Category Archives: 8/10

Absurdia – August 2007

8/10

By: N F Simpson/Michael Frayn

Directed by: Douglas Hodge

Venue: Donmar Theatre

Date: Thursday 30th August 2007

This was a combination of three plays, the first two by N F Simpson, and the third by Michael Frayn, each revelling in the absurdist style. Before the first play, a group of bowler-hatted suits brought on the furniture. The set was the wall of a room, with some shelves, a window, a door and a rectangular floor surrounded by gravel. There were net curtains at the window and flowery wallpaper on the wall. Above, the A-shape of the roof topped it all. Otherwise, the set was bare until the furniture arrived.

One of the suited gentlemen (a couple were actually ladies) was played by John Hodgkinson, one of the actors. I assume the others were stage crew. They brought on a small table with a radio on it, another small table with a telephone, a bigger table and a couple of chairs, and a wastepaper basket. Then, when everything was in order, John Hodgkinson announced “There will now be an interval.” Much laughter.

The first play, A Resounding Tinkle, was an edited version of the full text, though we didn’t know this at the time. It deals with the concerns of a couple who find the elephant they ordered has arrived while they were out, and it’s much too large this year. They wanted a smaller elephant, but as they weren’t in when it was delivered they couldn’t tell the delivery men to take it back. A neighbour has had a similar problem – her snake is too small. There’s a lot of discussion of what they’re going to do, and some repeated dialogue, which creates a lovely sense of unreality. They also have a visit from Uncle Ted, who’s moved on from an interest in motorbikes and gone for a sex change instead. Few people would have an Uncle Ted with such a perfect female body, yet they take it all in their stride. After a few refreshing lines of literature to help him perk up, Uncle Ted joins them in listening to the service on the radio – a wonderful spoof of a church service with nonsense lines and responses. Then Uncle Ted has to leave to get his train back, and they’re left with the elephant/snake problem. They agreed to swap with their neighbour, but end up with a matchbox-sized snake. The wife is also wrapping raffia round a wire-frame light shade in her spare moments.

I enjoyed this enormously. I love the absurdist way of taking normal conventions and structures, and putting in absurd content. The performances were excellent, and established recognisable character types, even if the details were well crazy.

After this part, and once the actors were clear of the stage, the back wall of the house was let down on wires, and we could see a similar back wall but decorated differently. The playlet this time was Gladly Otherwise, a short piece which dealt with the visit of an official-looking man (John Hodgkinson, still in bowler hat and suit) to check up on the couple’s knobs – door knobs, that is, plus any other knobs they might have. The husband sat in a corner reading the paper, mostly screened by the door, while the official spoke with the wife. It was over fairly quickly, and was an enjoyable snippet, with some good lines. Again, excellent performances.

For the final piece, The Crimson Hotel, the rest of the house came down, and we had a relatively bare set. The idea of this play was that a writer of French farces, knowing that taking his lover to a hotel will inevitably bring her husband to the same hotel and even to the same room, has taken his mistress-to-be to a completely deserted space – nothing around for miles – in order to seduce her. Of course, she’s perfectly willing to be seduced, but finds the great outdoors a bit disconcerting. As she’s the leading actress in his latest play, they play around with the emptiness, pretending to open doors and check in wardrobes, and find the door actually squeaks! When one of them turns the light out, they can’t see. Finally, as they settle onto the bed/rug, they glimpse a figure in the distance – her husband! After calculating they don’t have enough time for nooky and getting dressed again afterwards so they can pretend complete innocence before he gets there, they run about trying to find somewhere to hide. Eventually, they end up in the small case they brought the picnic in, while we hear the voices of the husband and his lover, another actress in the company.

This really was absurd, and excellently so. The intermingling of French farce and the absurdist style worked brilliantly together, and I loved the combination of logic and nonsense. The miming was good fun, and there was also lots of repetition, as they went through the lines of the play. Lots of echoes and layers. The performances were, yet again, excellent, and my only complaint was that it took less than two hours for the lot. Wonderful fun.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Our Man In Havana – August 2007

8/10

Adapted by Clive Francis from the novel by Graham Greene

Directed by: Richard Baron

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Friday 24th August 2007

This version of Our Man In Havana was great fun. I was vaguely aware of the story, though I haven’t seen the film nor read the book, so I was very open to see what they would do. This wasn’t the first performance but it was the second, so I wanted to give as much response as I could to help them get the feel of it. Also, one of the cast had had to be changed at short notice – Clive Francis came on at the start to make an announcement about it – so the replacement actor had only had a few days to learn lots of parts. Poor chap.

The set was really amazing. There were slatted screens across the back, which could be turned into doors, the side walls of a toilet cubicle, etc. Various desks and tables slid on and off and the cast were very good at bringing on the extras – chairs, drinks, etc. For one scene they even made the changes while dancing! Another panel to our right could be a shrine or Wormold’s desk, and there were so many variations that within a few seconds we could be anywhere we liked. There was even a map of that part of the Caribbean which came down every so often and a model plane on a stick which flew across from one side of the stage to the other – the sort of thing I really enjoy. I did find the lighting a little awkward at times – it left the actors’ faces in shadow a bit too often during the early stages – but hopefully they’ll sort that one out as they go.

It took about twenty minutes for the play to really get going – the first part obviously introduced all the characters and set the scene. It wasn’t a bad start, but there was so much to take in and my headset wasn’t working, so I had to concentrate to keep up. Also I found the amount of scene changing a bit distracting at first but that soon settled down. Once we got to the start of the fake agents, though, the whole performance took off. I loved the way the other actors came on and played out Wormold’s fantasies as he developed his list of agents.

From here, it’s a wonderful ride through the intricacies of Wormold’s web of deceit. The idea of senior Whitehall officials being fooled by large scale pictures of a vacuum cleaner was hugely entertaining, and I felt genuinely moved when Dr Hasselbacher died. Oh, and the dog that got poisoned was another great moment, as were Hawthorne’s (Clive Francis) reactions as he realised what Wormold had been up to, but felt he couldn’t expose him as he was receiving congratulations all round for finding him. Clive also had a great deal of fun with his portrayal of Teresa the stripper, as did we.

There’s too much to write it all down, so I do hope they produce a text for this. Other than Simon Shepherd, who was only Wormold and helped with the narration, each actor played a massive number of parts, and they got across the changes very well. Their adrenalin levels must be through the roof during each performance, as they have a lot to do and they all did the various roles extremely well. I certainly didn’t notice that one of the company was any less well rehearsed than the others. I hope we get a chance to see this again.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Hobson’s Choice – August 2007

8/10

By: Harold Brighouse

Directed by: Jonathan Church

Venue: Chichester Festival Theatre

Date: Wednesday 22nd August 2007

I love this play, and tonight we saw a very good production of it. The set was the shop floor which covered about two-thirds of the stage, with the outer third showing us the street outside. Before the start, someone was working with some boots or some such in the gloom, and a big grid with boots hanging off it was all around him. I guess this was suggesting the basement workshop in Hobson’s shop. In the run up to the start, this grid was lifted, and the chap disappeared off stage. I suspect he was Dylan Charles, who plays Willie Mossop, as he told us later in the post-show that he’d done some leather working in preparation for the role. (Didn’t think to ask if it was him, sorry.)

Once the grid was up, we could see the shop interior properly. It was a beautifully detailed setting, with lots of boots on the shelves, and various boxes etc. To our right, near the front of the stage, was a tall desk with the account books, and there was a small settee to our left, with a few plain chairs here and there. The shop door was far left, and the entrance to the living area was to our right.

The plot is straightforward so I won’t cover it again, but I will say that as well as enjoying the performances, I was reminded of how well written and structured the play is. I noticed how, in the final act, the sisters set us up to really appreciate the change in Willie, by going on about how timid they know him to be. I could also see the echoes of Shakespeare – The Taming of the Shrew and King Lear. The only weakness appeared to be John Savident as Hobson, who didn’t seem to have all his lines fully at his command, though as he was playing drunk some of the time, it didn’t always matter so much. Willie and Maggie (Carolyn Backhouse) were excellent, and the rest of the cast played their parts, even the small ones, to the hilt. This was a really good night out, and I hope they do well on tour.

At the post-show there was some silliness about how authentic the accents were – given that they were attempting to recreate the spoken Lancashire of the period I’m amazed anyone wanted to complain, but Northerners can be so touchy! The cast had done some individual research, and we found out that it was only ten years before the action of the play that a law had been passed forbidding men from beating their wives or daughters, making more sense of some of the comments early on about how useful it is to have a wife to keep daughters in line. The cast seemed to be very well integrated, and everyone joined in. I got the impression they’re all impressed by this play, and enjoying doing it. Good luck on tour!

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry IV part 2 – August 2007

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Richard Twyman

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Thursday 2nd August 2007

This was a huge improvement on part 1 which we saw a couple of nights ago. The play starts with Rumour, played by Forbes Masson, who enters dressed as Bagot and dragging Richard’s coffin, which he opens. This releases Richard’s ghost, who wanders off and reappears occasionally. Rumour then tells us all about his work, making it clear that the stories Northumberland is about to hear are false. Sure enough, he hears the wrong story first, and there’s some posturing as the messengers try to make out their story is the accurate one. A third messenger has the right story, and Percy knows the worst. I found this a bit boring, and couldn’t always make out the lines, and the staging was still pretty static.

The next scene gives us John Falstaff checking on his urine test, complaining about his mate the Prince, complaining when he can’t get what he wants in the way of goods, and then being upbraided by the Lord Chief Justice (Richard Cordery). I was paying more attention this time to Richard’s performance, to see how his rehearsal process might affect it, and he certainly was paying attention all the time to what was happening on stage.

Falstaff pretends to be deaf, and there was lots of humour. David Warner really seems to have grown into the part. At the end of this long scene he sends Peto to deliver some letters, and take something to Ursula – for this he takes out a carrot – plenty of double entendres there.

Next the rebels plotting together – a long speech from the Archbishop, and much concern about the likely success of their actions. Then it’s a lovely scene where Mistress Quickly tries to arrest Falstaff over the money he owes her. Along comes the Lord Chief Justice, and hears her complaint. As well as denying her the money he owes her, Sir John is reneging on his promise to marry her, but it looks like she’ll forgive him if they do wed. This was a great performance from Maureen Beattie. Honest, respectable woman that she is, she can’t help flaunting herself at the Lord Chief Justice, showing off her tits, wiggling and pouting, all very “respectable”  but liable to be misinterpreted! The Lord Chief Justice sees past all Falstaff’s prevarication, and pushes him to make amends to Mistress Quickly, which he does with more promises, getting more money out of her all the time. Meanwhile news comes of the King’s army, and they head off to the wars.

Harry and Poins are next. Poins pushes the bed on, with Harry asleep on it, and with his finger on his lips, invites us to keep quiet. Then he pulls the cover off Harry, who reacts quickly. Their conversation clearly shows that Harry is beginning to adjust his thinking and his behaviour to reflect his own noble position more – a warning to the audience that he will be renouncing his former companions before long. Bardolph arrives with a letter from Falstaff, warning Hal not to be too friendly with Poins, as Poins wants Harry to marry his sister. Poins semi-denies this, and here I got the impression that he might well have been thinking about it. They decide to spy on Falstaff that night, disguised as tapsters.

Next Northumberland, his wife, and Hotspur’s wife enter. Despite his intention to join the rebels, Hotspur’s wife points out, at length, that he broke his oath when he failed to turn up to help his son, so he might as well fail these other people, of so much less worth than her dead husband. With his wife joining in the pleas, he decides to head for Scotland.

At the tavern, the tapsters are in the know about the Prince and Poins’ ruse, Mistress Quickly and Doll Tearsheet are the worse for wear, but Doll does at least feel better after throwing up (thankfully faked). Doll and Falstaff quarrel, and when Pistol is announced, Mistress Quickly refuses to let him in, saying she can’t abide “swaggerers”. Her hands are really shaking. Falstaff persuades her that Pistol is a gentle man, and well behaved, so she allows him in. Unfortunately, he’s as quarrelsome as they come (would any sane person actually believe what Falstaff tells them?), and with Doll having a go at him with a knife (they’ve all had too much to drink), he draws his sword. Mistress Quickly manages to calm him down a bit, though the way she strokes his sword wouldn’t normally have that effect on a man. Steve reckons it’s a good job he didn’t have a pistol, as it would have gone off!

Eventually the brawling gets too much, and Pistol is hit over the head and falls into the basement. Falstaff and Doll are getting on better now, and he talks to her of the Prince and Poins, insulting them. They reveal themselves – they’d only just arrived, with moustaches to disguise themselves – by shouting “Anon, anon, sir” when Sir John calls for more sack. Hal challenges Falstaff to worm his way out of the insults he’s just heard, which he does by saying he dispraised the Prince before wicked people so that they would not love him. Harry is testing him by asking whether each person there is wicked or not, and Falstaff’s just about managing OK, but then Peto comes with news of the gathering forces, and Hal realises he has to get to court. Falstaff is also called for, and off they all go.

Now King Henry graces us with his presence, and after sending off some letters, tells us all about insomnia. It’s much worse for kings, he reckons (why are so many powerful people such self-indulgent wimps?). Then the lords he wrote to turn up, as quick as if he’d texted them (impressive), and they discuss the situation briefly. Again, Henry is more caught up with how things have changed, and recognises that Richard II’s earlier prophecy about the split between him and Northumberland had some truth to it. Warwick puts things into perspective and helps to steady Henry’s resolve – altogether a calming influence. Obviously, Henry’s feeling the guilt, and this scene prepares us for his coming illness and death. I felt there was still some more to come here – not all of the “why can’t I get any sleep when all these ordinary people can” whinge came across clearly.

Now we had the interval, and during it, young Davy, servant to Justice Shallow, sets up the stage for the next scene in Gloucestershire. There’s a lot of funny business here – Matt Costain, Director of Rope Work, plays the part, and he needs a lot of gymnastic ability. He tried to pick up three folding stools, leaving each stool where it was while he went for the others, and of course they all fell over. Then he spent some time attaching bunting to the tower at the back. The first attachment point was in reach, but the second, round to the right, was too high, so he had to get a ladder. He wasn’t in quite the right position, so he shifted the ladder several times without getting off it, making it more and more precarious, until eventually it fell over, and left him clinging to the railing of the tower. There was a bit of audience participation here, as he signalled to those on the right-hand side to help him. Eventually one did, the ladder was restored, and the bunting was attached. Hooray! As he closed up the ladder, he reacted as if he’d caught a tender part of his anatomy in it – an old trick, but never let it be said we’re not easily pleased.

We had been looking forward to the next scene, Shallow and Silence, since this morning’s talk from Jonathan Bate, about Shakespeare and the law. He has an interesting theory on the go that Will may have spent some of his missing time in the Inns of Court, possibly even Clement’s Inn, but as he intends to publish, he didn’t want us to spread it too widely beforehand. Anyway, he read out a lot of the opening part of this scene, and very entertainingly, so that my appetite was whetted. I’ve often lost a lot of this dialogue and tended to regard Shallow and Silence as being on a par with Dogberry – you have to put up with them, but the more they can be cut the better. This time, I understood the lines much better, both from Jonathan’s reading, and from the performances.

After the two old men get through their reminiscences, or rather Shallow’s reminiscences as Silence lives up to his name for the most part, Falstaff arrives to enrol the men that Shallow has provided for the King’s army. Mouldy does indeed look pretty foul, and the reactions of the others suggest a lack of personal hygiene. Shadow is very white and ghost-like, and tends to faint easily, not the best constitution for a soldier, one would think. Wart is bent almost double, and Francis Feeble is as tasty a pantomime young man as one would wish to see (played by Katy Stephens). He’s also the only one who comes close to being courageous. Bullcalf is big and strong, and it looks like he’s the pick of the bunch, but once Falstaff and Shallow go in for dinner, the real transfer negotiations take place (isn’t that always the way?). Bullcalf and Mouldy bung Bardolph several pounds to avoid conscription, and amazingly enough Bardolph and Sir John keep faith with them, taking all the others instead. Shadow faints (again).

Falstaff tells Bardolph to give the new enlistees guns, which they take out of the chest they’ve brought with them. Bardolph gives Wart a rifle, and shows him how to shoulder arms, ending with bringing the gun to his middle front. When Wart tries it, apart from being a lot more shaky, he ends up banging the gun on the ground in front of him, which makes it fire! Bardolph takes the gun away again, and they troop off.

Falstaff promises to visit Justice Shallow again, and once left alone on stage proceeds to tell us how he plans to “fetch off these justices”. He’s upset with Shallow both for lying and for having done so well for himself despite being such a pathetic fellow at Clement’s Inn. This is the nastier side of Falstaff, and it comes across pretty well. (If I remember rightly, Davy removes the bunting at some point, possibly before, possibly after this speech.)

Now we see the rebels again, preparing their forces for war. Northumberland has sent his apologies, and news comes of the King’s forces led by his son John. The Duke of Westmoreland arrives, from Prince John, to ask what grievances the rebels have. They talk. And they talk. And they talk. Unlike the Henry VI’s, this isn’t martial banter, this is political manoeuvring. Both sides are attempting to take the moral high ground, and the language is quite dense. I certainly didn’t pick up all of it at the time, although I got the gist.

Finally, Westmoreland takes a list of the rebel’s complaints to the Prince, and they discuss whether they can trust his word or not. Of course, they can’t, but Hastings and the Archbishop seem to be the trusting sort. With the arrival of the Prince, declaring that he’ll satisfy their demands, peace appears to break out, but sadly the rebel troops disperse too quickly, and soon the Prince’s officers surround and arrest the rebel leaders. I notice the same level of sneakiness with both Falstaff and the Prince – effective strategies though they may be, I’m not keen on the lack of integrity on show. Also, I think some of the drinking lines were cut, as there seemed to be very little gap between the peace agreement and the arrests.

The next scene is a short one, designed, it would seem, mainly to remind us that now the battle is over, Sir John is heading back to Gloucestershire to tackle Justice Shallow. Falstaff comes across a wounded knight, and takes him prisoner, as he’s too injured to fight. The Prince and Westmoreland turn up, and the Prince chides Sir John for arriving so late to the party. Falstaff’s response is breathtakingly cheeky. The prisoner is led off to be executed with the rest of the captured rebels, and the Prince heads off to London to see his father, who is now sick. Left alone again, Falstaff rails against abstemious men, extolling the virtues of sherry sack, and swearing he would have all his sons, if he had any, learn to drink this magic liquid. Off he heads to see the Justice again.

Back in London, the King is in a wheelchair, and in his bedroom. Most of his sons are present, but not Harry. He warns young Clarence to keep well in with Hal when he succeeds, and act as a mediator to help prevent his excesses from damaging their relationships. He’s very worried about what will happen once he’s gone, and convinced that his son will not make a good king, although he is aware of some of his good qualities.

Warwick again puts in a more balanced view, stating that Hal is only finding out what goes on amongst the lower classes, but the king’s not persuaded. News of the victories arrives – Westmoreland tells the king of Prince John’s success, while another messenger informs us all that Northumberland and the Scots have been defeated by the Sheriff of Yorkshire. Despite the good news, the king swoons, and has to be helped to bed. Although he recovers a bit, he wants to be left alone to rest, so they exit. Prince Hal has just arrived, and decides to stay with his father. The crown is lying on a pillow to the right of the king – he fought hard to get it, and he’s not letting it out of his sight now!

I noticed as he was put on the bed that a few feathers drifted down to land on him. I wondered if it was planned, and now it was confirmed. After ruminating on the pressures of kingship (Elizabeth must have loved Will’s work – he’s always pointing out the hardships that royalty has to endure), Hal notices that a feather isn’t moving, and despite not having any medical training, jumps to the conclusion that dad’s snuffed it. What cheek! A few words of sorrow, and then he puts on the crown and runs off with it, though only to the next room, presumably to adjust to his newly-acquired status.

When the king wakes up, he calls for company, and on hearing that Hal is around, asks to see him. Nobody knows where he’s gone, and then the king spots the empty pillow! I could envisage alarms and sirens going off, security doors slamming shut, all based on King Henry’s rage at finding his son has prematurely taken the crown. Warwick, ever the calming influence, tells the king that Hal is next door, sobbing his heart out (bless).

Now for some of the biggest speeches in the play. Henry and Hal have a heart-to-heart – it’s a bit like Jerry Springer, but a bit more civilised. The King accuses Hal of all the things he’s worried about – that he’ll let all his drunken, criminal buddies have power when he’s King and ruin the state. Only he takes a lot longer to say it than that (46 lines). Hal then responds (39 lines) with one of the most grovelling apologies I’ve ever heard. Several thoughts struck me. One is how noble he suddenly sounds, another is that the performance by Geoffrey Streatfield is growing on me, and the other is that I’ve never really understood Hal’s motivation in seeming worse than he is to gain greater glory when he shows his true colours. I’m sure it makes sense to him, but so far it’s escaped me.

King Henry (43 lines) is so taken with Hal’s speech, that he’s reconciled to him on the spot, and sits him down on the bed for some fatherly advice on how to run the family firm. Basically, prevent civil strife at home by fighting wars abroad (why does that sound familiar?). Once done, he feels bad again, and asks to be taken to Jerusalem (the room, not the city) to die.

Back in Gloucestershire, Shallow is combining dealing with household affairs, insisting Falstaff stays for longer, and considering a plea from Davy to help a friend of his. As Davy is also sorting out the household affairs, it makes for a very confused scene. Again, it ends with Falstaff having another go at Shallow, privately, to us. This would be boring if it weren’t for the improved performance of David Warner as Falstaff – it was much more entertaining than Part 1.

With the King now dead, the new king’s brothers meet the Lord Chief Justice to tell him the news. All are convinced that the Lord Chief Justice is in for a hard time now that Hal has become King, as he had Hal committed to prison for striking him when he was acting with the King’s power and authority. However, Henry V enters less brashly than expected, and speaks gently to his brothers, assuring them they are all safe. He got a good laugh on the line “This is the English not the Turkish court”. He does challenge the Lord Chief Justice, true, but his response is so upstanding that either it reassures Hal, or it persuades him not to take revenge, and he confirms the Lord Chief Justice in his position, promising to be guided by him as by a father.

Back with Falstaff and the Justices, Davy comes on to spread a picnic for them. A pit had been prepared, and Davy produces a frying pan and starts to cook something – too far away to tell what. Various requests for wine go unanswered; Falstaff in particular appears to have an empty cup for a long while. Silence has obviously been at the sherry – he sings several songs, interrupting the dialogue, and then sinking back down on the bench at the back. All is jollity, and then Pistol arrives to announce the old King’s death and the crowning of Prince Hal as Henry V. They’re all convinced Falstaff is a made man, and rush off to London, where Mistress Quickly and Doll Tearsheet have just been arrested. As the beadles take them away, Doll Tearsheet and Mistress Quickly get in plenty of rich insults. Doll appears to be pregnant, but as the beadle observes, it’s only a cushion. It’s a short scene, presumably to allow others to regroup and change if need be, but also to flag up the coming rejection of Falstaff by the new King.

For the final scene, Falstaff and his entourage arrive from all corners, clambering onto the stage in their haste to become part of the power elite. Falstaff excuses his bedraggled state as showing how much he wanted to see Hal again, and Pistol brings the news of Doll’s arrest. They gather round the main stage, waiting for the procession from the coronation.

King Henry arrives, walking down the circular stairs in the tower, followed by the Lord Chief Justice and his family. He’s done up in a white suit with a cloak and the crown, looking very regal. He ignores Falstaff’s greetings, telling the Lord Chief Justice to talk to “that vain man”. Henry then makes it clear he is no longer going to involve himself in the life he led before, and all the people he knew from that time are banished from the court. He does show some kindness in granting them an allowance to avoid penury, and promising to reward them with positions as they earn them. Off he goes, leaving Falstaff’s crew totally undone. Sir John tries to put a brave face on it, by claiming the King will send for him in private – this was just the public “spin” – but Shallow’s not buying it. He’s lent Sir John a thousand pounds, and wants it back – he’ll be waiting even longer than Mistress Quickly, I reckon.

Finally, the Lord Chief Justice enters, and has them all sent to the Fleet Prison, while the Lord Chief Justice and Prince John discuss this satisfactory outcome (at least, it is for them). Prince John reckons they’ll soon be sending soldiers off to France – a little bird told him. Could he be right? We’ll have to wait till November to find out!

I enjoyed this performance a lot more than Part 1. The story came across better, the staging was more entertaining (especially Davy’s business with the bunting), and I heard almost every line clearly. I still feel there’s more to come, especially in the final scene with the reactions from Falstaff and his group. This Prince Hal certainly changes over the plays, but other performances have conveyed this even better for me, and I do hope this role comes on before November.

The performances I particularly liked were Julius D’Silva as Bardolph and Maureen Beattie as Mistress Quickly. Julius was part of the Spanish Golden Age season a few years back and it’s nice to see him return, although neither of us recognised him at first with all the makeup he wears. He certainly seems to fill the role very well. Maureen Beattie gets a lot of the humour out of her part, more so than I can remember from other productions, and she can scream invective as well as the best of them, not that Mistress Quickly gets many opportunities for that. Forbes Masson as Rumour gave us one of those threads through time that are integral to these productions, and there were many other enjoyable performances. In general, the play seemed better balanced and happier than Part 1 – roll on Henry V.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Gaslight – July 2007

8/10

By: Frederick Knott

Directed by: Peter Gill

Venue: Old Vic Theatre

Date: Wednesday 25th July 2007

This was good fun. It’s a well-known story, so I don’t have to explain much. The performances were excellent, getting as much detail as you could possibly get out of each character. The whole production was just about perfect, the set and costumes all contributing to the overall effect.

First, the set. The detail was amazing. For once, we actually get to see the hall and stairs outside of the living room, and the dressing room to the left where ex-Detective Rough hides. The main room is full of knick-knacks, the walls lined with pictures (apart from the obvious gap), and everything was draped with heavy fabrics. Above the walls, we could see some chimney tops and sky, which I felt was the only slight (and I emphasise slight) negative for the design. The significance of the noises in the upstairs room is lessened when there doesn’t seem to be an upstairs to have strange noises.

Rosamund Pike as Bella Manningham gave a marvellous central performance. She reminded me of Grace Kelly – she has the same luminous quality, projecting innocence and decency, and easily making us sympathise with her predicament. She was all nerves and paleness, starting up from her seat with every fleeting emotion. It was a very clear picture of a woman driven to near madness by a scheming and unsympathetic husband. Her moment of revenge was also very good, as she reprised her madness for her husband’s benefit (or rather, to his detriment). I got the impression that she’ll be all right now she’s out of his clutches.

Andrew Woodall as her husband, Jack Manningham, delivered a matching performance. He was creepy without being over the top, although he was very menacing with Elizabeth, the housekeeper. I found it uncomfortable at times to see how he was manipulating his wife to keep her unbalanced, and drive her deeper into despair. It was good to see him get his comeuppance, though I would have liked to have seen his expression as she tormented him briefly at the end (he had his back to us).

Kenneth Cranham played ex-Detective Rough, and gave the part full gravitas and authority. It seems a tricky part, carrying most of the exposition, but a seasoned performer like Kenneth wasn’t about to let us down. With the dressing room in view, we get to see him avoiding the husband when he’s changing his collar and tie, and that certainly added to the tension. He also contributed most of the humour, including skipping nimbly round the room on occasion.

What also added to the tension was the excellent reactions of Rowena Cooper as Elizabeth, the housekeeper who does her best to help Bella. Knowing that Rough is hiding in the dressing room, she waits for the outcry from Mr Manningham, and her expression changes wonderfully as she realises they might just get away with it. This is the point where Mr Manningham behaves threateningly towards her, so she has to cover quite a range in one scene. She recovers well to swear undying loyalty to the husband, but we know where her heart lies.

Sally Tatum as Nancy, the sluttish maid who intimidates Bella, was also excellent. She played a first-class guttersnipe, if that’s not too much of a contradiction, and talk about wanton! When asked to kiss the Bible, she almost manages to slip it the tongue!

The attention to detail included the business of tea-pouring, cigar lighting, and, of course, lighting the gas lamps. Nobody rushed these things, and the pace felt right for the times. In particular, Bella takes her time to pour the tea so delicately, and all these points helped to create a real sense of time and place. The claustrophobia was also evident, and when Rough is talking about the murder of Alice Barlow, I felt there was ghost story hovering in the wings. Despite the feeling of menace, however, there were also a few good laughs, including a topical one when Rough mentioned that the weather “merits a world of comment at the moment” (we’ve been having a lot of rain and flooding recently).

All these factors combined to make for a very enjoyable afternoon, and the best production I’ve seen of this play. The audience obviously agreed, and when they took their bows, we booed Mr Manningham, and cheered Rough and Bella. Great fun.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Babes In Arms – June 2007

8/10

By: Rodgers and Hart, book by George Oppenheimer

Adapted and directed by: Martin Connor

Venue: Chichester Festival Theatre

Date: Wednesday 13th June 2007

This was sooo much better than last year’s musical. It may be an earlier offering than Carousel, but the wit of the writing and the coherence of the plot were far better. I do hope this gets a London transfer.

We went to the pre-show talk, given by a professor at a university. He gave us an overview of Rodgers and Hart’s career (some people have great jobs!), explaining how they influenced the development of musicals in the 20s and 30s. Until they got going, musicals were mainly cobbled together bits of entertainment – a hangover from Vaudeville. Initially, they wrote using this form themselves, then grew into the idea of tying the songs together with a more substantial plot. Babes In Arms is itself a reference to their early days at college (Hart was several years older than Rodgers, but stayed on to work on the student shows).

They also worked in Hollywood, and often their stage shows were radically changed for the big screen – for Babes In Arms, all but two of the original songs were removed. The version we were seeing tonight had been created from the two stage versions that they produced – the original, and a later version which took out much of the political references and background.

The performance itself got off to a good start. The set was mainly wooden struts fanning out from the back of a barn – actually, the set could be either the inside or the outside of the barn, depending. There was a piano to our left, and various boxes, trunks, etc around the stage. The band played a lively overture, and then we were straight into the action. The plot? Oh well, that was just about some teenagers who’re working for a theatre manager during the Depression, and who want to do their own show. The Manager has brought in a star, a precocious child with a mother of steel (Lorna Luft), to act in a new play called The Deep North…. oh, for goodness sake, you know the story!

The newly grown child star is actually a fine kid, who’s as keen as the rest of them to do something new. I loved the way she did the giggly child with curly blond hair to perfection, as well as the more sensible teenager with talent. In fact, all the performances were superb, full of life and energy, and the dancing was just great. I especially liked the tap dancers, and Light on our Feet was far and away the best thing in a very good show.

I enjoyed the both versions of the scene from The Deep North; the original, to show us just how bad it was, and the revised version, ambushed by the kids. I recognised most of the songs, and came out wanting a cast recording to sing our way home to. Well done.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Cymbeline – June 2007

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Declan Donnellan

Company: Cheek by Jowl

Venue: Barbican Theatre

Date: Saturday 2nd June 2007

We seem to get lucky with Cymbeline productions – of the six we’ve seen, half have been excellent. This was one of them.

After Kneehigh’s version, it was nice to get back to a more “normal” edition of the play, although the staging certainly wasn’t traditional, unless you count it as traditional Cheek by Jowl, that is. The Barbican had been transformed, yet again, so that the chairs (temporary seating) were raked back in a slight curve from the stage area, which was a large, open expanse, with only two massive pillars, reminiscent of the Globe’s pillars, to either side of centre. Otherwise, all was black, bare and not immediately appealing. For this production, we also had two bars with piles of cloth in front of them – they rose up to be swagged curtains – a couple of chairs, and a table with glasses and a bottle. Once the curtains rose up, we could see a chaise longue by one pillar and a big trunk by the other.

I’d decided to check out the Barbican’s induction loop facilities today, and I was relieved to find they were using a little box with an antenna and headphones. When we go again, I can hopefully use my own headphones, as their ones were still uncomfortable after a while. Anyway, I managed to work it OK, left it switched off till the play began (I don’t need to hear crowd mutterings in detail), and then, as the lights went down I switched it on, only to find it wasn’t working! Oh dear. At the interval I discovered the antenna had come out, and screwed it back in, so the second half came across clearer than the first, but as we were sitting in Row B, this wasn’t really an issue.

So I missed the very opening of the play, as I was cursing (quietly) and fiddling with my knobs. When I started paying attention, the main cast were all posed behind the second curtain, as in a family photo, and two of the men were discussing the situation. What with stolen sons, exiled husbands and second marriages, this play reminds me that people often think that if Shakespeare was alive today he’d be writing for the soaps. Rubbish, that doesn’t pay nearly enough, he’d be a script-doctor in Hollywood! But I digress.

After the introductions, we’re straight into the action (there’s a lot to get through in this play), and Posthumus and Imogen are saying their farewells, supposedly assisted by the new Queen (hiss, boo). It’s clear Imogen doesn’t like her, but the main focus is her love for Posthumus, and the sorrow of their parting. The Queen does her double dealing pretty swiftly (start as you mean to go on), and soon brings the King along to discover the couple. He flies into a rage, and sends Posthumus packing.

The story from here seems pretty standard, although the book given to Posthumus by his parents still wasn’t included. The main interest is in the staging. When Cloten comes on, I didn’t realise at first that it was the same actor playing both Posthumus and this part. [Olivier Award for Best Newcomer 2008] He looked so different, moved so differently, and all through the play, it was absolutely clear which character he was playing. He got across Cloten’s braggadocio and cowardice very well, and also Posthumus’ integrity and studiousness (Posthumus wears glasses, always buttons his jacket, etc.). Cloten had a couple of yes men with him who were happy to flatter him, without showing any signs of actually respecting him.

The emptiness of the stage allowed for quick scene changes. As with the Russian Twelfth Night, the final line or exit from one scene was held as the next scene’s characters came on stage, paused, and then the scenes followed each other seamlessly – finish one, straight into the next. Also, when someone is giving an aside, the others freeze, helping to clarify what’s going on.

The Italian section was fine, and the setting up of the bet worked very well. Posthumus is reasonably intelligent, but he lets himself down badly here. Mind you, we know Imogen’s love is bomb-proof, so he’s not really so daft. Iachimo gets off on the wrong foot with Imogen, and this time she never really trusts him again. However, she’s too innocent to see any problem in keeping his trunk for him, so the trap is set.

The scene where Iachimo convinces Posthumus of Imogen’s unfaithfulness makes it clear that Posthumus isn’t too readily convinced. Unfortunately there’s a mole involved, and finally he succumbs. Off the Italians go to Britain, to sort out the non-payment of tribute.

Imogen’s receipt of Posthumus’ letter was fully as excited as the Kneehigh version. She showed a huge range of emotions in this performance, always with intelligence. The Welsh scenes are well edited (I don’t remember hearing the lads’ Welsh names at all), and the cave is basically a space in the middle of the stage, with some boxes and a record player beside the fire. I like that kind of staging – I’m perfectly capable of using my imagination to fill in the details, and I enjoy productions that encourage me to do that.

Of course, with Cloten and Posthumus being virtual twins, Imogen’s misidentification of Cloten’s body makes a lot of sense. The dream in which Posthumus’ parents speak to him is set as a family picnic, and the God is a disembodied voice. The final scene, with Cymbeline victorious, and the guards apparently ready to shoot all the prisoners out of hand, was considerably more tense than I’ve seen before. The prisoners all have sacks over their heads, so no chance of anyone being recognised. Not that they’re recognised immediately when the sacks come off, mind you, but at least the coverings make the delays more plausible.

None of the above really gets across the sheer energy of this production, nor the amount of detail in each performance. There was a lot of movement, with characters swirling round the stage, or occasionally holding still, or creeping about, like Iachimo. The physical aspects were very important, and added to the energy and tension. I know the story, but still I wanted to find out how it would work out this time. Roll on the next Cheek By Jowl!

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Landscape With Weapon – May 2007

8/10

By: Joe Penhall

Directed by: Roger Michell

Venue: Cottesloe Theatre

Date: Thursday 24th May 2007

This was four-hander, exploring some of the issues around the technology of warfare and arms dealing in general. It was great fun, also quite moving, and although nothing particularly surprised me, it was still good to see someone writing this stuff at this time.

The Cottesloe had been set up with a central strip of stage, entrances either end, and simple furniture. To our left, there was a kitchen, and to our right was the entrance to the flat. Tom Hollander, dressed (I use the word loosely) in relaxed mode, plays Ned, who has designed an advanced guidance system for military drones. His brother Dan, played by Julian Rhind-Tutt, is a dentist, venturing into Botox, with a militant anti-war wife. Dan is fond of saying “yeah, no, yeah…” a lot, which is something I find myself doing; now I know how it sounds, I’ll have to stop doing it! It was very funny, though, as was most of their chat. In fact, the play changes mood gradually from the beginning, taking on a greater degree of menace towards the end, when Jason Watkins, as Brooks, the man from security, gets involved.

Ned wants to avoid his design being used in a bad way. He doesn’t mind people being killed as such (it’s fewer people than would be killed the conventional way), but he gets worried after talking with Dan that his application might actually be used to kill people who didn’t deserve it – innocent civilians, for example. In fact, the only surprise in the whole play was that anyone could be that intelligent nowadays and not have a clearer idea of what might be done with such an advanced weapon. Still, we allow our nerds and geeks some leeway in social matters, including how the world works, so it didn’t get in my way.

Pippa Haywood plays Angela Ross, the Commercial Director of the firm which Ned works for, and which wants to get a deal signed with the British government to manufacture the product. There’s a bit of commercial stuff about how the UK government wants 51% of the intellectual copyright, with the intention of selling on the weapon to other countries. Ned’s concern is how that may lead to the weapon being sold to countries that would use it in the wrong way, and he holds out for a controlling share of the IP rights. The Commercial Director does her best to persuade him to sign up to the existing deal, but it’s no go.

The scene shifts to the factory after the interval, and the set is changed quite simply. The carpet runner is removed, revealing aircraft shapes on the floor, the sides are lit differently to show up the glass bricks, and shadows of fighter planes are thrown onto these walls. It reminded me of the museum at Coventry, I think. As Ned is still refusing to play ball, the security man is called in, and Jason gives us a lovely turn as the cheerful chappy who’s all friendly to begin with, but who turns on the pressure to make sure Ned changes his mind.

Next we see Brooks applying the pressure to Dan, as Ned has scarpered, having ballsed up his coding to make the weapon useless. Dan isn’t made of particularly stern stuff, and after a short while “volunteers” to give Brooks all the information he could possibly want. The final scene is another duologue between Dan and Ned, where we find out what happened to Ned after he’s picked up by Brooks.

There was a lot of fun in the language and the performances, all of which were excellent. The play struck me as being more about the people and their relationship within the arms industry, plus Dan’s relationship with Ned. It is a bit scary to consider some of the possibilities for the way weapons are changing now, but the reality as experienced by our troops in Iraq shows that superior firepower only gets you so far. Peace cannot be so easily imposed on people who don’t want it, and increased technological superiority isn’t the final answer.

Must just mention the entertaining fight over the curry take away. I’m often distracted when there’s real food on stage, and this was no exception, but I still enjoyed the scrap between the two men, ending up with them lying, exhausted, across the table. Great fun.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Kiss Of The Spider Woman – May 2007

8/10

By: Manuel Puig, translated by Allan Baker

Directed by: Charlotte Westenra

Venue: Donmar Warehouse

Date: Thursday 17th May 2007

As this play got underway, I felt a sense of misgiving. I wasn’t sure I’d find two men talking together in a prison for two hours either interesting or enjoyable. (I hadn’t seen the film, and knew practically nothing about it.) I changed my opinion pretty soon, though, as the characters began to develop and the relationship emerged.

Will Keen as Molina starts things off. He’s talking about the storyline of a film he’s seen, about a panther woman. He’s a bit camp, and the softness of his voice meant I missed a lot of this bit. Once Rupert Evans, as Valentin, gets more involved, though, I found I could follow it a lot more.

As the days pass (Molina takes the pages off a calendar, so we can see when each scene happens) we get to know them better. Molina considers himself a woman – at least he aspires to be one. Slightly different from being a homosexual, as he doesn’t want to be a man having sex with another man. We’re not told exactly what he’s in jail for (or I didn’t hear it, possibly), but I assume it’s because he’s gay. His mother, whom he worships, is ill, and that appears to be his main worry during his time in prison. He’s always being kind to Valentin, and getting precious little back. Valentin is a young idealistic political activist. In Argentina. This means he’s determined to suffer for the cause, and continues to pump himself full of Marxist theory during his spare time. His disgust at the exploitation of others doesn’t include his own exploitation of Molina, although he does try to refuse his help as often as he can – it’s one of the main sources of tension between the two men.

At the end of the first half we get confirmation that Molina is being asked to spy on Valentin by the prison officials, and it’s also clear that he’s becoming more and more reluctant to rat on his cellmate. He keeps telling Valentin not to tell him things – names, etc. – in case he gets interrogated. Valentin is a bit naive, and doesn’t seem to grasp the danger. He’s finding he’d rather be with a woman who left the organisation, instead of the woman in the organisation who’s nominally his girlfriend. She’s off shagging someone else now he’s in prison, as dedication to the cause precludes personal attachments.

The two men grow closer, and eventually, they have sex. Molina’s time is nearly up. As he hasn’t got any information from Valentin, the prison officials have decided to release him, and then follow him to see who he contacts on Valentin’s behalf. At the end, Molina asks Valentin for the information that Valentin’s being anxious to give him, and the two men embrace. That’s the end of the play, and we’re left in delicious ambiguity as to what Molina’s going to do with the information. He’s in love with Valentin, but will he betray him deliberately, or just accidentally, by being followed?

I loved both performances. Will Keen was excellent as a man-woman, and Rupert Evans got across the self-righteousness of the idealist very well. I could see nothing but problems for both men, given the system they’re living under, and it’s a great example of how to make a protest and show the bigger picture by focusing on the personal and the individual. I’m really glad I saw this.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Rose Tattoo – May 2007

8/10

By: Tennessee Williams

Directed by: Steven Pimlott and Nicholas Hytner

Venue: Olivier Theatre

Date: Tuesday 15th May 2007

Steve and I had seen this play many years ago, with a good cast, and a good director, but just hadn’t got it at all. Neither of us could remember much about it, apart from this sense of bewilderment. We’re both Williams fans though, so we wanted to give it another try. And we’re very glad we did.

As this was in the Olivier, the set design was basically the small house that Serafina lives in (minus a few of the rooms) on the revolve, so scene changes could be pretty brisk. The entire set was based on roses – a pattern of roses was etched onto the flooring underneath the house, and rose patterns appeared on many of the costumes (not just Serafina’s), and in much of the fabric. There was even a goat (no roses to be seen there) which was led round the front of the set a couple of times.

The fairly realistic setting certainly helped, but this production was much better than the one we’d seen before. I lost a fair bit of the dialogue at the start, as it took me a while to tune into the accents. The older generation are Italian immigrants, while the younger generation speak the southern way, except when speaking Italian. There was much more humour than I expected, although Tennessee isn’t the dourest writer by any means.

The story concerns an Italian woman, very prideful of her marriage to an Italian Baron, and even more prideful of his faithfulness, who eventually learns, years after her husband’s death during an intercepted drug delivery, that he hasn’t been faithful at all. She’s already spent those years mourning his death excessively, and this discovery threatens to tip her over the edge. Amazingly enough, this is the very day on which her daughter graduates from High School; she’s met a young man to whom she’s attracted, and this causes a bout of over-protectiveness from her mother. Serafina also meets a replacement man, another truck driver, who arranges to have a rose tattoo put on his chest to help him woo the lady. Everything seems to work out OK, though it’s a bumpy ride.

Having read the notes in the program, this was intended to be a more optimistic play than his usual, and it certainly comes across that way. Instead of a picture of domestic entanglements which are driving everyone crazy (or crazier), we get a greater sense of progression with this one, partly because of the long time gap between the husband’s death and the rest of the action, but also because the relationships are more open. The outside world is more involved through the female “chorus” of her Italian neighbours and their children, plus a few others, including the priest.

I was clear about who these people were this time, and the difficulties in the relationship between mother and daughter were both moving and entertaining. I could see how Serafina is driven by her passion, and I just enjoyed watching the events unfold. Nice one.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me