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

Fawlty Towers - The Play - Review

Apollo Theatre, London

*****

Written by John Cleese

Based on the TV series Fawlty Towers written by John Cleese & Connie Booth

Directed by Caroline Jay Ranger

The cast of Fawlty Towers - The Play

Written for television some 50 years ago and almost immediately entering the pantheon of comedy, Fawlty Towers was a work of scriptwriting genius by John Cleese and his (then) wife Connie Booth. 

Cleese himself has now adapted three of the (only 12) original TV episodes into a tightly paced show that runs for two hours including interval. The adaptation itself is a work of art, Cleese fusing those famous plotlines and gags into an ingenious confection designed to appeal to both fans and newcomers alike.

Of course the writing credentials of Fawlty Towers The Play were never in doubt. The challenge was always going to lie in the effectiveness of the on-stage resurrections of the beleaguered hotel’s iconically comic characters.

Anna-Jane Casey and Adam Jackson-Smith

Simply put, director Caroline Jay Ranger’s cast are sensational. Adam Jackson-Smith is the lugubrious hotelier Basil Fawlty, a role that many may have considered unplayable. In an immaculate combination of voice, nuance and sublime physical comedy, Jackson-Smith nails the performance with far greater skill than he manages to fix a moose’s head to a hotel wall. 

Alongside him, Anna-Jane Casey takes on the mantle of Sybil Fawlty, the other half of one of comedy’s most celebrated loveless marriages. Casey’s tone is magnificent and as the evening plays out, her portrayal of a woman who is as equally monstrous as her husband, only becomes more acid. Hemi Yeroham takes up the role of the much put-upon Manuel, the hotel’s Spanish waiter with Victoria Fox playing the maid Polly. Both recreate their characters to a tee.

But aside from those big four rocks of the Fawlty Towers series, what pushes this stage show into the stratosphere of excellence is the inspired casting of the supporting roles. It’s a breath of fresh air in these politically-correct times that Paul Nicholas’s interpretation of The Major, clearly suffering with the onset of dementia, is given such a beautifully weighted and perfectly pitched performance. Equally, Rachel Izen’s hard of hearing and cantankerous Mrs Richards (“What?”) is another comedy gem.

Paul Nicholas

Creative credits are due to Liz Ascroft’s set that cleverly captures the essence of the Torquay original, along with Kate Waters’ fight direction that has the physical slapstick honed to perfection. And Campbell Young Associates’ wig design for Sybil deserves its own Olivier Award just for looking so bloody brilliant!

This critic sat down with scepticism and left the theatre with eyes and cheeks wet from laughter. Quality comedy demands a holy trinity of first-class writing, acting genius and pinpoint timing. Fawlty Towers has all three - it’s the funniest show in town.

Runs until September 28th

Photo credit: Hugo Glendinning

Monty Python Live (mostly) - Review

O2, London

****

Let’s put the Python re-union into context please. The gathering of these 5 comedy talents on one stage is an iconic event. Monty Python, in the 1970’s and evolving from TW3 and Beyond The Fringe, re-defined what television comedy could be with an impact not dissimilar to what Elvis Presley did for rock n roll.

Such was the reach of their scripts that I grew up (and I think of myself as moderately well read) believing that they came up with the phrase “this mortal coil” (cf. The Parrot Sketch) and it wasn’t until I studied Hamlet for A Level that I realised the words were penned by the Bard. Us geeky 50-somethings, on both sides of the Atlantic (and the Americans LOVE Monty Python – remember that Eric Idle’s musical, Spamalot, began life on Broadway) can quote from the sketch outright and sing The Lumberjack Song too. But remarkably, even those far younger can still relate to that ultimate rhetorical question (only recently referred to by Gary Lineker in a World Cup commentary) “ What have the Roman’s done for us?”

And those references are but a handful of the Python’s contributions to the English-speaking comedy scene. Whilst the TV series was a product of the 1970’s, much of their writing has proved timeless. They are all getting old now and it is to Idle’s credit that he motivated all his surving peers to re-form for the show. Sure, the O2 show was at times schmaltzy and cheesy – but actually, so what? These guys ripped up the rule book in their day (and in that glorious day too, when there were only three broadcast channels and all with decent risk-taking comedy budgets at their disposal) and they paved the way for acts from The Goodies, through to The Young Ones and Little Britain to follow. Their humour was madcap, but brilliant and bravely innovative. They didn’t play down to a lowest common denominator – rather the Pythons assumed a basic working knowledge of massive cultural pillars amongst their audience: Shakespeare, Philosophy, History.

So, to see the five, live on stage performing The Four Yorkshiremen (for which we were indeed lucky) was actually, nothing short of a privilege. This tour will not be repeated – It is indeed one down, five to go and with all probability, one or more of them could well have joined the Choir Invisible in the next few years. So to witness Michael Palin, 71 and now the widely acclaimed Peter Ustinov / Alan Whicker (improved version) of his generation amongst the broadcast world, clad in suspenders, basque and acknowledging his show-biz roots, was simply priceless.

Decades old words were brought to delicious life in a song and dance extravanganza that was as tasteless and wonderfully tacky as it was brilliantly executed. Salutations to John Du Prez whose orchestra segued effortlessly from de Souza's Liberty Bell to Idle &co's more provocative compositions. Arlene Phillips (no less) and Richard Roe's choreography was drilled to pinpoint precision, whilst Carol Cleveland reprising her role as the boys' token-female, has simply not aged a jot!

Don’t compare Cleese, Gilliam, Idle, Jones and Palin coldly, as pensioners acting out sketches that are 40 years old. If that is all you see at the O2, then you have wasted your ticket money. These men, together with Graham Chapman RIP, changed the way many people in the Western World laugh. They mocked the establishment, tradition and taboo and in their wake have left a legacy of brilliantly crafted scripts. Comedy gold.

Playing at the O2 until 20th July 2014

Tickets available from the O2 and also, at discounted prices, from Viagogo and Seatwave