Titus Andronicus - Review

Swan Theatre, Stratford upon Avon

****

Written by William Shakespeare

Directed by Max Webster

Natey Jones takes a chainsaw to Simon Russell Beale's hand

It is a rare treat that sees a theatrical giant step up to the role of Titus Andronicus, Shakespeare's tragedy that boasts the Bard's highest body count. So it is that a one-handed Simon Russell Beale dons his chef’s apron to lead us through Max Webster’s modern take on the tale. Jet fighters roar overhead in the mise-en-scene suggesting that this is a turbulent Rome at war with the Goths and set is to become the arena for revenge -fuelled murder and mayhem.

Beale offers up one of the most sensitively nuanced takes on the noble general, delivering perfectly pitched pathos amidst the carnage, while also understanding the comedic themes that underscore the play. Late in the play, when his Titus greets Wendy Kweh’s Tamora masked up as the spirit of Revenge, Beale milks the moment exquisitely – we know the violence that is about to be unleashed and yet it is impossible not to grin at the charade being played out on stage. Beale equally imbues Titus’ tragic moments – notably manifest if his love for his grievously injured daughter Lavinia (Letty Thomas) – with a powerful emotional depth

Natey Jones’s Aaron is the production’s stand-out supporting performance. The energy in his evilness is palpable, with his Act 5 confessional monologue delivered as a hymn to barbarity. Jones inhabits the verse with a gripping excitement that makes for a rollercoaster ride of Shakespearean delight.

The evening’s other cracking performance is from Kweh who captures Tamora’s smouldering and insatiable sexuality with a fiercely brutal streak of the harshest cruelty. *SPOILER ALERT* In the final act, asTamora learns that the pasty that she is eating includes her sons' flesh, that Webster has her return for a second helping only underscores her fierce defiance.

There is exquisite pathos too from Letty Thomas whose Lavinia suffers the most unspeakable degradation.  For reasons not explained Titus’ brother Marcus Andronicus is gender-swapped to Marcia, played by Emma Fielding. In the scene in the woods that sees Lavinia discovered by her aunt uncle following her rape and mutilation, the scene's usual powerful tenderness seemed blunted in this iteration.   

There is a touch of Hollywood to Webster’s highly mechanised and stylised violence. Hooks descend from gantries and while the stabbings may all be suggested with murderer and victim often metres apart on stage, strobe lighting and gallons of stage-blood make for a gloriously horrific ambience. Matthew Herbert’s music that accompanies moments of carefully choreographed movement, adds to the evening’s compelling ghastliness. The blood flows so copiously in this production that the actors occasionally slip on the Swan’s sanguine soaked thrust. Audience members in the stalls’ front splash-zone seats are offered protective waterproofs, sparing them from soggy bottoms during the finale’s blood-soaked bake off.

A good Titus Andronicus should offer up an evening of entertaining violence that also draws out the story’s vicious misogyny and unspeakable cruelty. Simon Russell Beale serves up a mouth-watering performance.

Runs until 7th June

Photo credit: Max Brenner

The Ugly Stepsister - Review

****

Written and directed by Emilie Blichfeldt

105 mins - 2025

Certificate 18

Lea Myren gets her nose fixed in The Ugly Stepsister

The Ugly Stepsister is a charmingly horrific take on Cinderella, largely based on the premise that physical beauty equates to wealth. Beautifully acted, the movie is a Polish/Swedish/Norwegian collaboration that is set in a fairytale world of princes on horseback and castles in the snow.

Written and directed by Emilie Blichfeldt the film cleverly interweaves aspects of the classic story, contrasting the radiant beauty of Agnes, the story’s ultimate Cinderella with the uglier features of her stepsister Elvira, this fable’s key protagonist.  Blichfeldt portrays a bleak world however, where beauty is consistently shown to be a veneer that masks a moral vacuum, while the humble Elvira’s striving for physical perfection, whilst doomed, starts from a position of personal principle. Principles it is fair to say, that she sheds (together with her toes, well how else is a girl gonna fit into that glass slipper?) as the narrative unfolds.

Lea Myren scoops the honours as the uglier of the step-siblings, while the deliciously named Thea Sofie Loch Næss is Agnes. The men are mostly chauvinist pigs, with The Ugly Stepsister proving a fabulous fusion of romance, gore and unashamedly raunchy sex. And when a horror flick goes so far as to include In The Hall Of The Mountain King from Peer Gynt at the Prince’s Ball, what's not to love?

Classy, toe-curling entertainment.

On general release

Photo credit: Marcel Zyskind

Bob Dylan - Rough and Rowdy Ways - Review

Powers Auditorium, Youngstown

*****

Bob Dylan and his well-oiled machine are touring across the Midwest, sometimes playing a different city the next night nonstop with no breaks. An impressive feat for any band but with Dylan at nearly 84, it’s a feat that is more than noteworthy.

The performance was phoneless, which saw everyone have their phones locked away in pouches, which was fantastic although next time be sure to wear a watch if you’re planning on queuing for the bar and the start time is approaching. I bailed from the queue after the 10 min warning, to leave my plus-one with the vital task of bringing the refreshments. Luckily, she arrived just as the lights went down!

As the name of the tour suggests, without much pomp and ceremony, Bob and the band took to the stage and assumed their positions, standing ovations throughout as the crowd awaited the man they came to see. No introduction necessary, nor even an acknowledgement of the audience, (This is Dylan after all, and the tour is ‘Rough and Rowdy’. If you want cuddly acknowledgment from a legend, there’s always Taylor Swifts’s ‘Era’s Tour’)  just straight into it starting with his back to the audience as he and the band played ‘I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight,’ playing guitar with the band to get started, and once warmed up, turning around to sing and play the piano.

Unsurprisingly, the show consisted mainly of songs from the Rough And Rowdy Ways album. I was expecting maybe to hear one or two at most of the old songs but was pleasantly surprised by the various inclusions, all stripped and rearranged to suit the theme of the show. At one point I turned to my plus-one saying “you know this one”. She looked blank, to which I added ‘It Ain’t Me Babe’. The song was barely recognisable both in arrangement and Bob’s delivery, but honestly I loved every minute of it! If you came expecting what was recorded all those decades ago, you’d be misguided in your hopes and simultaneously disappointed. In such a case, however, may I perhaps recommend a movie with Timothée Chalamet, or if that doesn’t suit, perhaps build a time machine! 

What one sees at this show is a legend performing on his own terms, with a group of talented musicians, playing a selection in their chosen style much in line with Dylan’s album. And if you came with any other expectations, then I guess that’s your problem. Upon reading other reviews of the tour, I noted that they predominantly fell into one of three categories:

1. Seasoned Dylan fans who know exactly what to expect and are happy to pay their money.

2. Non seasoned Dylan fans, both young and old that came with the mindset to experience the music and see a legend perform live.

3. The type of fan that would have just as well rocked up to a John Lennon Concert in the 70s expecting ‘mop tops’ and A Hard Day’s Night… To quote the man “I’ve grown up a bit since then, obviously you haven’t.”

I fall into category 2, a lifelong fan, simply grateful for the opportunity to see the legend while he’s living, and luckily for everyone, it seemed that over 90% of the Powers Auditorium fell into groups 1 or 2. When traveling up to the venue a thought occurred, and this was later confirmed during the performance: This wasn’t just a show. It was part musical performance and part exhibition, in that (given this was my first time seeing the man,) you were seeing a sort of mythical creature, in the flesh, performing in a theatre in the middle of Youngstown, Ohio.

Another one of the rearranged versions, and a personal highlight for me was that of ‘Desolation Row,’ less folksy acoustic, more stripped back and gritty & bluesy with a punchy rhythmic muted strumming, much like a locomotive driving the song along. I didn’t notice what the song was until a few lines into the first verse, such was the rearrangement but when I (and other audience members) clocked on, it sent shivers and got a roaring crowd response.

Another moment which the crowd responded with a rapturous appreciation and love, was when Bob pulled out the harmonica towards the end of the set during Every Grain Of Sand. It was a beautiful and special moment, even had a couple dancing in the outer aisle by the exit. A moving number that as it reached its conclusion and the band finished playing, saw Dylan step up to centre stage, in front of the piano briefly, to receive the standing ovation from the grateful crowd. 

He then stepped back to the back of the stage in a line with his band, momentarily under the orange glow of the purposely designed minimalistic set lights; before abruptly cutting the lights, to show a blue lighted outlined silhouette of the players with Dylan in the centre amidst a black backdrop for just a few seconds. Then blackout, and just like that it was over. The players exited the stage with the same lack of razzle-dazzle that marked their entrance. No pomp, ceremony, nor encore, yet plenty of fanfare as the crowd gave their applause.

As the well-oiled albeit rough and rowdy machine packed up after another night on the road, the evening for Dylan and his band will have been one of countless stops across America. But to the folks present, it was without question a special night of music from a legend.

Rough and rowdy? Of course (I mean at 83 what would you expect). A night and performance to remember? Most certainly! The tour is shortly to join Willie Nelson for the Outlaw Music Festival, where both legends will both be out on the road again… 

5 Stars*                

*Unless you were stupid/misguided enough to be expecting an 83-year-old to be a Timothée Chalamet-esque Bob from yesteryear, performing all the hits. In which case, you probably left disappointed. Don’t worry though, I’m sure Chalamet will be streaming soon.

Reviewed by Josh Kemp

Midnight Cowboy - Review

Southwark Playhouse, London

**

Music & lyrics by Francis'EG' White

Book by Bryony Lavery

Based on the book by James Leo Herlihy

Directed and choreographed by Nick Winston

Max Bowden and Paul Jacob French

James Leo Herlihy’s 1965 novel Midnight Cowboy presented a bleak take on America. A land of hustle and exploitation that saw an unlikely friendship develop between Texan cowboy Joe Buck and the polio-riddled New Yorker Rico Rizzo, both men desperately lonely souls and each in pursuit of their own American dream. Buck by making his fortune as a stud and Rizzo with his dreams of reaching the sunshine state of Florida. John Schlesinger directed the triple Oscar-winning movie in 1969 and now Herlihy's famed fable has been reduced to a musical by Bryony Lavery and Francis 'EG' White. 

Paul Jacob French as Joe Buck possesses the required statuesque attractiveness - but is not allowed to come close to exploring the complexities of his character. Max Bowden’s Rizzo is a more rounded construction. Bowden goes some way to unlocking the crippled man’s tragic destitution in a sensitive interpretation that is filled with pathos. Both leads are also given a solo chance at the same number. Bowden wraps up the first half with the haunting Don’t Give Up On Me Now, as French gets his chops around the song to close the show. The tune was worth a repeat as it proved the evening’s only decent new composition.

In a moment of prematurely tantalising delight the show's musical money-shot, Harry Nilsson's Grammy-winner Everybody's Talkin', taken from the movie, was sung by French as the evening's prologue, but from then on it was downhill. To be fair though, the show also included frequent nods to the movie's haunting motif of a melody that had been scored by John Barry - a welcome respite as it transpired, from much of White’s mediocre new music. As a side comment, although the legendary lyricist Don Black had nothing to do with Midnight Cowboy, to see him in the audience at this musical's press night forged a strong connection with Barry, a man with whom Black had penned numerous movie classics.

Lavery’s book does not match Herlihy’s original and when one considers how much of the Midnight Cowboy movie’s magic came not just from its harrowing tale and its towering central performances, but also from its stunning photography and direction, one realises the extent to which this production does not do justice to the story’s famed previous iterations. The narrative demands a physical staging more inspired than Andrew Exeter’s set - projections onto a translucent screen are an ambitious conceit at the best of times. Throw in a 45 degree viewing angle for this reviewer and the projected backdrops become a distraction, with their intended scenic depictions becoming nigh-on invisible.

Midnight Cowboy demands scenes of a sexual nature that should trouble us with their tawdry casualness. In this production the intimacy is clumsily faked and so is the story's class.

Runs until 17th May

Photo credit: Pamela Raith

Manhunt - Review

Royal Court Theatre, London

****

Written and directed by Robert Icke

Samuel Edward-Cook

Written about Raoul Moat, infamous following the 2010 tragedy of violence that he wreaked on Tyneside, the mise-en-scene to Manhunt is the live projection from an above-stage video camera that broadcasts the bald-headed Moat pacing the confines of the stage much like a human snooker ball bouncing itself off the Royal Court’s walls. It's an apt metaphor for the evening that is to follow with Robert Icke’s debut script for the Court making a compelling narrative. Onstage throughout the play’s 90 minutes, Samuel Edward-Cook turns in an astonishing performance as the troubled murderer Moat, channelling energy and complexity into his work.

Rodgers & Hammerstein of course were here decades ago, when Carousel explored the suicidal mania of masculinity. Their Billy Bigelow however was only a fictional wannabe killer. Moat was to end real people's lives and devastate the lives of others, with Icke treading on morality’s very thinnest of ices as he seeks to consider if his protagonist was a man more sinn’d against than sinning.

Edward-Cook is superbly supported with the cast including Sally Messham as his (ex) girlfriend Sam and Trevor Fox offering up a banging take on Paul (Gazza) Gascoigne. Hildegard Bechtler’s set design, fusing practical props and effects with an ingenious use of video is outstanding.

That Sonia Friedman is co-producing suggests that shrewd folk see Manhunt following last year’s Giant into the West End. Manhunt’s production values are world class, but is the drama a well argued thesis, or has Icke simply assembled a harrowing barrage of exploitative exposition? Go see it for yourself and decide. Either way it’s a brilliant evening of theatre.

Runs until 3rd May

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

Jab - Review

Park Theatre, London

**

Written by James McDermott

Directed by Scott Le Crass

Liam Tobin and Kacey Ainsworth

Returning to a London stage after its premiere last year, James McDermott’s Jab is a 75-minute, one-act, whistle-stop tour through the cliched motifs of the pandemic. McDermott harangues us with his blunt narrative in a piece that however domestically perceptive, is lazily written. Jab lurches from one two-minute scene to the next, following the journeys of Anne (Kacey Ainsworth), a frontline NHS worker and her stay-at-home husband of 29 years, Don (Liam Tobin). The evening is more of a bullet-pointed Powerpoint presentation on the pandemic, rather than a carefully constructed piece of literature. 

If there was more (any?) nuance to the play, it might have possibly delivered a more stimulating story. As it is, and even for such a short play, the drama drags and that’s notwithstanding the excellent performances from Ainsworth and Tobin.

Lacking all debate whatsoever around the moral, societal and pharmaceutical complexities thrown up by the Covid vaccines, particularly in the light of post-pandemic commentaries on the jabs, the play reaches a predictable conclusion that is little more than a melodramatic mess.

A disappointing script, albeit brilliantly acted.

Runs until 26th April

Photo credit: Steve Gregson

Witness - Review

JW3, London

****

Co-curated by Mina Kupfermann and Manick Govinda

Benzi Brofman's portrait of the Bibas Family

Mounted at JW3 in London, Witness showcases the work of three Jewish artists, exploring their experience of antisemitism. To view the work on display is humbling, a truly bittersweet display of visual art across a range of media.

Co-curator Mina Kupfermann brings a tragically ethereal style to her imagery that is at best unnaturalistic. Her work suggests a fragile beauty, particularly of those poor souls who were murdered at the Nova Festival in Israel on October 7th 2023. Kupfermann’s work demands our engagement to decipher her message – indeed, the evening’s titular piece Witness is a towering montage of antisemitic bile, so massive that binoculars are on offer to study the work’s loftier inclusions - and when one’s grief is already strong, viewing her creations is, at times, challenging.

Maya Amrami offers a fusion of textiles and AI-driven technology in her work, drawn from her experience as an Israeli Londoner, and the antisemitic contempt and abuse that was hurled at her in the aftermath of October 7th. Hers is a powerful message, delivered in a most disconcerting style, that works as a transference of the pain that she has suffered, into the mind of the person viewing her work.

The exhibitions’s most powerful display however is the work of Benzi Brofman, an Israeli street artist. By a stroke of luck Brofman was spared the horrors of the massacre at the Nova Festival, having needed to have left the Gaza envelope shortly before October 7th. Channelling the energy of his survival, Brofman has made it his mission to create portraits of those murdered and taken hostage on that terrible day. With a tragically beautiful and breathtaking mastery of the airbrush, Brofman’s portraits demand that we look that day’s victims in the eye. His attention to detail is acute and when one, for example, stares at his portrait of the Bibas family, the effect is profoundly moving. It should be recorded that Brofman's original works are now mostly in the possession of the respective subjects' families. On display at JW3 are immaculately created prints of his work that touch our very souls.

While the artwork on display ranges from impressive to outstanding, there is a cloud overshadowing the exhibition. The event was commissioned by the London Centre For The Study of Contemporary Antisemitism (LCSCA) and it was a recent decision by the LCSCA to withdraw from the International Conference on Combating Antisemitism convened by the Israeli Diaspora Ministry that is a deep disappointment. Professor David Hirsh, the LCSCA CEO, in objecting to the presence of a number of invitees to the Israeli event stated: “We must embrace democratic politics that is open to all, and not one that, like antisemitism itself, consigns people arbitrarily and irretrievably to the enemy camp.

I respect the legitimacy of the Israeli Government, but as a scholar my job is to speak clearly when I judge that the wrong path is being considered. I hope that Global Forums in the future will return to the practice of bringing together diverse viewpoints and approaches in serious, evidence-based and rational debate.”

In refusing to engage with those with whom he disagrees and by not attending a democratic conference that is “open to all” Hirsh’s words become a virtue-signalling self-contradiction. As I wrote on 28th March 2025 on this same subject, even Shylock was prepared to talk to his sworn enemy. Hirsh et al should do the same.

Witness is at JW3 until 2nd April

Alfred Hitchcock presents The Musical - Review

Theatre Royal, Bath

****

Original score by Steven Lutvak

Book by Jay Dyer

Directed by John Doyle

Sally Ann Triplett

A fabulous fusion of parody and style that is immaculately performed, Alfred Hitchcock presents – The Musical celebrates one of the greatest television series of the 1950s, arguably one of the foundation stones of television history, in a multi-faceted musical tribute.

Mounted on an open stage, (design credits shared between the production's accomplished director John Doyle and David L. Arsenault) with one vintage TV camera and a boom mic to set the scene accompanied by six suspended brute film lights, the monochrome colour scheme of costume and props fixes the show’s era and all viewed through the borders of a television screen mounted around the edges of the Theatre Royal’s proscenium arch. Amidst this melee of ‘50s iconography a star-studded cast of 14 play out a handful of B-movie crime stories in the style of Hitchcock’s series’ 30-minute episodes. The stories intermingle like a patchwork quilt – cheating spouses and laconic beat-cops a recurring theme, mixed in with murder and blackmail and all sung exquisitely (albeit annoyingly, with no list of musical numbers included in the programme). The opening routine pays homage to the familiar motif of the TV series’ theme tune, while the songs themselves include some deliciously complicated harmonies. This is the America of Betty Crocker, ice-cold glasses of poisoned lemonade, and Chevrolets with front seats so wide they go on forever.

Sally Ann Triplett, Nicola Hughes, Scarlett Strallen and Damien Humbley get the lion’s share of the narratives – but there are juicy solos for all throughout an evening that showcases the country’s finest musical theatre talent.

The stories’ punchlines come with twists that feel like a cascade of Roy Lichtenstein cartoons. A familiarity with 50’s flair, albeit non-essential, will aid an appreciation of the show. For novices to the genre, just sit back and enjoy some of the most imaginative new writing around. 

A gloriously niche pastiche.

Runs until 12th April

Photo credit Manuel Harlan

Man In The Mirror - Review

Golders Green Hippodrome, London

****

CJ

Man In The Mirror is a highly polished tribute act created around Michael Jackson’s greatest hits. Leading the show is CJ, a man whose vocals and dance work is impeccable and who effortlessly captures Jackson’s  high tenor genius. Visually CJ is equally stunning, with his moonwalk and perfectly nuanced interpretation of Jackson’s signature dance moves, breathtaking in their poise and accuracy.

All the big songs are there with CJ brilliantly supported by his 4 piece band of  Nic Southwood, Doug Jenkinson, Lewis Wheeler and Chris Davies. Similarly the choreography is pinpoint precision with Holly Harrison (CJ’s offstage wife) having drilled her three fellow dancers Becky Holden, Harriet Johnstone and Laura Summers into an evening of gorgeous routines.

More of a gig than a stage-show, with so many of the audience being word-perfect with the King of Pop’s lyrics there’s much impromptu audience contribution that only added to the fun factor for the packed crowd in the Golders Green Hippodrome. It says something for Jackson’s body of work that the Hippodrome audience was fabulously diverse spanning the spectra of age, race and sexualities – Michael Jackson would have been proud.

The acoustics were great with the sound perfectly balanced. On a show that is built for the road, lighting will always prove a challenge and it was a small frustration that for much of the show the dancers were not lit as well as they deserved. Clever CGI projections formed the show’s backdrop – but the filmed zombies as the visual accompaniment to Thriller were repetitive and clunky. The dancers’ hijabs in the final number also offered a brief bias to the evening that slightly jarred.

Man In The Mirror is a slick interpretation of Michael Jackson with CJ delivering an outstanding turn and his company proving equally talented. If you love the music you’ll adore the show.

On tour until 2026 - details here 

Wild Rose - Review

Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

*****

Book by Nicole Taylor

Directed by John Tiffany

Dawn Sievewright and the company of Wild Rose

In much the same way as the movie Local Hero was Bill Forsyth’s 1983 love letter to the Scottish highlands, so has Wild Rose become Nicole Taylor's glorious celebration of Glasgow. Drawn from the 2018 movie as with Forsyth, Taylor has woven into her narrative an ingeniously plausible connection to the USA.

The story's Rose-Lynn Harlan is a young Glaswegian whom we meet as she is being paroled from jail (think John Belushi's Jake in The Blues Brothers opening scene, just with a different musical angle).  A single mum of two pre-teens, and from one of the city’s toughest tower blocks, hers has not been an easy life. But Taylor, in projecting her own love for country music onto her leading lady, has endowed Rose-Lynn with a passion for country that drives the show.

Dawn Sievewright is Rose-Lynn in what must surely be one of the finest musical theatre role creations to premiere in the UK this year. Sievewright not only possesses the pipes to take the roof off the Royal Lyceum when needed but more than that, she takes us on Rose-Lynn’s journey (no spoilers here) that acutely address her feelings of inadequacy as a young mum and the contrast she witnesses (in her job as a cleaner or “daily woman”) between the well-off and the poor. Sievewright’s singing and acting are exquisite – but it is credit to Taylor who wields her pen like a scalpel, depicting deep human pain with just a perfectly placed word or phrase. With so many musical theatre writers falling back on lazy exposition and a dictionary of rhymes, the budding librettists and lyricists of today would do well to study Taylor's masterclass of a script. John Tiffany’s gifted direction only enhances the evening. 

The show is a carefully curated country collection, all delivered impeccably and with Taylor's choices ranging from Country Girl through to Peace In This House and Glasgow (No Place Like Home) she rollercoasters her audience through the full range of emotions. Notably supporting Sievewright are Blythe Duff as Marion, her mother, Janet Kumah as Susannah, the client for whom Rose-Lynn cleans and on the night of this review Alfie Campbell and Lily Ferguson, the two young actors playing her son and daughter.

Music is essential to the strength of this show and Ali Roocroft’s eight-piece band (including seven(!) strings players) add a superb enhancement to the evening’s country credentials.

Built around three chords and the truth, Wild Rose is new musical theatre at its finest. Amidst its raw and rough colloquial Scots brogue (more inspired writing from Taylor), there is a diamond of a show that deserves to be cut, polished and mounted in the West End. Soon!

Runs until 19th April

Photo credit: Mihaela Bodlovic

White Rose The Musical - Review

Marylebone Theatre, London

**

Music by Natalie Brice

Lyrics and book by Brian Belding

Directed by Will Nunziata

The cast of White Rose

White Rose is a musical with its heart in the right place but sadly, not much else.

Based upon the real life group of Munich-based student activists who in the 1940s took a stand against Hitler’s regime, the show lacks the humbling genius of the brave young Germans who were its inspiration.

Other musicals have brilliantly tackled the ghastliness of the Third Reich, with Cabaret, The Sound of Music and The Producers (to name but three) all drawing on differing combinations of wit, irony and pathos to describe that darkest period of Europe's 20th-century history. White Rose however barely gets beyond repetitive, shallow, expositional numbers (which annoyingly, are not even listed in the programme), mostly set to jarringly forgettable rock rhythms. The impressively gifted and accomplished cast representing the best of young British musical theatre talent, are wasted on these mediocre melodies.

The show ends with the noble students singing “We will not be silenced” . If only…

Runs until 13th April

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

Farewell Mister Haffmann - Review

Park Theatre, London

***

Written by Jean-Philippe Daguerre

Translated by Jeremy Sams

Directed by Oscar Toeman

Nigel Harman and Jemima Rooper

Blending history with fiction, Jean-Phillipe Daguerre’s narrative explores Paris under Nazi occupation in the early 1940s.

Alex Waldmann is the titular Parisian jeweller, a Jew who transfers the ownership of his business to his Catholic employee Pierre (Michael Fox) to avoid it being seized by the Nazis. Haffmann also requests of Pierre that he and his wife Isabelle (Jennifer Kirby) move into the flat above the jewellery shop, with the hope that the couple will provide sufficient decoy to enable the jeweller to avoid deportation to the concentration camps. Not long into the establishment of this ménage-a-trois, we learn that Pierre is infertile and that a bizarre deal is to be brokered in which Haffmann is to impregnate Isabelle. This is an improbable storyline at best, which for the audience’s disbelief to be effectively suspended, requires actors of the highest calibre. Unfortunately the hard-working trio lack a convincing chemistry and so the first hour or so of this 90-minute, one-act play makes for soggy and unconvincing drama.

However - much like the way Steven Spielberg made the audience wait 80 minutes before revealing the shark in his movie Jaws, the evening’s final third is electric, as Otto Abetz (Nigel Harman), Hitler’s real-life ambassador to France together with his wife Suzanne (Jemima Rooper) arrive as the dinner guests of Pierre and Isabelle.

Harman’s Nazi is clipped and manicured and in a performance that must surely be up for an Offie nomination, his manifestation of the Third Reich’s evil proves as mesmerising as Christoph Waltz’s Hans Landa in Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds. Rooper’s drunken Suzanne is equally entertaining.

There maybe moments when Farewell Mister Haffmann feels like a long-haul but hang in there, Nigel Harman is sensational!

Runs until 12th April

Photo credit: Mark Senior

Il Trovatore - Review

Royal Opera House, London

****

Music by Guiseppe Verdi

Libretto by Salvadore Cammarano

Conducted by Giacomo Sagripanti

Directed by Adele Thomas

Agnieszka Rehlis

Il Trovatore, one of  Verdi’s greatest compositions hails back to a golden age of fabulous  storytelling. By todays’ standards this yarn of passion, jealousy, a gypsy’s curse and suicide - not forgetting the misogyny - would not even make it past a first draft. But Cammarano’s lyrics and Verdi’s music lift this melodramatic narrative into an evening of beauty that is driven by a spectacular cast.

Michael Fabiano is Manrico, Aleksei Isaev is his rival in love, the Count di Luna. Rachel Willis-Sørensen sings the role of Leonora, the object or both men’s desires, while Agnieszka Rehlis sings Azucena. If you are familiar with the story, you will understand the interactions of those characters. If you’re new to the tale - just head to the Royal Opera House to discover them for yourselves - you won't be disappointed!

While Giacomo Sagripanti conducts magnificently and Adele Thomas’ direction is assured and perceptive, the curiously clad Chorus prove a dystopian distraction.

Playing on a handful of dates until March 22nd - and with the Anvil Chorus too, what’s not to love about this operatic treat?

Photo credit: Camilla Greenwell

A Knock On The Roof - Review

Royal Court Theatre, London

*

Written by Khawla Ibraheem

Directed by Oliver Butler

Khawla Ibraheem

Khawla Ibraheem is Mariam, a young widow in Gaza and mother to the pre-teen Nour. The play's title refers to the sound made by small projectiles dropped by the Israeli military to signal an impending attack and to allow individuals to run for cover.

In her 75-minute one-act monologue Ibraheem offers little considered analysis of the Gazan conflict. Understandably, Mariam dreads the incoming missiles and bombs, and outlines in verbal detail the images of the region’s destruction that have already saturated Western media. However she makes no comment at all on the possible embedding of Hamas militia amongst Gaza’s civilian infrastructure and communities, a practice that exposes vulnerable non-combatants to lethal harm. Similarly, while we know that Hamas had constructed a network of tunnels underneath Gaza, Ibraheem is again silent when it comes to pleading for these tunnels to be deployed as air-raid shelters.

One can only ponder as to why the Gazan authorities appeared to have been so content to risk the lives of their citizens, and equally why Ibraheem is so reluctant to criticise their stance?

Culminating in a predictable ending, A Knock On The Roof is more melodrama than message.

Runs until 8th March

Photo credit: Alex Brenner

The Last Laugh - Review

Noel Coward Theatre, London

*****

Written and directed by Paul Hendy

Bob Golding, Damian Williams and Simon Cartwright

An imaginary dressing room shared by Tommy Cooper, Bob Monkhouse and Eric Morecambe is the setting for Paul Hendy’s new play that makes for an 80-minute one-act wonderland of a tribute to these three legends of late 20th century British comedy.

Damian Williams, Simon Cartwright and Bob Golding make up the trifecta (their names in the same order as their characters are listed above) in this superbly scripted drama that not only revisits countless, gloriously familiar comedy gems but also offers a briefly poignant analysis of how their acts evolved, as well as a glimpse of the sadness that lay behind the three perfectly honed comic masquerades.

It’s not just the script, the three actors nail their characters to a tee. And for those of us fortunate to have grown up in television’s golden-age, the evening is as if we are in the actual presence of these giants of light entertainment.

No spoilers here but be assured that some of the trio’s most loved gags are played out on stage. More than that, the actors truly inhabit the comedians’ personae delivering one of the best shows in the West End.

Hendy also directs with a perfectly nuanced touch, coaxing the gentlest manifestations of genius from all three amidst Lee Newby's immaculately designed set.

Only on for a month before touring - Unmissable!

Runs until 22nd March, then on tour.

Photo credit: Pamela Raith

Backstroke - Review

Donmar Warehouse, London

***

Written and directed by Anna Mackmin

Tamsin Greig and Celia Imrie

Celia Imrie and Tamsin Greig are Beth and Bo, mother and daughter in Anna Mackmin’s Backstroke, a play that explores womanhood, memory and the end of life. Coming fast on the heels of the autobiographical The Years' recent transfer to the West End, this Aga-saga (for there is such an onstage stove) similarly spins its yarn through a company of 5 female actors.

The drama opens around Beth’s hospital bed. A now elderly former hippy, she has recently suffered a stroke. That her relationship with the middle-aged Bo has been unconventional and strained is made clear from the get-go, with Bo addressing her mother by her first name rather than one of the more typical maternal salutations.

This is a narrative that plays fast and loose with timeframes. As the play unfolds, Beth leaps from her hospital bed into the  kitchen of her former years. Bo's past memories are portrayed as an immaculately photographed short film, flashes of which are projected on to an upstage blacked-out backdrop. As we explore Bo’s complex relationship with her mother, further emotional emotional intricacies are revealed that outline the younger woman's infertility together with her journey to adopt daughter Skylar.

This is a story that could have made for a sensational evening in the theatre. As it is, aside from Imrie and Grieg’s outstanding performance skills, Mackmin’s self-directed dialogue creaks, with the whole endeavour feeling far too tedious. In what is (essentially) a two-handed piece, Bo's occasional interactions with healthcare professionals around Beth’s hospital bed appear implausible and unconvincing. 

Lez Brotherston’s set proves surprisingly low-key given his usual hallmark of design genius.

Ultimately Backstroke is a brilliant idea that has been fashioned into a lacklustre script and delivered by world class actors.

Runs until 12th April

Photo credit: Johan Persson

The Years - Review

Harold Pinter Theatre, London

***

Based on Les Années by Annie Ernaux

Adapted and directed by Eline Arbo

Romola Garai

There are moments in The Years that make for some of the finest drama to be found in London. Annie Ernaux’s autobiographical writings, translated here from the French by Eline Arbo who also directs, offer a vivid glimpse into a womanhood spanning from the 1940s through to the early years of the 21st century.

Five women, who all opened the play last year at the Almeida prior to this West End transfer, capture Ernaux through the decades, and all with sublime performances. Seamlessly, the quintet also perform all the play’s supporting roles.

At its best The Years delivers the Nobel-winning Ernaux’s depictions of her own emotional and sexual development. From the highs of the excitement at the discovery of the secret adolescent thrills of masturbation, through to the depths of fumbled painful humiliation experienced during her teenage defloration, (credit to Anjli Mohindra for playing those chapters). The pain is worsened as Romola Garai plays out the backstreet abortion that Ernaux chose to undergo in her twenties. It is a credit to Garai that with nothing more than her outstanding acting skills and a judicious amount of stage blood - but no nudity whatsoever nor any other props or special effects - that her portrayal of such an horrific event is delivered with such harrowing impact.

Gina McKee picks up the emancipated Ernaux in in her fifties, having separated from her husband and enjoying not only parenthood but the joys of passionate sexual liaisons. Again - fine sensitive work from McKee. Deborah Findlay plays the writer’s endgame with equal perception and wisdom. A nod too to Harmony Rose-Bremner who takes up another of the author’s youthful personages.

Aside from speaking of her feminine evolution, Ernaux also offers historical comment on the world’s global and political evolution through the years. Her historical analysis however is crass, barely getting beyond schoolyard Marxism such is her bias. Billy Joel’s song We Didn’t Start The Fire achieves more accurate historical context in five minutes than Ernaux and Arbo can muster over nigh-on two hours with no interval.

Technically, the night of this review was a disaster blighted by not one, but two show-stops. The first was understandable with an audience member who having fainted at Garolai’s depiction of the aforementioned abortion, required assistance in leaving the auditorium. The second however was an inexcusable and appalling fault of the sound system. With tickets selling at close to £200 a pop, paying punters are entitled to expect flawless technical standards at a West End show.

The Years is a curate's egg, albeit brilliantly acted, that is 30-minutes too long. 

Runs until 19th April

Photo credit: Helen Murray

Richard II - Review

Bridge Theatre, London

*****

Written by William Shakespeare

Directed by Nicholas Hytner

Jonathan Bailey

There is brilliance at the Bridge with Nicholas Hytner’s modern-day staging of Richard II, in an interpretation that sees the politics of the play resonate strongly with England in 2025. The corrupt ineptitude of Richard’s government echoes the bumblings of Keir Starmer and his cabinet, and when the Bishop of Carlisle prophesies domestic strife and discord across the land she could well have been speaking of this sceptre’d isle today.

Jonathan Bailey is Richard in a masterful interpretation of the flawed monarch. His cocaine-powered court may only enhance the failings of his reign, but in both his rage and his sensitivities Bailey’s interpretation of the verse is exquisite. 

Hytner has cast his production well. Notable amongst a virtually flawless company is Royce Pierreson’s Henry Bullingbrook, a classy portrayal of ruthless cunning and political steel. Similarly, and following his outstanding turn in the recent Guys and Dolls, Michael Simkins again brings magnificence to the venue with his Duke of York, fusing avuncular wisdom with an unswerving loyalty to Crown and country. The ‘domestic’ between the Duke and his Duchess (Amanda Root) over the alleged treachery of their son Amerle is a scene that could have been lifted straight out of Albert Square such is the pair's dramatic excellence. Martin Carroll stepped up on press night to deliver a perfect cover of John of Gaunt, while Olivia Popica is a treat in her take on Queen Isabel’s emotional complexities. 

Amanda Root and Michael Simkins

The show’s production values are stunning. Bob Crowley’s stylish modern day scenery silently rises and falls from the Bridge’s bowels, while Bruno Poet’s interrogative lighting designs emphasise the story’s brutality. Grant Olding’s music adds a cinematic dimension to the evening that feels entirely appropriate.

This is a stunning play that cements the Bridge’s reputation as possibly the finest Shakespearean stage on London’s South Bank. Coming out of Richard II and seeing the Tower of London just across the river only adds to the theatre's magic.

Runs until 10th May

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

The Passenger - Review

Finborough Theatre, London

**

Written by Nadya Menuhin

Based on the novel by Ulrich Alexander Boschwitz

Robert Neumark Jones

Drawn from his personal experience, The Passenger was a novel by Ulrich Alexander Boschwitz describing the flight of Jewish Otto Silbermann from the horrors of Kristallnacht in 1938 Germany. Nadya Menuhin makes her playwriting debut with the piece, but while Menuhin’s intentions in translating the book to stage are honourable, the result is a one-act self indulgence that lacks dramatic sophistication and cries out for the input of a skilled dramaturg.

Robert Neumark Jones is Otto in a performance of remarkable energy that sees him onstage for the play’s entire 100 minutes. The story follows Otto’s journey in a cross-country railway travelogue that sees him, futilely, attempting to flee Berlin. Simply staged with no scenery, Joseph Alford’s carefully crafted soundscape is as impressive as Jones’ performance. A supporting quartet of actors deliver a multitude of roles ranging from Otto’s Aryan wife Elfriede (Kelly Price), through to to both the friendly folk and also the Nazis that he encounters on the rails.

In amongst the dialogue there are snippets of a history lesson - but Tim Supple’s staging is too simplistic and at times disappointingly pretentious. In what feels like a sometimes tedious evening, there’s a hint of a great play lurking within The Passenger. This isn’t it.

Runs until 15th March

Photo credit: Steve Gregson