Category Archives: Comedy

Visiting Mister Green – February 2008

5/10

By Jeff Baron

Directed by Patrick Garland

Venue: Rose Theatre, Kingston

Date: Thursday 14th February 2008

This was a straightforward odd couple two-hander. The couple in question are Mr Green, an old Jewish guy living at the top of an apartment block, and Ross, the young man who nearly ran him over when he walked out onto the road without looking. Despite Mr Green being entirely to blame, as Ross sees it, Ross is the one doing community service, and a judge has ordered that he spend some time every week helping Mr Green in whatever way he needs help. Mr Green, being old (86?), doesn’t want help; he just wants to waste away now his wife’s dead.  Needless to say, the two get to know, like and respect each other, and Mr Green finally gets in contact with another family member he’d cut out of his life for years.

It’s a good play, well constructed, and I enjoyed this first trip to the Rose Theatre at Kingston. The theatre is pretty rough and ready, with some work still to be done, but the seats were comfortable enough, and the facilities plain but good. The staff were certainly welcoming and helpful, and with an easy train connection we hope to make this a regular stop.

The only down side to this performance was that Warren Mitchell is showing his age, not just acting it. The performances were good, but lacked power, and I feel that more could be got out of both parts with a stronger actor in the title role. That said, it was certainly entertaining, and I’m glad we managed to catch this production on tour.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Brief Encounter – February 2008

8/10

By Noel Coward, adapted by Emma Rice

Directed by Emma Rice

Company: Kneehigh

Venue: The Cinema, Haymarket

Date: Wednesday 13th February 2008

This was definitely the best combination of cinema and theatre I’ve ever seen. The way the two media were blended together created a tremendous experience, and the seats were a lot comfier too. And there were cucumber sandwiches in the intermission!

The story of Brief Encounter is comingled with several Noel Coward songs and poems, performed by the staff at the railway station, a talented bunch who can turn their hands to most things. As well as sporting a magnificent rear end and selling delicious looking cakes, the chief tea lady Tamzin Griffin plays the cello and sings. Her helper, Amanda Lawrence, also sings and dances, and there are contributions by the others as well.

First, the set. The entire width of the stage was used, with plush curtains coming across to screen off the sides occasionally. At other times we could see the scaffolding on each side, with the stairs leading up to the gantry at the back. There was an oven door set into the back wall, the tea shop counter on the left, and some tables and chairs to the right. The back wall was used as a screen, while another screen, made of strips, came down near the front on several occasions, and allowed characters to slip on and off screen – very effective. It was mainly used to show Laura rejoining her husband. The first time, she was obviously reluctant to leave her lover, but later, there was a sense of finality, as she chooses her husband over Alec. When needed, the same chairs and lamp were brought on for a scene with her husband on the stage. Their children were large puppet dolls.

The performance started with the ushers and usherettes lining up on each side of the stage, and serenading us with some lovely harmonies. Then the two lovebirds, who were sitting in the middle of the front row, began having an argument. She got up and walked off, and from there we got all sorts of entertainment, some on stage, some in the auditorium, some filmed, some song and dance. But they kept the focus and the momentum going brilliantly throughout.

They made a lot more of the minor characters, but eventually the love story gets underway, and we’re treated to a couple of outstanding performances by Naomi Frederick and Tristan Sturrock as the two lovers. They give us all the necessary emotional restraint and upper class accents, while at the same time making the passion underneath it all believable. This passion is often represented by having a film of waves crashing on the shore projected on the screen at the back, and playing some sweeping classical music as the characters swoon briefly in their chairs in the tea room. On one occasion this segues nicely into a scene with Laura’s husband, where he asks her to turn the music down.

The interval was an intermission, and there were some lovely adverts shown, all done in the style of the day, and finishing with the cheesy grins which are held for a second or two longer than is natural. Then the cucumber sandwiches arrived, and we both had one – lovely.

In the second half, we get the scene where the lovers’ final parting is ruined by a friend of Laura arriving and taking over the conversation. She’s played here by Amanda Lawrence, who also plays Beryl in the tea-room. She’s wearing an outrageously long feather on her hat – nearly pokes Alec’s eye out – and she has a cheeky wee dog that steals the show. It’s another puppet, or perhaps a mop, but with a massive personality. After the curtain calls, the final piece of music accompanying our exit is Joe Jackson’s Fools in Love – very appropriate.

This is Kneehigh as I like them best – imaginative, inventive, and telling a story well, despite all the apparent distractions. We left the theatre, sorry cinema, or was it a theatre…? Anyway, we left feeling very happy, especially as there’d been a few sniffles to accompany the many laughs.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Much Ado About Nothing – January 2008

9/10

By; William Shakespeare

Directed by: Nicholas Hytner

Venue: Olivier Theatre

Date: Wednesday 30th January 2008

We’d seen such a great Much Ado last summer in the Swan, part of the Complete Works, that I was a bit worried that we wouldn’t appreciate this one fully. I didn’t have too much to worry about, though. While it wasn’t as lively as the RSC production, this performance had some of the best interpretations of the lines I’ve heard, and seen. Some of the business was off the text, but still incredibly funny, and the relationship between Beatrice and Benedick was detailed and moving, as well as bringing out the humour brilliantly.

The set used the revolving box from The Alchemist (Oct 2006), with wooden slatted walls on two sides, and pergolas along them. There were flats with upper windows at various angles behind the box. Furniture was brought on as needed, and with the revolve, the next scene could be set up without distracting us from the current scene – very effective. During the marvellous overhearing scenes, there was a pond in the main area, and it’s put to good use – both Beatrice and Benedick fall in it. Although this set up allowed for greater flow between the scenes, I did feel the pace was a bit slow at times.

The costumes were a mixture, part Jacobethan, part Olde Worlde, as far as I could tell; let’s face it, I’m not an expert in these matters, and that’s probably why I don’t get put off productions that have made unusual costuming decisions. Anyway, I liked them. So there.

There were several of the female cast on stage at the start, nibbling away at fruit and the like, and chatting. Leonato arrives with Beatrice, and joins them. I do like this kind of opening –we have to pay attention for longer to see what’s going to happen. Unfortunately, they work best if the audience cooperates, and this time we had a chatty couple behind who weren’t going to give up their talking time just to allow us all to drink in the atmosphere being so carefully set up for us. (B*$^&@#>.)

Along comes the messenger, giving Leonato a letter, and so out of breath he has to sit down for a bit. They get him some food and water to wash in, etc. Beatrice is sprawled on a chair at the end of the table, and joins in with her bitchy questions from there. It’s a good start, giving us the background, the information that Hero fancies Claudio, and the beginning of a understanding of the relationship between Beatrice and Benedick.

When Don Pedro does arrive, attended by various nobles, the bows and curtseys are quite formal, indicating that Don Pedro, a prince of Arragon, is pretty senior in this society, and not to be trifled with. He, on the other hand, has no concerns about trifling with other people. I was very aware in this production that he seems to be determined to get involved in everyone else’s life, and doesn’t seem to have much of a life of his own. The reactions from Claudio later on, when Don Pedro is spelling out how he’ll woo Hero on Claudio’s behalf, make it quite clear that Claudio isn’t keen on the idea, but doesn’t know how to get this point across to the prince. Likewise, when Beatrice has made it clear that she’s been romantically involved with Benedick before, and it didn’t end happily, the prince suddenly announces he’s going to play a trick on both Beatrice and Benedick to get each to fall in love with other, and all for sport! What a great laugh they’ll all have. It’s a really unpleasant side to the prince’s character, and I’ve never seen it brought out so much before (or I just never spotted it before). Admittedly, Beatrice has just made a faux pas – not only does she reject Don Pedro’s suggestion that she and he could become an item, she possibly triggers the offer by getting a bit frisky, and slapping the prince on the bum! It’s possible he feels hurt (emotionally, that is) and wants some revenge, but I didn’t get that from this performance. On the whole, it came across as the prince just being incredibly insensitive to the feelings of those around him, and this may partially explain why Don John, his brother, doesn’t like him.

Back with the prince’s first entrance (I hope you’ve got a cup of tea, this may take some time), Benedick and Beatrice are soon sniping at each other, while the others drift off towards the back of the stage. That was one of the things I liked about this staging – the set design made it easy for characters to drift in and out of the main playing area, whichever one was facing us at the time, and to wend their way around as the set rotated, making this much less static, and much more interesting. I got the impression that Benedick is fending Beatrice off – he’s had enough of her rough tongue, and wants to avoid her as much as possible. Yet, when he’s trying to talk Claudio out of being in love with Hero, he readily refers to Beatrice in superlative terms. She “exceeds her [Hero] as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December”. Pretty clear what he thinks of Beatrice as a woman, then. And this lays the groundwork nicely for the declaration of love in the church.

After the prince’s arrival, Benedick is quick to mention that he’s bursting to tell him everything – blabber mouth. I loved the delivery of these lines. Simon Russell Beale has such an ability to speak Shakespearean lines as though they made sense, which means they often do, and this was no exception. Along with the other members of the cast, I must add, who all contributed to this intelligent and intelligible production.

This was one of those occasions when the stage revolved to allow the characters to move into another part of the premises. As the men are talking, well, actually, as Benedick is railing against marriage with short contributions from the other two, they move round into the prince’s bedchamber, so he can change his shirt. While he does this, and after Benedick has left, the prince and Claudio discuss Hero, and the prince comes up with his plan to do the wooing for Claudio. Claudio keeps trying to get some words out to express his concern about this, but doesn’t quite manage to say anything. Off they go, and the effect of their conversation will be picked up by others shortly.

Leonato has a short conversation with his brother, Antonio, who informs him that the prince is in love with Hero, and intends to woo her at the dance. It’s exciting news, but this time Leonato restrains himself, and decides to wait and see what happens. He’ll warn Hero though, just in case. Next we see Don John, the sulky one, brooding intently round the back of the set. Conrad, one of his servants, tries to advise him to be more sociable, as he’s only recently been reconciled to his brother, but Don John is determined to be himself, and sulk as much as he wants to. This makes him sound like a stubborn teenager, but Andrew Woodall played him with some gravitas, making me wonder if he was just suffering from depression. Borachio arrives, with the news about the wooing, and this time, it’s the correct version, that the prince intends to woo Hero on behalf of Claudio. The prospect of throwing a very large spanner in the works cheers up Don John enormously – he almost smiled – and off they go to cause mischief. It’s always nice to know where you stand with the villains.

The dance scene begins with the ladies, Leonato and Antonio sitting in the seats at the side of the floor; the other men haven’t yet arrived. Beatrice’s comments on the unsuitability of any man to be her husband are entertaining enough, and her comments about men with no beards are funnier because her uncle, Antonio, is clean-shaven. The bickering continues between different couples as the dancing gets underway, and eventually the set rotates us round to where Beatrice had just been told something about herself by a masked man. Who can it be? The nose of his mask is extraordinarily long, yet the form seems familiar. Zounds, it’s Benedick, but did Beatrice spot him? I should think so, despite her obvious delight in knocking back the wine. Benedick comes off second best, again, and his reactions are clear, despite the disguise.

Now Don John does his evil work with Claudio, deliberately mistaking him for Benedick. Frankly, this is absurd, given their respective shapes, but we mustn’t let that get in the way of an enjoyable bit of theatre. And in any case, Claudio’s sulk doesn’t last long, as eventually Don Pedro tells him that Hero is won. Before that, we and the prince get to hear Benedick ranting at great length about how terrible Beatrice is. Honestly, to listen to him go on and on and on, anyone would think he’s besotted by her. Even though he asks the prince to send him away on some impossible mission as soon as she reappears with her relatives. Mind you, he does dash off almost immediately after that, so he’s clearly still upset at his verbal pasting from Beatrice.

She, on the other hand, has brought Claudio along to be given the good news about Hero, and rightly divines what’s upsetting him. It’s noticeable how little Claudio has to say at this point – everyone on stage notices, never mind the audience. With the RSC production last year I was reminded that actually Hero and Claudio have probably not spoken at all; here it was just a reflection of Claudio’s youth and inexperience. He reminded me of Romeo – all passion and flowery romantic words, but no real understanding of relationships, nor any real trust in Hero, as it turns out. It’s often a concern as to why she’s willing to take him back after his treatment of her, but this production handles that very well. Later. (It’s at this time that Beatrice lets her hand stray too far, and ends up having to deflect the proposal from Don Pedro.)

His first attempt at upsetting everyone having lost its momentum, Don John now picks up Borachio’s offer to delude the prince and Claudio and derail the marriage altogether. It’s not altogether clear why Borachio is doing this. I assume it’s because he supports Don John in mischief. The RSC had Borachio being the only man who actually woos Hero, and who wanted to stop this marriage to give himself a chance again, but here it’s not specified. I also realised for the first time that we never actually see this discovery scene. It’s so well described that I feel I must have seen it, yet it’s only in the words. This makes me realise how important some of these apparently trivial scenes can be.

Now for the water feature. The sunken pool on the terrace comes into its own. Benedick sends one of the household maids to fetch his book, rather than a boy. He then has one of the best soliloquies in Shakespeare – I love the way he disdains marriage, then spends ages spelling out his ideal woman. When the prince, Claudio and Leonato arrive, the slatted walls serve for cover, and Benedick nips behind one, taking his chair with him. At one point, the folding chair decides to fold up, and we have one of those lovely moments when the people on stage have to ignore an obvious giveaway, just so they can carry on with their entrapment. They include the music in this production, and it’s quite enjoyable, though I’ve never figured out why Balthazar is going on about what a bad singer he is. Anyway, it’s pleasant enough, and then the three conspirators get down to business.

This is one of the best scenes in Shakespeare’s comedies, and these actors got full measure out of it. Leonato has tremendous difficulty remembering what to say, unlike the two soldiers, who’re obviously used to practical jokes. Benedick’s reactions are marvellously funny; in fact it’s difficult to know which way to look during this scene. They helped out by having Benedick move around a lot, eventually lurking behind the chair he’d draped his jacket over at the start. I did like they way he sidled up to the thin pillar of the pergola and tried to hide behind it – Wile E. Coyote might have managed it, but cuddly Simon…..

They staged this scene so that the prince and his cohorts wend their way to the back of the stage, only to return for their final lines. Benedick, meanwhile, has come onto the main part of the stage, and begins his lines (I think). When they return, he’s trapped, and ends up diving into the pool to hide – massive splash. This was funny enough, but then, after a long pause, while the others are busy trying not to crack up completely, the top of Benedick’s head appears over the side of the pool. The expression in Simon Russell Beale’s eyes was hilarious. And the idea that the others couldn’t see him was farcical (good farcical, that is). After the others leave, Benedick stays in the pool for a bit, thinking through what he’s just heard, and leaning on the side of the pool as if he were at a spa. When Beatrice comes on to call him in for dinner, he’s out of the pool, and stands there, dripping wet. After her tart summons is over, there’s the wonderful line “‘Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to dinner ,’ there’s a double meaning in that.” Benedick’s euphoria as he grasps this fictitious straw of hope is side-splitting.

And, just so we don’t get bored, the next eavesdropping scene follows on immediately. Will knew when to report a scene, and when to show us it in full. This time it’s Hero and Ursula setting the trap, and sending Margaret off to lure Beatrice into it. This time, the set has been on the turn, and so Beatrice is able to hide better than Benedick. Again, she reacts well to the two women’s chat, even putting her hands through the slats to try and strangle Ursula after some pointed comment. She also thinks about hiding behind a pergola pole at one point, but finds a better opportunity to overhear them. One of the maids is mopping up after the last big splash, and Beatrice borrows her hat, mop and bucket. In their talk, Hero and Ursula have lost sight of Beatrice, and look around for her, eventually spotting the lady herself, despite the amazing disguise. Ursula signals to the “maid” to carry on cleaning up, and when she accidentally knocks her bucket into the pool, indicates she should get it out. This Beatrice attempts to do without giving herself away, and the inevitable happens – another splash! This was even funnier, though we knew it was coming. Hero and Ursula are soon off the stage, and Beatrice heaves herself out pretty quickly – these dresses soak up a lot of water – and heads off to dry herself.

By now, Benedick has not only dried himself, he’s had a shave as well, and the prince, Claudio and Leonato discover him round the other side of the stage. He tries to hide his face, but they soon discover what’s going on and let rip with their jests. Benedick manages to get away with Leonato to discuss a matter of some importance, leaving the coast clear for Don John to plant more evil seeds in men’s minds. And now the interval.

The second half opened with Dogberry and the watch. Dogberry has always been a problem for me. His mangling of the language has rarely come across well, and there’s often a problem with the reactions of the watch members. If they don’t spot that Dogberry’s talking rubbish, it reduces the humour for me. It works much better when Dogberry’s talking to the gentry, although then there’s a risk of patronising attitudes spoiling the fun. All in all, he’s one of the trickier clowns. Here we have Mark Addy taking him on, and he did a respectable job with it. Verges, played by Trevor Peacock, plays an old doddery man, who lines up behind Dogberry whenever they have to bow, leading to an unfortunate alignment of head and bum. Not the worst watch I’ve seen, by any means, and they catch the villains Conrad and Borachio well enough.

Margaret is helping Hero dress for her wedding, and when Beatrice comes on with a stinker of a cold, Margaret ends up being the lively one. Beatrice evidently didn’t get dry quick enough after her swim. Dogberry turns up just as Leonato is putting the finishing touches to his outfit, and so gets sent off to do the interrogation himself. His lines were funny, and his taking of the wine, including a bottle or two for later, was entertaining.

The church scene is a pivotal one, and this staging brought out the ups and downs very well. First, there’s the lovely entrance of the bride, and the groom’s party. It’s all very solemn and full of expectation. Then there’s the shocking accusations against Hero, and everything’s thrown into confusion. Leonato is enraged against his daughter (silly old fool, too keen on the prince, that’s his problem), Hero is amazed, Beatrice is appalled, the prince’s company, except Benedick, are cold, and the friar keeps his cool remarkably well. There are a number of meddling friars in Shakespeare’s works – this one gets away with it. After the prince’s departure, and after Leonato has been calmed down (no easy task), there’s a quieter phase when Beatrice and Benedick get a chance to talk. I was very aware that there’s no time to reflect on the situation during the manic part of the scene, and it’s lovely to have this section when we can really feel the emotions that have been stirred up. I usually relate best to Beatrice’s grief and anger, probably because they’re the main emotions on show, and I feel it’s important to register what a huge disruption this event has caused to everyone. Benedick manages to express his love for Beatrice now she’s no longer sniping at him, and he sounded a bit surprised at saying it, or perhaps he was just surprised how easily it popped out. For all the context and content, it’s lovely to see the two of them talking as human to human, and learning to work together.

Now Dogberry confronts the villains, and confounds them with his incisive wit, his sharp interrogation techniques…. You’re not believing this, are you? OK, it’s the usual scene, with Dogberry most insistent he be “writ down an ass”. His indignation was lovely to see.

Next Leonato and his brother meet up with the prince and Claudio, and nearly come to blows. Antonio even heads off to fetch his massive broadsword, bigger than himself, and waves it around dangerously. The danger is more that he’ll accidentally hit something than that he’ll actually fight with it, and it was nicely humorous. They soon get it off him, and then Benedick arrives with the serious challenge. The change in his manner is noticeable. He delivers the challenge sincerely, and with enough temper to suggest he really does know what he’s doing with a sword. Just when the prince and Claudio thought things couldn’t get any worse, Dogberry and his watch arrive with the prisoners, and all is revealed. Leonato also turns up, with his brother, and after telling Claudio what he has to do to untarnish Hero’s memory (they think she’s died), suggests that Claudio marry his brother’s daughter instead, “almost the copy of my child that’s dead”. Pity he didn’t warn his brother about this – he nearly spoils the plan by his reactions.

As they all leave, and the set rotates, we see Margaret has been listening in, at least to the last part of this scene, and so realises that Borachio has been arrested, and that she’s probably played a part in getting Hero falsely accused. She’s quick to recover her wits, though, as Benedick asks her to fetch Beatrice to him. He ruminates about love, letting us know he’s not very good at poetry, and then when Beatrice comes they have one of their usual sparring matches, though without the bitterness that was present before.

For the tomb scene, Claudio actually lies on the tomb (hints of necrophilia there, I feel), and as he’s singing his hymn, we see Hero being brought on to watch by her father, from behind the partition. She takes a good long look at Claudio, and then nods to her father, indicating she’s willing to marry him. This was a good piece of staging, as it lets us see that she’s made her own choice, very important after what’s happened.

For the final scene, the ladies all enter with veils, and Claudio resigns himself to marrying some young woman, then has all the joy of finding Hero returned (yes, of course I cried). When Benedick asks the friar to add him and Beatrice to the wedding plans, he puts his hands over his face for a moment before coming out with the dreaded words “honourable marriage”. The poems turn up, and she grabs hers and eats it before he can read it, then reads his, giving a really evil cackle at his pathetic attempts at rhyme. It’s a lovely happy ending, and we applauded for a long time. For all its problems, this is a hugely enjoyable play, and this was one of the best productions I’ve seen of it.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

A Trip To Scarborough – January 2008

8/10

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

Directed by Alan Ayckbourn

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 28th January 2008

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Present Laughter – January 2008

8/10

By: Noel Coward

Directed by: Howard Davies

Venue: Lyttelton Theatre

Date: Tuesday 22nd January 2008

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

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

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

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Legal Fictions – January 2008

5/10

By: John Mortimer

Directed by: Christopher Morahan

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 14th January 2008

I confess I snoozed through some of the first part of this double bill, probably because I was still recovering from the cold/cough that has crippled me for several weeks, and partly because it’s a very static piece, set in a prison cell, with some lovely surreal dialogue, true, but not as dynamic as I needed at that time. The Dock Brief concerned a lawyer finally given his chance to shine by defending a clearly guilty man, and failing miserably. It’s very witty, unravels beautifully, and was well done by both Edward Fox and Nicholas Woodeson. At times the piece seemed Pinterish, though the lawyer’s wordiness is something Pinter would be unlikely to do. I particularly liked the twist at the end, when the lawyer’s defence was so bad that the defendant was considered not to have had a fair trial, and so gets let off. The set also had a touch of the surreal, with steeply sloping walls giving an exaggerated perspective.

The second piece, Edwin, found me wide awake throughout. A trio of older folk, a husband and wife and their neighbour, go through what seems to be a regular bickering routine. The husband is a retired High Court judge, and he spends most of his time addressing us, as if we were a jury, over one particular case – did his neighbour have sex with his wife? As the play unfolds, we get some entertaining bouts of wordplay, and the final hint by the wife that someone else altogether might be involved left the two men completely disconcerted. It was also interesting to see the different memories they all had of the son – artistic, mathematical etc. – especially as he had changed so much from all their memories.

I enjoyed this evening quite a lot, mainly because it was my first trip to the theatre that hadn’t been taken up with coughing. Thank God.

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Woman Hater – January 2008

8/10

By: Frances Burney

Directed by: Sam Walters

Venue: Orange Tree Theatre

Date: Thursday 3rd January 2008

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2008 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Rainer Hersch’s Victor Borge – November 2007

8/10

By: Rainer Hersch

Venue: Mill Studio

Date: Thursday 15th November 2007

I had a weird sense of dissociation early on during this performance. I knew we were watching Rainer Hersch giving us his impression of Victor Borge, but my reactions were as if the original was standing there. I felt all the warmth and affection I’d stored up from childhood, seeing him on TV and knowing the routines. It was a good start, and it got even better.

After an opening section giving us some of Borge’s classic patter – e.g. the joke about the piano being made in China, and an ordinary keyboard having the keys going from left to right (we filled in the rest ourselves) – Rainer told us about his own background (not Jewish, not gay, hair not permed, as he said to his partner Lionel, the hairdresser from Tel Aviv), and explained how he hadn’t heard of Victor Borge while he was growing up. Once he started doing stand up and brought music into it, a process that took a number of years, he found his reviews kept comparing him to some chap called Victor Borge, and in a search for a publicist so successful that he could get his own client’s name into another performer’s reviews, he finally came across a CD of Borge’s work and the rest is history, as they say. He didn’t actually say what his reaction to hearing Borge’s work was, but I assume it was positive, as it eventually led him to research Borge’s life, and even to meet him briefly, backstage, in Denmark – he showed us the picture.

From here he took us on a trip through Borge’s life story, annotated with various snippets of his comedy routines, and including some very moving events, such as Borge’s trip back into Nazi-occupied Denmark to see his dying mother for the last time. He managed the emotional changes very well, and I was crying more often from laughter than from sadness. Hersch’s own talents as a comedian and musician were very clear. He also managed the accent and mannerisms very well, and was ably supported by a good technical crew, who brought in the music and changed the lights perfectly. At the end, he encouraged us to beg for more, then gave us one of his own routines about what they’re actually singing at the opera – definitely called for one of those discrete little pads! This evening lifted our spirits, and reminded us of a great entertainer, as well as making us aware of a new talent.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

There’s No Place Like A Home – November 2011

5/10

By: Paul Elliot

Directed by: Chris Colby

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Tuesday 13th November 2007

This was as minimal a 5/10 performance as I can go, but as there were some laughs, it was at the Connaught, and it was for charity, I’m happier being kind. I did wonder if my watch had stopped a few times, but we got there in the end.

The plot concerned a bunch of elderly actors and entertainers in a rest home specifically run for this group of semi-retired performers (they want to work, no one wants them). Due to some spurious financial losses their home is about to be sold, and they hit on a plan to kidnap a famous person, demand a ransom, and then use the loot to buy the home. Jeffrey Archer is the celebrity chosen, and he ends up cooperating, as he’s realised what’s going on (no appearance from the famous man, thank goodness). Despite a visit from a retiring detective inspector, the gang get away with their scheme, and all ends happily. Their home is bought by another theatrical charity (the one raising money tonight), and they can all stay. The ransom money is being returned, and one of their number gets an unexpected windfall which he’s happy to share with the others. Ah.

Despite having more holes than a large sieve, this plot trundled along well enough for the most part, with decent performances from the various actors. Most of them were old troupers themselves, and there were a few references to past triumphs, such as Gordon Kaye’s use of “you silly woman” coupled with a picture on a back wall that looked remarkably like the Fallen Madonna With The Big Boobies we all know and love so well. Don Maclean played an ageing singer who decides to take up ventriloquism, which used to be a staple of his act, and there were no doubt other references I wasn’t aware of. A lot of the writing could do with a serious rework, but there were some good lines, and I did enjoy the appearance of the kidnappers in disguise – Tony Blair, Prince Charles, Margaret Thatcher and Elvis Presley, as well as a dwarf in a Santa suit. All in all, it was a bearable evening with some good moments.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Romantic Comedy – November 2007

6/10

By: Bernard Slade

Directed by: Tom Conti

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 12th November 2007

We enjoyed revisiting this play, which we first saw years ago, also with Tom Conti. I don’t remember a lot of details – the set seemed more spread out, and less obviously an apartment with a view, as it was tonight, but I found the story coming back to me as we watched.

The story is of a comedy writer (Conti) who enters into two partnerships on the same day – the first with a new writing collaborator, a young woman who’s got a huge crush on him, and the second to a wife, who ends up leaving him as he’s not really the marrying sort. The play is all about the writers’ relationship, and their failure to turn it into a romantic attachment as well as a professional one.

There are still a lot of funny lines, and the cast did very well with them. I liked Kate Atkinson as Phoebe Craddock. She got across all her character’s innocence and awkwardness, as well as showing her development through the play. She was a very focused presence throughout. I also adore Eleanor David (the agent) as an actress – she’s so smooth and elegant, and delivers her lines effortlessly while looking rapturously beautiful.

There was a presentation at the end of the performance. The local paper had run a competition, and Tom Conti presented the lucky winner with a bouquet of flowers, lucky lady, and after a few piccies and some more applause, we were off. Good fun, though it’s showing its age a bit.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me