Show Off - Review

Waterloo East Theatre, London

****
March 19 2012

This review was originally written for The Public Reviews



Show Off is an innovative concept from the emerging theatrical dynamo that is Jack Shalloo. With an impressive string of acting credits to his name, and his solo album released last year, Shalloo has now turned impresario, mounting this 80 minute one-act showcase, comprising five play extracts from different writers and a glimpse of his own forthcoming musical London Time.

Worthy of mention was Next by Duncan MacInnes, a fast-paced irreverent observation of young actors eking out a living. Innocent, by the same writer, tackling the gritty issue of murder and presumed guilt, stumbled a little and was probably hindered by its allocated, but unforgiving, ten minute slot.

The evening’s penultimate performance, Reconciled by David Proud, was excellent. The play tackled death, incest and an ultimately murderous jealousy borne of sibling rivalry, with insight and a chilling sensitivity. Vanessa Carr gave a tour de force performance as a daughter abused by her now dead father, but jealous of her profoundly deaf sister who had been spared the abuse because of her disability.

The final turn was a 4 song extract from London Time, a musical drawn from Shalloo’s album London Soul. Shalloo directed this, ably assisted by his co-composer Spesh Maloney and choreographer Adam Murray. The book of the musical is being developed by James Muller, whose play Grace, had been performed earlier in the evening. The show displays immense promise and Shalloo’s songs are undoubtedly strong and often witty. The storyline though is currently too shallow, and as with his play, Muller needs to check his writing for credibility.

Musically, some of the numbers, particularly Dad Song, made the transition from CD to stage brilliantly and truly benefited from an ensemble treatment. Shalloo however is a tough act to follow and Chris Carswell as Matt, the story’s protagonist, lacked the cheeky flair that the writer had breathed into the original solo recordings. Katie Bernstein’s performance as Matt’s (authentically Mancunian) out of town love interest, who tires of his boorish City Boy lifestyle was another of the evening’s highlights.

Whilst some of the night’s material was 3 star, other parts were considerably better and suggest several good things to look out for in the future. And what was undoubtedly 5 star was Shalloo’s vision in putting the show together: he’s clearly a shrewd young man. When the next Show Off comes around, try not to miss it.

30 years on - Looking back on The Long Good Friday

 *****

 

Hoskins addresses friends....

It is sobering to acknowledge that more than 30 years have passed since The Long Good Friday was released to the British audience. Film more than any other medium, has the power to jolt us into this recognition of time passing. The viewing of a striking piece of cinema can stay with one for a long time and combining this power of recall, with the massive audience that a movie can be exposed to ( as compared to the more intimate reach of say a stage masterpiece, restricted to only one theatre, rather than a general release to cinemas)  and a film, especially one that is popular, can very quickly be established as a recognised moment, or milestone, in a society's cultural history.



..& enemies in The Long Good Friday

The Long Good Friday is one such seminal and popular movie. I first saw it on its release in 1981 having just finished my A levels and having grown up in 70's London. The film’s impact then was breathtaking. The storyline was brave and credible.  The screenplay was from Barrie Keefe, whose mastery of the nuances and grit of London at the start of Thatcher's 80s had an almost Dickensian accuracy for its time and with a soundtrack that at all times complemented the graphic and often brutal imagery of the movie. And atop this excellence, a collection of performances that would go on to define many celebrated acting careers, all deftly helmed by the perceptive eye of the late John Mackenzie.

So why write these thoughts right now? A chance scan through Twitter this week told me of a screening of the movie, at a small screen in Stratford E15, followed by a Q&A with producer Barry Hanson. How to resist? I rarely visit this part of London (though when I do, to visit the Theatre Royal Stratford, the entertainment is usually excellent) and so to arrive and witness the dominance of the Olympic park construction bestriding the area, the resonance of the film’s vision for how London was even then on the cusp of change, rang so true.

The film's story follows the decline of a "traditional" East End gangster Harold Shand, who fails to recognise the power of the tentacles of an Irish politically-based terror campaign that is methodically waging a violent and destructive war against his 'Corporation'. A sub plot depicts a relationship that Shand is seeking to cultivate with the US mafia to fund  the development of a future London Olympic park and who have sent two key players over from New York to negotiate with him. As he is betrayed and his empire disintegrates not only before him but humiliatingly, in front of the Mafia stooges too, Shand's rage, disbelief and inability to cope with the new world order, is a masterful performance by Bob Hoskins.

Helen Mirren plays Victoria, a youthful but smart moll/wife to Shand, and it was interesting to hear from Hanson, and indeed to concur with him, that in his opinion, throughout the story, it is Victoria who is perhaps the most powerful and manipulative character of all.

But Hoskins and Mirren, whilst the two star names of the movie, led a cast that had not only aspects of the UK's established best - Dave King as a deliciously bent copper stands out - but so many other names who were to reach later stardom. That Pierce Brosnan, a future James Bond no less, as a young bare chested Irish assassin barely features on the credits and Derek Thompson who played a critical role in the film's story and who was to go on to lead the cast of BBC TV's Casualty drama series but who was professionally unknown at the time of filming, is a measure of the quality of the production's casting.

I make no bones about it: I admire and enjoy the film. Keefe's script is as timely today as it was then and his writing, combined with Hoskin's unique vocal style, is the blackest of comedy. The writer has a talent for penning moments of deepest London based Blitz-spirit irony. Hoskins' farewell speech to the Americans in particular shines, though the script is peppered with wryly observed gems, brilliantly delivered.

With the London Olympics about to start, and Operation Elveden digging into police corruption, to echo just two of the films themes, the story's message remains as relevant today as it was at the start of the 80s. If you've seen the film before dust down the DVD or rent it from iTunes/Netflix, and watch it again. If you haven't yet seen it, then do so. The Long Good Friday is British filmmaking at its best.

Floyd Collins - Review

Southwark Playhouse , London

****

March 18 2012

Music and Lyrics: Adam Guettel

Book: Tina Landau

Director: Derek Bond

Deep below platform 1 of London Bridge Station, the Vault at the Southwark Playhouse, has again yawned open to reveal a theatrical gem. Floyd Collins tells the fascinating tale from 1925 of the caver of that name. Trapped underground following a rockfall, Collins could still be reached and contacted by those who climbed down to attempt his rescue. That connection provided a conduit for the caver’s hopes and fears to be brought to the surface, and as the days of his entrapment passed, so the media interest in him grew. Collins’ father's farm in Edmonson County , Kentucky, became the first ever site for a media “circus” as radio, press, and newsreel cameramen sought to broadcast the sensational events playing out deep underground. Such was the interest in Collins’ plight that President Coolidge himself was kept informed.

Tina Landau and Adam Guettel have set this slice of American history to music, where it was first performed off-Broadway in 1996. De-constructing the legendary tale of Collins, their musical is structured around a close observation of the people whose lives were caught up in these events.

As Collins, Glenn Carter clearly  has the physique and vigour of a man who earns his living exploring caves.  By simply climbing over, and  wriggling through and around, the simplest of ladders and boxes , he  transports us to the “Indiana Jones” type world, deep underground, that he loves. When the rock-fall occurs, staged by the use of sound and the clever movement of fellow cast members, it is quite simply Carter's exceptional acting that screams at us terrifyingly that here is a man, trapped,  quite possibly for life. Carter’s voice is also a delight, and his transition from youthful gusty optimism and vigour, to troubled fear and grim realisation, is beautifully performed.

Robyn North plays Nellie,  Floyd’s sister. A character that is complex and fragile, recently having been discharged from an asylum and whose love for her brother is clearly deep, possibly too deep. North’s performance is enchanting, and her performance of Through The Mountain is both moving and passionate. Her failure to comprehend the cynical media razzmatazz, when all that she simply wishes is her brother’s safe return, is touchingly performed.

Ryan Sampson also delivers a great performance. As Skeets Miller a local cub reporter, whose diminutive physique enables him to squeeze through the cave to bring succour and comfort to Collins, his reporting of the events were to win him a Pulitzer Prize. Sampson’s journey from intrusive hack to hero is well brought to life.

The show’s design by James Perkins fully exploits the depth and architecture of the Vault, the ancient railway arches almost naturally evoking the Kentucky catacombs.

The 8 piece band are excellent under Tim Jackson’s direction, with banjo and harmonica lending a subtle air of authenticity. A minor fault, but three weeks into the run and with the benefit of microphones and clever modern technology, the sound balance should by now be excellent. It was therefore frustrating that solo male voices were often inaudible above the music.

The show is unquestionably a triumph, and should be seen. A moving piece of theatre in which director Derek Bond has coaxed excellence from every member of his talented company. Oh, and in the opinion of the wives in our party, Glenn Carter is gorgeous!

Plays untlil March 31st

Piaf - The Songs - Review

Pleasance Theatre, Islington

****

This review was originally written for The Public Reviews

Simply staged, with roses adorning two tables, and a white backdrop, Eve Loiseau as Piaf evoked “ the Little Sparrow” with a delightful precision and clarity in an evening that paid homage to the French legend. Opening with La Vie en Rose, Loiseau delivered Piaf’s classic with an authentic yet fragile strength and on closing one’s eyes, it was possible to truly hear the subtleties and nuances of Piaf’s timbre in Loiseau’s performance. The quality of her mimicry put me in mind of Tracie Bennett’s recent Garland, and Jane Horrock’s wonderful Little Voice.

The set list for the evening was well thought out and included most of Piaf’s classic hits, together with a sprinkling of lesser known numbers. At times, Loiseau interjected with stories of Piaf, marking out not only the singer’s achievements but also the tragedies of her difficult life.

But whilst the music and singing were superbly performed, the production as a whole was less than perfect. The show’s first half was beset with sound faults that should have been picked up in rehearsal and the backdrop was an extremely creased fabric. Much of the performance’s visual impact was created by back projected stills and grainy archive footage shone on to the backcloth and the poor quality of this screen created an air of unprofessionalism that the performers did not deserve. The lack of programme to credit the performers and creative team also did them a disservice.
Accompanying Loiseau were Fiona Barrow on violin, and Edward Jay on accordion. Their delightful performances were as evocative as those of the singer. The show’s overture and subsequent entr’acte, whilst perhaps a little too long, were delightfully atmospheric, lacking only the pungent smell of Gauloises to replicate the air of 1950s Paris.

Notwithstanding the various flaws, the show packed a punch. Act One included such gems as Padam Padam and Autumn Leaves and the second half built to a skillfully manipulated climax with Loiseau singing a feisty Milord, before closing the show with Piaf’s signature tune Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien, that had many of the audience clearly moved.

Loiseau treats her material with a combination of respect and excellence and she and her musicians are 5 star performers in a show that needs just a little tightening up. If you enjoy the Piaf sound, then go: you will not be disappointed.

Frozen - Review

Maltings Arts Theatre, St Albans

**1/2

Writer: Bryony Lavery

Director: Stephen Cunningham

This review was originally written for The Public Reviews

24 February 2012

Frozen touches upon some of the darkest aspects of (in)humanity and is written to be performed within simple staging parameters. The cast comprises Ralph, a serial killing paedophile, Nancy the grieving mother whose 10 year old daughter Rhona, he has murdered and Agnetha, a psychiatrist responsible for assessing his behaviour. It is a challenging production to stage.

The play opens with Nancy tending her garden and sending Rhona on an errand, the journey that will lead to her being snatched. Interestingly, a gardening theme is echoed in the National Theatre’s London Road, written 13 years later. This popular domestic activity is now being recognised as a metaphor by which normal sub/urban life can be defined, a task so humdrum and routine that it throws into sharp contrast the horror of a nearby murder.

The aims and scope of the play are massive. With a lot of the text delivered as monologues, some deeply distressing, there is a huge responsibility upon the cast to carry the intensity of Lavery’s writing effectively. There is nowhere for an actor to hide within this production.

Ralph is possibly one of the darkest monsters of modern theatre. An apparently typical “white van man”, no Hannibal Lecter he, his most chilling feature being this apparent normality. John Stenhouse tackles the role admirably, portraying a breadth of emotion as he told Ralph’s story. However, whilst he had breadth, I felt he lacked depth. I have seen an audience flinch in disgust and loathing as Ralph describes aspects of his perverted sexual appetite, but Stenhouse failed to reach the understated menace that surrounds his character’s supposed normality and which, in the right hands, can chill an entire theatre.

If Ralph is the darkest modern monster, then the role of Nancy is arguably one of the most harrowing. Debbie Oakes as Nancy played the role sensitively, avoiding the slip from tragedy to melodrama, however for me, her harrow was just not deep enough. It felt as though we were spectating upon her pain, rather than sharing it. In her closing speech to act one, acknowledging the grief that her surviving elder daughter Ingrid has suffered following the murder, Oakes moved me deeply, but those moments were all too rare.

As Agnetha, Lisa White is excellent, accurately portraying not only the doctor's own sense of personal guilt and confusion as a sub-plot unfolds, but also her sense of cluttered mania, as she attempts to manage the therapeutic assessments of Ralph, as well as her own complicated life.

Phil Hamilton’s sound and lighting design enhanced the production, with effective backgrounds to mood and scene.

Sadly on press night there was only a sparse audience in St Albans. Given the hard work and effort that the cast had clearly put into this show, such a poor attendance is disappointing, but it begs the question: Was the show poorly marketed, or was there simply no appetite for such bleak and upsetting theatre in an out of town venue? As in the big city, regional productions are entitled to challenge audiences as well as entertain then, but with London only 30 minutes away by train, a production as dark and adult as Frozen needs to be simply outstanding if an audience is to be attracted.

The play’s writing is largely 5-star and for the power of the text to be conveyed it needs actors of a similar calibre. Anything less, and the arc of this painful story freezes.

Travelling Light - Review

National Theatre, London

February 19 2012

***

Written by: Nicholas Wright
Directed by Nick Hytner
Music by Grant Olding

In some ways, Travelling Light represents what the National Theatre really can do very well. A stunning set design by Bob Crowley that cleverly evokes an Eastern European shtetl at the beginning of the 20^th century, and a use of technology and staging to tell what could be a very imaginative story.

The play charts the development of the exploitation of the motion picture camera developed by the Lumiere brothers into a vehicle for telling fictional stories that can ultimately be projected to paying audiences. In essence, the birth of what Hollywood was to become.

Nicholas Wright opens his tale in 1936 with Maurice Montgomery ( Paul Jesson ) , a Hollywood producer, looking back to his starting out in motion pictures as a young man in the shtetl, inheriting his father's camera.  The young filmmaker is played by Damian Molony,  whose name before emigrating to the USA had been Motel Mendl

Mendl recognises the potential to use the camera to tell stories through film, and a local wealthy timber merchant Jacob Bindel, (Antony Sher) sees the commercial potential in Mendl making films that will tell exciting and fantastic stories that people will want to pay money to see.

The story’s strength lies in its premise that some of the key aspects of film-making were born even in the infancy of the art. The small world of the shtetl sees the movie-makers encounter budgetary constraints, temperamental artists, a meddling (or even visionary) producer, sexual duplicity and even the casting couch. To that extent the story is potentially clever, and at times probably close to being historically accurate in some of the detail it portrays. The National’s use of projection technology to chart the development of Mend’ls black and white silent movies is pleasing – the musical accompaniment written by the talented Grant Olding provides an authentic shtetl sound. It is clear that with his skiffle contribution to One Man , Two Guvnors, and with his work in this production, that there is a very positive creative relationship between Hytner and Olding.

The delivery of the story is however flawed inasmuch as there is an inconsistent use of accent and dialect. In the shtetl, most of the (generally well acted) characters do not have an Eastern European inflection to their voice  with the exception of Bindel, whose distinctive and somewhat contrived accent has already rather mischievously been described as being based around Borat. In a similar observation, the young  Mendl speaks with with no accent whatsoever in the shtetl, yet adopts a broad American-Yiddish brogue as the old man Montgomery by the time he makes it to Hollywood. This dialectic evolution is left unexplained.

The character of Bindel is also just a little too "one-dimensional". The timber merchant describes his journey from poverty to wealth, but we only encounter him as an established person of substance, and see little of his development.  To have Sher play a character who is often little more than a stereotypical cross between Tevye and Zorba ,but without the emotional arc of either of those two cultural legends, seems to me a rare squandering of one of the great acting talents of his generation. The action of the play hops between Hollywood and the flashback shtetl, and the story moves towards a denouement that whilst aiming to be moving and profound is perhaps a little too contrived.

Overall, one is reminded of Tateh , the penniless Jewish immigrant to the USA in Ahrens and Flaherty's musical Ragtime who goes on to make his fortune in the movie industry. Tateh's story is a modest chapter in a much larger canvas, but nonetheless a journey told perhaps a little more succintly than has been portrayed here.

The recent success of the movie The Artist has seen silent film thrust back into contemporary popularity. With that in mind and given the rather distracting vocal inconsistencies in this production, a possible thought to consider is that if this play had perhaps have been devised as a  mimed performance, without dialogue, but with simply more of Olding's music and appropriately projected dialog cards it could possibly have been a more impressive tribute to the era that it sets out to portray.

In repertory and also on tour until June 2

Rocinante! Rocinante! - Review

CLF Theatre, London

****

This review was originally written for The Public Reviews

16 February 2012

Devised by: The Panta Rei Theatre Collective

Director:  Chiara D'Anna

Rocinante! Rocinante! is a participative piece of physical theatre. The production takes the character of Don Quixote, played here by Juancho Gonzalez, as its baseline and weaves a dream-like interaction between Cervantes’ troubled hero and the gravediggers from Hamlet. The cast of seven take us on a journey, performed entirely mise-en-scene that is always thought provoking and at times quite unsettling. Whilst the production is often beautiful, it is not easy to watch, nor is it intended to be. The bleak white-washed space of the CLF theatre in Peckham lends a harsh and unforgivingly clinical air to the performance: wear comfortable clothes and wrap up warm!

Quixote’s pursuit of Dulcinea provides a central thread to the performance, and Stephanie Lewis embodies the subject of the Don’s desire with a ghostly ethereal beauty that at times blurs into hints of Shakespeare’s Ophelia. In a surprisingly effective doubling up of roles, Lewis also plays Quixote’s trusty steed Rocinante, her slender frame evoking a nag well past her prime. The other equine role, that of Sancho Panza’s donkey is performed by Tommy Scott, and with effective use of Lewis’ flowing locks, and cleverly deployed wooden spoons as the donkey’s ears, the two quadrupeds are touchingly evoked on a fraction of the War Horse budget!

Two of the production’s scenes really do stand out . Quixote’s nightmare is a portrayal of a man struggling with paranoid schizophrenia and it is difficult, almost unbearable, to watch. There is no windmill on stage to be tilted at, but neither is there a requirement for one. Gonzalez moves the audience with a depiction of a man who is as terrified as he is unhinged. And elsewhere, in a haunting dream like vision, the suggestion of the tragic drowning of Ophelia is beautifully portrayed.
Other notables in the production are Daniel Rejano who embodies Sancho Panza, with a nod to Fawlty Towers’ Manuel, both characters of course being the “straight guy” to their deluded masters and Chiara D’Anna , who also directs, impressing as a manic gravedigger, Gary.

The play’s stated mission to link these two leading works of English and Spanish literature is a bold conceit and I am not convinced that the argument for such an interaction is effectively made within the show’s one-act 70 minute duration. Nonetheless, the company’s venture into using classical literature to tackle perceptions and tolerance of mental health, is an innovative and refreshing use of theatre.

Runs until March 2