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