Category Archives: Comedy

Canvas – June 2012

7/10

By Michael Wynne

Directed by Angus Jackson

Venue: Minerva Theatre

Date: Tuesday 5th June 2012

We’re not camping or outdoorsy people, Steve and I, so I suspect some of the jokes in the early stages of this play passed us by; others in the audience were finding it funnier than we were at the start. Once the characters were established, though, the humour became more general, and the laughs came more readily. The penultimate scene, the farewell party, was absolutely hilarious and well worth waiting for.

The play showed us three couples, some with kids, and the woman who was theoretically running the camping site they were all staying on. Justine and Alan had brought their kids to the camp site for a holiday at a crucial stage in their lives. Their landscape gardening business was in difficulties, as was their relationship. The camping put them under even more strain but also gave them the chance to work things out, and the final resolution of their situation was appropriate and not unexpected.

Bridget and Rory were another couple with children and completely different attitudes in just about every respect. Bridget was a teacher, and about as controlling as any mother could possibly be, scheduling every second of her children’s ‘holiday’ with worthwhile and improving activities which she mistakenly calls ‘play’. She threw her husband, Rory, out some time before, but allowed him to come on this holiday, which is his only chance to spend some time with his kids. He’s a bit of a doormat, but much more likeable than Bridget.

Alistair and Amanda were the posh couple, who brought so many extras to make their life more comfortable that they weren’t really camping at all. Both were into keeping young and beautiful, and Alistair was the sort who tries it on with every attractive woman in the vicinity. Amanda was used to this character flaw but not happy about it, and presumably only stayed with him to enjoy the lifestyle. The final party was held in their tent, and little extras like a microwave, TV and suchlike clearly made life easier for these two. I did like Bronwyn’s comment about forgetting the tents had a microwave – got a good laugh too.

Bronwyn was the lady running the camp, though she was hard to find whenever the couples wanted her. She was struggling to manage the ‘working farm’ holiday experience on her own, her husband having left her when he discovered there was work involved. The interactions between these people were entertaining and some of the observations were very accurate, especially when Justine recognised that Bridget was a teacher before she’d told them.

There were obvious similarities with Ayckbourn’s writing, but this was a little more realistic as well as funny. The performances were all excellent, and the set worked really well. There was grass at the front of the stage with a simple path up the central line to the tent at the back. It was a large tent with big canvas flaps at the front and a lot of space inside, as well as a stove, sink, table and chairs (some broken) and a bedroom further back which was curtained off from the living room. The tent space rolled forward for some scenes, with the canvas sides lifting up so we could get a good view of the interior. This made for a good staging, and kept the pace up nicely. We certainly enjoyed the performance, as did the rest of the audience.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Filumena – April 2012

8/10

By Eduardo de Filippo

Directed by MIchael Attenborough

Venue: Alemida Theatre

Date: Wednesday 18th April 2012

It was good to see this one again. It’s been almost thirty years since we saw it at the Connaught, in the days of three-weekly rep (pause for a nostalgic sigh), and I remembered enjoying it then, even if I didn’t remember the story. The set was lovely, the performances all very good, and there were many loud laughs during the afternoon.

The set was wonderfully detailed, with an overall wash of sepia and lots of flowers everywhere creating a strong Mediterranean feel. The location was a small terrace inside a large house, with steps up to the first floor hidden away at the back, and doors to the kitchen and Domenico’s study on either side. Above the study doors was the balcony to Filumena’s room, and the terrace held a round table and several chairs, as well as a tree growing towards the back. The costumes were all in keeping too.

The story was relatively simple: Filumena, who has been Domenico’s mistress as well as running his business for many years, has faked a fatal illness to coerce Domenico to marry her. She’s done this to help her three sons, born when she was a prostitute, one of whom is apparently Domenico’s offspring. The boys are all grown men, but she wants them to know who their mother is and also give them a good name, Domenico’s name, in fact, while she still has a chance. In the process she sees off a much younger rival and overcomes Domenico’s natural anger and resentment at being tricked, to create a happy family situation for all of her children.  It’s all the more impressive because, in her situation, the normal solution to pregnancy would be an abortion; she chose to have her children and arranged for their upbringing against the prevailing ethos, and if she had to rob Domenico in the process, so be it!

The morality of her actions was never really an issue given the poverty of that part of Naples where she grew up. The prostitutes were regarded with respect because they were actually earning money and could feed and clothe themselves. And if she did take Domenico’s money to raise her sons secretly, at least she ran his business so effectively that he could indulge himself on the rest of the profits without noticing the shortfall. Her insistence on not revealing which of her three boys was Domenico’s son was important, and even he came to realise by the end that it meant he would never treat any one of them better than the others (nor try to control their lives either).

Mind you, it didn’t stop him trying to find out, which led to one of the funniest sections of the whole play (and there were several to choose from). Before their second wedding, the real one, Domenico spent some time alone with the boys, and tried to find some clues in the way they behaved or in their talents, to show which one was his son. At first he thought the womanising tailor could be the man; they shared a love of the fair sex. But then the others confessed to the same feelings, even if the married son was too scared of his wife to act on his inclinations. Singing was the next test, but no luck there either – who knew there could be three tone-deaf Neapolitans! This was hilarious stuff.

Samantha Spiro was excellent as Filumena, and Sheila Reid gave a nicely detailed performance as her maid, Rosalia. Clive Wood and Geoffrey Freshwater made a good double act as Domenico and his sidekick Alfredo, and the rest of the cast supported them really well with lovely performances. As we left the theatre, one man was even booking to see it again, and I can understand why.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Barefoot In The Park – April 2012

7/10

By Neil Simon

Directed by Maureen Lipman and Peter Cregeen

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud

Date: Friday 6th April 2012

This was good fun. The comedy was a bit dated, but the cast delivered their lines really well – Maureen Lipman as Mrs Banks was superb – so there were plenty of laughs all the way through. It was nice to see Dominic Tighe playing a man for once, while Faye Castelow seems to have cornered the market on ditzy young airheads with plenty of heart. Oliver Cotton completed the lead quartet with his flamboyant older man, and the support cast were all fine.

The set was suitably small, with a massive area of window dominating the top half and a tiny kitchen crammed into the apartment’s upper level. The furnishings were all nicely period, as were the costumes. The only down side for me was that I don’t care for those let-it-all-hang-out types who seem to be free spirits but who actually act very selfishly, as with Corrie’s character. Even so, I still enjoyed the evening, along with the rest of the audience.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Anne Boleyn – April 2012

7/10

By Howard Brenton

Directed by Rachel Tackley

Company: English Touring Theatre (based on the Shakespeare’s Globe production directed by John Dove)

Venue: Theatre Royal, Brighton

Date: Thursday 5th April 2012

There was a lot of overlap between this play and Written On The Heart, which we saw this winter in Stratford. Both concerned the writing of the King James Version of the Bible, but came at it from different angles. Written On The Heart looked in some detail at the wider historical context of the changes in religion at that time, plus the theological and political wrangling that went on, while Anne Boleyn focused on the lady herself, and the way in which her likely Protestantism and possible involvement with William Tyndale may have contributed to Henry’s change of heart and the secession from Rome.  This was blended with a framing context of James’s succession to the English throne, and his use of the KJV as a way of bringing together the warring factions within the new Christianity. All of this with a lot of humour, plenty of lively action and tremendous performances.

The play started with some of the cast coming out and chatting with the audience, a much harder thing to do in a proscenium arch setting. In fact the whole performance suffered from being taken out of the Globe and thrust into a non-thrust environment. Apart from the stuffiness of the atmosphere in the Theatre Royal, the energy levels just weren’t up to the liveliness of the Globe, as far as the audience were concerned that is. The actors gave us plenty of oomph, and I suspect a 3D acting space would have made the performance even more enjoyable. Still, I’m glad they’re touring some of their work, as I think it deserves a wider audience.

Anne’s ghost then chatted to us for a bit, and her direct gaze and frank speech made her an attractive heroine for a modern audience. She introduced us to James, Sixth and First, before she left, and immediately we learned of his obsession with Elizabeth’s frocks. James Garnon played him as a very naughty schoolboy who just happens to be king, although his upbringing had made him shrewd as well as rude. He also had a stammer and a tendency to fart, and all in all it was an excellent performance.

The play then alternated between Anne’s story and James’s, with the bulk of the story being about Anne. We saw the beginning of King Henry’s seduction of Anne (or was it the other way round?), through the political attempts to have Henry’s marriage to Katherine annulled, to the final plot against Anne by Cromwell which led to her trial and execution. She also met William Tyndale a couple of times along the way, a speculative insertion by the author but not without foundation. James’s story started with his arrival in London, and combined his sexual romps with George Villiers with his determination to get agreement between the warring religious factions in England – the recently established Church of England, the puritans and the Catholics. Not an easy feat, given the intense hostility that existed between the groups, and so the idea of a new translation of the bible came along, a way of bringing the divided flock together. The play ended with a very drunk James seeing Anne’s ghost; he passed out from the drink leaving her to say her final lines to us, the demons of the future. It was a surprisingly upbeat ending to a very interesting and entertaining play.

All the performances were excellent; I’ve already mentioned James Garnon, and I will also mention Jo Herbert, who played Anne, and gave her all the liveliness, intelligence and passion the part required. But the ensemble worked brilliantly together, and only the deadening effect of the proscenium arch held my enjoyment back to the 7/10 level. I’d certainly see this again, especially if performed in a more suitable space.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Twelfth Night – March 2012

7/10 (preview)

By William Shakespeare

Directed by David Farr

Venue: RST

Date: Thursday 22nd March 2012

This was an excellent production with very good performances, and a huge improvement on last night. The set was by the same designer, Jon Bausor, and used the same basic design. The floorboards were still there, and there was still no walkway front left. This time the corner area did have water in it, and we were reminded of Singing In The Rain at Chichester last year, so sitting in row C, right by the aisle, we were glad Steve brought a carrier bag to protect the program. As it happened, the ‘tsunami’ didn’t wash up as far as our row, but there were a few wayward splashes – warm water, of course – and others who were nearer did feel the effect. The staff were very good in the interval, sorting out any problems, though some in the audience may have wished they’d provided more of a warning beforehand as well as the towels that were so freely available after the first half!

The crane track had become a girder tonight, and was partly boxed in. There was another girder at right angles to it, also partly covered, and around the join there was an area of crumbling ceiling, very reminiscent of the industrial grunge set of David Farr’s King Lear a few years ago, also a Jon Bausor design. The metal post with ironwork was more visible tonight, and it turned out to be a whole row of them which had been mostly hidden during The Comedy Of Errors. The vertical part of the ramp from yesterday seemed to be at a couple of different angles tonight creating a slightly lower angle, and tonight the objects on there included a bed (reminded Steve of the recent Taming bed, much reduced in size) and a table with a lamp. There was also a bathtub suspended over that general area – took me a while to spot what it was. Behind all of this I could now see the back wall of metal with at least two portholes in it. It’ll be interesting to see how this develops for The Tempest.

At the back of the thrust and to the right of the stage a sloping ramp led off, and was blocked by a revolving door set at the same slanting angle. Just to the left of that was the reception desk area, with lots of pigeonholes behind a short curve of desk. A small screen to the right of this desk, combined with a telephone, allowed Maria to observe who was at the gate, which was a nice touch. This was also the hiding place for Sir Toby, Sir Andrew and Fabian during the letter scene. To the left of that was a pillar leaning drunkenly, with a leather seat around it; the leather looked the worse for wear as did most of the furniture on stage. Further to the left was another leather armchair, and beside that a large globe with the land areas positioned round an open mesh. Behind this chair, towards the back of the stage, was a lift, the old fashioned kind with expanding metal doors. With a small platform beside it at the top, the lift shaft was encased in a metal mesh, so we could see a lot of what went on inside it, though it was used for a magnificent reveal later on. Further to the left, a flight of stairs led up to the first balcony, and below that stood a grand piano with a picture of Olivia’s brother on it surrounded by candles, flowers, etc. I didn’t spot this right away, but then there was so much else to look at.

Coming forwards, there was a low padded stool over on the front right of the stage which seemed to have a chess board set up on it; there was still room for people to sit on it or put a tray with coffee things there if need be. A plain chair sat further back from that, while over on the water side there was a diving board built out from almost the centre of the stage to just over the water. The floorboards had a ragged end, in keeping with the style of set, and some dipped down towards the water. The only other thing I remember at this time was the chandelier, which was swathed in black cloth. I first noticed it when someone in Olivia’s household switched it on, a nice reminder of her emphatic mourning.

The costumes were all modern dress, and worked very well I thought. The men usually wore suits, although Sir Toby was in casual gear with a colourful Hawaiian shirt, and Sir Andrew tended towards casual sportswear. Olivia’s maidservants wore black dresses with white aprons, and Malvolio was immaculate in his pinstripe suit, toupee severely slicked down to one side. There were two guards in uniform – white shirts, black trousers – and Antonio wore a large waterproof jacket. Olivia was in black for the first half, a calf-length dress, and changed to a flower print frock during the second half, via an ivory wedding dress. I’ll describe the Viola/Sebastian combo later, along with the nifty outfit Malvolio chose to impress Olivia with.

So to the staging (this may take some time). When the lights went down at the start, I saw various actors come on and take up their positions, mostly lying down. I thought we were going to get the shipwreck stuff first tonight, as the performance opened with Viola emerging suddenly from the water (there’s a long slide apparently, so they don’t have to hold their breath for too long). She stood up in the water, then clambered out, and turning to the audience she asked “What country, friends, is this?” She then spotted the bag lying by the side of the water; it was clearly Sebastian’s, and she knelt there, grieving over the bag and her lost brother while Duke Orsino leapt up, from the chair I think, and carried on with “If music be the food of love”. He was in a pretty rough state with his clothes dishevelled, as you might expect. The good news was that from the beginning tonight we could hear almost every line perfectly well – no worries there. After this scene, the sea captain continued by answering Viola’s opening question, coming on from the back somewhere and bringing on a blanket for her to use. He agreed to help her disguise herself, and I was very aware that with her brother’s bag she would naturally have some of Sebastian’s clothes to wear.

Sir Toby emerged through the revolving door for the next scene, and was as drunk as a skunk, if not drunker (apologies to skunk-lovers, and indeed, skunks everywhere). I think a servant may have switched on the chandelier at this point, but I’m not sure. Sir Toby sat in the armchair, and dangled his feet over the side when he was talking about his boots. Maria was brisk in her chiding, and for once Sir Toby seemed to be in earnest when he complimented Sir Andrew. Given his state of inebriation, he might actually have believed what he was saying.

Sir Andrew’s arrival a short while later was all we could have wished. We heard his horn before we saw the man, and he entered still wearing his biker’s helmet. When the helmet came off, his fair hair erupted into a tousled mop which got a laugh all on its own. Bruce Mackinnon’s performance was absolutely impeccable, and we were soon warmed up and chuckling away at his wonderfully funny delivery of the lines plus his comic expressions and business. He illustrated the “back-trick” by moonwalking backwards – we applauded, eventually – and when he left the stage the audience was definitely in a livelier mood than when he entered.

Valentine and Cesario came on next, and while Valentine sat on the diving board to light up a cigarette, Cesario stood in the middle of the stage, wearing green trousers, a light blue jacket and a patterned shirt, and also lit up. Her inexperience with cigarettes was obvious – she had the cigarette the wrong way round and nearly lit the filter, then coughed a bit once she did get it going – and then Orsino rushed on, clothes still in disarray, to speak with his new favourite. They didn’t make anything of the other servants being sent away that I could see, which is fine, and during their conversation Orsino took the cigarette from Cesario to smoke it himself. Emily Taafe’s Cesario was well done; with her short hair and slight figure she did look boyish, and her voice was low pitched enough to fit with a young lad, so it was believable that the Duke would see the female aspects of Cesario without realising he was actually a woman.

It was at the end of this scene, after Viola’s “myself would be his wife”, that she stood in the middle of the stage with the lights lowered on her and the rest of Orsino’s staff, and then Sebastian also popped up out of the water, sloshing a bit more onto the floor around that corner. He also stood up, slicked back his hair – Viola echoed that movement – and as they were wearing identical costumes it was clear this was the very Sebastian whom Viola had assumed was drowned. He pulled himself out of the water and lay beside it, resting, while the next couple of scenes played out; a little distracting, but not a problem.

The next scene had Maria scolding Feste this time. She brought on some coffee and cups on a tray and put it on the stool near the front. Feste looked hung over and was wearing sunglasses, wincing a bit as he took them off and the light hit him. The jesting between them was pretty good, and then Olivia turned up with her small entourage. She was pretty snippy with Feste at first, but softened as he wormed his way back into her good books with his catechising of her. For this bit she was sitting in the armchair, and he took another upright chair, placed it beside her with the back of the chair between them, as in a confessional box, while he knelt behind the chair to act the priest, as he would do later, of course, with Malvolio.

Malvolio’s reactions during this scene were excellent. He clutched his folder tightly, looking severe and grimacing when something particularly unpleasant happened, such as somebody having fun, even when it wasn’t at his expense. The animosity between him and Fests was palpable, and set us up nicely for his later mistreatment at the hands of Sir Toby and the rest. Olivia echoed his folded hands when she talked of “a known discreet man”, gently reproving him with those lines.

Maria was using the screen on the reception desk when she informed Olivia that there was someone at the door. Sir Toby seemed even drunker than before when he turned up – a lovely performance by Nicholas Day – and had great difficulty getting his words out, the way drunks do when they have to think long and hard about everything, like words, walking, breathing, etc. He reminded me of Frank Gallagher in Shameless at this point.

When Malvolio returned he was clearly disturbed to have spent time with someone who upset the natural order. Olivia had some trouble getting him to describe the young gentleman, and as her back was to me at the relevant point, I’m not sure what it was that piqued her interest enough to have the young man brought before her. She had her maids cover themselves as well, and as at least one of them took off her apron as well, I could see how difficult it would be for anyone who didn’t know the household to tell which woman was Olivia. All four of them sat or stood around the room, so when Cesario arrived, he was immediately unsure of himself.

The dialogue was well done for this bit, and soon Olivia and Cesario were alone. Olivia was well unhappy at Cesario’s insult regarding the tenacity of her looks, but I didn’t spot any particular reaction from Cesario on finding out how beautiful his ‘rival’ was. Later, when Cesario was telling Olivia of the lengths he would go to if he loved her as Orsino does, my view was blocked by Olivia herself, so I’ll have to pick up on their expressions next time, but even from the back I could tell that Cesario’s passion was having an effect on the lady.

That effect continued through Cesario’s departure and her reflections on the speedy nature of infatuation. There was such a loving glow about her that when she gave her ring to Malvolio – she turned her back on him and removed it from a chain about her neck by ripping it off, hiding the chain in her hand – he mistook her radiance combined with the way she put her hand on his arm as a sign of affection towards him, another pointer to his later misapprehension of the letter.

Finally Sebastian was able to get up from the floor, as he responded to Antonio’s question. Their conversation was short, and for once I could have sworn Sebastian actually mentioned Viola’s name, but it’s not in my text and apart from some lovely comedic touches later on, I didn’t spot any significant changes during the play. They did cut some lines, but that’s to be expected. Cesario entered next, and shortly after she came on we heard a beeping sound. It turned out to be the sound of one of those trolley cars, as used by the elderly, only this time it was being driven by Malvolio. Health and safety requirements were well to the fore, as the beeping noises continued throughout the scene (my hearing aids were going nuts!) as well as two flashing amber lights. I liked this staging very much; it not only explained how Malvolio managed to catch up with Cesario, but gave us an extra laugh as he drove the cart round in a large circle before parking it near the back, so we could all see the sign on the back of the seat: For Management Use Only. The ring was dropped contemptuously on the rug in front of the chair (stops it rolling away, I would guess) and after Viola had finished sharing her thoughts on this latest development, she threw it into the water tank. No real splash; it was too small.

Sometime earlier I had noticed an actor sneak on to the left of the stage and lie down behind the piano. I wasn’t sure who it was, but it now became clear – it was Sir Toby, who struggled to his feet to advise Sir Andrew, likewise well gone, on the exact nature of ‘early’. They were both wonderfully drunk, so drunk that a rowdy song was inevitable, and I enjoyed this scene from beginning to end. Feste wasn’t as bad as the other two, but he joined in the merriment, and even took a picture of the three of them together at the appropriate moment on his mobile phone – “Did you ever see the picture of we three?”

Feste had brought on something I didn’t recognise at the start of this scene, and left it on the stool at the front. When he sang ‘O mistress mine, where are you roaming’, this turned out to be an electronic keyboard of some kind, which he used to accompany the song. He also used a microphone. It was a slow, melancholy number, and nicely done. They were soon into the livelier number ‘Hold thy peace’ – I think they cut Sir Andrew’s line about constraining “one to call me knave” – with Sir Toby and Sir Andrew playing bottles, and Feste using the reception desk bell as his instrument. This expanded into Feste banging an oar on the floor, Sir Toby possibly using the microphone(?) and something equally noisy from Sir Andrew.

Maria couldn’t persuade them to keep quiet, and when Malvolio turned up in his dressing gown he was suitably nasty to them all. He even grabbed Maria’s arm when she went to get some wine for Sir Toby, and she was quite shaken by his threat to tell Olivia. The plan to trick Malvolio is always hers, but often the others, especially Sir Toby, are involved to some extent; this time the others are on no fit state to devise any plan whatsoever. Sir Toby’s enquiry as to the reason for Sir Andrew to beat a puritan was dropped (worked well for me, especially as the line itself got a good laugh).

I’m not sure when it happened, but sometime during the first half Sir Andrew took a little dip. (The trouble with non-textual business is that it’s harder to remember where it occurred.) He was sitting on the end of the diving board, with Feste beside him, and I noticed he was gradually edging further back. Finally he fell off, and caused a huge wave of water to wash over the side of the tank, soaking anything on the ground level around it. (Programs were replaced.) I reckon this must have been the scene, presumably when Malvolio turned up, but I really can’t be sure – I’ll pay closer attention next time.

Back at the Duke’s court, Orsino was looking all rumpled again. His chat with Cesario about love was fine, and then Feste turned up again to sing his song ‘Come away death’. He used a guitar this time for accompaniment, but I thought it was little out of tune; he only strummed it occasionally so I wasn’t sure. (It’s always a problem with stringed instruments, bringing them onto a stage under lights – changes the tuning horribly.) I enjoyed his comments to Orsino this time about his mind being an opal; they came across much better than I remember from previous productions. After Cesario’s story of his ‘sister’, which was OK but I missed some of the visuals again, they left the stage and we were into the letter scene.

Fabian made the third in this production, a nice performance by Felix Hayes. The ‘box-tree’ they hid behind was actually the reception desk, and for most of the letter-reading they were peering over the desk with an object held in front of each of them – a vase of flowers, a book and a soda siphon. When one of them made an exclamation, he put down his object, and then had to grab the item held by the person next to him, which went down the line, so the objects were being passed around on a regular basis. Later, Sir Toby left the shelter of the desk and wandered over behind the pillar seat, which he had to dive under to hide himself once or twice. It was all wonderfully funny, including Sir Andrew’s recognition of himself as a “foolish knight”.

Maria left the letter on the stool, propped up on the chessboard I think, which didn’t seem a very obvious place to leave it. Even so, Malvolio managed to spot it, after he’d done a lot of preening and primping beforehand, of course. There was a slight adjustment to the toupee, and a fair amount of posturing, but the main comedy lay in the delivery of the lines, and the comments by the watchers. For “revolve”, Malvolio went over to the revolving door and did a circuit there.  His “smiling” was also funny, although he did actually produce some leering smiles from time to time before that. Maria was anxious to know if her trick had worked, and Sir Toby literally prostrated himself before her when she first came on, so delighted was he with their success.

Next up was Feste, sitting on the pillar seat with his keyboard, playing a little music, so when Cesario came along their conversation began very naturally. The chat with Sir Toby and Sir Andrew was brief but funny, and then Olivia came along to make her declaration of love to Cesario. Rebuffed, the first half ended with her sitting sad and alone on the stage, with the lights going out.

The second half began with Sir Andrew’s determination to leave immediately. He was on his mobile phone calling for a taxi at the start, and at some later point in his conversation with Fabian and Sir Toby said ‘yes, I’ll hold’, all very funny. Sir Toby took his mobile away from him, and ditched it in the water at the end of this bit, before Maria arrived to fetch them to see Malvolio. Then there was the short scene between Sebastian and Antonio, followed by the much anticipated arrival of Malvolio on stage.

In this scene, Olivia entered first, and it was clear that she’s been much affected by her passion for Cesario. I think this may be where she pulled a rope at the side of the stage and removed the black cloth from the chandelier; in any case she’s definitely in a state over her situation, having declared her love to a ‘man’ who doesn’t want her. Malvolio’s appearance, far from being the sober, calm presence she wanted, was entirely unsuitable for any occasion. He came down in the lift, and although the walls were see-through, they obscured enough of his costume for it to be a mystery all the way down. I felt this was a good way to make his entrance – we got the full impact all at once, and it was certainly an eyeful!

He was wearing yellow stockings, and they looked a bit tight from where I sat. They were cross-gartered all the way up, which didn’t help the circulation either. He had on a yellow tie which we could see when his jacket opened up, usually when he spread his arms wide, and little else. The posing pouch which adorned his nether regions was well padded (I cast no aspersions) and had studs; apart from that he was butt-naked, literally. This outfit, plus the grinning, would have sent many another woman screaming from the stage, but Olivia was made of sterner stuff. She did back away from him down the diving board, and for a short while I thought we were in for another splash, but at the last minute she grabbed him so she could swivel him around – he enjoyed that bit – and she was free! (And dry!)

Malvolio’s scene with Sir Toby and the rest was very funny too, and I loved Fabian’s line about “an improbable fiction”. With Malvolio gone, the mischief makers moved on to Sir Andrew when he turned up with his freshly drafted challenge. As Sir Toby read it out, I enjoyed Fabian’s comments; Felix Hayes has a deep resonant voice, and his comments of “good” were perfectly timed to make the most of the humour. After Olivia’s short scene with Cesario, Sir Toby and Fabian returned again to issue the challenge to him. Cesario was terrified, of course, and attempted to flee up the stairs to get back to the house. Fabian blocked his way, and as they were struggling on the steps, Sir Andrew came back on via the walkway. Sir Toby’s comment that “Fabian can scarce hold him yonder” was very apt, and gave Sir Andrew completely the wrong impression. Instead of his horse, he offered to give Cesario his Kawasaki 750 – he handed Sir Toby the keys – which fitted very well with the situation.

Each ‘man’ was given something to fight with – not swords as such, just bits of wood – but there was very little chance of them doing any damage as they never got near the other with their wild swings. Not that Antonio noticed this when he arrived and drew on, as he thought, Sebastian’s side. The officers were there amazingly quickly to arrest him – one of them, Solomon Israel, was using a West Indian accent – and Antonio was almost off the stage before he could even ask ‘Sebastian’ for his money. Viola reacted to being called ‘Sebastian’ – this is the first indication she’d had that her brother might be alive – even before her lines indicated that was the way her thoughts were going.

Feste’s argument with Sebastian was good fun – I was increasingly happy with Kevin McMonagle’s interpretation – and the fight with Sir Toby and Sir Andrew went badly as usual. Sebastian had two of them holding him and still managed to break free, although he took a tumble over the chair as a result. This was the turning point for Sir Toby; Olivia was so angry with him for hurting her beloved that even he realised he couldn’t go on causing problems in her household, and although his lines to that effect don’t come till a later scene, his reaction at this point made it clear. I’m not sure exactly when Olivia changed into her summer frock, but I reckon she was wearing it by this time. Sebastian was ready and willing to go along with whatever this beautiful woman wanted, and she was delighted to find him so amenable.

Now the stage was darkened, and I could just make out a vague shape rising up through a trapdoor in the centre of the stage. I did wonder briefly about the mechanics of the water slide vis-à-vis this trapdoor, but that’s a question for a post-show discussion sometime. Up on the platform by the lift, Maria was kitting Feste out with his Sir Topaz outfit, and after Sir Toby arrived, Feste went down in the lift to visit Malvolio. A faint light allowed us to see the poor man, now stripped of his jacket and tied to his cart, which appeared to be broken although the amber lights were flashing (no beeping this time, thank goodness). Feste’s taunting of Malvolio was soon over, and for once I could see the inference that ignorance was a worse form of darkness than the lack of physical light. When Sir Topaz met Feste himself (a neat trick) he slapped him a couple of times before heading back to the lift.

Sebastian came down the stairs from Olivia’s chamber bare-chested (not an ordeal to watch, by any means) and continued to dress himself as he reflected on the strange situation he was in. When Olivia arrived with the priest, decked out in her wedding dress and saying “Blame not this haste of mine”, I suddenly thought she was worried she might start to show a bump before the marriage and lose her reputation. Sebastian was clearly a quick decision-maker, and accepted her offer of marriage on the spot.

Fabian and Feste were next on, and the short exchange between them was good, with Feste giving Fabian Malvolio’s letter and then taking it back again before he’d had a chance to read it. Mind you, he was pretty slow in that department. With the Duke’s arrival we were into the end game, and it all happened pretty fast from here on. At least Orsino had tidied himself up for this visit; instead of his usual scruffiness he looked smart, and his attendants carried the flowers and chocolates which he intended to give to Olivia. Feste’s fooling was well done, and Antonio’s arrival filled the time nicely till Olivia came along.

She was in a foul mood though, at least with Orsino. She dumped his flowers and chocolates in the water, but kept making sheep’s eyes at Cesario. It was so obvious that Orsino would have had to have been even stupider than Sir Andrew not to have spotted it, and this Duke was no fool. He was already going through the revolving door, with Cesario hard on his heels when Olivia’s “husband” called them back. With the priest confirming Olivia’s matrimonial claims, things already looked bad for Cesario when Sir Andrew came through the door with a smear of blood on his forehead. He shied away from Cesario when he saw him, as did Sir Toby who followed shortly afterwards. His line “I hate a drunken rogue” seemed to give him pause, as if he was starting to realise that he may fall into that category himself.

And then Sebastian turned up, went straight over to Olivia and apologised on bended knee for hurting her kinsman. The crowd were all alarmed – seeing twins seems to have that effect in Shakespeare’s plays. Olivia was standing on the board, Viola front right, Orsino back right and Antonio back left at this point. With Sebastian looking at Olivia to begin with, he didn’t notice Viola at all, and then when he saw Antonio and faced him, Viola was directly behind him. When he did turn round, their reunion was as good as I wanted (sniffled, of course), and Olivia for once seemed perfectly happy with her good fortune, after the initial embarrassment of realising that she had actually fallen in love with a woman!

With these twins having a significant difference in their height, they didn’t go in for further mistaken identities this time, which suited me fine. Malvolio made his entrance clad in just his suit trousers this time, and despite Olivia being conciliatory he was too far gone to do anything but snarl his threat of revenge at them before he left. He even included the audience this time, not nice.  The priest was on stage for this final scene, and reacted a bit to Feste’s admission that he impersonated Sir Topaz, though there’s scope for more there I fancy. Orsino and Olivia were well reconciled by the end, and as Feste settled down to sing us the final song, both couples ended up on the bed at the back; first the women perched themselves on it, then the men followed and snuggled up beside their partner. I was again reminded of the Taming production, where Lucy Bailey had commented that the whole point of a comedy is to get two people into bed together: mission accomplished. We gave them a long round of enthusiastic applause, and left well satisfied that we would be seeing this one again.

What else do I need to say at this stage? The lighting was a bit gloomy for me, until the end when a golden glow brightened the stage considerably. Olivia lay on the bed at the back through all the opening scenes, until shortly before she arrived on stage herself. I didn’t realise it was her at first, but as various characters rose up from their positions on the stage to take part in the play, it became obvious who she had to be. We were both very relieved that the problems with delivering the lines which we’d experienced last night with The Comedy Of Errors were not apparent in this performance, so I apologise if any of my comments on that performance reflected badly on the cast; they’re clearly up to the challenge of Shakespeare already, but perhaps the Comedy production just needs longer to settle than this one. This was only the fourth preview performance of this play, with press night scheduled for 25th April (the Comedy press night is a matinee).

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Comedy Of Errors – March 2012

5/10 (preview)

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Amir Nizar Zuabi

Venue: RST

Date: Wednesday 21st March 2012

This has the potential to be a very good production, but as yet the cast still seem to be finding their feet. This was only the 5th preview (press night 25th April). The dialogue was far from clear, so although I know the play pretty well, I reckon I would be struggling to follow the plot if it was new to me (and assuming I hadn’t read the program notes). The two Dromios are both well matched and also well differentiated; each wore an ‘I ♥ ____’ T-shirt with either ‘Syracuse’ or ‘Ephesus’ on it. They were the best thing in this performance, but even their comic business was being lost at times by the excessive staging.

The set was very important in this production. Ephesus is a thriving international port in this play, so that’s where they’ve set it; a good choice overall, though it did make the domestic scenes a little difficult to stage. The front left walkway had been removed, and that corner of the stage had been given a glossy black finish, representing water, and lots of rubbish has been plastered on it, representing the detritus floating in many a modern harbour. Another puddle sat a bit further back from this, also with a rim of debris, and there were wooden crates, oil drums and those big white canvas-looking builders’ bags around the place. A crane track ran diagonally from back left to front right, and various items were lifted onto the stage by this means, including the Virgin Mary (I kid you not!).

The rest of the stage was covered with wooden floorboards; at the back these rose up from the stage, first in a short shallow ramp, then as a vertical backdrop with jagged edges, lower at the left where the crane was operating. Several sacks had been stuck on this upright floor, and there were two bollards near the top with ropes wrapped round them which disappeared up into the flies. It was an interesting perspective, suggesting a topsy-turvy world as well as being a clear reminder we were at a port. Behind this panel of floorboards we could see an old fashioned metal post that’s the upright for some structure or other; it had curved metalwork corners suggestive of Victorian architecture. [23/8/12: Since learned that this is a structure in the Roundhouse which can’t be moved, so they decided to incorporate it into the set in Stratford as well.] There was another panel behind that which looked like corrugated iron(?) but I couldn’t see it clearly enough to be sure. There were two obvious trapdoors in the shallow ramp and the vertical part at the back, while others were concealed below oil drums and crates. At the start, there was also a fish tank sitting in the middle of the stage.

So it was a pretty grim setting for such a light comedy, and with gloomy lighting as well making it harder to see what was going on, this wasn’t the brightest version of the play I’ve seen. The opening sequence can be a  very moving scene, with the Duke explaining to Egeon (and us) just how much trouble he’s in, and Egeon in turn telling the Duke (and us) the sad history of his life. This time it was both unpleasant and unclear. The lights went down, and when they came up Egeon was having his head dunked in the fish tank by an armed guard, while another guard directed the light and the Duke came on in his dressing gown using a microphone to broadcast his words over the tannoy system. He only used this for the first few lines and some others during this scene; the rest of the time he spoke normally, which was a shame, as I found I could hear him much better with the amplification.

Egeon’s head was dunked several times, and at first I felt this was unnecessary brutality – this is a comedy, after all. Then I considered that this was simply a way of showing the life and death risk that Egeon, his son Antipholus and his Dromio are all taking by coming to Ephesus. Fair enough, but this is still a comedy, and I found myself wondering if the current generation are perhaps becoming too desensitised to this sort of thing, as was discussed during the post-show for Marat/Sade. Anyway, when Egeon hesitated before telling his story, the guard dunked him again a couple of times, and by this time I had spotted the Duke’s hand gestures to the guard telling him when to raise and when to lower. He even looked as his watch once to time it – very callous. Once Egeon did get started, the dunking stopped, thank goodness, and there were some signs that his listeners were being affected by his tale, but only a few. The dialogue wasn’t clear, I had the Duke’s back to me for a fair chunk of this section, and only my knowledge of the play kept me going – I just wasn’t engaging with these characters at all for once.

Things improved with the arrival of the other two Syracusans, Antipholus and Dromio. As the tank was cleared, and Egeon was dragged off to search through the city for someone to bail him out, a crate was carried on by the crane and lowered down on the far side of the stage. A nervous-looking chap paid off one of the workers and lifted the lid using a crowbar. Out popped Antipholus and Dromio, clearly determined to get into Ephesus by any means available to them, while the merchant’s opening lines warning them of their danger were almost irrelevant given this staging. With Dromio dashing off to the Centaur and the merchant very eager to free himself from Antipholus’s handshake as quickly as he could, Antipholus of Syracuse was soon left alone on stage to comment on his situation. Again, the lines weren’t delivered well enough for me.

Before Dromio of Ephesus arrived, another crate opened up towards the back of the stage and a young chap came out of it. When he turned round and saw Antipholus, he froze for a moment; they regarded each other warily, and then the young man ran off. Illegal immigrants were clearly a problem in this Ephesus. I think this was where the woman came out as well, with her fake designer handbags and red tracksuits. There was some good humour in this; it was clearly a Mary Poppins crate, with more coming out than the crate could hold. After the woman ran off to sell her wares, the scene between Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of Ephesus was OK, and I found myself wondering how easy it was to follow this story if you didn’t know it at all, especially if the dialogue didn’t come across well. Dromio of Ephesus was very clear, mind you, and suffered a lot of physical abuse for it. I do hope they don’t get too many injuries during the run.

The next scene with Adriana and Luciana was staged on a hanging platform which was brought on by crane. With a post at each corner, it held a dining table and three chairs, as well as the two women. It was lowered to the ground at first, I think, but later on it was raised slightly. This meant that it swung around a bit, as well as leaning drunkenly depending on where the characters stood, and they even made it spin deliberately, just to add to the distraction. And it was a distraction; this was probably the least interesting Adriana and Luciana I’ve seen so far. Mind you, the weak delivery of the lines and bland characterisation didn’t help – I’m assuming this will change for the better with practice. To be fair, Steve did reckon the actresses looked nervous on their swinging perch, so perhaps that was behind the lack of depth to these portrayals – they certainly came across better when their feet were on solid ground.

With that scene over the platform was raised again and carted off while the action continued below. Again, this was pretty bland, and much of Dromio’s humorous dialogue was cut, sadly. With more beating of servant by master, there wasn’t much of the joshing relationship between this pair that we’ve seen before, which weakened the performance for me.

Adriana’s arrival and pleading to her husband was reasonably good, but ‘Plead you to me, fair dame?’ was followed too quickly by the next line, and the laugh was lost. I did like the way they shifted the scene to the front door of the house, though. A door was carried over by the crane and lowered down towards the back. The characters all went through this, with Dromio being hit twice by the door, once by Adriana and once by Antipholus. It was funny each time, and half the pleasure was the anticipation – we could see it coming a mile off.

Antipholus of Ephesus’s arrival with his friends was a strange affair, not so much because of their entrance but because a group of younger folk behind us were clearly finding a lot more humour in the performance than I was. Their laughter was inexplicable to me a lot of the time, and even got to the point where I felt I was watching a not very funny play and hearing canned laughter which was slightly out of sync with the action, an unusual and rather surreal experience. I did miss a few funny moments admittedly, such as Adriana’s reaction later on when her husband gave the ring back to the courtesan and thanked her for her hospitality – hope to pick that up next time around – but for the most part I reckon we just had different senses of humour. Anyway, Antipholus of Ephesus came on with his mates, singing a song, and that was that.

The door obligingly swung round a bit during the next bit so that we could see both Dromios as well as Nell, with her graphic vegetables. She was well padded, and took every opportunity to get up close and personal with her man, as she believed Dromio of Syracuse to be. Antipholus of Ephesus probably lost his temper – I know the play so he must have – and before he left with the others he took several runs at the door but it defeated him each time, finally leaving him prostrate on the ground.

After they left, Antipholus of Syracuse re-entered, doing up his shirt and trousers, although it wasn’t so clear this time how they came to be undone. Luciana followed him a few moments later to tell him off; I have no idea how the lines went, but she was only too ready to rush into his arms and kiss him a short while later so I guess it was business as usual. I was looking forward to the interval by this time. When Luciana left, the door rotated with her on the other side, so as it came round she was in front of it again. They played with this nicely; Luciana realised she was back in the same room as Antipholus, and after a bit of simpering she turned the door back round again. (It was pink on the reverse so we would know which side was which.)

Dromio of Syracuse’s description of Nell was so-so – again, the lack of a comedic relationship between master and servant didn’t help with this – and then he was sent off to find a ship they could leave on while Antipholus of Syracuse met up with the goldsmith and received the chain. When Antipholus suggested the goldsmith take his money then and there, he actually held out a banknote to him. I reckon it was nothing like the amount the chain cost, judging by the goldsmith’s reaction; he laughed indulgently and turned it down with the line “You are a merry man, sir”. After Antipholus’s final lines, the young man who had also emerged from a crate came on stage trying to get away from the guards, but they had him cornered. As they closed in, Antipholus was convinced they were going to catch him as well, but of course they thought he was their Antipholus. They surrounded the two men, arrested the young man, and included Antipholus in their group photo which ended the first half.

The second half began with an invented scene. The Duke, Egeon, some guards and the band entered on the right hand walkway, with the recording of the Duke’s earlier line about finding someone to help Egeon blaring out several times. The band was good musically, though they had a strange habit of turning up in all sorts of different costumes during the play. They were in dockers’ gear, including hard hats and Day-Glo vests, in S&M outfits, all in red tracksuits (the ones the woman had been selling) and one or two other costumes. I suppose they fitted in with whatever else was going on, but it didn’t add to the performance for me. Anyway, the guards hoisted up a dead body wrapped in black clingfilm – we could see a foot sticking out at the top of the parcel – and hooked it up to the crane. It was then taken towards the back, swinging slightly as these things do, and dropped off the dock behind the floorboards; there was a splashing sound and some glitter was thrown back over the boards to suggest water. Another reminder of the harshness of this regime and the high risk of death – they must think we’re incredibly stupid and/or have very short attention spans. I did think the body may have been that of the man they captured just before the interval, but if so his foot looked decidedly lighter in colour than the skin tone of the live man, so I don’t know if that was the intent. This extra bit didn’t really add anything for me.

The next scene proper had the merchant and the goldsmith entering with the officer – a menacing looking individual with a nasty looking stick – and the goldsmith was very keen to get his debt paid and avoid arrest. The scene unfolded in a pretty straightforward way, with Antipholus of Ephesus’s arrival, the arguments over who has the chain, etc., etc. I did enjoy Dromio of Syracuse’s entrance with a lifejacket and lifebuoy; he was so enthusiastic that we couldn’t help laughing at him.

For the scene between Adriana and Luciana, the platform came back with the fish tank on it, and Adriana was dunking Luciana in it, demanding to know what her ‘husband’ had said. This made more sense, and did at least give us some comic payoff from the opening scene. I noticed that the water level was much lower this time around, presumably so that Luciana’s hair didn’t get too wet. When Dromio of Syracuse turned up, they spun the platform round again, and got a little humour out of the way Dromio had to either run round with it to talk to Adriana, or stand still and speak to her every so often when she came around again. She also lashed out at him with her foot a few times when she came round. At the end of the scene, Adriana put her own face in the water as a sign of her dejection, also funny, but the bulk of the dialogue was lost again in the spinning.

For Antipholus of Syracuse’s next entrance, the band and everyone else were wearing the red tracksuits and showering him with gifts. When they left, Antipholus was standing on an oil drum which was on its side, so he had to balance on it as it gradually rolled a little backwards – an impressive feat. When his Dromio turned up with the money he’d got from Adriana, Dromio started off his questioning about the strangely absent officer by mouthing the words at first, which I enjoyed. Then he went through the long, roundabout descriptions, and finally Antipholus got his meaning; this was the first sign of some connection between these two. The courtesan arrived in a slinky short dress that left almost nothing to the imagination. Her posturing was also pretty graphic, although this wasn’t the coarsest Comedy I’ve seen by a long way. Dromio hid behind an oil drum during this scene, gesturing to Antipholus to run away from this she-devil, but as she was bending provocatively over another oil drum at the time, Antipholus was finding it hard to concentrate on anything else. Eventually Dromio tried to roll his oil drum at her to chase her off, but it had been specially flattened on one side and didn’t go very far. As Antipholus finally ran off, he threw her over it, another opportunity for injury, and as she got up she hissed in reply to Dromio’s parting words. I remember she took off a shoe – she was wearing very high heels – and threw it at somebody – don’t remember who – before saying her lines about going to Adriana and then limping off.

Antipholus of Ephesus, with his hands tied, assured the officer he wouldn’t try to run away, and then did just that a moment later. Poor fool, there was nowhere to run, and the officer had him in custody again almost immediately. Dromio of Ephesus’s entrance was good fun. He came in on the walkway trailing the rope behind him. As Antipholus stood there, Dromio pulled the rope through and piled it up in his arms; with more and more coming along it made a huge heap, almost obscuring Antipholus’s face. Dromio looked very pleased with himself, but he was soon unhappy again at his master’s anger.

Doctor Pinch’s arrival is something I usually dread, but this was one of the better versions of this scene. Jonathan Slinger gave us a camp gothic Pinch, with a crew of S&M attendants and a nasty pair of electrodes which he used whenever he could. The gleam of pleasure in his eye when he reckoned he had a madman to deal with was alarming, and Antipholus and Dromio were eventually bound in black clingfilm before being taken away on a trolley, accompanied by occasional prods with the electrodes.

Adriana was just sorting out the extent of Antipholus’s debts with the officer when the Syracusan pair arrived, and with this Antipholus brandishing a small knife, the rest ran off, afraid as much of their power to escape Pinch as the ‘sword’ itself. The meeting with the goldsmith and his creditor then followed, and this creditor had managed to conceal a considerably larger sword about his person which would have made the fight with Antipholus rather one-sided had Adriana and the rest not turned up to ‘recapture’ them.

This was when the Virgin Mary turned up. Rising above the boards at the back, her statue was brought forward by the crane. It also swung back and forth a bit, enough to make it funny rather than creepy. Everyone on stage stopped and looked at it, as did the audience. We also laughed. Then some angled doors lit up in the vertical ramp at the back; this was the abbey entrance which Antipholus and Dromio of Syracuse escaped through – more laughter.

The abbess came out almost immediately, and in no time at all she had established who was boss. Adriana even tried to hit her, but the abbess grabbed her fist and squeezed, and in no time at all Adriana was on the floor, saying ‘ow’ and with a very sore hand. When the throng threatened to rush the doors, a metal panel slid shut behind them – one of the highest security abbeys I’ve ever seen – but it opened again to let the abbess back in. As she stormed past the characters on stage towards the back, they all got out of her way sharpish, including the officer, who jumped aside looking very alarmed – no way was he going to tangle with that woman!

For the Duke’s entrance, Egeon was brought on by the crane, suspended high up and dangling near the front of the stage. His feet were supported, but even so he was there for quite a long time before being lowered down. The Duke came on with his assistant and guards and they were very jumpy, brandishing their guns around as soon as look at you. The Duke took out his own gun and was pointing it at people when he wanted them to talk, though at first the scene started off amicably enough. Adriana made her plea for assistance, kneeling down to the Duke as she did so. Her servant arrived, and that was when guns were first drawn; the poor chap looked terrified, but then so did everyone else.

When Antipholus of Ephesus and his Dromio turned up, this Antipholus still had a chair attached to one arm by the clingfilm, and there were scorch marks all over his suit. He pleaded with the Duke for justice, everyone told their version of the story, and by the time the Duke sent for the abbess he was waving his gun around and making everyone even more jumpy. At this point Egeon spoke up, and got a good laugh at his lines – he was looking right down at Antipholus of Ephesus at that point. He was lowered to the stage and unhooked while his apparent son and servant disclaimed all knowledge of him, and then the abbess returned, heralding the arrival of the other two twins. I couldn’t see them at first from my angle, so I lost some of the effect of this bit, but they were soon in view for the (sniff) reunion scene.

The Dromios had been very well cast, and looked plausible as twins, as well as having similar comedic styles. The Antipholi (Antipholuses?) weren’t going to fool anybody, being at least six inches different in height, and although they were facially similar, the fact that one of them had a chair strapped to one arm would have surely made it a bit easier to tell which was which. Once again, nothing was made of the wonderful line by the abbess, or Emilia as we then knew her to be – “where is that son who floated with thee on the fatal raft?” There was a general tendency in this production to skip quickly over the text-based humour in favour of the physical stuff, but this really is a gem of a line requiring some reaction from the assembled throng. There was hugging and revelations and I sniffled (I really can’t help it), and then the abbess invited everyone into her place for a feast. When only the Dromios were left, they said their lines very touchingly, but before they exited, the flying Virgin came back again for a final swing across the stage. It got a good laugh, and was OK on that basis, but it did spoil the energy of the ending. This time, the lights simply went out and that was that.

There were some other bits of staging that went quite well, but I’ve forgotten exactly when they happened. Dromio of Ephesus used rap rhythms for a few of his lines to his own Antipholus, which he did very well. The Syracusan pair hid in oil drums at the back of the stage at one point, with Antipholus fitting nicely in his, and Dromio having to lift the drum up and hide his upper body while his legs showed below – good fun. He also ran off still holding the drum, another funny bit. There were enough of these good ideas to make the evening an OK experience, and to suggest that the production may be quite good once it’s worked in, but from my perspective they do need to work on the dialogue a lot more. A lot of the ensemble are making their RSC debuts, so perhaps the voice work they’ll do here will bring them on; it certainly helped a number in the very long ensemble that spanned the Courtyard/new RST period.

The two Dromios – Bruce Mackinnon, a very good Algernon in The Importance Of Being Earnest at the Rose recently, and Felix Hayes, very good as Snug the joiner in the recent RSC A Midsummer Night’s Dream – were the clear stars of this production, and I’m already looking forward to seeing them again in this and in their other roles. Nicholas Day did the best he could with Egeon’s part, but the staging didn’t do him any favours, and of the rest I enjoyed Jonathan Slinger’s Pinch, Sargon Yelda’s Angelo (the goldsmith) and Solomon Israel’s officer.

Almost forgot to mention – the noise of the crane as it moved back and forth was another distraction we could have done without; Steve noticed it more than I did.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Recruiting Officer – March 2012

8/10

By George Farquhar

Directed by Josie Rourke

Venue: Donmar Theatre

Date: Thursday 1st March 2012

A great start for the new regime – a strong production of a classic play with some very good performances. To begin with, the Donmar has changed a bit since our last visit (Richard II) with the wall at the back of the auditorium removed and new seating with patterned cushions. I don’t know if any of that was just for this production, but they don’t usually lash out money unnecessarily so I reckon it’s an upgrade. And very comfortable we were too.

The set was very rustic, with wooden floorboards and wooden planks across the top of the stage, large round candlelit chandeliers and wooden stairs and posts in the back corners. They began proceedings before the start of the play with the band, a five-piece who also played the minor parts. They had a drummer who also strummed a small guitar, a proper guitarist, a fiddler, a flute player and a double bass player who wore his instrument like a guitar for most of the time. When we turned up about fifteen minutes before the off, they were already on stage and entertaining us all with some period music, ranging from slower ballads to lively jigs. They played a lot during the performance as well, particularly the song Over The Hills And Far Away, one of Steve’s favourites – we nearly joined in.

While they played, some of the cast came on stage to light the candles – the chandeliers were lowered for that purpose – which took some time as there were lots of candles on each one. There were also some pretend lime lights all around the edge of the stage – small electric lights inside shaped holders. When everything was ready, the band drew our attention by gathering in the middle of the stage and playing softer and softer, then breaking out into a more lively section. After that finished, they lined up across the stage and began to play some strange sounds. Many in the audience laughed straightaway, but it took me some time to recognise what they were doing – playing ring tones! I spotted the flute at the end, and we applauded when they finished and moved off the stage. When the applause died down, Sergeant Kite came on to start the play proper, and I was reminded of the ending of Our Country’s Good a few weeks ago, when this opening scene was performed in that play’s last scene.

I won’t go through the story for this one, it would take too long. There are two ladies and their suitors, a maid, a country wench, a fop, a judge and a rascally recruiting sergeant who moonlights as a German fortune teller. All end happily except for Lucy the maid, who loses her chance to marry the fop and become a lady. There are plenty of laughs along the way, and although there are undoubtedly references that would be funnier in Farquhar’s day, we didn’t feel left out by the language.

The performances were very good, although I felt the judge was showing his age a little in his hesitant manner; this weakened the performance slightly but not too much. Mackenzie Crook was fine as Sergeant Kite, but really came into his own as the fake German fortune teller, with his false goatee beard and black eye makeup. I liked the way they simply hung up a rope with a bead curtain part way along it to form the entrance to his room; a chaise longue, table and chair completed the furniture, and the table was laden with all sorts of bric-a-brac suitable for the charlatan’s trade. Tobias Menzies as Captain Plume was excellent with his smooth charm and willingness to cheat and swindle anybody to recruit more men into the army, specifically the Grenadiers. Mr Worthy, played by Nicholas Burns, was a good match for him, and I loved the way Worthy and his beloved, Melinda, had a coy little kiss at the end while Plume and Sylvia were having a proper snog in the middle of the stage.

Sylvia (Nancy Carroll) and Melinda (Rachel Stirling) were also very good. We’re accustomed to Nancy Carroll’s talent for playing men, but this time I felt she made her Wilful a little more feminine, appropriate for this production. Melinda was great fun. At the start she put on such an overly posh accent that we could barely understand her, while Sylvia made excellent fun of her ‘ears’ and graces. At the start of the second half, she spotted the Maltesers on the lap of the lady next to me and made for them with a gleam in her eye, only to stop herself at the last moment with a cry of ‘no’! The same lady was singled out later by Worthy as the person he had been coming to the park to meet, and she took in good part all the references that were made to her during this conversation and later on. Melinda also bumped into one of the posts as she made her way off stage after the reconciliation with Worthy, and did a nice job of staggering around a bit before finding her way past the posts and into the wings.

The maid and Rose, the country wench, were also fine, and we noticed that Plume was very gallant when Rose came on with her skirt all rucked up; he kindly sorted it out for her so she wasn’t showing off her knickers to all and sundry, although from the way she was behaving earlier we weren’t sure if that was part of the performance or not. And finally Mark Gatiss as Captain Brazen was an excellent fop, the sort of man you’d run a mile to avoid, but very funny when you only have to endure him from a comfortable seat in the auditorium. He was very civilised, though – he kept handing his hat or cane to people in the audience to hold for him while he enacted a scene, and always thanked them most graciously when he took those items back again.

The dialogue was very clear throughout, and made more sense than usual; the language of this period can seem very dated if not delivered well, but today it was fresh and understandable, which helped to make the production so enjoyable. The pace was good too, with two and half hours skipping by like frisky spring lambs. It was nice to see this play again, especially so close to Our Country’s Good, and we’re looking forward to the Donmar’s next offering.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Muswell Hill – February 2012

6/10

By Torben Betts

Directed by Sam Walters

Venue: Orange Tree Theatre

Date: Tuesday 23rd February 2012

The set was very straightforward for this play – a kitchen. We sat in the front row, and the U-shaped work island was open on our side. Sink on the right, hob and oven on the left, plus all the paraphernalia for a dinner party. A netbook was open on the front right corner of the unit, and there were two stools on that side. A fridge stood in the corner to our right.

The play covered the new social processes of the Facebook generation, with frequent interruptions and conversational non sequiturs as emails, texts and people arrived at the flat for a dinner party. Mat (it’s short for Matthew, but not the typical abbreviation) and Jess are in the process of breaking up, but their inability to connect with each other is getting in the way. Also getting in the way are their several guests; Karen, a friend of Jess whose own husband Julian committed suicide several years ago, Simon, a friend of Mat’s from university days who has an attitude problem, Annie, Jess’s sister by adoption who has  great looks and a needy personality but no discernible talent, and Tony, Annie’s ‘fiancé’, a much older man who teaches at the drama school Annie’s hoping to get into.

The action all takes place over the one evening, with short scenes in the kitchen giving us the story. Mat has heard from a social networking friend that Jess has been having an affair, and challenges her about this just before the guests start arriving – bad timing or what? There was no inkling of this revelation beforehand so it could seem a little odd, but with the communication problems of this group of people, somehow it worked. I found myself thinking that they might have done better to text each other even though they were in the same room, as they paid more attention to electronic conversations than to what the other person was saying.

The first guest to arrive is Karen, who’s still getting over the loss of her husband Julian, an incredibly selfish, opinionated boor from the sound of him. She tells plenty of stories about what he used to do, and it’s clear that she’s still a bit lost without him. She’s also a non-drinking vegetarian who doesn’t eat fish, so the dinner menu of prawn avocado and monkfish stew is off to a bad start.

Simon, the second to arrive, is one of those left-wing, belligerent, contemptuous types who have difficulty making friends because they’re always bitching about something. His initial unpleasantness puts Karen off, and the way he takes the photo of Jess and Annie off the fridge door and puts it in his pocket is decidedly creepy. He fancies Annie based solely on her photo, but once he meets the real thing he changes tack and starts chatting up Karen instead. She warms to Simon as the evening progresses and she starts on the booze again; she needs someone with his strong opinions and apparent dedication to helping others, and even comments herself later on that he’s almost exactly like Julian.

Annie is indeed a looker, but as Mat has already informed us she’s got very low self-esteem. She was adopted by Jess’s parents, having come from a very difficult background, and now she’s quit her job and taken up with Tony, a man old enough to be her grandfather, because he may be able to help her get into drama school. It comes as quite a shock to Jess to find out that her sister is engaged – Annie forgot to mention that fact before – and that Tony is also coming to the dinner party. Good job there’s a spare prawn avocado and plenty of monkfish stew!

Tony calls himself a director, but how much actual directing he does is anybody’s guess. He just can’t help taking advantage of all the lovely young things who attend his classes wanting fame and fortune and expecting him to get it for them. Unfortunately his wife has found out about this affair with Annie through reading his text messages and has thrown him out. He’s another emotional wreck, trying desperately to get back with his wife, aghast at Annie’s excessive clinginess, competing unsuccessfully with Simon for Karen’s attention and even trying to seduce Jess. Any port in a storm.

The scene where Annie introduced Tony to Jess was wonderful. He stood there, still in his coat and carrying a bottle wrapped in black tissue paper, looking uncertain of his welcome, while Annie gushed about their wonderful relationship and her future career as an actress and singer, and Jess just stood there, holding the platter with bread on it, completely stunned by what she saw. It was very funny, and made us very aware of the massive number of assumptions Annie was making and which Tony hadn’t yet had the heart to challenge. Well, the sex was great, so why bother?

Annie’s demonstration of her acting and singing abilities (I use the word loosely) was another horrifyingly funny moment. She did at least know Cleopatra’s lines from Shakespeare’s play and she was bossy enough with her supporting cast to be believable as a demanding queen, but her style of delivery was atrocious, even from behind. Her singing style appeared to be modelled on the worst excesses of the reality casting shows (we don’t watch them, so I’m guessing a bit here) and her nasal tones grated really badly with me. I’m confident that Tala Gouveia, who played Annie, is very talented to be so good at playing someone who isn’t.

There were plenty of entertaining moments like that throughout the play, and the cast brought the characters to life so well that at times I felt like I was suffering through a real dinner party. Despite this, I didn’t leave early, as I would probably have done in real life, so I did get a chance to enjoy the disintegration of most of these characters’ lives, and see the little bud of hope that was the emerging connection between Simon and Karen. The only down side is that when such unpleasant or boring people are being shown so realistically, the play itself can suffer from the lack of interest on the stage; this production wasn’t too bad, but it did drag a little during the early stages. Still it did pick up as things went from bad to worse, so it was quite a good afternoon in the end.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Less Than Kind – February 2012

7/10

By Terence Rattigan

Directed by Adrian Brown

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Saturday 18th February 2012

From the program notes, this play had originally been intended as a star vehicle for Gertrude Lawrence, but went through considerable changes when the Lunts became involved. Alfred Lunt led Rattigan to make so many subtle changes that it was effectively rewritten to make his part bigger and more attractive, along with other changes. The title was also changed, to Love In Idleness, and I reckon Steve and I must have seen a production of that many years ago as the plot was so familiar. This was the original version approved by the Lord Chamberlain, although there had already been some changes as the Cabinet Minister was Canadian instead of British, and certainly wasn’t unpleasant as far as we could see.

The set for the first two acts was a drawing room in a fairly posh London apartment. Given that it was a touring production, the furnishings weren’t lavish, but then there was a war on, so that fitted. The main door was centre back, there was another door off to the left (study), a window on the right, a piano on the left wall and a sofa and chairs with the necessary tables. The final act was in a small upper flat in a rundown part of London; doors off left, right and in the centre, the piano on the left wall, a small table and two chairs left of centre, and a small desk with the telephone and a typewriter front right. The ceiling was missing, and we could see the outline of a bombed building behind, and with that, the searchlights, and the smoke which invaded the living room, I was momentarily distracted by the idea that the house we were looking at had itself been bombed and was missing a chunk of the roof. Sara Crowe kept going through the mist, and we didn’t miss anything, but it was a weird moment.

The plot was based on Hamlet. Rattigan had been challenged on how he would handle the situation Hamlet finds himself in, and this play was his response. The connection isn’t just obvious, it’s frequently commented on by the characters in the play, and we enjoyed the humour of the parallels. It’s just a shame The Mousetrap hadn’t opened at this time, as it would have been even funnier if Michael had bought tickets for that instead of Death In The Family, or whatever it was. There was also a passing reference to the Lunts as dinner guests, although whether that was in the original or added for this production I don’t know.

This version of the story concentrates more on the Gertrude character, Olivia, as she negotiates her way through the return of her son from Canada, where he’d been sent to school for safety on the outbreak of war, and her relationship with a very prominent Cabinet Minister, Sir John Fletcher, who’s in charge of tank production. Her son, Michael, knows nothing of her relationship with the Cabinet Minister; his father died while he was away in Canada, and his mother has mentioned Sir John in her letters, but as a good friend, nothing more.

The play begins with Olivia arranging the guests for a dinner party. Her devious cunning is revealed early on, as she tells two reluctant invitees that the other is dying to meet them. Then we meet Sir John as he returns from work, and the arrival of her son is discussed. Sir John agrees to stay away for a day or so until she can bring Michael up to speed; Sir John favours the forthright approach, while Mummy still thinks her little boy – who may be seventeen(?), she can’t really remember – won’t be able to handle such difficult news.

And in a way, she’s right. Arriving earlier than expected, the objectionable little prig who turns up appears to have no sense of the world and sadly no sense of humour either. Michael has become indoctrinated in the new left wing attitude to everything – not communist as such, but still convinced that the order will be swept away once Herr Hitler has been beaten. Capitalism is dead, long live the revolution, that sort of thing. He’s appalled to find out that his mother’s taken up with a class enemy, a rampant capitalist, and is living the high life off her ‘immoral’ earnings. He argues with Sir John, and despite his warning about the ‘closet scene’, persuades his mother to leave Sir John and move back to respectable poverty.

So to the final scene in the flat. The relationship between mother and son is still fine, despite their lack of money, her unhappiness with their lifestyle and his insistence on reading ‘improving’ literature. We soon find out that Michael has a girlfriend, and when he heads out to spend the evening with her, Sir John turns up to try and win Olivia back. When Michael and his girlfriend arrive unexpectedly, Sir John hides in the next room while Olivia goes off for a bath, and the ensuing revelations lead to a satisfactory outcome for all concerned.

The play isn’t Rattigan’s best, but it’s still an enjoyable evening at the theatre. Naturally it’s a bit dated, and I reckon the changing attitudes between then and now may account for Sir John seeming more sympathetic to us now, banking crisis notwithstanding. The left-wing ideas which were taking hold at that time seem naïve and unrealistic today, though that may just be hindsight. The references to Hamlet were very funny, especially when Sir John had a little tirade about Michael’s behaviour, wearing a black tie and looking all mournful. He was too, wearing a big floppy black tie, which made us laugh. There was plenty of humour all round to keep us happy, and while I felt the audience didn’t respond as much as they could, the cast did a very good job and I wish them well on tour.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Taming Of The Shrew – February 2012

Experience: 8/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Lucy Bailey

Venue: RST

Date: Thursday 16th February 2012

Our seats tonight were centre front, on the aisle – great view. From here the bed design was much more obvious compared to the seats round the side. We saw a lot more, and the performance had definitely come on. Although some things were clearer with the better view, the cast also seemed to be more comfortable with the set and the production. Hopefully there are fewer trips to A&E now, too.

There was so much detail in the performances that I won’t be able to get more than a few things noted up. I noticed a lot of reactions within each scene from the characters on stage, and I think there was more comic business in some places, but perhaps I just didn’t see it all before. There were also one or two corrections to my previous notes, so I’ll go through the scenes in order.

The opening induction scene was easier to see from the front. There were shadows against the curtains along with the noises and the shouting, and when Sly was chased out of the pub, I think he rolled down the ramp. I noticed the lines about William the Conqueror this time, and after Sly passed out, the arrival of the huntsmen also came across much better from this angle. No real changes to the rest of the induction stuff, although Bartholomew seemed much more coquettish when he first turned up as the lady; he soon changed his tune when Sly sent the others out, even trying to clamber out of the window. I could see a lot more of Bartholomew’s horrified reactions when he was lying with Sly in the bed this time, watching the play, including when Sly rolled over on him and then fell asleep. He woke Sly up by slapping the top of his head.

The opening to the Taming bit was just as good as before, but again it was much clearer from this angle. Lucentio addressed the explanation of his background to Sly, to explain who he was, and shook his hand; this worked quite well I thought, and brought Sly even more into the performance as a whole. He also reacted a lot to the action of the play, particularly applauding Kate. I think the lord also came on for this scene, to watch and enjoy, but I found that a bit distracting.

The doors at the back had been opened up for this bit, showing steps curving round with a door in the middle. Several people were lounging around on the steps, and this area also served for the front of the church later on. On the whole though, I didn’t feel this area was fully integrated into the rest of the set, and knowing that it was almost completely invisible from the side seats made it seem even more redundant.

The arrival of Kate in the scold’s fiddle wasn’t so much of a shock this time, and she really lashed out at everyone in the vicinity once she’d been freed. Bianca mainly stood on the ramp for this scene, and I noticed that Lucentio tried to clamber up on it to reach her and was being held back by Tranio. After Hortensio explained his plan to find a husband for Kate to free up Bianca, Gremio spat on his hand to seal the deal with a firm handshake, despite a little squeal of ‘no’ from Hortensio. So his hanky was deployed even earlier than I’d spotted last time.

After the rummaging under the bedspread by Sly and Bartholomew, the lord left a hip flask on Sly’s stomach when he was lying (asleep?) in the corner. When Kate came on for the next scene she was swigging from one as well, and I noticed a flask in Petruchio’s hand too – definitely a theme. This was the scene where Kate interrogates Bianca about her suitors. Kate appeared at the back, smoking and drinking, and after she strolled down the ramp, Bianca appeared at the doorway, trussed up like a chicken. Her hands and feet were tied together, she had an apple (I think) in her mouth, and her face was brightly coloured. As she came closer I could see she had very red cheeks and big black eyebrows with a moustache. Crude but cheerful, and clearly Kate’s handiwork.

As Bianca teetered at the top of the ramp, she realised the only way she could get down was to roll down, so she blew out her gag, toppled over, and rolled down to the bottom. She managed to get up, and hopped around the stage a bit so she could interact with Kate, including their fights. She finished up on the floor at the front with Kate trying to smother her with a pillow. That’s sisters for you.

When Petruchio arrived and was being ‘wooed’ by Hortensio, there wasn’t a pause tonight after “Her only fault”, but the line got an even bigger laugh anyway. The audience also spotted the hanky going down on the ramp to protect Hortensio’s bum, and that got a laugh as well. When the suitors turned up at Baptista’s house, there was a strong reaction from all present when Tranio introduced himself as Lucentio, son of Vincentio of Pisa. His ‘father’ was clearly known to be a very wealthy man – Gremio blanched, while Baptista looked astounded and then very happy to have such a wealthy suitor for his daughter. Petruchio had already indicated that he was well pleased with the dowry on offer for Kate, and there was a similar reaction when he saw her for the first time – “Wow”!

During Kate and Petruchio’s first scene together, she took a long time to answer him at first. He’d gone through his options beforehand, about how he’ll contradict everything she does, and with this long delay he came back onto the centre of the stage – he’d been waiting for her response at the foot of the ramp – and redid the “say she be mute” bit, which got a good laugh. Then she started to have a go at him. This was typical of this production, and unusual in that most Kates fire off their remarks very quickly, while this Kate took her time to come up with her witticisms. They had quite a physical level to their ‘wooing’; the pissing on the floor was still in, but seemed to work better this time, and I was aware that she was doing her best to put him off. She had already felt the attraction when they’d been lying together on the floor, and I reckoned she was too scared to risk falling in love, with Petruchio or anyone else. It was after she felt the attraction that she got up and tried to leave, but Petruchio brought her back with his response.

After the mad ones have had their turn, the regular suitors were left to arrange matters with Baptista for Bianca’s hand. I noticed the knob references during Tranio’s claims on behalf of Lucentio – he mimed a huge erection and gargantuan balls. These references went on all through the performance, but I hadn’t seen them so much before. This bit was just the most obvious.

The scene with the tutors attempting to woo Bianca was as before, and still very funny, with Cambio taking off his glasses to show he was, in fact, Lucentio. He did the same thing later on when his father had arrived, and he and Bianca did a little ta-da thing when revealing that ‘Cambio is changed into Lucentio’.

The wedding was as before, but there was more visible through the doors from this angle; we could see the people coming from the church this time. Grumio had ‘Petruchio’ written on his chest this time, and Kate didn’t have any difficulty getting the word “entreat” out this time, but otherwise it was much the same.

After the interval, Petruchio’s servants were draped over the chairs as I described before, and this time I saw that Sly came on without his underpants, ran across the stage, grabbed the pan which one of the servants was holding in his hand, and made off with it as cover. He was also among the servants during the next scene, and I got the impression that he was gradually being drawn back into his own life, even though he kept popping up during various scenes shouting ‘I’m a lord, I’m a lord’.

When Kate arrived, she crawled through one servant’s legs and collapsed on the floor. The food was brought, and she was about to eat when Petruchio suggested they give thanks. She put the food down, reluctantly, and held her hands in silent prayer along with him. She finished too soon though; after her hasty ‘amen’ Petruchio said ‘no’ and continued the prayer. I noticed he was watching her during this. After the servants had all left, and Petruchio was on the floor with Kate telling her it would be better for them to fast, she tried to undo his trousers but he stopped her. I got the impression he knew their relationship wouldn’t work until Kate accepted him properly, and she was just trying to find some way to connect to him – she just didn’t understand what he wanted.

The next scene, where Tranio and Hortensio swore to leave Bianca forever, was definitely clearer from these seats. Sly popped in a couple of times when the panels were opened, but otherwise it was all Lucentio and Bianca, still going at it hammer and tongs, and drooping, exhausted, out of a window at the end. When they did emerge, I noticed Cambio was holding his satchel over his nether regions at the end of that scene – why? Hadn’t he already got his end away? Mind you, at that age it doesn’t take long…. Hortensio revealed himself by ripping off his moustache – very painful, and as funny as Cambio taking off his glasses to reveal Lucentio.

Grumio brought a chair on for Kate for the food scene. After he left, Kate used a spare bit of rope, which just happened to have a noose at the end, to pretend to have hung herself. She lay on the floor with the noose round her neck and one foot resting on the overturned chair. Hortensio was alarmed when he saw her, and I reckon Petruchio was concerned for a moment, but he checked it out and knew she was fooling straightaway. After this, she tried to throttle him with the rope and he played along, making choking sounds. When she realised he was joking rather than choking, she let him go. It was when she was telling him that she would speak her mind that she got the chair to stand on, so she could make her point face to face.

The model wore a white fur trimmed coat which she took off to reveal the red dress underneath. Was there more being ripped off tonight? Maybe not, but she grabbed the fur coat to cover her embarrassment as she ran off. When they were arguing over what time it was, Kate took a peek at Petruchio’s watch to confirm the time before carrying on their little disagreement.

On the trip to visit Baptista Minola, Grumio dropped a tennis racquet as they came on and a member of the audience had to help retrieve it. Kate had a slightly impatient look on her face at this point. I still couldn’t see any particular reason for her change of approach, but it was still fun to watch. She was carrying a triple candlestick, and brandished this to illustrate the “rush candle” line.

I still couldn’t see what Kate and Petruchio were up to during the party scene. Bianca was a bit drunk in the final scene, and Tranio had a bandage on his nose. Everyone was listening to Kate for once, and she had to think about what to say. She meant it all, although she was talking about Petruchio rather than men in general (this was from the post-show). This time when she threw a chair, nobody minded – that was how she cleared the space to kneel for her final offer. Petruchio knelt down and put his hands on Kate’s feet after she’d knelt down to him, and it was clear he was very much in love with her by this time. At the end, as Kate and Petruchio snuggled under the covers at the back, she held up two fingers to the rest of them – so not a complete transformation then.

I thought the ending might have changed, with some of the rougher characters beating up Sly before the Lord came on with Bartholomew and left the money on his chest. Bartholomew didn’t leave the scarf this time. The performance still ended with Marion Hackett standing on the stage looking at Sly, who had passed out on the stage with the money on his chest, and I still have no clue what it was meant to convey, but as we’d enjoyed ourselves I didn’t waste too much time thinking about it.

The Sly framework was done well enough, but I still felt it held the play back. I was able to see the Lord and Bartholomew at the back a couple of times, but they just disappeared and there was still a gap between the induction story and the main play. The crudity was even more apparent from this angle, with Kate mooning several times, and I noticed tonight how smart Tranio is; he used a classical reference at least once, and his mind was certainly sharper than Lucentio’s (not difficult). Janet Fullerlove, the actress brought in to replace the one with the broken ankle, was up to speed and played both Marion Hackett and the widow tonight and did both very well; we’d seen the understudy for the widow last time.

The combination of our better position and the natural ‘bedding down’ of the performance made for a more enjoyable evening than last time, and this is definitely one of the better productions we’ve seen of this play.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me