Trainspotting The Musical - Review

Theatre Royal Haymarket, London

****

Music & lyrics by Stephen McGuiness & Irvine Welsh

Directed and developed by Caroline Jay Ranger

The cast of Trainspotting The Musical

Mainlining straight back to the 90s, Trainspotting The Musical achieves that elusive high of transforming abject human misery into an evening of sharply crafted entertainment. Irvine Welsh whose 1993 book inspired the story’s iconic film, has penned the show and together with Stephen McGuinness has written a dozen or so new songs that fabulously fit this modern fable.

Focussing on the lives of five young men from Edinburgh, Welsh’s tale, much of it drawn from and inspired by his own experiences of 18 months as a heroin addict, delivers an evening of devastation as we witness the drug ripping through their lives.

Lewis Kidd plays the focal, narrative, Renton who tells of his world, his family and his friends. Onstage for almost the entire show, Kidd’s Renton breaks our hearts as he navigates the depths of his addiction. 

Alongside Kidd, Sheridan Townsley is the damaged Sick Boy and Kieran Andrew is Spud. Finlay Paul plays Tommy whose own decline leads to perhaps the show’s most harrowing moments. Completing this leading quintet is the brilliant Frankie O’Connor as the psychopathically menacing Begbie, vividly vicious yet also capable of moments of surprising compassion.

In support, Rebecca McKinnis and Gordon Cooper as Renton’s parents Cathy and Davie make fine work of their modest roles, their anguished pain witnessing their son slide into the opioid’s grip proving almost unbearable to watch.

Rosie Dignan’s Alison together with Ashley J. Russell’s Colleen deliver equally strong grief and anxiety-fuelled performances. 

Death’s tentacles sprawl through the evening and it is a remarkable credit to both the cast and the creatives that a story of such physical and emotional horror can at times prove to be as witty as it is tragic.

The music lifts the show - the classic songs from the movie’s soundtrack are retained with Lou Reed’s Perfect Day closing both halves. As the first act finishes on a moment of unbearable pain, the irony of the full company powerfully delivering Reed's classic makes for a bittersweet symphony of feelings.

The show’s original compositions are as brilliantly written as Welsh's original novel, highlights including the sardonically Country-themed The Eckies And The Brown and One Skin Too Few, both of which are deservedly reprised.

Caroline Jay Ranger has directed and developed the show, helming a production that is as much a poignant social commentary, as it is a historical take on how grim life can be for those who are either denied opportunity or who lack the ability and vision to strive for it. Ranger’s work is neatly  nuanced, complemented by Colin Richmond’s simply effective sets and Douglas O’Connell’s video projections, transforming the visuals from a row of impoverished city tenements through to the sensations of heroin coursing through Renton’s veins – with some impressive underwater photography that cleverly suggests the character’s escape into the Siren-like embrace of the narcotics. Stuart Morley's band are a blast throughout.

The staging is authentically Scots, with dialects to match and for all that the Scottish brogue is convincingly delivered, there will be moments for many unsophisticated southern ears that may prove unintelligible.

Make no mistake, this is brave and bold new writing. Brilliantly bleak.

Runs until 5th September, then on tour

Photo credit: Matt Crockett

Till The Stars Come Down - Review

 Theatre Royal Haymarket, London

*****

Written by Beth Steel

Directed by Bijan Sheibani

Dorothy Atkinson

The West End transfer of the National Theatre's Till The Stars Come Down sees this stunning new play evolve into a production that is as stellar as its title.

Powerfully perceptive and set in a northern mining village where the pit has long since closed, Beth Steel’s writing focuses on three sisters on the day of the youngest sibling’s wedding. Rarely does a narrative soar from brilliantly observed (and perfectly timed) hilarity one minute, to harrowing family despair the next as passions, secrets and lies merge to fuel a narrative that culminates in perhaps the most exquisitely performed heartbreak to be found in London today.

This is a story about love, desire, resentment, ageing, grief and bigotry with Bijan Sheibani’s company of 10 all delivering faultless expertise in their acting. The sororal trio comprises Sinead Matthews (as Sylvia, the bride) and Lucy Black (as Hazel) returning to the production from the National, with Aisling Loftus (Maggie) a newcomer to the transfer. All three are powerhouse performers. Also returning are Philip Whitchurch as the bride’s Uncle Pete and Alan Williams as Tony, the sisters’ widowered father. Williams in particular delivers a turn that is a masterclass in understated excellence.

The evening’s comedy moments are driven by Dorothy Atkinson’s Aunty Carol, a woman who is as monstrous as she is relatable and recognisable. Gifted most of the evening’s snappy one-liners, Atkinson is the definition of tragi-comical brilliance.

The show is a technical treat with Samal Blak’s ingenious revolve being perfectly lit as ever by Paule Constable.

Beth Steel’s writing was good last year on the South Bank. Performed by this company at the Theatre Royal Haymarket, it’s bloody brilliant and the capital's drama highlight of the summer!

Runs until 27th September

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

The Deep Blue Sea - Review

Theatre Royal, Haymarket

*****

Written by Terence Rattigan

Directed by Lindsay Posner

Tamsin Greig

Terence Rattigan’s The Deep Blue Sea is a minutely observed take on one day in the life of Hester Collyer. Middle aged and having suffered a failed marriage and a failing affair, we encounter Hester, prone on the floor of her tawdry Ladbroke Grove flat following yet another failure, this time in her attempt to kill herself. Lindsay Posner’s take on 1950s England delivers a sepia-tinged snapshot of social mores that have long since been discarded. But while life’s customs may have evolved and changed, the play’s underlying themes of passion and despair are timeless.

As the day unfolds we meet Hester’s landlady, neighbours, her husband and her lover, as the jigsaw pieces of her life are slowly revealed. Rattigan has a powerful and perceptive understanding of the human condition, with each of his characters carefully crafted as they impact onto the fraught and fragile Hester.

But more than just the sublime writing, the acting at the Theatre Royal Haymarket defines this production (a transfer in from the Theatre Royal Bath) as one of the finest dramas currently to be found on a London stage. Tamsin Greig is Hester, on stage throughout, in a performance that captures the complexities of her depression, self-loathing and desperate desire in the finest of detail. Never melodramatic, Greig delivers a masterclass in perfectly nuanced acting.

As her High Court judge husband Sir William and some years her senior, Nicholas Farrell turns in an equally assured performance of a complex love that still burns for his estranged wife, while Hadley Fraser’s Freddie, Hester’s younger lover, offers up a snapshot of a man battling his own demons.

The key supporting roles of Miller, a lapsed German doctor and Mrs Elton, the landlady of the house are perfectly and sensitively fleshed out by Finbar Lynch and Selina Cadell respectively, each contributing valuable colour to Rattigan’s harrowing palette. Peter McKintosh’s set is an understated masterpiece of 50’s austerity, perfectly lit by Paul Pyant.

Rattigan’s eye for English misery is unmatched, and under Posner’s direction and with Greig’s breathtaking performance, The Deep Blue Sea is unmissable theatre.

Runs until 21 June

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

Waiting For Godot - Review

Theatre Royal Haymarket, London

****

Written by Samuel Beckett

Directed by James Macdonald

Ben Whishaw, Lucian Msamati, Tom Edden, Jonathan Slinger

With a luxurious cast, Samuel Beckett’s opus drama returns to London’s West End.

Lucian Msamati and Ben Whishaw are Estragon and Vladimir, the hapless duo prescribed to await Godot’s arrival on Rae Smith’s set that is as bleak as the narrative. A barren setting, save for a tree, captures the pair’s desolation in a story that is hard to define. 

Beckett’s tragicomedy plays with aspects of loneliness, co-dependency, base humanity, cruelty and abuse - there is also a theme of faith and divinity that underpins the whole piece. Premiering some 71 years ago, in Vladimir and Estragon we can see some of the comedic duos that were to follow in the 1960s and 70s. Think of Albert and Harold Steptoe, Rigsby and his tenants in Rising Damp, Basil and Sybil Fawlty to name but three examples - all relationships doomed to an eternity of complex mediocrity from which no protagonist can ever escape. But unlike a 30minute sitcom episode, Waiting  For Godot is a challenging 2 1/2 hours (including interval) that at times makes huge demands on its audience to keep up with its dry genius.

Msamati and Whishaw are superb in their interpretations. They are brilliantly assisted by Jonathan Slinger as the cruel yet ultimately vulnerable Pozzo and Tom Edden as his unfortunately named slave, Lucky. Edden’s first-act monologue is a masterclass in spoken and physical drama. On the evening of this review Luca Fone played the (Christ-like?) boy, perpetually sent to herald the next-day’s arrival of Godot.

A rare treat to find this work on a major London stage and for those with an appetite for Absurdist Theatre, the show is unmissable.

Runs until 14th December

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

McQueen - Review

Haymarket Theatre, London


****

Written by James Phillips
Directed by John Caird

Carly Bawden

Making its West End transfer from the St James Theatre, James Phillips’ McQueen, a semi-biopic exploration into the psyche of fashion icon Alexander McQueen, hangs in composite parts. Just like the brown paper sizing charts we see when McQueen brings the waifish and mysterious Dahlia to his old tailors on Saville Row, Phillips has constructed a series slightly uneven vignettes, and strung them up together without stitching them into a cohesive whole. It makes for an undulating evening, that at some points is fascinating, and at others is achingly slow. However, even if seen only in glimpses, the window into McQueen's tortured mind is worth every peep.

The play is a journey, taking us through the crushing spectre of depression, right through to the euphoric discovery of inspiration. The stage is often constructed as a dream scape, with lucid video designs  by Timothy Bird latching on to the melting fragmentations of McQueen's mind, demonstrating how his fragile thoughts project not only those around him, but the very walls of his surroundings. Stephen Wight's Lee McQueen starts the show before the audience have even taken their seats, pacing relentlessly, muttering and clutching a belt with foreboding animosity. There is an edgy restlessness to the proceedings before the lights even go down, and it creates a sense of dramatic anticipation that unfortunately is never again matched during the night. Scenes leap through unspecified gaps in time, and the dreamy hallucinogenic atmosphere undercuts any kind of narrative tension as the stakes drop from beneath the characters feet. John Caird's direction shows a keen eye for the visual, and has a forceful specificity, but lacks nuance in the pacing. Some scenes linger far beyond their welcome, whilst other sections come to a dissatisfying halt just as they were building some intrigue. The humour of the opening exchanges between McQueen and his unexpected intruder, Dahlia (Carly Bawden), is a delight, but is never again revisited. There is a light tone to their banter, a dance of verbal one one-upmanship, intrigue laced with fear, fascination mixed with trepidation. It's an enticing tone to begin the show, but it falls by the wayside as the play progresses and becomes bogged down with the darker harbinger of suicide.

Wight is tasked with the exploration of these macabre themes and does fantastic work. His is a central performance of tremendous skill, investing Lee McQueen with the right amount of sensitivity, whilst also hinting at an untapped well of visceral anger towards a world that will always expect more. There's a real empathetic power to his speeches on the constant pressure to deliver  whatever is 'next', as Wight constructs an unflinchingly relatable portrait of a man waving to the expectant crowd with a fake smile and a shaking hand. Bawden also shows some impressive chops with her take on the murky girl from the tree. There is a spirited intensity and confidence to her scenes, but she also shows a knowing physicality that belies inescapable vulnerability.

What elevates the piece though, is the stunning choreography by Christopher Marney, expertly conducted by an ensemble of ghoulishly beautiful dancers. These balletic interludes both transition and invade scenes and are breathtaking whenever they feature. Dressed both as mannequins and runway models, the dancers are both nightmarish in their grotesque inhumanity and angelic in their perfection. Their movements can be stilted at one moment, and lyrical in the next, effectively echoing both the frustration and beauty of human thought and inspiration.

The meandering pace and lack of narrative focus threaten to undo McQueen at certain points, however, it succeeds with excellent performances and a sumptuous design in keeping with the artistic genius at its centre. When Caird is freed from the lightweight plot and able to examine visually the psychosis of creativity, and the abject terror of failure; the piece soars on great golden wings.

Runs until 7th November
Guest reviewer: Will Clarkson