Till The Stars Come Down - Review

 Theatre Royal Haymarket, London

*****

Written by Beth Steel

Directed by Bijan Sheibani

Dorothy Atkinson

The West End transfer of the National Theatre's Till The Stars Come Down sees this stunning new play evolve into a production that is as stellar as its title.

Powerfully perceptive and set in a northern mining village where the pit has long since closed, Beth Steel’s writing focuses on three sisters on the day of the youngest sibling’s wedding. Rarely does a narrative soar from brilliantly observed (and perfectly timed) hilarity one minute, to harrowing family despair the next as passions, secrets and lies merge to fuel a narrative that culminates in perhaps the most exquisitely performed heartbreak to be found in London today.

This is a story about love, desire, resentment, ageing, grief and bigotry with Bijan Sheibani’s company of 10 all delivering faultless expertise in their acting. The sororal trio comprises Sinead Matthews (as Sylvia, the bride) and Lucy Black (as Hazel) returning to the production from the National, with Aisling Loftus (Maggie) a newcomer to the transfer. All three are powerhouse performers. Also returning are Philip Whitchurch as the bride’s Uncle Pete and Alan Williams as Tony, the sisters’ widowered father. Williams in particular delivers a turn that is a masterclass in understated excellence.

The evening’s comedy moments are driven by Dorothy Atkinson’s Aunty Carol, a woman who is as monstrous as she is relatable and recognisable. Gifted most of the evening’s snappy one-liners, Atkinson is the definition of tragi-comical brilliance.

The show is a technical treat with Samal Blak’s ingenious revolve being perfectly lit as ever by Paule Constable.

Beth Steel’s writing was good last year on the South Bank. Performed by this company at the Theatre Royal Haymarket, it’s bloody brilliant and the capital's drama highlight of the summer!

Runs until 27th September

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

The Midnight Bell - Review

Sadler's Wells, London

***

Directed and choreographed by Matthew Bourne

The company of The Midnight Bell

Inspired by the novels of Patrick Hamilton, The Midnight Bell plunges us into the murky, world of 1930s Soho. And there, thanks to Paule Constable’s gloomy lighting, it remains for one hour and fifty minutes (apart from a twenty minute interval). While Lez Brotherston's set design is atmospheric, the action is not always visible. That the follow-spots sometimes fail to light their intended subject doesn’t help matters. 

The titular Midnight Bell is a pub where various people – lonely, listless, cocky or whatever – meet. Most are looking for love or sex in some form or other, with some of the encounters working out better than others.  

Of course the choreography is sensitive, imaginative and very watchable. Some of the gestures are witty too and it’s all very human. This is Matthew Bourne, after all, and he’s a master of his own form of body language.  But the story telling is too vague and given the shadowy lighting it’s often hard to distinguish one character from another although each is, apparently, drawn specifically from the novels. 

Terry Davies’s evocative music, pre-recorded by an eleven piece orchestra with a singer, fits the mood of the piece perfectly. He deploys an effective use of voice, sailing over the top of the musical texture, to create mystery, sadness or wistfulness. Like Bourne, Davies is very good at evoking mood with, for example, a minimalist percussion rhythm accompanying a sex scene in a seedy hotel that is aurally arresting. Less successful is the use of characters miming 1930s songs which simply feels lazy. Dance in general, and ballet in particular, is a non-verbal medium and the songs are a jarring interruption. 

This revival of The Midnight Bell, first seen in 2023, is reasonably enjoyable theatre, athough the second half drags. Not Matthew Bourne’s finest.

Runs until 21st June, then on tour.

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Reviewed by Nicola Klein