Punch - Review

 Apollo Theatre, London

****

Written by James Graham

Directed by Adam Penford

David Shields

First seen at the Nottingham Playhouse last year and followed by a brief run at the Young Vic, Punch arrives in the West End, examining the story of Jacob Dunne, a man who was to kill James Hodgkinson with one punch in an assault that had no murderous intent. Subsequently convicted and jailed for manslaughter, Jacob was to go on and forge a remarkably compassionate connection with James’s parents Joan and David through the little-used channel of restorative justice. James Graham has taken this real-life episode of some of the highest manifestations of the human condition and woven it into a punchy 2 1/2 hour narrative.

The play’s original cast have been maintained in a superb display of ensemble acting. Leading the show is David Shields as Jacob, onstage almost throughout the play and delivering a towering performance of Jacob’s journey. The five other members of the company assume multiple roles throughout, with standout work coming from Julie Hesmondhalgh and Tony Hirst as Joan and David. Hesmondhalgh in particular offering a masterclass in the controlled rage of grief.

The evening however is an occasion of two halves, with act one a relentlessly staccato burst of expositional scenes describing Jacob, Joan and David’s lives in the build-up to the punch and in the aftermath of the fatal blow. It is not until after the interval that the writing starts to soar in his portrayal of the dynamic between Jacob and Joan & David. In the penultimate scenes the detailed dramatic tension between the three is sensational.

Anna Fleischle's stark brutalist set is immaculately lit by Robbie Butler, contributing to a production of immensely moving theatre.

Runs until 29th November

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

Boys from the Blackstuff - Review

National Theatre, London

*

Written by Alan Bleasdale

Play written by James Graham

Directed by Kate Wasserberg

Barry Sloane

Recent weeks have seen the stage translations of two television classics from the late 20th century open in London. John Cleese’s adaptation of Fawlty Towers has been a delight - taking his claustrophobic Torquay hotel and literally transporting its set, characters and storylines across both miles and decades to create theatrical magic. James Graham’s attempt at transitioning Alan Bleasdale’s bleakly brilliant Boys from the Blackstuff however marks a departure from Graham’s typically trademark genius and proves a depressing disappointment.

In the 1980’s Bleasdale’s six teleplays, each exquisitely photographed and acted around Liverpool, spoke with wit, tenderness and tragedy as they told of the challenges faced by the city in those times. The desperation and desolation of a group of men who’d previously earned their living laying tarmac (the titular blackstuff) won the nation’s hearts. Back in the day when there were only (just) four UK TV channels, Boys from the Blackstuff, with the late Bernard Hill’s remarkable interpretation of the defiantly damaged Yosser Hughes made for sensational viewing.

Indeed, the 1980s were fertile years in which the performing arts captured Liverpool’s pain with Willy Russell’s musical Blood Brothers emerging to be a timeless gem, still packing out theatres to this day. With hindsight, James Graham should have left the era well alone. Bleasdale’s original, skilfully directed by Philip Saville, took an hour-long episode to graphically flesh out each of the series’ characters. Today’s iteration sees Graham snatch vignettes from each of those original storylines and attempt to mould them into a two-hour blob of drama. The result is shallow, crass and un-engaging, with the tragic pathos of Bleasdale’s original, sacrificed on an altar of pseudo-relevant scenery, projections and a distracting (and on this press-night, technically disastrous) soundscape. 

The play has moments of a fine portrayal of human suffering from Barry Sloane’s Yosser, but otherwise - and this is a disgrace for a show that stems from such an outstanding pedigree - the evening is a bore.

Music from the 1980s is piped into the auditorium before and after the show. The Special’s Ghost Town, playing before curtain-up, could have been foretelling the post-interval gaps that were to emerge in the audience. And indeed when the somewhat depleted throng did return to their seats after half-time, it was Paul Weller coming through the Olivier’s sound system with The Jam’s song That’s Entertainment. If only.

Runs at the National Theatre until 8th June

Then at the Garrick Theatre from 13th June - 3rd August

Photo credit: Andrew AB Photography

Dear England - Review

Prince Edward Theatre, London

****

Written by James Graham

Directed by Rupert Goold

The cast of Dear England

When the National Theatre staged James Graham’s Dear England in the Olivier earlier this year, it appeared to herald a flood of stage plays about the beautiful game. Had the drama on the pitch become fair game for the dramatist’s pen? Not exactly. In fact the wealth of dramas at the Edinburgh Fringe and beyond seemed to document the seismic shift in how soccer is managed, supported and perceived in this country. The seeds of this change are explored in Graham’s play, which observes the first years of Gareth Southgate’s tenure as England manager, which following universal critical acclaim now transfers to the Prince Edward in the West End.

Perennial nice-guy, Southgate is given the impossible role of manager following a shake-up at executive level. He is haunted and constantly reminded of his penalty failure at the Euros quarter final in 1996 but accepts the role on the condition that some changes are brought in with the training. Southgate has realised that despite excellent talented players through the decades, England had yet triumph on the world stage since 1966. In searching for a different approach, he enlists Dr Pippa Grange (Dervla Kirwan taking over from Gina McKee in this transfer), a successful psychotherapist who endeavours to help the young team face up to their fears and feelings. Most people are sceptical at this point, but gradually Grange breaks through and nurtures trust and comradeship within the team. What is more important is that England becomes more and more successful, albeit without actually winning a match. But Southgate is playing the long game. Before England can win, they need to learn how to lose.

Graham's drama, while ostensibly about football, is in fact a state-of-the-nation play. Its backdrop shows a country struggling with its identity, suffering governmental chaos and desperately in need of unification. Woven through with comic moments and the high drama on the pitch, there are episodes of soul-searching poignancy, as the young players address their fears and learn to bond.  At the centre of all this is Southgate, played by a revelatory Joseph Fiennes, whose post-Covid open letter to the nation - Dear England - called upon the supporters to remember that the players are fans too, and that there is no place for racism when we are all aiming for the same result.

Directed by Rupert Goold, Dear England takes on an epic status. Es Devlin's clever set design, dominated by a giant illuminated stadium halo, is a rhapsody of digital projection and old-school scenery shifting. It's the first time in recent memory that the Prince Edward has played host to a straight play, but Goold's production has all the drama, choreography and spectacle of major musical - just no songs - save for snatches of Bittersweet Symphony, Vindaloo and Sweet Caroline.

Movement directors Ellen Kane and Hannes Langolf add to the drama by creating gripping physical scenes that represent everything from training to penalty shoot-outs with a remarkably limber cast playing the team. Part of the joy in this production is watching the characters unfold, whether it's Darragh Hand as Marcus Rashford, embracing this opportunity to give something back to the community or Will Close as an adorably hesitant Harry Kane, gradually learning to accept his role as team captain. There's excellent support too from Paul Thornley as coach Mike Webster, who primarily stands against Southgate's 'touchy-feely' approach but reluctantly warms to the burgeoning team spirit it engenders.

Dear England is a sharply designed, feel-good production that captures the spirit of reform that Southgate has initiated. There's no doubt it will likely attract - and rightly so - a whole new audience to the West End. As such, this might be one of the most important London transfers since Declan Rice moved from West Ham to Arsenal.

Reviewed by Paul Vale

Booking until 13th January 2024

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

Dear England - Review

Olivier Theatre, London

****

Written by James Graham

Directed by Rupert Goold

Joseph Fiennes

In 1981 Bill Shankly the legendary manager of Liverpool football club famously said:  “Some people think football is a matter of life and death. I don’t like that attitude. I can assure them it is much more serious than that.”

Bear that quote in mind when seeing James Graham's new play Dear England which is based around England manager Gareth Southgate and takes its title from the letter that Southgate, the manager of the England football team, addressed to the country in 2021 on the eve of that year’s European Championship Finals. In the same tournament some 25 years previously, Southgate had (in)famously missed his kick in the penalty shootout against Germany. But when country called in 2016 he returned to the national team as manager, coaching his players to greater achievement than previous international squads had accomplished in decades.

Graham’s ability to spot the dramatic potential of this nation’s highs and lows is unsurpassed, and this play, with his commentary on England and its relationship with the beautiful game, makes for an evening of mostly sparkling, funny and well observed entertainment. 

Joseph Fiennes steps up to the spot as Southgate, visually capturing the essence of the man. Vocally however, he never quite nails his character’s Crawley twang and early in the first act (for this is a play with two halves) he sounds a little too much like Michael Crawford’s comic creation Frank Spencer. Fiennes is however compelling as we see him batting his post-1996 inner demons and channelling that energy into motivating his young players.

There are some outstanding supporting performances on offer. For a show that sports a cast list packed with recognisable characters, Gunnar Cauthery’s take on BBC pundit Gary Lineker hits the back of the net. Likewise Will Close scores an absolute blinder with his awkward and gangly England captain, Harry Kane. We laugh at the brilliance of Close’s work, his performance capturing Kane’s apparent inarticulacy as a man to whom words do not come easy and whose gift lies in his ability to kick a ball. It is a mildly shaming moment for the audience when later on in the second half Kane reveals that he is aware that people laugh at how he speaks. On moments such as these is great drama constructed, where not only the great and the good are lampooned, but also those who have paid to buy a ticket to the theatre are themselves the subject of its wrath. 

Yet again, Es Devlin stuns a National audience with her visionary stage design. Devlin’s inspired use of concentric revolves, rotating  underneath Ash J Woodward’s projections that themselves  range from  displaying the world’s stadia to penalty shootout scores has to be seen to be believed. In a production of such world class stagecraft however, some of the wigs and hair coverings are frankly appalling. With the level of creative talent available to the National, some of the wig work (those of Sven-Göran Eriksson and Gianni Infantino in particular) is disgraceful.

Graham’s writing ranges from profoundly perceptive to occasional bursts of politics that belie a shallow bias. His dialogue lauds the players’ taking of the knee in the 2022 Qatar World Cup, but is silent on the slavery and hundreds of worker deaths that went into the construction of that tournament’s venues, a myopia that detracts from the play’s otherwise overarching brilliance.

Always with an eye to what will make a fine theatrical event, Graham has chosen an impressive backdrop of football anthems as his soundtrack. Listen out for The Verve, Fat Les and even Neil Diamond and dream of Dear England, The Musical.

No doubt producers and writers are already hard at work, transforming Dear England for its inevitable transition to the screen and when that happens, with a few edits here and there, it will make a great movie. Until then, catch it if you can at the National.

Football as a matter of life and death? It is much more serious than that.

Runs until 11th August

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

Privacy

Donmar Warehouse, London

****

Written by James Gray

Directed by Josie Rourke

Joshua McGuire

The mise en scene to Privacy is a backdrop that slowly fills with fingerprints as more and more audience members connect to the show’s WiFi. The message is clear. We are all leaving digital fingerprints and James Graham’s play seeks to consider how this geometrically expanding volume of recorded data is used and abused. When George Orwell wrote 1984, shortly after World War 2, the society he envisioned was an horrifically portentous nation, in which all information (and even thoughts) was accessible to a totalitarian state. Orwell’s opus was a magnificent work of literary art. But where Orwell composed fiction, Graham’s work is largely based on fact.

Privacy is an exciting play. A pre-show animation, in the style of an airliner’s safety briefing, asks the audience to break with convention and keep their (silenced) smartphones switched on and connected to the theatre’s network. There is a neat joke that asks children to connect their own phones first before helping a struggling adult get theirs on the network.  The play that follows is a presentation of the author’s research into how information is obtained about us and how that information is (ab)/used by the state and exploited by commerce. Graham has been thorough and a large part of the play is taken up with verbatim reproductions of interview text. The play is fascinating and chilling and his combination of excellent acting with revelatory facts about the data that one’s iPhone is continually recording, makes for occasionally electrifying drama. But whilst the verbatim genre may be new to theatre, its style has been around for a long time on TV and there are moments when Privacy seems little more than a live-action episode of Panorama. A slick projection screen enhances the action and graphically indicates how with the UK sitting at a critical junction of most of the world’s fibre-optic data networks, as one character suggests, the UK’s security services are “basically Sky+ing the internet”, a phrase that is mind-boggling in its simplicity.

Factually the play is terrific and it is only when Graham augments his research with creative writing, that the chinks appear. A police shooting of suspected terrorists is given a kitsch Romeo and Juliet parallel that is almost insulting in its naiveté, whilst the plays denouement lacks credibility. Graham also muddles his arguments. Michelle Terry’s perfectly nuanced take on an (anonymised) 16 year-old speaking of the online bullying stemming from the ask.fm social networking site that has led to numerous teenage suicides, was poignant and painful and touched the audience with its implicit tragedy. In shifting his focus towards the Snowden leak of state secrets however, Graham’s points become blurred. Snowden’s actions are not in question, but whether he was a champion of freedom, or alternatively a traitor, is very much a matter of personal and political opinion and Graham’s prose seems too heavily weighted towards defending the actions of The Guardian newspaper in releasing the Snowden files.

The cast of six are all outstanding, seamlessly interweaving between characters (only Joshua McGuire who plays The Writer is granted one role throughout the play) with Gunnar Cauthery’s take on William Hague and Jonathan Coy’s Paddy Ashdown being particularly fine caricatures.

Josie Rourke directs with pace though at times the second half flags. Whilst there may well be more heat than light to Graham’s analysis and at nearly three hours it’s a long haul, for the most part it proves to be entertaining theatre. Innovative and challenging, Graham does not provide many answers in his work, but he will shock you into realising just how many digital fingerprints we are all leaving, everywhere.

Runs to 31st May 2014