Nye - Review

National Theatre, London

*****

Written by Tim Price

Directed by Rufus Norris

Michael Sheen

Giving an extraordinary performance, Michael Sheen embodies Aneurin (Nye) Bevan in Tim Price’s new play. As Bevan lies dying of stomach cancer, Sheen takes us on a morphine-induced hallucination through the Welshman’s life, from his early career (following a brief stint down the mines) amidst the small town politics of Tredegar, through to his election as the MP for Ebbw Vale in 1929 and ultimately Cabinet Minister for Health and Housing and the visionary creator of the National Health Service in 1948.

In what is a fascinating analysis of both history and British socialism, Price’s narrative takes in Bevan’s unconventional yet loving marriage to Scottish MP Jennie Lee (fine work from Sharon Small) and sees him wittily spar with Tony Jayawardena’s brilliant cameo of Winston Churchill. Jon Furlong is equally brilliant, if repulsive, in his Mandelsonian take on Herbert Morrison (who was of course grandfather to the current Lord Mandelson). The other standout supporting roles are from Stephanie Jacob as Clement Attlee (driving a motorised No 10 desk around the stage), Rhodri Meilir as Bevan’s coal miner father David and Kezrena James as the starched yet supremely empathetic Nurse Ellie.

The story of the NHS’s formation is testament to Bevan’s strongly held belief in free health care for all at the point of need, forged from the iniquities of poverty and deprivation that he had seen in the Welsh mining valleys and throughout his career. Act Two’s revelation of the mercenary, self-preserving attitude of Britain’s doctors who fought tooth and nail against the privatisation of their highly lucrative profession makes for gripping drama.

The stagecraft on display is the National Theatre at its finest. Vicki Mortimer’s set sees hospital bedside curtains drawn across the stage in a variety of permutations including an ingenious suggestion of the House of Commons. Canny projections and an inspired use of laser-light to depict an underground seam of coal, only add to the evening’s theatrical magic.

The night however belongs to the pyjama-clad Michael Sheen. On stage virtually throughout and in a turn that includes a fabulous cover of Judy Garland’s Get Happy, Sheen is a tour-de-force treat in an evening of exquisite, unmissable theatre.

Runs until 11th May at the National Theatre and then at the Wales Millennium Centre from May 18th to 1st June

Photo credit: Johan Persson

The Amen Corner

National Theatre, London

*****

Written by James Baldwin

Directed by Rufus Norris

Marianne Jean-Baptiste

The Amen Corner at the National Theatre is a remarkable comment upon the lives of an African American community in 1953 Harlem. Rufus Norris’ interpretation of James Baldwin's play with music weaves a beautiful gospel lilt upon this scrutiny of a small church, its pastor, her family and the community elders. Whilst never leaving the claustrophobic confines of the church and Pastor Margaret Alexander's modest apartment, Baldwin dares to question the duplicity of religious fervour and amidst a background of a nascent Civil Rights push and with an all black cast, shows that hatred exists everywhere, not just amongst racist white folk.

Marianne Jean-Baptiste is Margaret. A single mother who following the infant death of her first child fled the the errant ways of Luke her alcoholic musician husband, gathering up her young son and donning the cloth as pastor to a committed if somewhat cynical city flock. Margaret's commitment to her faith is unquestioning. She makes decisions that are at times unpalatable, and Jean-Baptiste embodies her with such subtlety and also such passion, that we come to discover that in her world, faith has a dark side. It has provided her with a mechanism to deny much of life's ugliness and pain and further, Baldwin suggests that it has also served as a possible opiate to too many of the black community, dulling any sense of justified rebellion against the appalling racism that they were subject to through much of the 20th century,

Sharon D Clarke is Margaret's wise all seeing sister Odessa. Clarke is surely the grand-dame (and one day a deserved Dame?) of Britain's black acting community. Her fierceness combined with a compassionate protection of her sibling, offers a supporting role of strength and beauty whilst less well known Cecilia Noble turns in another masterful performance as a church elder who slowly sheds her early comic turn of virginity and bible bashing faux-purity, to reveal a malevolence of hatred and bitterness.

A surprise return of the estranged and dying Luke (Lucian Msamati) to the apartment questions all that Margaret has sought to hold dear for many years, and whilst Luke's lifestyle of wine, women and sin is anathema to the pastor, he provides the inspiration to their 18 year old musician son David, (yet another cracking performance, this time from newcomer Eric Kofi Abrefa) to quit the ghetto, free his spirit and make strides that are clearly signalled will influence the burgeoning demands of the Civil Rights movement.

Baldwin's writing is poetically profound and searching. If Arthur Miller's Death Of A Salesman highlighted the creaking gaps and flaws in the American Dream, then take the image of that play’s broken Willy Loman, re-write him as an African American woman and there emerges a strong argument to suggest that Margaret Alexander's story is as harsh a take on the realities of the black community’s strengths and battles as well as its flaws and failings.

The musical background to the work is impressive. The London Community Gospel Choir adding melodic brilliance to the The Reverend Bazil Meades arrangements, whilst Ian MacNeil's detailed set, split to show both church and apartment is another example of the timeless versatility of the Olivier stage. The final scene of passionate but cruelly heartless communal gospel singing, contrasted with Margaret's grief as she confronts her devastating personal loss, will break your heart.