Category Archives: Comedy

Twelfth Night – July 2012

8/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by David Farr

Venue: RST

Date: Thursday 26th July 2012

This was the production we liked best in the main house earlier this year, and it’s still the best this time, but not by as much. There were some changes we spotted, plus additional aspects we hadn’t seen before, and a very appreciative audience meant there was a great atmosphere. The performances had undoubtedly come on, but they were pretty well established before, so the improvement wasn’t so noticeable. I could have done without some additional commentary from the people behind us, but it didn’t happen too often and didn’t ruin the evening.

As we knew how the performance started, we lost the advantage of surprise which can make a huge difference with such a spectacular staging. So it probably took me a little longer to warm up than last time, but not much. I wasn’t sure if there were fewer actors creeping on stage during the blackout, but this time I noticed the blinking red light towards the top of the pillar, which indicated the port scenes. During Orsino’s first speech, I was aware that his comments about Olivia’s capacity for love, grieving as she is for a dead brother, would apply equally as well to Viola, grieving over Sebastian’s bag at the front of the stage while this scene is going on.

Some minor differences during the early scenes: no applause for Sir Andrew’s moonwalk, sadly, and Cesario didn’t cough over his cigarette. When Olivia gave Malvolio the ring to take to Cesario, she took it off her finger this time instead of a chain, and it was easy to see how her flirtatiousness was being misinterpreted by Malvolio. The beeping of the trolley wasn’t as loud as before – perhaps other people had trouble with their hearing aids as well – and the ring still ended up in the water.

Sir Andrew’s dunking did happen as a result of Malvolio’s arrival. He (Sir Andrew) edged backwards along the diving board, and fell in at a suitable moment. Three splashes for the front row, though none of them seemed as big as in the earlier performance – perhaps they’re getting the hang of it. The comments about Orsino’s mind being like an opal may have been trimmed, as Feste exited after the word “opal” this time. Cesario’s discussion with Orsino about the nature of male and female love was good, and as I was watching this scene, and others during the performance, I found I was able to register Cesario as a boy, and see the situation from Orsino’s perspective.

For the letter scene, the business with the three objects on the reception desk had changed; now Sir Toby or Sir Andrew grabbed one of the items to throw it at Malvolio, and Fabian deftly removed it just in time. Otherwise it was all as I remembered, and just as funny, with the audience responding brilliantly to every little gesture or comment. The rest of the first half was as before, and we left Olivia sitting on the bench seat with her head in her hands.

The second half started as before. Sir Andrew didn’t get his “yes, I’ll hold” in this time, but otherwise it was the same, and still funny. The ditching of his mobile in the water didn’t please the audience though; there was a slight murmur which suggested we were seeing a less funny side to Sir Toby’s pranks. Olivia didn’t release the chandelier nor change into her summer frock as early as I’d thought last time; the chandelier releasing happened as she was about to go to church to marry Sebastian, and her summer frock appeared after the wedding. One other thing I forgot to mention last time; Cesario did some hand slapping with the guards as he crossed the stage at one point, and when they met with Sebastian later, they did the same with him, much to his surprise.

With so few changes from last time, the improvement we experienced was partly down to the practice the cast have had, a stronger audience response, and our different angle which revealed some things we hadn’t seen before. We have another performance booked, and we’re looking forward to it already.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Comedy Of Errors – July 2012

7/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Amir Nizar Zuabi

Venue: RST

Date: Wednesday 25th July 2012

There were a number of differences between tonight and the first time we saw the production, and all for the better. The stage was less cluttered, although the shiny black ‘water’ in the corner, with all the bits of rubbish ‘floating’ in it, had been replaced by real water – oo-er (glad we weren’t sitting over on that side tonight). The band seemed to walk across the stage much less tonight – I certainly don’t remember them in the red tracksuits – and there were some other cuts as well, with a few additions. Overall the dialogue was delivered better, but for some reason Adriana and Luciana were hard to understand after their first scene, and I missed most of their lines for the rest of the play.

The Duke’s treatment of Egeon at the start was just as harsh, but it was clearer that it was derived from the equally harsh treatment meted out to Ephesians by Syracuse. Once Egeon’s story was underway, he was only dunked once more (gratuitously, I thought), but his treatment began to improve as the Duke’s hard heart defrosted slightly. At the end, the Duke had softened enough to dab at Egeon’s wet patches with his towel, and offered him the opportunity to find a friend who could help him out.

Antipholus of Syracuse (A/S) and his Dromio (D/S) arrived the same way as before, but when A/S was on his own, even more characters came out of the other crate. First the black guy who was caught at the end of the first half, then a priest in a long black robe, then the woman selling the knock-off goods.

For Adriana and Luciana’s first scene, the platform was (slowly) brought on, but this time it was lowered all the way to the ground and stayed there – hooray! This made it much easier to follow what was going on, and I found I was engaging with the women much more this time. Actually, it was easier to engage with Adriana, as Luciana is such a wimp, and in this production a bit of a prude as well. The next scene, with D/S meeting his master, was fine, and if I had been able to see more of Adriana’s speech to her ‘husband’ I would probably have enjoyed that section as much as the rest of the audience. Again they didn’t seem able to get the laugh on “Plead you to me, fair dame?” At one point both D/S and A/S were edging towards the water and I wondered if they would fall in, but they were safe this time.

I could see more of the arrival of Antipholus of Ephesus (A/E) this time, and although the reactions were good, it didn’t seem any funnier than before. I noticed Dromio of Ephesus’s (D/E) attempts at rap more though; possibly these have increased? I wasn’t sure what went on between Adriana and A/S; how could they have had sex if only a short while later he was declaring that his soul abhorred her? Yet that was the implication of Adriana looking out of her window with only a sheet wrapped round her, and A/S leaving the house still doing up his shirt and tie.

After A/S’s chat with Luciana, then sending D/S to find a ship and getting the chain from the goldsmith, the young black man from the crate came on again and was caught by the police. Instead of A/S joining in the group photo, he just ran off stage, glad to get away, while the lights went down on one of the guards holding a gun to the young man’s head, about to shoot.

The second half rattled along much as before until we came to the courtesan scene. When D/S rolled the oil drum at her, the flattened bit didn’t stop it, but it was going so slowly that she easily stopped it with her foot and pushed it back. After they left, D/E came running across the stage, and she threw her shoe at him, thinking he was the Dromio who’d just left. They did this a number of times during the play, with the two Dromios often on stage together, or following very closely but not catching sight of each other, and that added to the humour for me.

When Adriana caught up with her husband, bringing along Pinch and his henchmen, A/E was sent flying over one of the oil drums and nearly landed in the water; Adriana had to run over and help him out. This was the only use of the water that I could see. Adriana’s expression when the courtesan claimed her ring was not a happy one. Otherwise the staging was the same up to the end, with the flying Virgin Mary actually hitting one of the cast as she swung back across the stage. [The following day we learned he had been in the wrong place and with his eyes shut. No real damage done, but he won’t be doing that again in a hurry!] There was no second coming tonight though; at the very end, after the Dromios had said their lines and held hands, they walked towards the abbey door, stopped briefly for a hug (aahh), then walked on holding hands again. Just before they got to the abbey, the security door slid shut, and they stood there for a second before the lights went out. Brilliant, much better than the previous version.

The two Dromios were still the best part of this show, but the rest of the cast have come on so much that it’s now a pretty balanced production. There were lots of lovely touches in the comic business, such as at the end, when D/S was using gestures to indicate Nell, and D/E pulled his hand wider to reflect a more accurate size. So despite the difficulties of the restricted view and loss of lines, I enjoyed myself much more tonight and happily applauded when they came on for their bows. There was another treat, too. Bruce Mackinnon stopped us after the second lot of bows and asked if we would stay for a picture to be taken of the audience applauding, for the RSC website. We duly obliged, and then it turned out our hands weren’t visible so we had to clap again with them raised. We happily did this as well, and even called out for more. After several minutes of a rapturous reception, which the cast didn’t seem to mind one bit, the signal came that the job was done and we could all go home (though in our case we went next door to the Swan for the post-show after A Soldier In Every Son).

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

A Soldier In Every Son – July 2012 (2)

8/10

By Luis Mario Moncada

Directed by Roxana Silbert

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Monday 23rd July 2012

This performance was just as good as the one we saw earlier this month. Some of the Mexican actors were clearer in their dialogue – the English lessons are definitely working – although with all the unfamiliar names some of the lines could still be difficult to make out, regardless of who was speaking. The audience was a reasonable size, but still not as much as the production deserves.

I forgot to mention the death walkers last time. These were actors done up in black skeleton suits with skull faces; they stalked the dead and dying, hungry to get at them, and their touch would guide the dead body off the stage, a neat way to do this awkward task. The music was so good I didn’t notice it, though the short dance at the start of the second half had a real rock’n’roll sound to it.

The play started with one character blowing a conch-shell in all four directions, and as he did this the rest of the cast approached from the sides. They then did a rousing dance, with lots of arm movements and sideways bouncing steps. The opening scene then had prince Ixtlixochitl painting lines on his favourite slave girl, Zilamiauh, in an attempt to explain the geography of the area to her, which also allowed us to get the basics. His friends turned up once they’d dealt with the surface contours and were about to probe the deeper regions – not embarrassed about sex, these Mexicans. One of his friends, called Tochitzin, brought news that the king wanted Ixtlixochitl back at the palace pronto so he could woo his arranged bride Tecpa, daughter to Tezozomoc, king of the Tepanecas. The marriage was intended to seal a treaty between the Tepanecas and Acolhuas, but Prince Ixtlixochitl wasn’t looking forward to it, as Tecpa had a terrible reputation and had already messed up at least two previous arranged marriages. To help him practice his excuses to the king for his late arrival, he and Tochitzin did a Shakespearean homage by reprising the scene from Henry IV Part 1, where Falstaff pretends to be the king and reproaches Hal for his bad behaviour. This time it’s Tochitzin taking that role, and naturally he recommends himself as the one exception to the prince’s dissolute companions.

Back at the palace, king Techotlala is discussing the situation with two of his closest advisors. There’s plenty of scope for humour in this scene, with Huexotla in particular dishing the dirt in Tecpa in a very entertaining way. After making his apologies to his father, prince Ixtlixochitl takes on the challenge of wooing that lady, and that’s when the trouble really starts. She was determined that her future husband must give up his concubines and slave girls until her first son is born, so as to avoid any awkward inheritance issues. Ixtlixochitl will not give up his right to dip his wick wherever he pleases, given that he will provide Tecpa with a son and other children too, if she wants. A practical attitude towards sex was clearly prevalent in this community, but Tecpa remained a resolute exception, and the wedding was off (again).

This did not please her father, Tezozomoc, who threw a right royal strop when she returned to her family, unmarried. Tayatzin, his heir-apparent who arranged the treaty and the marriage, also came in for a bit of stick, but the main problem was Maxtla, the king’s first born son by a peasant woman, who wanted war so that he could inherit the kingdom through his military ability, in place of his brother the peace-maker. With the Aztecs fighting for Tezozomoc, there was little chance of the Acolhuas winning a war at this time, so Tezozomoc decided to mount a blockade and starve them into submission. Back in Texcoco, king Techotlala died, but with his last words he gave his son the best advice he could: marry an Aztec princess, so that your children will be Acolhuas rulers that the Aztecs can support, and play nice with Tezozomoc until you’re in a position to kill him. Words to live by.

So the new king Ixtlixochitl married Mayahuel, an Aztec princess, and they had a son, Nezahualcoyotl. After about ten years, with many of his people starving due to the blockade, Ixtlixochitl tried to patch things up with Tezozomoc. Tayatzin was the go-between again, and managed to arrange a compromise whereby he and Maxtla will attend a ceremony acknowledging Nezahualcoyotl as heir to the Acolhuas kingdom, while the Acolhuas will pay even more tribute than before, with the blockade being lifted. Seemed like a reasonably good deal, except that Maxtla wasn’t one for diplomacy, and his flagrant insults to Ixtlixochitl at the ceremony caused an immediate outbreak of war, just what Maxtla wanted. However, with the help of Mayahuel and Itzcoatl, the offspring of a previous Aztec king and a slave girl, Ixtlixochitl persuaded the Aztecs to leave the battle, and against the odds the Acolhuas won! Generous in victory, Ixtlixochitl let Tezozomoc live, but now Ixtlixochitl was the ‘great king’ who gets tribute from everyone else.

It’s about now that we saw Tecpa again, and time clearly hadn’t done anything to heal her wounds. Carrying a special flask, she was with a witch-doctor, asking him to cast a very detailed spell to cause all sorts of nasty things to happen to Ixtlixochitl – hair falling out, going blind, dribbling, penis dropping off, that sort of thing. She got a bit carried away and included other people as well, such as his son, but the witch-doctor kept reminding her he didn’t do third-party curses. After her long list was complete, he waved some feathers and incense smoke over the flask and told her to go through a process of burying it, washing it, etc. When Tayatzin was taking the first load of tribute to Ixtlixochitl, Tecpa gave him the flask as a special gift, for Ixtlixochitl’s lips only. But things didn’t go to plan.

Having banished Tochitzin when he became king (shades of Henry IV part II), Ixtlixochitl welcomed him back when he turned up at the post-battle celebration and carve-up of the booty, all the more so because he was accompanied by Zilamiauh, who is heavily pregnant with Ixtlixochitl’s child. While Ixtlixochitl gave a few last instructions to his generals before retiring to spend time with Zilamiauh, Tochitzin drank some of the poison himself and went berserk, killing Zilamiauh and her baby. Ixtlixochitl stabbed Tochitzin in revenge, but when he was told that the flask was poisoned, he naturally assumed that Tezozomoc had caused her death. He knocked back the last of the poison himself and went on a rampage, trying to kill Tezozomoc single-handed.

Despite a few soldiers protecting him, he was soon captured and led before Tezozomoc tied to a spear. There he learnt that Tecpa sent the poison, but too late; Maxtla killed him and headed off to find his son to remove the heir to the Acolhuas kingdom. Tezozomoc was more than happy to take advantage of this turn of events and proclaimed himself king of Acolhuas. Maxtla found the boy and killed his guard, then told his servant Tonahuac to kill the boy. Tonahuac went off with the boy, then brought a bowl with a bloody heart in it to Tezozomoc, and the final image of the first half was Tezozomoc standing triumphant, holding up the heart, now re-crowned as king of kings. (But if you know your King John, you may be wary of assuming that the Acolhuas heir was actually dead.)

I’d forgotten how much the first half was Prince Hal/Henry V, while the second half was mostly Richard III.  After the opening dance, the performance re-started with a monologue from Itzcoatl, explaining the situation as he sees it. Then Tezozomoc died, and a few minutes later his son, heir and the next king of the Tepanecas, Tayatzin, followed him. Maxtla was so incensed that his father gave the crown to his younger, legitimate, brother that he strangled him with the king’s own standard. Tacuba was looking on, but didn’t intervene; he clearly didn’t want to get involved in a family squabble, and it made Tecpa’s earlier concern about rival heirs seem quite reasonable, while the death walkers were having a field day.

With Maxtla now lording it over everyone else and suspicious of plots against him, Itzcoatl took advantage of his king, Quimalpopoca, being summoned to visit Maxtla. He arranged for a muxe (a third gender in this culture, a man dressed as a woman) to kill Quimalpopoca in Maxtla’s palace, and then turned up, all innocent, asking to see his king. When Maxtla finally confessed that Quimalpopoca had somehow been murdered, war broke out again, and now Itzcoatl played his trump card. Having manoeuvred the Aztec council into proclaiming him king ahead of Quimalpopoca’s son, Itzcoatl revealed that he had kept Nezahualcoyotl prisoner for years, and he’d grown up to be the spitting image of his dad, minus a birth mark on his face. With their real king restored, the Aztec and Acolhuas united to defeat the Tepanecas, and aside from the gory detail of Maxtla delivering Itzcoatl’s mother’s head to him in a basket, that’s basically it. The final scene, with Itzcoatl, Nezahualcoyotl and Tacuba forming a triple alliance to rule over the whole valley, was illustrated by the emergence of the triple emblem on the back wall, and sealed by the sacrifice of young Ohtonqui, the heir ousted by Itzcoatl. The boy went willingly, as it was a noble death (what do they teach them in school?), and was held up by four death eaters as a priest made the sacrifice and removed the heart. Again, the final image was of a heart being held up, not the most uplifting to us, but a fitting climax for this story.

The audience was still too sparse for such a good production, but we did our best. The line about the father and son being identical got another good laugh tonight. I noticed the arm movements more this time; although I don’t know what they meant, they obviously had significance to the characters. The symbols at the back were more mixed than I reported before, with combinations of the three main symbols cropping up as the political situation ebbed and flowed. I noticed that the mat placed under the child at the end was showing the effect of so many sacrifices, with a red stain showing up nicely in the middle, while Steve noticed a grimace from the young Nezahualcoyotl when Ixtlixochitl and Zilamiauh kissed.

The names were beginning to sound familiar to me this time, so although I couldn’t pronounce most of them, I found that helped my understanding. It’s a bit like the Henry VI’s, when all those place names make my head spin. Even so, there were parts that were still hard to follow, and although I got more of the detail I can’t claim to have followed it completely. I’ll just have to read the script when I get home.

[Post-show Wed 25/7/12 – This was reasonably well attended, and I even managed to speak briefly to Siobhan Redmond and Sandra Duncan to compliment them on their performances in Richard III. They’d been involved in a reading of Soldier back in January, and came along to the post-show to support their colleagues.

The cast who came back were a mix of British and Mexican, with Andrés Weiss (Tayatzin) doing most of the talking for the Mexican contingent. His knowledge of English was very good, but the work done by all the Mexican cast members in coming over and learning a new language was acknowledged by the British actors. The Mexican’s openness and ability to work together was also mentioned as being far ahead of the usual British experience, although the closeness which the rest of the cast had developed from working on the other plays meant they weren’t too far behind.

The changes in the length of the play were discussed, along with the strange rehearsal process whereby some of the cast were performing during the evenings and matinees as well as rehearsing. The costumes and set were complimented, and the similarity to Shakespeare’s plays was touched on as well, without going into much detail. I would have liked to ask a lot more questions, but time ran out and we had to leave, satisfied that we’d supported such an amazing cast and production.]

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Taming Of The Shrew – July 2012

9/10

By William Shakespeare

Directed by Toby Frow

Venue: Shakespeare’s Globe

Date: Thursday 19th July 2012

Brilliant production! The whole cast were excellent, and the choice to do the play simply, with few fancy stagings but a lot of good business, led to a clear and enjoyable performance which the audience participated in fully.

The set was slightly revised from before. The triangle at the front had been chopped short, with a ramp leading up to the front edge from deep in the pit. The side stairs were still there, and the scaffolding had been replaced with a colonnade and balcony in distressed wood, with the tattered remains of white paint. The balcony backdrop showed the cityscape of fair Padua, except when it had a blue curtain and a deer’s head was hung on the balcony to represent Petruchio’s country estate. The furniture removal men were in full swing as usual, and the musicians wore natty red numbers while the rest of the cast were in appropriate gear for the time and place.

The musicians started proceedings with the latest entries in the mediaeval hit parade, but were interrupted by a rather coarse gentleman in an England shirt, who was obviously the worse for wear. Well, we’re not novices when it comes to this play, so we weren’t worried, but the stewards were, and they were having the devil of a time trying to get him out of the theatre. He broke away from one young lady after kicking her in a nasty place, and ran onto the stage; well, staggered onto the stage. The toilet humour continued with him pissing against the far pillar and then spraying the liquid around a bit, especially over one poor chap at the front of the crowd. After being accosted by a security guard (they managed to find one? Not using G4S, then) he collapsed on the stage and was pronounced dead.

Whispered conversations between the guard and stage manager led to the announcement that the show would have to be cancelled – we voiced our disappointment. Some of the actors had snuck on stage to see what was going on, and after some protests from the stage manager, proceeded to suggest that they could do the show anyway; it helped that the drunk had recovered enough to throw up on the stage, thereby saving himself from an early grave. The suggestion was made “What think you, if he was conveyed to bed…”, and we were into the induction, with us, the audience, being fully complicit this time in the deception practised on Sly. Later, when Sly was asking for assurance that he was, indeed, a lord, he turned to the audience, and we, shameful liars, all called out ‘yes’. (He did check with one woman at the front first, but presumably he didn’t believe her.) This was a good way to start things, as it got the audience very involved from the beginning.

When the actors were trying to persuade Sly – “O this it is that makes your lady mourn” etc. – they chanted the lines and then sang them. When Pip Donaghy wanted to deliver “O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth…”, the others kept on singing the words after him, and he had several goes at telling them to stop before they all finally shut up and let him speak the lines unaccompanied. One other thing with this staging; when they were setting the initial scene for Sly’s awakening, one actor held up two framed pictures, as if they were on a wall. Later, these pictures were held up while they described them to Sly, along with a frame which an actor posed behind.

The actors already being on stage, the lines about their arrival and the arrangements for the play were ditched. A tall lad was chosen to play Sly’s wife, and after he persuaded Sly that sex would be a bad idea, they went down to the pit and stood at the front of the stage to watch the play. This lasted till the two young men started taking off their clothes, and with cries of “obscenity” (not in the text), Sly and his lady departed. No further reference was made to this sub-plot afterwards, thankfully, and it was good to see them sticking to the text as we have it for once.

To get back to the start of the play: while Lucentio and Tranio were introducing themselves and discussing their ‘to do’ list for their stay in Padua, there were various sober churchmen and the like sitting on the benches round the pillars, along with a refreshments seller. The two scholars on our side held small pamphlets, and when Tranio was talking about studying philosophy, he nicked one of the pamphlets to demonstrate his point. (He did return it.) The seller supplied him with two cups of something or other, and Lucentio drained his willingly before the line “Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise”.

When the older gentlemen realised that Kate was coming on stage – I think there was some noise to that effect – they scarpered as quickly as they could, and the seller was so keen to get away that he left his tray behind. This was an early clue to Kate’s reputation, and her first appearance did nothing to change that. Samantha Spiro’s Kate was so feared by everyone in Padua that she only had to pretend to throw her apple at the men and they flinched. Bianca was good as gold in this scene, and Lucentio fell in love with her from the balcony, where he and Tranio observed the scene. The dialogue wasn’t entirely clear at this point, but my knowledge of the play got me through it OK. When her father slammed the door shut in her face, Kate stepped back and took a run at it, knocking it flat with a ferocious kick. Definitely not a woman to meddle with.

Gremio waved goodbye to Hortensio several times, keen for him to leave so he could disclose to us his cunning plan, but Hortensio lingered long enough to hear the details. He soon persuaded Gremio of their common interest – finding a husband for Kate – and they left together, while Lucentio and Tranio came down from the balcony and went through their routine. Lucentio was so far gone that he knelt down and kissed the stage – Bianca hadn’t even walked on that bit! He went further and further until he was lying on the ramp, and when he came back up to kneeling, his sword was in a suggestive position. I couldn’t see Tranio’s reactions to Lucentio’s idea that they could change places – sometimes he’s actually keen to do it, sometimes not – but this was when they started shedding their clothes and Sly and his ‘wife’ left.

The two lads went further than usual, mind you, with only their underpants preventing an indecency prosecution. When Biondello arrived (the former pretend wife), they explained the plot and exited, just as Petruchio and Grumio entered from our left and walked up the ramp to visit Petruchio’s old friend Hortensio. Grumio, played by Pearce Quigley, was on the slow side and took Petruchio’s instructions literally, hence the problems. I reckoned he’d spent too much time on the estate and wasn’t as street smart as Tranio. I also felt he hadn’t spent as much time with Petruchio as is usually suggested, which was supported by Hortensio’s tentative reference to him as “your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant”. Grumio struck Petruchio as he stood by the top of the ramp, Petruchio grabbed Grumio by the head and used that to knock at the door, and Hortensio appeared on the balcony to enquire about the noise. As Grumio staggered back towards the front of the stage, Hortensio saw him first, and then Petruchio walked out from under the balcony to be greeted by his friend; I think some of the dialogue was cut here.

There was the usual laugh when Hortensio described Katherine, pausing before mentioning “her only fault”. Gremio turned up with Lucentio in disguise, and then Tranio, disguised as Lucentio, arrived. As Tranio, he had an Irish accent but talked as posh as he could while pretending to be a gentleman. He was also wearing a wig, and while he wasn’t as ludicrous as some we’ve seen, he was sufficiently inappropriate to be funny. When challenged about his purpose in going to Baptista Minola’s he drew his sword on Gremio, who drew a sword out of this walking stick in response. When Hortensio joined in the questioning, Tranio turned the sword on him, and Petruchio supplied Hortensio with a weapon. With two swords to his one, Tranio soon became reasonable, and joined the confederacy willingly enough. Also, when Gremio declared himself a suitor to Bianca, Grumio snorted with laughter, a reasonable response in the circumstances as Michael Bertenshaw was playing Gremio with a serious stoop.

As they left, Bianca stumbled onto the stage, blindfolded and with her hands tied together. She tried a few steps, but didn’t get very far, and then Kate arrived, brandishing a bullwhip. She cracked it a number of times and Bianca was scared at first, but then she rallied and began to fight back. When her hands were untied, they really started brawling, rolling on the stage as they fought, but then Bianca saw their father coming along and fell back, sobbing. The cow! We weren’t impressed, and there was a lot of sympathy for Kate in this scene, but not from her father and certainly not from Bianca, who made all the usual rude gestures at Kate behind her father’s back, including biting her thumb (see Romeo and Juliet, Act 1, Scene 1).

The procession of visitors was funny, with Hortensio disguised by a beard, glasses and a pillbox hat, and Biondello carrying a huge stack of books which he could only just manage (and he’s a tall chap). Petruchio’s question to Baptista “have you not a daughter call’d Katherina, fair and virtuous?” got more of a laugh on the question rather than Baptista’s stunned response, and the introduction of ‘Licio’ was quite funny too; I wasn’t sure if Petruchio had agreed the fake name with Hortensio beforehand or not. Everyone else left the stage to Petruchio and Baptista for the dowry discussion, and there was one bit of screaming and thumping before Hortensio reappeared, hat askew. The lute wasn’t wrapped round him this time, but a broken instrument was thrown out onto the stage a few moments later, accompanied by another snarling sound, so that we could see what he was describing. He looked pretty unhappy at his treatment, and for once I was aware that he was a gentleman, not used to acting like a servant and certainly not used to this sort of treatment, as he usually stayed well out of Kate’s reach. This incident got across what an unpleasant woman Kate is at this point, treating servants like punch bags.

Hortensio cheered up a lot when Baptista suggested he work with Bianca, and from dragging himself round the stage, he fairly skipped off to do Baptista’s bidding. Baptista was clearly keen for Petruchio to meet Kate out of doors – less damage to the household goods – and Petruchio readily agreed. When Kate arrived, and he turned to see her, their first look was clearly one of mutual attraction; he was stunned that she was so beautiful, and she was surprised to see someone she liked the look of. They both recovered enough to start their wrangling, and there was a fair bit of physical sparring as well. It all happened so fast that I can’t remember it all, but it included Petruchio holding her at arm’s length while she tried to hit him, and a game of chase round the pit, where Kate pretended to punch some of the audience members. Petruchio tripped her up as she came back up the stairs, hence the reference to her limp. When the others came back, I think they were sitting side by side on the stage, with her skirt partly over Petruchio’s legs (but I may be wrong). Kate was shocked and unhappy to overhear Petruchio’s excuse to the rest that she would “still be curst in company”.

The bidding for Bianca was enjoyable enough, and I realised that although the details Gremio is giving seem strange to us now, the value of these objects in those days would be much greater than we appreciate in our mass production culture. Earlier, Gremio tells Cambio that he will have some books of love “very fairly bound”, and from recent documentaries we’ve learned just how expensive such things were, so presumably the other items were worth mentioning as well. Tranio really enjoyed trumping Gremio at every turn, and we were sorry for poor Gremio when he could offer no more.

The wooing scene between Licio, Cambio and Bianca was good fun, with Bianca starting to assert herself more without actually appearing shrewish herself. She and Cambio sat on a bench to begin with, but moved forward to the ramp as their discussion progressed. During the music lesson, Licio strummed his lute after Bianca read each line of the gamut, which was funny.

The wedding scene was very good fun. We felt sorry for Kate in her predicament, and Biondello’s speech about Petruchio and his horse went down very well. He had the decency to rush through the long litany of the horse’s complaints, as none of us would have known what they were anyway. The comments ascribed to Tranio in my text were actually said by Licio, which made more sense with Hortensio being an old friend of Petruchio’s. Petruchio’s arrival confirmed the description of him; one boot was hanging off, his clothes were extremely tatty, and his horse was actually Grumio, with a bit between his teeth and a pair of coconut shells to make the hoof beats. Petruchio had a carrot dangling somewhere, which he fed to Grumio, and when he was asked to doff his clothes, he did. Off came the jerkin, off came the shirt, and off came the trousers as well. Fortunately he kept his well-padded posing pouch on “else we had been all shamed”.

Hortensio offered to supply alternative clothes; Simon Paisley Day (Petruchio) is a good bit taller than Rick Warden (Hortensio), and they put in some good business whereby Petruchio held his hand up at his own height and waved it over Hortensio’s head to indicate that the offer just wasn’t going to work. From our angle, we were aware that Petruchio’s cheeks were on show, but when he turned to go into the church there was a huge roar from the crowd. I didn’t hear all the lines between Lucentio and Tranio, but Gremio soon joined them, and his description of the wedding ceremony was as clear as I’ve heard before.

When the wedding party re-entered, I had the impression that Petruchio was figuring out his tactics as he went along. His initial declaration that Kate was his property was not well received by the audience, but he took his time between his descriptions of her, and when he said “my barn” the whole speech took on a surreal air; even Kate was a bit perplexed by the description. After that, we could see the humour of it, and there was even some applause as he and Grumio clip-clopped off to the sound of the coconut shells with Kate slung over Petruchio’s shoulder. The rest of the characters had obviously enjoyed the spectacle, and as they left the stage for the wedding feast, Biondello was at the back of the group and gestured for the rest of us to go and get our own refreshments during the interval. Almost forgot – the priest was leaning on Baptista during this part, after the battering he’d taken during the ceremony.

The second half opened at Petruchio’s place. Some of the cast brought out a long table, some plates, etc., and a large tablecloth. They never actually put the cloth on the table, mind you, though it went just about everywhere else – wrapped around one chap as a skirt, held up as a bed sheet and the like. They sang an older version of The Cuckoo’s Nest – not one we’d heard before – and it was a good warm-up for the audience. There were two chairs, one at either end of the table, with antler-shapes on the arms and across the back. With these and the deer’s head, the setting of an old-fashioned country house was well established.

Grumio arrived with the coconut shells, and after telling us how cold he was, called for Curtis. For once there was no great fuss about getting the work done; as Curtis kept reassuring him, everything was ready. For the fire, Curtis referred to a lit candle on the table – not much use I would have thought – but the fun was in Grumio’s telling of the story to bring us up-to-date which came across better than usual. The other servants arrived when called, eventually, and again the impression I had was of slower-witted country folk, similar to the servants in She Stoops To Conquer.

Petruchio and Kate arrived, and she was definitely bedraggled. He didn’t look much different, but then he was dressed so badly for the wedding who would have noticed? The water was spilled over Kate this time, due to Petruchio tipping up the table at the other end, and I noticed how Kate was becoming much more aware of other people’s suffering. When the meat arrived the servants loaded up the plates, but each servant who held Kate’s plate was distracted by Petruchio’s next instruction. Kate was at the far end of the table when she finally had a plate in front of her, and then came the grace, which took an age. The meat soon went flying, and the large joint was tossed between the servants, too hot for anyone to hold for long. Meanwhile Kate dashed between them, trying to get some meat for herself, a classic game of pig-in-the-middle.

Once they left, the servants cleared the food (there were lots of sausage rolls and bits of carrot all over the place), while Curtis snuck up the stairs to report on events in the bed chamber. We could hear ‘yes, yes, yes, YES’ from Kate, followed by ‘no, no’ from Petruchio. When he came out onto the balcony, he began his speech up there, but came down to the stage pretty quickly. No one responded when he asked for other ideas, not surprisingly. This can be a difficult speech, but this time I was aware that he was showing Kate her own behaviour, and giving her a chance to break free of her habit of scolding everyone. She was already well on the way, so Petruchio didn’t seem unkind or nasty in doing this; instead he seemed to be the only person who could help such a damaged woman.

Tranio and Hortensio entered for the next scene, both in disguise, while Bianca and Lucentio were up on the balcony. They indulged in some kissing, and then slid down below the railing. Various items of clothing were thrown over the rail to the stage below, while Hortensio revealed himself to Tranio by taking off his hat and pulling his beard up to rest on top of his head – very funny. Lucentio and Bianca reappeared on the balcony, still snogging, and finally Hortensio left in disgust. Tranio gave the couple the good news – they came down to join him on the stage – and then Biondello turned up with the sighting of a likely prospect to play Vincentio.

When the pedant arrived, he was more smartly dressed than most. Tranio and Biondello stood in his way at the top of the ramp, and although he got past them eventually, they soon had him hooked with their fake story. The table came back on with the chairs, and then Grumio tormented Kate with all the food she couldn’t have. He kept getting up to go to the kitchen for the food, then realising it might be “too choleric” and sitting down again. The final time he didn’t even move from the table before deciding against the food in question.

Petruchio came on with a whole roast chicken on a platter. He put it fairly central on the table, so it was just out of Kate’s reach when she lunged for it. He moved it even further off, then took it away altogether as she crawled along the table to get at it. She was kneeling on the table when he insisted on being thanked for his effort, and the expressions on her face were priceless; it cost her dear to thank him, but she managed to get a rather sulky “I thank you, sir” out after several attempts. With her sitting at the middle of the table now, and Hortensio at the end, Petruchio kept her distracted for a short time while Hortensio shoved most of the chicken in his napkin and wolfed down the rest.

The table was removed quickly to leave room for the tailor and his goods. Grumio was the model for the dress this time; I couldn’t see the ripping of the sleeve as he was behind the pillar, but the overall effect was clear. The tailor left with the remains of the dress, and Kate was lying on the stage, eyes closed as if asleep. Petruchio noted this and tested her with his reference to the time. Ever alert for a quarrel, she opened her eyes and put him straight, but to no avail.

The scene where Tranio introduced the pedant to Baptista was very funny, with the pedant having difficulty remembering his lines and being prompted by Tranio, Lucentio and Biondello behind Baptista’s back. With Baptista satisfied, and the rest heading off to continue their business privately, Biondello had the usual amount of trouble getting Lucentio to take the hint – Bianca, church, parson; how difficult is it?

Petruchio, Hortensio, Grumio, Kate and two or three other servants came trekking on to the stage, singing a farming list song. They’d obviously been singing it for some time on their journey, as it had quite a few animals on the list already – cow, sheep, etc. As they went up the steps below us, Kate was clinging on to people in the audience, and for her turn she came up with ‘pig’. They had some trouble getting the right pig noise out of her, and then Petruchio started on his moonshine nonsense. The servants who were ahead of them had reached the far steps and stopped for a rest; when Petruchio decided to return to his house, one of them came back while the other actually kept going! Don’t know what happened there. Finally Kate decided to stop arguing, and went along with whatever Petruchio said.

The real Vincentio came along, and Kate began to enjoy herself. She checked with Petruchio that it was indeed the sun that had bedazzled her eyes, and Vincentio joined in nicely by addressing Kate as “Fair sir” and Petruchio as “my merry mistress”, which was taken in good part. I did spot the plot discrepancy in this scene, when Petruchio tells Vincentio that his son is to be married to Kate’s sister and Hortensio confirms it – hasn’t he just agreed with ‘Lucentio’ that they will both shun Bianca? But perhaps a message reached them that we’re unaware of, and Hortensio has got over ‘Lucentio’s’ apparent betrayal of their agreement. (Shows how clearly the story was being told, mind you.)

Their arrival at ‘Lucentio’s’ lodgings was good fun, and although I missed some of it behind the pillars, I got the gist. The pretend Vincentio was wonderfully drunk as he leaned over the parapet to inform the real Vincentio that ‘Lucentio’ needed no money from a stranger, as long as his ‘father’ was here. The reactions of Biondello and Tranio were very enjoyable, and Petruchio and Kate withdrew to the bottom of the ramp to watch the fun. The revelations concluded, off they trooped to the feast, except Kate, Petruchio and Grumio. When Kate finally agreed to the kiss, she and Petruchio were about to indulge themselves on the top of the ramp when they noticed Grumio peering at them. They waved him away, and he slunk off to the stairs near us, where he craftily took a mirror out of his pouch, polished it and used it to check up on the loving couple, who by now were well into a serious snog. The audience responded warmly, both to the kiss and to Grumio’s sneaky trick with the mirror. Kate and Petruchio paused for breath (eventually) and left for the feast themselves.

The servants took a few moments to set up the stage with chairs, cushions and chandeliers, and for the first time I was aware that this is Lucentio’s apartments we’re visiting; it’s usually shown as Baptista’s place. One of the servants sat on one of the chairs and it broke! They brought a replacement, so all was well, and with the cast changed into their posh frocks, the final scene began. Kate and Petruchio lounged on cushions near the front of the stage, Hortensio’s widow was on a chair on the far side, while Bianca and Lucentio, as far as I can remember, were on the cushions on the far side. The banter was well done, and the ladies withdrew up the stairs and through the curtain. When the bet was proposed, the servants cleared the chairs and cushions but put a table in the middle of the stage for the money (and drinks). Biondello went through the curtains for the first summons, and while they waited for him they did the speeding-up clapping. He reappeared on the balcony, Bianca-less, and was sent back again for the widow. Again the clapping, again no widow. For Kate’s summoning, the men took no interest, thinking she wouldn’t come, but she was through those curtains like a shot. She held a brief pause, for the men to realise she’d actually turned up, before asking “What is your will, sir, that you send for me?” I always think that Kate must realise there’s something going on – the widow has spotted the same thing – and she’s probably prepared for the call before it arrives. The men were suitably amazed.

She brought the other women out, and we were at the last hurdle. Kate went into the speech promptly this time, and her delivery suggested a woman who was now at ease with herself and the overt position she has in society. She wasn’t downtrodden, she had simply broken free from her old ways of thinking, and her statement of wifely duty was quite straightforward. When she mentioned a husband being “thy lord, thy life” etc., she was looking at the widow, and Hortensio, who was standing beside his new wife, looked a little sheepish at first but then straightened himself up, as if remembering that he was supposed to be all the things that Kate was saying. And although it wasn’t emphasised as such, I noticed that Kate recommends obedience to “his honest will”, implying that there’s no duty to obey a husband’s every whim, but only those directions that are reasonable. Of course, it’s not so easy to handle the comments about women being all soft and cuddly and unsuited to toil when most of us have to go out and work nowadays, nor do those lines apply to the working women of Shakespeare’s time, but the use of Elizabethan costumes did at least allow us to shift perspective at this point and see those lines as part of that culture rather than ours.

The final act, putting her hand on the ground for Petruchio to stand on, was done with great loving, and I sensed an anxiety in the audience (including me) as to what Petruchio would do. He walked over to her slowly, and as he stepped in front of her he knelt down, took her hand up and kissed it, then embraced her with the line “ Why, there’s a wench!” It was a lovely moment, and suggested they would have a happy life together. With no need to go back to the Sly subplot, they could now go into the dance, and we clapped along, very happy with our afternoon. I left the theatre feeling elated, not something that usually happens with this play, and I would happily recommend this production to anyone.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Complete World of Sports (abridged) – July 2012

8/10

By Reed Martin and Austin Tichenor

Directed by Reed Martin and Austin Tichenor

Company: The Reduced Shakespeare Company

Venue: The Hawth, Crawley

Date: Thursday 12th July 2012

This was another fun offering by the Reduced Shakespeare Company. In just under two hours they took us across all seven continents, through eons of time, and mentioned a great number of the many and varied sports played by people on this planet. Of course they missed a few, but then it’s not the winning, it’s the taking part that matters. And they rounded it all off with an Olympish (to avoid trade name disputes with the IOC) finish. Excellent.

The writers and directors were joined by Matt Rippy, and they presented the show in the guise of three American sports analysts; the one who’s played at a reasonably high level but can’t string a coherent sentence together, the intellectual one who knows all sorts of facts about various obscure sports and players (snore), and the eye candy. (Hey, this was their descriptions, don’t blame me.) The back curtain had RSCSN (Reduced Shakespeare Company Sports Network) across it plus several sporting pictures and two doorways. That was pretty much it for the set, although they did have a rope timeline – went all the way from ‘then’ to ‘now’ – and a whiteboard with the various sporting categories on it in rather small letters. The auditorium wasn’t packed tonight (a wet Thursday in Crawley – what do you expect?) but they still managed to spot some sporting stars in the audience; Sue Barker, an American chap I didn’t recognise, and Rasputin. (Rasputin?)

I can’t possibly go through their material in order, so here are the highlights. They took a little time to establish a cricket joke which involved one or other of them falling asleep whenever the word ‘cricket’ was used. Fortunately they know their audience, and the punchline for that sketch involved baseball. A later joke about democracy didn’t fly, and while they tried to help it back into the nest they seemed to lose their way a bit, but made a good recovery. That sketch was poking fun at the clichés used by coaches, but being American we didn’t get any ‘sick as a parrot’ or ‘over the moon’ references. Mind you, an early reference to John Terry as a Neanderthal went down well.

The Australian section involved Matt lying on his back doing an upside down report from the antipodes; I couldn’t hear that bit very well, but the ‘Scottish’ accents for the golfing sketch came across loud and clear. Matt did quite a good Sean Connery, and all was forgiven. The audience participation came in two parts, with a chap near us picked for the urine test section. He did pretty well, even though they were taking the piss in a very literal way! Then three others were selected to join in for the parade of nationalities in funny hats routine, which developed into a bull chasing sequence (it’s complicated). They all did very well, and we happy few (i.e. the audience still in our seats) clapped loudly as they left the stage.

Speaking of ‘we happy few’, there were some rousing sports songs which just happened to fit together nicely for a trio (wasn’t that lucky, as they’d just made them up on the spot!). Of course, danger was never far away when demonstrating so many physical activities, but they were mostly uninjured, or at any rate still able to walk at the end. True, Reed did have sharp objects stuck into him to show how unpleasant bull fighting is, and Austin lost an arm during a vigorous scuffle, but they stitched it back on at Crawley hospital, so no harm done.

The show was divided into four quarters, indicated by the horn sound. One time out was taken for a word from the sponsor, Wetherspoons as I recall. Fortunately their cavalier approach to sponsorship meant that the advert could be more accurate than usual, which we all enjoyed very much. And given their founding mission, it wasn’t too surprising that they included a guide to Shakespearean sporting references.

The pressure mounted in the third quarter as the pinnacle of sporting achievement loomed ever larger on the horizon. They intended to cover all thirty-two(?) sports of the Olympish Games, and of course they were going for a world record time. Would they make it? Would Matt get over his daddy issues to join in? Would Austin’s arm be sewn back on in time? You betcha. These guys are pros. With some slow-motion running and a marvellous demonstration of synchronised drowning, the sporting abridgement event of the decade was finally complete. The only thing remaining was the plug of their London season and then the victory song. Hoo-rah!

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

Heartbreak House – July 2012

8/10  (4th Preview)

By George Bernard Shaw

Directed by Richard Clifford

Venue: Chichester Festival Theatre

Date: Tuesday 10th July 2012

I’d seen Heartbreak House once before, with Rex Harrison as Captain Shotover, and found it deadly dull, so I had no great hopes for this production despite the excellent casting. I was delighted when the laughs came early and came often, and despite the ‘strange’ bits towards the end of each half, I found the production very light and enjoyable, with tremendous performances from everyone. I suspect the director chose to minimise the heavy political references and make this more of a Wildean romp through the dottiness of the British middle classes; if so, it was a good choice, which allowed the humour to come through and made for a much more accessible and enjoyable production.

The set was wonderful. The room used in the first acts had a long back wall, angled slightly, with a central tall window and two sets of double doors out to the garden on either side. At the far left was another door to the Captain’s secret stash of rum, while the door to the rest of the house was at the other end of the wall, and at right angles to it. A small corridor space away was another door which led to the front of the house.

The room was furnished appropriately for the time, though with a Bohemian flavour. The floorboards were slightly purple (or was that just the lighting?) and laid diagonally. They covered a large square area, with a smaller square off to the left for the Captain’s rum door, and these squares were surrounded by a glossy black area with a few leaves scattered here and there; this became the garden area in the final act. The fireplace was front and centre, with side seats and fire irons, and there were chairs and sofas, chests for tables, and a large drawing table under the central window with a Captain’s chair where Shotover did his design work from time to time.

For the final scene, the wall rotated and we lost the doors on either side. The garden area had a drinks trolley thoughtfully provided in front of the terrace, along with several benches and chairs. To the sides were panels which looked ivy-covered, and above all this were the upper windows of the house, lit during the night time scenes. To the left of the stage was a spot light, which may have been part of the stage lighting, or could even have been the Captain’s idea of garden illumination, such was the bohemian nature of the family. The costumes were all period, and absolutely lovely, especially Hesione’s evening dress.

I was reminded of many other plays and styles during the evening. Wilde obviously, especially in the bright, clever things said by the Hushabyes, Lady Utterwood and Randall Utterwood. The preening of the latter and Hector Hushabye, making full use of the imaginary mirror above the fireplace, was very funny, and also reminiscent of some of Wilde’s characters. Othello was mentioned several times within the dialogue, and King Lear had obvious echoes, with the elderly man and his two ‘dangerous’ daughters. And, written only a few years later, the shambolic treatment of invited guests reminded me strongly of Hay Fever. At least we got to know who was who with the staggered arrivals and repeated introductions, a very useful technique. And with such good characterisations, I found I engaged with the people and the situation much more readily than any tub-thumping production could manage. Derek Jacobi was splendid as Captain Shotover, but the whole cast were magnificent, and as this was only the fourth performance I would expect them to be even better in a short while. The only negatives tonight were some chatter from behind and two short bursts of thunderous rain on the roof which made the dialogue hard to hear, even though the actors upped the volume as much as they could. I hope we get quieter weather next time.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

A Soldier In Every Son – July 2012

8/10

By Luis Mario Moncada, translated by Gary Owen

Directed by Roxana Silbert

Joint production  by the RSC and the National Theatre of Mexico

Venue: Swan Theatre

Date: Friday 6th July 2012

One the one hand this is a brilliant new play by Luis Mario Moncada, using some of Shakespeare’s dramatic techniques to tell an epic story of Mexico’s early history while relating it to the present day situation in that country. On the other hand, this is also an amazing romp through many of the scenes of political machination in Will’s various history plays. Human nature is the same everywhere, it would seem, although the long process of translating this play into English and then refining the language to work dramatically, then cutting the full seven hours (I’m not joking) down to less than three may have emphasised the similarity more than intended. Either way, this was really good fun, and I’d be glad to see it again and get more of the detail of the performances, now that I know the story. As with seeing one of Will’s histories for the first time, I could only get the gist; a lot of the finer points just washed over me. And as with a Shakespeare history, I’m aware not to take it literally; still, it was a good introduction to the subject, and it’s whetted my appetite for more.

The set and the costumes created a wonderful fantasy world in which the action unfolded. The base of the stage was coloured blue – water blue – and on top there was a platform on the thrust and three raked ramps at the back. The middle ramp could be lowered to create another entrance, and the platform and ramps were covered in what looked like animal hides. Turned out these were representative of the tree bark scrolls which these pre-Mexican tribes used to record their history, in hieroglyphics. So it was as if the characters in the scrolls had come to life and were acting out the stories in 3D – neat. There was another strip of this tree bark hanging at the back for the video projections, and the floor of the stage was used sometimes as well to show repeating patterns, e.g. wave symbols to show us a lake scene. Mostly the picture at the back showed us the relevant tribal symbols – snake, jaguar or eagle – with the final combined symbol representing the birth of the Aztec empire.

The costumes blended a number of features – Aztec designs of the period,  farthingale skirts from Europe for the women, and colour coding so we would know which tribe we were dealing with. This was very useful, as the characters’ names were not only difficult to pronounce (even for the Mexican actors), they were also difficult for our unaccustomed ears to hear and recognise. The costumes also showed a fair bit of flesh; apparently the male actors had all opted for regular workouts when they realised this.

The story told us of the kings of two main tribes around a lake in Mexico, and their attempts to keep or gain power. Also in the mix were a group of outsiders, the Aztecs, looked down on by the others but ferocious fighters who hired themselves out to the other tribes as soldiers. With some nifty manoeuvring that wouldn’t have been out of place in Richard III, Itzcoatl (Brian Ferguson) ended up as king of the Aztecs and part of a three-headed kingdom, along with Nezahualcoyotl (Alex Waldmann) and Tacuba (Marco Antonio Garcia). In this culture, dying was seen as a goal to be sought after, so although it was a more downbeat ending than we expected, the play finished with the ritual sacrifice of Ohtonqui, son of Quimalpopoca the previous king of the Aztecs. (You see our difficulty with the names?) As with the princes in the tower, Itzcoatl was keen to see off this potential rival for his throne, but fortunately for him this culture had a socially acceptable form of murder to help him achieve his goal.

Apart from spotting the Shakespeare echoes, we enjoyed the humour enormously. Tezozomoc (John Stahl) had a lovely rant at his daughter Tecpa (Susie Trayling), whose arrogance and pride had put the kibosh on yet another marriage. Strong language is fine with us, as long as it knows its place, and this string of meaty oaths was entirely appropriate and very funny. One of the best bits was the casting of Alex Waldmann as both father and son characters; when Itzcoatl commented on the similarity, the audience laughed, and he gave a helpless shrug – so many parts, so few actors.

Even though it was difficult to follow, and the strong accents of the Mexican actors took a while to get used to, this was very enjoyable performance, though sadly one the world has yet to become aware of; the audience was on the sparse side, so we had to applaud even louder to make up for the empty seats. I did think the title of the play was a bit off-putting; even though it’s a line from the play describing the Aztec attitude to warfare, it suggested a much grimmer production than was the case. Don’t know what they could change it to, but hopefully they can get better attendances for the rest of the run.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Sunshine Boys – June 2012

8/10

By Neil Simon

Directed by Thea Sharrock

Venue: Savoy Theatre

Date: Saturday 23rd June 2012

This was great fun. Neil Simon is a master craftsman, and this play is one of his best, judging by this production. The casting worked really well, and it looked like they were having nearly as much fun as we were. The audience were on their feet at the end – we joined in too – so the enjoyment was universal.

The play is set in the 1970s; Adam Levy not only gave a very good performance as Ben Silverman, the nephew and agent of Willie Clark, he also modelled a selection of 1970s suits for the ambitious young businessman, and looked very good in them as well. The play was mainly set in Willie’s hotel suite; he was a long-term resident, and had been demoted from a five room suite to three, but it still looked pretty spacious to me. To the right was the kitchen ‘alcove’, screened off with a curtain. To the left were the big windows, with exits for the bedroom and bathroom, and centre back was the main door, with the usual array of security locks (this is New York after all). The furniture was shabby, and reflected the life of an old man who didn’t look after himself too well. The only other set was the studio where the duo were attempting to record their famous doctor/taxman sketch. Easily contained within the walls of the suite, there were glittery curtains all round, and a doctor’s consulting room in the middle, with a door on the left, table and chairs in the middle, a flipchart to the right, a skeleton to the left, and not much else.

The story concerns two old comedians who used to have a top comedy act, Clark (Danny DeVito) and Lewis (Richard Griffiths). After Lewis’s abrupt retirement eleven or twelve years ago, the pair haven’t spoken to each other, but now a TV company wants to record their famous sketch as part of a documentary charting the history of comedy performance. As Willie’s agent, Ben was keen to get them back together again, and despite Willie’s complaints and hostility, he does finally agree to a rehearsal. The relationship between the two men then became the central theme of the play, and along with the laughs I could see glimpses of the heartache as well. It was clear that Willie had been grieving for the loss of his career all those years ago, when he didn’t feel like retiring, while Al Lewis had simply had enough.

The humour was rich and varied; most of it was in the dialogue, which these two stars delivered with impeccable timing. There was also a lot of visual stuff too, like the TV on a trolley which was moved too far so the plug came out of the socket. When Willie phoned the concierge to complain, he realised what he’d done but didn’t admit it, claiming he would fix it himself. Then there was the bit during the rehearsal scene where they were putting the furniture into place to represent the set. They kept changing each other’s work, until finally Willie leaves Al to do it himself. The resolution to this argument was very funny, involving the slight movement of a chair.

I also enjoyed the performance of Johnnie Fiori as the nurse in the final scene, when Willie was recuperating from his heart attack. She was feisty and funny, and although I couldn’t hear all of her lines, I got the gist. The whole production worked really well, and I’m glad we managed to squeeze this one in.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Physicists – June 2012

6/10

By Friedrich Dürrenmatt, in a new version by Jack Thorne

Directed by Josie Rourke

Venue: Donmar Theatre

Date: Thursday 21st June 2012

I’m wary of European writing; it tends to the obscure and dull, and while this was undoubtedly a very funny play, it did have its low points for me, superb performances notwithstanding. Three physicists are housed in an asylum; two of them are convinced they’re Albert Einstein and Isaac Newton, while the third actually is Johann Wilhelm Möbius who’s gone mad simply through being a physicist. With two of their nurses dead, and the public prosecutor getting restless, what will happen to the three men? And what has all this got to do with the debate about the responsibility of scientists in the modern world?

The set was almost completely white. The back wall was a mass of doors; the three main doors were helpfully numbered 1, 2 and 3, while the rest of the space was filled with similar doors, some on their sides to fit in the gaps. There were two stubs of brick wall on either side, with megaphone speakers high up – these were never used. Above it all were serried ranks of institutional lights, four rows of five. A table and chair were placed towards the back of the stage and in front of the middle door, while a 60s style armchair with a high curving back, and a matching footstool were on our left. Front right was another round table with a carved wooden chair, all in white. There was a muted green wastepaper basket by the table, a small light on it, and a table and light over by the armchair. The only splashes of colour were the bowl of red apples on this round table – very vivid in this setting – and a huge portrait leaning against the right hand wall. It showed an older man with wire rimmed glasses and a white moustache. The painting also had a hidden drinks cupboard.

The play began in the dark. When the lights went up, a body was lying on the stage in front of us, the body of an attractive blond in a nurse’s uniform. She was clearly dead, and the others present revealed themselves to be a police inspector, his assistants – one medical, one photographical – and a very stern senior nurse for whom all sorts of pleasure were definitely forbidden! They went through the procedures for dealing with a dead body, finally removing the corpse altogether, leaving only a red taped line to show where she had been, and there was a lot of humour all through this section. The inspector then met Newton, who also kept us entertained for a while with his intelligent and barbed comments. The ‘perpetrator’ of the murder, Albert Einstein, was unavailable at this point, though the strains of his violin playing were just discernible from behind the wall; this was his way of calming down. Newton had also murdered his nurse some three months earlier, and his residency in an insane asylum had obviously provided the perfect antidote to arrest and a different form of imprisonment.

The inspector’s investigation petered out after a chat with the institution’s founder and chief psychiatrist Dr von Zahnd, played by Sophie Thompson, recently a marvellous Mrs Hardcastle in She Stoops To Conquer at the National. Her portrayal of Dr von Zahnd involved a hump that would not have disgraced the most outrageous Richard III, and her shambling gait, pale face and clinical manner made me think of a cross between Ygor and Baron Frankenstein. She must win awards for these performances, surely! Her explanations for the murders and assurances that it wouldn’t happen again – the only other physicist left in this part of the institution, Möbius, was entirely harmless – appeared to satisfy the inspector, and the geniuses were left alone to their madness.

The first half culminated in the murder of another nurse, this time Möbius’s, following a visit from his ex-wife and their sons. She had remarried, and was heading off to some distant islands in the Pacific with her new husband, who was a missionary. She wanted to say goodbye before she left for good, and the stress of this news seemed to affect Möbius badly. He threw a fit of madness, throwing off his clothes, pouring body lotion all over himself, and generally behaving badly. His ex was glad to leave, and with Dr von Zahnd’s reassurance that Möbius would still be cared for at this expensive facility, she left with a clear conscience.

Möbius’s nurse was well aware that he’d been faking his madness, and now she wanted to marry him and help him achieve the greatness she knew he deserved. This prospect was too horrific for him and so he strangled her with her own belt, leaving her body in almost exactly the same position as the first body we saw, as outlined by one of the policemen in red tape. The second half therefore started in a similar way to the first, with a dead body on the floor (played by the same actress) and the police beginning their investigation. At least the inspector now knew where the brandy was concealed.

After this second body was cleared away, the play moved into a different phase, with male security guards, sorry, nurses, arriving to replace the women – mind you, there was only one female nurse left alive. These men set up the dinner table for the three inmates and left them to it, allowing us to hear their private conversation. It turned out that Einstein and Newton were, indeed, faking it, each having been sent to the asylum by their government to observe Möbius and learn what they could about his scientific discoveries. Newton, himself a respected physicist, was from a totalitarian country, while Einstein, another physicist in disguise, was from a more democratic country, but one where scientists had very little real power. The rest of the play was largely a debate about the responsibility of scientists for the information they discovered, and frankly this bit was rather dull. There was a final twist, not entirely unexpected, which made the whole debate irrelevant, and that was that.

I enjoyed much of this play, and the performances were terrific, but the style and theme weren’t to my taste. I find this kind of discussion too ethereal, lacking pragmatism, as if going over and over these issues can somehow resolve them. The debate itself is valid and can be interesting, but I prefer to be connected to it through caring about the characters, which didn’t happen here. Still a good production, though, and an interesting choice from the new artistic director.

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me

The Producers – June 2012

8/10

By Mel Brooks, book by Mel Brooks and Thomas Meehan

Directed by Nikolai Foster

GSA Graduate Company

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Monday 18th June 2012

Steve and I had only seen the film of The Producers up to this point, so I was keen to see what the GSA would do this year following the excellent Fiddler last time. I wasn’t disappointed. It took me a little while to warm up to Max, but once Leo came along and their plot got started, I was completely hooked. The writing is superb, with lots of humour and some marvellous songs, including a Fiddler pastiche, a negro spiritual and many others.

I won’t go into the story; it’s different from the film, but still near enough for jazz, as my Dad used to say. The cast did another excellent job, changing from old dears to Nazi pigeons (had to be seen to be believed), office workhorses to dancing Nazis. One of the men was really disappointed to find he wasn’t allowed to be a showgirl, and in truth he did look stunning in his spangly red costume, but it was not to be.

There was a New York cityscape at the back, with a girder balcony in front of it. Underneath were central double doors (most of the time) which were mainly the entrance to Max’s office, but moonlighted occasionally for other locations. To emphasise the theatrical nature of the musical, the rest of the sets were created from big theatre hampers that they wheeled around. These hampers stored props, became desks, opened up to reveal posters, etc. – very versatile. I loved the looser feel these gave to the show, and I’m sure they made the scene changes much easier.

For the scenes with Roger de Bris, the director, a gold curtain swept across the stage, with only some stairs peeking through, while the whole stage was transformed again for the Springtime For Hitler performance, looking altogether more glamorous. We didn’t get to see the reactions of Max and Leo during the show, but the post-show trauma song, Where Did We Go Right?, was hilarious.

The individual performances were all good. Craig Golding was very strong as Roger de Bris, taking over the lead role of Hitler at the drop of a hat. Rob Eyles, who played his assistant Carmen, really caught our eye; his spot-on camp bitch performance almost stole the show at times. Brittany Field did well with the tall gorgeous blond Swedish character, but let’s face it, these bimbo roles are not the best parts that Mel Brooks has ever written.

Max Bialystock was played by Hans Rye, and he did remarkably well in such a tough role. Not only was he competing with the memory of Zero Mostel, he was also playing much older than he is, and given that musical performers have to take good care of their bodies, he was never going to look like a totally dissipated has-been just by turning up. He had to act the part instead, and after a few scenes I was happy to go along with his performance. He had me hooked long before his big number, Betrayed, which was excellent.

Rob Houchen may have had it slightly easier as Leopold Bloom, since that character can be younger than Max, but he was up against a master of nervousness in Gene Wilder. Even so, he managed to establish his own performance and maintained it superbly, with some of the funniest business of the evening. His singing and dancing were great too, while the standard of the whole cast was excellent. Good luck to everyone with their careers.

My final mention has to be those Nazi pigeons. Operated by the female members of the cast, they flew around, perched everywhere, sang a rousing song, gave Nazi salutes (with the armbands, too) and generally stole the show. (Never work with animals, puppets, animal puppets …… )

© 2012 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me