Jodie Prenger Talks About A Taste Of Honey

Jodie Prenger

Written 60 years ago, Shelagh Delaney’s A Taste Of Honey is an unsentimental glimpse of working-class Manchester, viewed through the lives of Helen, played by Jodie Prenger, and her daughter Jo.

As the National Theatre’s revival arrives at London’s Trafalgar Studios, I spoke briefly with Jodie Prenger, who plays Helen about the role

JB:    Jodie, tell me all about you and Helen.    

JP:    I've said this many times, I definitely don't go for wallflowers, do I?     

I've discovered that the characters I enjoy playing the most are the most flawed, and Helen is flawed, but I find her beautifully flawed.     

I think I find her to be a woman of circumstance, a woman of truth and I've just had an absolute joy playing her. I find it brilliant the fact that the experience I've had in my life with my family coming from Manchester, realising what a struggle it was and knowing that my nan was a woman who used to graft all the hours of a day and then go get her hair done and put her jewellery on!     

So there's that kind of element where it's very relatable to me, and I think that kind of warmth, the humour, the rawness of that era and of that little part in the world that I find really kind of truthful to me. I have just thoroughly enjoyed playing Helen with every inch of my soul. I really have.    

JB:    The play is 60 years old. How do you think time has impacted upon it?    

JP:    Speaking to people at the stage door and they say those issues about race, those issues about homosexuality, those issues about being a single mother back then were so taboo. So much so that the original cast were told where the exits were in case you get mobbed by the audience.    

It was that kind of unknown entity, shall we say. But whereas today, we still deal with those issues, so it's great to bring them up and reflect on them. I mean, back then we had so far to go, but even today we still have a little bit further to go    

It's true, everyone wants their taste of honey. Everyone wants to be loved. Everybody wants to strive. Everyone wants to see the next day and have that a bit of fun in their life, but their circumstances of where they are and their place in time doesn't always necessarily allow that. So there is still that to fight another day, which we all have and probably more so in this day and age than any other time, really.    

Society from 1950s England to now has changed immensely, but we still deal with these issues and we still talk about these issues, and A Taste Of Honey is a show that was written by this extraordinary 19-year-old girl from Salford that hit at the heart because she lived in the very heart of the city. She slept In and breathed Salford, and this is where these people, these characters, slept and breathed themselves. I think when you put yourself in these situations, or when you are in that situation, it's just the most magical place to write because you are speaking from the heart. I think that's what A Taste Of Honey does.    

The play speaks from the heart because we are human beings, and I think that's what Shelagh Delaney created, a masterpiece that caught that capsule of time, but that capsule of time is so raw that we are still human beings and still fight for the same reasons and still love and want to be loved for the same reasons.     

When we were on tour, there was a lady came to see it in Manchester. Then she came back to Birmingham to see it again and told me "I had to see it again. I had to answer my own question," and I think that's brilliant, that's what Shelagh Delaney, the playwright, did.    

I’m from Blackpool, 45 minutes away from where the play was written although I often wonder if Shelagh ever went into my nan's family's laundry or cafe, which were in Manchester.!

JB:    You shot to national fame winning the role of Nancy in Oliver, following the TV talent search I’d Do Anything. Give me a comment on musical theatre versus plays?
     

JP:    I find entertaining, or the world of entertainment, I should say, exciting. I think if you can push yourself and find ways that you can learn things about yourself ... I mean, in every single show I do, I learn something more about myself through the character or working with the creators or working with a cast.    

Drama on TV is very different to theatrical drama, and I find plays very different to musicals. But I think it's the adaptability that I find really exciting and I find that I learn. I think the thing I love the most is working with a really ... It sounds so soft and it's going to sound like a Miss World speech, but if I've got a lovely company to work with, I just find it extraordinary. I really, really do. I've been lucky so far. I mean, I've met a couple of nutters along the way, but there is not a single one on this job.So I'm thrilled, but it's just great, and working with Bijan and all the show’s creatives has been fantastic. It really has. You always know when you get into a rehearsal room, when you have the first read-through, that's something that's quite magical. You go, "Oh, okay, now I know what we've got here." and that's exciting.

So yeah, it's not necessarily about what I prefer. I think it's about what you can learn and what you can gain and what you get out of a job. I think we are all victims sometimes, slaving at jobs that just aren't working, but I am very lucky in the fact that I just love what I do, really.


A Taste Of Honey runs until 29th February 2020 at Trafalgar Studios
Photo credit: Marc Brenner

Equus - Review

Trafalgar Studios, London

***

Written by Peter Shaffer

Directed by Ned Bennett

Ira Mandela Siobhan and Ethan Kai

Equus remains a fascinating, if dated, piece of writing from Peter Schaffer. Exploring the psycho-sexual complexities of the adolescent Alan Strang, a boy who has just, horrifically, blinded six horses, Shaffer contexts the young man’s mental turmoil against the emotional and sexual failings of his psychiatrist Richard Dysart.

Done well, the play should offer a well crafted glimpse into teenage angst, parental frailties together with the numbing realities of mid-life disappointment. In Ned Bennett's production however, that arrives at the Trafalgar Studios from the Theatre Royal Stratford East, a strange fusion of magnificence and mediocrity permeates the evening.

Ethan Kai plays the troubled Strang and while he may appear perhaps a little too old to portray his teenage character, his performance nonetheless convinces. Kai captures Strang’s awkward dysfunctionality - a boy who is more at ease with horses than with people - delivering a performance of intensity and energy.

Opposite Kai is Zubin Varla’s Dysart in a turn that fails to deliver the gravitas that the role demands. Varla is unable to carry us along with his revelations of the demons that surround his infertility and failing marriage. On stage virtually throughout, in what is unquestionably a demanding role Varla’s work is of a standard that is little more than “average” and for Shaffer’s prose that’s just not good enough. 

The supporting roles are likewise workmanlike in their execution. With the exception of Norah Lopez-Holden’s Jill, Strang’s peer who befriends him, all the other characters prove too tedious as they flesh out Strang’s back story, making the 2hr 40min piece seem even longer.

To their credit however, and with the exception of Varla and Kai, all the cast double up in their portrayal of the horses that Strang is to ultimately mutilate and under Shelley Maxwell’s movement direction, their equine interpretations are sensational. The immaculately sculpted Ira Mandela Siobhan plays Nugget, the “lead” horse in the stables in a masterclass of physical theatre. Maxwell delivers genius in her suggestions of the horses’ movement, that her company deliver immaculately.

Runs until 7th September

Photo credit: The Other Richard

Vincent River - Review

Trafalgar Studios, London


**


Written by Philip Ridley
Directed by Robert Chevara

Louise Jameson and Thomas Mahey

Philip Ridley as a playwright is a theatre producer’s. The vivid scenes-capes that he creates tend not to require lavish casting nor expensive sets, being instead fleshed out by way of lengthy, descriptive monologues - windows onto the dysfunctional dystopia that Ridley perceives around him. The disappointment to the audience however is that when you’ve heard one Ridley monologue, it can feel like you’ve heard them all.

Vincent River is a two-hander that revolves around Anita, grieving for her dead son Vincent and Davey, a young man who, we come to discover, was connected to the dead young man. Lasting 90 minutes, the one-act piece never leaves Anita's flat.

Louise Jameson is magnificent as the mourning mother, with a subtlety of nuance and tone in her performance that sits alongside the raging howls of her unimaginable grief. Notwithstanding the tortuous convolutions that Anita is subject to through Ridley’s prurient projections, Jameson remains masterful throughout. Thomas Mahy’s Davey however, even this long into the role (the production has transferred from a run last year at the Park Theatre) is too stilted, too often.  Contrasted with Jameson's genius, Mahy is found to lack credibility and heft in delivering his complex and occasionally unpleasant character.

The circumstances of Vincent’s death were a brutal homophobic hate crime, with the show’s programme notes making  worthy reference to the prescience of Ridley's writing (the play premiered in 2000) amidst the "otherings" of today, and the violence of prejudice that exists across the world. Sadly however such hateful violence is nothing new to mankind, with history telling us that it has been here forever. Ridley’s tawdry words, at times offering little more than a virtual peep show into graphic descriptions of verbally violent torture porn, tell us nothing new.

Runs until 22nd June

Photo credit: Scott Rylander

Hot Gay Time Machine - Review

Trafalgar Studios, London



****



Written by Zak Ghazi-Torbati and Toby Marlow and Lucy Moss
Directed by Lucy Moss

Zak Ghazi-Torbati and Toby Marlow

You enter a dark basement in the heart of the West End. RuPaul is blaring, lights are flashing and there is dancing. Yet this is not a club. Instead it’s Hot Gay Time Machine.

What is that, exactly? It’s hot, and gay and a time machine, so proclaim co-writers Toby Marlow and Zak Ghazi-Torbati (the third member of this creative team is Lucy Moss). A not entirely helpful answer but one that does provide an indication of what’s to follow in the ensuing 75 minutes.

This show tells a version of the performers’ stories, specifically those incidents that bear relation to their identities - such as coming out to their mums, navigating school and finding a gay best friend. It’s a story about their friendship, packaged up in a musical ‘extravaGAYNza' comedy cabaret.

They - the Hot Gays and Lucy - describe this show as a joke that’s gone too far. It was an idea that escalated into an actual commitment at their university and was produced on a £400 budget in a week.

We know that Marlow and Moss can write fantastically sharp songs. They are, after all, the creators of SiX: The Musical - the award-winning hit show - and something that the former pleasingly refers to on stage. With Ghazi-Torbati added into the mix, the result is even sharper and, on occasion, close-to-the-bone humour. Its a trifecta of witty lyrics, pop music structures and strong vocal performances that delivers immense joy.

The beauty of a production like this is that it allows for performers’ personalities to shine through with a full beam, beyond what is intrinsically woven into the script and score. It’s the moments where they break character as a result of ad libs or improvisation that heighten the laughs. This fluidity works well in the Trafalgar's bijou Studio 2, a veritable cockpit where no expression goes unseen.

Standout elements include songs such as ‘Couldn’t Get It Up’, Marlow’s pink hot pants and both performers’ flawless make-up looks. - and all of the sass. Marlow’s character is the more cutting of the two, while Ghazi-Torbati’s is the sweeter foil.

A former Edinburgh hit, it’s now been transplanted to London’s West End, while firmly maintaining its Fringe feel. It’s a tricky challenge to address; how do you maintain a balance between raw creativity and a polished production? But this team manages to strike the right chord.

In a very fitting end, the show ends with a standing ovation, followed by a dance party and, finally, a sashay away.

Runs until 5th January 2019

Reviewed by Bhakti Gajjar

Photo credit: Pamela Raith

Killer Joe - Review

Trafalgar Studios, London


***


Written by Tracy Letts
Directed by Simon Evans

Orlando Bloom

Arguably, the revival of a 25 year-old script is done for one of two reasons; either its excellent writing simply entertains, or it is pertinent to today’s societal trends. With Killer Joe, the rationale is unclear. Billed as a blackly comic thriller, it makes for deeply uncomfortable viewing at times, before switching into an almost farce that can surely not be the intended effect.

The titular Joe Cooper (Orlando Bloom) is a detective by day and contract killer by night. Chris Smith (Adam Gillen) and his father Ansel (Steffan Rhodri) hatch a scheme to hire Joe to shoot Adele (Chris’ mother and Ansel’s ex-wife) and then cash in on her life insurance. Texan to his core and complete with cowboy hat, Joe wreaks havoc within the Smith family before even stepping inside their home.

Although it is Joe who sets the course for the tale, the story’s real focus is Chris’ sister Dottie (Sophie Cookson), an innocent twenty year old taken by the hitman as a retainer pending the life insurance payout. Ownership, agency and inequality are the dominant themes in the play, with the three intersecting most powerfully in the pawn-like Dottie. Cookson is found to be consistently captivating as she captures a young woman transitioning into adulthood.

Bloom unquestionably brings star power to the stage but it appears to takes him some time to get comfortable as Joe. During the second half however he comes more into his own, unleashing the dreadful power that has been quietly simmering below the surface. Elsewhere, Rhodri quietly shines, oscillating seamlessly between disinterest, flippancy and pain.

The other star of the show is its formidable creative trinity as sound, lighting and set designers conjoin to great effect. As a trailer park is neatly transposed on to the stage, the focal point of Grace Smart’s spectacular set is the Smith family home with an impressive depth and attention to detail that suggests authenticity throughout. Edward Lewis’ score and sound design complements the other elements of this production, despite its very occasional tendency to veer towards melodrama. Richard Howell’s lighting design is flashy (often quite literally) and precise.

Yet for all of this production's technical excellence Tracy Letts’ message remains unclear, with the onstage abuse of power proving to be as discomforting as it sounds. Even more jarring is the audience's laughter at such abuse. As today's headlines focus on morality and exploitation, it is hard to reconcile a truly menacing threat (even in dramatic fiction) being viewed as humour - and it is equally difficult to couch Killer Joe as either entertainment or art.

Runs until 18th August

Reviewed by Bhakti Gajjar

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

Le Grand Mort - Review

Trafalgar Studios, London

****

Written by Stephen Clark

Directed by Christopher Renshaw

Julian Clary

It is a rare treat these days to see a play written for its star. So it is with Le Grand Mort, penned by Stephen Clark and created specifically with Julian Clary in mind. Amidst a whirlpool of emotions, the unintended and unspoken sadness of the night is that Clark tragically died last year, never seeing the play brought to life.

Clark has written an exquisite piece that places Clary as Michael, a 50-something architect with a lifestyle that’s a fusion of Hannibal Lecter with, for those who can remember back that far, Graham Kerr’s Galloping Gourmet. (Younger readers may prefer to context Come Dine With Me.) Indeed as the play opens and Clary’s cookery commences, the air inside the compact Trafalgar 2 becomes quickly thick with the scent (stench?) of frying onions.

The action never leaves Michael’s kitchen, a fully functioning showpiece of a set from designer Justin Nardella, in which the preening professional is preparing pasta puttanesca (literally whore’s pasta) as he awaits the arrival of the much younger, rough-trade Tim. We learn that this is the first potentially romantic liaison of the two men after a period of pub-based flirting, but with a rack of chic kitchen knives ever prominent, menace is clear from the outset.

Clark’s writing has a cadence that’s rarely found these days, conjuring up images from a prose that is as assonant as it is meticulous. The whole piece runs for a non-stop 90mins, the first third of which is virtually a Clary monologue. One could almost be witnessing a grown-up version of The Joan Collins Fan Club such is Clary’s wit and persona - even if the patter he regales is a gruesome comment on death and necrophilia.

The arrival of James Nelson-Joyce’s Tim catapults the evening into a 21st century Sleuth. We learn that little of what the young man says is true - however it is clear from both his perfect physique and razor sharp wit, matching Michael's repartee word for word, that he is irresistible to the architect.

Clark’s writing is graphic and as his narrative unfolds to encompass incestuous paedophilia it is clear that his two protagonists are deeply damaged souls. But whilst the play’s language and its acting soar, it is hard to care too much for either man - even if Nelson-Joyce’s impressive nudity does briefly shift one’s attention from cook to cock.

The performances here are unquestionably first class and while Le Grand Mort may not be quite the comedy it set out to be, treat yourself to a large glass of Montepulciano and savour the work that’s on offer. Clark truly proves that there’s no fool like an old fool.

Runs to 28 October

Photo credit: Scott Rylander

Late Company – Review

Trafalgar Studios, London



****


Written by Jordan Tannahill
Directed by Michael Yale

Lucy Robinson, Lisa Stevenson and David Leopold

The stage is set for a dinner party in Late Company, a play that is making a rare and well deserved transfer across town from the fringe's Finborough to the West End's Trafalgar Studios. The opening dialogue is packed with wit and humour and yet, as the audience quickly discovers, this is not a happy occasion; rather it’s quite the opposite. This is a dinner that much like Titus Andronicus' endgame, is a meal that not one person around the table wishes to attend.

Joel Shaun-Hastings – the only child of Debora and Michael – has recently taken his own life and one of his bullying peers is Curtis Dermot. A child tormented by guilt that is, for a large part, compounded by an external narrative and gossip, Dermot is invited to this dinner of penance with his parents. The evening could almost be simultaneously billed as a cure both for the Shaun-Hastings’ grief as well as for the Curtis’ individual and familial demons – a very tall order.

Over guacamole, pasta and wine, the tale unravels. New facts come to light throughout the evening, each adding a new layer of complexity to the story and ultimately serving to cloud assignment of blame.

And the blame is spread in many different directions. Both sets of parents face scrutiny about their parenting styles. Attitudes to sexuality within the room and in society are examined, while mental health, bullying, perception and social media usage are also examined. It’s clear that there are many factors at play here, explored in a tight 75 minutes by a sterling cast.

Todd Boyce and Alex Lowe play the fathers and Lucy Robinson and Lisa Stevenson the mothers. Robinson is excellent in her ability to capture the dual tension of Debora’s grief. Her bereaved mother not only has a need to grieve but also to find closure. Stevenson provides a complex emotional ballast to her counterpart, in a majestic performance.

Arguably, the most striking character on the stage is David Leopold’s Curtis. The weight of his guilt appears to flit between being negligible and crushing – and it is this that sits at the crux of the problem in Debora’s eyes. Tough questions are raised about the nature of remorse and how it should be demonstrated, or indeed even recognised, in the most appropriate manner.

Most gripping is the fact that Curtis is a child, or at least he was. When offered a drink, he asks for a glass of milk and taps away on his phone as expected of a regular teenager. Yet although the milk is soon forgotten, replaced by a cigarette outside, it remains in plain sight; a constant reminder that he is straddling that perilous transition from childhood to adulthood. As the evening progresses, his growth is alternately impressive and heart-breaking.

75% of suicides are male, as information from Campaign Against Living Miserably in the programme informs us. And as the play aptly illustrates, it is a deeply complex issue that can be unpacked to some extent on stage, but leaves a plethora of further questions unanswered.

Under Michael Yale’s capable direction, Late Company is a high-calibre, punchy production with excellence running through every strand. After launching from an intriguing premise, it runs rapidly through a series of highly pertinent themes, sparking thoughts that continue well after the figurative curtain falls.

Runs until 16 September
Reviewed by Bhakti Gajjar

Lunch and The Bow Of Ulysses - Review

Trafalgar Studios, London

*****

Written by Steven Berkoff

Directed by Nigel Harman

Shaun Dooley and Emily Bruni

In a powerfully devastating and unrelentingly humorous look at the dark and unspoken truths manifest in the psyches of men and women after decades spent together in a relationship, the double header of Steven Berkoff’s Lunch and The Bow of Ulysses at Trafalgar Studios is gripping theatre that will possibly provide less than comfortable cab rides home for some of the couples in the audience.

Starting with Lunch, the audience is introduced to the plays’ only characters played by Emily Bruni and Shaun Dooley, on a beach (outstandingly minimalist and effective set design from Lee Newby) and portrays the raw passion, emotion, insecurities and yearning that comes during those first moments of courtship - that first night, week, month are frequently referenced - between two eventual life partners. Bruni and Dooley create a stand out chemistry that offers a profound fluidity to the show.

Fast forwarding from that initial encounter on the beach, the audience are presented with their second course, the Bowl of Ulysses. Transported through the rabbit hole of reality, mundanity and time itself the two characters are 20 years older, with Nigel Harman coaxing a harrowing contrast in tone, performance, humour and light heartedness.

It is undeniable how time and life has transformed the pair, but without special effects (or even makeup), just a change of coat and a tying up of the hair, the deliverance of this clear passing of time by just their stage presence is a credit to the performers.

Berkoff is clearly an equal opportunities writer as he points out the numerous and apparent flaws of both sexes. We see his characters launch consecutively devastating attacks on each other in the form of mini monologues with cross hairs aimed solely at the inadequacies of the other, each more brutal and razor sharp than the last.

Ringing throughout the evening is a scorching reality in both script and performance. The production acts as one giant mirror, compelling the audience to look in horror yet all the while wearing smile as they enjoy the and enjoying the show’s potent dark flavours.

To call the plays uncompromising in their articulation of people’s need for companionship and all the wonderful and stark flaws of our species would be an understatement. Whether you walk away from this play electrified or shaken, there is an undeniable honesty in Berkoff’s masterpiece.

Runs until 5th November

Reviewed by Josh Kemp

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

Vanities: The Musical - Review

Trafalgar Studios, London


****


Music and lyrics by David Kirshenbaum
Book by Jack Heifner
Directed and choreographed by Racky Plews

Lizzy Connolly, Ashleigh Gray and Lauren Samuels

With Racky Plews' production, and some 40 years after Jack Heifner's play premiered in New York, Vanities in its musical iteration finally crosses the Atlantic to make its London debut.

A three-handler, Kathy, Mary and Joanne are Texan women who we meet as teenage high school cheerleaders on the day of what was to be Kennedy's assassination. Over four acts the musical charts the trio through their college years, adulthood and divergent paths.

In part it's an everywoman story – about dreams that are aspired to, many of which remain unfulfilled as lives play out and compromises are made. And while male fallibility proves a consistent theme, David Kirshenbaum's lyrics explore and test the bonds of female friendship to the best that a man’s perspective can probably offer. Entertaining throughout, even if the story is heavy on the cheese it is the outstanding production values of this modestly staged piece that make it fizz. 

Ashleigh Gray, Lauren Samuels and Lizzy Connolly play the friends, each bringing a perfectly nuanced weight to their very different characters. As one might expect from such a talented line up the performances are flawless, with vocals and close harmonies that are delightful.

Some of the lines are caustically clever. As one of the friends remarks in her older years, she may be a woman who "doesn't know the joy of motherhood" but "does know the relief of abortion". Some of the wit is razor sharp, reminding one perhaps of Stephen Schwartz's song Popular, from Wicked, expanded into an entire show.

The design is classy too with Andrew Riley making clever use of the Studio's compact space. Richard Mawbey's wig work is similarly sensational and the footwear is fabulous. Not just killer dialogue, the killer heels are stunning! Hidden away offstage, Tamara Saringer's 5 piece band are equally sassy. 

Notwithstanding that the show was written by men, this production has a fabulously female feel to it throughout. With Plews’ pinpoint direction and choreography proving sensitive and perceptive throughout. Focussing on the detail, it is the minutest facial expressions that she coaxes from her actors that carry as much of the narrative as their enchanting vocals.

Only on for another couple of weeks, the story may be as tight as its slight, but an exquisite cast makes for an evening of rather gorgeous theatre.

Runs until 1st October

Photo credit: Pamela Raith

Firebird - Review

Trafalgar Studios, London


***


Written by Phil Davies
Directed by Edward Hall

Callie Cooke and Phadlut Sharma

Transferring from a sell-out run at Hampstead's Downstairs theatre last year, Phil Davies' Firebird tackles the ghastly undercurrent of child sexual exploitation that blights so many of this country's towns and young people.

Pitched in a fictional Northern town, the play is at its most touching in the exchanges between the deeply harmed and 14yo Tia (played by Callie Cooke), who has been placed in local authority care since a baby and her friend Katie, who by contrast has at least a loving mum in her life and a background sheltered from ruthless violent abuse.

The play opens with a well worded exchange between the two kids, that subtly hints at Tia being, in her words "damaged goods". In what is Davies' first full length play, this dialog displays a talent for carefully crafted drama. The one act play concludes with this opening scene continuing - however in between the two halves of this poignant park-set scene, Davies' subjects us to the horrors Tia endures and its here that his dramatic structure weakens. We shift from the brilliant pathos of the two girls' friendship (and Waterloo Road's Tahirah Sharif who plays Katie is a carefully crafted turn), to first a kebab shop, thence to an abuser's house and finally a police station.

At the take-away joint Phadlut Sharma is AJ, a flashily impressive (to Tia at least) Asian man who knows how to groom and who quickly impresses the naive child. Inside the bedroom of torture however, we are subject to the excruciating pain of what Tia has to endure. There is so much blood and shouting however, that Davies' dramatic impact is lost amongst the yells. It's not pleasant to watch, but it's also not that moving either, drifting dangerously close to prurient sensationalism in place of dramatic structure. When the scene shifts to the police station, Sharma, who here doubles up as a disinterested detective, fails to convince. As we read the real life nightmares of agencies charged with protecting children and which failed abysmally in their duties, Sharma’s cop is just too much of a poorly fleshed out shallow cliché.

The strength of this piece however rests with Cooke’s superhuman performance. Just out of drama school, Cooke throws herself vocally and physically into this most consuming of performances. And when, in the closing scene, Katie invites her back home for dinner with her mum, Tia's struggling to comprehend such an unsolicited act of kindness, amidst a world that has only shown her contempt, is truly heartbreaking.

In the light of the Rochdale and Oxford abuse scandals (to name but two) there is an important story to be told here. Davies doesn't pull his punches, but sometimes "less is more". One only has to think of Bryony Lavery's Frozen, a play that that dealt with the harrowing impact of murderous paedophilia but which had no onstage horrors, relying instead only upon a brilliantly crafted narrative and commentary.

Davies is to be saluted. Whilst his writing is sometimes patchy, Firebird is a brave and contemporary play that tackles a horrendous situation, head on. And in Callie Cooke’s performance, Edward Hall has unearthed a cracker of a leading lady.

Runs until 19th March

Photo credit:  Robert Day

As Is - Review

Trafalgar Studios, London

****

Written by William M. Hoffman
Directed by Andrew Keates

David Poynor and Steven Webb

As one sits in the Trafalgar Studios waiting for Andrew Keates’ production of As Is to begin, there is an awareness of a gentle backdrop of conversation that eventually distils into individuals speaking of when they learned of their AIDS diagnosis. Gradually it builds, with statistics about the numbers of people dying or infected beginning to get louder. Perhaps the most uncomfortable soundbites are the (1981) news stories declaiming in loud American voices the menace of the Gay Plague along with vox pop interviews of members of the public saying how “they only have themselves to blame”.

It is two years since Keates brought William M Hoffman’s play to London’s Finborough Theatre and it has grown in impact. The set of the play is sparse but effective as a hospital space / New York loft complete with prerequisite red drainage pipes suspended from the ceiling. Strange multi-coloured light boxes hang on the walls. But perhaps most interesting is the use of the blackboard paint on the three other walls with names written in chalk. The audience is invited to write the names of AIDS victims known to them with the chalk provided.

Essentially As Is is a love story. Rich and Saul are a couple. They have lived and loved together for a long time. Saul is deeply happy and contented. He sees the relationship as having structure and stability. He describes it as being “Something to fall back on when life throws you a curved ball”. But Rich is stagnating. A writer “who can’t”, but who finds a muse in Chet (Giles Cooper) who is all muscle and California Dreaming. Rich (played excellently by Steven Webb) is leaving Saul to live with Chet. The only item from their life together he wants is the Barcelona chair. Then Rich discovers he has AIDS.

Suddenly the whole cast are on stage declaiming how Rich’s diagnosis has affected them. His caterer mother’s company loses contracts, his sister’s new hotshot boyfriend won’t meet the family for fear and embarrassment, whilst his brother has a wife who forbids him to have any contact with Rich for fear of the health of their children. All around is ignorance, panic and a crescendo of voices to deliver the line “What are my chances?”.

Rich is taken back by Saul (David Poynor) whose tenderness and real love of Rich is incredibly moving. Saul is prepared to stand by his man even though he may be gambling his own life. Rich gradually comes to realise the power of true love.

The issue of sex crops up now and then as you would expect. Some of the content is quite explicit but not gratuitous, with both Bevan Celestine and Russell Morton simmering with sexuality in leather and a hilarious scene where Rich and Saul discuss sex and how much they miss it.

Part public health information and part entertainment, As Is never preaches, rather it delivers. This is a laugh-out-loud and cry-out-loud production which explores what it is like to be outside of society, not only as an HIV+ individual, but also as a human being facing his or her own mortality. Amidst hilarious one-liners, we are reminded that none of us know what lies ahead of us. We must not just enjoy life, we must also protect ourselves and our health.

In publicly declaring his own HIV+ diagnosis Keates has made a personal stand that it as inspirational today as Hoffman’s prose was decades ago. The emotional and physical importance of As Is demands that it be seen.

Runs until 1st August 2015
Guest reviewer: Lucy Middleton

The Father - Review

Trafalgar Studios, London

****

Written by August Strindberg
In a new version by Laurie Slade
Directed by Abbey Wright

Alex Ferns

Few go to a Strindberg play looking for an harmonious depiction of the sexes and this co-production between Emily Dobbs' Jagged Fence and Making Productions, while sharp in its execution, won’t do much to radicalise expectations. 

Written in 1887 by the deeply embittered Swedish playwright, on the brink of marital separation and in a fashion that has triggered many autobiographical interpretations, The Father pitches husband and wife into a dark custody battle that predates paternity tests and equal rights. Laurie Slade’s modern adaptation – requested by his friend, theatre director Joe Harmston for a 2012 production – is driven more by collaborative forces than real-life drama, but it retains the original’s antagonistic bite.

Director Abbey Wright takes the reins for this intimate production with great success. While the Captain’s last-minute attempt to break the fourth wall doesn’t sit well with the play’s largely naturalistic style, Wright’s depiction of conflict – whether that be between husband and wife, mother and daughter, or father and child – is as stylish as it is evocative. As the warring characters face each other in mirror image, Wright clouds the dialogue’s clear oppositions with vivid visual similarities.

Thomas Coombes is a treat as Nöjd, the playful trooper who, if rumour is to believed, has impregnated a member of the Captain’s staff. While Nöjd is unable to deny a certain degree of intimacy, it is beyond his power to prove whether or not the baby is his. Coombes excels at lacing Nöjd’s crude, pastoral expression - “no guarantee that a night in the hay means a bun in the oven” - with a cheeky, modern charm, furnishing Slade’s notion that this is “a modern play, which happens to be set in the C.19th”.

What seems like idle gossip transforms into psychologically taut obsession as the play pulls towards its inevitable conclusion. Just as Nöjd doubts his lover’s fidelity, Alex Ferns’s dazzling Captain ploughs his own memories, as he questions whether young Bertha, who calls him ‘Papa', is actually his issue or was in fact conceived by wife Laura (excellent on-stage work from Dobbs) during a lovers' tryst. Ferns is vibrantly volatile and while other characters are equally paired in their disputes, he retains a chilling control over the tempo of the piece. 

While the relationship between the Captain and his wife provides the thrust of this narrative, and the Captain and his Doctor (Barnaby Sax) are splendidly matched as rivals, it is the tender and trusting affinity between Captain and Nurse (June Watson) that brings the strongest emotional clout: “rest your breast on my chin”, the Captain commands his attendant, as a redundant Laura looks on jealously. This gentle, strikingly maternal relationship is complemented by James Turner's set and Gary Bowman lighting, all stripped-back, monochrome as a Gothic aesthetic gradually melts into warmer reds.

Husband and wife may be “black and white...different species” but there’s a faith in relationships and the power of one gender to sooth and complement another. While this production doesn’t fall far from Strindberg’s tree, it’s a well-designed and interrogative take on an unfashionable play.

Runs until 11th April 2015

Guest reviewer: Amelia Forsbrook

The Ruling Class - Review

Trafalgar Studios, London

*****

Written by Peter Barnes

Directed by Jamie Lloyd

James McAvoy

Director Jamie Lloyd continues to prove a deliciously petulant force in London theatre with productions of The Hothouse, Urinetown and most recently Assassins that have all sought to parody an accepted view of society, government or history. With his new production of Peter Barnes’ The Ruling Class, Lloyd again takes aim at what is shown to be a blatant madness that lies within institutionalised power structures, specifically in this work the control and influence of the English political and moneyed elites.

Barnes 1969 satire displayed a vision for the timelessness of sharp political farce, with The Ruling Class feeling as painfully poignant and relevant amongst today’s New Labour and Cameron’s Bullingdon buddies as it would have done in the Swinging Sixties, yet with moments in the play that resonate with our era’s phone hacking scandal and a ruling “Old Boys” club.

Lloyd again pairs up with James McAvoy, directing the Scottish actor in an unrelenting portrayal of the schizophrenic 14th Earl of Gurney. Mcavoy's performance will have one both crying with laughter and shifting uncomfortably, such is the recognisability of Gurney’s world. As the play progresses it darkens, becoming increasingly disquieting yet enthralling. Gurney’s arc highlights the contrasts of his world, and when he is ultimately brought into the fold of the ruling class, McAvoy offers a truly terrifying reality, performed brilliantly - and thats even without his topless unicycling!

The entire cast’s energy is sensational throughout, with Joshua McGuire in particular continuing to display his talented versatility. And in the event that Barne's carefully crafted irony may have been lost on the audience, a tenet of the play’s message is spelled out in an interjection from Anthony O’Donnell’s butler, Tucker, reminding us that it is 1% of the country owns 50% of the nation's property. A comment that is as relevant today as ever.

In what is fast becoming a recognised double act of theatrical creativity, Lloyd turns to Soutra Gilmour for her distinctive design work. Staged in the Trafalgar Studios, a venue that, in a previous existence as the Whitehall Theatre was famous for farce in the 50’s and 60’s there is a comforting appropriateness in the location. Lloyd however would be appalled should his shows ever be mistaken for comfortable viewing. The Ruling Class is satire at its best, powerfully written and sharply presented. Unmissable.

Runs until 11th April 2015

Dessa Rose - Review

Trafalgar Studios, London

****

Book and lyrics by Lynn Ahrens
Music by Stephen Flaherty.
Based upon the book by Sherley Anne Williams 
Directed by Andrew Keates

Cassidy Janson and Cynthia Erivo

The last twenty twenty years or so have seen the troubled racist history of America’s Deep South prove fertile ground for musical theatre with Jason Robert Brown’s Parade and Kander and Ebb’s Scottsboro Boys, both based around actual events, recently playing to London audiences. Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty’s Dessa Rose tackles the USA’s grim domestic history with a fictional tale of hope and inspiration set amongst the harshest of times in the Antebellum South when black enslavement was the norm. The story follows two young women, Dessa Rose a rebellious slave and Ruth a white farmer’s wife. Abandoned by her husband, Ruth, extraordinarily for her time, forms a compassionate bond with a group of escaped slaves, who establish a community on her farmland, under her benign acceptance.

In the oppressive confines of the Trafalgar’s Studio 2 andrew Keates has fashioned an impressive representation of these desperately cruel years. Chains hang from the roof, whilst the simplest of props suggest the Hot Box, or cramped miniscule solitary chamber to which slaves would be confined by their owners as punishment for misdemeanours. Clever movement and an inspired use of percussion, suggest both time and culture.

Keates is helped immeasurably by having some of London’s finest performing talent to work with. Cynthia Erivo whose Celie in 2013’s The Color Purple was one of the year’s theatrical highlights, plays Dessa Rose. Erivo’s presence on stage is at all times compelling and often electrifying. She acts with her voice, her body and intriguingly, with her eyes. At once the righteously vengeful slave, the grieving lover and a young mother, one wants to cheer and weep for her Dessa. Erivo closes the first act with Twelve Children a song about her character's siblings who had all met tragic fates and a number that is one of Ahrens and Flaherty’s most poignant. Erivo only understands “exceptional” as a work ethic and she remains one of the most exciting faces to have emerged in recent years.

Cassidy Janson’s Ruth is another display of excellence. Her laconic Southern Belle is a complex character, mastering rejection, desire and maternal care in a carefully crafted work. Elsewhere, Sharon Benson’s White Milk and Red Blood is a moment of spine-tingling tenderness, whilst Edward Baruwa’s Nathan, a slave ultimately to become Ruth’s lover, achieves a perfect mix of wry comedy with melodrama. Mopping up a number of roles, John Addison particularly convinces as a Sheriff and a slave trader, often recalling the gritty ugliness of the time that Quentin Tarantino captured in his movie Django Unchained. Fela Lufadeju also compels with gorgeous voice and movement as Dessa’s doomed lover Kaine.

Whilst many of the songs have pace and a distinct Southern influence on their melodies, as can be the case with Ahrens and Flaherty mediocrity occasionally creeps into their composition and their lyrics can seem blunt when compared to Brown or to Kander and Ebb. It is of course a tall order to tackle any such horrific scenario through the medium of song and dance and credit to Ahrens and Flaherty for such a powerful and imaginative work but nonetheless, their writers’ scalpel needs whetting.

Dessa Rose’s story is moving and under Dean Austin’s baton the music is free flowing. The acting is outstanding and Andrew Keates has again assembled one of the finest companies around. A compelling production, not to be missed.


Runs until 30th August 2014