Quince delivers the speech beginning “If we offend, it is with our good will.” The sense was lost or garbled. Some of the long pauses worked quite well, some made the speeches unintelligible. It was very hit and miss, and I felt the production style left a lot to be desired in getting the play across, if this was the best they could do. For Portia’s speech before Bassanio chooses, when she’s at the back of the stage, I couldn’t make out a word.

The ‘big’ speeches were also undersold, which can be fine. They are so well known that it’s nice to see them slipped into the dialogue as if they’re just extensions of the characters’ thought processes (which they are) instead of sing-along arias, where the play grinds to a halt while the soloist gives their all, and the audience’s applause can lead to an encore. I know this doesn’t actually happen in today’s theatre (did it happen in the past, I wonder?), but it can feel like that. However, tonight’s really big two – “Hath not a Jew eyes?” and “The quality of mercy is not strained” – were approached differently but each had their problems. The “quality of mercy” speech was really clunky, and didn’t seem to arise out of anything other than that was what the script told her to say at that point. The “Hath not a Jew eyes?” snuck up on me unexpectedly, which was very nice, and it certainly sprang directly from the character’s need to express these ideas at this time, but it was less moving than it could have been, and possibly less effective as a result.

The main problem I had with this performance was the lack of engagement. I really didn’t care about these characters. I wasn’t moved by any of it – they seemed to be empty husks saying the lines clearly, for the most part, but missing the point of the dialogue entirely. I was frankly bored for large chunks of the first half, and nodded off for a bit. I wouldn’t have believed this possible from our earlier experience with the understudies.

So what did I like about this performance? Well, Angus Wright, an actor we’ve both liked for many years, was very good as Shylock. His lines always came across clearly, sprang directly from his character, and he was powerful both in premature victory and in defeat. His stance over the prostrate Antonio on the breakfast bar was definitely menacing, and even at the end, with the conditions placed on him that would be almost unbearable, he confronted Antonio nose to nose, and kept his dignity. The way he crossed himself as he left got a small laugh – it suggested to me that he would play their games, but without any change in his convictions, or his loathing towards the “Christians”.

The three caskets turned out to be blocks of ice, with the keys being small icicles. There was some reference during today’s talk of ice representing virginity, but I didn’t understand what he was talking about – they didn’t use these caskets during the understudy run. When the correct casket was chosen, the ice block cracked open, as I suspected it would.

The final scene was very enjoyable, and I’d put that down mainly to Will’s fantastic writing. Antonio looked more than embarrassed to find he’d inadvertently got his friend into trouble – his face was a picture. The performances were good enough to get all the usual laughs, and the finding of the letters in the audience was slightly better than before. Antonio even tries to ask the dear old lady who handed over his letter, for more information about his ships and where she got the letter, which was well done and amusing. It even delayed Portia’s next line for a while. Nerissa had stowed her letter away in her sleeve this time, and all ends happily. I wasn’t so frustrated by the dance this time, as my urge to applaud wasn’t so great, but still I joined in willingly when the time came.

As to how we feel this style of production works or doesn’t work for us, Steve saw it in footballing terms, as when George Graham sold Malcolm MacDonald because he didn’t want stars in his team (couldn’t handle them, Steve reckons), while I saw it more as an inkblot production, putting the responsibility on the audience to make something of it, rather than making choices for them. While this seemed like a good idea this afternoon, I now see it as less appealing, although I accept that for some people this may be the sort of production they yearn to see. My problem is I don’t relate well to inkblots (and let’s face it, Shakespeare’s plays are themselves inkblots, so an inkblot production of an inkblot play isn’t going to give us much to go on.) I have a perfectly good imagination, but I also see quite clearly, so unless there’s something, some idea or sense of the characters or story or situation that I can begin to relate to, I’m stymied. I like to observe productions closely, and pick up on the minute nuances of a performance, but here there was nothing to go on, and so I found it less than enjoyable for the most part. I also sense that it may have stopped the actors from really getting to grips with their characters, as back stories and inner lives seemed to be excluded from the rehearsal process.

It was all the stranger because the understudies had given such life to their performances. I reckon they were probably raising their game – Championship contenders playing Premiership opposition in the Cup – and the influence of the Assistant Director may well have played a part, but in any case, I’m glad I won’t be seeing this again.

P.S. Apropos of my comment for the understudies performance about wondering just how rich Portia is, Steve had an interesting insight today. He realised that Portia wasn’t just rich, she was mega-rich compared to the merchant class of Venice. He reckoned she would have been in the same sort of position as Christina Onassis – too rich to be able to trust anyone, least of all the men who came wooing. This makes her father’s strange arrangement in his will more sensible. He may have realised he wouldn’t be around to vet all the prospective suitors, so set up the tests to weed out the undesirables. Those who went for gold were ruled out, as were those with a bit more wit, but considerable vanity. Only those who were prepared to give everything at the risk of receiving nothing would be worthy of her hand. Given the totally unlikely possibility that the secrets of the caskets would remain secrets in this day and age, when failed suitors would be posting the information on their Facebook page within seconds, it still makes much more sense to me with this new perspective.

Also, apropos of nothing, did Shakespeare set so many of his plays in Catholic countries, especially Italy, so he could get Catholic imagery into his plays more easily? Discuss.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Crown Matrimonial – July 2008

5/10

By Royce Ryton

Directed by David Grindley

Venue: Theatre Royal, Brighton

Date: Tuesday 15th July 2008

This play covers the events leading up to Edward VIII’s abdication from the family’s point of view, and finishes with a final scene set after WW2, when the Duke of Windsor was hoping to come home. The scenes are all set in Queen Mary’s sitting room, so a great deal of the dialogue is reportage. There’s also a fair bit of clunky exposition for those not so familiar with this story, so I found it took some time to get going.

I wasn’t immediately taken with Patricia Routledge as Queen Mary. She didn’t have quite enough authority for me, more of the middle class housewife done up with a load of bling. However, she grew on me as the performance went on. The other actors suffered from the clunky dialogue, cut-glass accents and lack of animation, which suited the characters but was dreadfully dull to watch. There was one good scene when the king turns up for dinner to find one more sister present than he expected. The awkward silence spoke volumes about how the situation was affecting the family, as well as emphasising why David feels the need for Wallis’ company. They could be a stuffy lot, these Windsors.

The scenes in the second half were better as a lot of explanation had already been done and the characters could get on with it more. I found the third scene very moving, where Bertie steps up to take on the role of king, and my eyes were very wet at times. I also enjoyed the earlier scene, where Elizabeth gets to speak her mind about David’s selfishness and how he’s affecting the rest of the family. It’s entertaining, and David does stand up for himself too, but it did go on a bit too long for my liking.

The debates between the characters were occasionally interesting, as they gave an insight into a time when Hitler and Mussolini hadn’t convinced everyone that they were bad news. David came across as an innovator, determined to bring his country and his church into the twentieth century, and even to build up the armed forces to make the country stronger. The opposite perspective is well represented by the Queen Mother and her daughter Mary, who are staunchly in the ‘no change’ camp, and who won’t even meet, or ‘receive’, Wallis Simpson because she’s divorced. Admittedly, her first divorce looks like misfortune, while her second, underway as the characters speak, looks like carelessness. And opportunism. We may never know.

This play was much more charged when it was first produced, as some of the characters were still living. Now that none of them are alive and we’ve had so many documentaries about this issue, it seems a bit stale, not helped by the lack of action and frequently stilted dialogue. There are some good laughs, and the performances were as good as the text would allow them to be, but it may be wise to leave it in mothballs for a good many years to give it more historical interest. Still, it was a good production, and I enjoyed my evening.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

De Montfort – May 2008

5/10

By Joanna Baillie

Directed by Imogen Bond

Venue: Orange Tree Theatre

Date: Thursday 8th May 2008

I’m not quite sure what to make of this play. The characters are interesting, and reasonably well drawn (the performances were, of course, excellent), but the language is so flowery that it sometimes gets in the way. The degree of psychological insight makes it a powerful piece, but the style is not my cup of tea at all. A mixed bag, then.

The set is the simplest I’ve seen at the Orange Tree. A square platform, cut across the corners, with four glass panels to show some uplighting, and stools and a table to tell us which room we’re in. Apart from decoration which looks like someone threw up on the set (speckles of light paint and a wet-look varnish?), this is as basic as it gets. Given the rapid changes of location involved, this was obviously the right choice, and Sam Walters underlined this in the post-show when he said that with a piece that’s new to the audience, it’s important to hold back on the detail and allow the text to speak more directly to the audience.

The setting is a bit vague. It appears to be in Germany, although the location, Amberg(?), is fictional. The director suggested this was because Joanna Baillie needed some remote locations for the play to work, and with the spread of towns and cities at that time in Britain, there were few such remote spots locally that she could use. For once we had consistent period costumes, and given the lack of detail in other areas, I found that helped to stabilise the piece.

The plot concerns the eponymous “hero”, who from childhood has had an unexplained hatred for another man, Count Rezenvelt. We are given a few reasons for this though; De Montfort felt slighted by Rezenvelt, not given his proper due, and Rezenvelt himself admits he was never taken with De Montfort’s pride and  his expectation that others would admire him. Shortly before the action of the play, De Montfort had challenged Rezenvelt to a duel over the flimsiest imagined provocation, and matters went from bad to worse when Rezenvelt not only disarmed De Montfort, but refused to kill him, and wanted to be his friend! This was too much for De Montfort, who ran off, with luggage and servants, only to find Rezenvelt in the very town he was hoping to sulk in.

De Montfort’s sister Jane turns up, and she’s so sweet and gracious that almost everyone falls in love with her at first sight. There’s a lovely bit of comedy when a servant, describing this unknown arrival, goes into lengthy raptures about her beauty, her nobility, the simplicity of her dress, etc. The only person not to join the admiration party is Countess Freberg, an older woman of less than attractive appearance, who nevertheless wants to be admired, at least by her husband. He, poor fool, is the unthinking type, full of good will to his fellow man, and letting us know all about it at full volume.

Jane had been staying with her brother, but left him on his own for a while to visit one of their sisters. He slipped off while she was away, but De Montfort’s servant left her a note so she was able to catch her brother up, and arrives at the Freberg’s house in time to be invited to the party they’re giving. De Montfort, Rezenvelt, and a host of beauties are due to be there, and although she’s reluctant at first, she eventually agrees to attend, provided she wears a heavy veil. Her intention is to sound out her brother, and this she does, by telling the gathering that she, as a veiled lady, has been deserted by her brother. De Montfort, not knowing who she is, gets into one of those “my sister’s a wonderful woman, not that you aren’t” kind of arguments. Then, when Rezenvelt tries to step in on the unknown lady’s side, they’re about to come to blows when Jane reveals herself.

The attempted rapprochement the next day doesn’t help. Despite Jane persuading her brother to at least appear to be reconciled to Rezenvelt, he refuses the offered hug, and simply re-offends with his coldness. At this point we get to hear Rezenvelt’s version of events, and I was glad we did. It would be too easy to take De Montfort’s word for the man’s character flaws, or to completely discount them given De Montfort’s extreme prejudice. However, the antipathy is confirmed by Rezenvelt, and although he claims to have done all he can to be a friend to De Montfort, by now he’s willing to treat him as a sworn enemy.

The Countess Freberg comes back into the picture about this time. She was really upset that so many men, and especially her husband, praised Jane excessively at the party. She’s a woman who tries too hard, and despite her maid’s efforts to flatter her, she resolves to spite the newcomer by putting about a rumour that she didn’t come all that way in difficult weather and over rough terrain to be with her brother, but to find her lover, Rezenvelt. She justifies herself by claiming that the rumour might very well be true, but we saw trouble ahead. Unfortunately, this isn’t a moral piece, so the conniving bitch doesn’t get her comeuppance. Ah well.

De Montfort hears this rumour (of his sister’s lover) from a man seeking his assistance. This newcomer has been told about the animosity between the two men, and reckons he can get help from De Montfort by claiming to have been held back from a promotion by none other than Rezenvelt. De Montfort is eager to pounce on this opportunity, but then the man blows it completely with a passing comment about how Rezenvelt will soon be De Montfort’s relation. De Montfort sends him packing, and then experiences one of those wonderful strokes of luck that so rarely happen in real life but which abound in plays. His servant informs him that Rezenvelt is heading for a very remote house (to see a friend), and will be walking alone, across a wooded area, at night, and it’s a place well known for robbers and murderers. What will De Montfort do? It’s a tough decision, but he’s just the hard-boiled cookie to make it. (Actually, he’s a real softie, which explains why he lost the duel with Rezenvelt – as soon as he realises he’s about to hurt someone he backs off. What a wimp!)

Anyway, his anger carries him through. Rezenvelt is all Pollyanna about the darkness, the hooting owl, the distant tolling of a bell, the risk, etc. The bell is being rung at a nearby nunnery, where the nuns, with some monks, are about to say prayers for a recently deceased sister. Various extra monks arrive, giving us all the news of a dead body, and the deranged murderer, so soon we have both the corpse and its killer on stage, locked in the same small room of the abbey. I found this part less interesting, until Jane turns up, trying to comfort her brother by reassuring him that God forgives all. De Montfort suddenly realises from Jane’s general kindness in grieving for Rezenvelt, that she hadn’t been in love with him, and the full horror of what he’s done grips De Montfort as strongly as his hatred had before. It’s interesting that he doesn’t get to clarify this with his sister; he’s dragged off in chains before they get a chance to talk, and then we hear the reports of his severe illness and death. He dies from being too noble to live with the knowledge of what he’s done, although I suspect heart failure will be the entry on the death certificate.

It’s quite a ride through the emotions, this one, and I found the play not entirely satisfying. However, I did appreciate the intensity created by the production, so that the characters seemed to be colourful and detailed, while the setting was vague and uncluttered. According to the post-show, that was the intention. I enjoyed all the performances, although I particularly liked Christina Greatrex as the Countess Freberg; her character’s dislike for Jane was so clearly visible, as was the effort she had to make to be pleasant at times. Justin Avoth as De Montfort provided a strong central performance. I felt he got across the shades of his character’s darkness very well, and Alice Barclay as Jane was believable as the woman that all fall in love with at first sight. I was distracted occasionally by some noisy people behind us, but on the whole the afternoon passed quickly and pleasantly.

I think I’ve mentioned all the post-show points I can remember in the notes, so I’ll leave it there.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Fram – May 2008

5/10

By Tony Harrison

Directed by Tony Harrison and Bob Crowley

Venue: Olivier Theatre

Date: Thursday 1st May 2008

This was an interesting play, at least for the first half. The subject matter was relatively unknown to me, and the choice of characters seemed really weird until they all came together for the final scene before the interval. Perhaps I should mention here that Sian Phillips’s speech as Sybil Thorndike in that scene nearly put me off my ice cream! (I said nearly.)

The play starts in Westminster Cathedral. There’s a pillar with a marble decorated ledge, two large stained glass windows, one suspended at the front of the stage, the other at the back, and lots of echoing darkness. The stained glass windows were actually projections, which made them easy to remove and replace. The floor was covered with black cloth, also easily removed to reveal the arctic ice. Film projection was used quite a bit, both at the back and on a screen lowered towards the front of the stage. There was also a proscenium arch set with two side boxes, a drawing room type scenario (where Sybil gives her stomach-churning speech), and some good interpretations of snowy wastes. The first of these consisted of a central area with some jagged ice blocks sticking up at an angle, and lots of flat floes around it. The temporary hut was set up beside these blocks. Later, when Nansen and Johansen return to the Arctic, their ship, Fram (means “forward” in Norwegian), rises up majestically out of the floor, as the central part rotates. It was reasonably impressive, but I noticed that the ship’s masts were at right angles to the stage, although the ship itself was angled as if it were a submarine rising from the depths, and at speed. Very peculiar.

The play opens with the sounds of locks being turned, doors creaking open, and footsteps echoing along stone floors – slightly reminiscent of Tales of Old Dartmoor, a Goon classic. Eventually we get to see a character, Gilbert Murray, a dead professor who not only translated ancient Greek dramas into English verse, he also speaks the stuff, and at considerable length. He’s a little miffed that his translation of the Oresteia wasn’t used for the National’s production some years ago (funnily enough, they used Tony Harrison’s instead), but exceedingly miffed to find he’s buried only a short distance from T S Eliot, a man he obviously detested (and who didn’t speak highly of him).  Fortunately he gets another character to explain things to, and this is Sybil Thorndike. He tells her he’s writing a play, in verse, about Fridtjof Nansen, a man they both knew, and there’s a part for her in it. Nothing gets an actress’s attention quicker than that, and despite the total lack of a script, set, costumes, rehearsal time etc, she’s persuaded to join in this ‘improv’ piece. She’s none too happy when she finds her dress is the wrong colour and she’s only in one scene, but those come later. And given the amount of time she does spend on stage (and screen) it’s hardly a bit part.

Anyway, they head off to the National, and the screens at the back show us their progress, including their arrival at the entrance to the auditorium. It’s no surprise when they come down the side aisles, Sybil to our right, Gilbert to our left, although from the audience reaction, you’d have thought this was the first time it had ever been done.

I should mention that canned applause was used frequently throughout the production, and it’s a good job too, as this audience seemed reluctant to play the part of the audience within the play. With one notable exception, we restrained ourselves from laughing, clapping, oohing and ahhing as much as possible – I suspect I would have enjoyed the play more if the audience had been a bit more giving. In fact, there were noticeable gaps amongst us for the second half, and I don’t usually see so many folk leave during the applause at the end. From the first scene, I felt there were jokes that didn’t get a suitable response, and Steve and I reckon those who came just weren’t expecting so much humour. Ah well.

Once Gilbert and Sybil were on stage (again), there was some faffing about with a Greek tragedy mask before we get to meet the subject of the play, Fridtjof Nansen. The screen comes down, and we see a slide projected onto it – Nansen is giving a talk about his Arctic experiences. He gives us a reasonably long opening spiel, introduces us to his colleague from the ice, Johansen, then repeats the opening bit twice more, as slides for his talks in Newcastle and Aberdeen appear on either side of the London one. At least the audience was warming up a bit by this time, so we got a chance to laugh at the humour of the repetition.

The screen at the front also covered up the set changes behind, so when Nansen moves from slide show to dramatic reconstruction, all that’s needed is for the screen to lift, and for the black cloth to be surreptitiously whisked off to the wings, like some dead body being dragged away by an alien creature on Doctor Who.

Nansen and Johansen showed us their ‘roomy’ hut (it was tiny), their bear fur sleeping bag which they planned to split in two now they had the luxury of separate sides of the hut, and their complete inability to communicate with each other. They were described as each other’s opposite, with Johansen being the dark side of Nansen’s soul. Personally I wouldn’t have wanted to spend much time with either of them by choice, but I can see how extreme need makes for stranger bedfellows than ordinary necessity. Nansen believed that, as the seas were cooling, the planet would end up covered in ice and snow – everywhere would be like the Arctic. It’s a chilling prospect, though shot through with irony given current concerns about the climate, and it made him a less than comfortable companion. Johansen puts the blame for his own suicide squarely on Nansen’s shoulders; he claims it was the depressing effect of Nansen’s beliefs that led to his drinking and terminal despair. I can see the man’s point. However, being dead means nothing in this play, where ghosts have a remarkably physical presence, so Johansen isn’t gone. Oh no, he becomes Nansen’s conscience and biggest critic, and probably gets more lines in that role than he did when he was (supposedly) alive.

Nansen’s successful trip meant he was welcomed back to Norway as a great hero. His achievement (he reached furthest north) was surpassed a few years later, so he also faced the challenge of despair and discouragement. However, he avoided the bullet, and chose instead to focus his energies on helping the rest of humanity in any way he could. This leads to the scene in a open-plan drawing room, which was using the very slow revolve to subtly change the perspective. It took me some time to spot, and I find that sort of thing helpful in what are otherwise quite static scenes. Various characters were present, all deeply involved in the relief effort for Russian famine victims. There’s some debate about the best way forward – film, radio, newspapers, acting – and the scorn heaped on the influence of the actors is so great that Sybil has to show them what she’s made of. Her moving speech as a starving Russian woman and mother was a little too long, but was also tremendously powerful, and even stomach-churning. The descriptions of eating cooked human flesh have stayed with me longer than I would like, and her wrecking of the buffet was entirely appropriate, if somewhat messy. Delivered as it was by a well-nourished, well-dressed woman, this speech ably demonstrated the power of performance to move people, and Sian Thomas got the loudest round of applause for her superb acting when Sybil made her triumphant exit.

The second half showed us Nansen’s tour to raise awareness and funds to help with the famine relief effort. He was using the slide show again, only this time the pictures were horrific and sadly not unknown today. He left, and Johansen’s ghost harangued us for a while, exhorting us to look at the pictures in case one of the dead bodies moved. He also stomped off, leaving us with the picture of two dead bodies, supposedly a brother and sister. After a very long pause, there was indeed some movement, which was startling, but I have no idea what any of that was supposed to convey to the audience.

From there, Gilbert and Sybil returned to Westminster Abbey, and after reviling T S Eliot some more, they were interrupted by a Kurdish poet with his mouth sewn up (don’t ask me). He struggled to express himself, and that was that. For a final scene, we get to see Nansen and Johansen on the ice again, this time on Fram, as it rose up from the depths. God knows what that bit was about. Nansen meets a couple of African kids, who’ve apparently been frozen to death because they stowed away in the undercarriage recess on a plane, and were taken too high to survive. The idea of these two being explorers of the frozen air appeals to Nansen; didn’t do it for me, though.

There was also a ballet during the first half, an actual ballet, inspired by Nansen’s drawings of the aurora borealis. It went on too long for me, as ballet has never been my thing, although I’m sure the dancer did a great job.

The ooh moment came during Nansen’s second slide show. To soften us up, he commented that when he showed his pictures of the animals on his arctic expeditions, it was only in England that people went… and the audience this time obliged with an “ahh” (a particularly lovely husky was on the screen at that point).

The performances were all fine, given the tedious nature of some of the dialogue, and the confusing jumble of symbolism and realistic, biography and fantasy. The constant use of rhyming couplets can jar after a while, especially when the rhymes are emphasised, as they often were here. There were a lot of in jokes, mainly to do with the Olivier itself, and although we got most of them, it did take the emphasis completely away from the subject matter, assuming the subject matter was something to do with Nansen and his career. The time spent on the ice was less than I’d expected from the pre-publicity, especially as almost all the photos used that part of the set. It was spectacular enough, although not the only good aspect of the set design.

Overall, it was a disappointing play with some good scenes, which could do with some serious editing if it wants a life beyond the Olivier stage.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Dangerous Obsession – April 2008

5/10

By N J Crisp

Directed by Ian Dickens

Company: Ian Dickens Productions

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Thursday 3rd April 2008

Neither Steve nor I could decide whether we knew what was coming in this play because we’d seen it before, many years ago, or whether it was just too easy to spot the plot. It’s possible we’ve already seen it, but in any case the twists were pretty obvious if you’ve seen a lot of thrillers. There was an adulterous husband, a wronged wife, the vengeful husband, a gun, and a conservatory. All good fun, but not particularly demanding.

David Callister, whom we’ve seen in many Ian Dickens productions, was good as the wronged husband. He managed to get across a real sense of menace from a character who’s quite mundane in other respects. The other two actors were fine and we enjoyed ourselves well enough, though I don’t think I’ll be straining at the leash to see this one again.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Days Of Significance – March 2008

5/10

By Roy Williams

Directed by Maria Aberg

Company: RSC

Venue: Tricycle Theatre

Date: Wednesday 26th March 2008

This was something of a disappointment, although it was better than the previous adaptation. The theatre was decked out with a lot of paraphernalia. Metal stairs on the left of the stage led up to a door, which seemed to be the entrance to the club that the young folk were at, while a door below this was the public loos. There was a bench in the middle of the stage, and to the right was a sketchy burger stand. There was a recessed area on the right hand side of the stage, which later became part of a building that the soldiers are hiding in. There are lots of neon signs everywhere, and the setting is clearly contemporary.

The play is based on Much Ado About Nothing, and the plot of that play is pretty much seen off in the first half. Several of the young men have joined up, and are off to Iraq or Afghanistan the next day. The young women are just out for a good time, with no strings attached, but one of them, Hannah, falls for one of the guys. Another of the women overhears her telling her cousin about this in confidence, and she rushes off to blab to the first pair of ears she can find. It’s all resolved by the end of this part, though, so the couple are back together again, while the cousin, playing the Beatrice role, is obviously taken with another of the blokes, for all her loud mouthed ways. There’s also a couple of police constables – one man, one woman – who have to take a lot of flak from the rowdy element, but who do help to sort out the misunderstanding. So all the main characters are there, then, including Hannah’s father who runs the burger bar.

The language was pretty ripe throughout this play, as we expected, but nothing to put us off. The tougher stuff was the battle scenes in the second part. We saw some video footage on a screen (there were several dotted around), where the blokes were sending messages home, or talking about their experiences. There’s a scene where they’re in the building, having been ambushed by some hostile forces. This shows the way the attitudes have changed and relationships developed, differently than they would have back home. Then the final scene is set at a wedding, and Hannah’s chap has been sent back in disgrace having been caught doing something too extreme to tolerate, at least once it’s been made public.

There’s a lot of tension around, and the effects of the fighting and the political situation are covered to a certain extent, but overall I found this section lacked any real punch. We’ve seen this stuff on the news, and so there has to be more to engage me with these characters and their stories. I did enjoy a fair bit of the afternoon’s performance though, and the actors themselves did a good job with what they had, so I was happier at the end than I had been with the previous offering. It’s always risky taking on Will on his home turf (the theatre), as comparisons are both inevitable and “odorous”, but this might have worked better if the reworking of the Much Ado plot had supported the rest of the story more.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Turn Of The Screw – March 2008

5/10

By Henry James, adapted by Ali Gorton

Directed by Ali Gorton

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Thursday 13th March 2008

I nearly gave this a 3/10 rating, as the first half was very weak. It picked up in the second half though, and so I felt that overall a 5/10 rating was just appropriate.

There were a number of problems with the production. The set was another portmanteau effort, which seemed too jumbled to give me any real sense of place most of the time. The scene down by the lake was good, with some of the furniture removed, and mist billowing out across the stage and auditorium, but otherwise I found the locations quite confusing. Added to this was the lighting, which was often dim. For good reason admittedly, but it still made it harder to see what was going on. The story was told in a strange sequence, with the last scene chronologically shown first, then a flashback to the governess being offered her post, then another flashback to when the two servants were alive, then a flash forward to the governess’s arrival at the house. Knowing the story reasonably well, I wasn’t too worried, but I did wonder how someone who didn’t know it would get on.

Apart from that, there were some odd effects, such as having one of the lights flash on and off rapidly. It was presumably meant to tell us something about the ghostly apparitions, but I certainly didn’t get anything from it. And the horrendous wig the previous governess was wearing was only scary in the humorous sense. But the biggest problem was in the delivery of the lines. Again, I knew the story fairly well, so I was able to get by, and perhaps a headset would have helped a bit, but unfortunately Honeysuckle Weeks showed a distinct lack of vocal prowess in this part. She gabbled a lot of her lines as if she were in a race. We had started fifteen minutes late, and I briefly wondered if they were hurrying to catch up the lost time, but it was just the pace they were playing it at. Her voice definitely needs to be developed if she’s going to do much on the stage. [18/9/11 Seen her several times since and she’s been fine – don’t know what went wrong tonight]

Despite that, she got across a good picture of a highly strung young woman of a romantic disposition, used to her own family, who gets caught up in the atmosphere of the first house she goes to work in. The possibility of the ghosts being entirely in her imagination is one that was new to Steve, though I’d come across it before in a TV adaptation, and it’s well presented here. Personally I think there’s a bit of both options going on. The two servants have left an emotional legacy which has been ignored up to now, and the sensitive governess picks up on this and takes it further than she has any right to, making serious misjudgements along the way. There were some scary moments – I held Steve’s arm for a while – and the death scene was well done, so the evening ended better than it had begun.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me