Glorious! - Review

Theatre Royal, Windsor

****

Written by Peter Quilter

Directed by Kirk Jameson

Wendi Peters

Some 20 years after it premiered, Peter Quilter’s Glorious has been revived by Manchester’s Hope Mill Theatre and is now on tour. Quilter tells us of Florence Foster Jenkins, an American singer who in 1944 and at the age of 76, gave her first (and what was to be her last) concert at New York’s Carnegie Hall. What made Jenkins so distinctive a performer was that she lacked virtually any singing talent whatsoever. And while she may possibly have been well aware of her vocal deficiencies, Jenkins possessed a grit and energy that drove her onwards, either oblivious to, or in defiance of, the cynical naysayers who surrounded her – and presented the most remarkable display of courage and spirit.

Wendi Peters is Florence, in a performance that suggests the very best of Hyacinth Bucket and Norma Desmond as she acts with depth and sensitivity. Incredibly well rehearsed, Peters (herself a gifted singer ) has learned to sing ‘badly’, capturing the gauche naivete of her character while at the same time making her believable and incredibly credible. Such is Peters’s take on the Habanera from Carmen that she imbued the awfulness of Jenkins’s vocal screech with a heart-rending perceptive pathos. Not only that, but the evening’s humour, which by the nature of the story needs to played out in quite a deadpan style, is equally mastered by Peters.

Opposite Peters is Matthew James Morrison as Cosmé McMoon her pianist. The genius of Quilter’s storytelling is to bring out the touching and authentic poignancy of the relationship that evolves between the pair, displaying a mutual fondness that transcends the differences both in their ages and backgrounds.

Sioned Jones and Caroline Gruber complete the cast, playing a handful of supporting roles, but this rather delightful story, gently told and charmingly performed, belongs to Wendi Peters. She really is glorious!

Runs until 21st March, then on tour

Yentl - Review

Marylebone Theatre, London

****

Based on the original short story by Isaac Bashevis Singer

Co-written by Gary Abrahams, Elise Esther Hearst & Galit Klas

Directed by Gary Abrahams

Evelyn Krape above Amy Hack 

Drawn from Isaac Bashevis Singer’s famous short story, Yentl tells of a Jewish girl from a shtetl in the Pale of Settlement whose dream is to study Judaism’s holy scriptures in the yeshiva. But with the strictures of her faith excluding women from places of study, it is through Singer’s wonderful imagination that Yentl assumes the identity of a young man, changes her name to Anshel and starts her unique journey.

Life of course bowls its challenges and as Yentl’s narrative unfolds and the course of true love emerges, the complexities of her deceits and desires lead to the most unconventional and uncomfortable ménage a trois. This is a story of a world of orthodox tradition being upended by the most unorthodox of behaviours, played out with a sensitive finesse. What makes Yentl even more distinctive is that the evening’s dialogue seamlessly segues between English and (surtitled) Yiddish, imbuing the story with a rich authenticity.

This production is devised by the Kadimah Yiddish Theatre of Australia under the leadership of the show’s director Gary Abrahams and the company’s artistic director Evelyn Krape and first played in Melbourne four years ago. It speaks much for the cast's belief in this play that three of its quartet of players are from Australia and have journeyed across the globe to bring the show to London.

Amy Hack assumes the title role in a performance that is as delicate as it is powerful. Hack convinces us of Yentl’s passion and her pain.

It is Evelyn Krape herself who lends the most flavoursome sprinkling of Yiddishkeit to the proceedings. Her character is The Figure, a ghostly fusion, if you will, of Greek chorus and the Emcee from Cabaret, who both comments on the story’s calamitous turn of events, as well as at times portraying Yentl’s conscience. Onstage for most of the play, Krape is magnificent in a portrayal that captures the compassion, pathos and above all the self-deprecating satire of Yiddish theatre. Look at Krape to get a glimpse of the dramatic forces that were to inspire the likes of Mel Brooks and Larry David.  

Ashley Margolis and Genevieve Kingsford, respectively play Avigdor and Hodes, the two “innocents” who fall into Yentl’s web of deception. They too give very strong performances that are both believable and credible as we follow their personal experiences of discovery and revelation. 

This is not a show for traditionalists, who may find both the narrative and the moments of occasional nudity troubling. But for those who seek an alternative interpretation of a slice of Jewish literary history, together with the most fabulous tribute to the art of Yiddish theatre, then Yentl is unmissable.

Runs until 12th April

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

The Holy Rosenbergs - Review

Menier Chocolate Factory, London

**

Written by Ryan Craig

Directed by Lindsay Posner

Tracy-Ann Oberman and Dorothea Myer-Bennett

Set in north west London’s Edgware, Ryan Craig’s The Holy Rosenbergs was a muddled collection of Anglo-Jewish stereotypes when it premiered at the National Theatre back in 2011. Fast forward 15 years, and it transpires that time has not treated Craig’s playtext kindly.

David and Lesley Rosenberg had three children. Ruth is a human-rights lawyer working for the United Nations, Jonny is struggling to find his way in life and Danny, who had emigrated to Israel, has recently been killed in action serving as a helicopter pilot with the Israel Defence Forces in Gaza. The play takes place on the eve of Danny’s memorial service at the local synagogue.

Against this backdrop of conflicting views and profound loss, Craig weaves a narrative that lurches from the sensational to the implausible in a two-act play that is at best, problematic. Ruth, and equally improbably, her boss Sir Stephen Crossley (played by Adrian Lukis) who appears half way through the second act, lays out the charges against Israel’s allegedly criminal military conduct, while offering scant criticism of Hamas’s corrupted governance of Gaza and minimal objective comment upon its terrorist activities. It has sadly taken the horrors of October 7th 2023 and that day's ensuing revelations, including the intimate connections that have been found to exist between agencies of the UN and Hamas, to realise the naïveté, or perhaps more accurately, the useful idiocy, of Craig’s argument.

Done well, Jewish self-deprecation can provide moments of masterful drama as demonstrated by the likes of 20th century greats such as Sheldon Harnick and Jack Rosenthal. Craig aspires to be an (Arthur) Miller Lite, offering us clumsily constructed nods to the American's Willy Loman and Joe Keller in the character of David Rosenberg. His writing however doesn’t come close to matching Miller's genius.

So the work may be profoundly flawed, but what of Lindsay Posner’s production values? Tracy-Ann Oberman as Lesley and Dorothea Myer-Bennett's Ruth are both magnificent. Oberman in particular, capturing the complex emotions of a mother struggling to maintain her equilibrium while simultaneously dealing with unimaginably traumatic grief. Her take on the role is credible and carefully crafted. Equally, Myer-Bennett in a part that is hard to be seen as believable, makes a first-class job of some mediocre writing.

As for the men, Adrian Lukis's human rights lawyer offers up the best work of the night. As David, Nicholas Woodeson struggles to suspend our disbelief, and though his final scenes in the play are delivered with a sincere poignancy, it is too little, too late.

Tim Shortall’s set may be authentic Edgware, but lest there be any doubt about this production’s bias, as the audience take their seats in the Menier an audio mise-en-scene plays clips of Gordon Brown’s and Barack Obama’s criticisms of Israel’s military.

Notwithstanding some outstanding work from the women, The Holy Rosenbergs does not stand up to the scrutiny of being revived and should have been allowed to rest in peace.

Runs until 2nd May

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

Marie & Rosetta - Revew

SohoPlace, London

*****

Written by George Brant

Directed by Monique Touko

Beverley Knight and Ntombizodwa Ndlovu

Journeying from Chichester and Kingston through 2025, Marie & Rosetta at last receives the West End opening it deserves. And like a smooth bourbon, this show has matured beautifully on the road, its double act of Beverley Knight and Ntombizodwa Ndlovu delivering one of the finest pieces of theatre to be found on a London stage.

Knight plays Sister Rosetta Tharpe, born in Arkansas in 1915 to cotton-picker parents, and who rose to become ‘The Godmother of Rock and Roll’. A gifted guitar player and even more blessed singer, Rosetta was to influence the greats including Chuck Berry, Jimi Hendrix and Elvis.

Ndlovu is Marie Knight, an equally gifted pianist singer with a heritage of a gospel, who for three years in the 1940s was to tour with Rosetta.

That’s the background - the genius of George Brant’s play is how the two women’s stories are woven into a narrative that speaks so much of the USA’s racial, social and musical history through the 20th century.

Born from the women’s success in the music industry, Brant sets out a narrative that reflects the pain they both endured. The damnable policies of segregation, the despicable behaviour of abusive partners together with brutal moments of domestic violence are all touched upon -  but it is the beauty of Brant’s imagined dialogues between the pair, so powerfully given life by the two performers, that makes for this evening of humbling and uplifting theatre. When Rosetta tells of having sung at church in the morning and The Cotton Club at night, a whole landscape is painted by Brant in those few words.

And then there’s the songs. Beverley Knight and Ntombizodwa Ndlovu are both blessed with magnificent vocal strengths, along with their impeccable acting skills. Fuse those talents with a bond that has been forged through this show’s evolutionary early months, and the result is a collection of songs that are delivered with such an intense authenticity, they transform the Soho Place into a gospel hall of love, passion and harmony.

Frequently sung a capella, the evening’s musical gems showcase a range of numbers from the period, all performed to perfection. Solos and duets pepper the evening, none more powerful than the two women singing Four or Five Times in exquisitely synchronised harmony and at a breathtaking tempo.

The chemistry that has evolved between Knight and Ndlovu is rare and precious. As the two women lift the roof off the Soho Place, they create an evening of unmissable theatre.

Runs until 11th April

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Broken Glass - Review

Young Vic, London

*

Written by Arthur Miller

Directed by Jordan Fein

Eli Gelb, Pearl Chanda and Alex Waldmann

Rarely is a production as muddled and disappointing as its underlying script as is to be found in Jordan Fein’s take on Arthur Miller’s Broken Glass.

Set in 1938 in New York's Brooklyn, Broken Glass is one of Miller's later plays. Through the dysfunctional marriage of Phillip and Sylvia Gellburg, the playwright seeks to explore his own interpretation of the American Jewish experience, set against a backdrop of the rise of antisemitism in Nazi Germany - the play’s title drawn from the infamous Kristallnacht, The Night of Broken Glass of November 1938 that saw German synagogues torched across the country. 

Miller explores a very tenuous connection that sees Sylvia lose the use of her legs, ostensibly as a reaction to the persecution of German Jewry. That Sylvia’s concern for events in Europe is dismissed by her isolationist husband and friends is plausible - but by rendering her immobile because of what the Nazis are doing, Miller, through such crass sensationalising, weakens his argument that seeks to explore her sense of ideological loneliness. Add in to the play's storyline the facts that: 1. the Gellburgs’ marriage has been devoid of physical intimacy for 20 years and; 2. Sylvia’s physician (Dr Harry Hyman played by Alex Waldmann) is a man whose sense of professional ethics has deserted him in his sexual desire for his patient, and it becomes clear that the whole (one-act)  evening really is a mess. Coming from a writer who’s demonstrably capable of literary genius, Broken Glass has to represent the nadir of Miller’s creative arc.

Fein has a lot to answer for too. A detail of his set, he has the Gellburgs' marital bed strewn with newspapers. If the newspapers had been facsimiles of 1930s newsprint that would have been fair enough. But with the subtlety of a brick however, Fein has selected real recent British publications, all with blazing headlines that have been chosen to demonise the right-wing of Britain's contemporary political spectrum, Fein clearly not realising that this country's current antisemitic hatred is largely being stirred up by the Islamist-sympathising Left. Fein's casting choices are equally mismanaged, Eli Gelb and Pearl Chanda as the Gellburg couple appearing far too young to have raised a 20 year-old.

Disappointing theatre.

Runs until 18th April

Photo credit: Tristram Kenton

While They Were Waiting - Review

Upstairs At The Gatehouse, London

****

Written by Garry Wilmot

Directed by Sydney Stevenson

Gary Wilmot

While They Were Waiting, Gary Wilmot’s debut play is a one-act two-hander that offers a delicious step back into Theatre of the Absurd in its analysis of the preciousness of time and the quirkiness of human nature.

Steve Furst is Mulberry who we find ringing the doorbell of an enigmatic door. When no-one answers he resigns himself to waiting on a nearby bench, shortly to be joined by Gary Wilmot’s Bix. What follows is 90 minutes of intriguing verbal sparring between this curious pair that offers up nods to Samuel Beckett’s Waiting For Godot and Tom Stoppard’s Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead in the two men’s contemplation of their situation. Mulberry is a man with a passion for waiting. As he explains - the pastime doesn’t require any specialist gear and one can do it anywhere.

At times the evening’s philosophy is deep – but Wilmot’s writing keeps the dialogue well peppered with puns, assonance and alliteration and sprinkled with gags that have been timed to perfection in their delivery. Recognised as a a master of comic timing and structure, Wilmot steps back from relentless humour in this piece to offer some poignant and insightful reflections on mortality and the human condition. As Bix, as he recites his Ode To A Friend, the evening ascends to a moment of truly moving reflection.

The two men are a beautifully matched double-act. The cantankerous pedantry of Furst’s lugubrious Mulberry being deftly complemented by Wilmot’s lighter and kindly tolerance. This is a play not just about waiting per se, it is a tightly directed comment on humanity and the tenderness of friendship.

As a debut piece, Wilmot’s writing is stunning. The play’s staging at Upstairs At The Gatehouse may well be charming in its intimacy but While They Were Waiting demands a wider audience.

Runs until 22nd March

Photo credit: Simon Jackson

Dracula - Review

NYT Workshop Theatre, London

****

Written by Tatty Hennessy after Bram Stoker

Directed by Atri Bannerjee

Bram Stoker’s Dracula really is immortal. For this gothic vampire, usually resident in the Carpathian Mountains of Transylvania, is currently to be found stalking the capital's streets in not one, but two staged productions. As Cynthia Erivo currently stars in a multi-million pound West End extravaganza, a short hop up the Holloway Road (where north London really is blood-red!) finds the National Youth Theatre’s REP Company having become literal stakeholders in a far more bonkers, low-tech and sanguinous interpretation of Dracula's gory tale, but which nonetheless turns out to be a show that proves lip-smackingly entertaining.

In a production that’s part funded by John Gore of the legendary Hammer Films company, Atri Bannerjee directs his young company with enthusiasm and energy, if not perhaps, finesse. Tatty Hennessy’s take on Stoker's story plays fast and loose with both time zones and settings, but throughout all the narrative's blood-soaked clutter, still offers a raft of emerging performers the chance to show off their skills.

The eponymous Count is notably absent from this production, however the cast is riddled with his victims. Louise Coggrave is Lorna, effectively the most prominent vampire in this show, and she’s fabulous. Returning from her own funeral to suck the blood from her sister Millie (don’t ask), played equally wonderfully by Maya Coates, as the plot becomes increasingly incredible, the acting just gets better and better.

Hennessy imbues her iteration of the classic with three Brides of Dracula. (Amy Young, Jo Bentley and Rachael Dowsett). These three characters are as madcap as they are sensuously stylish, and whilst an act one scene that sees them wringing out sponges that are literally drenched in stage blood, whilst the storyline may be indecipherable, the horrific visuals are magnificent. There’s always been a very thin line between humour and horror, and this production deliciously drains that rich flowing vein of humour.

Sasha Jagsi as Lucy, one of the shows more standout victims is another treat, while Rhia Burston as her best buddy Mina is charmingly convincing in a relatively blood-free role.

In a coup of theatrical casting, a youthful Christopher Lee (yes, that's his real name!) plays psychiatrist Jonathan, who also gets his hands dirty with lashings of stage blood as Jack David Collard puts in a fun turn as Arthur, who once held his affianced Lucy in the deepest adoration. Sumah Ebele offers an intriguing north American accent as she sinks her teeth into playing Professor Van Helsing, complete not just with crucifix and lashings of holy water, but a hacksaw too, ready to decapitate Dracula's infected followers. Luka Wellman's lunatic Renfield is a blast, as is Nicky Dune's Noah who struggles with the nuances of 21st century clubbing in the play's second half.

Much of the beauty of Stoker's Victorian original has been callously allowed to bleed out from Hennessy's version, however Alex Musgrave's stark lighting serves Naomi Dawson's simple staging very well, and all the while the stage blood spurts and gushes.

Dracula from the NYT is a fun and thrilling ride that's not for the squeamish.

Runs until 13th March