Category Archives: 7/10

The Charity That Began At Home – January 2012

7/10

By St. John Hankin

Directed by Auriol Smith

Venue: Orange Tree Theatre

Date: Thursday 12th January 2012

This was an enjoyable drawing-room comedy set in Edwardian England, showing the effects of good intentions gone too far. Lady Denison has invited an odd assortment of ‘difficult’ people to her country mansion for a few weeks’ stay. There’s General Bonsor, who could bore for Britain; Mrs Horrocks, ditto and with social pretensions to boot; Mr Firket, an unctuous little man who keeps trying to sell things to Lady Denison – a billiard table, a car, etc. – all the while promising large discounts from the regular price; Miss Triggs, a German governess (that’s a governess who teaches German) with a pronounced forward stoop and brusque manner; and Mr Verreker, an orphan who’s estranged from his uncle and whose departure from the army is as yet unexplained. Along with these we have Mr Hylton, whose views on the need to extend charity to those we don’t like have led Lady Denison to invite these people down, and Mrs Eversleigh, Lady Denison’s sister-in-law, whose forthright, practical and somewhat judgemental views counterpoint Mr Hylton’s perfectly. Add in Margery, Lady Denison’s daughter who is even more focused on helping others than her mother, and Soames, a butler whose lack of references led to Lady Denison hiring him, and you have all the ingredients necessary for an almost Wildean comedy of manners.

We got our first explanation of Lady Denison’s unusual invitation policy when she had a conversation with her sister-in-law shortly after she arrived. Mrs Eversleigh wasn’t impressed by what she heard, and was scornful of Mr Hylton and his ideas until she found out that he was actually well off, with a house in the country, and before you know it she decided that Lady Denison was simply going along with these crazy but relatively harmless notions in order to snare Mr Hylton as a husband for Margery, a plan of which she thoroughly approved. Lady Denison protested her innocence in vain; Mrs Eversleigh was very impressed by her tactical astuteness in the marriage stakes.

If we ignore William’s attempt to give her ladyship his notice shortly before tea, the first cracks in this perfection began to appear when Lady Denison’s maid, Anson, confessed off stage to being with child, the culprit (i.e. father) being Soames. Lady Denison naturally wanted her sister in law’s help to decide what to do, but she also wanted Mr Hylton’s views as well; she was finding this constant philanthropy difficult to keep up. She also wanted Anson to stop sniffling, and eventually sent her out of the room so she could sniffle elsewhere. Soames was relatively unrepentant, though he was happy to marry Anson if he could; sadly he was already married, so no solution there. Hylton was all for giving the man another chance, while Mrs Eversleigh was adamant that he should go (Anson could go back to her mother’s, apparently), and so the final decision was up to Lady Denison, who hated making decisions. Finally, she remembered the importance of charity and Soames stayed. I forget what happened to change this, perhaps the cook planning to give her notice, but the first half ended with Lady Denison changing her mind and deciding to dismiss Soames.

The next crack was a bit larger, and rocked even Mr Hylton to his core. It started with some news from the General about Mr Verreker, which he had learned from an old friend of his, a colonel in Verreker’s old regiment. Apparently Verreker misappropriated some of the mess money, and when his botched attempt to cover it up came to light, he was forced to resign. The way the General delivered this information was priceless. Move over, Polonius, and make room for a real windbag. It was lovely the way the general kept drifting off the point into irrelevant connections – who was married to whom, what year it was, etc. Lady Denison kept bringing him back to the point and we got the information eventually, but we also had a lot of laughs along the way.

Just as this information came to light, Margery and Mr Verreker arrived back in the drawing room. They’d been out for a walk with Miss Triggs and Mrs Horrocks, but Verreker had twisted his ankle, poor dear, and so Margery helped him back to the house. I’m assuming it was clear to everyone watching that this ‘twisted ankle’ was on a par with many footballing injuries, which appear to cause great suffering at the time, but can be recovered from in a split second if need be. The real bombshell was about to be dropped; Margery couldn’t wait to tell her mother the good news – she and Hugh (Verreker) were engaged!

For once, even Mr Hylton was against the engagement. His affection for Margery, clearly unexpressed, led him to argue fiercely that Verreker was not good enough for Margery, and Mrs Eversleigh had the unusual experience of agreeing with him. Lady Denison was suddenly decisive for once, and also insisted that Margery call off the engagement at once. But Margery was adamant; after all, she’d been brought up to believe that there’s nothing more important in life than helping others, so naturally she sees marriage as a way of helping some unfortunate man to improve himself. There would be no point in her marrying a good man, as he wouldn’t need the help she can give. And she already knows all about Verreker’s army experience – he cunningly told her all about it earlier, so that she would know the worst about him. To benefit the rest of us, he goes over his story again, and when he stood up to do this, Steve reckoned Margery looked at him a bit strangely, as if she couldn’t quite understand where his limp had gone.

Verreker’s version of his story naturally put him in a better light, but even so, Lady Denison was still keen to prevent the engagement. Hylton had changed his mind, though; he was back to his charitable ways and now supported the engagement, apologising for his rudeness earlier. With his backing, Lady Denison gave grudging consent, and as peace appeared to be breaking out, Mrs Eversleigh attempted to throw a spanner in the works by revealing to Verreker the real reason for his, and the others’ invitation to the house. He was very amused by it all, but unfortunately he decided to tell the General about it, to get back at him for grassing him up. As he explained the charitable philosophy behind the visitors’ invitations, he failed to notice Mrs Horrocks and Miss Triggs coming into the room behind him, and so they also found out the cruel truth – that they were invited not because they were wanted, but because they weren’t! (Mr Firket had already left, I assume, as I hadn’t seen him in this scene at all.)

Naturally these folk all left by the next train, so there were only five people left for dinner, and this was where the set was changed (see below). Verreker talked a lot in this scene, mainly about the tiring day he’s had helping Margery with her good works. There was a short power cut during which the candles came in very handy, and we learned that the chap in charge of the new-fangled generator was another of the lame ducks, prone to drinking. He’d improved, apparently, and soon the lights came back on – very helpful.

After the ladies left the men alone, they had a frank conversation about Margery and the likely future for Verreker and her after their marriage. Verreker had begun to realise what life with Margery would be like, and actually did the most charitable act of the whole play – he asked Margery to break off their engagement, as it would be miserable for the pair of them in a very short time. His comments about unhappy marriages were very perceptive, and again some of the ideas expressed seemed very modern in approach, but we’re used to being ‘surprised’ by Victorian and earlier works. Margery was a stubborn girl, for all her sweetness, but finally she had to agree to Verreker’s request. It was a difficult thing for her to understand, because despite her earnest desire to help others she really had very little understanding of other people’s lives. With Verreker confessing that he was actually only concerned for her, as he knew that he’d be alright regardless, the play ended, and we were able to show our appreciation.

With such a large cast, I found my view was blocked more than usual at the Orange Tree, but they really couldn’t help it. I was still able to follow the various reactions, and get much of the humour, and although it was a very gentle satire on posh do-gooders, there were a lot of funny lines, well delivered. The casual cruelty of the upper classes towards their servants – telling Anson to stop sniffling, for example – was contrasted with the declared intention to make the world a happier place, and the unintended consequences of their actions made for a good deal of the humour. The performances were excellent, as usual, and I found myself thinking about the situation a lot on the trip home, with more ideas and connections coming up all the time. It’s nice to find such an apparently gentle play has so much to it.

The set for the drawing room (first three scenes) consisted of ornate furniture on all sides; sofa, chairs, side tables and a plush rug in the middle of the floor. There were Wedgwood-style panels above three of the regular entrances and a horsy picture above the main entrance. The two regular entrances on the far side had been blocked off with seats, and two doorways, complete with fancy swags and muslin drapes, stood square on to the stage. There were two clusters of wall lights on the side panels on the opposite diagonal to the main entrance. On one of the tables sat a basket with some crochet in it – nice blue wool – and I did spot a bell push on one of the posts by the main entrance.

The dining room setting for the final scene was on a similar basis, with a central table, five chairs, a sideboard, another serving table, two large candles and the remnants of the final course. The real joy was in the way they changed the set over. I’ve commented on the way the Orange Tree do this sort of thing before (Chains); today we saw the servants come on and remove the sitting room furnishings that were no longer needed and replace them with the dining room necessaries. Several of them were played by cast members who had played guests in the earlier scenes – the cook had been Mrs Horrocks, while the housekeeper had been the governess – and they each brought a touch of character to the process. I felt like applauding at the end of it, but they were quickly into the scene itself, so we didn’t.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Truman Capote Talk Show – December 2011

7/10

Written and performed by Bob Kingdom

Venue: Mill Studio

Date: Friday 16th December 2011

I loved this performance from the word go, when Truman Capote appeared at the side of the stage, posing by the curtain while the music played and Frank Sinatra sang (New York, New York, as I recall). Bob Kingdom did a very good job of impersonating Truman Capote, at least as far as I could tell, and we were soon hooked into the life story of this unusual, talented writer. He structured it round the four stages of fame –

1. Who’s Truman Capote?

2. Get me Truman Capote.

3. Get me someone like Truman Capote.

4. Who’s Truman Capote?

His delivery made it very funny.

The life story was mostly new to me, but it was very interesting, and told with a dry, bitchy humour that was very refreshing. I felt there was a lot more humour than the audience responded to, even though the man sitting next to me was clearly a Truman Capote fan, as were one or two others in the audience. It’s even inspired me to check out Breakfast At Tiffany’s and one or two of the short stories.

The lighting changes and sound effects worked very well, and I liked the fact that he talked to us as the ghost of Truman Capote, knowing full well that he was dead. He refused to go into details of the afterlife, which left more time for the important stuff we’d come to see – him, basically. At the end, he did a trailer for his new piece about Dylan Thomas, and I’m torn. I’m not a Dylan Thomas fan, but this performance was so good, even I might be converted. Or at least entertained. For now, though, this was a good evening out, and I hope it comes round again, for all that it’s been advertised as a farewell tour.

© 2011 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Richard II – December 2011

7/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Michael Grandage

Venue: Donmar Warehouse

Date: Thursday 15th December 2011

This was an interesting production, a reasonably clear version of the story which placed the emphasis on the political situation. The set had lots of Gothic arches, there was a carved stairway on the right hand side, the wood had a distressed effect, and there was a strong smell of incense as we entered. The costumes had a strong mediaeval influence. Richard himself sat on a throne towards the back of the stage in the centre, and stayed there, motionless, till the play actually started.

The performance began with several young men coming on, kneeling before him, and then taking their place behind him, first one, then another. These were Bushy, Bagot, Green and Aumerle. Then the Duke of York and the Queen entered together and curtsied, and finally the Lord Marshall and John of Gaunt took up their positions in the front corners of the stage. It was a slow start, and with such a wordy play there’s a need for a brisk pace to keep the energy levels up. This production didn’t do too badly in that department, thankfully, and with the political aspects being brought out so strongly it felt like a political thriller at times, which helped to keep me involved.

The mention of Gloucester’s death troubled the king and his supporters, though he recovered well. Eddie Redmayne played the king as an effete young man, aware of his power and impatient of the old-fashioned niceties. He stood in poses, like a mannequin which could move, and this allowed for a clear change once he’d lost power and his movements became more natural. Having failed to make peace between Bolingbroke and Mowbray, the date for the duel is set and the king leaves.

The widowed Duchess of Gloucester’s complaints to her brother, John of Gaunt, were clear, and again the point about Richard himself being responsible for his uncle’s death came across strongly. Sian Thomas doubled this part with the Duchess of York, and did both very well. The duel scene had the king and his companions up on the balcony, with the combatants and the Lord Marshall down below. I think there was a lot of cutting here, as it didn’t seem to be as long as my text indicates. Richard came down to say his farewells to both Bolingbroke and Mowbray, and then returned to the balcony. The knights put on their armour, including big helmets, and strode off stage for the fight, one at each corner. When Richard threw his baton down, the knights had to come back on stage, while the king had a huddled conference with his court up above. The banishing was over with quickly, and then Richard tried to be kind to his uncle in reducing Bolingbroke’s sentence by four years. The smile on his face suggested he expected his generosity to be well received, but John of Gaunt wasn’t impressed. The father and son leave-taking was edited down, and soon we’re back with the court, and Aumerle’s cheeky comments about Bolingbroke’s departure. Richard’s dislike of his cousin, his willingness to use any means necessary to raise money, and his delight at the prospect of John of Gaunt’s death, all came across loud and clear.

The Dukes of York and Lancaster were having a good bitch-fest in the next scene – does Richard have any friends amongst his family? John of Gaunt’s main speech was excellent. The central part is such a well-known piece, it can sometimes seem like a couple of verses of Land of Hope and Glory, losing the context of those lines completely. Here, Michael Hadley kept the thought going through the entire speech: this country is wonderful, and look how he’s buggered it up! When Richard arrived, he kept up the harangue, and again Richard wasn’t too pleased with him. Even so, his abrupt change of subject to the Irish wars after a brief moment to acknowledge Gaunt’s death, was both funny and shocking, leading to York’s strong outburst against the theft of Bolingbroke’s inheritance. Richard’s choice of York to act as regent in his absence was quite funny in these circumstances.

After the king departed, the remaining lords start the plotting that will eventually put a new king on the throne. Again, this scene was well cut to leave a strong impression of the political storyline. The next scene, with the queen, Bushy and Bagot learning about the invasion of Bolingbroke, was fine, and Ron Cook, as the Duke of York, gave a lovely performance of an elderly man who just can’t get his head round what’s going on.

Northumberland’s flattery of Bolingbroke wasn’t really commented on in this performance, although it still seemed over the top to me. Hotspur was remarkably restrained for once, and the Duke of York was wonderfully stroppy at first when he arrived, ticking off his nephew like he was a naughty schoolboy. The others stood up to him pretty well, and of course he’s not able to actually do anything in military terms to stop them. He was almost off the stage before he invited them in to his castle for the night.

I think this was where they took the interval. Richard had come onto the balcony around the start of this scene, and as it progressed, he moved forward and stood at the railing, hands held in a pose of prayer. As the scene ended, he was held in a spotlight for a few seconds before the lights went out. The play restarted with Salisbury trying to keep his Welsh troops together and failing, followed by the execution of Bushy and Green – don’t remember how or if they staged these executions.

Richard’s return to England was well done. He still had the haughty attitude to begin with, but as he went through the various levels of despair, that shifted, and by his final exit he looked resigned to having lost the crown. I liked Phillip Joseph’s Bishop of Carlisle very much in this scene; he watched Richard approvingly when the king talked about his divine right to rule – “if angels fight, weak men must fall, for heaven still guards the right” – and chided him strongly when he was in despair. Richard’s “sad stories of the death of kings” came across very well, as did the remaining ups and downs of this scene.

The rest of the story trundled through quite well. The Duchess of York was the queen’s companion in the garden, which worked very well for me, and again the political points were very clear. There was some humour in the gauntlet-flinging episode, though not as much as I’ve known before, and the deposition scene was fine. Richard held the crown up across the throne, and told Bolingbroke to “seize the crown”, as usual. Bolingbroke hesitated, so Richard continued with “on this side my hand, and on that side thine” – then Bolingbroke took hold of the other side. The mirror speech was good too, and then Richard heads off to the tower, the new king leaves the stage, and another plot starts up.

Richard and his queen take their leave of each other, and then there’s the Aumerle pardoning sequence, which they did OK, not as funny as some I’ve seen, but still enjoyable enough. When the Duchess got up off her knees, she leaned on her husband’s shoulder, and stopped him getting up; in fact, she nearly flattened him! That was a nice touch.

For the Pomfret scene, I wasn’t sure if they were doubling the groom and Aumerle because of the restricted number of actors, or if it was meant to be Aumerle in disguise. The way the king hugged him after throwing back his hood suggested it was. The speeches were OK, but I didn’t get anything extra out of them; the political stuff was all done by this time, so the play lost a little focus at the end. The final scene, with the deaths of the conspirators who wanted Henry dead, was fine. A coffin was brought on to represent Richard’s body, but we didn’t get a peek inside. We were a pretty appreciative audience, and we gave them plenty of applause, which they well deserved.

It’s difficult, after the intense and richly detailed experience of the Michael Boyd History Cycle, to view many of these plays as isolated works. The depth and interconnectedness of the full cycle can lead to one-off productions seeming weak by comparison (although Richard III usually overcomes this). I did like the political focus in this version, but there was a lack of the personal aspects which made it less enjoyable than some other productions we’ve seen. The cast were all fine – Andrew Buchan did a good job with the part of Henry Bolingbroke, even though there wasn’t a lot for him to do – but overall the performance didn’t sparkle. It was still interesting and fairly enjoyable, so not a bad final production for Michael Grandage.

© 2011 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Debt Collectors – December 2011

7/10

By John Godber

Directed by John Godber

Venue: Minerva Theatre

Date: Thursday 1st December 2011

This is a new piece by John Godber which apparently started life as a TV comedy drama, but when the TV executives couldn’t understand that drama could also have humour in it, John cancelled the telly idea and rewrote it for the stage. I’m glad he did.

The set was a bit confusing at first. Around the back of the stage were a load of theatre flats, some facing towards us so we could see the painted scenery, some facing away. To the back left of the stage, in splendid isolation, was a door, and towards the front on the right were a chair and a packing crate filled with stuff. Further back from that was a desk and chair, while there was another chair front left. An old typewriter in its case sat on the desk, and there were a cello, petrol cans, a bath, a step ladder and other paraphernalia scattered around. Many of these items came into play during the performance.

The story started off with two men, Spud and Loz, wandering around the backstage area of a theatre, a theatre which they’d both performed in several years ago in The Dumb Waiter. With their acting careers foundering, despite Spud’s stint on The Bill some years earlier, they have to find work elsewhere and both end up as debt collectors, working for a Ukrainian woman who buys up lots of debts and needs extra staff to do the collecting. They’re now back at the theatre in this new capacity, looking to collect on a debt of £17,000 for wood, and waiting to meet the owner.

Before long, Loz starts talking to the audience, explaining how he would tell the story of their career change, and thus he becomes our narrator for the evening, taking us right up to the present day with the two of them arriving back at the theatre. Through his choice of scenes, we learn of their first stumbling efforts to rake in the cash – they end up paying £20 a week each to help out one old chap who can’t afford to repay his debts – then about the changes in their personal lives and the gradual toughening up of their attitudes. Given the subject matter, there are a lot of topical references to the current difficult financial situation, and although some of the play is serious and quite moving at times, it’s never heavy, and there are plenty of laughs along the way.

Spud starts the play with a bandaged foot, an accompanying limp, and a plaster on his nose. How he got those injuries leads to some of the best humour of the evening – he shot himself in the foot, literally – and the injuries reappear as we get closer to the present within the play. The two actors cover all the parts between them, and although we never get to see their employer or Spud’s ex-wife, there were several other characters to flesh out the story, including the elderly gent who ends up getting money from them instead of repaying it.

The stuff lying around backstage becomes the various locations. There’s a lovely scene where they’ve entered a house – the door was open – and were looking round for the occupant. Spud goes upstairs by means of climbing part way up the step ladder, and starts looking around up there. He finds the woman who lives there in the bath, dead – a nasty moment. Loz went part way up the stairs/ladder, but decided he didn’t fancy seeing a dead body and left quickly, followed by Spud. I loved the way we were allowed to use our imaginations in this play, and it was commented on in the post-show.

When the two of them were sitting in a car (two chairs) getting ready to do some work in the posh part of town, they spot Spud’ ex-wife in another car with her new bloke, and from the description, it’s clear what’s she’s up to (or should that be down to?). Spud is horrified, and later gets hold of a gun which he uses to threaten the other man, a lawyer. His assumption that the gun isn’t loaded proves to be wrong, unfortunately for him, but very funny for the rest of us.

Once we’re back up-to-date, Loz has a finally wobbly which involved throwing petrol all round the place, and that’s when we find out about his secret suffering. With petrol dripping off him, he gets a phone call from their boss – turns out they were waiting in the wrong place. Loz makes an effort to smarten himself up, only partially successful, and then they head off for the meeting. It was a good ending, and brought the story full circle.

There was a post-show again tonight. I’ve noticed that these are being announced by a member of the cast as they take their final bows, and it seems to be keeping more people back to join in, a good thing. John Godber was present, and we learned a good deal about his working methods, particularly the writer/director dynamic! Rob Hudson and William Ilkley joined us as well, and John told us he’d written the parts specifically with them in mind. I commented on the way John always makes us care about the characters, even if we wouldn’t necessarily want to spend time with them in real life. He felt that was an essential part of the writer’s job; if he didn’t care about them, he wouldn’t be able to write about them. The actors felt this was one of John’s strengths as a writer, and made it easier to recognise the characters as real people. His dialogue was a bugger to learn, though, and with him directing as well, there was no chance of fiddling it.

Apparently we were a very good audience tonight, almost a Hull audience, we were so responsive compared to the matinee folk. Frankly, with a performance so entertaining, it was a real pleasure to be there.

© 2011 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Importance Of Being Earnest – October 2011

7/10

By Oscar Wilde

Directed by Stephen Unwin

Venue: Rose Theatre, Kingston

Date: Saturday 29th October 2011

This was the Rose’s own production, and they made a good stab at this old favourite. Unfortunately the audience wasn’t ‘in the giving vein’, so some of the humour fell flat. We enjoyed ourselves and although it wasn’t the best we’ve seen, it was a well-balanced production with good performances all round.

The set was by Hayden Griffin but looked like a Simon Higlett special, with the large picture frame straddling the set. The frame’s distressed gilt finish was picked up on the door frames to left and right of the stage, and along the front of the stage as well. Algernon’s flat was furnished with a sofa and tables on the left and a heap of cushions with an upright chair and drinks table on the other side. Double doors at the back and plenty of rugs on the floor completed the scene. The garden had the table and chairs on the right – Merriman had a larger table brought out for the tea things – and a hanging branch behind the frame on the left. Cecily used a real watering can to water imaginary flowers, and the Canon and Miss Prism strolled off through the auditorium for their little perambulation. The drawing room had the usual seats, while a large bookcase centre back held the necessary reference works. It was all nice and simple and, with the elegant costumes, very effective.

Kirsty Besterman gave a lovely performance as Gwendolen; she’ll be as tough as her mother in no time. This was Jenny Rainsford’s first professional role, playing Cecily, and she did a fine job, matching the rest of the cast perfectly. Daniel Brocklebank and Bruce Mackinnon as Earnest/Jack and Algernon were not picked for the similarity of their looks – Daniel is shorter and dark, with regular features, while Bruce is much taller with lighter hair and an agile face made for comedy. Even so, their performances worked very well together.

Ishia Bennison as Miss Prism and Richard Cordery as Canon Chasuble gave nicely detailed performances in these minor roles, while Walter Van Dyk gave Merriman a Scottish accent and slicked down hair to contrast with Lane, who had fluffier hair and an English accent. I always enjoy Lane’s little dig about ‘ready money’ – this was no exception.

Of course the big question hanging over this play is how Lady Bracknell will be played. Jane Asher is almost too good-looking to play such a battleaxe, but her performance overcame that minor difficulty very well. She skipped nimbly over the ‘handbag’ hurdle to get a good run up to the ‘railway station’, which she delivered with astonishment bordering on distaste. Her predatory instincts regarding a prospective suitor’s qualities, especially those which are ‘in the funds’, were great fun to watch.

© 2011 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

My City – October 2011

7/10

By: Stephen Poliakoff

Directed by: Stephen Poliakoff

Venue: Almeida Theatre

Date: Wednesday 26th October 2011

Stephen Poliakoff is very good at evoking memories, and this play has more than its fair share. When Richard finds his former head teacher lying on a bench by the river, this chance encounter triggers a memory-fest for characters and audience alike. It’s fascinating to look at the layers of memories, the different perceptions we have when we’re young, and of course the different memories each person can have of the same event, and the different meanings those memories evoke.

The overall story was another simple one, though there were a lot of other stories told during it. After Richard meets Miss Lambert on the bench, he gives her his mobile number, as he wants to keep in touch. She’s more enigmatic about that, but does arrange to meet him and Julie, another former pupil who’s been friends with Richard since school. They meet up in a bar at the top of a huge shopping mall, and after a while arrange to meet again an hour later down in the subterranean depths of the same mall. Miss Lambert spends her nights wandering around London, and this strange behaviour, plus his fond memories, have hooked Richard into finding out more.

Downstairs they find that Mr Minken and Miss Summers are also joining them for a drink. Quite a lot of drink, in fact. These were two other teachers from the same school whom we’ve already met through flashbacks showing us Miss Lambert’s unusual style of school assembly. I don’t remember any of my teachers impersonating large dogs or big black birds during our school assemblies – would have been more fun if they had. Mr Minkin is carrying a suitcase, and explains that he’s clearing his brother’s house out. The suitcase has the things he’s keeping, and these are all old toys he had when and his brother were growing up – as in the assemblies, the toys are used to help tell more stories.

Eventually Mr Minken offers to make supper for the whole group – he’s an excellent cook – and so Richard and Julie find themselves in another basement, this one so close to the underground that they can hear the rumble of trains quite clearly through the walls. A cornucopia of childhood memories is stored in this room, including many of the large pictures which a whole class had made together. There are also some slides and a recording of Richard and Julie doing one of their presentations to an assembly. With Richard’s story of his successful career crumbling, Miss Summers leaves, and then the rest go to a 24-hour café to continue their nocturnal journey. When Julie leaves to take Mr Minken home, Richard and Miss Lambert are left to have the final confrontation, one which will hopefully heal some of her pain and bring her back to the light that she’s been avoiding.

So it’s a ramble through the past, as is usual with Poliakoff. What makes this play interesting is the story-telling aspects. Miss Lambert is particularly prone to telling little stories throughout the play, and during the assembly ones she encourages the children (i.e. us) to listen to the sounds they can hear outside the classroom. It’s amazing how powerful these sounds can be in bringing pictures to mind, and the sound effects were very well done. Many of the stories seemed unbelievable at first, but Poliakoff is known for his research into little known areas of history, so I would guess that they were mostly based on reality. [After checking the program notes, only the Titus Meredith story was entirely made up.]

I found the story-telling so good, in fact, that I felt the energy of the play dropped a bit in the second half. We had been kept in suspense, wondering what had caused Miss Lambert to become nocturnal. We toyed with the idea that she and her fellow teachers were deliberately finding old pupils and sorting their lives out in some way, even going so far as to bump them off perhaps (Sweeney Todd’s still a bit fresh in the memory). Once the real story started to come out, I felt a bit deflated; it was much more fun having the possibilities in front of us compared to the relatively dull reality. It was still interesting, though not as much.

The set was amazing, with lots of different locations created very quickly with lighting effects and some furniture and props. The basement location was the most elaborate, while the cafes were simply tables and chairs with a few signs. The assemblies were represented with two or three small red chairs, kid’s size, and the opening and closing scenes had a large head on the back wall and a park bench – nice and simple.

The performances were all excellent. Tracey Ullman was very prim and proper as Miss Lambert, even reminding me of the Queen at times. Her story-telling was marvellous, and I could well imagine children being inspired by such a teacher. David Troughton was very good as Mr Minken, especially telling the story of his father’s escape from Germany after the Nazis came to power. We were aware of the importance of his little model plane and the box he was carrying, and nearly lost, and I found this the most moving story of the lot.

Sorcha Cusack was lovely as Miss Summers, and Sian Brooke was very good as Julie, tough as nails to begin with, but showing her kindness as well. Hannah Arterton played several waitresses with varying attitudes, ranging from hostility to friendliness, and Tom Riley held it together as Richard, the young man whose career hasn’t been quite as dazzling as he pretended. When he was confronted about this by his teachers, he began to stammer again, a problem from his childhood, and I reckoned they had guessed he was lying because he hadn’t stammered before. It’s as if he could only speak clearly when he was lying in some way, or at least not talking about his own life. When the truth came out, so did the stammer and they could tell it was real.

There were many layers to this play – memories, changes in society, strange lives, the difference between children and the adults they become – and I would probably get even more out of if I saw it again. It was enjoyable to watch, and it’s good to have Poliakoff back in the theatre; he has a distinctive voice, and it’s one I’ve missed.

© 2011 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Three Days In May – October 2011

7/10

By: Ben Brown

Diretced by: Alan Strachan

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Friday 14th October 2011

This is a play of two halves. The first half was a bit slow, introducing historical characters that needed no introduction for many of us, and setting up the central dilemma: with France nearly taken by the Germans, should Britain’s government consider negotiating a peaceful settlement, or should they focus entirely on resisting the Nazi advance? The official history held that they never thought about negotiations at all, but the reality appears to be that there were three days in May 1940 when the War Cabinet did debate such a possibility. Their final choice, to fight on, shaped our world in ways we probably haven’t fully appreciated yet, and by looking at this ‘wobble’, the play brings the importance of that choice into greater focus.

The set kept things relatively simple. The back wall was covered by a vast map of Europe, which obscured the two entrances to the Cabinet room. The entrance on the left was double doors, while there was a single door on the right. The raised platform in front of the wall held a long table, and there was a drinks table behind this. In front of the platform was a space which held the chairs at the start but was otherwise empty, and Jock Colville’s desk was front right. The costumes were naturally of their time, including Chamberlain’s Edwardian frock coat which he continued to wear.

The play was narrated by Jock Colville, Winston Churchill’s secretary at the time. We were shown the five Cabinet members – Churchill, Chamberlain, Halifax, Atlee and Greenwood – at prayers on the Sunday, followed by a meeting between Churchill and the French Prime Minister, Paul Reynaud. This triggered the Cabinet debate, with Halifax and Chamberlain keen to avoid the bloodshed of another war, and Churchill temporarily uncertain. Atlee and Greenwood didn’t push the matter initially, although they spoke up later on about the importance of keeping the momentum going so that the British workers (for these were Labour men) would be up for a fight. With Halifax threatening to resign if the negotiation option was ruled out, Churchill has to put pressure on Chamberlain to keep the War Cabinet together.

The second half started with Churchill and Chamberlain having a little meeting before the rest of the War Cabinet arrived. This scene contained most of the play’s humour, and livened things up a lot. Despite his natural inclinations, Chamberlain finally agrees to support Churchill, and keeps his word in the Cabinet debate. The play ends with Churchill smoking and drinking in typical fashion, while Jock gives us a brief update on the history, ending with a quote from Stalin. He leaves, and Winston is left in the spotlight for a moment, then they fade to black.

It was a good ending to an interesting play, as Ben Brown’s usually are. I did think the first half could do with being beefed up a bit; I felt we could have done with more background on just how much these men had been put off war from their experience of WWI (well, not Churchill, obviously). It’s hard to get into the mentality of the time when no one knew the outcome of these choices, while us knowing how things turned out automatically removes any possibility of suspense. But the second half made up for the first, and I thought all the performances were very good. Robert Demeger was not in the original cast, but was excellent as Chamberlain, while Warren Clarke did a very good impersonation of Churchill’s voice and delivery, so good in fact that I couldn’t make out what he was saying a few times early on. But I soon tuned in, and his stage presence was reassuringly strong. Jeremy Clyde was equally as good as Lord Halifax, and the rest of the cast were fine, though they didn’t have as much to do. It will be interesting to see how this gets on in the West End.

© 2011 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

King Lear – October 2011

7/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Ian Brown

Company: West Yorkshire Playhouse

Venue: Quarry Theatre

Date: Saturday 1st October 2011

Both Steve and I were torn between giving this production a 7/10 or 8/10 rating. The central performance was very good, the set was dramatic but didn’t get in the way and there were several interesting choices in the staging, but the performance as a whole didn’t have a sparkle to it yet – it’s still early in the run – and the audience wasn’t as responsive as we felt they could have been, which held the rating back. Still, we were very happy to have visited this venue, a larger scale Minerva in many ways, and we’ll definitely come back for more.

The set for the first half was basically a large box with two sides, which were at an angle to the steeply sloping base. A bright red carpet slashed diagonally across the floor from the door in the centre of the left-hand wall to the front of the stage. A sword was stuck into it near the front of the slope, Excalibur-like, and a throne sat on the edge of the carpet, facing back into the box. During the storm scene, this box rotated, with Lear declaiming most of his lines atop one of the walls, until we were faced with the back side of the opening set. The gap under the sloping floor became the entrance to the shelter which Gloucester leads them to, and the interval came after Lear and Kent have left for Dover. With the box rotated, I could see the thunder sheets at the back of the space, which fitted very well somehow – they certainly didn’t distract me. The costumes were a hybrid of modern dress with Elizabethan references – the royal family wore bright scarlet, like the carpet, while the rest wore more sombre colours, with the men mainly in military outfits.

For the opening scene, the court entered through the door and took up their positions, and then Kent marched down to the front to start the play with his lines to Gloucester. Edmund was as happy as usual to be introduced as a bastard – i.e. not much – and James Garnon did very well with this role throughout. When Lear arrives – no tricks this time – both Cordelia and the fool are with him, with the fool carrying a stool to sit on. It’s rarely done this way, which is fair enough since the fool isn’t included in the stage instructions, but it does allow us to see him as a character close to the king, as someone who cares deeply for Cordelia, and it gives an added emphasis to his jibe at the king, ‘can you make no use of nothing, nuncle?’ when we know he was there at the time Cordelia said that fateful word. I found myself sniffling in advance at the thought of it. Anyway, the fool sat on his stool beside the throne for most of this scene, saying never a word, but Richard O’Callaghan made us aware of his feelings at the important moments, without stealing any thunder from the speaking parts.

Lear came across as very controlling and peremptory in this scene, taking a moment to decide who would ‘attend my lords of France and Burgundy’, pointing to where he wanted the map placed, etc. His face looked pretty stern, except when he looked at Cordelia of course. He even smiled a bit at the ridiculous flattery that Goneril and Regan came up with. Each of them knelt behind the sword and kissed its hilt before speaking. Goneril (Neve McIntosh) looked nervous, and had to force the words out. Lear indicated her portion by holding his arms over the map along the relevant boundaries. Regan was more of a saucy minx, well prepared to flatter and deceive, and it was during her efforts that I saw how ludicrous this situation was. No one in their right minds could believe what these women were saying, which is why I reckoned that this Lear is crazy from the start of the play; I watched carefully to see how this would develop.

Regan looked distinctly unimpressed with her portion, though she kept the sulks off her face until her father’s back was turned, and then it was Cordelia’s turn to make a speech. She had stood to one side during her sister’s speeches – her asides were included – and then simply stood behind the sword, didn’t kneel, didn’t kiss it, and took a little time to come out with her ‘nothing’. Lear’s rage was not the strongest I’ve seen, but it was enough to explain the nervous looks on both Goneril and Regan’s face throughout this scene. He ripped the map in two to split his kingdom between Albany and Cornwall, and left his coronet hanging on the hilt of the sword. A lot of Burgundy and France’s lines were cut – well actually there were a lot of cuts or they couldn’t have managed the whole play in just over three hours – but I specifically noticed that Cordelia was no longer Lear’s ‘best object’, though she was the ‘balm of your age’, while all she said was ‘peace be with Burgundy’ after her first suitor rejects her. So we got the bulk of the play, but lost some of the detail – fair enough.

The fool came over to mime his farewell to Cordelia, and then the sisters have their little conversation before sweeping off stage. Steve reckoned that Lear had difficulty remembering Regan’s name when it was her turn to speak, but I didn’t spot that. Lear was certainly hesitating before some words tonight, which we took to be an aspect of the character’s age and not any lack on the actor’s part.

Edmund’s little chat with the audience was well done, but this was where I first noticed the lack of response from the audience. Lear certainly isn’t a comedy, but there can be a lot of humour at times, mainly from Edmund as he shares his villainous intentions with us. This audience just wasn’t getting it most of the time, which held things back a bit. Bernard Lloyd was good as Gloucester, while I was looking forward to Sam Crane’s performance as Edgar, as we’d enjoyed his Rodorigo in Othello at the Globe back in 2007. This performance was also pretty good, apart from one section, and got off to a good start in this early scene.

The relationship between Goneril and her steward Oswald came across as significantly more personal in this production. Looks were exchanged, and there was some intimate contact too, as Goneril grabbed him by his belt to drag him off stage at one point. When Edmund comes on the scene, Oswald’s seriously miffed, though not enough to let Regan see Goneril’s letter to Edmund later on. He does toy with the letter, though, as if he’s considering opening it himself. His rudeness to Lear was accompanied by some gesture such as slicking back his hair, which perfectly suggested the ‘weary negligence’ ordered by Goneril. The relatively small scale of this production meant that Lear couldn’t have many companions at this point, but it was clear that he’d lost even the few he had a short while later. Kent’s disguise involved shaving his head and putting on a Northern accent – sufficient for this play, but only just. The fool’s bit of doggerel – ‘Have more than thou showest’ – was done in mime to one of the attendant lords, with appropriate gestures for those of us who know the lines. Lear grabbed Goneril and threw her on the ground when he was cursing her. Albany’s closing line, ‘well, well, the event’ had me wondering if this was a misprint – what on earth does it mean in the context of the scene? Perhaps some genius will emend it for us in the future.

Lear’s madness was coming along nicely as he talks with the fool, and I noticed a turning point in the next scene. He’s unable to guess the answer to the fools’ first riddle – ‘Thou canst tell why one’s nose stands i’ the middle on’s face?’ – but later he comes up with the correct ‘reason why the seven stars are no more than seven’. This suggested to me that with his certainties beginning to crumble, he’s seeing the world from new perspectives. The emotional upheaval is causing him great distress, of course, but his mind is starting to grasp new ways of understanding the world, and this came across more clearly later on.

After Edmund has sent Edgar on his way, he wounded himself in the side. Sadly, no one seems inclined to give him any sympathy – they hardly notice his wound at all. In fact, they hardly notice him at all, as he kneels at the side of the stage, so he grabs his opportunity to get more involved with his claim that Edmund was one of the riotous knights who attended the king.

With this group moving inside Gloucester’s home, Kent and Oswald have their little argument. I liked that Kent has only a dagger, while Oswald has a sword, yet even so, Kent is winning their fight easily until the Duke and others emerge to find out what the noise is about. Edmund held his sword to Kent’s throat and took his dagger, which he then gave to Oswald. We wondered if anything more would come of that, but we didn’t spot anything. Kent is put in the stocks to the left of the stage, and reads Cordelia’s letter by moonlight. I forgot to mention that there was a large full moon behind the box, which moved from the left to the right during this first half – at this point it’s on the right of the stage.

The text has Edgar explaining his choice to become Poor Tom at this point; I’m not sure if it was fitted in slightly differently tonight or not. I was very aware that he can’t get away – the countryside is being searched, and the ports are guarded, so his only chance to avoid capture is to disguise himself.

Back at Gloucester’s place, Lear turns up with his minimalist entourage (i.e. the fool). This was another interesting stage in his developing insanity. As the rage mounted, he would suddenly calm himself again with reasonable arguments, only to flare up into another angry outburst when he sees Kent in the stocks. When Kent is freed, Lear looks like he’s going to have a tantrum again, but again breaks it off. He’s all lovey-dovey with Regan, thinking that she’s the loving daughter he expects her to be, until she makes it clear that she doesn’t consider Goneril to be in the wrong in this situation. It’s clear that all these changes of mood aren’t helping Lear to keep his balance, and that he’s finding it harder and harder to stay rational. His threats to his daughters taper off, and as he leaves, he’s clearly becoming seriously deranged.

Now, while I admire all the wonderful effects that can be achieved on the modern, fully equipped stage, I have a sneaking fondness for those productions which don’t go down the reality route, but instead opt for a simpler staging which allow us to enjoy the actual dialogue and the actors acting, without drowning out the words or drowning the stage. So this storm scene was a real pleasure. Instead of a downpour we simply had the thunder effects, and acting! Lovely.

Lear appeared at the top of the right hand wall of the box, and spoke most of his lines from there, while the box itself slowly revolved. The fool stayed on the stage, creeping round the outside of the box, trying to find shelter. I felt this speech had an unusual sense of freedom, as if Lear is actually coming to terms with his madness, and even starting to heal. As the box came round, and Kent reappeared, we could see the steps he’d climbed up, and as he started to engage with the others, he came down to join them.

I forget whether the short scene between Gloucester and Edmund was interposed here, but it was well done whenever it happened, and then we were back on the heath with the mad king. Poor Tom was wearing more clothes than is fashionable nowadays, and was suitably dirty and wild-looking. Lear’s obsession with his daughters, and insistence that Poor Tom’s suffering is due to ungrateful daughters, was hard to watch at times, and again the king hardly removed any clothes at all on ‘unbutton here’.

After another short scene between Edmund and Cornwall – Edmund’s still pretending to be a nice boy, the sort you’d want your daughter to marry – Lear and his companions are brought by Gloucester into a room, through the gap under the sloping floor of the stage. They only have a mattress and a stool with them, and the scene was seriously cut. The fool mimed the drawing of the bed curtains beautifully, and Lear actually mimed pulling one to the side when he’s telling them ‘we’ll go to supper i’ the morning’. I noticed that Lear’s interest in Poor Tom has led him to ignore the Fool; the two of them sang a little song at one point, and I gathered from the Fool’s reaction to Tom joining in that he felt his position was being usurped. When Kent and Gloucester take Lear away, the Fool stays behind, lurking in the shadows, and hears Edgar’s final comments before his departure. The Fool then has some lines of his own – pinched from somewhere else – and leaves in a different direction.

They took the interval at this point, and when the second half started the set had been completely changed. Instead of the box, there was now just a sloping semi-circle across the middle of the stage at a slight angle, and a chair in front of it with menacing-looking straps. We all know what comes next, don’t we?

I didn’t watch too closely for the next scene, so can’t report in detail on the staging. I suspect I wasn’t alone. Still, I got the gist, and in this version Regan helps her husband off stage – not always the case. The following scene, when Edgar meets his newly-blinded father, was the one time when I felt Sam Crane’s performance was a bit weak. His Edgar came across as rather effeminate and wobbly during this scene, which was off-putting, but to his credit he managed to recover the part to become a believable opponent for Edmund during the sword fight.

Edgar’s deception of Gloucester on the cliff at Dover was moving, as was the scene with Lear. Again, I felt that Lear had gained a lot of wisdom, but was still slipping into fantasy land occasionally. When Lear is woken in the French camp, the king of France is there as well, and responds to Lear’s question ‘Am I in France?’, a nice touch.

Again, the audience seemed resistant to the humour inherent in Edmund’s soliloquy about which sister to have once the battle’s over. When they return victorious, there’s a servant standing at the front of the stage holding a tray with goblets of wine. We can clearly see Goneril putting the poison into one of the cups, with the connivance of the servant, and soon Regan is feeling unwell. The fight was fairly short, with both men wearing fencing masks. Edmund grabbed Edgar’s a couple of times, and I thought it might have come off, which added to the suspense. It didn’t, of course, but it was good fun.

The final section, with Lear’s death, was moving. When Kent realises Lear is not going to recover and be king again, and doesn’t even recognise him properly, his decision to finish it is clear from that point. With Edgar looking like he’ll rise to the challenge of kingship quite well, the story had a more positive feel at the end than some productions give it.

I also want to mention Richard O’Callaghan’s performance as the fool. He was very good, and I found I was totally aware of the reasons behind his apparently meaningless chatter. Gone are the days when the fool’s lines seemed to be obscure nonsense.

And finally, Tim Pigott-Smith’s Lear was a very clear portrayal of a descent into madness, admittedly from a precarious starting point. The way his anger and controlling temperament led to his downfall was apparent, and again I felt he was one of those pampered types who would be nice as pie as long as everything went their way, but flare up into a rage when they didn’t get what they wanted. Of course, when you’re king, you usually do get what you want, so this is quite a reversal for him.

The whole tone of the production was brisk, no-nonsense storytelling, which suited us fine. We were certainly well satisfied, and from the loud applause it seemed the audience had also enjoyed themselves, even if they hadn’t responded much during the performance. It was a shame – the cast deserved better, and there was less of an atmosphere as a result. But we enjoyed ourselves well enough, and will be happy to come here again.

© 2011 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Pit And The Pendulum – September 2011

7/10

By: Edgar Allen Poe, adapted by John Goodrum

Directed by: John Goodrum

Company: Rumpus Theatre Company

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Saturday 24th September 2011

Before seeing this production, the film, starring Vincent Price, was still in our memories. Tonight’s performance has certainly pushed those to one side. With only two actors and one set, this company managed to create a tremendous sense of fear. The pace was slow, and it was mostly two people talking, but with short re-enactment sessions built in to the narrative, they evoked the horrific situation the young man found himself in very well – I’m still creeped out days later.

In an attempt to rescue his wife, William Trevelyan has been kidnapped by an evil bunch, one of whom is his wife’s uncle. He’s been confined in a dark room, circular in shape, and with a nasty hole in the middle of the room. He’s been put through various forms of sadistic torture, including the swinging pendulum blade, but after the opening scene which showed us this gloomy cell, he’s rescued when a group from the local village come out to the house he’s been kept in and arrest the various wrongdoers. As he’s still weak, his rescuer, Josiah Bellamy, gets him to recount his ordeal before taking him upstairs to freedom. As the story unfolds, we’re shown some of the events – given the gloom, it wasn’t always easy to make things out – and then the play reaches the final, disturbing twist as William gets to meet his wife’s uncle, the man who’s behind his suffering.

The set was simple. A raised circular platform in the middle of the stage, with the requisite hole in the middle, and a series of chains hanging down at intervals round the outside. That’s it. The lighting was good, though as I’ve mentioned it was often very dark, making it hard to see what was going on. Once the story started, though, we were talked through the action, which worked better for me.

This same group did The Signalman, which we saw back in 2009; this is another good adaptation of an old-fashioned horror story, and I’ll definitely look out for their work again.

© 2011 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Browning Version – September 2011

7/10

By: Terence Rattigan

Directed by: Angus Jackson

Venue: Minerva Theatre

Date: Tuesday 6th September 2011

I like this little play very much. It’s well constructed, and while it might not be completely idiot-proof, it can certainly rise above mediocre performances. Not that this was a problem tonight. There were a few rough edges, but given that this is very early in the run, I’m sure they’ll be up to speed very soon.

The set used the same two wooden arches as the first play, but added in the walls of Crocker-Harris’s study, and some French windows out to the garden centre back. A screen shielded the main entrance to the right, and there was a small table beside the French windows on the left. Another small table stood front left, with a large dining table centre right and a sofa centre left. There were several rugs on the floor, and the sense of a 50s style study/living room was very clear.

I liked Nicholas Farrell’s portrayal of Crocker-Harris a lot. He was very stiff and formal most of the time, but not unpleasant, and the way he crumpled when he was given the gift was very moving. I’m intrigued by the way such formality of speech can actually be used to convey the emotions underneath – it was beautifully done tonight.

Andrew Woodall was fine as the headmaster, and Mark Umbers was good as Frank Hunter, the cuckolder who turns into a friend. Liam Morton was very good as Taplow, and I certainly got the impression that the gift was a kind gesture on his part, which is what it’s meant to be. The only fly in the ointment for me was Anna Chancellor’s performance as Millie Crocker-Harris. I didn’t get the full sense of her nastiness here; it’s as if she’s afraid to make the part too unpleasant, which undercuts everyone else’s good work. Perhaps I just need time to adjust to her way of doing it, and as we’re seeing it again next month I may find it’s improved. We still enjoyed ourselves tonight anyway, so we’re looking forward to the next time.

© 2011 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me