JEW...ish - Review

Kings Head Theatre, London


****


Written by Saul Boyer and Poppy Damon
Directed by Kennedy Bloomer

Edie Newman and Saul Boyer

After a successful run at the Edinburgh Fringe, JEW...ish has just completed a short run at the Kings Head Theatre. The brainchild of co-creators, Poppy Damon and Saul Boyer, the play is centred around the relationship between Max, played by Boyer, and TJ, Edie Newman who are trying to navigate their way through their difficulties beyond the comfort of their university’s polyamorous society. Fraught with all the problems of an inter-religious couple, TJ is determined in her opinion that Max’s overbearing family not only cannot accept her because she isn’t Jewish but also accuse her of leading Max to becoming a ‘self-hating Jew’. 

Finding most of its comedy through the pastiche of millennial culture, the script also cuts across a broad range of themes including grief, therapy, the complexities of polyamory and of course, the Labour Party’s anti-Semitism crisis. Newman nails the woke, sexually explorative, university graduate even down to her intonation which makes everything out as a question, as though she is questioning society at every turn. This is perfectly offset by Boyer’s unflappable comedic timing, presenting Max as the recognisable male archetype who is completely lost without the direction of a woman, whether that be his overbearing Jewish mother or TJ. The chemistry between the two is visceral and believable making the audience root for these two easily dislikeable characters and want to continue on their love-hate journey. 

Georgia Cusworth’s simplistic set only adds to the atmosphere, making sure the actors’ relationship stays as the main focus and allows for an incredibly creative car ride. Working within an awkward space with the audience sat at three different angles, Kennedy Bloomer and Toby Hampton’s direction ensures that the whole audience feels involved and invested in the story throughout. 

JEW…ish plays out as a Semitic Richard Curtis-esque romp through the struggles of 21st century dating with all its pitfalls and absurdity and is well worth a watch.

Reviewed by Dina Gitlin-Leigh

Photo credit: Samuel Kirkman

Dracula - Review

King's Head Theatre, London


****


Written by Danny Wainwright and Daniel Hallissey
Directed by Danny Wainwright

The tale of Dracula (although not quite as Bram Stoker may have intended) comes to The King's Head for a joyous night of quintessentially British comedy.

Danny Wainwright & Daniel Hallissey’s take on the classic horror yarn beats along at a steady pace and is short and sweet with moments of delightful, raunchy and very dry comedy. The manic style is reminiscent of the West End's recent take on The 39 Steps, with a few sprinklings of pop culture references and obscene yet hilarious moments, with the five multi-faceted 5 cast members all delivering fantastic performances worthy of praise.

The play follows the quest of Count Dracula (Rob Cummings) whose curse of vampirism can only be broken by finding true love back in England. True love, that is, with a few caveats thrown in for good measure.

On his journey we encounter 3 nymphomaniacs, 3 hapless suitors all bidding for the affections of a young lady, a vampire hunting legend and a young woman hopelessly fallen for her bumbling lover who himself has a fixation for old decrepit nuns. If it sounds outlandish, whacky and mad, that's simply because it is. What's more - it only lasts an hour. Head over to Islington and catch this hilarious gem whilst you can. 

Runs until 26th November

Reviewed by Josh Kemp

Superman and me - Review

King's Head Theatre, London


***

Written by Suzette Coon
Directed by Eloise Lally

Tracey Ann Wood and Paul Giddings

Superman and me is a short, (if not so) sweet, two-handed snapshot of domestic dysfunctionality. Focusing on journalists Lois and Clark (geddit?) who met while working on the same newspaper, the half-hour long play, simply set in the chairs of their marriage-guidance counsellor's therapy room, flits in and out of the time zones of their ultimately unhappy twenty-something years together.

Suzette Coon's writing is a patchwork of barbed dialogue and reflective, sometime wistful monologues. Poignant, painful and occasionally perceptive, we witness her characters pick their way through the recognisable compromises of post-modern couples. Clark struggles with his conventionally macho ego being challenged by his ambitious and intellectual wife, whilst Lois sacrifices her stimulating career advancement on the altar of (mildly) resented motherhood. It ain't Pinter, but rather recognisable themes which Coon, for the most part, addresses avoiding cliché.

That the play dabbles fleetingly with the complexities and consequences of manic depression is a niggle. Mental health issues need to be talked about for sure - but making someone's breakdown the focus of a self described "anti romantic comedy" hints at a flippant treatment of the illness, which one suspects could not be further from Coon's intentions. A little more work is needed, 

Unquestionably written from the female perspective, Tracey Ann Wood (last reviewed here in Big Brother Blitzkrieg) remains outstanding, with every word capturing both the poise and nuance of her frustrations. Paul Giddings’ Clark however is a shallower creation, confined to playing (albeit very well) little more than a fatally stymied geek. One wishes that the text might have offered him an opportunity to explore a broader range of emotions.

But credit to Coon, for her innovative writing is punchy and emphatic and she's maintained a ruthless eye on the clock too. Superman and me deserves its inclusion in The King's Head's admirable Festival 46 and is well worth watching.

Performed again on 28th July

Big Brother Blitzkrieg - Review

King's Head Theatre, London

****

Written and directed by Hew Rous Eyre & Max Elton

Stephen Chance

The Big Brother House is no stranger to fevered egos, control freaks and folk in pursuit of fame. But right now at the King’s Head Theatre it is being graced with the presence of one particularly charismatic house mate, the Fuhrer himself.

Hew Rouse Eyre & Max Elton’s “Big Brother Blitzkrieg” is an Alice In Wonderland kind of tale: after a botched suicide attempt Adolph finds himself fallen down the rabbit hole into the peculiar world of reality TV. Or put simply, our world.

Using the Big Brother House is an ingenious device, allowing the writers to tell a story, reflecting the effect of Hitler’s character upon this bizarre microcosm of society.

Hitler’s housemates are an odd bunch, but it soon becomes apparent that they are there to reflect “us”. Adolph quickly assimilates into life in the Big Brother House, which sees the plot quickly darkening towards a powerful conclusion that leaves the audience with goosebumps.

Every single member of the small cast was superb with no exceptions, with Stephen Chance’s Adolph proving particularly memorable with an uncanny charisma and a pinpoint comedy style that drives the show.

Tracey Ann Wood plays Rachel,  a housemate whom it doesn’t take long for Hitler to deduce, is a Jew. Wood’s performance, especially towards the end is jarring and worthy of particular praise. Hers is the only character who doesn’t take to Adolph’s charisma, remaining constant as others change.

And it is these changes in those around Hitler that make this play special. This play is not so much about Adolph Hitler in the world of reality TV, as it is about us. Every exchange and dialogue that the housemates have with Hitler is meaningful as he manipulates them like a master puppeteer. They are all affected by his presence and at just over an hour in length no moment of dialogue is wasted and the tale never drags.

Big Brother Blitzkrieg proves to be the the darkest of satire and notwithstanding that the world was rid of Hitler over 70 years ago, the play chimes with an unnerving relevance today. If you want something provocative and which will leave you feeling slightly discouraged and pessimistic about the human condition today, then go see it whilst you can.

Runs until 30th January

Guest reviewer: Josh Kemp

Ruddigore - Review

King's Head Theatre, London 

****

Music by Arthur Sullivan
Libretto by W. S. Gilbert
Directed by John Savournin

John Savournin

Charles Court Opera are one of the leading small companies, known for their innovative approach and described as “the masters of Gilbert & Sullivan in small places”. For their 10th Anniversary, the company have chosen the lesser known tenth of fourteen comic operas by Gilbert & Sullivan. In 1887 Ruddigore initially struggled following the huge success of The Mikado, but after a few re-writes and a re-spelt title (from the original Ruddygore) it was to triumph.

Ruddigore, or The Witch's Curse, has an unbelievable plot. A centuries old witch’s curse on the Baronetcy of Ruddigore condemns the eldest sons to commit a crime everyday on pain of death. Heirs understandably try to find ways around this, or abscond, with perilous and confusing results all round, driving fiancées to madness and bridesmaids to despair. 

It all makes for a fabulous frolic, executed at the King’s Head Theatre with fine singing, acting and an unrelenting energy. Gilbert’s loquacious lyrics are performed at a breakneck pace, yet the skill of John Savournin’s direction and indeed his performance as Sir Despard Murgatroyd is such that every word is savoured and heard and whats more, that it all seems so ridiculously plausible.

The Bridesmaids’ constant and very funny refrain ‘Hail the Bridegroom, Hail the Bride’ is a memorable air, made all the more remarkable by Susanna Buckle and Andrea Tweedale effectively emulating a chorus of 22 voices, whilst Cassandra McCowan makes more sense of Mad Margaret than is often to be found in Ruddigore productions.

The compact company of just eight sound tremendous, with both acts' finales sung with a gorgeous musicality and a remarkable attention to detail. David Eaton as Musical Director, accompanies with great dexterity and detail throughout as Philip Aiden’s choreography keeps the cast on their toes admirably and literally, given the speed at which they move and sing. James Perkins’ seaside pier design atmospherically enhanced by Nicholas Holdridge’s lighting becomes hysterically effective when we are introduced to the ghostly ancestors.

It is profoundly re-assuring to see that in 2014 the spirit of Gilbert & Sullivan is more than alive and well in London’s off-West End. With sparkling melodies, glorious singing and rich characterisation, The King’s Head's Ruddigore makes for a delightful evening of meticulously crafted madness.

Runs to 14th March 2015

Guest reviewer Catherine Françoise

Go See - Review

Kings Head Theatre, London

***

Written by Norris Church Mailer

Directed by Sondra Lee

Making its world premiere, Go See from Norris Church Mailer (Norman Mailer's wife) is a curious tale of deception and desire set in Manhattan in the late 20th century.

Peter Tate plays David, a 50-something professor of anthropology who is studying aspects of human sexuality. His research leads him to a sex-show booth off 42nd Street, where he encounters the scantily clad Marie. Feeding her dollar bills through the glass, not for his sexual gratification but to be able to talk with her, his quest is to learn more about her.

Lauren Fox is Marie, the 45 year old private dancer, who even though she cannot see through the one-way glass between her and the punters, has nonetheless seen it all. Fox's performance is a revelation, for whilst the plot of Go See unfolds through credibility stretching complexities, her character is at all times a woman whose personal tragedy and loneliness is profoundly plausible. There is a thread that runs through the play of David's homosexuality - and AIDS is starting to reap its grim whirlwind - but the deception that he unleashes upon the unsuspecting Marie is so beyond belief that as much as his story his hard to take seriously, so is it difficult to find any sympathy for such a manipulatively deceitful man.

A post-show Q&A suggested that there may be a connection between Go See and My Night With Reg, Kevin Elyot's 1994 play that famously comments upon the impact of AIDS. Such an association is an overblown conceit. As a poignant observation upon the life and journey of a sex worker, Go See shines - but as a comment upon David's confused sexuality, the play is far too muddled.

Tate's performance is worthy, suggesting at times Paul Freeman with just a hint of a faux Jeremy Vine from Radio 2 when he questions Marie, but no more than that. It is Fox's star turn that justifies the price of this ticket. Her tale of love denied and a youth abused, echoes with the plaintive resonance of a Bobbie Gentry ballad.

Sondra Lee directs cannily and such flaws as there are in Go See lie entirely within the text, for the remarkable (84 year old!) Lee brings vision and perspective to the staging. Klara Zieglerova's overpowering designs, together with Mike Roberston's lighting achieve an economic excellence amidst the confines of the King's Head space, cleverly suggest the clip-joint, shifting to the proudly maintained ordinariness of Marie's apartment. 

The play may not be the best but Lauren Fox is both commanding and compelling. Go see Go See if for no other reason than to marvel at her acting.

Runs until 29th November

The Boat Factory

Kings Head Theatre, London

*****

Written by Dan Gordon

Directed by Philip Crawford

Michael Ondron (l) and Dan Gordon

The Boat Factory is that fine and rare piece of modern theatre. It’s a simply staged two-hander about the Harland and Wolff shipyard in Belfast. But where Roald Dahl has used a fictional chocolate factory to tell morality tales, Dan Gordon takes strands of historical fact and weaves them into the most beautiful yarn. The Boat Factory didn’t just dominate East Belfast, it provided the core to a community’s culture and a way of life.

Writer Gordon also plays Davy Gordon, a man introduced to us in the modern era, awaiting the results of a chest x-ray that are clearly signalled to be ominous. As Gordon confronts his mortality, he takes us on a journey of discovery, retracing his life through a series of exchanges with fellow shipyard worker Geordie Kilpatrick played by Michael Condron. Both men frequently slip in and out of different characters as foils to Gordon’s narrative acting out moments of the company’s history upon a stage of the simplest scaffolding with a blown-up image of a map of the massive shipyard for a backdrop

If the stage is simple, Gordon’s words are crafted with almost technicolor detail. We learn of the dominance of the factory over the city. We hear of the men’s pride in the company’s achievement in 1912 of building the yard’s biggest ship to that date, #401 Titanic. No moist-eyed look at Titanic’s tragedy here though, rather the glow of engineers simply basking in the deserved glory of their achievement and their subsequent devastation at the fact that this magnificent ship had sunk because a reckless owner demanded it be raced through an ice-field at night.

And its this attention to the minutest of detail that drives the success of Gordon’s play. Apprenticeships in the H&W shipyard were not only dreamed of by the city’s young men, they were actually paid for by the young trainees and even then the apprentices still had to supply their own tools! We hear of the scant disregard for an emergent health & safety culture, the factory frequently consuming its workers’ limbs, livelihoods and ultimately their lives, yet with brilliantly black humour we learn too of the skilled carpenters and joiners who cheekily used both the company's time and its materials to privately build and sell kitchens to the folk of East Belfast. No stranger too to the pain of sectarianism, Gordon acknowledges the complexities of the decades of religious hatred that have scarred his beautiful province with a well-crafted and respectful sensitivity.

Condron and Gordon’s familiarity with their work (recently back from a month’s residency in New York off-Broadway) has seen the play evolve into the smoothest of double acts. Their understanding of the text’s timing and nuances has become innate and whilst the sharply observed humour of the piece may make you cry with laughter, their tales of shipyard tragedy all related with honesty in place of soppy sentimentality, will make you sob.

For those (most) of us who know all about the tragedy of the Titanic, yet virtually nothing of the city that gave itself and its people, literally, to the construction of that ship and thousands of others too, The Boat Factory is a glorious celebration of Belfast and of its culture. It is one of the most beautiful pieces of theatre in town right now and it is a play that must be seen.



Runs until 17th August, and then from August 21st - 24th in Caithness, Scotland 

RIP

Kings Head, London

***

Written by Sonnie Beckett

Music by Sonnie Beckett and Joe Morrow

Directed by Hannah Kaye

Carla Turner, Emma Hook and Sarah Anne Cowell

As a new musical about Jack The Ripper, RIP sets out to be an intelligent take on an horrific chapter in London's history. Whilst it certainly is a meticulously researched and carefully crafted piece of theatre, as musical theatre horror it remains very much a work in progress.

Written by Sonnie Beckett with music co written by Beckett and Joe Morrow, both talented individuals who perform in the show interchangeably dropping out to play the piano as required, the show has a noble premise at its core. Beckett seeks to explore the back stories of the five women murdered by the Ripper, with each victim's story being told in turn. A noble aim, but a structure nonetheless that through no fault of the generally good, albeit unexceptional actors, has become tedious and predictable by the time we get to victim #4. Thankfully, Sarah Anne Cowell who plays Mary Jane Kelly the fifth unfortunate murdered woman, is an exceptionally talented performer and her beautifully Welsh sounding tones provide the one true soaring moment of the show. It should be noted that the troupe's close harmony work is sweetly performed throughout, although both lyrics and melodies are all too easily forgettable. For a show that this reviewer sincerely wanted to love, the production was informative and educational but not very entertaining.

Whilst the programme cover, possibly gratuitously, evokes horrific gore there is not a drop of stage blood to be found inside the house and that is a disappointment. A show about the Ripper needs at least a soupcon of blood and guts to scare the audience. When one goes to see Peter Pan, one expects to see on-stage flying, so it is with a show about the fiendish Ripper. Gore should be de-rigeur (even if in subtle moderation) and like the fairground ghost-train, one expects to encounter the odd hide-behind-your-hands moment too. Beckett and Kaye have staged the show such that many blades are flashed, sharpened and glinted under the lights, but this show cries out for the occasional visual effect of a victim dripping Sondheim’s “rubies” of blood. We need to be made to shudder or gasp at the occasional sight of brutal murder, rather than just glancing at the programme cover image of a woman dissecting herself. (Note: An image that is actually out of context with the show and arguably offensive. These poor women did not harm themselves, but were mutilated by a misogynist psychopath. Ergo, change this image for future runs!) 

Horrific violence was certainly suggested and mimed in the show, however as this blog has stated previously, portraying horror convincingly on stage is a tough act (see Cross Purpose review) and to portray it via mime is is a very tall order indeed. If the writers were perhaps to collaborate with some of the up and coming Grand-Guignol theatre companies to be found on today's fringe, then there may well be the potential for this work to achieve greater heights, with a cross-sharing of creative skills. A salute nonetheless to Hayley Thompson whose period costume work of tail-coated gentlemen and prostitutes all in petticoats and bloomers was outstanding. 

As it stands and judging by the biographies to be found in the programme, RIP is currently little more than a well intentioned Italia Conti school reunion. Beckett and Morrow however need not rip up the good work achieved so far. Rather, they should pare their collaboration down to its bones and seek to develop the fabulous potential that this show has to offer.

Runs until 21 July

Verdi's A Masked Ball (or Ballo)

King's Head Theatre, London

*****

New english version by Adam Spreadbury-Maher

New piano versio by Luca Tieppo



Becca Marriott

Opera Up Close’s production of Ballo, a new interpretation of Verdi’s A Masked Ball, (in Italian Un Ballo in Maschera) is brought bang up to date, with the action translated from 18th century Stockholm, to today’s London, specifically the North Circular Road near Wembley and to a large eponymous Swedish owned furniture store to be found there, complete with distinctive blue and yellow branding and product names so obscure that the word Ballo could just as easily refer to their latest sofa range. In this production however, Ballo is the name of the store.

The satire that underlies this work is cleverly crafted. To take the grand setting of a classic opera and reduce it to the mundanity of a suburban furniture store has echoes of the genius that underpinned The Office television series in which a minute examination of the humdrum routines of daily ordinary working life provided a rich seam of comedy. Where Ballo entertains even further is in the sheer breathtaking abilities of its performers.

The scope of this production is wonderfully and sensibly compacted to fit the tight constraints of the meltingly warm Kings Head performance space. Ben Woodward on keyboards provides the only musical accompaniment and it is a credit to his remarkable ability that he matches and leads the singers perfectly.

The original tale is set in the court of King Riccardo and tells of the love that grows between him and Amelia, the wife of his close friend Renato.  Also present in Riccardo’s court are his loyal fop Oscar, Tom, a courtier with a lurking grievance and astrologer Ulrica. These characters have evolved into the furniture store Manager (Riccardo) and various other jobs around the shop and warehouse, with Amelia employed as a checkout girl. The staging is simple using desks and occasionally, flat-pack furniture. With a planned tryst in the store car park at midnight being cleverly suggested with bulkhead lights and brilliant floodlights this production’s attention to detail on what is clearly is a tiny budget, is remarkable.

But it is the vocal performances of this company that astound. There is not a weak moment between them, rather numerous instances of excellence. Martin Milne’s immaculate male soprano sports an impressive budgie-smuggling costume bulge for the final scene that is at odds with his evident talent amongst the eye-wateringly highest of octaves. Dickon Gough’s resonantly baritone Tom is a modest part beautifully delivered, his testosterone fuelled voice emphasising almost every word with a vicious relish. When he mistakenly accuses Riccardo and Amelia of having been dogging in the car park, the anticipation with which he savours spreading such malicious gossip around the store is almost palpable. Ulrica, a customer service telephonist who moonlights during office hours providing a premium-rate telephone astrology line shows Olivia Barry at her accomplished best.

The triangle of betrayed friends and lovers is completed with Edward Hughes’ Riccardo, Becca Marriott as his paramour and Christopher Jacklin as her husband. Hughes has the swagger of Matt Lucas and the voice of a tenor angel. Marriott’s arias are frequently spine-tingling whilst Jacklin’s classy portrayal of a man emotionally betrayed by friend and wife is initially heart-rending, evolving into chilling as he plots his murderous revenge.

The libretto is a new translation by Adam Spreadbury-Maher and Luca Tieppo’s arrangement of the score has blended in some nods to ABBA for the final masked ball scene at the store party.

This is not a show for prudish purists. On the other hand, if you are new to the concept of opera or broad minded enough to enjoy a ridiculously talented cast pushing the boundaries of taste and acceptability, whilst singing their hearts out, then Ballo is a must see.


Runs to 25 May

Quasimodo

King's Head Theatre, London

****

Based on Victor Hugo's Notre Dame de Paris

Music and words by Lionel Bart

Additional book material by Chris Bond and Robert Chevara

Directed by Robert Chevara

Steven Webb

Written in 1968 and incredibly never before performed, Lionel Bart's Quasimodo scales the epic grandeur of this classic tale, taming it into a show some two hours long that packs in 24 numbers. The story is well known, numerous film versions exist and even Disney released their own much nominated musical animation, with songs by Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz. What makes Bart's show all the more astonishing is that it was penned some 30 years prior to the Disney movie and whilst some, (not many) of the Englishman's lyrics lack sophistication, his ability to pinpoint those pivotal moments of humanity: hope, despair, jealousy but above all, compassion and love, provides a framework around which this fabulous, even if somewhat rudimentary, show has been constructed.

Steven Webb plays the hunchback. Avoiding corny prosthetics save for a gruesome gimlet contact lens, Webb projects the hideous deformity of the young man with a combination of makeup and craft. His movement is sublime (a nod there to Lee Proud's choreography), even if, occasionally his vocal representation of this deaf young man with learning difficulties is sometimes clichéd. As always Webb is a delight to both watch and listen to. He earns our sympathy and with two numbers in particular, If Only I Were Made of Stone (sung to the cathedral gargoyles, an address that Schwartz and Menken reversed with their shtick routine of A Guy Like You) and later with Introducing You, a song that reminds us of Bart's Consider Yourself from Oliver!, in which Quasimodo delightfully introduces the cathedral bells to Esmeralda, Webb’s energy shines out. Musical director Peter Mitchell makes effective use of keyboards to suggest the different bells, in a delightful moment of music provided a very strong suggestion of location.

It is barely a cigarette paper that separates the lead roles of Quasimodo and Esmeralda. Hugo’s novel was titled in French: Notre Dame de Paris and not as many believe, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Esmeralda (who was in fact Hugo’s main protagonist) and the love and passion that she arouses in what could be a potential ménage a cinq, provides the material for much of the show's story. Making her London debut, Zoe George is the fiery Gypsy girl who inspires the hero’s love, as well as the far more base lusts of Bishop Claude Frollo and Captain of the Guard Phoebus. George gives a passionate portrayal of the sparkling peasant girl, her flowing black hair, bare feet and simple white gypsy skirts completing the characterisation. Whilst her vocals could be perhaps a little more polished, her solitary number Live and Let Live, is a beautiful composition, movingly sung.

In Hugo’s Les Miserables, the bad-guy Thenardiers were comic villains. Here however the French author makes his villain far more dark. Claude Frollo, ostensibly a chaste priest, harbours wicked lustful intentions towards Esmeralda and James Wolstenholme’s performance of this critical supporting character is close to flawless. A casting fault of the producers however is that Wolstenholme is far too young for the role. Frollo needs to be old enough to be the equivalent of a father figure to Quasimodo and this age gap should further underline the repugnancy of his lust for the girl.

Christopher Hone’s set design makes imaginative use of ladders and platforms to suggest the cathedral rooftop whilst Robert Chevara directs his versatile cast of only 8 across numerous roles. The programme, in honest candour, describes the show as a diamond in the rough. Notwithstanding, Quasimodo has a pulse of fresh originality that can all too often be lacking in current musicals. Produced on a tiny budget and in a modest auditorium, this production emphasises the “Theatre” in Musical Theatre, providing a stirring tragic spectacle that should not be missed.

Runs to 13th April 2013

Equally Divided

Watford Palace Theatre, Watford

***

Written by Ronald Harwood

Directed by Brigid Lamour

This review was first published in The Public Reviews


Beverley Klein (l) & Katharine Rogers


Equally Divided returns to the Watford stage, some 15 years after Ronald Harwood’s work first opened. It’s a curious literary concoction, part comic, part tragic and in part questioning important social and moral dilemmas that include loneliness, envy, rejection and the experience of second generation immigrants. The scope of Harwood’s writing is however so vast, that rather than studying any one of these difficult areas in depth, the author addresses far too many questions with a scatter-gun approach that too often resorts to shallow caricature. And so for a writer of such wisdom and talent, the play is ultimately a disappointing journey.


Notwithstanding, the cast of four are all engaging and as Edith Taylor, the protagonist, Beverley Klein delivers a virtuoso performance. Her character is the elder of two sisters, in her fifties, whose own sense of purpose in life has been drained from her by a manipulative mother recently deceased. We learn how in her final years, Edith provided round-the-clock personal care to her mother, whilst her sister Renata (played by Katharine Rogers) barely visited. Rogers too gives a noble performance. Her character has been married twice and wealthily, and is a woman who is sexually and financially fulfilled, albeit in therapy. Harwood however could not have made Renata more of a cliché, particularly when contrasted with the empty and drab sexless vessel that is Edith’s life. Albert Camus’ Cross Purpose, recently at the Kings Head in London, drew a similar picture of dourness far more succinctly.  To this production’s credit however, Klein – who is rarely off stage and with a script that gives her almost as much monologue and soliloquy as it does dialogue – rises to the challenge. The talented actress coaxes subtle (and sometimes blatant) nuance and pathos from almost every word, with a performance that is possibly reason enough alone to see the show.


The two men in the play are local solicitor Charles and antiques dealer Fabian. Walter van Dyk as the widowed lawyer plays a hapless twit of a provincial professional, besotted with Renata and blind to the initially desperate desire that Edith has for him and makes the best of a poorly developed cardboard cut-out of a character. Gregory Gudgeon as the lovable rogue antiquarian is sketched out by Harwood with such ambivalence , that one is ultimately not sure if he cares for Edith, or is ripping her off. This may well be the writer’s clumsy intention, but towards the end of the play, one is possibly beyond caring.


The text has several poetic references that Brigid Lamour has highlighted in the programme. The literary connotations are clear, but one cannot help but feel that if Edith had been given to recite Larkin’s famous This Be The Verse, we could all have been heading for the bar an hour earlier. Harwood writes of dispersal and of the desire of the immigrant to fit in. At times his analysis has pinpoint precision and is a true baring of his soul and of his experience. But whilst he clearly understands displacement and transience, this piece of theatre fails to move.


Runs to February 23rd

Cross Purpose - Review

Kings Head Theatre, London

*****

Written by Albert Camus

Directed by Stephen Whitson



Jamie Birkett as Martha

Every now and then, a performance and a production come along, that astound. Cross Purpose, a little known play by Albert Camus is such an event.

Conveniently staged in the now traditional October run-up to Halloween, the premise of the play is a troubling horror story that is at once both visual and psychological. Jamie Birkett is Martha, a woman who together with her mother has run a guest house in the rural wilds of some landlocked European nation. We are told that over the years occasional guests have been robbed and routinely murdered by the couple and how Jan, a handsome young man who has checked in that day, looks like a suitable case for slaughter. Unbeknownst to the hosts, Jan is their long lost son and brother, keen to re-acquaint himself with his family. To say more of the plot would be to spoil, but the understated menace that surrounds the exchanges between man and women, is chillingly played.

Understatement is the watchword of this carefully crafted tale that has been expertly translated by Stuart Gilbert. Birkett is a callow harridan, aged before her time, made up with pale drawn features that are shocking to look at. Her face is that of a woman deprived of the sunlight of love and happiness and when late in the play she says “ No one has kissed my mouth or seen me naked…. and that must be paid for” we get a glimpse in to the hellish furnaces of contempt and jealousy of compassionate humankind that burn within her.  Where Martha is grey faced, Jan’s complexion is tanned and attractive. Early in the story, we see Martha possibly attracted to the visitor ( unaware at that stage that he is a sibling ) , leaving the audience alarmed that a possibly incestuous love could yet unfold in addition to any potentially murderous horrors. In a coincidental echo of Sondheim’s Mrs Lovett from Sweeney Todd, Martha longs to leave her landlocked misery for a life by the sea and indeed this tale chimes with that musical on several occasions, serial killing being undertaken by those angry with a world and a society that has forsaken them.

Horror is challenging enough to portray on screen, requiring the audience’s disbelief to be suspended sufficiently enough to allow natural emotions of fear and anxiety to be stimulated. The requirements for on stage horror to succeed are identical, but even more challenging as the performers are forced to rely almost entirely upon the strengths of their own abilities, rather than gruesome props or special effects. Birkett’s ability to take us on this grim journey is a tour de force, reminiscent of a young Fiona Shaw. The play is entirely dark, though occasional glimmers of wry irony are allowed to pierce the misery and in these moments Birkett’s hotelier performance evokes an infernal concoction of Basil Fawlty, Psycho’s Norman Bates, with just a hint of Les Miserables’ M. Thenadier. An accomplished musical theatre performer to date, this role defines Birkett as a dramatic star of her generation.

The supporting cast are a treat to watch. Christina Thornton delivers an ageing Mother weary of her murderous life and deeply troubled. Like Sondheim’s barber, she evokes both our loathing and also at times our sympathy for her miserable plight. David Lomax is a convincing Jan, wholesome and attractive, with a sincere compassion towards his mother and sister. Making a marvellous cameo as the house’s wise and all seeing Manservant is 86 year-old Leonard Fenton. Famed as EastEnders’ Dr Legg, this veteran actor proves that there is life after Albert Square, just. Mute, until the play’s final scene, his ability to act through an authentically doddery movement and a gimlet eye is a masterclass in performance that adds to the disquieting aura of the isolated setting of the tale.

Stephen Whitson has helmed a well-crafted production. The Kings Head’s stage is small with limited scope for props and scenery and as has been well documented, a convincing horror story depends on skilfully crafted sound. Designer Tim Adnitt achieves ambience and setting, as well as background noise, in a way that is chilling and convincing, but never melodramatic.

This production only runs for ten performances but undoubtedly deserves a larger venue and a longer residency. Dramatic performances rarely come better than this.

Runs until November 11

The Great Gatsby Musical - Review

King's Head Theatre, London

****
Music by Joe Evans

Lyrics by Joe Evans and F. Scott Fitzgerald

Book by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Directed by Linnie Reedman

Matilda Sturridge as Daisy Buchanan

The Great Gatsby Musical is an enjoyable  piece of theatre. Linnie Reedman presents F Scott Fitzgerald’s classic American tale of interwar decadence in a delightful flurry of frocks, charlestons, and mint juleps.  Be warned though, this show fillets the tale to its barest bones and for the audience to keep up with the show's pace, particularly in Act 2, a pre-knowledge of the original story is advised.

Whilst the production as a whole is pleasing on the eye, as a musical it is a work in progress. Joe Evans, is being grandiose when he refers to lyrics having been written by both himself and Fitzgerald. The story’s author wrote exquisite prose so I suspect he is spinning in his grave at the chorus of Evans’ composition You Cannot Live Forever simply being those four words repeated incessantly. The musical is set in the Jazz Age, but the melodies as they stand are shallow, with insufficient acknowledgment of say the wonderful Gershwin-esque sounds of the time, which would have enhanced the show’s sound. It is also a disappointment that the arrangements have not found room for any brass, as an occasional muted trumpet could have evoked both time and place. Evans also denies large swathes of Act 2 any song or music whatsoever, notably the New York hotel room denouement. If this show is to succeed as a musical it needs bigger numbers to portray the maelstrom of emotion and revelation that Fitzgerald created. As it stands, this production is more of a play with songs and music, rather than a musical.

The show’s strengths are undoubtedly within its casting. As Gatsby, Sean Browne evokes the coolness and sham-mystique of the protagonist, skilfully. Gatsby was an Allen Stanford of his day, with a fortune built on shaky and immoral foundations. Browne nailed the nervous under-statement that evolves into defiance, superbly.

Opposite Browne, Matilda Sturridge is an exquisitely delicate Daisy Buchanan, in love with Gatsby whilst trapped in a loveless marriage to Tom. It is remarkable to learn that this marks Sturridge’s professional stage debut as her almost innate ability to portray the subtlest of Daisy’s nuances with simply a glance or a tilt of her head are masterful and belie her youth. Her father Charles directed the television epic Brideshead Revisited some 30 odd years ago, in which her mother Phoebe Nicholls featured, portraying the same decadent years albeit from this side of the Atlantic. One cannot help but feel that the young Sturridge has been well counselled to play such a classic character from that era.

Also worthy of mention are Peta Cornish who plays flapper Jordan Baker delightfully and Jon Gabriel Robbins, whose portrayal of the cuckolded George Wilson is a clever study in stifled rage, frustration and humiliation. Steven Clarke too, as the philandering Tom is convincing as an uncaring, racist, old money WASP.   Raphael Verrion delivers rather a journeyman performance as Nick Carroway. Fitzgerald wrote the book through Nick’s eyes as a narrator, making him critical to the unfolding of the story. That narrative aspect has been largely removed from this production and thus negates Nick’s impact as a character.

Christopher Hone’s economic design cleverly shifts from pool to garage to mansion, and Belle Mundi’s detailed period costumes are a delight. The girls are elegantly dressed and headbanded almost throughout, though one felt at times for Gatsby, sporting a double breasted suit within the scorching heat of the small theatre.

If you have an affinity for the story, then this is a show to see, if only to observe how the Ruby In The Dust company have added some music and song to a well known fable and given it their own unique and stylish interpretation.

Runs to 1st September 2012