Category Archives: Comedy

A Midsummer Night’s Dream – May 2007

10/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Tim Supple

Company: DASH Arts

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Friday 11th May 2007

This is the second time we’ve seen this production, and it hasn’t lost anything in all those months. In fact, it’s improved – ten star plus! As I’ve gone over most of the staging in the first set of notes (see RSC Complete Works), I’ll just cover the changes here.

The early stages were as before. I remembered how Ajay starts off as Philostrate, with his long robe. The singing stone was just as magical, and the action much the same, and just as enjoyable. The first change I noticed was the mechanicals. The clattering pots and pans didn’t seem so loud, and the actors seemed to have developed their parts more. I suspect that comedy in particular needs the experience of an audience to grow and develop, and from the look of things, this group has taken full advantage of all the performances to learn as much as possible.

The fight between Titania and Oberon had changed slightly – it wasn’t quite so fierce. The sexual action between the lovers had really hotted up, however, and it was clear that both the men and the women this time were feeling the full force of rampant hormones, as the women started to respond sexually, even to the men they didn’t want.

When Oberon describes the effect of the flower he sends Puck to pick, he demonstrates the eye-smearing method, and Puck is so affected by just this display, that he’s extremely taken with a pretty blonde lady in the front row, but Oberon snatches him back before things get out of hand.

The rehearsal scene seemed to have even more interaction with the fairies. Bottom’s gourd was still there, and I was pleased to see the production promoting safe sex – when he reappears later with Titania, there’s a bright red condom on the end of it. The fairies’ reaction to him seems to be clearer as well – Titania might be in love, but they’re not at all keen, especially when he wants them to scratch him. Yuck!

The reconciliation between Titania and Oberon gives rise to a beautiful dance, which I don’t remember happening before, or at least not to this extent. It’s just after this that the couple change back into Theseus and Hippolyta. The elastic rope that tangles the lovers seemed to be less than before, and knowing what was going on I was able to concentrate more on the lovers this time, and I enjoyed the whole scene much better. Oberon’s pursuit of Puck through the tangle was also good fun. He was giving him a real ticking off, and Puck just didn’t want to let him get too close. He may have looked a bit downcast at times, but still, he was obviously enjoying every minute of the mischief.

Thisbe seemed to be even more disinclined to play a woman during the rehearsal, but changed her mind when it came to the performance in front of the Duke. All the animals and set design parts were doing more, it seemed. I particularly felt for Moonshine, ridiculed by the aristocrats. His dog, though, was a lovely touch – as he’s played by the tailor, his dog is an adapted sewing machine (an idea from the actor himself). One nice aspect that I didn’t notice before was that Egeus shows his acceptance of the situation at the end by hugging his daughter.

I was aware this time of the dangers of the forest, not that it wasn’t there before, but tonight it was heightened. I also saw the playlet at the end not only as a treat for the audience, but as a kind of healing therapy for the lovers. They, too, had been through a trial, facing dangers in an attempt to find their loved one despite parental opposition. Here was an even more comic version of their story, to take the sting out of their experience, and to give them a chance to laugh, not only at their mischance, but also at themselves. And this includes Theseus and Hippolyta, as they’ve been fighting, and have only just come to an understanding.

I noticed that the list of possible performances was handed to Hippolyta to read out – presumably because she would find it easier to give the English version. I also felt that perhaps the cast are themselves more comfortable with the different languages, as they gain in experience, and receive such a great response from a wide range of audiences.

Post-show. It covered some of the same ground as before, naturally, but I noticed there was less need for translation, so I assume all of the cast have become reasonably comfortable with English, enough to get the gist of what was said.

The set design arose from practical considerations, plus ideas Tim and the designer had worked on before rehearsals, but they were open to new ideas all the time, and the red earth and wooden grid at the back just materialised during rehearsals, so they went with it.  There is a strong tradition in Indian theatre for quick changes on stage – just a turn or slip behind a screen, and immediately the new character is there, or the same character is somewhere else. (I asked about this in relation to Titania and Oberon changing back to Hippolyta and Theseus on stage.) I also asked Tim as we were leaving if he was doing any more cross-cultural projects, and he is, one using actors from Africa and around the Mediterranean (?), and the other with a huge mixture of Asian, South American and others. I shall look forward to seeing those.

When someone asked if the actors ever get nervous climbing the ladders and ropes, there was a long pause, then Joy Fernandes said he didn’t – big laugh, as he’s the only one who doesn’t go clambering over the set.

Someone asked if the amount of sexuality and physical contact on display had caused problems in India, where there appear to be more concerns about showing these things publicly. There was a pause, and then Joy pointed out that they had come up with the Kama Sutra, so presumably Indians knew sex existed. Apparently there was one place where some people reacted negatively about the sexuality, but mostly, everyone in India enjoyed it immensely. In Calcutta (I think), the audience sat very quietly during the performance, and Tim thought they’d absolutely bombed, but then the applause at the end was very enthusiastic, so obviously in that place they have a tradition of not making much noise during a performance. He also reckoned there’d been as much difference between reactions in India, as between India and England.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Office Suite – May 2007

6/10

By: Alan Bennett

Directed by: Edward Kemp

Venue: Minerva Theatre

Date: Wednesday 9th May 2007

I enjoyed this production, though not as much as I’d hoped. This was partly because I led with my chin (had too high expectations) and partly because I lived and worked through many of the changes depicted in the two plays, so some of it felt a little too close for comfort.

The first of the two plays was A Visit From Miss Prothero, originally written for Patricia Routledge, and starring the lady herself. (Both plays were written for her, actually.) It concerns a retired manager from an unspecified works, who receives a visit from one of his former assistants. He’s largely forgotten about the place, filling in his time with evening classes and a budgie. She wants to gossip about the office, as it seems to be her only life, and she finally gets him hooked in by telling him how things have changed.

It’s almost Pinterish at this point. The sense of a power struggle reaches a climax, and she wins – reminiscent of The Dumb Waiter, for example. I could relate to so much of this, having seen so many people reluctant to change when computer systems were introduced. I felt Patricia Routledge was more domineering than I’d seen before in this part. She was obviously the critical type, and this brought out the humour. Edward Petherbridge as the manager was pretty unassuming, and changed to become quite worked up as he realised his life’s achievement was not only being discarded, but surpassed by his successor! All very nicely done.

The set was typical 70s, and because the play is set in such a specific time period it didn’t seem dated as such.

Green Forms was the second play, and in this one, Patricia Routledge plays the “nicer” of the two ladies who while away their time in the office by chatting, reading the paper, having cups of tea and finding the occasional minute or two to do some work. There’s a long-running feud with Personnel over stolen wash basin plugs, and a sudden influx of requisition forms, for various items. Gradually it dawns on these two shirkers that someone will be joining them in their office, at the spare desk, and they discover, to their horror, that the lady in question’s arrival has presaged the closure of various departments around the country. The first green form that they dismissed as irrelevant was in fact to let them know she’d be coming. The play ends with her about to enter the room, so we never get to see what havoc she wreaks in this particular department.

Janet Dale was very good as the office sniper, constantly complaining about everything (she does have to look after an invalid mother, which does take it out of people). Patricia Routledge’s character is the office junior, who has better networking skills, and who manages to find out who the mystery requisitioner is. Edward Petherbridge is the messenger, who manages to keep up a running conversation with his assistant all through delivering the mail, entirely about union representation. And the office itself is one of those tatty, run-down affairs, with dodgy Venetian blinds (apparently a chopped off piece of Venetian blind will help you get into a locked drawer), missing light bulbs, broken light shades and window panes, and a  missing wash basin plug.

Good fun all round, and again a bit Pinterish, with some of that sense of being cut off from everyone else in the universe.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Art – May 2007

6/10

By: Yasmina Reza, translated by Christopher Hampton

Directed by: Bruce James

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Tuesday 8th May 2007

It was good to see a production of this play that didn’t have such well-known names. Neither Steve nor I had seen these actors before, so there was no baggage to contend with, and it was interesting to find different aspects of the relationships come forward. Yvan, the peacemaker, was very well rounded, which gave a fresh perspective to lines about him losing weight, and his comment about being a lightweight…. spiritually became a lot funnier.

The set was as usual, and otherwise the play was the same, but I got more of a sense of the relationships, and how the characters felt. I don’t remember this from previous productions, but when the characters did their little monologues, they were spotlit. A very good production.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Twelfth Night – May 2007

3/10

By: William Shakespeare

Directed by: Edward Hall

Company: Propeller

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Tuesday 1st May 2007

I’ve enjoyed Propeller’s work before and I was hoping the Taming of the Shrew in the Complete Works was a one-off, but with this paired production I’m not so sure. Both productions demonstrated a lack of female perspective – these men can portray women’s outsides, but not their insides.

With both of these plays the ensemble seemed to have taken them too seriously, a definite problem with comedies. I’m not keen on the gross stuff, true – having Sir Toby actually throw up on stage was never likely to appeal to me. And while the dangling loo roll trick was great in The Nerd, it just looked tacky here. It’s as if they couldn’t really get inside the characters well enough, and so had to do more externally to get the ideas in the text across. Why not just try acting?

The set was naturally the same as the Taming one, though used differently. Here the wardrobes and chairs were all thrown about, liked the aftermath of some heavy-duty party – appropriate for Twelfth Night. It suggested dissipation, anarchy, and the neglect caused by grief, all themes in the play. The furniture was mostly covered over with dust covers, gradually removed, again suggesting disuse.

The costumes were mainly suits, with Olivia having some fetching sparkly evening dresses after her mourning phase. Maria was in drab black throughout, and Viola had only a short scene in her nightie before opting for the grey suit which her brother also wore. (These were the best matched pair of twins I’ve seen, by the way.) Feste stood out in this company, in more than one respect. He was in a suit, but it was pretty scruffy, with his tie dangling and a general air of carelessness. He carried a violin and looked like he’d just come from an all-night fiddler’s convention. He was the only character who didn’t wear a mask at any time – all the other actors wore them when they were present but not actually in the scene, like ghosts. This gave Feste the appearance of being in control of the proceedings, the Lord of Misrule. He was certainly more involved than some other Festes we’ve seen.

Speaking of the masks, the second scene – the shipwreck – had a lot of the cast on stage, throwing Viola and Sebastian around, then dropping her down near the front of the stage for the lines with the sea captain. With their suits and grey masks, the others looked like ghosts, and they faded away into the background (and wardrobes) as if melting into air. This was a wonderfully evocative staging, reminding me of all the dead people being mourned at the start of the play, and all the others lost in the shipwreck.

For the opening scene, Feste took a sheet off Orsino – he’d been sitting in a chair, completely covered, all the time the auditorium was filling up. I liked this Orsino – he looked pretty rough, he’d been drinking and he was obviously suffering. The music was good, too. At the post-show discussion, we learned that many of the cast just happened to be talented musicians as well, so there was more of an emphasis on music this time.

Olivia was more flighty than I’ve seen before, even camp at times. Sir Toby was a ruffian, very drunk and unpleasant, but I didn’t get his craftiness and villainy in rooking Sir Andrew so much this time. Sir Andrew wasn’t the usual lanky suspect, and he was one character whose normal comedy seemed to get lost. I’ve no objection to overturning conventions, but I do like them to be overturned to a purpose; not so here, unfortunately. Malvolio was excellent, all brooding pomposity and menace in the early stages, through to rampant lunacy and eventual anger. Bob Barrett was in the Nicholas Nicklebys last year, mainly playing affable chaps – he’s shown he can do a lot more in this show. The yellow stockings were indeed cross-gartered, as we saw when he whipped off his trousers. The leather codpiece lent a raunchy air to the whole outfit – no wonder Olivia fled.

Maria was a bit underplayed, I felt. Viola was OK – Tam Williams has had plenty of practice playing women, and has enough of the female in his looks to convey the part well, but even here I felt a lack of emotional depth. The line I love best in Twelfth Night – “What should I do in Illyria? ….” – left me unmoved, and I rarely got any real sense of grief. Even the comedy lines after Malvolio ‘returns’ the ring were largely lost. Everything seemed to go at too fast a pace for any of the characters to register what’s going on inside of them – not a lack I’ve noticed in the text itself!

Sebastian was stronger here, and that’s often the advantage of a true ensemble – these are not treated as such minor parts. The final revelations still had me sniffling, although the sense of everything piling up against Viola/Cesario wasn’t so clear here as in the Russian Twelfth Night (RSC Complete Works). Feste was definitely the strongest character in this production, and although he was generally laid back, he could join in the revenge against Malvolio quite happily.

The set piece with the letter had its good bits, and its no-so-good bits. Overall, I liked that Olivia was posed on a plinth and actually holding the letter. The idea of this lady having a statue of herself in her garden was appealing, and the line “this is her hand” took on an extra meaning. Also, when Malvolio took the letter, after having it practically thrust under his nose, the empty hand happened to have two fingers sticking up at him.

Sir Toby and the others (no Fabian in this version) were hiding behind cones of topiary of varying sizes, but none large enough to really conceal anybody. Other cast members were posing as statues of the three wise monkeys, but frequently changed position as well as interacting with the characters on stage; this led to one entertaining moment when the “speak no evil” statue had his hands clamped over Sir Toby’s mouth. All pretty entertaining, but it still felt overdone. Too much work for not enough return, and not enough attention to delivering the text.

All in all, I would give this production 2/10 for the first half, and 3/10 for the second. As the productions are shaped to a considerable extent by the actors in the company, it may be that this group just do things in a way I don’t appreciate. I’d certainly be willing to see a Propeller production again in the hope that changes to the ensemble may lead to an approach I find more pleasing.

Nearly forgot – how could I? – male nudity alert. Sebastian and Olivia had obviously got to know each other really well. Sebastian got out of bed with a sheet wrapped round him, and just as she entered with the priest he dropped the sheet to reveal all (sadly, not to us). Good fun, and a nice arse.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

 

Charley’s Aunt – April 2007

8/10

By: Brandon Thomas

Directed by: Mel Smith

Venue: Theare Royal, Brighton

Date: Monday 30th April 2007

This was our first chance to see Stephen Tompkinson dressed in a frock (apart from his priest days, of course). It was great fun, and interesting to see how well the piece still worked. At least, most of it did – the “where the nuts come from” was treated as an old chestnut from the word go, and the whole cast braced themselves very entertainingly each time one hove into view.

The set and costumes were all excellent. With three acts, and completely different settings for each one, the set itself had to be very adaptable. Even so, the changes took a little longer than expected, judging by the slight extensions to each interval. Not a problem, though, and the results were well worth it. The chaps looked average, the women elegant, and the first Charley’s aunt suitably grotesque.

I’d forgotten the plot (we last saw this back in 1987?), but it didn’t take long to pick it up. Mel Smith’s direction is always excellent; he’s good with the physical stuff as well as the gags, and the pace never let up. The cast seemed to be enjoying themselves too, and Stephen Tompkinson must be keeping well fit, throwing himself around as he does.

All the performances were good. I particularly liked the real aunt, played by Marty Cruickshank, as she had a good sense of humour which adds to the fun – she’s only too happy to wind up her impersonator with stories of the dead husband. I found myself wondering whether this play was written before or after The Importance Of Being Earnest, as they’re so similar in format.

Regardless of that, the whole production was very enjoyable, and we had a great evening.

P.S.    Having read a newspaper review, I’m reminded that Stephen Tompkinson did a great job of showing the softer side of his character, in a scene where the woman he loves dearly, and to whose father he deliberately lost all of his money, reveals her love for him, not knowing that she’s speaking directly to the man she loves. His real discomfort at having to hear this desired yet unwanted confession was very moving, and all the more commendable coming in the midst of a lot of funny business, such as the cigar smoking, and setting light to the furniture.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Dying For It – April 2007

8/10

Freely adapted by Moira Buffini from Nikolai Erdman’s The Suicide

Directed by: Anna Mackmin

Venue: Almeida Theatre

Date: Saturday 21st April 2007

The subject of this play is suicide, and the original is by a Russian, so naturally I expected a lot of laughs. I wasn’t disappointed.

Semyon Semyonovich Podseklanikov is a young Russian man, living with his wife (Masha) and mother-in-law (Serafima), in an alcove off the stairwell of a crumbling old building in Stalin’s Russia. His wife has a job and keeps them all, his mother-in-law grumbles for Russia when she isn’t telling the most embarrassingly unpleasant jokes, and poor Semyon is in despair at his own uselessness. As a result, he’s unpleasant to everyone, but especially to his wife, who’s the only one putting food on the table.

The play opens in the dark, with Semyon waking his wife up in the middle of the night to ask for some food, in this case, black pudding. He didn’t eat any at dinner because he felt she was only feeding him to make him feel bad about not earning any money (total nut case), so now he’s hungry. She finally gets up to get him the black pudding, and when it arrives, he throws a hissy fit, blowing out the candles. Along comes mother, woken by the din, with one of the best entrance lines I’ve heard in a long time – “Now, you know I don’t like to intrude…” – which tells us all we need to know about her interfering ways.

Semyon disappears under cover of darkness, and his wife panics, thinking he’s going to kill himself. She wakes up a neighbour (Alexander), who’s got a fancy woman with him (Margarita), and asks him to help her get her husband out of the bathroom – they think he’s locked himself in. In fact, it’s another neighbour from upstairs, Yegor, a postman, the complaining sort who’s got a People’s Medal for Speed and Diligence. Eventually, we see Semyon’s hand appear from under the bed to take the black pudding off the plate – so he’s not so daft after all!

A chat between Semyon and Alexander leads Semyon to the ridiculous assertion that if he could only get hold of a tuba, he’d be fine. He’s found a teach-yourself book under the bed, for the tuba, and fantasises that in a few easy steps, he’ll be giving tuba concerts and raking it in. Fortunately, Margarita owns a coffee shop, and is involved with a female jazz band, Party approved, so she can lay her hands on a tuba at short notice. With the mother-in-law promising to come and clean the gents’ toilets at the club, Semyon gets his tuba.

It’s a little harder than he imagined getting a sound out of it. Fortunately, the author of the book, who wastes no opportunity to promote himself, has given a handy tip on how to blow into the mouthpiece, involving taking a piece from yesterday’s newspaper, putting it on your tongue, and spitting it out. Strange as it may seem, this works, and soon the powerful sound of a tuba is wafting up the stairwell, much to the annoyance of Yegor, who seems to be permanently hovering about. Unfortunately, the tuba master hasn’t covered scales so well, and suggests the eager student should buy a piano and practice on that, transferring the scale to the tuba afterwards. At this point, Semyon realises he’s been had, and throws a tantrum.

He decides he’s going to kill himself, and that’s when things start to go crazy. As word of his plan gets out, all sorts of people turn up to persuade him to use his suicide to make a statement, blaming some group or other in his suicide note. First, there’s an intellectual, wanting him to blame the government. Then an aesthetic vamp turns up – sort of New Age flapper – wanting him to kill himself for love of her beauty, a truly noble cause, in her mind anyway. If he could at least have got a night of sex from her beforehand, it might have been worth it, but she’s the unavailable type, all romance and keeping her legs together. Name of Cleopatra, or Kiki.

Then the priest turns up, and tries to dissuade him from killing himself by spelling out all the horrible tortures he will go through in hell, as God “has no forgiveness for those who despair”. As Semyon doesn’t believe in God, however, he’s not concerned; he sees Hell as being better than what he’s currently got! After this failure, the priest gives up, but as he’s waiting for his tea and biscuit (the main reason why he’s there), he suddenly thinks of an idea. Perhaps Semyon could express his Godlessness in his suicide note, and the priest can use it as propaganda to promote church-going.

When all this excitement has died down, and even Margarita can’t persuade him to call it off, she decides the least they can do for him is to throw a party. A sending-off do. Everyone turns up, including the poet who broke Cleopatra’s heart by rejecting her, and who takes down Semyon’s last words. They’re not bad, actually, and then he heads off into the dark night with his gun, while they all wait, in differing moods. There’s a long wait, then, finally, a distant gunshot. It’s over.

The next act shows us a body lying in the bed, completely covered. Masha comes back – she’d left him the afternoon before – thinking he’s just asleep, but when she throws back the blanket, it’s her mother lying there asleep. She tells Masha the bad news – that Semyon has shot himself, and the rest of them are out searching for the body. Masha is distraught. She didn’t think he would do it, and now she’s lost the man who meant everything to her.

The body is brought in and laid on the bed. There’s a nasty wound on his right temple. The mourners turn up – all the people from last night’s party, plus a photographer and his assistant. The last words have been prepared for printing, slightly revised, and a fancy coffin turns up. A collection is made (Serafima’s quick to pocket the money) and even Cleopatra offers to get the wife and mother-in-law new hats so they won’t look too hideous at the funeral. Unfortunately, we’ve found out that Semyon isn’t actually dead. He was so drunk he couldn’t shoot straight, and missed, knocking himself unconscious in the process. He’d been sleeping it off outside, and so his body was pretty cold when they found it. Naturally, they assumed he was dead. Difficulty is, everyone else wants a dead man to show off to the masses, and he’s not only not dead, he’s actually got over the suicide thing and wants to live. Oops!

As the onlookers are coming up the stairs, he ends up hiding by jumping in the coffin, and playing dead. Serafima is only too happy to play along (this is where she grabs the collection money), but Masha is desperately trying to tell everyone that Semyon is still alive, which means everyone thinks she’s crazy, and in denial about her husband’s death. Eventually, Semyon comes back to life, and the situation is resolved by simply closing the coffin up, and claiming they can’t show the face as it was destroyed in the act of suicide. The crowd outside won’t know the difference, and too many people have too much to lose by telling the truth.

As Semyon and his friends are celebrating his new life, Alexander goes up to invite Yegor down to join them in a drink. When he comes back, it’s to tell them that Yegor has hung himself. He’s left a note, simply saying “Semyon is right. Why live?” And that’s the end of the play.

Whew, that’s a lot of action to fit in, and yet this brief description of the plot doesn’t actually tell the whole story, nor does it get across the vast amount of humour and perceptive writing there is in this play. The set was suitably drab. Everything was grey and decaying. A stove on the left had a flue pipe running up then across to a window on the right. The pipe had simply been put through the glass, and wadding put round the gaps in the broken pane to keep out the draughts. The spiral staircase was wide and grand, but had been shored up in several places with metal poles. A curtain was all that separated this alcove from the stair, and for most of the performance it was drawn back, allowing us to see all that went on. Alexander’s room was on the floor above, and the stairway continued on upwards, to Yegor’s apartment, and possibly beyond. Serafima’s room was to the left, while the kitchen was downstairs. People also came and went via the lower window.

The performances were all superb. Tom Brooke played Semyon, and reminded me at times of Robert Englund in Babylon 5. He was scrawny, unkempt, but with the light of passion and despair in his eyes. His initial bitching in the dark with his wife was a great start to the play, and his initial delight at learning to play the tuba set us up beautifully for his anger and despair at discovering it wasn’t so easy after all. This is a man who is easily disappointed with life, but then there doesn’t seem to be much to be happy about either, apart from his wife.

Masha, played by Liz White (from Life On Mars), really wanted to have a husband to be proud of. One minute she’s snapping at him for waking her up and complaining about her earnings, the next she’s sitting, looking adoringly at him as he tries to master the tuba. She was genuinely horrified when she thinks Semyon’s dead, and fiercely protective when Cleopatra’s around. (Semyon passes her off as the cook, just in case Cleo fancies coming across). She even goes for Cleo over the coffin, while Semyon is playing dead – learnt a thing or two from Gene Hunt, obviously.

Serafima is a wonderful mother-in-law type. Wonderfully entertaining, that is. Her attempts to cheer Semyon up include a funny story about how they teased a poor foreigner who had the shakes, particularly with his head. He was starving, and they offered him food, but kept taking it away because his head was shaking like he was saying “no”. How she laughed. He didn’t seem to enjoy it much though, ungrateful sod! Still, she had the savvy to keep the money, and the nice new hat Cleopatra had brought her, so she’s got some sense.

Barnaby Kay played Alexander, and I didn’t recognise him at first behind a big bushy beard. He’s a large character, with a large appetite for life, and he makes good use of the demand for Semyon’s services as a suicide – he takes money for passing on individual requests. Some of the money he passes on to Semyon, after taking a large cut, of course. Margarita was played by Sophie Stanton. She’s not just a wanton woman, she’s got a good business head and a heart of gold, but not a scrap of sentimentality. When the crowd are getting nasty over not having a dead body, she’s the one who persuades them to accept an empty coffin by threatening to dump a nasty bucket of shit over anyone who disagrees. Good negotiating skills. (Actually, the bucket only has water in it, so she’s good at bluffing as well.)

The other supporting roles were beautifully done, and the whole ensemble worked very well together. The final revelation, of Yegor’s suicide, changes the atmosphere completely. It’s a shock, but it doesn’t eradicate the enjoyment of the previous couple of hours; it simply gives us a lot to think about.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Man Of Mode – April 2007

9/10

By: George Etherege

Directed by: Nicholas Hytner

Venue: Olivier Theatre

Date: Thursday 19th April 2007

I almost didn’t go to this performance today, as I wasn’t feeling so good when I got up. But a spot of breakfast got my system going, and I realised I wanted to see this production, so off we went. It was a good choice: this is one of the best productions of a Restoration piece that I’ve seen.

The style was totally up-to-date, high-tech, and very flashy. Messages were sent via text and email, and instead of the Mall or the park, we see the characters promenading in a modern art gallery. Between scenes, to cover the set changes, there were extra cast members, often dancers, entertaining us with some sort of mime activity – people meeting in the street, posing for photographers, and when it came to the art gallery, dancing like a piece of performance art sculpture – very funny. We both thought this sort of thing might become tedious, but they fitted it to the action of the play, and varied it so well that it worked brilliantly, and added to our enjoyment.

The opening scene had a short prologue added, whereby Dorimant, freshly risen, is waited on by a couple of glamour models and a photographer with his crew. He’s wearing a long periwig, a mask, and leather trousers, and poses with the models as for a celebrity photo shoot, stripping off as he goes. Nice body – shame about the tattoos. It’s only at the end of this photo shoot, as he’s giving one of the models his number, that the play proper gets going. His servant informs him that the flower-seller has arrived (changed from orange-seller in the play). She’s brought him a fresh display for his flat – red tulips to replace the roses (from yesterday, presumably) – and offers him information about a young heiress who’s come to town with her mother, and who was seen eyeing him up the previous day. We then get more information from Medley, his friend, and the many strands of the piece start to unfold (or should that be unweave?). Dorimant is tired of Loveit (he sends her a billet doux from his laptop), is in love with Bellinda and plans to bed her that night, having first sent her off to Loveit to fuel her jealousy, as he’s fond of creating a row to enable him to flounce out as if the other was in the wrong. He also plans to meet this new heiress, and see if he fancies her. Meanwhile, he’s been helping a young man, Bellair, who’s in love with Emilia but is worried his father won’t allow them to marry. They arrange to meet at Mrs Townley’s, here converted to a fashionable club, where a lot of the action takes place. Complicated, isn’t it?

There’s an extra complication in that Bellair’s father, Old Bellair, has taken to Emilia himself. Although he criticises her in public, he flirts dreadfully with her in private, lecherous old bugger. Once all these strands are introduced, we can relax and get on with the fun of seeing the plots develop. Needless to say, it all ends happily, for the most part.

Loveit’s place is a fashionable underwear boutique (if they’re still called that), where her assistant gets some of the best business and lines. Bellinda’s arrival goads Loveit into reaching below the counter for a ready supply of white wine, which leads her assistant to tap her watch, pointing out how early it is. Loveit goes for the wine on at least one other occasion, notably to give her time to replace her stocking after Dorimant’s interrupted attempt to give her a good tongue-lashing (of the sexual variety). As I recall, it was during this re-seduction of Loveit that Dorimant turned to the audience (the side we were on), and, acknowledging our reaction to his breathtaking cheek, he finally mouthed “shut up” at us, so he could carry on undisturbed. Of course, we laughed even more, but nothing much could throw that rake off his stride.

There’s a wonderful scene where Sir Fopling Flutter (the play’s fop, in case you hadn’t guessed) gives an excruciatingly embarrassing performance on the piano of a love song that he’s written. This is in Dorimant’s flat, and the others present (Dorimant, Medley, and the servant) are all busy filming it on their mobiles, to send on to their friends. Sir Fopling is played by Rory Kinnear, who’s very convincing as a young man desperate to become one of the “men about town”. His costumes were suitably outrageous, but still worked in the modern context. [Winner of an Olivier Award in 2008 for this performance]

The only other point to mention is that the casting makes the Bellair/Emilia families Asian, thereby making plausible the idea of arranged marriages, which would otherwise be difficult to portray sensibly in a modern context.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The New Statesman – April 2007

2/10

By: Laurence Marks and Maurice Gran

Directed by: Jennie Darnell

Venue: Theatre Royal, Brighton

Date: Thursday 12th April 2007

Well, this doesn’t happen to us often. We actually left the show at the interval! I’d considered leaving even earlier and waiting for Steve outside, but I managed to hold on.

The problem was only partly with the material on stage. These jokes were pretty old, and although there were topical references, the usual stale punch lines were dragged out again for another trot round the circus ring. In many ways, this humour reminded me of Bernard Manning – much despised by the alternative comedians, but tonight his jokes wouldn’t have seemed out of place. We got the impression that at least half the audience were laughing with B’Stard, rather than at him – a works outing from the BNP, perhaps? And as Rik Mayall milked every slight mistake for all it was worth, redoing them as often as possible, it became more an evening of one man’s extempore comedic business than a political satire piece.

There were some decent laughs to be had, such as the comment by Condoleza Rice about plan B, but not enough to keep us there, given that the couple next to me were excessively twitchy all through the first half.  The prospect of another hour beside them was too appalling to contemplate, and as Steve wasn’t that keen either, we headed off early.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Sailor Beware – March 2007

8/10

By PhilipKing  and Falkland Cary

Directed by Ian Dickens

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Tuesday 27th March 2007

This is a great example of the perils of in-laws. Albert Tufnell, a sailor who’s been an orphan from his early days, was about to marry Shirley, only daughter of Henry and Emma Hornett. This play covered the afternoon and evening leading up to the big day and the morning itself. Things didn’t go according to plan, at least not to Emma’s plan which was all she seemed to care about.

The play started with Edie, Henry’s sister, and Emma. The wedding cake had just arrived, and in her confusion Edie put the hot teapot down on Emma’s lovingly polished sideboard, leaving a mark. Ructions ensued, as Emma browbeat Edie into polishing the mark to see if she could get it out. At first, I had some sympathy for Emma, as Edie was one of those nervous, bumbling, people who can really get on my nerves, but as events unfolded we came to see Emma as she really was – a domineering woman who didn’t let anyone have a moment’s peace. She felt it her duty to point out everyone else’s mistakes and shortcomings, of which there were many. I thought when Shirley came along we’d see a different type of woman, but amazingly, Albert had fallen for a younger version of Emma! And despite spending a couple of long leaves with the family, as well.

Thanks to Edie, with whom Albert flirted outrageously, he found out that Emma had put down a deposit on a house three doors along the road, and with Shirley’s connivance. He’d been planning to move a few miles away to get work when his stint in the Navy was finished, and he wasn’t at all happy to hear this news. He gave Shirley several opportunities to tell him about it, but she flunked them all. He spent the night thinking about this, and decided not to go to the wedding the next morning. He came back to the house afterwards though, to ask Shirley to marry him but on his terms. She agreed, and the play ended with the family heading back off to the church for the wedding.

There was lot to enjoy in the play and in the performances. I liked the balance between the characters, and the fact that there was no black and white – everyone had their good points. Edie was annoying, but kind. She’d been left at the altar herself, so she decided there’s a curse on the family when the same thing happened to Shirley. Henry was seriously henpecked, but did speak up for himself increasingly as the play goes on. His final outpouring, after Albert and Shirley had come to an understanding, was great fun, especially as he didn’t just rubbish his wife for making everyone’s lives miserable. He knew she was also the one who made the comfortable home he was living in, who had put up with Edie for over twenty years, and who had his meal on the table every evening; there was a reference to other wives who are down the pictures when their husbands come home, with fish and chips in the oven for them – the Reverend winced when he mentioned this. Henry coped by having his ferrets to look after – they’re a good deal more affectionate than his wife. One of Rosie’s litter died on the morning of the wedding, and there was some fun when Henry and Edie tried to hide the body from Emma.

Emma herself was quite a character, and held the whole plot together. This performance was excellent and got across her personality, warts and all. There were too many good bits to list them all, but a special mention must go to the scene where the Reverend wanted a quiet word with Albert and Shirley and Emma naturally assumes that meant her as well!

Albert was the other main character in this comedy. He was the first person to stand up to Emma since she was born, from the looks of things, and he came across as being lively but with good common sense. Now that he’d put his foot down, hopefully Shirley won’t turn out like her mother.

The rest of the characters weren’t so significant, but there were some good performances all the same. Carnoustie, Albert’s Scottish pal from the Navy who was going to be his best man, was an uptight puritanical type to begin with, but he loosened up after Daphne made a play for him. She was Shirley’s cousin and one of the bridesmaids, and game for anything by the looks of her. Shirley was quite snippy with her at first – after all, she walked in the room to find Albert holding Daphne’s rather shapely leg. Shirley was a close copy of her mother, but was obviously feeling guilty about not telling Albert about the house deposit. She managed the change into a more reasonable human being very well.

The next door neighbour made a few appearances, always when there was a pot of tea arriving at the table. She even swiped the cup intended for Shirley, after the trauma of being jilted. The main problem I had was not being able to hear her dialogue very well, while all the others came across loud and clear. Finally, there was the Reverend, who only turned up towards the end. I found this performance rather out of keeping with the rest of the production – a bit over the top, with a loud voice and clumsy gestures. I got the impression it’s an understudy’s part – not too much to do, so the ASM can take it over if the understudy’s called on for a bigger role. There were still plenty of laughs, but I felt there was more there.

It was a very entertaining evening, and a cut above the Connaught’s usual fare. Even though it was obviously of its time, this play had a directness to it that made it seem very modern. Good fun all round.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Sizwe Banzi Is Dead – March 2007

7/10

Devised by: Athol Fugard, John Kani, Winston Ntshona

Directed by: Aubrey Sekhabi

Venue: Lyttelton Theatre

Date: Thursday 22nd March 2007

This was a great performance of a really good play. I hadn’t heard of it before, and didn’t know what to expect – perhaps something a bit serious and weighty. Not a bit of it. The proceedings start with John Kani coming on stage with a newspaper. He’s wearing a white coat over his clothes, and he takes the chair to the front of the stage, sits on it, and starts to read the paper, chatting to the audience all the while. The house lights are up, so there’s no hiding place. The rest of the stage is almost bare – there’s just a table, a board on an easel at the back with Styles Photographic Studio across it, covered with lots of photos and indications of his work – “Weddings”, “Passports”, etc. To the left is an old-fashioned camera on a tripod, and to the right a smaller table with a telephone and some bits and bobs. Nothing else, although even these items are removed when not needed, leaving a very bare acting space.

John Kani chats to us in the persona of Styles for quite some time – almost 45 minutes, I think. The production only lasts 90 minutes, so I did wonder when we would be seeing Winston Ntshona. But the chat was so entertaining. He laughed a lot, this character, telling us what was in the paper, then telling us about his time at the factory (very funny, especially when he was translating for the “baas”), and then telling us about the magic of his studio, where people come to live out their dreams. He even gets a couple of audience members up from the front row to show them his pictures. Today, Sophie Okonedo was one of those selected, and she looked so shy getting up onto the stage. Styles chatted with them, as he chatted with all of us, including us all as part of his community.

Of course, there were more moving parts of his dialogue, along with massive amounts of humour, but most of the difficult stuff was in the second half, after the man who had been Sizwe Banzi arrived to have his picture taken. The mood shifted gradually, without ever becoming bleak or terribly dark, yet we were shown the lengths many black people had to go to in order to survive under apartheid. Sizwe Banzi, played by Winston Ntshona, was a simple man from the country, come to town to make some money for his family. By the time he arrives at Styles’ studio, he’s lost his name, and we get to see the process by which this happens. He’s not allowed to stay in town, and his passport has been stamped as such by white officials. He’ll be in real trouble if he doesn’t get back to his family by yesterday. Out on the town with a helpful chap, Buntu, they come across a dead black guy, who happens to have the right kind of stamps in his passport. With much reluctance, Sizwe agrees to take on the dead man’s identity. The next day he goes to the studio to have his picture taken, so he can send it to his wife, and let her know that her “husband” is dead, but that he, Robert, will be sending her money and hopefully a permit so that she and the family can join him in town.

His story is very moving, and still there’s plenty of humour on show. Even the ridiculous lengths to which Sizwe would have to go to get permission to move back to the town is turned to laughter. Buntu spells out in great detail how Sizwe would have to get this letter, then that letter, then this stamp and that stamp, etc., and after a great long speech, sums it up with one word – “Simple!”

The performances were just superb throughout. These two actors helped to devise this piece, and originally played it thirty-five years ago, as much younger men. Not only is it still fresh today (they had reworked it quite a bit in the first half to make it more topical), but their skills have presumably only improved over the years. We’re unlikely to see this play done better. (I enjoyed it so much we bought the play text afterwards, hence my knowledge of the reworking).

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me