Category Archives: 8/10

Macbeth – February 2007

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Grzegorz Bral

Company: Teatr Piesn Kozla (Song of the Goat Theatre)

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Friday 23rd February 2007

This is a work in progress, as described in the brochure, so we had no idea what to expect. I felt certain that we would use the term “song of the goat” long after this performance, but I didn’t know what we would be referring to. It was so different, and so varied, that I may not be able to remember all of it, or the correct order, but here goes. Bear in mind this performance was about one hour, thirty-five minutes long – I doubt I’ll get these notes written that fast.

The Swan stage was filled with chairs. Most stood in a ring round the three inner seats. The outer ring faced in, the inner three faced out. [22/1/08 – I’ve only just realised the three inner seats were probably for the witches.] They were all straight, high-backed wooden chairs. With the lights low, the actors filed on from all four corners to take their seats. As they sat there, silently, the lights gradually grew stronger, shafting down from high oblique angles. I wasn’t sure at first if I was really hearing a faint droning sound, but as it became stronger, I realised the actors were toning, or humming, to create a background drone. Very pleasant. Then I caught a few over notes, and soon we had a full-blown vocal orchestra – polyphony, as the director later told us. There was a song, presumably in some middle European language (although this company is Polish, there were references to Russian songs, and other musical traditions in the director’s comments, so not knowing the languages, I don’t know which they were singing in. Possibly Polish, possibly not). Over this, one of the actors spoke some of the lines of the bloody man (honest, guv, that’s what it says in the text), and the rhythms of his speech blended with the singing to add greater musical texture than I’ve experienced before, even for Shakespeare. I was very aware of the unfolding story – how a mighty force was attacking, and Macbeth rose to the challenge.

By the way, we didn’t need surtitles, as all the text was spoken in English, but there was a screen up on the top balcony, showing short descriptions of what the actors were working on, what the section was about. This first section was entitled “Crown”.

The singing/chanting/droning changed from time to time, but that’s probably the least easy part to remember in detail. The next piece of text was also the first time an actor moved from their chair – Lady Macbeth reading her husband’s letter and telling us her point of view. This was interestingly staged. Lady Macbeth moved outside the circle of chairs and prowled round them, giving us an insight into her ruthlessness and ambition. As she came round to the front, she was saying some lines which appear to address her husband directly, although we know he isn’t there, but in fact she was able to speak them to the actor playing Macbeth. She completed the speech and the circle at the same time. I was very aware of her isolation, and that she was actually speaking only to herself, which doesn’t always happen with soliloquies.

Next up (literally) was Macbeth, and “If t’were done when ‘tis done…..”. (Chanting still on the go.) This was very interesting. Again, the rhythm of his speech intertwined with the music, and heightened the sense of his emotional journey. And, unlike Lady Macbeth, who returned to the same place, he ends up sitting in the only other empty chair, a sign of his movement as a character. I also found that the empty chair at the start reminded me of Banquo’s seat at the feast.

Finally, we had a song, and then that section was finished. The actors stood up, and removed the chairs, while the director came on to talk with us. First, he apologised to anyone who had come tonight to see the play Macbeth, as that wasn’t what they would be doing. His troupe’s work is based on a tradition of performance in Poland going back to the 1920s or 30s. Never mind 6 weeks rehearsals, this lot get 2 or 3 years! Basically, it’s ready when it’s ready. There are three strands which they explore and weave together to produce the final piece – music, text, movement. What they were doing tonight was to show us some of the work so far, and explore some facets of the play through sound, movement and text, to get a better understanding of what’s going on, and what works and what doesn’t.

The next section he introduced as “Cauldron”, where they explored the magical, witchcraft aspects. Seven witches sat down, with a bundle of poles, also used later. The chanting and keening portrayed grief at first then changed and became stronger. Not sure what that was about, but I did get a sense of the witches being desperately unhappy women – no families of their own, perhaps?

There’s no particular order now. We saw men waving poles around. They had long strips of cloth ranging from red through pink to white attached to them, so they made a beautiful, swirling pattern. Their movements reminded me of Tai Chi.

Family – another section. The actors stood in a family pose with men standing, women sitting and children at the feet. They sang a more cheerful song, while Macbeth’s fear of Banquo’s future success gnaws at his vitals – God, that man can suffer.

Lady Macbeth was being chased by a witch/demon, who grabs at her from behind. Perhaps they repeated this a few too many times? This leads into the “Come, evil spirits..” routine, and gave me the idea that Lady Macbeth is cracking up from the moment she gets that letter. Letters in Shakespeare are usually bad news – he’s a terrible advert for the Post Office – and this one’s a corker! Her madness is evident in the way she conjures the spirits, and there’s also a sense of her later, obvious madness and sleepwalking as being her own creation through the spell she casts.

Malcolm meeting Macduff, with news from Ross, is played out round and on a set of floor mats, and lines are spoken as the actors are tumbling, turning cartwheels, etc. Their breath control must be amazing. I was still very moved by the news of Lady Macduff and all the little Macduffs’ fate.

They used dissonance – half tones – to show Macbeth’s increasing madness. Well, yes, you would go mad if you had sounds like that crashing through your brain all the time. Eeugh! But brilliantly performed – that kind of dissonance is hard to sing. Steve reckons he knows why Macbeth goes mad – it’s because he’s got migraines.

Macbeth and the dagger scene – three actors surround him, and seem to entrap him, so he can’t get out – guardian devils? They move backwards and forwards in a visceral dance, the devils constantly blocking his escape. Once he’s resolved and steadies, they steady, and then leave, knowing he’s set on his path.

Macbeth and Lady Macbeth inviting Banquo to dinner and checking what he’s doing in the meantime, was followed by Man & Horse – Banquo being killed while out riding. The movements here were also balletic and effective.

Banquet scene – I thought it would be Banquo’s feast, but no, it was the original one with Duncan.

At times, they used only music to create an image. At one point, Lady Macbeth was tying herself up in ribbons attached to a pole.

Everyone was sitting on tables and chairs at the end, then reformed the circle for another bit of “Crown”, standing this time. There was more fighting with poles – Hells Gate – and they end up throwing the poles to Macbeth, who was perched on top of the stack of furniture.

While this description is quite jumbled, the sections made more sense at the time. I was very impressed with the actors’ dedication. Working on this stuff for so long may seen self-indulgent, but it takes a lot of commitment, and the results were immensely powerful, if not always pleasant (e.g. dissonance). I would be keen to see some of their other work, or indeed this production, once it comes to fruition.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Henry VI part 2 – February 2007

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Michael Boyd

Venue: Courtyard Theatre

Date: Saturday 10th February 2007

At the end of the previous play, we had seen Margaret’s picture presented to the King – basically, the actress herself standing in a large picture frame, wheeled on to the stage. This framing device was used several times throughout the series, sometimes lowered down from above. As this play starts, Margaret arrives in person, to be presented to the King by Suffolk, who has married her in France as the King’s stand-in (and carried through with the nuptials?). All is well, until Gloucester, as regent, reads the marriage contract, and discovers that the bulk of the English holdings in France are to be given to Margaret’s father, while she herself comes without a dowry. As Henry takes his new bride off to be crowned, the leading nobles thoughtfully remain on stage so we can eavesdrop on their discussion.

They’re not happy bunnies, not one of them. The only slightly positive prospect is that they might unite against this foolishness of the king, but no, they still bicker and fight amongst themselves, with the naughty Cardinal seeing this as an opportunity to oust Gloucester, and the regent being concerned about England’s wealth and prosperity. Others take sides, and Richard, Duke of York is already planning to take the crown he believes he deserves. I see trouble ahead. The scene was well played, and got across the deepening divides in English government circles. (And you think Tony vs. Gordon is bad!)

Next we see the Duchess of Gloucester, a prototype for Lady Macbeth, trying to seduce her husband into bidding for the crown himself. It’s all glossed over as being a dream, but we can see she’s an ambitious lady, and when her husband leaves to join the king, she arranges a session with occult practitioners, to get more information on her glorious destiny (Maureen Beattie can play an obsessed woman to perfection). Unfortunately, the chap who’s organising all this is in the pay of the Cardinal and Suffolk – more plotting and machinations. He’s also played by Jonathan Slinger, as he’s not yet got going as Richard, so we know he’s up to no good as soon as we see him. He’s pumping up her fantasies, as if they needed it, helping her rise to a greater fall.

The political divisions are reinforced with the following scene, where several petitioners are looking for the Lord Protector to give him their petitions, and are intercepted by the Queen and her “close” supporter, Suffolk. Their petitions to the Lord Protector wind the Queen up terribly – she wants to be the wife of a powerful king, and resents the airs and graces which the Duchess of Gloucester has been putting on. The battleground is set, and now we’re going to watch several hours of it all unfolding.

Bickering and dissension flare up even more in the English court, and Henry, poor benighted soul, manages to make the worst possible decision, by selecting two sworn enemies to act as regent in France. Gloucester shows his wit and wisdom during a hunting scene, by shrewdly making a chap who’s pretending to have been cured of blindness expose himself as a liar.  Unfortunately, the trap has already closed around his wife, and her disgrace leads to his inevitable dismissal as Lord Protector.  The wolves gather.

Richard, Duke of York (Richard III’s daddy), explains his claim to the throne to Salisbury and Warwick, using stones to demonstrate the bloodlines from Edward III. His reasoning is clear, if a trifle long-winded and both men agree to support him in his claim. Meanwhile Gloucester, now unprotected, is brought down by the scheming court, and France is lost to the English crown. What more could possibly go wrong?

Well, Ireland rebels, and York is sent off to deal with it. Gloucester is bumped off, and Warwick and Suffolk square up to each other, Warwick accusing Suffolk of the deed (accurately), and Suffolk brazening it out. However, the commons make a temporary impact on the play, by demanding that Suffolk be executed or banished immediately for Gloucester’s death, so the King banishes him. His final scene with Margaret is almost touching, given that they’re a pair of villains. Oh, and the Cardinal also dies, and Suffolk is killed by some sailors when trying to go abroad, as revenge for Duke Humphrey’s death. So with several of the troublemakers now dead, will things be more peaceful? Not a chance.

To keep the country unsettled, the Duke of York has arranged for Jack Cade to lead a revolt of the common people, claiming that he’s the rightful heir. He’s soon defeated, but not before giving us a potentially entertaining look at what the country would be like if the less well educated were running the show. They even get someone up from the audience, and take them off to be executed! (But they came back again, whew.) On the Duke’s return, demanding that Somerset be thrown into the tower as a traitor, the real quarrel breaks the surface, and York announces his claim to the throne. Civil war has begun. The play ends with the first battle, a Yorkist win, but more is to come.

One aspect of the staging that I particularly liked was the recycling of the dead bodies, and there are plenty of those in this play. Gloucester, the Cardinal, Suffolk and the rest, all reappear during the play, especially during the Jack Cade sequence, as ghostly versions of themselves, and as participants in the action. It’s noticeable that the Duke of Gloucester and the Cardinal have got over their spat since their deaths – it’s nice to see them working together for a change. It was also interesting to see how this gave a very strong sense of the killings all being linked, and of the death toll mounting up and building even higher. And in many ways it reduced the confusion there can sometimes be in these plays, as actors are reused in different parts. Instead of having to stop and think who’s playing what part, I found I could just relax and go with it. Plus you have to get those dead bodies off stage somehow, so why not under their own steam? They’re also helped by a kind of Death figure, played by Antony Bunsee, who opens the doors at the back for them as they leave for the other world.

Another theme that worked its way through the whole set was bones and stones. York uses stones to show his claim, and bones appear several times during the plays – the conjuring scene, a scene with Joan of Arc, etc. I wasn’t sure what this meant, but with such a long time span to cover, I feel it helps to bind the plays together. Also, there’s a lot of prophecy in these plays, which can seem a bit redundant in some ways. After all, Shakespeare’s audience knew their recent-ish history pretty well, I assume, so they’re not going to be surprised at the twists and turns. I suspect this is a way of reassuring the audience, of letting us know that we’re in safe hands – a kind of “Next week, on Henry VI” trail of forthcoming attractions. Perhaps he’s also being a bit tongue-in-cheek, knowing full well his audience knows the story, and also knowing that several characters take the prophecies the wrong way.

While I found the political machinations much clearer this time, I still found the sheer number of characters confusing. Many are scarcely introduced to us before they’re deeply involved in the action, so that it’s hard to keep track of who’s who, apart from the major players. Perhaps Will was getting a bit carried away with having a large, talented ensemble to work with? We may never know.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

King Of Hearts – February 2007

8/10

By: Alistair Beaton

Directed by: Ramin Gray asnd Max Stafford Clark

Company: Out Of Joint

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Thursday 8th February 2007

This was the world premiere of this play, as it turned out, and we were also treated to a post-show discussion, as directors and writer were present to see how it went. Personally, I thought it was very good, needing a bit of work here and there, but very entertaining, and speaking out on some issues that are being skirted round at the moment, but which affect everyone of us.

General context – the King is dying, his heirs are his two sons. The elder (Richard) is in love with a Muslim girl (Nasreen), and plans to marry her while still becoming King. The younger (Arthur) is a layabout, keen on a dissolute lifestyle of drink, drugs, etc., and not at all keen on becoming King if his brother abdicates. The Prime Minister (Richard) is plotting the early demise of the King (he’s on life support, so it’s just switching off the machine), until he discovers Richard’s plans. Then he switches to trying to keep the King alive as long as possible to stop Richard marrying a Muslim. Constitutional crisis. The Leader of the Opposition (Stephen) is present also – this is “above party politics” – and all sorts of shenanigans unfold. Nasreen seems to be keen on power – I hoped she’d reject Richard if he didn’t become King, but no, love overcame all. There’s also a rambling Archbishop of Canterbury (Marcus), plodding head of security (Holbrook), King’s private secretary (Sir Terence Pitch), ballsy female spin doctor (Annie), and gay assistant (Toby), giving us a good mix of views on a tricky subject, and lots of options for humour. I especially liked Toby blackmailing the Leader of the Opposition with a video clip showing him enjoying a sexual act, and Annie slapping Arthur for using the word “cunt”. Overall, the language wasn’t as strong as The Thick Of It, but it was fairly meaty at times, all well within context.

Post-show – didn’t hear all of it. The intro, where we get to see that Richard is involved with a Muslim lady, will be dropped tomorrow, to see how it goes – is it better for the audience to know what’s coming, or to be surprised? We were a very warm audience apparently, and they learned a lot from our responses. Jade Goody joke was allowed tonight, would only stay in if it was well received – expect it to stay. Comments on the amount of swearing – audience seemed split on whether it was too much or about right.

Definitely one to see again, partly to find out how it’s bedded down, and partly to re-enjoy.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

If I Were You – January 2007

8/10

By: Alan Ayckbourn

Directed by: Alan Ayckbourn

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Tuesday 30th January 2007

This was good fun – another Alan Ayckbourn special. Like a lot of his recent work, he sets up the situation in detail in the first half, and you have to wait for the second half to see the full comic potential emerge. In this case, it’s a family situation, with two abused wives and two macho husbands, unthinking and uncaring, subjecting their wives to serious unpleasantness, and even violence. There’s also a son who’s still at school, to add to the mix.

Mal and his wife, Jill, are a married couple with two kids – Chrissie, who’s married to Dean, and has a young baby, Liam, and Sam, still at school and wanting to act, which his father disapproves of. Thinks acting is for poofs – you know the sort. We see Mal and Chrissie go through their day – Mal as the bullying, aggressive manager of a furnishing store, and Jill the depressed housewife, hardly getting dressed before her son gets home from school. Chrissie comes round to go shopping with her Mum, and ends up spending the day with her, doing her best to give her support. During this time, we discover that she’s being beaten fairly regularly by Dean, the apple of Mal’s eye – a “real” man as far as he’s concerned. Dean works with Mal, and joins him in the boozing and bullying. Sam, on the other hand, seems more sensitive, and doesn’t enjoy regular schooling. We’re aware that he’s probably got a crush on his English teacher, which is why he’s so keen to do the acting, but when we see his Francis Flute later on, he’s not bad. More on that later.

Mal has refused to sign a form that Sam needs in order to be involved in a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, being done as part of an open-air theatre program, not part of the school’s drama work. His mother has promised to sign another copy of the form, and to keep it from Mal, and to help Sam with his lines the next day. Mal has had to deal with a sick secretary, Sandra (he’s threatened to fire her if she’s not in work the next day), a stroppy client whom he’s told to “fuck off”, and his lover, Trixie, whom he sees at lunchtime, with Dean covering for him. A visit from Head Office is also pending, so he’s feeling pretty stressed. Jill is obviously depressed, and could do with getting out of the house by getting a job, while Chrissie needs to find some way to hold her own against Dean. Not Happy Families, this.

At the end of the day, with Mal leaving the remains of his curry stinking up the living room, and refusing to engage in conversation with his wife, we’ve seen the worst that men have to offer their partners, and some of the depths that women plumb trying to live with them. With no explanation given, Ayckbourn is confident enough in his writing skills to have Mal and Jill change personalities during the night, so that Jill wakes up in Mal’s body and he in hers. This we see just before the interval, and Jill/Mal’s scream as she sees herself in the bathroom mirror was a joy to hear. We then spend the second half getting to see how these characters deal with their role reversals, and how the other characters handle the changes. Brilliant fun.

Sam is the first to notice the differences – his Mum is now clearing her chestiness in the morning rather loudly instead of his Dad. Mum no longer knows where anything is in the kitchen, while Dad has put on a pinny and Marigolds, and is cleaning the place up. At least Sam eats breakfast for once – his Mum’s never barked the order to eat at him so fiercely before!

While Mal/Jill is gracelessly coming to terms with being domesticated for the day, Jill/Mal is bonding with everything in sight. She empathises with Sandra, whose “feminine problems” are keeping her off work for another day, and advises her to see a doctor as soon as possible to get it sorted out. She organizes a whip-round at the store for Charlie’s wife, who’s just had a baby, so they can send some flowers. And she deals with the stroppy customer, back for a return bout, by agreeing with everything and promising nothing – apparently that’s the best way to deal with that type. Towards the end of the day, she also deals with Trixie, whom she has not visited during lunchtime, by telling her that Jill knows, and is terribly jealous. She makes out Jill is coming into the room with a knife and (screams)…..end of phone call. Trixie probably won’t be back.

Meantime, Mal/Jill has attempted to dress smartly – in a flowery tangerine top and leopard print trousers that go way beyond clashing. Makeup is likewise not too successful, but you have to give the poor man marks for effort. Sadly, he doesn’t spot that the vacuum is full to the brim, so to get it to work he takes it to pieces. Chrissie arrives at this point, and the vacuum gets put to one side so they can have a natter over a cup of coffee. Naturally, during this talk, Mal/Jill discovers that his blue-eyed boy, Dean, has been beating his daughter, the only woman he seems to prize. He also finds out later, from Sam, that lots of things have been kept from Dad, as otherwise they wouldn’t be able to do anything, to which Mal/Jill can only agree. He does at least carry out Jill’s promise the previous day to help Sam with his lines, and during this finds out about the crush on the English teacher. He’s much relieved.

Sam gives a demonstration of Thisbe’s final speech – a very moving one, depending on how it’s done. This time the emotions came across, and Mal/Jill and Chrissie are obviously engrossed. This is the time when Dean came in the previous day and checked the football results when the women were watching a TV show – totally inconsiderate. Today he comes in when Sam has finished Thisbe’s speech, and is so out of place, and so unpleasant, that Mal/Jill punches him, knocking him onto the couch. Hooray! Chrissie finally has her leverage over Dean, and she asks her family not to tell anyone Dean was knocked out by a woman, because if anyone’s going to tell his friends at the rugby club, it’ll be her.

Jill/Mal shocks Sam even more by offering to make him something to eat – like a lot of teenagers, he seems to be living off cans of fizzy drink – and as he leaves with his sandwich, he unwittingly expresses the reality of the situation by saying “Thanks, Mum”.

As they go to bed, Mal and Jill seem to be coming to terms with their situation, but as they go to sleep, with Jill/Mal counting sheep, they change back again, and now comes the biggest question of all. With all that these two characters have learned during the day, how have they changed? Will they stay changed? Their final coming together suggests that their relationship will be better than before, if not perfect, but then few of us can manage that.

The bulk of the comedy in this was clearly in the male/female conflicts and differences, and there were some tremendously funny bits throughout, mostly in the second half as the role reversal plot developed. I liked that Ayckbourn is tackling more serious subjects in his comedy, if that doesn’t sound too contradictory. Ayckbourn obviously respects women more than men – these women manage to do far more, and more effectively than the men, and it was lovely to see Jill/Mal gain in confidence when doing her husband’s job as well as a good deal of her own. I also found Sam an excellent character – well acted, and he gave us a vital perspective on the changes in both main characters, as well as a pivotal moment in the plot.

But the main acting credits must go to Terence Booth, stepping in to take over the part of Mal, and Liza Goddard as Jill. Both were excellent, especially in portraying the other’s character after the change. It was always clear to us who was who, and that made the whole thing work marvellously well.

The set was typical Ayckbourn – part of a kitchen, a bedroom, and a sitting room. Change the lighting, and voila! we’re in the furnishing showroom. Marvellous economy, and very effective.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Winter’s Tale – January 2007

8/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Dominic Cooke

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Wednesday 3rd January 2007

I enjoyed this performance much more than the previous time. We were sitting across from our first seats, and a gallery higher, which gave us a very different perspective. Having just had our own New Year celebration, I felt more in tune with the opening scene, and I was able to get into the swing, helping with the countdown, etc. Although I missed some of the scene, as it was played out right underneath us, I did catch up on the parts that Time had been blocking before, so overall I was more engaged from the start. I suspect it was partly due to our familiarity with the layout, partly because we were in a better position (and a complementary position to our earlier experience), and some credit also has to go to Robert Smallwood, who gave us Winter Scholars a superb lecture on the play, which he considers his favourite, if not indeed Shakespeare’s best. Based on his lachrymose experiences, I must admit to having a touch of the Smallwoods tonight, several times.

I was only aware of one difference in the staging from last time. As far as I could tell, the music that played over the opening scene was here restricted to just one part of the scene, which helped enormously. I could be remembering it wrongly, of course – it’s amazing what even a few short weeks can do to my memory. Other than that, the staging was as before, but this time I was aware of much more, and could see a lot that I’d missed first time round.

I was well aware how angry I felt at Leontes when he arraigned his wife when she’d hardly recovered from giving birth – the bastard. I wanted to hiss and boo him, but there wasn’t really a good opportunity (not without getting myself evicted, anyway). I could also feel a desire to throw things down onto the actors innocently performing below – a strong temptation which I fortunately resisted (see eviction point above). The promenade layout meant there were far more restrictions on the view from the upper gallery than normal, but although my perch was a little precarious at times as I leaned this way and that to catch as much as I could of the performances, I still found myself caught up in the play as I hadn’t been before.

Autolycus was just the same, and still failed to impress me. He seemed quite dull and uninteresting, without much detail to the performance. Nudity is all very well (in his case, VERY well!), but it’s not enough for this part. After the talks today, I was more aware of whether certain lines had been cut – it appears both bits our speakers thought would be dropped or severely edited were included pretty fully – the sheep shearing computation, and the reporting of the reconciliation scene, which was done very well. At first we have a lone reporter putting some copy onto his tape recorder, then someone official-looking comes out with a microphone to report more details, then another chap, even more important, adds the final touches. I thought it worked very well, especially in the light of today’s press conferences and spin doctoring waffle.

I still found the “shelf” that doubles as Mamillius’ bedroom and Leontes’ study (or has he just installed himself in his dead son’s bedroom to appease his grief?) ludicrously small – Leontes must have a pocket kingdom if that’s how big the rooms in his palace are. I did spot what Mamillius is playing with at bedtime, though – he’s tossing up a cuddly black bear, just like the one that’s going to eat Antigonus! I saw more of that bear this time, too, as it came on opposite us, and I noticed how quickly the promenaders cleared out of its way when it chased the poor old man. Shame! If they’d ganged up on it, they might have saved him. (Not that I was planning on rushing down there to lend a hand.)

I was more aware of the various decorations hanging from the ceiling this time, both the New Year’s celebration streamers and the sheep shearing flags. With several Winter Scholars in the audience, that was a bit of a distraction too, as I checked out their reactions occasionally. Having said that, the time flew – I’ve no idea when it finished, and I only glanced at my watch once, which is unusual, even in a good production.

I liked the way Time used music to convey the passage of sixteen years – his radio played “Catch a Falling Star” before his speech, and afterwards it was “California Dreaming”. The sheep shearing celebrants were clearly hippies, and Autolycus more of a drug pusher, but that fitted with the set up, as did the rather spaced out chap who tried to join in the group dance without a partner.

A friend commented on the statue facing away from most of the audience, which is a fair point, and I still think this layout doesn’t really suit the Swan – perhaps a purpose-built auditorium with careful consideration given to sightlines might work OK, but not this mish-mash. However, it was still enjoyable, and I was very pleasantly surprised at how much I felt it had improved over the first viewing.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Lightning Play – December 2006

Experience: 8/10

By Charlotte Jones

Directed by Anna Mackmin

Venue: Almeida Theatre

Date: Saturday 16th December 2006

I was hooked almost immediately by this play. It starts with Max (Matthew Marsh) entering a plush modern minimalist room with lots of remote controls in his hands. He puts them down, and then tries to find out which one will switch on his brand new 65” TV. Naturally, he can’t do it. The bloody thing refuses to work, despite his best efforts, and with much complaining and swearing on his part. It doesn’t sound like much written down, but for folk like us with five or six remote controls beside us on the sofa, it was hilarious.

The set was one of the biggest I’ve seen at the Almeida. It was one room, wide and spacious, with a few tables and a sideboard at the walls either side. A sofa and two recliner chairs faced each other across the middle of the room, a massive rug (false perspective) lay on the floor, and a huge TV screen hung on the back wall, with the necessary machines underneath. Behind the screen we could see a wood-effect recess, and on either side of the screen were the doors. Simple and very effective.

Max is a ghost writer, who produces “autobiographies” for D-list celebs. His wife, Harriet (Eleanor David), seems to spend her time shopping with his money and making their home a palace of beauty. His childhood friend Eddie (Lloyd Hutchinson) mooches about, apparently always at their house, helping Max research by watching videos and drinking beer with him.

Max has been induced to invite Imogen (Katherine Parkinson), an old school friend of their travelling daughter, round for drinks. She’s heavily pregnant, just about ready to drop, and her husband Marcus Cumberbatch (Orlando Seale) comes along too. Eddie brings along a new girlfriend, Jacklyn (Adie Allen), who picked him up that day during a ramble. She’s the nervous New Age sort. We also see, in flashback, Burak (Simon Kassianides), the man who sold Harriet the rug (after they had sex on it), and Tabby Morris (Christina Cole), the 20-something glamour model whose autobiography Max is hoping to write.

It’s Halloween as well, and there are lots of strange things going on. We keep hearing about Max and Harriet’s daughter, Anna, who’s inIsraelprotesting human rights abuses by standing in front of tanks and the like. It’s pretty obvious there’s some reason why she’s both avoiding her parents and fighting for others, and we find this out by the end of the play. It’s because of Anna that Imogen invited herself round – she’s had an email from her, and wanted to tell her parents about it. Imogen had been round at their place a lot during her schooldays, a bit like Eddie now, although neither Max nor Harriet really cared for her.

The other strange occurrence is the pictures that keep coming up on the massive screen – it’s not TV programs, it’s like a family video, showing a young girl, maybe 10 years old, running through a wood, and clambering through trees. She looks scared, mostly, and we naturally assume this is Anna when she was younger. The pictures and sounds affect Max terribly – in fact, he’s the only one seeing them. They crop up every time the doorbell rings – kids trick or treating. When everyone’s there, we find out what all the connections are, who rescued who from a suicide attempt, and what really happened in the forest so many years ago. It wasn’t so much a twist, as uncovering something hidden, not mentioned or referenced at all during the play, as far as I could tell. The play ends with Harriet going off to see Anna in Israel, and Max and Eddie settling down to watch videos and drink beer, while the set opens up to reveal the real significance of the wooden recess.

This was a really well-crafted play. The characters were believable and mostly irritating – you wouldn’t want to spend time with them. The humour was excellent. While complaining to Eddie about the recalcitrance of the incredibly expensive TV, Max comments “This thing should be on its knees, tugging at my zip.” The performances were all brilliant – we really get to know these people and what makes them tick. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and would happily see this again.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Pericles – December 2006

Experience: 8/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Dominic Cooke

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Thursday 14th December 2006

This was a very entertaining evening. I may have found it better than The Winter’s Tale because I was more used to the changes in the Swan, which has, after all, been my favouritest theatre in the world, but then again, this production used the space quite differently, and we were sitting across from our previous seats, and had a much better view of all the action. In fact we only really missed the wedding between Pericles and Thaisa. All the rest was either clearly visible, or, even better, right in front of us, on the sloping ramp.

The costumes were a mix of African traditional with natural geometric patterns and earthy colours, and modern. Cerimon was initially dressed like a hippy earth mother, and the suitors for Thaisa wore fetching outfits, all matched, of blue tops and tight white shorts. (Is it just me, or is it warm in here?) The starving folk in Tarsus were suffering a fashion breakdown, as all (except the king and queen, of course) were swathed in grubby cotton sacking. Overall, it was a wonderful combination of colours and styles which worked effectively to accentuate Pericles’ travels, the diversity of cultures he visits, and the dangers he faces – the opening sequence has guards toting automatic rifles forcing the peripatetic audience members into place to hear Pericles face Antiochus’ challenge.

That Antiochus is a right bastard. Not only does he seduce his daughter into an incestuous relationship, but he’s so determined to keep her, he’s willing to chop off the head of any young man who dares to sue for her hand. In theory, of course, the guy just has to decipher the riddle to gain her, but there’s no way Antiochus is going to let anyone live who figures out what he’s been up to with his daughter. So either way, they’re for the chop. I did like the way the man standing behind Pericles on the dais started sharpening his knife as soon as Pericles accepted the challenge.

Pericles’ trip home and thence to Tarsus went very smoothly. I liked the way Cleon, King of Tarsus, is worried at first that his country is being invaded. We could hear the sound of helicopters overhead, suggestive of both rescue and invasion. Despite the relief effort, at least one starving citizen didn’t make it.

Then Pericles is off again, and, wrecked at sea, is cast up on the shores of Pentapolis. I enjoyed this bit, when the sailors/fishermen find him, and then rescue his armour. The chap who found it was clearly none too happy that Pericles claimed it back, and in the end this staging didn’t make use of the shield, but I suppose that scene is showing Pericles’ luck and/or air of authority. It’s also when he finds out about the availability of Thaisa, the King’s daughter, and decides to become one of her suitors.

The competition among Thaisa’s suitors was the best I’ve seen. At first, the scene is set for Thaisa’s birthday celebration, and the suitors are shown, in the box, bringing her gifts (not in the text, this bit). There’s a couple of bags, one large, one small, a cuddly toy, and a box. When the flashiest one comes along, he seems to have nothing to give her, but at the last minute produces a conspicuous set of car keys – just showing off, if you ask me! Then Pericles arrives, the final suitor, with nothing more than a single rose. At this point, Thaisa doesn’t really pay him much attention – he’s more of a puzzle than anything else.

Next comes the competition, and instead of sword play, we’re treated to a modern pentathlon – shooting, fencing (alright, we got a bit of sword play), swimming, riding, and running. One contestant was dropped after each round. For the first event they lined up on one of the walkways, and shot across to the other. One of the contestants managed to fell a stray bird, feathers floating down to make the point, and Pericles had to borrow (or grab) the gun from the chap standing next to him, as he obviously didn’t have one of his own. Bird shooter was eliminated, and the rest went down to the ground level for the fencing. By the way, Nigel Cooke, dressed like a cook from what I could see, was running a book on the outcome – I know the RSC needs money for the redevelopment, but really! Anyway, with five competitors left, the first four paired up, and when one was beaten, Pericles stepped in to fight the winner. Needless to say, he gets through to the final, and also wins that. Our hero is doing well. Then it’s off to the box for the swimming. A blue sheet is held up, and wiggled about a bit, while the remaining suitors swim two lengths of the box. Another one out, and we’re down to three. On the walkway leading to the ramp, the three eliminatees are sitting with drums, and the three still in it come along in riding hats, and with whips, and sort of mount them (it’s not as bad as it sounds). Then they have a race, with pauses for the jumps, and the sound of the drumming for the hooves. A finishing post is trundled into view towards the end, so we know who’s won. Another one bites the dust, and then it’s just Pericles and the flash git in the final sprint, up the ramp just in front of us. Despite his chubby appearance, and being against a lean, tall, muscular sort of chap, Pericles actually manages to win this one as well – hooray! I was so caught up in the story-telling, that frankly, I didn’t mind this a bit – it was just good fun.

Following the events, there was some sulking as Simonides made a speech congratulating them all, and some clenched teeth were visible through the smiles. But it’s all still to play for, as the competition wasn’t to determine Thaisa’s husband, it was just a bit of fun, a way to pass the time. However, at the banquet later, Thaisa’s obviously very taken with the victorious stranger. She has an interesting relationship with her father, Simonides. They both clearly love each other, in a healthy way this time, but they will keep pretending the opposite of what they feel – in Simonides case, it’s often to test how his daughter really feels, and given the nature of their relationship, that’s quite understandable. In her case, it’s not so clear, unless she’s just picked up on Daddy’s way of doing things. Or perhaps she’s a bit shy of declaring her interest in Pericles outright. Anyway, she pretends indifference, and is secretly (if you can call it a secret when the whole audience knows) delighted when her father tells her to take a cup of wine to the champion of the games. Pericles is pretty taken with her, too, and they have a nice little dance sequence, with interesting suggestions of the two of them trying to blend their different cultures.

Simonides is also pretty keen on this match, because early the next morning, he sees off the other suitors, spinning a yarn about how his daughter wants a gap year before she marries. Off they go, some sobbing with disappointment, and leave the field clear for Pericles. Simonides has had a letter from his daughter expressing her feelings for the man, and he confronts Pericles with it, pretending to be angry. Pericles is thrown into confusion. The last time he was presented with a piece of paper was in Antioch, and he only just escaped with his life. He responds that he hasn’t done anything to encourage Thaisa, and she arrives to be confronted by her pseudo-angry father and …. well, it all ends happily, as Simonides can’t keep up the pretence for long, and before you know it, the happy couple are man and wife.

The audience participation included invitations to the wedding feast, which I thought was a nice touch – go to a play, join in the wedding breakfast. Gower, the narrator, informs us of time passing, and of Pericles receiving news that he has to return to Tyre or risk losing his crown, so without more ado they head off to sea, Thaisa much pregnant. A storm comes up, and here the people at the table start to sway and throw themselves about as if on a storm-tossed ship – a nice segue. Thaisa is helped to the box, and behind a curtain she produces her baby daughter, and then breathes her last …. or does she? Pericles is distraught, and it isn’t helped by the superstitious sailors wanting to chuck Thaisa’s body overboard asap. Fortunately, they have a fully water-proofed coffin standing by (they were obviously boy scouts or whatever the ancient equivalent was – always prepared), and so off she floats, with a covering letter explaining the situation and asking for whoever finds the coffin to put her in a proper grave. Pericles then instructs the sailors to head for Tarsus, as it’s apparently nearer, and he plans to leave his daughter there for Cleon and his wife to bring her up. Given the circumstances of her birth, he names her Marina. Cleon and his wife are only too happy to help, having a daughter of a similar age themselves (regular viewers of Will’s work will be suspicious on hearing this news).

One point to mention on the staging. At the time Thaisa is in the box giving birth, the same actress who played Antiochus’ daughter is spotlit, standing on the ramp to our right, watching the proceedings. I wasn’t sure what this meant at first – was this Antiochus’ daughter haunting Pericles, or taking on the shape of his daughter, or what? Actually, it was a neat bit of doubling, which would have been even more effective if the risk of incest in the later scenes had been brought out. As it was, it made me pay attention, and introduced Marina to us before the break, as she’s all growed up afterwards.

The two scenes with Cerimon are run together here. Thaisa’s waking is well done, as she gives a huge start and cries out. Her last memory is of the childbirth, and she’s understandably confused as to how she got where she is. The one thing I feel needs more explanation in the text is why Thaisa assumes so quickly that she won’t see her husband again. But then we wouldn’t get that lovely last scene, of course, so never mind. Thaisa decides to be a nun at the temple of Diana, for she has landed in Ephesus.

Now we’re following Marina’s story more than Pericles. Growing up to be a beauty, with many talents and a wonderful personality, Queen Dionyza naturally takes a scunner to her overshadowing her own daughter – we knew there’d be problems! After bumping off Lychorida, Marina’s nurse, Dionyza suborns some chap, apparently her lover in this version, to do the same to Marina. Possibly fortunately, some pirates arrive at the exact moment to prevent this murder, and steal her away. The would-be murderer reckons he can get away with his failure, as Marina’s not likely to be seen again in those parts, but hangs around in case they throw her back and he has to do the job after all.

We, however, are off to Mitylene and the bawdy house. Pole dancers do their thing on the ramps, while sailors and others mill around the market place. The music is modern, the lights are flashing – all painting a picture of modern-day sleaze and corruption. No redeeming features to this den of iniquity.

Business appears to be bad. The box is where the bawd and her minions hang out – all 50s style, with a lovely air of seediness. They’re down to their last three whores, and they’re past their shag-by dates. Boult is sent off to the market to find fresh meat, and brings back Marina – a virgin. Hooray! She’ll make their fortunes. Or will she? We see two sailors leave the place, vowing never to enter such a house again – what can be going on? Then we see a man in a grubby raincoat, looking every inch the perv, and pretending to be blind, approaching the door. He’s obviously well known to the occupants, as the bawd informs us “Here comes the Lord Lysimachus, disguised”. Turns out he’s the governor of the place, and when he throws off his covering, they’re all suitably impressed at the way he fooled them all. Hanging the grubby coat on the back of the door, he enquires if there’s any fun to be had, or some such, and they offer him Marina, probably a last-ditch effort to get her to co-operate. He takes on the task with relish, and after a bit of small talk, the others leave the two of them together.

Marina’s clearly not happy with what she’s being asked to do, and as he undresses, taking off his tie and then his trousers, he asks her about her past, how she came to this line of work and so on. Her replies rebut his assumption that she’s a prostitute; as the bawd knows only too well, she’s yet to have intimate contact with anyone! She keeps turning his words against him – when he points out that she’s in a house of prostitutes, she asks if, knowing this, he would come here? She reminds him of his honour, that he is, to all outward appearance, an honourable man, and he ends up giving her money. And then more money. Then he dresses again, and heads off, throwing the grubby coat into the corner – the sign that he’s given up on paying for sex completely. The bawd is at her wits’ end when she finds out. Boult offers to give Marina  her induction course, so they leave him to it, but she manages to persuade him that they’ll be better off using her talents – singing, weaving, sewing and dancing – to earn money honestly. She gives him the money the governor gave her, and he agrees to help her as best he can.

Meanwhile, Cleon has found out that Marina is dead, and who killed her. He’s rather upset, but his wife persuades him to go along with her plan to say Marina died of natural causes, and to mourn her as if they cared. When Pericles finds out his daughter is dead, he’s so grief-stricken, he goes on a seriously long Mediterranean cruise, refusing to leave his cabin, to shave, etc. Eventually he arrives at Mitylene, where the governor comes aboard to enquire after his health (plus carry out customs checks, probably), and finds a man suffering from serious depression. Naturally he thinks immediately of the amazing girl he met at the bawdy house, who has since been wowing Mitylene society with her beauty and wisdom. Fortunately, she happens to be close by, and soon arrives to help the poor unshaven man on the ship. This is such a moving scene, and I found myself sniffling quite a bit during it. At first, Pericles doesn’t want to see or speak with Marina, and he rejects her physically when she tries to touch him. When he does look at her, he’s reminded of his own dear queen, and it’s here that many productions insert some physical attraction for her that echoes the earlier incestuous relationship between Antiochus and his daughter. But re-reading the lines confirms what this production has done – there is no actual reference to, not even a hint of, Pericles having lustful thoughts towards his daughter. Naturally, he’s overcome with emotion as she tells her story, and of course, she doesn’t know who he is at this point. I think that’s one of the difficult things with this scene – clearly establishing who knows what about whom. Anyway, there’s a touching reconciliation. Then the governor shoves his oar in, as he was only holding back from proposing to Marina because she wasn’t of a high enough status, but now he can ply his suit, and is accepted.

When Pericles takes some rest – it’s all been a bit much for him – he sees a vision of Diana, here doubled with Thaisa, who tells him to go and give thanks at her temple in Ephesus. There, Diana’s statue is led on by a group of nuns, among them Thaisa, and after Pericles’ speech of thanks, she recognises him and faints. It all comes out then, the family are reunited, lots of sniffles all round, and Gower finishes off by telling us how all the baddies get their just desserts, and all the goodies are rewarded. A happy ending.

I loved this production, and was totally happy that we’d booked to see it again at the Winter School. All the performances were good, and the whole production had a liveliness and joy of the storytelling that made it a delight to watch, and to listen to. Joseph Mydell was exceptionally good as Gower, as was Richard Moore as Simonides. But the whole ensemble were excellent, and I left with my spirits high, looking forward to another performance. We won’t often see such a good production as this.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

To Kill A Mockingbird – December 2006

Experience: 8/10

By Harper Lee, adapted by Christopher Sergel

Directed by Michael Buffong

Venue: Chichester Festival Theatre

Date: Friday 1st December 2006

          This was a real tear-jerker, and no mistake. If I were to read the book, it would be a sodden mass long before the end.

I don’t have any comparison for this adaptation, but it seemed familiar from the film, so I assume it’s pretty faithful to the original book. The set was all walls, doors, windows and yard, with some picket fence and plants in pots. All the neighbours’ houses and yards were represented in this one space, and the action flowed freely amongst them all. A couple of extra walls came into play when we needed a courthouse, along with lots of seats and tables, and we also had a short stop at the prison (this was when my eyes started to get moist) to see the angry mob thwarted by an innocent child. I’m getting emotional again just remembering it all.

I love the way the story is told from the child’s viewpoint. It gives us an opportunity to examine ourselves and the situation explored in the play from a simple perspective. Good is obviously good, and evil wears a black hat. Except that things aren’t always that straightforward, and things don’t always work out the way you want them to. Even though I knew what would happen, I was still tremendously moved by it all.

The performances were all good. I especially appreciated Bettrys Jones as Scout, who has to carry so much of the emotional impact of the story through her character’s innocence. A neighbour was used as the narrator, instead of a grown-up Scout, and that worked fine. Atticus was played by Duncan Preston, with perhaps a tad less perfection than Gregory Peck brought to the screen version, and this worked well for me – it made the messiness of the whole thing more apparent, and emphasised that a lot of the people baying for blood were actually good people at heart who had just taken a wrong turning somewhere along the line. I spotted one of the officials at the trial, who held the Bible witnesses swore on, making some grimaces and movements to show his dislike of Negroes – a nice detail. And I sobbed mercilessly throughout the ending, when Boo Radley saves the children. I don’t know why this story affects me so much – I haven’t sobbed like this for a long time in the theatre, and it did me good to let it all out. I felt so much better at the end of the play, saddened as well, but complete in some way. A fine production, and well performed. Thank you.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

A Number – November 2006

Experience: 8/10

By Caryl Churchill

Directed by Jonathan Munby

Venue: Minerva Theatre

Date: Friday 17th November 2006

This play deals with the subject of cloning – a wonderfully open area for speculation and exploration, as yet largely untouched by dramatists. (I suspect sci-fi writers have already had a field day.) A father is confronted by three versions of his son – the ideal one, the original, flawed version, and another copy who’d been brought up without knowing his origins. The mother had died in an accident, and the original son had suffered from the loss of his mother, or from his father’s subsequent behaviour, or more likely from both – the father treats his son abominably, leaving him alone for hours on end, presumably beating him badly, and the like. Then the father decides to try and get his original “sweet” son back, to replace the monster he’s now got. So he opts for cloning, and gets back a lovely little baby, who turns out to be a “good” son. The other has been shuffled off into care. Unfortunately, the people doing the experiment, either for scientific research, or because they have to have some spares in case some don’t take, produce around twenty clones of the original, all of them still living. It’s this revelation that the “good” son brings to his father at the start, and the whole story unravels from there.

This production was immeasurably helped by the casting – Timothy West as the father and Sam West as the son. It did make one change of emphasis – when the son asks the father “Are you my father?”, we know the answer – it’s staring us in the face. With other casting, it might be possible to leave even more doubt in the audience’s mind about the relationships going on here. But this is not a complaint, merely an observation.

The set was minimal – a square floor, two chairs, lights that swept back and forth as if “scanning” the characters, and a vast array of test tubes hanging from the ceiling like a modern light fitting. This play is so tightly scripted, that we really don’t want anything too fussy to take attention away from the dialogue. And the performances tonight were excellent. There’s a lot of half-sentences, words tailing off into nothing, that say more than the words could do, and all of this was meat and drink to two such skilled actors. It took me a moment or two to tune in to the accents, but then I found the play almost Pinterish in its intensity and compactness. Not a word is wasted. The three sons are easy to distinguish, and the unfolding relationships are very compelling to watch. It’s a short play – only 50 minutes long – but it packs a lot into a small space. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

We did have one distraction the night we went. A lady in a wheelchair was taken ill towards the end, and several people were helping her – it looked like a doctor came down from the side seating to help out. She was taken out, and an ambulance was arriving just as we were leaving the theatre. I hope she was OK. Although it was visible to at least one of the actors, they carried on superbly, and we were able to keep our focus mostly on the play. There was also an appeal at the end for an actors’ charity, so buckets were to the fore on the way out.

I did miss some of the dialogue at times, which is the problem with theatre in the round – they’d put seats at the back of the stage as well this time, so the actors had to keep moving. Overall, though, it was a really good piece of theatre, and raises some interesting questions.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Cat On A Hot Tin Roof – November 2006

Experience: 8/10

By Tennessee Williams

Directed by Richard Baron

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Wednesday 8th November 2006

I didn’t remember much of the previous production I saw, so this was a very interesting one to see. The bulk of the first act is down to Maggie, the cat of the title, all jumpy because her husband hasn’t given her a child yet, and she sees her comfortable life slipping away if Big Daddy leaves his estate to the well-offspringed brother-in-law. For a women who has clawed her way up from close to the gutter, it’s not an appealing prospect. Her husband, Brick, doesn’t have a lot to say for himself in this act, but he makes up for it later on. All the performances were good. I didn’t notice much slippage in the accent department, although I’m no expert, and the reading of the play worked well for me. I could see who the characters were loud and clear, and the production was balanced enough not to take sides – just as well, since few of the characters get anywhere near likeable. It says a great deal for Tennessee Williams’ skill as a playwright that it can be so fascinating to sit and watch so many unpleasant people for nearly three hours.

The revelations over the next two acts were unsurprising, but the presentation made them very watchable. I was especially moved by Big Daddy’s stories of his time abroad, and the abject poverty he witnessed. Brick’s despair and grief were obvious, and I liked the nice tussle between him and Maggie over the pillow. He kept putting it on the couch where he’d been sleeping since his friend died, and she kept returning it to the bed, where she wanted him to be. God knows what any child born into that family would have to put up with (now there’s and idea for a sequel). It’s a shame this wasn’t better attended, but fortunately there were lots of younger people there who may have got an insight into more powerful drama than we usually get on stage, and even on TV.

© 2006 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me