Titanic

Southwark Playhouse, London

****

Music and lyrics by Maury Yeston

Book by Peter Stone

Directed by Thom Southerland

Philip Rham

Earlier this year, the Southwark Playhouse slipped its moorings at London Bridge and headed south to Elephant and Castle. Now, in her first London production of 2013, Danielle Tarento cracks a bottle of champagne across the theatre’s bows with her production of Maury Yeston’s Tony winning show Titanic taking up an August residency at the venue.

This producer's form remains impeccable. Selecting trusted talent Thom Southerland to envision the work and with Cressida Carre’s choreography, David Woodhead’s inspired design all railings, upper decks and rope and the lighting wizardry of Howard Hudson, the essence of The White Star Line’s doomed flagship is beautifully evoked.

Yeston premiered his work on Broadway in 1997, just a few months before James Cameron’s movie was to ensure that the whole world knew what happened on that fateful night in April 1912. Whilst Yeston's show opened before the movie, watching his musical in 2013 we find that it teaches us nothing new. We already know that many of the ship's officers were noble, that the owner was ruthless, that some men were heroic and that passengers in 3rd class and steerage were treated appallingly. Yeston's melodies (mostly unfortunately forgettable) don't age well and not for the first time his lyrics are found to be lacking in substance. An epic story demands a deep and epic treatment. Yeston's analysis runs aground in very shallow waters.

So hurrah for Tarento and her team. Philip Rham quite literally is Captain Smith. His bearded poise and weary acceptance of Ismay, the owner’s, persistent demands for reckless speed through a treacherous ice field, is worth the price of admission alone. Rham’s patrician Captain exemplifies both the steel and responsibility of his command yet also the elegant and dignified courtesy of the time. Simon Green’s despicable Ismay is another fine performance, even if he has been written as little more than a pantomime villain. Where Smith is a finely fleshed out man of handsome character, Green's Ismay can at times be imagined stroking an evil moustache as his lust for speed and profit over safety condemns the journey, such is the cliche of his character. Greg Castoglioni is Andrews the ships architect, one of several portentous players who caution Smith against reckless speed. His is a measured portrayal of a man placed in desperate circumstances.

The passenger list has some first class gems. Celia Graham maintains her reputation for excellence as Alice Beane a desperate social climber, whilst below decks Victoria Serra as a shamed pregnant Irish lass off to make a new life in the New World puts in a stylish turn along with Shane McDaid as the charming young lad who falls for her. Veterans Judith Street and Dudley Rogers provide a rare moment of authentic poignancy as elderly millionaires who reject the lifeboats, electing for an icy death in each others arms and James Hume as their champagne pouring steward also puts in a convincing and subtly understated performance of profound tragedy.

The design is brilliant in its suggestion of the ship's famous lines. Tarento avoids expensive gimmickry, relying instead on a pure simplicity of image and the audience's fertile imagination, pre-fuelled thanks to our familiarity with the Cameron oscar-winner. When her Titantic finally and famously rears up, with horizontal decking horrifically becoming the sheerest of deathly cliff faces, the effect is a perfect combination of desperately beautiful stagecraft and Southerland's classy direction.

Like a classic albeit tragically true fairy tale, we know Titanic's story before we take our seats. Tarento's take on history is nothing less than respectful and humbling and she tells it with production values that continue to re-define excellence in London's off-West End.


Runs until 31 August 2013

Sweet Smell of Success - Review

***

Music by Marvin Hamlisch

Lyrics by Craig Carnelia

Book by John Guare

Directed by Mehmet Ergen



Stuart Matthew Price



If the aromas of this country’s recent nasty episodes of cheque-book phone-tapping journalism could be distilled they might be ironically labelled the Sweet Smell of Success. This show from Marvin Hamlisch, he of blessed memory, is a thoroughly unpleasant tale of a morally bankrupt press, with a plot that includes almost flippant nods to McCarthyism, suggested incestuous motives, suicide and murder. There is a love interest , but it merely serves as second fiddle to the devious malfeasance that drives this work.

David Bamber is JJ Hunsecker, an influential New York columnist, with an unhealthily protective attitude towards his much younger sister Susan, played by Caroline Keiff. Whilst the immorality of the press has long been a rich seam for writers, Bamber’s character however loathsome is not a patch on the grotesque media baron that was Lambert Le Roux in David Hare's Pravda. Bamber’s acting is impressive but his singing disappoints and a second act vaudeville number, whose sole purpose seems to be that of providing Hunsecker with a big song and  dance routine, is an opportunity squandered. As Sidney Falcone, a protege of manipulative journalism whose character is ruthlessly manipulated by Hunsecker,  Adrian der Gregorian is frequently reduced to acting by simply shoulder shrugging.

To the show's credit, other performances shine. Stuart Matthew Price is masterful as Dallas, the young pianist in love with Susan. It is a delight to see this actor in a large “almost lead” role that for once offers his character numerous opportunities to sing solo, as his voice is simply divine. Similarly excellent is Celia Graham in the far too minor role of cigarette girl Rita. A highlight of the evening is the belting of her character’s one and solo number, Rita’s Tune. Wonderfully mopping up a handful of the minor scene-setting roles is Russell Morton, a young man of striking presence and potential. Hamlisch’s melodies are bold and jazzy and Bob Broad’s direction of his pitch perfect 7-piece band is a beautiful evocation of time and place.

Nathan M Wright’s choreography of the ensemble numbers lacked polish on press night. It was sometimes clumsy, and whilst expensive sets may not be expected in this fine off-West End establishment, foot-perfect dance routines are and Wright should urgently drill his cast further. Mehmet Ergen’s direction also denies his actors their full potential. The show’s staging is at times poorly thought out: a crucial beating takes place on a badly lit gantry, not easily visible to a proportion of the audience and a repeated gag of the chorus appearing from an upstage pit, wears thin with repetition.

In Jason Robert Brown’s Parade one song from a journalist, Real Big News, says more about a corrupt press than this show manages in two acts. If the cast and creative team can refine its weaker points, then this production stands a chance of generating a modest whiff of success.

Runs to December 22