Category Archives: 8/10

A Trip To Scarborough – January 2008

8/10

Variations on the original play by R B Sheridan (itself an adaptation of The Relapse by Vanburgh, itself an adaptation/sequel to a play by Colley Cibber) written and updated by Alan Ayckbourn

Directed by Alan Ayckbourn

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 28th January 2008

And what a wonderful trip to Scarborough this was! The blending of the various time settings was pure Ayckbourn, and the “original” 1800 stuff sparkled like a jewel against the more modern scenes. All the long-windedness trimmed down to a few vital (in both senses of the word) scenes, and some comic set pieces by a modern master as well – what joy.

The two later time periods – 1942 and this year – are set in the Royal Hotel, Scarborough, and the action take places in the foyer. There are a couple of hotel servants, Gander and Pestle, who shift between times zones like experienced Time Lords, although they’re not required much in the 1800 scenes. The 1800 scenes are in a mixture of rooms, but as the present day hotel is hosting a fancy dress party, with 19th century period costume, this makes for some entertaining possibilities, and is obviously easier on the cast, as they don’t have to keep rushing backstage to get changed.

The 1800 scenes were a very trimmed down version of a play that has already been through various versions. They mainly occurred in the second half, although the start of the play showed us Hoyden sitting on the steps, holding a doll. Lord Foppington is due to marry Hoyden, the daughter of a Yorkshire gentleman, but his impecunious younger brother gets there first, pretends to be Lord Foppington, and gets the girl. To be fair, he did ask his brother for money first, and if he’d come through for him, then the risky marriage would have been off, but the Lord isn’t one for giving money away needlessly to his family, when he could give it away needlessly to his tailor, wig-maker, etc. (Actually, they didn’t bother with wigs in this production – I suspect it would have been too much to do in the quick changes.)

This story is echoed in the modern scenes, where a valuable manuscript is being sold by the daughter of a wealthy local knight, Sir George Tunberry, without his knowledge, and the dealer, Lance Foppington, is having to fend off the attentions of another young dealer, John Townly, who’s threatening to spill the beans. There’s also a couple of young businessmen staying in the hotel. They’re supposed to be in Aberdeen, at a conference, but they’ve skived off to have some fun in Scarborough instead. One of them spends his time talking to his family on his mobile, pretending to be at the conference, while the other has been caught by his girlfriend having sex with her sister, and now his entire family are giving him earache about it.

In 1942, there’s a regular shindig going on off stage, as some of the pilots are drinking to celebrate a successful mission, except it turns out one of them has been grounded. There’s a mother and daughter also staying at the hotel – the mother has recently lost her husband, and the daughter’s husband is MIA. The main storyline for this period, though, is the mysterious wife swap that one of the guests has done, starting out with wife A, then bringing wife B back from the theatre, and finally reappearing with wife A again. What can this mean? Pestle and Gander are determined to find out, which they do, but sadly without persuading wife B she’s in danger.

All these stories were nicely interwoven, and it was remarkably easy to tell which period we were in. Lighting helped, and the costumes of course. There was a band for the party who gave us music throughout, appropriate to the time zone we were in, and joined in some of the dialogue. The best bits for me were the three airmen giving us their impression of the Andrews sisters (well worth the price of admission alone), Gander’s explanation for deciding to shout “corporal” at wife B (she’s too young to be a sergeant, too intelligent to be a private, and too good-looking to be an officer), and the final revelations in the original time zone, with Lord Foppington getting his comeuppance, and his brother getting a wife.

As usual, this was a good ensemble performance, but I did enjoy some parts a little more than others. I was interested to see Ben Lambert playing the various incarnations of John Townly; he was in French Without Tears last February, standing in at short notice for another actor, and did a very good job. He was fine here, allowing for the fact that his Scottish accent in the early stages was meant to be terrible. Richard Stacey as the penniless brother, the grounded Flight Lieutenant, and one of the modern businessmen, was amazing as the lead Andrews sister, and gave a good account of the 1800s stuff. They were all allowed to really mug up their asides to the audience, and they made full use of it. And Terence Booth, who also stepped in last year to help out in If I Were You, another Ayckbourn, gave us a fine pair of comedy villains in Lord Foppington and his degenerate descendant Lance Foppington, the crooked dealer, slipping in a cameo as Len “the spiv” Foppington just for good measure.

It’s hard to put any more detail to this now, as it all blends together so quickly in my mind. We would have seen this again at the Connaught if we’d had a free night, but as it is, we’re glad we’re saw it last night.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Present Laughter – January 2008

8/10

By: Noel Coward

Directed by: Howard Davies

Venue: Lyttelton Theatre

Date: Tuesday 22nd January 2008

Now that I’ve seen this play a number of times, I realise the main interest in seeing it again is the fantastically different performances by the leading man. We’ve seen Simon Callow, Donald Sinden and somebody else (I wasn’t doing these notes then), and each time the lead actor brings a different emphasis, along with accumulated baggage, most of which enriches the performance. Alex Jennings contributed a more youthful Garry Essendine, one close to the age claimed by Garry, which made his character seem more in touch with reality. He still covered the character’s wide emotional range (or tantrums) beautifully, and there was a nice touch for those of us who remember Alex Jennings’ Peer Gynt some years ago, with Garry being so thankful that his friends had saved him from playing that part. All the performances were perfect, and I enjoyed myself immensely.

I did find the set and staging a bit off-putting, though. Having checked the program notes, I accept that the play itself was written in the run-up to WWII, and that it would have been staged in the West End had the war not broken out just before the opening, but I don’t find any references to the war in the play itself. In fact, if they had been in the early stages of WWII, would Liz have blithely suggested that Joanna spend a month in Paris? Maybe she wanted her to fall into the German’s clutches, as that would have solved all their problems. Or would Joanna actually have gone, only to return a week later because she misses Garry, rather than to avoid those terribly non-U Nazi storm troopers? And the references to what food is available for breakfast take on a different connotation: rather than suggesting a haphazard Bohemian lifestyle, they simply imply that rationing had bitten early. And the biggest elephant in the room was the tour to Africa – that would have been completely disrupted by the events being announced on the stage radio, never mind by Garry’s obsessive lovers (and Mr Maule, who may want to be one of these lovers).

The set contributed to this sense of the play not quite fitting the mould made for it. Previous productions have used immaculately designed and decorated sets, against which Garry struts his stuff like a peacock. This set was an exaggerated triangle, thrusting quite far back on the stage, and giving more of the Bohemian effect. The walls were painted in a turquoise blue scumbled effect, the sofas and tables were well-worn and old-fashioned, and with the various throws and rugs, it wasn’t actually easy to see, when Garry posed himself on the sofa, which bits were him and which bits were the throws. For someone who likes to play the peacock, this was beyond understated. It also made it hard to spot the change after the farewell party – the place looked much the same, just a few extra bottles which took time to spot. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the references in the dialogue, I might not have noticed. All the luggage seemed part and parcel of the general studio setting as well, so extra bags arriving didn’t build up that sense of pressure that I normally get with the final scene. Despite this, the acting was superb from everyone – the central part is so dependent on the rest of the cast to pull this one off – and there was one lovely piece of business during the third scene. When Daphne is doing her recital, she loses the words at one point (not specified in the text), and everyone else, including Miss Erikson the housekeeper who pops her head through the kitchen door, prompts her. This adds to Daphne’s embarrassment, as it’s another reminder that she’s not the first and won’t be the last to have a fling with Garry. You can certainly count us in for another go.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry IV part 1 – January 2008

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Thursday 17th January 2008

This was a huge improvement on the first performance we saw, way back in August last year. At that time, the production seemed terribly under-rehearsed and unsure of itself. Now it’s come together wonderfully, to give us a really good look at this “roaring” play.

The main improvement is in the performance of Hal himself (Geoffrey Streatfeild). From his earlier, rather stiff performance, he’s blossomed into a lively, energetic prince, full of expression and fun, enjoying the tricks he and Poins get up to, and holding his own in banter with Falstaff. He also shows more of the king to be, albeit in small glimpses. When swearing to the king that he would do great deeds which would shine so bright as to obscure his murky past, he was sincere, but it was still bravado – he hasn’t done any of it yet. It was noticeable how the king’s attitude changed as Harry showed his worth on the battlefield; he obviously realised he had been mistaken.

The dialogue with Falstaff came off remarkably clearly. I think the main problem I have with the language in this play is the archaic terms, which make it difficult to follow. It’s easier when the nobles are discussing war plans, as they tend not to get too highfalutin – it’s a practical business, warfare, at least under this regime. But in the playful exchanges down Eastcheap way, the language can stretch and scratch its balls, so to speak, and it often does.

The playfulness between Hal and Falstaff also came across more tonight. I liked the way Hal impersonates his father’s posture when playing him, and his delivery of “I do, I will” gave me the impression of the boy growing up into the man, and seeing what he will have to become. Mistress Quickly’s reactions to Falstaff’s portrayal of the king seemed stronger; she was really enjoying herself tonight. In general, David Warner’s performance as Falstaff seemed more assured. I expect this was partly because Hal himself was giving him more to work with.

The scene with Hotspur ranting and raving went a little better tonight. There’s still too little reaction from his father and uncle though. After a lifetime of listening to the lad shout the odds at every opportunity, you’d think they’d be a bit tired of it by now, but these two were pretty stoic about it all, except when Hotspur’s yelling after the king. I’ve seen it done with much more reaction, and as well as being funnier, it allows the other characters to breathe a bit, too.

I enjoyed the “anon, anon” sketch last time. I could see what Hal was trying to do – get Poor Francis, the drawer, to reply “anon, anon” to everything he says. It’s a pretty shabby trick, but then nobles in Shakespeare’s play don’t always act nobly. The timing didn’t work quite so well tonight, I felt.

The fight between Hal and Hotspur was interesting. Hotspur is obviously the odds-on favourite, with his wealth of experience at killing people, but Hal’s learned some sneaky tricks during his time at Eastcheap, and puts them to good use here. He actually bites Hotspur at a crucial moment, which floors him, literally, and then Hal can finish him off. Except that this Hotspur refuses to be killed. Terminator-like, he heaves himself across the stage, still trying to kill his opponent, but eventually the red eyes flicker and die, as it were, and Hotspur is finally dead. Not that that will settle things. Falstaff’s quick to claim the glory, and here Hal is surprisingly willing to let him, and even seems glad about it. It’s surprising because one of Hal’s reasons for playing the dissolute prince-about-town was to gain all the greater glory when he shows his true colours. I would have thought he’d be at least a little miffed that Falstaff steals his thunder.

For the robbery scene, the almost compulsory rope work was involved, and I liked Bardolph’s interpolations of “shit” and “bollocks” when he couldn’t get up the ropes to get away. I’m sure Will would have approved.

Before the battle, I noticed for the first time that Hotspur’s arguments to his wavering colleagues are identical to those that Hal will use later before the battle of Agincourt. The fewer soldiers, the greater the glory. With Hotspur, I get the impression he’s just saying it for himself, as a natural expression of his belligerent nature. With Hal, it becomes a tremendously stirring speech, designed to rouse his men for battle. This was one of the many ways I see these two characters being contrasted and compared throughout these plays. Both give their fathers concern, though for different reasons. Both have similar attitudes to war and power, and in many ways they could have been great friends. But their respective positions on either side of a power divide make that impossible. It’s similar to the way the king and Falstaff are contrasted as Hal’s two ‘fathers’. It’s debatable how much Hal takes after either of them in the end, although he certainly learns all he can from each.

Another change was that the audience on the far side of the stage was encouraged to stand up to become the “pressed men” referred to in the text. Mildly amusing, perhaps, but I’m not sure how much that sort of thing can be inflicted on an audience. Did they really have to stand up, or could they just have been indicated by the actors? Anyway, it shows this cast are more comfortable working with the audience and playing off them than ever before.

Finally, I really appreciated the diversity of language in this play, after the total verse of Richard II. It made the whole piece seem more alive. And why ‘roaring’? Well, Hotspur roars, Falstaff roars, King Henry roars, Hal roars (occasionally), even Mistress Quickly roars (with laughter). There’s so much roaring in this production that any escaped lions from Dudley zoo would have felt quite at home. As it was, I’m glad there weren’t any lions; it made the whole experience much more enjoyable.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Noughts And Crosses – January 2008

8/10

By: Malorie Blackman

Directed by: Dominic Cooke

Company: RSC

Venue: Stratford Civic Hall

Date: Thursday 17th January 2008

This came across even better than last time, mainly because I was familiar with the story and could get into it a lot more than before, and partly because we had a different angle, so we caught some things we hadn’t seen before, giving us a fresh take. There were no real changes that I could spot, but I did notice during the funeral get-together where Sephy is rejected, that one of the other mourners had an armband on. The symbol on it was red, with four black diagonal lines, and several white concentric circles over that – possibly the Liberation Army symbol? I was also moved to tears several times, such as when Lily’s ordeal is uncovered, when the bomb was being reported, and at the end.

The courtroom scene had seemed very jumbled before; this time it came across more clearly, with the participants easier to identify. I noticed throughout the play that the actors were working hard to move around and give us all a chance to see what was going on, and it worked a treat. We did have the advantage of having seen it before, but even so, they did a great job.

The performances were all still fantastic. Callum’s father’s part came across more strongly this time, and I also noticed Sephy’s mother more, helped by the change of angle – the look of suffering on her face was deeply moving. This woman has been through a lot, and this time I was more aware of Sephy not having the experience to be able to understand her mother, rather than Sephy’s own frustration at not being understood. It was a lovely performance, and one of the best in an amazing ensemble production.  I was more aware of my ideas changing, and I was tremendously impressed by the range and depth of this production, ostensibly aimed at teenagers, but with more power than many more “grown-up” shows.

Having re-read my original notes, I suspect that my reason for suggesting a lack of depth in the characterisations was through not being familiar with the play. I didn’t have that feeling this time at all, and the power of the piece was what I took away with me. I also wondered if Sephy’s mother and Callum’s dad had been having an affair, as Jasmine, Sephy’s mum, is so keen to see him get off. Could this be the source of the rift between the two women?

This production was well worth seeing again, and good luck to them on tour.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Richard II – January 2008

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Wednesday 16th January 2008

At last! I managed to sit through over three hours of drama with hardly a cough! Wonderful. And on top of all that, we got to see a production that has already become an old friend – we shall miss seeing it every few months (only now we’re thinking of doing some of the plays again, in London, so who knows?).

Our seats this time were as far round as you could get, and in the front row. I was a bit worried about the gardening scene, in case we were sprayed, but the chap at the cloakroom reckoned it was the high numbers who were in for a soaking. So much more fun when it’s someone else, isn’t it? We still had a pretty good view, and as well as seeing a different emphasis in some scenes, there were some additional details that I hadn’t seen at all before. It’s possible these were new, though I suspect some were simply hidden from us in the past. There were lots of lines I lost in the first half, as the receiver for the headset was set to the wrong channel – now I know how to deal with that in future – but everything was clear as a bell in the second half. Incidentally, these seats had a different risk – that of getting our eyes poked out by the sword tips that were swishing around, but fortunately no doctor was required.

There were a number of changes that I noticed, and a number of things that struck me this time. There seemed to be a reduced amount of sand falling on Richard. Steve and I remembered it lasting through the Queen’s chat with him. I spotted the eyeing that both the future Henry VI and Queen Margaret gave each other at the end of the gardening scene – another example of carrying the characters through the set of plays. When Bolingbroke refers to himself as “a trueborn Englishman”, I was reminded that Richard was born in France, as Paul Edmondson mentioned this afternoon. Throughout the opening scene, Richard looked scared – I took this to be his fear that Mowbray will implicate him in Gloucester’s death. The ending gave an extra sense of the guilt weighing Henry down, with Richard’s body lying in his coffin at the foot of the steps, and Henry himself finding it harder to walk up them. I also found the explicit use of Bagot as the murderer, in place of Exton, a lot clearer this time. I heard all of the Duchess of Gloucester’s speech this time – nicely done – and in general the performance had the feel of a cast well used to the play, putting in extra details here and there, bringing out even more of the resonances and echoes. At the end, as Richard is dying – he has to have a few lines before he finally snuffs it, of course – he seemed to be hunched over a bit, in reference to the later Richard?

At the start, I was more aware of the formality of the dance, the sound of feet on floor (ballet only seems glamorous till you hear the thuds and thumps), the complete absence of music, and the presence of dead Gloucester. It’s as if we were watching from behind thick glass, as if the sound had been taken away (mostly), and the movements were all. From this point, I was more aware of the spectacle of Richard’s court; that he was all mouth and no action. Paul had also mentioned that this was one of only four plays that Shakespeare had written entirely in verse, and I realised that contributed to the artificial nature of everyone’s behaviour. I can’t remember how long Gloucester stayed on the stage before – this time he left during his widow’s speech.

The preparations for the duel seemed more elaborate than I remember, but that may just have been the different perspective. I did notice that Richard starts out by asking the Marshal to find out who these men were, and why they were here to fight – as if he didn’t know! This added to the theatricality of the proceedings – everyone’s playing a role. (And doesn’t Shakespeare love playing with that idea!) Richard is more dismissive of Henry than I remember, ignoring him after they first speak, and the oath swearing bit was dropped, Mowbray exiting on the line “To dwell in solemn shades of endless  night”.

The next scene, where Richard’s mates are lolling about in comfort while his wife stands around, looking like a spare chastity belt at an orgy, served to give more emphasis to Richard’s dubious relationships. It includes a lovely song which all the men are singing, and which I don’t remember happening before. When Richard arrives to visit John of Gaunt, after a splendid “sceptred isle” I may add, Richard is clearly put out at the way Gaunt refuses to play the part of a loyal, happy subject, fulfilling Richard’s fantasy of himself as a divinely ordained King for whom everything goes wonderfully well. He moves quickly from pampered happiness to pouty sulks, and John of Gaunt’s tongue-lashing gives him plenty of opportunity for that. At first, with Gaunt’s clever punning on his own name, the court is happy, as he seems to be finally joining in with the spirit of the age, but that soon changes.

The Duke of York is even more of a dither when the news comes that Bolingbroke has landed. Northumberland’s flattery of Bolingbroke, by saying that his company has made the journey seem lovelier, is stronger this time, and contrasts really well with the opening of Henry’s reign, when everyone’s being nasty to everyone else, flinging gages right, left and centre. There’s a huge heap of them in the middle of the stage by the time Henry calls for Richard to come and hand over his crown.

Before this, in the scene where Richard arrives back in England, we see both the epitome of Richard’s fantasising, and the beginning of his awakening to reality. He’s up and down like an emotional yo-yo, playing at being a royal king, then despairing and lashing out at supposed betrayers. The language is wonderfully moving, and Scroop’s way of delivering the news tightens the screw beautifully. First off, he’s incredibly long-winded about how bad his news is, then he takes ages to mention minor details like the Duke of York’s gone over to the other side, you don’t have any troops, etc. I found myself feeling more sympathy than usual for Richard at this point. He’s a child-king, never able to develop properly, and that’s as much part of his downfall as his other failings.

Back in hetero-land, Richard’s about to give us some of Will’s best language as he hands over his crown. We reckoned there was less of the physical tug-of-war this time, more emphasis on the language. I could see a bit of Richard’s reflection in the mirror from this side, and I wondered how easy it would be for an actor to play this scene without having a real reflection to look at. A question for another production, I think.

I enjoyed the “pardon” scene, along with its precursor. The duchess actually sits on York’s lap to try and prevent him from going to the king, and she’s just as insistent as ever when she finally turns up at court. After that, it’s just the slaying of the ex-king and the final reports of dead traitors, complete with bloody heads (in bags). The gore and sand were as before – a messy business, these histories.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Woman Hater – January 2008

8/10

By: Frances Burney

Directed by: Sam Walters

Venue: Orange Tree Theatre

Date: Thursday 3rd January 2008

This cough has lasted far too long. First it stopped me enjoying the Richard II and Henrys in November, now it’s stopped me fully enjoying this world premiere of a play written 200 years ago. But not completely! Despite having to leave about half-way through the first half, I did manage to follow some of what went on (Steve brought me up-to-date in the interval) and saw the second half in full, so I can safely say this was a splendid production, and a very enjoyable play, which deserves to be installed in the regular canon alongside other Regency favourites.

The plot is anything but simple. Sir Roderick (Clive Francis) is the woman-hater of the title. His wrath was aroused against the fair sex when he was jilted by a lady, who instead married Lord Smatter, becoming Lady Smatter (Auriol Smith). Her brother, Wilmot (Michael Elwyn), married Sir Roderick’s sister, Eleonora (Joan Moon), despite Sir Roderick’s attempts at persuading them to call it off –  having been jilted himself, he seemed to want others to experience the same suffering. Wilmot and his wife left for the West Indies, where their baby daughter Sophia (Amy Noble) was born. Eleonora, seeing how another man was infatuated with her, decided to sail for England with their daughter, leaving a note with the family nurse (Vilma Hollingbury). Nurse decided to take advantage of the situation, and substituted her own daughter Joyce (Jennifer Higham) for Sophia, while destroying the letter left by Mrs Wilmot explaining the situation. Naughty nursy. As Eleonora’s admirer coincidentally departs at the same time, Wilmot naturally assumes that his wife has run off and left him to bring up their daughter. Eventually, still stricken with grief, he returns to England.

Meantime, Sir Roderick has banned women from his life, more successfully than the men in Love’s Labour’s Lost, it must be said. He’s picked a young man, Jack Waverley (Dudley Hinton) to be his heir. Jack’s father, Old Waverley (David Gooderson) is a cousin of Sir Roderick, and is very keen for his son to inherit the old man’s estate. But Jack is totally frustrated with the conditions imposed by Sir Roderick – not to see or speak with any woman, never to marry, etc. It’s more than his youthful blood can stand. And so the play opens (yes, that was just the back story) with Jack venting his spleen to his father and then to a servant, Stevens (Kieron Jecchinis), and disclosing his intention to marry a rich dowager within a week, just to spite Sir Roderick.

One of the things I like about Jack is his willingness to face facts. He knows he’s not used to working, doesn’t care for study, so the only option is to get rich quick, and live a life of idle pleasure. Too few career advisors offered this as a viable option when I was at school, sadly. (Although the celebrity get-rich-quick route does seem to be coming back into fashion with today’s youngsters.) Jack has seen a lovely young lady walking with her mother in a lane nearby, and he’s so desperate for a woman, he’d just as readily have the mother as the daughter. However, prudence prevails, and he recognises the need to find a wealthy, repeat wealthy woman to marry, and then he can do what he likes. As to the possibility of him actually loving an elderly woman – if she’s got money enough, he’ll love her to bits. An attitude the Puritans might disapprove of, but I found it refreshingly candid.

Stevens reminds him that Lady Smatter lives nearby, is old, and very wealthy, and a widow. As she’s one of those ladies who’s fond of learning, poetry and the arts, Jack reckons he can woo her pretty smartish, and be off to church in a trice. He’s not wrong, but the playwright has a few tricks up her sleeve before that happens.

Lady Smatter may revere learning, but she has a bit of difficulty remembering where her frequent misquotations come from. In this, she’s a perfect counterpart to Mrs Malaprop. While a modern audience can’t be expected to know the lines she’s botching together, nor their sources, her general air of serene certainty, followed by gentle confusion, was a delight to watch – a splendid performance by Auriol Smith. (Actually, it’s debatable whether a contemporary audience, had they had the chance to see the play, would have known the references either.) Anyway, she falls for Jack’s pretence of loving poetry, and isn’t averse to the idea of shacking up with a virile young man. Perhaps women writers are a bit more blunt about these things, or maybe just more aware of them, but I noticed several areas where Frances Burney went further than her male contemporaries, and it made for a better play, in my view.

Wilmot and his daughter now appear, and he’s in a right state. (Just to be clear, this daughter is Joyce, whom everyone except her mother believes is Sophia, so I’ll refer to her as Sophia/Joyce during this period of confusion.) It becomes clear very quickly that Wilmot’s a melodrama queen, taking the emotional ups and downs of life to extremes that few people know exist. This is aided by his use of flowery dialogue that would be laughable if it wasn’t making a humorous point. In his concern for his daughter’s welfare, and his guilt over not taking better care of her, he leaves her completely alone for ages, reading, or rather looking at, a book, while he paces jerkily up and down, metaphorically tearing his hair and beating his breast. It’s a nicely judged performance, and provides a lovely contrast to Sophia/Joyce’s behaviour when he finally leaves her on her own. She leaps up, takes off her dowdy coat dress, and “frisks” about the room in her jeans and tee-shirt, determined to enjoy herself. Nurse and the other servants, Bob and Henny Sapling, try to calm her down, or rather, Henny and the nurse do. Bob is a quiet character, mainly because Henny doesn’t let him say a word, as she reckons he’s too stupid to understand what’s going on, but he’s the one Sophia/Joyce gets on with best. She hates books, wants to have a good time, and she’s definitely one of the more enjoyable people in the play.

The various characters having been set up (we’ve also seen Sir Roderick rushing around, being crotchety and argumentative, and Mrs Wilmot approaching Lady Smatter to explain her innocence in leaving Wilmot), we now get a series of encounters and misunderstandings which give us a very funny hour or so. The real Sophia, a very well-behaved girl, meets Old Waverley, and believing him to be her uncle, Sir Roderick, appeals to him for support. He, knowing nothing of who she is, thinks she’s a prostitute, and that her mother is the one sending her out to ply her trade. While he’s censorious, he’s not immune to her charms, and decides to marry her. His son Jack is also bent on marriage with Sophia, and dresses up in Stevens’ clothes to visit her cottage, where his father has just had a confusing encounter with Mrs Wilmot. (She shares her husband’s melodramatic temperament – they would have gone down a bomb in Victorian times, from what I know of the period.) Jack spends some time avoiding his father, which is difficult in such a small room, and for once a father manages to recognise his son in disguise – is this a first?

Fearing that the game will soon be up, the nurse takes Sophia/Joyce to visit her supposed uncle, Sir Roderick, to see if she can get some money out of him. He’s actually won over by her direct ways, and then the real Sophia comes along, only to be rejected as an impostor. Sir Roderick decides to marry Jack off to Sophia/Joyce as a condition of his inheritance, much to Jack’s dismay.

Wilmot, having discovered prior to the play that his wife hadn’t left him for another man, has learned that she’s now living in the same village, and heads off to speak to her. Now he’s torn between the potential rapture of a reconciliation, and the horrendous prospect of repudiation. His emotional teeter-totter was great fun to watch. Then he learns that she’s living in the cottage with her daughter, and he assumes that she has in fact run off with another man, not the man he originally supposed, and is now living with her illegitimate daughter. Another torrent of emotions sweeps him away, but only to the corner of the stage, where Mrs Wilmot catches sight of him as she comes out looking for Sophia. They have a wonderfully melodramatic scene together, and gradually, as all the characters arrive on stage (except the doubled parts, obviously), the misunderstandings are resolved, and Joyce steps forward to confirm the real Sophia’s identity. Even Sir Roderick gets caught up in the general happiness, and ends up with his original intended, Lady Smatter. Joyce is happy, as she can now marry Bob, and Wilmot promises to take care of her. Sophia says little, but is a good and virtuous girl, and will not only do what she’s told, she’ll want to do it as well. All ends incredibly happily. Ah.

Given the thirteen actors involved in this production, it’s a wonder there were no injuries as they dashed about the place. Apart from the last scene, there were never more than about five actors on stage at any one time, though. The only furniture was a couch, a table and a chair, all painted to appear ornately gilded. To represent the final scene outdoors, some leaves fell down from above, which was a nice touch. I like it simple, although I wouldn’t mind seeing a lavish production of this as well – the full-on costumes and sets can give an extra dimension to some of these plays, reminding us just how superior these badly behaved people think themselves to be.

The performances were all nicely judged. Wilmot in particular was a tricky part to play, as his large histrionics have to be fitted into a small space, but Michael Elwyn pitched it beautifully. The costumes were an eclectic mix of period and present day. At the post-show discussion, this seemed to have caused a lot of confusion, but I found it quite liberating. It certainly emphasised the change of attitude when Sophia/Joyce flung off her coat dress to reveal the t-shirt and jeans.

I enjoyed this play enormously, what I saw of it, and it deserves more attention.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Noughts And Crosses – December 2007

8/10

Adapted by Dominic Cooke from the novel by Malorie Blackman

Directed by: Dominic Cooke

Company: RSC

Venue: Stratford Civic Hall

Date: Wednesday 19th December 2007

This was a powerful drama, well acted, and successfully aimed at the younger generation. Starting from the problems of racial segregation and repression, Malorie Blackman’s story of the love between a young boy and girl takes the Romeo and Juliet theme and turns things on their head, producing a modern story told by adolescents about the difficulties of growing up and leading a life of your own choosing when society’s prejudices stand in the way. A lot for one evening, and it’s amazing how it all gets fitted in – Dominic Cooke has adapted this really well, though not having read the book I can’t say how faithful he’s been, just that this works well as a drama.

I felt the first half was a bit slow, but it did set up the characters and situation well for us. The second half introduced the other family, and this helped to round out the relationships and the context of a repressive society. The plot concerns Callum, a young white man, and his friend Sephy, a young black woman. In this society, whites are called “noughts” and blacks, “crosses”, or “blanks” and “daggers”, respectively. This is a society in which black people are well off, in charge, and determined to keep it that way. White folk are despised, denied opportunities and treated like shit. Naturally, Callum and Sephy’s friendship doesn’t go down well with anyone, and they go through all sorts of ups and downs in their relationship to each other, as well as their family and friends, culminating in Callum’s refusal to save his own life as it would mean Sephy agreeing to abort their baby. The play ends with Sephy cradling her new born girl – a ray of hope for the future.

Along the way we get to see how people can become involved in violence and lose their way when so many bad things happen to them and their families. Callum’s sister was beaten up for dating a cross, and retreats into madness for a few years before killing herself. Callum’s Dad gets involved with a Liberation group, and allows himself to be convicted for setting off a bomb which killed seven people. He does this partly to protect his other son, Jude, who was involved, and partly out of grief for his daughter’s death (at least, that’s what I reckon). His determination to die leads him to attempt escape, which gets him killed. Sephy herself is beaten up at school for daring to sit with noughts at lunch. It’s a bleak picture, and yet there’s a lot of humour, and the love between the two main characters lightens much of the darkness. There’s a strong sense of compassion. We see the suffering in Sephy’s family – a mother who drinks, an absent father more interested in his political career than his family, and an unexplained rift between the two mothers, who had been on some sort of friendly footing until a few years before. Although the story is mostly told from the youngsters’ point of view, we do get to see the effect the social situation is having on the people around them.

The performance space was new to us. It’s basically a flat area with seats on three sides, and entrances in the corners. The two leads often came on and spoke directly to us without any props. When needed, furniture was brought on by the cast, chairs were held up until all were ready, and then slammed down together – very energetic and lively. Occasionally the people on stage would freeze, while Callum and Sephy would talk or move around them. It was a very direct style, and worked well, especially for the asides. With the audience on three sides, it was noticeable that the two leads were careful to include everyone, moving around as necessary, even when on the loo! (It’s in the small toilet cubicle which gets wheeled on to stage that Sephy gets beaten up.) When the characters turned on the TV for the news, the reporter would walk onto the stage, along with any interviewees, and speak directly to the viewers. Talk about having TV in your living room! I found this worked very well, as it emphasised the closeness there was between the characters in the action and what was being showing on TV.

The cast were excellent. The two leads – Richard Madden as Callum and Ony Uhiara as Sephy – gave superb performances, managing to grow up just the right amount over the two or three years of the action, maturing from gawky adolescents to young adults. The physical aspect of their love was also well done, developing from the first exploratory kiss, heads to one side, to full blown sex described only in words, but all the more powerful for that (for some things, less is more). Their first night together in Sephy’s bed was a lovely depiction of innocent love, and the way Sephy’s mother nearly caught him the next morning was very funny. Fortunately, Sephy’s ally Sarah, her mother’s secretary, helps out by pushing one of Callum’s shoes under the bed.

It’s difficult to single anyone else out, but I do want to mention Jo Martin as Sephy’s mother, Jasmine. She gave a wonderful sense of that character’s “hinterland”, her suffering as she gives in to try and make things work, the drinking to “smooth out the rough edges”, the support she gives secretly to help Callum’s father during his trial, and the unknown reason for all this – what happened those few years before that caused the rift between her and Callum’s mother?

Although I found it interesting to see this topsy-turvy view of racism, I didn’t really relate to either group. I found it hard to believe the noughts were really downtrodden – was that just my conditioning, or was I influenced by possibly unconscious body language from the actors? I can remember wanting to belong to a group when I was that age – we’d moved several times, and it always seemed hard to find like-minded friends of my own age – but I don’t ever remember wanting to create a “them” to support the “us”. Maybe I was lucky not to fall in with the “wrong” sort?

Looking back, probably the only criticism I can find is that the play does sometimes feel a bit like a checklist of discussion points to be covered. The action comes so thick and fast, especially in the second half (20 minutes longer than the first half), and the scenes are so short, that there’s not a lot of time for depth of character to develop. Actually, it’s surprising how much depth is achieved – another compliment to the actors and the adaptation.

Anyway, the play raised a lot of interesting questions, and more than usual I find myself wondering how I would handle some of these situations. The youngsters at the play tonight were obviously engaged as well, and I suspect there will be some interesting discussions as a result of this.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Chains – December 2007

8/10

By: Elizabeth Baker

Directed by: Auriol Smith

Venue: Orange Tree Theatre

Date: Saturday 15th December 2007

This was our first trip to the Orange Tree, and everything about it was enjoyable. The theatre itself is small but beautifully formed, has nice loos, and a civilised cup of tea at the start helped a lot. I noticed a sign about post-show discussions after every Thursday matinee, so that will be something to look forward to on our next visit.

The play was written in 1909, and gives a good account of life at that time for those at the bottom of the white collar employment ladder – the clerks. Supposedly in safe, well-paying jobs, they were being worked like machines (quill-drivers), and just as much at risk of losing their jobs as anyone nowadays. Or if they kept their job, it was only by accepting a salary cut.

We get to see the different opinions and choices made by a group of people in this category. Charley Wilson is a clerk with the usual far-off “prospects”, married to Lily. To make ends meet they have a lodger, Fred Tenant (bit obvious, that). Lily has a sister, Maggie, and a brother, Percy, both of whom look set to be married. Her parents, Alfred and Mrs Massey (honest, that’s what she’s called in the program), also appear after the interval, and there’s a neighbour, Morton Leslie, a big hulk of a man who keeps insisting on climbing over the wall and wreaking havoc on Charley’s garden every time, to sounds of clanging and clattering off stage.

The action starts as Charley and Fred arrive back after their Saturday (Saturday!) stint in the office, and Fred tells Charley he’s off to Australia to make a better life for himself. This is unsettling news for both husband and wife. Lily’s more concerned about getting another lodger; in fact she suggests to Charley later that they could get two lodgers, if he clears his plant cuttings out of the small bedroom. Charley’s upset because he also wants to break free from the chains of office life, and over the course of Saturday and Sunday he decides to make the break. The final revelation on Monday morning stops him in his tracks, and we see him taking on the burden of a monotonous life of drudgery in order to support his family. I’m still not sure whether Lily knows she’s won a sort of victory at the end, or whether her serenity, bordering on smugness, is just due to her natural good temper.

The set and the auditorium were as one. Intimate doesn’t fully describe the closeness. It looked like we’d invaded someone’s living room, put in the audience seats and audience, and let them carry on with their lives. The far wall had wallpaper and pictures on it, behind the audience, and people in the front row were centimetres from the action, if that. Mind you, the whole performance space was less than ten metres square, so cosiness is a given.

The first two acts and the last were in the same room – Charley and Lily’s living room – while act three, after the interval, was in Lily’s parent’s sitting room. The set was changed during the interval, and I was wondering how they’d change it back for the final scene. Different covers had been put on the settee and comfy chair, the fire, carpet and tables had all been moved, and it took a while. The actual change was a lovely piece of staging. Col Farrell, playing Mr Massey, stayed in character, while the other actors became stage hands and started moving all the furniture back in a very organised way. Mr Massey obviously wanted to carry on reading his paper and smoking his pipe, but kept being moved on by the others. Eventually, he sits in a wooden chair, thinking he’s done, and his wife comes along and snatches the paper away. By this time, the set has been completely changed, and he looks around in amazement, realises he’s in the wrong house, and scuttles off. Beautifully done.

All the performances were excellent. Amy Noble, as Lily, was in her first professional role, and carried it off remarkably well. Octavia Walters played Lily’s sister Maggie with a lot of spirit; she’s the one who supports Fred’s plans to go to Australia and helps to fuel Charley’s enthusiasm for a new life. Col Farrell was very good in a small role as Lily’s father, kind hearted but seeing no need for change, and Justin Avoth as Charley Wilson held it all together well. His difficulties in making up his mind were the central issue in the play, and we get to see a slice of Edwardian life that I hadn’t known about before. I found it a very well-written and interesting play, and a very good production.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

King Lear – December 2007

8/10

By: WIlliam Shakespeare

Directed by: Trevor Nunn

Company: RSC

Venue: New London Theatre

Date: Wednesday 12th December 2007

This was a definite improvement on the Courtyard performance. For one thing, we could see what was happening on stage from the start, and although I didn’t get a headset, I found I could hear pretty much everything as well. There was one change to the cast that we noticed – Frances Barber was indisposed, and so we got to see Melanie Jessop play Goneril, which she did at the start of the run in Stratford but without being reviewed. I probably preferred Frances Barber, of the two, but this wasn’t bad at all.

Before I forget, I’ll just mention the palaver at the start, as about 400 women queued for about ten loos, causing the start to be delayed by a few minutes. This was why I didn’t get a headset, and God knows why we were sent into the auditorium from the wrong end of a very long row! Not the best start, but once the play got underway, I soon settled down to enjoy myself. I will also add that there was relatively little coughing, especially during the first half, although the mobile phones in the second half must have been unpleasant for those that heard them. (Four, according to Steve – I just caught the ice-cream van one near us.)

Enough of that stuff. The stage here was less thrust than in Stratford, and this suited the set much better – the action at the back wasn’t so far away. In addition, the open nature of the auditorium (more like Chichester’s main stage) made the action seem to come forward more. We were practically straight on to the centre of the stage, and got a really good view of everything.

The opening bit with Lear demonstrating spiritual as well as political leadership of his people was OK. It does set up his dominance, and also gets the opening characters on stage plausibly. I liked William Gaunt’s Gloucester in this – he’s well-meaning but gullible, and apart from Kent’s passionate reactions, he’s the main source for our emotional response to the way the King’s being treated. Or perhaps I should call him the ex-King, as his loss of power is very clearly demonstrated here.

We finally saw the speeches, as Lear stood at the lectern and used his cards to prompt himself. The court was obviously used to pandering to his every whim, and understood the need to flatter him, although the sisters were a bit unsure to begin with. I noticed this time that Cordelia stood at the back, didn’t give us her asides, and seemed to regard it all as a joke on her father’s part. Perhaps this explains her different relationship with him – her sisters know how unreliable he is and have suffered too much at his hands, while Cordelia indulges and is indulged. Boy, is she in for a surprise.

I didn’t see Regan reacting to the gift of territory this time – last time she was clearly thinking her portion wasn’t big enough; she’s a girl who always wants more. Cordelia still thinks it’s all a joke when she starts off at the lectern, but it all goes rapidly downhill when she doesn’t trot out the paean of praise her father expects. Her shock is clear, and was well played. I always like the bit where France takes up “what’s cast away” – sniff, sniff. After Cordelia’s “farewells” to her sisters (more like “drop dead, you bitches” in this performance), Regan and Goneril discuss the situation, and here it’s clear that Regan just hasn’t been attending those AA meetings. She snaffles not one but two drinks this time, the second on her way out.

The letter scene between Edmund and Gloucester was well done. I was even more aware this time that Gloucester had earlier come back on stage with France and Burgundy just as Kent is leaving to go into exile. His comments about the situation seem more pertinent because he’s only just caught up on events, and his use of an actual pamphlet to read out the predictions was a nice touch. Of course, the predictions are all going to happen, so it’s double fun to hear Edmund ridicule his father’s gullibility – partly because he’s right in general terms, and partly because he’s wrong as far as this play goes. Edgar, probably the only decent man in the play, made it clear that spending two hours in conversation with his father was a real snooze-fest. Ben Meyjes’s performance was just as good as I remembered from last time, with no significant changes that I noticed.

When Lear comes on with his cronies for his après-hunting drink before dinner, the rowdiness was either more than before or just more noticeable on the trimmed down stage. There seemed to be more interaction among the group during this scene than I remember, and the early signs of Lear’s madness are evident. Goneril didn’t react as strongly to his cursing, although she did still collapse, and the fool’s comments all came across clearly. “Nothing” is the key word of this play, and Lear’s response to one of the fool’s enquires echoes Cordelia’s “nothing” perfectly. He’s quite a good writer, this Shakespeare chap.

When Kent, in disguise, arrives at Gloucester’s place, there’s a party in full swing inside, and he’s waiting outside when Goneril’s servant arrives. Kent’s standing in front of the light, so naturally the other guy can’t see who he is, and the next thing he knows he’s being attacked, when he has nothing but his cowardice to defend him. Edmund takes a hand, and soon everyone comes out. Believe it or not, Regan doesn’t actually have a drink with her! But a tray with four goblets is brought out, and trust me, she has three of them.

I’ve just realised how Kent’s deliberate rudeness to this group both echoes and contrasts with Cordelia’s unintentional slight of Lear in the opening scene. Cordelia hardly says anything, Kent says plenty; she’s sent away, he’s put in the stocks. I do get Cornwall’s point, though; it’s easy enough for people to be rude and cover it up by claiming they’re just “plain speakers”, but then spin cuts both ways. Flattery can cover a multitude of sins as well.

From here it’s much as before. I keep recognising the validity of the sisters’ arguments – Lear has set up an almost impossible situation for them, and I’m not convinced even Cordelia would have been able to handle it, if she’d stayed. It’s often easier to be the one who comes in now and again, and who doesn’t have to put up with the daily grind of looking after an ageing parent. But of course they are two villainous bitches (apologies to any female dogs offended by that last comparison), and that was brought out fully in this production. It helped that Lear was relatively sympathetic – misguided and stupid, but not specifically malicious or monstrous. The sort of chap who was pampered and flattered as he grew up as heir to the throne, and never really got a sound grasp of reality, nor learned how to deal with setbacks. As long as everything went fine for him, he was easy enough to get on with, but woe betide anyone who crossed him, as he wouldn’t be able to handle it reasonably.

One other change I noticed was the way that Regan draped herself erotically against some poles when she gets a chance to be alone with Edmund. She whipped her coat off so quick she risked getting friction burns, and flung herself provocatively onto the prop, just before he turned round and saw her. Nifty work.

The fight between Edmund and Edgar looked a little weak this time, as if they’re getting a bit jaded. Some of the movements didn’t make sense, and didn’t seem to connect properly, and the energy wasn’t as focused. Kent’s departure at the end had him actually taking his gun out of his holster, an advance on last time, making it even clearer that he’s off to kill himself. In fact, I was half-expecting a gunshot off stage after Edgar’s closing lines – it would have added tremendously to the emotional impact at that point.

The whole production had a tremendous amount of detail, and all the performances were good, but the central part of Lear is key, and Ian McKellen’s performance was outstanding. I’ve already mentioned that this Lear was more sympathetic than most, but McKellen’s depiction of Lear’s emotional journey into madness was superb. It started early, was soundly based on Lear’s personality and developed in an intelligible manner, beautifully paced. It’s perfectly logical that he should strip off when he does (and it doesn’t hurt the box office).

As a general point, we find that Trevor Nunn’s productions are clear, decisive, and tend to the literal interpretation. For example, Lear’s comment at the end “and my poor fool is hanged”, which has been interpreted in various ways, is here demonstrated just before the interval, when Cornwall’s soldiers capture Gloucester and hang the fool. It’s a style of production that brings out a great deal of the plot and makes every line significant, and there’s much to commend it.

However, I still found myself not able to applaud for long afterwards. I did enjoy myself, and found it a very comprehensive and clear performance, with many individual highlights, and a strong sense of understanding the play, but I didn’t feel as enthused as for some Shakespeare productions. I’m very glad we saw it again, and from a better angle, as well as in a more supportive performance space, and I would recommend it to anyone (if you could get the tickets!), but I still felt a lack of connection somewhere – an intelligent but not necessarily a heartfelt production.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Cloud Nine – December 2007

8/10

By: Caryl Churchill

Directed by: Thea Sharrock

Venue: Almeida Theatre

Date: Saturday 8th December 2007

We’d seen this play back in the 80s at Chichester. Neither of us could remember much about it apart from Tom Hollander dressed as a little girl. We weren’t sure how good this afternoon’s performance was going to be, and our low expectations gave us ample scope to enjoy this production, which seemed much funnier and more interesting than we expected.

The play was originally developed during a workshop period, with Caryl Churchill going off and writing the piece after the actors and director had explored a specific topic, in this case sexual politics. For the first half, we see a family out in Africa in Victorian times, supporting Queen and country, and seething with repressed and expressed passions of all kinds. With mixed gender roles – the son is played by a woman, the mother by a man – there’s a lively sense of fun which reminded Steve of farce. The set is simple – a round raked disc (is this a theme? – Thea Sharrock did the same thing with The Emperor Jones) with a square flat platform in the middle, a doorway with a couple of windows, and a bench. Sophie Stanton, who played two characters in this half, had a lot of quick changes to do, but otherwise the characters stayed the same throughout.

In the second half, we see the family group twenty-five years on, but in terms of the outside world, we’re now in 1979, in London. This strange warping of time works remarkably well. Victorian attitudes lingered on for longer than necessary anyway, and this juxtaposition shows up the changes more clearly than a more realistic timescale would have. It’s also good fun, as when the Victorian characters reappear from time to time – more quick changes, but for everyone this time. There’s no real plot, just the characters discovering what works for them and what doesn’t.

For example, Betty the mother is now a prim, uptight sexually repressed woman who worries for England and gradually finds her feet, and her clitoris, by the end of the play. Her daughter Vicky, played rather well by a doll in the first half, now emerges as a woman in her own right, but so far up the collective gender political backside that we sometimes need subtitles to understand her. Her determination to find herself as a woman makes it virtually impossible for her man, Martin, to know where he stands. I found myself wondering if these scenes were funnier now that we’ve moved on a bit from those situations, or if this is just a much funnier production.

The son, Edward, now played by a man instead of a girl, has accepted his homosexuality, and is content to be a wife to some man. Unfortunately, his partner of choice is rampantly unfaithful, so Martin ends up living with Vicky and her lesbian lover, Lin – a more interesting ménage-a-trois than most. The next generation consist of Cathy, Lin’s daughter, whom we see, and Tommy, Martin and Vicky’s son, whom we don’t. Cathy is played by James Fleet, who also played the father in the first half, all rugged colonial with a moustache and a hard-on for another woman. The moustache stayed on for part two, and although it didn’t entirely go with the pink frock, after a while we got used to it. I won’t be disappointed if it doesn’t become the fashion, though.

The play ends with Betty of old coming on to be embraced by Betty of now. It wasn’t a bad ending – I just felt we hadn’t concentrated on Betty enough to make it a completely fitting ending. However, this is probably a compliment to the fine ensemble work that kept the whole piece entertaining all the way through.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me