Antony and Cleopatra - Review

National Theatre, London


****


Written by William Shakespeare
Directed by Simon Godwin

Sophie Okonedo and Ralph Fiennes

It’s all very well for director Simon Godwin to project his Antony and Cleopatra into the modern era but for one gaping hole in the logic. Whilst the costumes and the weaponry (Kalashnikovs, really?) may be 21st Century, neither the Italy nor the Egypt of today, save for their respective antiquities, resemble anything like their illustrious glories from millennia past. This play skips over the inconvenient modernities that Italy is broken and Egypt impoverished, but misquoting Mark Twain, why let the facts get in the way of a good story?

And truly, this is a ripping yarn. As “a pair so famous”, Ralph Fiennes and Sophie Okonedo are the titular magnificents. Perfectly cast, Fiennes the grizzled, patrician warrior Antony bears a love for Cleopatra that is almost tangible in its devotion. As much as Fiennes brings an impasssioned wisdom to his role, so too does Okonedo command the stage with a powerful petulance, their mutual, eternal devotion well elicited by Godwin.

There is fine supporting work too. Tim McMullan’s Enobarbus is a work of art in itself, his description of Cleopatra’s Royal Barge and of her beauty, delivered with a rarely encountered richness. In a neat gender-twist, Katy Stephens takes on Agrippa, creating a brief but plausible chemistry with Enobarbus as she outlines her plans for Antony’s wedding to Octavia, while in Cleopatra’s court, Gloria Obianyo is a touching Charmian.

The technical values of the production offer up our National Theatre at its very best. Michael Bruce’s music (delivered beautifully by the side-staged 5 piece band) draws from a variety of themes, with just a delicious hint of Ron Goodwin too during a military moment. 

Hildegard Bechtler’s set design proves to be a veritable chocolate box of surprises. Making fine use of the Olivier’s drum revolve (even if some of the below level scene-shifting could be quieter) Bechtler effortlessly shifts the action to and fro across the Mediterranean, even creating an ornate pond in Cleopatra’s palace. Elsewhere, in place of his originally scripted galley,  Pompey (Sargon Yelda) is given a submarine from which to command his fleet. And a nod to the heart-warmingly cute (and non-venomous) milk snake, called upon to double as an asp, which comes close to stealing the final scene!

At three and a half hours all in Antony and Cleopatra is a long haul, but with Fiennes and Okonedo making Shakespeare’s verse sing, there are moments here to be savoured.

Runs until 19th January 2019 in repertory

To be screened via NTLive on 6th December

Photo credit: Johan Persson

The Wild Party - Review

The Other Palace, London


****


Book, music and lyrics by Michael John LaChiusa
Book by George C. Wolfe
Directed and choreographed by Drew McOnie

Frances Ruffelle and John Owen-Jones

The arrival of Michael John LaChiusa's The Wild Party in London marks a number of premiere moments. It is: the first production of the show this side of the Atlantic; it is also the debut production staged in the newly re-branded The Other Palace (formerly known as the St James Theatre); and even more importantly the production marks choreographer Drew McOnie’s elevation to director, alongside his recognized craft of choreography. 

Drawn from Joseph Moncure March's 1928 poem of the same name the show is an unrelenting tale of bastardry in 1920s New York. Frances Ruffelle's Queenie and her husband Burrs are a pair of fading Vaudeville artistes. But Queenie loves to party, wildly and the musical evolves into a blurred flurry of decadent debauchery that is ultimately to end in rape and murder. The details of the plot are barely significant - think of The Great Gatsby without the glamour, or perhaps a glimpse into what Stephen King's Overlook Hotel may have been like in its once wonderful pomp.

John Owen-Jones is the terrifyingly brilliant Burrs - at times grotesquely sporting a clown's white slap and red lips. To Gavin Mallett's muted trumpet early on in the show his compelling voice and presence defines misogyny - his white-gloved jazz hands as capable of beating up a woman as whipping up an audience. Owen-Jones is never less than compelling, think Archie Rice with a hint of Amos Hart and you start to get close to his monstrous creation. (There's a doomed mania to the partnership of Owen-Jones and Ruffelle that makes one long for a one-day future pairing as Sweeney Todd and Mrs Lovett.)

It's hard to track the flow of guests - there are so many cameo turns, for the most part performed flawlessly, that the plot's details dissolve into a carefully choreographed cocktail of humanity. These are partying gadflies desperately clinging to a life of social semblance, yet all, for the most part, little more than vapid, vacuous vamps. And throughout there's a pulse of jealousy fuelled by Victoria Hamilton-Barritt's Kate and her insouciant lover Black played by Simon Thomas.

LaChiusa has structured his work so that all the ensemble get their moment(s) in the spotlight and to be fair, with only a couple of exceptions, they all give of their entirety to make this punishing show deliver its punch. Memorable amongst the cast are Genesis Lynea and Gloria Obianyo's androgynous twins, Tiffany Graves intriguing Madeleine, Steven Serlin's violated Goldberg and Dex Lee's serpentine Jackie.

As with any McOnie production, the movement comes first - and The Wild Party is a virtually constant flow of lithe fluidity as the cast writhe through their roles. Where perhaps the flaws in McOnie's directing skills peek through, is in the occasional moments where the acting sometimes fades away. Seasoned troupers like Owen-Jones and Ruffelle can act their hearts out blindfolded - but elsewhere McOnie needs to have taken some of the cast deeper into their roles.

Soutra Gilmour's set is a multi layered confection that's a treat to look at,  save for Richard Howell's lighting which a tad too often blinds the audience with its stadium-powered wash. Up above the stage, Theo Jamieson's eight piece band are nothing short of remarkable as they deliver LaChiusa's score, a composition as relentlessly brilliant as the narrative.

Whilst the music and movement are stunning, The Wild Party's not easy on both eyes and ears and is probably best enjoyed by genre aficionados. A couple of pre-show gins or juleps are recommended too.

Runs until 1st April

Photo credit: Scott Rylander

The Hired Man - Review

St James Theatre, London

****

Music and lyrics by Howard Goodall
Book by Melvyn Bragg
Directed by Nikolai Foster

Dominic Harrison and Amara Okereke

The programme notes for this production written by Howard Goodall himself, speak of the poignant significance of The Hired Man being staged in 2014, the centenary of the Great War. Goodall references the youthful age of the soldiers slaughtered in that infernal conflict, bringing a haunting resonance to bear upon this powerful interpretation of the show, produced by NYMT with a predominantly teenage cast.

The tale spans a thirty year stretch of English history, betwixt the 19th and 20th centuries and follows John Tallentire, the titular hired man and his journey through the economic evolution of his beloved Cumbrian fells. We see John shift from being a skilled ploughman, to an oppressed life below ground in a coal mine.  The demands of industry are replacing the more traditional rural lifestyles whilst against this backdrop, wife Emily falls into an adulterous affair with Jackson Pennington the dashing son of the local landowner and the First World War looms, ultimately to devastate the Tallentire family and the wider community.

Goodall and Bragg created an ingenious piece of theatre with The Hired Man. The first act is intimate, focussed upon John, his family and Emily’s extra-marital desires, before the second act widens the musical’s scope exponentially, addressing the march of industry, the rise of the trade union movement and the brutality of the War.

Under Nikolai Foster’s generally perceptive eye Dominic Harrison does well as John, carrying the burden of the narrative through his performance. It’s not easy for any teenage boy to play a cuckold, though Harrison rises to the challenge with a creditable performance as a good, if wronged man. Opposite him Amara Okereke, Maria in NYMT’s 2013 West Side Story is Emily, reprising her exquisite vocal work, combined with immaculate nuance, to create her complex character. A Yorkshire lass, Okereke’s natural northern brogue suits the play’s geography perfectly. The cast of thirty are at their best in Nick Winston’s splendidly choreographed numbers, none better than the multi-part harmonies that close each act, thrilling with the fusion of melody, lyrics and a stage full of young people in perfect synchronicity. 

An actor-muso production, many of the company are all the more remarkable for mastering their instrument on stage as well as acting. Joe Eaton-Kent’s exquisite work on violin/viola more than matches his work as Jackson Pennington, whilst amongst the (many) unsung gems of this cast Gloria Obianyo’s guitar playing adds a folksy contemporary touch to the sound not commonly heard. The credit for this innovative musical impact with musical director Sarah Travis. Re-arranging numbers to accommodate the actor-muso transition it turns out that much like adding mineral water to a fine scotch malt, so has Travis taken Goodall’s score and opened it up, releasing hitherto hidden yet beautiful complexities. These revelations are particularly highlighted in act one’s Fill It To The Top and in the second half’s haunting post-war elegy, Day Follows Day. 

Farewell Song, sung by the entire company immediately before the young men leave to  face the terrors of France, remains one of the most moving songs in the musical theatre canon, its words depicting  the anguish of such painful partings. As Goodall’s exquisite key changes pluck at our heart strings, if ever a song were to merit inclusion in November’s annual Festival of Remembrance it is this one.

Ben Cracknell’s stark lighting work cleverly depicts the shifts in the story’s time and location, whilst Matthew Wright’s flag-stoned stage perfectly anchors the show’s era. Notably absent from the production team is a hair and make-up professional. This is an unfortunate omission as the show’s final scenes, of Emily and John in more senior years, demand a more visible change in appearances to mark the passing of time and would have assisted the young actors in portraying their parents’ generation more convincingly.

But bravo to NYMT and the inspirational vision of producer Jeremy Walker. Yet again, in an incredibly short space of time and coached by some of the industry’s finest creatives, talented young amateurs have gone on to realise theatrical excellence on a commercial stage.