The Deep Blue Sea - Review

Theatre Royal, Haymarket

*****

Written by Terence Rattigan

Directed by Lindsay Posner

Tamsin Greig

Terence Rattigan’s The Deep Blue Sea is a minutely observed take on one day in the life of Hester Collyer. Middle aged and having suffered a failed marriage and a failing affair, we encounter Hester, prone on the floor of her tawdry Ladbroke Grove flat following yet another failure, this time in her attempt to kill herself. Lindsay Posner’s take on 1950s England delivers a sepia-tinged snapshot of social mores that have long since been discarded. But while life’s customs may have evolved and changed, the play’s underlying themes of passion and despair are timeless.

As the day unfolds we meet Hester’s landlady, neighbours, her husband and her lover, as the jigsaw pieces of her life are slowly revealed. Rattigan has a powerful and perceptive understanding of the human condition, with each of his characters carefully crafted as they impact onto the fraught and fragile Hester.

But more than just the sublime writing, the acting at the Theatre Royal Haymarket defines this production (a transfer in from the Theatre Royal Bath) as one of the finest dramas currently to be found on a London stage. Tamsin Greig is Hester, on stage throughout, in a performance that captures the complexities of her depression, self-loathing and desperate desire in the finest of detail. Never melodramatic, Greig delivers a masterclass in perfectly nuanced acting.

As her High Court judge husband Sir William and some years her senior, Nicholas Farrell turns in an equally assured performance of a complex love that still burns for his estranged wife, while Hadley Fraser’s Freddie, Hester’s younger lover, offers up a snapshot of a man battling his own demons.

The key supporting roles of Miller, a lapsed German doctor and Mrs Elton, the landlady of the house are perfectly and sensitively fleshed out by Finbar Lynch and Selina Cadell respectively, each contributing valuable colour to Rattigan’s harrowing palette. Peter McKintosh’s set is an understated masterpiece of 50’s austerity, perfectly lit by Paul Pyant.

Rattigan’s eye for English misery is unmatched, and under Posner’s direction and with Greig’s breathtaking performance, The Deep Blue Sea is unmissable theatre.

Runs until 21 June

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

Backstroke - Review

Donmar Warehouse, London

***

Written and directed by Anna Mackmin

Tamsin Greig and Celia Imrie

Celia Imrie and Tamsin Greig are Beth and Bo, mother and daughter in Anna Mackmin’s Backstroke, a play that explores womanhood, memory and the end of life. Coming fast on the heels of the autobiographical The Years' recent transfer to the West End, this Aga-saga (for there is such an onstage stove) similarly spins its yarn through a company of 5 female actors.

The drama opens around Beth’s hospital bed. A now elderly former hippy, she has recently suffered a stroke. That her relationship with the middle-aged Bo has been unconventional and strained is made clear from the get-go, with Bo addressing her mother by her first name rather than one of the more typical maternal salutations.

This is a narrative that plays fast and loose with timeframes. As the play unfolds, Beth leaps from her hospital bed into the  kitchen of her former years. Bo's past memories are portrayed as an immaculately photographed short film, flashes of which are projected on to an upstage blacked-out backdrop. As we explore Bo’s complex relationship with her mother, further emotional emotional intricacies are revealed that outline the younger woman's infertility together with her journey to adopt daughter Skylar.

This is a story that could have made for a sensational evening in the theatre. As it is, aside from Imrie and Grieg’s outstanding performance skills, Mackmin’s self-directed dialogue creaks, with the whole endeavour feeling far too tedious. In what is (essentially) a two-handed piece, Bo's occasional interactions with healthcare professionals around Beth’s hospital bed appear implausible and unconvincing. 

Lez Brotherston’s set proves surprisingly low-key given his usual hallmark of design genius.

Ultimately Backstroke is a brilliant idea that has been fashioned into a lacklustre script and delivered by world class actors.

Runs until 12th April

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Women On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown - Review

Playhouse Theatre, London

***

Book by Jeffrey Lane

Music and lyrics by David Yazbeck

Directed by Bartlett Sher

Ricardo Afonso and Tamsin Greig

Pedro Almodovar's seminal film Women On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown famously captured the liberated spirit of post-Franco Madrid in a story that celebrated not just the women of the movie’s title but also the Spanish capital itself. The glory of Almodovar's vision however does not translate to the stage. Whilst some of the musical’s acting may be top-notch, its plot creaks and the mania of Madrid's scenic and atmospheric spice that so imbued the movie, is much missed on the Playhouse's cramped stage.

Billed on the posters as equals, Tamsin Greig and Haydn Gwynne are Pepa and Lucia, respectively the lover and long-estranged wife of Ivan and although both actresses are sensational, this is Greig's show. Mastering the comic subtlety of anger, in a potentially Olivier winning turn, Greig alone merits the (discounted) price of a ticket. Lucia meanwhile really has suffered a breakdown since Ivan abandoned her and Gwynne captures the desperate essence of this woman’s manic fragility. Lucia’s number Invisible, a sad self appraisal of the best years of life having passed her by, is exquisite in its heart rending poignancy.

Ricardo Afonso delights as a guitar strumming taxi driver. This coolest of cabbies, (and jonathanbaz.com has consistently raved about Afonso’s genius) commands our gaze and it’s only a shame that the show does not afford his character more airtime. Willemijn Verkaik, surely the eurostar of modern musical theatre, turns in a gamely supporting role as a lawyer with a surprise up her sleeve.

Aside from the ever talented Michael Matus’ many minor roles in the ensemble, that’s it for the excellence. Jerome Pradon fails to convince that his Ivan is the irresistible swordsman the writers intend, whilst Anna Skellern’s Candela struggles to be even a two-dimensional representation of a dumb, panic-stricken model. The desired level of farce does not come easily to this show and its ridiculous sub-plot about a terrorist at large, that would have been a lame thread even before last week’s tragedies in Paris, now just seems awkwardly embarrassing.

There are other pockets of talent to be found. Ellen Kane’s flamenco-flavoured dance work (enhanced by Holly James’ outstanding movement as the Matador) is always a treat to watch and much of Yazbek’s music (including a lovely motif that offers a nod to Carmen’s Habanera) is a delight. But much like Afonso’s taxi driving, the show's lyrics career and lurch alarmingly from wittily tight to utterly trite. Fans of the uber-talented Tamsin Greig and Haydn Gwynne won't be disappointed. Fans of the movie will be.

Now booking until 9th May 2015