The Tell Tale Heart - Review

National Theatre, London


**


Written and directed by Anthony Neilson
Based on the short story by Edgar Allan Poe

Tamara Lawrance

Expectations are high for a festive ghost story from the National. With its world class resources, the theatre offers a wondrous potential to stage the most chilling of tales and when the source material is a famed Edgar Allan Poe short chiller, the anticipation is only heightened. But in Anthony Neilson’s The Tell Tale Heart transplant, Poe's gloriously gothic original is served up as a modern-day Christmas turkey.

There's attempted humour in the script, as horror can often sit alongside carefully crafted comedy. But Neilson’s three-hander fuses The Writer, The Landlady, and The Detective, (Tamara Lawrance, Imogen Doel and David Carlyle respectively) with dialogue that is crass, tacky and often puerile. Where monologues should be advancing the narrative, a glib joke about a girl being bullied by everyone around her because of her looks, is unforgivable. And in an unnecessary distraction the text plays fast and loose with sexualities too.

Good horror works well when the terror is subtle and the special effects are strong. While there are some scary touches of genius from designer Francis O’Connor, Nick Powell’s music doesn't quite hit the spot, and his sound design (where a strong bass heartbeat should be de rigueur) is woeful.

Perhaps the truly killer finish comes from the Writer’s final words: “the play is shite anyway”.

Runs until 8th January 2019

Reviewed by Eris

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

Penetrator - Review

The Hope Theatre, London

****

Written by Anthony Neilson

Directed by Phil Croft

With much in the way of 90’s revivals and a quantifiable number of in-yer-face productions hitting London’s theatre scene this year, the resurrection of Anthony Neilson's Penetrator at the Hope Theatre is nothing if not timely.

Phil Croft directs a sharply comical and ultimately scary production of this grotesque and brutally honest play. Max and Alan are unemployed twentysomething friends, home-alone, wasting away the hours watching porn and re-inventing, with ingenious wit, songs from their past to re-live the moment in which their lives had seemingly more purpose and direction. And then there’s Tadge, the other guy. A dark and intensely weird guy who brings with him a totally different atmosphere and shifts the dynamic of the play. 

Tom Manning’s Tadge captures an edge of psychosis and raw, unadulterated truth with a finesse that is genuinely frightening and ultimately very saddening to behold. Set up as an outsider from the outset. Alex Pardey’s characterisation of the slobbish, Max, is an uncomfortably familiar reflection of today’s middle class, sustained-by-parents graduate, possessed of a gift for comic timing as cutting and enjoyable as a young Ricky Gervais. There is a contrast with the sweet, house proud demeanour of Alan portrayed charmingly by Jolyon Price as a gentle, caring, embodiment of the innocence of the play, with his juvenile obsession for his teddy bears, which get repeatedly abused, much to his discomfort. Ironically, given how the play unfolds, Alan’s virtue along with that of the teddy bears, is one of the most successfully played motifs in this production. 

When Tadge arrives, having escaped a murky military past, at this harmless Hackney Hipster home, the tension is palpable. Each character’s past is carefully un-earthed to reveal hidden truths about their childhood friendships that none of the boys were expecting to face. This rejuvenated revival however littered with uneasy eruptions of laughter, nerf guns and childhood cartoon duvets, has a viciousness that evokes the feral nature of William Goldings’ Lord of the Flies. Racy and in-yer-face for sure, yet at the centre of this coming of age tragi-comic oddity beats a powerful dark heart.

Runs until 22nd August

Guest reviewer: Daphne Penn