What (is) a Woman - Review

Arcola Theatre, London

****

Written by Andrée Bernard

Directed by Michael Strassen 

Andrée Bernard

For two hours Andrée Bernard holds the audience rapt in her one-woman wonder What (is) a Woman, a play with music penned by the actor herself.

Telling the story of an (un-named) woman, Bernard skilfully blurs any boundaries between autobiographical fact and fiction as her tale follows the arc of an actress from a teenage drama-school naïf through to the worldly wisdom of middle-age.

Bernard charts us through her character’s crushes and loves - from the sad abortions of her early sexual experiences through to the tragic desolation of failed IVF attempts in her later years, in a narrative of remarkably bitter-sweet charm.

This male reviewer cannot comment upon the authenticity of Bernard’s prose, but as she exhaustingly commands both the Arcola Studio’s compact stage and our attention with her story, and irrespective of our own sex, one cannot fail to be moved by the overwhelming humanity of the evening.

Bernard brilliantly captures the key people who’ve impacted her character’s life - from an elderly bandy-legged drama coach through her various lovers and a frequently appearing hilarious pastiche of her gay, cigar-chomping agent, Cholmondeley.

The script ranges from witty, to biting, to painfully poignant - and in an elegantly flowing dress and sensible heels, Bernard’s performance, directed by Michael Strassen and choreographed by Lucie Pankhurst, is a whirl of perfectly positioned movement.

The acting is flawless - how Bernard ages her character with no additional makeup or costuming is little short of remarkable - and the writing and compositions, en-pointe throughout. There may be moments when Bernard’s singing is less than perfect, but the strength of her lyrics carry the songs nonetheless.

Daniel Looseley and Jess Martin on keyboards and bass respectively provide the musical accompaniment to an evening of outstanding new writing, brilliantly performed.

Runs until 4th May

Photo credit: Kate Scott

The Rise And Fall Of Little Voice - Review

Barn Theatre, Cirencester



***


Written by Jim Cartwright
Directed by Michael Strassen

Sarah Louise Hughes

A first and long overdue trip to Cirencester’s Barn Theatre where one finds an imaginative conversion of historic buildings into a modern theatre, whose facilities are bright and attractive. If there is one complaint it is that the seating rake is only applied to alternate rows - and thus there exists a distinct possibility of being seated behind a visually obstructive person in front. No doubt though that this is a problem that can relatively easily be remedied. What is clear is that a beautiful venue has been created in a beautiful town and it deserves artistic success.

That artistic success however is hard to spot in the Barn’s current production of The Rise And Fall Of Little Voice, where Jim Cartwright’s play, which should be a scorching contrast of the highs and lows of the human condition falls short of the target. To summarise, Little Voice (LV) is the teenage daughter of Mari Hoff - a neglectful mother. Known as LV because she barely speaks, the young girl has withdrawn into a world in which she has learned to sing, perfectly, the recordings of Cilla Black, Shirley Bassett, Marilyn Monroe, Edith Piaf etc etc, having played them incessantly from her late father’s vinyl collection. When Mari comes home drunk one night accompanied by sleazy music manager Ray Say, in pursuit of a sordid sofa fumble, Say happens to overhear LV singing. Recognising her commercial potential as a singer, a painful tale of differing hopes, aspirations and brutal disappointment unfolds.

The strengths in this show  will always flow from the young woman playing LV and in Sarah Louise Hughes, director Michael Strassen has unearthed a gem. Fresh out of Italia Conti and a NYMT alumna to boot, Hughes offers a depth and wisdom to her portrayal of the damaged daughter that belies her age. Dramatically convincing and vocally perfect, she captures LV’s complexities while offering a sensational take on some of the last century’s greatest songs.

Unfortunately the excellence stops there. Gillian McCafferty plays Mari who, while managing to display much maternal misery, mangles most of Cartwright’s carefully crafted text. There is wry, bittersweet humour written into her role which should leave the audience, certainly for much of the first half, chuckling uncomfortably. All too often however, Mari’s wit is swept away in a garble of rushed prose. McCafferty makes a decent fist of a couple of monologues, and in both acts too, but they are too little too late.

Gary Richards is Ray Say - and again Strassen has let what could be a critically acidic and nasty character be fleshed out in little more than cardboard. Richards lacks passion and credibility and while his stumbling over lines could be forgiven, when set against an overall lacklustre delivery he sails perilously close to bringing the audience’s delicately suspended disbelief crashing to the ground.. The second act demands that he sings Roy Orbison’s classic It’s Over. Done well, this should be a moment of theatrical electricity - the swan song of a rat, gasping for air at the bottom of life’s barrel. In this show, the song is rendered dull and devoid of passion. 

There are other moments of redemption - Say’s exchanges with local club owner Mr Boo (Stephen Omer) are sleazily credible as the men plot their exploitation of LV’s innocent potential. Hadley Brown puts in a turn of some credible kindness as the telephone engineer who forges a real emotional connection with LV. Likewise Larissa Hunter’s Sadie, Mari’s much put upon best friend is another modest role, performed with care and craft.

But aside from Hughes’ magical touch, this show is an opportunity squandered. Strassen, usually a master in portraying the grit of hard Northern lives, is better than this.

Runs until 4th August

Photo credit: Benjamin Collins

The Fix - Review

Union Theatre, London

****

Music by Dana P. Rowe

Book & lyrics by John Dempsey

Directed & choreographed by Michael Strassen

Lucy Williamson

The timing could hardly be better as Michael Strassen reprises his take on The Fix. With the United States hurtling towards what is likely to be the most fiercely contested Presidential election in decades, John Dempsey and Dana P. Rowe's satirical expose of the American political machine is apposite to say the least.

Fra Fee is the naive Cal Chandler - who when his Senator father dies in his mistress' bed is ruthlessly thrust into the race for political power by his scheming mother Violet. While Violet may be the power behind the Chandler throne, pulling the strings is her late husband's brother Grahame, crippled by polio and with an eye on a seat in the judiciary. Oh, and there's been a romantic liaison between Violet and Grahame too - think of Hamlet, Macbeth and The West Wing all hurled into a blender and you start to get close to the Machiavellian machinations of the aspirational Chandler administration.

The acting is fine throughout - and Fee marks the emergent Chandler well, convincing us of the young man's reluctance to have been dragged from his privileged but youthful primrose path, into the glaring scrutiny of public life and politics. There's charming supporting work too from the talented Madalena Alberto as Tina McCoy, a stripper who wins Cal's love, tempting him away from his loveless marriage of convenience. 

The show however is driven by the astonishing performances of Lucy Williamson as Violet and Ken Christiansen's Grahame. Williamson's performance is a powerhouse. In a show that is un-mic'd (see below) her performance is one of the few that offers vocal magnificence, with passion and nuance elicited from every syllable. 

Christiansen, who only last month was wowing the Union's audiences in Little Voice, yet again nails his character's manipulative duplicity. Flawless in both voice and presence, alongside Williamson, the pair steal every scene they're in.

There is magnificent supporting work too from Peter Saul Blewden and Alastair Hill who between them offer up a range of incidental characters, all crucial to the narrative.

This is the first production at The Union Theatre's new space across the road. The building is a beautiful improvement and Sasha Regan should feel justly proud of what she has achieved. But, the acoustics of the new place need a lot of careful thought as sat in the third row, too much of the show's lyrics proved inaudible. Likewise, when action was played out low down on the Union's floor, it becomes invisible to those of us further back. These are very early teething days for the new venue of course, but in the old place, audiences were barely raked and there was little need for mics. The new space offers much gorgeous opportunity for sure, but it also presents challenges that future producers and directors must learn to overcome.

For the most part, Strassen's direction and choreography are a thrilling fusion of sound and vision, enhanced by Josh Sood’s 4 piece band. Simply staged and with an occasional use of the American flag Strassen cleverly evokes the darker side of USA politics. Viewed from Britain, the 2016 Presidential race sees Donald Trump frequently held out as an almost pantomime villain. The closing scene of The Fix however argues otherwise. There's a strong suggestion, as Strassen places the sensational Williamson behind a lectern, maniacal and eyes-blazing, that Hillary Clinton is the more devious contender.

Runs until 6th August

Photo credit: Darren Bell

Tommy - Review

Greenwich Theatre, London

*****

Music and lyrics by Pete Townshend

Book by Pete Townshend and Des McAnuff

Additional music and lyrics by John Entwhistle and Keith Moon

Directed by Michael Strassen

Ashley Birchall

Amidst the present day plethora of so called "juke box" musicals, in which bands' and singers' back catalogues are ruthlessly plundered to provide musical highlights for a show that is either autobiographical or worse still, downright anodyne in its narrative, it is an absolute joy for London to be re-united with Tommy.

Released in 1969, The Who's brave and stunning concept album was the first (and arguably the best ever) rock opera, telling an original tale of a young boy turned deaf, dumb and blind after witnessing his RAF pilot father, until then missing presumed shot down in a Second World War dogfight, return home unexpectedly after the War and shoot dead his wife's (Tommy's mother) new lover.

Trapped in a life of sensory deprivation, evil and abusive family members heap merciless bullying and sexual abuse onto Tommy's torments until, by chance, he discovers a gift for pinball - and a road to his salvation emerges. Painting a gritty if sometimes psychedelic picture of a post-war Britain struggling to define itself through rock music, Tommy is not only a fabulous work of fiction – it also makes for fascinating social comment.  

I must declare an interest. Having grown up with Tommy as one of my soundtracks to the 1970s, along with hard-wired memories of Ken Russell’s 1975 film adaptation, my expectations (riskily) ran high for Michael Strassen's production at the Greenwich Theatre. Those expectations were not only met, but like Tommy's mirror they were smashed, in a show that offered an all too rare trinity of perfection in song, movement and music.

Credit first to the band. Under Kevin Oliver Jones' direction and guitar work, Lauren Storer on keyboards, bassist Paolo Minervini, with Kamil Bartnik on drums create a sound that offers a beautifully weighted tribute to the original mix, with a rock pulse that could have come straight from a time machine. One minor criticism is that the show’s sound desk still need to get the balance finely tuned.

The Overture’s opening bars set the standard for the rest of the evening. As Jones' band work their way through the score's iconic motifs, Mark Smith's choreography plays out the prologue's complex narrative solely through dance and mime. Smith’s routines are expert in both conception and execution and combined with Strassen's interpretation of the libretto, give rise to tableaux that are breathtaking in their ingenuity, simplicity and brilliance.

In the title role Ashley Birchall leads the company, onstage throughout, with a performance fused with energy and sensitivity. Birchall’s energy in I’m Free complementing the heart rending sensitivity he offers in See Me, Feel Me.  In a role that by definition demands an extensive use of mime and physicality Smith and Strassen had between them coaxed excellence from the young man. Miranda Wilford delivers her usual level of brilliance as Mrs Walker (Tommy’s mother) having to age, both physically and in attitude, from carefree young teenager to a middle aged matriarch, her Smash The Mirror an impressive solo.

Giovanni Spano is every inch a school bully as his Cousin Kevin tortures Tommy, though even his wickedness is trumped by John Barr, whose sensational take on the vile paedophile, Tommy’s Uncle Ernie offers perhaps one of the nastiest characters in the canon. If the lyrics to Fiddle About are shocking, they were matched only by the ghastly yet skilfully undertstated performance of Barr’s toothless menacing molester. Barr’s monstrous creation is enhanced later in act one by Smith’s choreography of Eyesight To The Blind, with both Ernie and Kevin in a Fosse-inspired routine – tatty trilbys replacing the legendary choreographer’s signature bowler hats.

Confined by a modest budget, Nik Corrall’s vision of the show’s sets is masterful. A clever use of rope suggested a domestic living room – whilst the brilliance of the pinball sequence will not be given away in this review.

Only here for three weeks, Tommy is unmissable and up there with the very best of musical theatre on offer in London today. See it, hear it!


Runs until 23rd August
Photo credit: Claire Bilyard

Duncton Wood - Review

Union Theatre, London

***

Music and lyrics by Mark Carroll

Books by James Peries

Based on the novel by William Horwood

Directed by Michael Strassen

Duncton Wood is an ambitious musical from Mark Carroll, adapting the best-selling novel famously set in the meadowed world of Oxfordshire’s moles.

In the micro-budget world of the Union Theatre, where the noise of passing trains over the arches above can occasionally be a distraction, here their rumble serves well to suggest the subterranean domain we are pitched into. Sadly there’s not much else to remind us that this story is playing out underground and of course where William Horwood’s fantastic writing succeeded was in letting his readers' imaginations run wild in creating the conflicts and passions of his blind mammals’ confines. 

Fantasy story telling demands the highest burden of proof for our disbelief to be suspended (and ideally from a great height), but in Duncton Wood it barely leaves the ground. What remains is a troupe of talented performers, (including many scantily clad young men) along with some occasional moments of inspired ensemble singing. 

When one sees Cats, The Lion King or War Horse, (and accepting that the financial comparison between these titles and Duncton Wood is unfair) those shows' production values seal the illusions that their creative teams have strived for. Above all, they convince us that we are seeing living beasts rather than masked performers. Not so here, because for all of Carroll’s noble intentions, the show’s overarching impression is of a lengthy, amateurish workshop piece that is ultimately going to require a very risky investment if it is to live on. 

Michael Strassen is an accomplished and visionary director and as an experimental piece of theatre his ensemble numbers, particularly Victory in act one and After The Rain, after the interval, are stirring stuff. But too many of his solo voices are woefully under-projected. That being said, those whose acting did make me sit up were Amelia-Rose Morgan’s Rebecca and Robert Dalton’s brief appearances as Burhead. Most of this cast would do well to study their veteran colleagues Trevor Jones and Anthony Cable, who with years of experience and a smattering of operatic work too, know how to create vocal impact. There are also occasional scenes that are played out at floor level, with actors lain prone on the ground. Sat in the Union’s back rows, this action is annoyingly invisible.

The story is complex – and any future production would do well to include a synopsis in the programme. It’s basically good moles versus warrior bad moles, with the rapacious villains being profiled in black (an unhelpful reinforcement of racial prejudice, producers take note) and kitted out with Wolverine/Freddy Krueger type claws. The plot was impossible to decipher, but along the way there is a Romeo and Juliet inspired tryst and a spot of mole-themed infanticide to kick the pace along.  

There are exhilarating moments to Carroll’s score, with a thoroughly English pulse that at times hints at Howard Goodall’s The Hired Man yet also manages a surprisingly amusing nod to Carmen’s Habanera in act one’s Rose The Healer. The five-piece band work hard throughout under Josh Sood’s direction and a special mention to Jody Sapsard’s delightful work on reeds.

Quite where the production’s much trumpeted funding from the Arts Council and the Mackintosh Foundation has been used is hard to see - though if the money’s been spent paying actors a decent wage, a tough ask for any fringe show in this day and age, then fair enough.

Carroll has clearly and commendably invested months of his life into writing this piece and students and genre devotees should see the show if only for its brave curiosity value. But the script demands edits and an increased accessibility – and the staging needs to be convincingly re-engineered if the audience is to be drawn into the moles’ world. It is a credit to British talent that the show has been created, but if Duncton Wood is truly and successfully to see the light of day, then there is a lot more work to do.

Runs until 20th June 2015

Pacific Overtures - Review

Union Theatre, London

****

Music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim
Book by John Weidman
Additional material by Hugh Wheeler
Directed by Michael Strassen

The company of Pacific Overtures

One of his least performed musicals, Pacific Overtures sees Sondheim cast his gimlet eye on the diplomatic advances (the pacific overtures of the title) that America and subsequently other nations too, made towards Imperial Japan around the middle of the nineteenth century. The finely crafted tale depicts the guardians of a rarefied Japan grappling with the threat that the "barbarians" from across the Pacific posed to their culture and sovereignty. There is balance in the writing though and whilst Japan surely had a refined elegance to its way of life, Sondheim strips the scales away, portraying a harsh and murderous Japanese dictatorship, demeaning of women and with an ethos of intolerance and jingoistic nationalism fascist enough to make UKIP resemble the Rainbow Alliance.

There are few lyrical minds wittier than Sondheim and his act one lyrics, with frequent Haiku sub-cadences present an aural suggestion of Japan that has an uncanny authenticity. Michael Strassen's bold interpretation of the complex work again hints at his mastery of the musical, particularly with his work so often amongst the restrained budgets of off-West End theatre

Simple drapes suggest the ascetic world of this interpretation and with the undercroft auditorium's air heavy with the scent of joss sticks, the thematic nod to Kabuki is sealed. That the traditional Japanese art form demands a men-only cast will only have appealed to Sasha Regan's Union Theatre, a venue ever keen to present a scantily clad all-male flesh feast. But Strassen's vision holds firm and the artistic integrity of his staging is at times breathtaking, with some close harmony work that is sublime.

As with all of Sondheim’s shows, his musical numbers are akin to the Japanese military: They don't easily take prisoners. It's a simple choice, one either masters the Master's melodies or dies trying. Ken Christiansen may make for an imposing white-slapped Reciter, Shogun and ultimately Emperor, but he is found out on his singing solos. There is however excellence in abundance elsewhere. Ian Mowat is a delight in roles of varying gender and seniority, never bettered than as the geisha's madam in Welcome To Kanagawa, where his character seems to effortlessly conjoin The Engineer from Miss Saigon with Cabaret's Emcee. Amongst the boys Joel Harper-Jackson skilfully amuses as the Shogun's wife, Matt Jolly's Fisherman in Four Black Dragons is a treat, whilst Lee Van Geleen who recently impressed in HMS Pinafore, combines a pinpoint comic turn with a beautifully weighted baritone presence as the Russian Admiral.

Strassen's take on the complex piece is to be savoured, with Richard Bates' four piece band a delight, capturing much of the tale purely through the show's carefully crafted compositions. The company work in voice, movement and dance is top-notch, with Marios Nicolaides' ballet work an absolute treat. Oh and the three-part harmony of Pretty Lady has to be amongst the best in town. Not an easy show to watch, but unmissable both for Sondheim devotees and canny lovers of musical theatre.

Runs until 2nd August 2014

Season's Greetings

Union Theatre, London

***

Written by Alan Ayckbourn
Directed by Michael Strassen

Abigail Rosser

The Union Theatre's festive offering is Alan Ayckbourn's Seasons Greetings, a black comedy that bears occasional aspirations to farce. The world has moved on greatly since the play's 1980 premiere and what may once have passed for pointed hilarity is now awkwardly dated.

With men that are predominantly shallow stereotypes, it is down to Ayckbourn's women and Michael Strassen's actresses to provide some dramatic meat for the audience to chew over. Abigail Rosser's vivaciously beautiful Belinda, sexually and emotionally ignored by her husband, fizzes with bitterness and lustful desire. That she will passionately devour her plainer sister Rachel's boyfriend Clive is clear and the sibling angst that unfolds between these two women is one of the play's better explored themes. Pandora McCormick's Rachel, who has lived a sexless life spent in her more glamorous sister's shadow is a performance of assured sensitivity from a talented actress. Clumsy in the kitchen and also lusting for Clive is Phyllis, maritally inadequate, on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but nonetheless very well acted by Marianne Adams. In contrast Gavin Kerr's Clive is a lacklustre cliché, whilst the other male characters of assorted husbands and dotty ageing uncle make a moderate fist of their poorly fleshed out parts. Matthew Carter's manically and tragically inept Bernard is perhaps the best of the boys.

Seasons Greetings is a period piece harking back to an embarrassing era of cringe-worthy offence. The play hails from a time when references to suggested domestic violence or the grief of childlessness could be quickly glossed over by an audience eagerly awaiting their next laugh at either the farcical misunderstandings of a blundering old duffer or the puppet-show antics of a bumbling fool. Strassen directs well and the Union’s compact space has been cleverly moulded into a suburban downstairs. But whilst many of the family tensions shown are still relevant and recognisable, Ayckbourn’s crass construction is thankfully a ghost of Christmas past.

Runs until 4th January 2014

Billy

Union Theatre, London

*****

Book by Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais

Lyrics by Don Black

Music by John Barry

Directed by Michael Strassen



Keith Ramsay



Billy at the Union Theatre is the most sparkling celebration of talent currently to be found in an Off West End show, as this musical adaptation of Keith Waterhouse and Willis Hall's Billy Liar makes its first London revival since Michael Crawford made the role his own at Drury Lane in 1974. (A production that this reviewer attended.) Musicals that comment on social issues and life's complexities are more often than not to be found set in the USA and it adds to the joy of Billy that the show is resolutely rooted on this side of the Atlantic, an infectiously glorious snapshot and celebration of 1960's England.

Set over the course of one day in the typical Yorkshire town of Stradhoughton, the show follows undertaker's assistant Billy Fisher. An incorrigible liar and fantasist, he chases the town's girls having deceitfully gotten engaged to at least of two of them, in pursuit of adolescent fumbling sex whilst lacking any sense of emotional commitment to anyone else at all.

His family and friends make up the show's company and avoiding complex staging or scenery, Michael Strassen has elicited the most eloquent performances from his cast, who with the use of skilful lighting and sound effects, create tableaux that range from bedroom to a crowded commuter bus to busy mainline train stations.

Keith Ramsay is Billy who we first encounter in flannel pyjamas as he daydreams a wartime aerial conflict. Ramsey is an inspired casting as he nails both the comedy and the  sadness of Billy's pursuit of fantasies at the expense of any jot of responsibility. He is but one of a handful of outstanding actors in a troupe that is never less than excellent. Mark Carroll and Ricky Butt are his much put upon parents. Carroll's frustration at his son's indolence is almost palpable and Butt wraps up a convincingly worn down mother and wife, who in one of Billy's fantasy sequences also shows that she remains very hot on her pins in a nifty tap routine. Paddy Glyn's Gran is a treat of a performance of understated perceptive ageing, whilst amongst Billy's cohort of fiancées Katerina Stearman breaks our hearts in her un-reciprocated devotion to the young man, Laura Bryars' Rita all cocky feisty mouth and open legs is a northern gem and Rosie Clarkson's Barbara, who has her wholesome dreams of a married life with Billy roundly shattered by his double-dating immaturity, is an exquisitely voiced soprano.

Rosie Clarkson and Laura Bryars

It is no wonder that the show is so poignant yet also so brilliantly observed. With a book by comedy giants Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais and lyrics by Don Black, the creative talent that underlies the work is impeccable, supported by John Barry's melodies.

The tight space of the Union Theatre is brilliantly exploited by Strassen's intelligent handling of the piece and Tim Deiling's lighting highlights the transition between fantasy and reality seamlessly. This near-faultless production is another example of British brilliance in both writing and performance and should not be missed.

Runs to 29 June 2013