hOWL - Review

*

Written by Howard Jacobson

In perhaps one of the most shamelessly exploitative works of fiction, and arguably an extremely unfunny comedy, Howard Jacobson’s hOWL charts the journey of Ferdinand Draxler MBE, a Jewish headteacher from south London as he navigates his world following the massacres of October 7th 2023.

Draxler is a character whose credibility quite simply defies belief. Married to a non-Jew, their daughter Zoe is a staunch antizionist, his brother Isak who had emigrated to Israel also harbors a skeptical view of the Jewish state. Draxler’s Deputy Head, Axelberg, is a Christian man who converts to Judaism so that he too can assume an Israel-critical stance. Draxler’s mother is a survivor of Bergen-Belsen concentration camp where she may, or may not, have had a sexual relationship with the camp’s Nazi commandant.

Notwithstanding this eclectic array of characters, Jacobson subjects his protagonist to the raft of de-humanizing experiences that have befallen the diaspora since October 7th. Many readers will have found themselves facing ghastly antisemitic challenges in recent times. Draxler experiences almost all of them. De-platforming, raw hatred, Banksy’s murals, heck, even Glastonbury gets a mention. It is as though Jacobson has worked his way through a checklist of antisemitic/antizionist tropes and abuses, ensuring that as many as possible can be woven into the threadbare tapestry of his prose.

The book drifts in and out of reality, Jacobson perhaps having intended his blurred use of timelines to reflect Draxler’s loss of reason as the narrative unfolds. In reality, this blurring by the writer masks an overall incoherence that is found to be liberally sprinkled with gratuitous sexual references. Other than for prurient sensationalism, or a (very) cheap laugh, why else does Jacobson feel the need to let us know that as a teenager, Isak masturbated into his shirt drawer?

Almost halfway through the novel, Jacobson reveals a worrying (possibly autobiographical?) sentiment. In a letter that Draxler is penning to his daughter in an attempt towards an ideological reconciliation, he writes: “I won’t say the baby-murdering, land-grabbing Jew you march against does not somewhere exist, but he is not me.” In that one sentence Jacobson single-handedly pours petrol onto the fires of one of the oldest antisemitic tropes, the Blood Libel, and for that, Howard Jacobson, one of the most celebrated Jewish writers of our time, is to be condemned.

The book’s jacket bears a quote from Patrick Marber, lauding hOWL that reads: “A howling comic masterpiece”. In those four words Marber brings the classic children’s fable of The Emperor’s New Clothes, bang up to date. To be clear, Jacobson has not written a comic masterpiece.

To have released – what the book’s publishers Jonathan Cape describe as – a ‘tragicomedy’, in the wake of October 7th, a day so horrific that many of its survivors have yet to fully address the impact of its trauma and more than 1,200 families mourn their murdered relatives, and as world Jewry faces murderous antisemitism on a scale not seen since the Holocaust, stands as possibly the most crass, insensitive and shamefully opportunistic decision in the hitherto noble history of Anglo-Jewish literature.

The writers Eli Wiesel and Eli Sharabi, who both survived the horrors of the infernal depths of antisemitic Jew-hatred, are amongst the most qualified to write of those desperate times. In their shadow, Jacobson is but a literary pygmy. He should donate any income earned from this execrable work to a charity that supports the rebuilding of those devastated Israeli communities within the Gaza Envelope.

hOWL is available from all the usual bookselling outlets.

The Producers - Review

Garrick Theatre, London

*****

Music and lyrics by Mel Brooks
Book by Mel Brooks and Thomas Meehan

Directed by Patrick Marber

Richard Kind and the company of The Producers

It seems almost impossible to believe that The Producers came out as a film in 1967, nearly 60 years ago. It remains a comedic masterpiece written by surely one of the greatest comics of all time, the legendary Mel Brooks, himself now a sprightly 99 years old. To many, turning the film into a stage musical was akin to drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa. Why attempt to improve perfection? In 2001 they achieved the impossible, turning a brilliant film into an equally brilliant and hilarious musical.

The plot is simple. It seems that there is more money to be made in producing a guaranteed failure on Broadway than a hit show, so Bialystock and his naïve accountant partner Leopold Bloom, set out to create a guaranteed disaster and pocket $2 million. 

After a highly successful run at the Menier Chocolate Factory, the show transferred to London's Garrick Theatre. Andy Nyman, who opened at the Menier as Bialystock is taking a brief sabbatical and has handed his cardboard belt to Broadway actor Richard Kind. Kind's on-stage energy levels are never dialled to less than eleven, and he has the comedic ability to earn a round of applause with just a look or a simple, subtle gesture. He inhabits the role as if it were a tailor-made suit and eeks out every single molecule of the crooked producer. He’s as crooked as a politician, but the audience loves and roots for him.

Elsewhere, this tried, tested and fabulous company continue. Marc Antolin plays the neurotic, shy accountant, Leopold Bloom, drawn into Max’s nefarious, fraudulent scheme. Antolin can sing and dance superbly, having everything one needs to be a musical star and shining in every scene. 

The rest of the cast are equally superb, wringing every last ounce of comedy gold from the simplest, even throw-away lines, turning already inspired characters into even better, funnier versions. Australian Trevor Ashley is hilarious as the hopeless director Roger Debris, and is clearly loving every on-stage moment, as is his ‘assistant’ Carmen Ghia played by Raj Ghatak. The duo bring a new dimension to camp and the result is a gem. Harry Morrison as the deranged playwright  Franz Liebkind, eats the scenery whenever he’s on stage - the laughter he induces is painful! Special mention to the pigeons scene – a terrific touch. 

The always reliable Joanna Woodward plays Ulla, the barely intelligible ‘Swedish secretary’ hired by Max and Leo, and her Monroe-esque presence illuminates the stage as does her comedy timing. 

What is communicated so clearly to the packed audience is that every member of the entire ensemble is having a blast, seemingly enjoying their roles as much we are enjoying watching them. Is this a show for the easily offended? No. But that's the point. A musical entitled "Springtime for Hitler" was shocking in 1967. Now the swinging sixties have evolved into the grim, divided, angry 2020s and in many ways, the show's message is stronger and more relevant than ever.

The Producers is an outrageously offensive, camp, rude, and irreverent musical from which no one is safe from being the butt of a joke. I loved every moment of it. One word sums it up, a word we hear less and less these days – fun. Enjoy it while it’s still legal.

Reviewed by Russ Kane

Booking to 19th September

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

The Producers - Review

Garrick Theatre, London

****

Music and lyrics by Mel Brooks
Book by Mel Brooks and Thomas Meehan

Directed by Patrick Marber

Andy Nyman

The two stars of this Menier Chocolate Factory revival of The Producers are Andy Nyman’s stunning take on Max Bialystock and Mel Brooks’s timeless script and libretto which, no matter how many times one may have seen the show or the movie(s), delivers gags that never grow old.

Bestriding the stage like a (diminutive) Colossus, Nyman looks the part. Capturing the impresario’s scheming slobbery, Nyman's is possibly the finest Bialystock to have played on a London stage. He nails the sharp self-deprecating irony to a tee, and what’s more he can hold a note too. Nyman’s flawless singing leads to a glorious delivery of his 11 o’clock number, Betrayed.

As Leo Bloom, the haplessly inadequate accountant sent to balance the producer’s books, Marc Antolin brings musical theatre expertise to the role but lacks an authenticity. With a performance that’s technically sound (the boy can surely sing and dance), there’s something missing in the chemistry of his improbable pairing with the monstrous Bialystock.

The show’s featured roles are all a blast of sheer theatrical hilarity. Joanna Woodward’s Ulla is every inch the blonde Swedish bombshell, Trevor Ashley’s Roger Debris is a work of camp genius, while Harry Morrison’s Nazi playwright Franz Liebling is gloriously overplayed to perfection.

Lorin Latarro’s choreography is another treat, with an array of styles from pastiche Jewish traditional through to Broadway-infused tap numbers. The economy of the show’s staging however, that may have worked cutely well and garnered the audience's sympathy in the extremely confined Menier space, seems a little understated on its transfer into the West End.

An interesting observation on the show is that both Andy Nyman and Zero Mostel (who created Max Bialystock in the first (1967) movie) have trodden similar paths en route to playing Brooks's outlandish producer. Mostel had created Tevye on Broadway in the 1964 premiere of Fiddler on the Roof, a role that Nyman was to assume (again at the Menier) nearly 60 years later. Who knows? Perhaps there is an understanding of the very essence of larger than life Jewish characterisation that an acting journey from the shtetl to the Great White Way provides? Either way, it works!

This revival of The Producers, the West End’s first in 20 years, makes for a great evening of irreverent musical comedy. Brooks’s gags are relentless, perfectly pitched, and guaranteed to offend (almost) everyone.

Booking until 21st February 2026

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank - Review

Marylebone Theatre, London

*

Written by Nathan Englander

Directed by Patrick Marber

The cast

In one London season Patrick Marber has managed to helm two productions drawn from the Holocaust that range from the writings of a genius through to the cheaper scribblings of the gutter. His (still-runnning) production of The Producers channels Mel Brooks’ brilliance at making the evil of the Nazi’s Jew-hatred become the target of our mocking laughter. What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank however is a shallow and sensationalist take on modern Jewry that is viewed through a disappointingly skewed prism.

The play is set in the home of Phil and Debbie. These are two Floridian Jews who, if they were real rather than fictional, may just possibly possess more cultural integrity than writer Nathan Englander has bestowed upon them, their take on their faith proving to be little more than an inconsistent mix of facile liberal cliches. 

Opposite them and visiting from Israel, are the ultra-observant Shoshana and her husband Yerucham, the two women having been the closest of childhood friends before Shoshana discovered orthodoxy.

Englander’s arguments are shallow and one-sided. In a play that was updated last year to reflect the conflict in Gaza (so let’s call this script a version 2.0) the dialogue spoken by Phil and Debbie sounds at times as though it has been penned by the Gaza Health Ministry. If this is v2.0, then the play is actually crying out for a v3.0 to reflect the barbarity of being held captive by Hamas that is only now being reported upon by the recently released hostages. Of course there will be no such further revision, but these recent events serve to indicate just how clumsy, untimely and naively examined, Englander’s arguments prove to be.

Cheap jokes about the Holocaust pepper the play’s final act in dialogue exchanges that would not be out of place at a gathering of neo-Nazis rather than a household of middle-aged Jews. Lob in a reference that equates Jewish nationalism with White Nationalism and the whole shtick becomes quite nauseous.

This is a starry cast delivering an evening of slickly performed intellectual vacuity. One to avoid.

Runs until 15th February

Photo credit: Mark Senior

The Producers - Review

Menier Chocolate Factory, London

****

Music and lyrics by Mel Brooks
Book by Mel Brooks and Thomas Meehan

Directed by Patrick Marber

Andy Nyman and Marc Antolin

The Producers that has just opened at the Menier Chocolate Factory has sold out for the entirety of its 14-week run before one review has even been published! Patrick Marber directs and his helming of this revival of Mel Brooks’ comic gem, is impeccable. As musicals go The Producers is massive and to have been able to have crammed it into the Menier’s intimacy is quite an achievement. Designer Scott Pask has used the venue’s size to bring us closer to the chemistry of the relationship between scheming Broadway producer Max Bialystock and his apparently timid accountant Leo Bloom.

The show’s plot famously centres around Bialystock and Bloom’s need to create a surefire flop, so as to avoid having to pay out any returns to Bialystock’s “little old lady” angels who he has seduced and defrauded by overselling the profits of his next show many times over. The pair stumble across Franz Liebkind, a Nazi playwright whose Springtime For Hitler they seize upon as a show in the worst possible taste and guaranteed to bomb at the box office. Of course, through an over-plastering of camp and kitsch, the musical goes on to become a Broadway smash and the pair are exposed as scheming crooks.

The accomplished Andy Nyman (who played Tevye at the Menier six years ago) is Bialystock with Marc Antolin playing Bloom. Nyman masters Bialystock’s New York Jewish shtick, getting under the skin of the man’s chutzpah and irreverence. Bialystock however needs to bestride his scenes like a colossus and there is something just a touch diminutive in Nyman’s turn. His take on the monstrous producer is unlikely to be remembered as one of the greats.

It is Marber’s supporting characters, from the show-within-a-show, who really bring this production to life. Playing Broadway director Roger De Bris is Trevor Ashley who gives possibly the finest interpretation ever to this larger than life character. Equally Harry Morrison's Franz Liebkind is a treat. Joanna Woodward gamely steps up to the role of Swedish blonde Ulla, hired as the producers’ assistant and she too delivers a performance that is as fabulous as her stunning looks.

Marber’s ensemble are close to flawless with Lorin Latarro’s choreography proving to be a work of genius within the Menier’s confines. Matthew Samer’s musical direction is also a delight.

Winter may be upon us but there's no room for snowflakes at The Producers. Aside from its two protagonists who end up in Sing Sing, this is a show that takes no prisoners. And as Mel Brooks mercilessly mocks a slew of minorities, the evening makes for one big guilty pleasure. 

Runs until March 1st 2025

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

Nachtland - Review

Young Vic, London

*****

Written by Marius von Mayenburg

Translated by Maja Zade

Directed by Patrick Marber

Jane Horrocks

Nachtland is an intriguing, brilliantly delivered examination of post-Holocaust German identity. 

Philipp and Nicola (John Heffernan and Dorothea Myer-Bennett) are brother and sister meeting in the house of their recently deceased father to clear his belongings.

Opening with typical sibling squabbles over who had cared the most for their father in his decline, their dynamic soon shifts on the discovery of a framed picture in the attic that on close inspection, is found to be one of Adolf Hitler’s early watercolour paintings. The drama quickly evolves into an exploration of base greed, as the siblings engage Evamaria (Jane Horrocks) to verify the artwork’s provenance with a view to realising its value, contrasted with the emotional agonies of Philippa’s Jewish wife Judith (Jenna Augen), who is appalled at the siblings’ crass materiality in their exploiting an artefact of Hitler. 

Marius von Maayerburg’s genius (expertly translated by Maja Zade) lies in his crafting of brilliantly worded arguments that never once fall into maudling or simplistic explanations, but rather outline the ongoing traumatic legacy of the Holocaust and its impact upon modern Jewish identity - and counterpointing this impact with the blunt disinterested disconnection of Judith’s in-laws.

The second half of this ninety minute one-act work introduces Angus Wright as Kahl, a would-be purchaser of the painting and Nazi sympathiser, who is found to be a vile misogynist. Throw in a small turn from Gunnar Cauthery as Nicola’s husband Fabian who contracts tetanus in picking out nails from the picture’s antique frame and the evening’s sextet is complete.

The writing is brilliant, the cast is flawless and as the evening evolves, occasional pockets of humour lead to a final act that is both harrowing and shocking. Anna Fleischle’s deceptively mind-bending set is the perfect complement to Patrick Marber’s assured and deft direction.

With occasional musical interludes ranging from Bowie to Beethoven and Mahler, Nachtland is outstanding theatre.

Runs until 20th April

Photo credit: Ellie Kurttz

Habeas Corpus - Review

Menier Chocolate Factory, London

*****

Written by Alan Bennett

Directed by Patrick Marber

The cast of Habeas Corpus

London has been treated to some top-notch time machine drama recently. Abigail’s Party has not long closed at the Park Theatre and now Alan Bennett’s outrageous 1973 farce Habeas Corpus plays until February at the Menier, delivering a masterclass in cruel comedy theatre.

To summarise the plot of Habeas Corpus in a way that avoids spoilers is nigh on impossible. Suffice to say, Bennett takes the premise of the (very) finite frailty of all human life, and around a bevy of 2-dimensional characters, weaves the fabric of a 3-D narrative that is simply glorious in its detailed relief. This play harks back to an unfettered, saucy seaside-postcard era, free of political correctness, when the human condition could be a source of comedy.

Male inadequacies, middle-aged fantasies, breast-sizes and even mental health are all the targets of Bennett’s incisive pen and in the hands of a lesser cast the evening could so easily have been rendered crass and tawdry. But Patrick Marber moulds his luxuriously cast company into a cohesive thing of beauty, whose acting is beyond flawless and whose timings have clearly been meticulously rehearsed to perfection.

In a medley of smut and trouser-dropping hilarity, Bennett lays bare the hypocrisies of the British class system, the medical profession and the vanities of both the sexes. Marriage, mortality and fidelity are all fair game and in these current times, where shows frequently carry content warnings, it would be as well to caution that this play will melt snowflakes. The evening will only be enjoyed by those who are able to leave their prejudices at the Menier’s door.

The cast of 11 are all magnificent, professionals at the top of their game who like interlinking cogs make the evening run like clockwork. For five-star theatre of pure escapism and which holds up a mirror to us all, this is the perfect adult pantomime. Unmissable entertainment

Runs until 26th February 2022

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan