Attempts On Her Life – May 2007

3/10

By: Martin Crimp

Directed by: Katie Mitchell + company

Venue: Lyttelton Theatre

Date: Thursday 10th May 2007

This was dreadful. Not all the way through, but it’s an hour and three quarters I’ll never have back again.

The performance style was based on modern media. The actors didn’t play specific characters, instead they morphed in and out of various roles, as well as moving cameras and lights around, filming other actors, then becoming the focus of the cameras themselves. There was a huge screen lowered down so the audience could see what was being filmed, intercut with footage shot previously and with pictures layered and superimposed. All very technical, but to what end?

The general idea seemed to be to look at the role of women in our media-driven society, and particularly issues around women committing suicide. There was no specific woman – it’s any woman. There’s a good section looking at the use of women as sexual objects of desire in advertising, in this case, advertising a car. The advert (in Russian?) was translated into English, so we could get the humour. At the end, the usual caveats are scrolled across the screen, and the combination of these over pictures of a sexy woman, make it clear that we’re not meant to read the words – it’s the advertising equivalent of small print.

Another good part was the Abba imitation – the style is as for one of their Eighties’ hits, but the words are much tougher. The police interrogation sketch didn’t work so well for me – there have been so many comedy send-ups, never mind Life On Mars, that I found most of it just boring. There was one good line, though, when the coppers are pushing this guy to sign his statement, and he says he hasn’t got a pen.

Apart from that, I enjoyed the Newsnight Review sketch, with recognisable imitations of regular participants, e.g. Germaine Greer. Otherwise, I could barely get through the turgid stuff that was passing for a theatrical performance. No criticism of the actors is intended, even though they participated in the staging. I just didn’t find this performance style remotely engaging, in fact, quite the reverse. The use of cameras, the screen, mikes for the actors, etc., meant the whole piece was distanced from the audience – we might as well have watched a film, and the actors might as well have been acting in an empty theatre for all the exchange that was going on between us.

The opening section showed a bit of promise. The prison doors of the stage curtain creaked open to reveal a vast open space, filled with the cameras, etc that took such a central role later on. All the cast are milling around, and finally come forward to talk through some ideas about a woman, like a group of creatives at an advertising agency. There are a few good lines, but mostly, it’s a jumble, and not at all clear where it’s going. However, I stuck with it (unlike one gentleman behind us), and, sadly, was disappointed. The chorus line effect was repeated at the end, only in an even more incoherent fashion, though as I’d pretty much lost interest by this time, I really didn’t care.

With no characters, plot or anything resembling a play taking place on stage, it was impossible to get involved in these performances or any of the issues raised. The distancing effects previously mentioned added to that, and I actually felt disrespected as an audience member, and increasingly irrelevant. For the first time, I chose not to applaud at the end. I will go a long way to avoid seeing anything this banal again.

© 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

The Last Confession – May 2007

8/10

By: Roger Crane

Directed by: David Jones

Venue: Chichester Festival Theatre

Date: Thursday 3rd May 2007

This is a world premiere of the first produced play by a New York lawyer in his fifties. It has seventeen speaking parts, only one double, and has taken ten years to be staged. It was an amazing debut, a fine play, and also proves the Chichester Festival Theatre management are still willing to take risks.

We attended a pre-show talk by the author, which was very informative, and entertaining, although I didn’t manage to hear everything. I’m hoping to eventually download their podcast to re-hear it all, but for now I’ll just mention that it was very funny – he has a good sense of humour – and didn’t give anything away about the plot, apart from suggesting that there’s a twist. Apparently someone had been coming on in a different costume at the end, and people weren’t recognising who he was, so now he comes on in the same costume, and people get it, whatever “it” is. Roger also stressed that he would be available at the end of the performance tonight, and positively encouraged us to come up and tell him how it went. We did so, and he kindly signed our copy of the play text. Wonderful. Now for the play itself.

The play tells the story of the year of the three Popes, as seen by insiders in the Vatican. It’s a story of the power struggle within the Catholic hierarchy (not that different from power struggles anywhere, it must be said), but heightened by the possibility that a Pope has been bumped off to make way for a more malleable or even reactionary pontiff, one who will unravel the gains made by the liberal reformers of recent years. We see the developments through the eyes of Cardinal Benelli, played by David Suchet, who is making his final confession to a monk/priest, and insists on going over the sad events of 1978. He appears to be confessing to killing the emissary of God, but experienced theatregoers such as ourselves take this sort of thing with a large chunk of salt, and don’t assume it’s literally true. (One of these days it will – won’t we be surprised!)

Benelli himself rejects being elected as Pope once Paul dies, and instead engineers the election of Luciani, who takes the name John Paul I. He is a saintly man, more Christ-like than anyone else in the play, or even in the entire Vatican, for that matter. His ideas shock the Curia, the Vatican establishment, and he even plans to replace many of those in positions of power. It is as these plans are being made that the Pope is found dead, in bed, with a heart attack being declared to be the cause of death. Benelli insists on an investigation, but it soon becomes clear that it’s just a superficial attempt to allay public suspicions. No autopsy is done, and there’s a clear possibility that the Pope may have been denied his medicine at a crucial time. In any case, murder cannot be proved, and cannot be ruled out.

That’s one of the joys of this play. It’s good at presenting the facts as far as they are known, with some reasonably inferred glosses, but leaves us entirely to make up our own minds. However, it’s clear Cardinal Benelli’s sense of guilt relates to his manoeuvring Luciani into the Papacy, to whose pressures he then succumbed. We then have the delight of seeing the various political groupings within the Cardinals locking horns over John Paul’s successor, and eventually compromising on the first non-Italian Pope for 500 years, John Paul II. Benelli has lost his chance to be Pope.

There is so much material in this play that it takes a while to absorb a lot of the details. The characters of the various Cardinals are beautifully sketched in – each has their own agenda, and to an extent they overlap, but I felt that dissension and rivalry could burst out anywhere, at any time, over the slightest thing. There was no serious commitment to serving God in any of them, other than Luciani. The Catholic religion was merely the product the Church was selling that year; given time, they might have moved into many other areas, as Marcinkus was doing with the Vatican Bank. Roger Crane mentioned that one senior Church Official, who read his play, considered that he was trying to bring down the Catholic Church. I certainly didn’t get that impression from this production, but in any case, he couldn’t do nearly as good a job as the people in charge of it are doing.

Now for the details. The set was all cages – right angles of iron bars which could be moved around easily to create offices, open spaces, etc. They made the Vatican seem like a prison – heavily fortified, an effect referred to in the text when someone mentions the Pope as being a prisoner in his own apartments. The desks and chairs, etc, were fairly plain, and costumes were naturally based on actual designs – I’m still not sure why some cardinals wear red, and some wear black trimmed with red – perhaps my resident Catholic will enlighten me. (Speaking of which, he gave me a very useful run down of the three Popes storyline before the off, which came in very handy as I didn’t have time to read the program notes beforehand.) [P.S. no, he doesn’t know why there are different colour schemes either.]

Performances. David Suchet was excellent, as always. He oozed power and intelligence, reminding me a bit of the Robert Maxwell portrayal by Michael Pennington (not that weird, we just haven’t seen David Suchet’s version yet (on TV)). Maxwell was the sort of person who might happily have made someone into a Pope, too. Michael Jayston as the confessor had a more difficult job, as he mainly seemed to be devil’s advocate (sorry) to Benelli within the structure of the play, to get him to expand on his views. His character develops in unexpected ways, however, and I thoroughly enjoyed seeing him on stage again.

Luciani (Richard O’Callaghan) was superb. His simplicity and strength made the piece work. Roger Crane made some reference to the question of how the Christian churches would react if Christ were to return, and that he feels his play addresses that issue. It certainly does, as Luciani is as close to Christ as you’re likely to get in the upper strata of any major church nowadays. I felt he was a lamb to the slaughter fairly early on, though it was good to see him standing up to the lions and doing a bit of roaring himself. Of the other cardinals, Baggio and Felici made the most impression, although that’s not to diminish my appreciation of the others. Baggio (Bruce Purchase) was the most blunt, and the only one to openly defy the new Pope. Felici (Charles Kay) was more suave, a real politician, who had seen much over the years and learned how to finesse each opportunity to his, or rather the Church’s, greatest advantage.

One final mention for Sister Vincenza (Maroussia Frank), a stroppy nun who really knows how to serve, but doesn’t see any need to soften the blow.

Finally, I must just emphasise how entertaining this was. Often funny, it was also tense, gripping and invariably powerful. The insights into human nature were accurate, and the drama built to a very satisfactory conclusion, in the sense that we knew when it was finished, and felt complete, rather than we thought it was a happy outcome for all concerned. Life’s like that.

I thoroughly enjoyed the evening and would happily see this play again. Hopefully other managements will be courageous enough to stage it, now they know it’s a hit.

© 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

Mistaken …. Annie Besant In India – April 2007

Annie Besant

Image via Wikipedia

5/10

By: Rukhsana Ahmad

Directed by: Chris Banfield

Venue: Yvonne Arnaud Theatre

Date: Thursday 26th April 2007

This was only the second performance of this play, and it became clear early on that a fair bit of work is still needed, even once the performances bed down. The subject is interesting, but the play itself lacks some coherence, and could do with more humour. The performances came across as lacking confidence for the most part, but there was still enough enjoyable material to suggest that, with revision, this could become a very watchable play.

The action is basically split into two sections, covering Annie’s experiences in India in 1916 and then in 1919, with some later events tacked on. Given that she seems to be largely forgotten now, it might have been helpful to have filled in her background more, such as her involvement in the match workers strike, and her relationship with her husband and children. However, we still get to see some momentous occasions, such as meetings with Ghandi, and her support of the young man who became Krishnamurti. With such a rich life, the problem must be what to concentrate on so that the audience can get home before midnight!

The author uses a narrator, or storyteller, to provide us with a structure. She reflects back to her time with Annie Besant (a fictional storyline), and this gives us a window on the past. (This narrator is played by two women – the storyteller who stayed to one side and linked some of the scenes, and the young woman who enters the play and meets Annie in person.) We see Annie as an already established figure within Theosophy and the Indian Home Rule movement. She regards herself as Indian, and is convinced that India’s future lies in a close relationship with Britain – Home Rule within a Commonwealth, rather than Independence. We see her increasing isolation as she disagrees more and more with the choices made by the other Indian leaders, such as Ghandi and Nehru. And we also see Krishnamurti’s split from the Theosophical Society, which she initially rejects, but then comes to accept – why identify someone as special, gifted, and destined to lead people spiritually, then not trust his choices? While he travels the world, teaching, she languishes back in India, waiting for his return, and finally dies in 1933.

The main problem I found was purely technical – many of the cast did not deliver their lines clearly enough. Reading the play text, I suspect I lost about half of what was going on – it is so important for actors to project clearly. This was not true of everyone – on the whole I heard Annie fairly well throughout, and Krishna was usually clear, but the others needed to become stronger in their delivery – the storyteller was almost conversational in volume, and as she was located in the far corner of the stage, that made it very hard to hear her.

Secondly, there were some confusing aspects of the play. In one scene, after Annie is involved in inciting those attending a rally to riot, we see her on the ground, where Krishna finds her. She seems to be confused, rambling, doesn’t know who Krishna is, etc. Shortly afterwards, she’s steered into a meeting with the Governor of Madras, to be sent to prison as a terrorist (there is a war on, after all), and she seems clear and focused. I couldn’t easily see how these scenes related to one another. Had she made a remarkable recovery? Was she losing her mind? Why did Krishna appear to be taking her home and then leave her? Was it a dream? There was too much confusion in what was meant, so although it was possible to ignore that bit and move on with the rest of the action, it left a niggling doubt about how the information was being presented, especially in terms of the timeline.

In the final scene, after Annie’s death, as the storyteller and her character in the play are discussing the event, they express regret at not telling her the truth. What truth? I assumed it was to do with Krishnamurti not coming back, but it’s not clear, and left me with an unfinished feeling at the end.

The other main problem I experienced was the dullness of the piece. There is one lovely piece of humour, when Sidra, the character of the storyteller, starts to explain a spiritual term to Krishna’s father, and he explodes with anger, complaining that “Every second person thinks he’s a swami!” It got across the situation much better than several pages of exposition. Unfortunately, this was the only laugh all evening, and the whole piece felt rather dreary and worthy, like a drama-documentary. More humour would make it more accessible, especially as truly spiritual people are usually full of humour, in my experience.

Mind you, Annie herself comes across as a dour campaigner, so perhaps this play is simply reflecting her personality accurately. I was left at the end not knowing whether the play was a celebration of the life of an amazing woman who influenced Indian political thought and nurtured its educational system, but who ultimately fell into disrepute and became a forgotten heroine, or whether it was a critique of her work, pointing out her mistakes, while trying to remember her in some way. The title suggests the latter, though the elements of the play don’t entirely support that conclusion.

All in all, I was happy enough that I’d seen it, and would be willing to see it again, once the initial run has sorted out the performance issues.

© 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

September Tide – April 2007

2/10

By: Daphne Du Maurier, adapted by Mark Rayment

Directed by: Ian Dickens

Venue: Connaught Theatre

Date: Tuesday 17th April 2007

Oh dear, this was a dismal evening for the usually reliable Connaught. The play concerns a young (in his 30s) artist, who marries the daughter, and falls in love with the mother. Eventually he informs her of this, they have one night alone together because a tremendous storm stops the daughter from getting back to the house (this is Cornwall, after all), and then she tells him he must leave for all their sakes, and he does. Ho hum. It may be the original play has more to it (and I’ve no idea why an existing play should need an adapter, anyway), but this version was decidedly slight and humdrum. Very Mills and Boon (and that may be an insult to Mills and Boon, I’ve no idea). The cast did their best, but there wasn’t much give in the text, so sadly the evening was not that enjoyable.

Kate O’Mara was too old to play the mother convincingly, and there was no psychological depth to any of the characters, at least none that I could see. Admittedly I did nod off a few times, but that’s partly because there was so little going on. Last night’s performance didn’t lose its grip for a second, so tonight I have to assume that it was the play rather than me.

© 2007 Sheila Evans at ilovetheatre.me