Julian Glover's Beowulf - Review

Sam Wanamaker Playhouse at Shakespeare's Globe, London


*****

Adapted by Julian Glover from the translations by Michael Alexander and Edwin Morgan and from the Bristol Old Vic production directed by John David and John Elvery

Julian Glover

Beowulf is an Old English (possibly the oldest English) poem. Known to have been written in the tenth century, but with probable older origins, it's verses tell of a time of dragons, sea monsters, smoking swords and throughout it all wassail and riotous assembly in cavernous mead halls.

Julian Glover has been reciting the poem for nigh on thirty years, in a version that he has painstakingly laboured over. His editing of the verse has led to it being mainly recited in the contemporary idiom, with an occasional stanza of Old English and his helpful programme notes tell us of history having stressed that Beowulf "should not only be read to oneself, but spoken out loud". Thus it was, for two shows only last weekend, that Glover was to give his final performances of the poem in the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse at Shakespeare’s Globe. 

The venue was enchanting. Lit mainly by flickering candles (supplemented by a floodlit yellow wash) the Playhouse offers an elegant Elizabethan intimacy and that it was packed on a pleasant spring afternoon speaks much for Julian Glover's reputation.

Glover's delivery is the work of a master. Such is the actor's genius that even when speaking in the ancient tongue, typically unintelligible to a modern audience, his rhythm enhanced by a perfect emphasis on the text's alliterative strengths made even the most incomprehensible language seem crystal clear.

Using minimal props (a tankard, sword and throne, all used only occasionally) and dressed in simple, sober modern blacks, Glover's recital, through perfectly honed inflection and nuance, was a step back in time. For what must be nigh on millennia, folk have been entertained by talented raconteurs telling stories and this is precisely the ambience that Glover achieved. A man as at home performing in a Broadway musical as he is mastering Shakespeare, this wonderful actor held the crowd in the palm of his hand.

This review covered the matinee performance. Later that evening Glover's son Jamie, an accomplished actor himself, was to inherit his father's mantle by concluding the recital and carrying on its oral tradition. 

Today’s writers, directors and dramaturgs would do well to attend the future recitals of Glover Junior. Simply staged and beautifully performed, the purest of theatre does not get better than this.

The Theory of Relativity - Review

Drayton Arms Theatre, London

***

Music & lyrics by Neil Bartram
Book by Brian Hill
Directed by Christopher Lane

Jodie Steele, Simon Bailey, Natasha Karp

It's a brave conceit to fuse art with science and one that The RSC only recently pulled off with their stunning Oppenheimer, analysing the atomic bomb's evolution. On a more modest level, The Theory of Relativity seeks to link Einstein's eponymous theory with the human condition. That the show's final monologue (delivered it must be said, via a brilliant performance from Jodie Steele) seeks to play on the rather tortuous wordplay of "the speed of light" vs "the speed of life" offers a hint at how shallow this show's thesis turns out to be. As an exercise in modern metaphysics The Theory of Relativity turns out to be little more than a sometimes flawed song-cycle, albeit one that showcases some top notch performance work.

The always excellent Simon Bailey leads the company as a quirky geek, in a character who also offers the one strand of chuckle-worthy humour with a recurring motif that gradually takes the value of pi to an increasing number of decimals. Bailey brings a precision to both his vocal and physical presence that lifts the show - with a beautifully resonant tone.

Steele's presence matches Bailey - with a vocal belt and a poignant lyric that also defines her as an actor of considerable merit.

Elsewhere, Natasha Karp is a strong neurotic and Ina Marie Smith has a pleasing presence too - though for the writers, in 2013 no less, to have been making fun of size 16 women and OCD is offensive. A number intriguingly titled Apples and Oranges hinted perhaps at a foray into Newtonian physics? Alas, it was merely a trite and patronising nod towards diversity. 

Set above a pub and with a noisy air conditioning unit, the shallow raked audience placed end-on to the action demands a vocal strength in the company’s projected voice work that isn’t always achieved. More work is needed here, certainly in the show’s softer moments.

Musically, MD Barney Ashworth, occasionally accompanied by actor-muso Andrew Gallo on guitar, delivers an impressive shift on the keyboard. 

Put together on what appears to be a micro-budget even for London's fringe, The Theory of Relativity is a one act work that drags – and if you struggled with maths and physics at school, there are no easy answers here. That being said, it offers a hard working troupe in action and to catch a close up glimpse of some of our nation’s finest young performers, then fans, producers and casting directors should head to SW5.

Runs until 13th June

Picture credit: Poppy Carter Portraits at www.poppycarterportraits.com

Jason Robert Brown - Live In Concert - Review

Royal Festival Hall, London

****

Jason Robert Brown

Returning to a London concert for one night only, New York composer Jason Robert Brown plus West End guests, performed to an adoring Royal Festival Hall. Opening the gig with the overture from Honeymoon in Vegas, his latest to show to open (and after 3 months, close) on Broadway, there was an air of refreshing even if disarmingly honesty self-deprecation as Brown told his audience that the show was "the latest in a long series of shows you're not going to see over here!”

Musical director Torquil Munro had assembled an impressive orchestra for the evening, though given the venue’s vast expanse, a little more attention needed to have been paid to the sound-mix that occasionally went awry.  In what was to prove an event of two quite distinct halves, the evening’s first section was, for the most part, little more than a simply entertaining line-up. It was post-interval however that Brown’s selection of both singer and song became jewel-encrusted. 

Memorable from act one was wunderkind Eleanor Worthington-Cox’s What It Means To Be A Friend from Brown's paean to teenage angst, 13, whilst Bertie Carvel offered a touching reprise of his Leo Frank from the Donmar Warehouse's 2007 production of Parade of 2007. The highlight of the half however was Laura Pitt-Pulford (who merited a second half re-appearance) re-visiting her Lucille Frank, also from Parade only this time the Southwark Playhouse’s 2011 production. Pitt-Pulford's You Don't Know This Man offered a performance of beautifully measured power alongside quite possibly the best example of acting-through-song of the night.

Act two kicked off with a medley from The Bridges of Madison County, another of Brown's briefly lived Broadway shows - and whilst Caroline Sheen was exquisite as Italian immigrant Francesca, singing opposite both Matt Henry and Sean Palmer, too often the numbers suggested a Gaelic rather than Latin pulse, or maybe that was down to the hall's acoustics too. It took a one-off composition from Brown, Melinda, drawn from a fusion of the music of 1970's New York for the second half to truly ignite. Beautifully channelling a Billy Joel inspired sound, Melinda offered a rare moment to witness Brown's dazzling keyboard skills.

Amy Booth-Steel got the evening’s  The Last Five Years chapter underway with a beautifully nuanced I'm Still Hurting, though it was to be Cynthia Erivo's I Can Do Better Than That that saw this “national treasure in waiting” of musical theatre Festival Hall’s roof clean off!. It was tough on Oliver Tompsett who had to follow Erivo with a thoroughly decent (but by now, completely overshadowed) Moving Too Fast. In a number that was to see her powerfully duet with Brown, Willemijn Verkaik was on fine form with And I Will Follow. 

Whilst Brown's melodies are consistently ingenious, his lyrics vary. The caustic irony he imbued in The Last Five Years and in Parade was a mark of genius that matches Sondheim’s best for its pinpoint, minimalist dissection of the human condition, yet the evening's snatches of The Bridges Of Madison County seemed to lack the perceptive wit of his earlier years.  

Amara Okereke led a Drew McOnie choreographed Brand New You routine from 13, complete with a nearly drilled adolescent NYMT ensemble reprising their West End premiere from some years back, before Brown took the microphone again to encore with a passionate Someone To Fall Back On.

Seeming genuinely taken aback at the blazing warmth of his reception, Brown commented to the crowd who stood as one to salute him, that he "doesn’t see that every day!” Much like fellow American Scott Alan who himself only recently played London, one senses that both New Yorkers feel more appreciated on this side of the pond than back home.

Jason Robert Brown should return here soon, to a more intimate venue and for a (better rehearsed) residency of modest length. His talent as writer, pianist and heavenly-voiced singer too is unquestioned and what is more, London loves him.

Jerry's Girls - Review

Jermyn Street Theatre, London

****

Music and lyrics by Jerry Herman
Concepts by Larry Alford, Wayne Cilento and Jerry Herman
Directed by Kate Golledge

(l-r) Sarah-Louise Young, Emma Barton and Ria Jones

Drawn from the shows of Jerry Herman, Jerry’s Girls is a delightful cabaret that in the hands of three talented ladies, offers a whirl of show tunes that thoroughly deserves its hastily arranged return visit to Jermyn Street

  

Emma Barton, Ria Jones and Sarah-Louise Young are magnificent throughout, working their way through a set list that was originally put together for a Broadway revue back in the 1980’s. The compilation is rarely seen over here and credit to producers Katy Lipson and Guy James for having the ingenuity to have mounted it so successfully.

With perhaps the exception of Milk and Honey, the numbers are all familiar to musical theatre lovers and the combination of gloriously powerful belts intermingled with moments of the purest poignancy make for an evening that would be an emotional rollercoaster were it not all so ridiculously enjoyable. All of Herman’s big shows get a look in, with Barton’s Mabel in Wherever He Ain’t channelling an exquisite vocal presence that also suggests just a hint of Albert Square! From the same show, Young and Jones give a gorgeous and perfectly weighted nuance to I Won’t Send Roses. 

Herman’s humour sparkles, never wittier than in a song he wrote for the revue, Take It All Off, that wonderfully spoofs burlesque stripping. Again there is fabulous work from Young with Jones being disarmingly (and hilariously) self-deprecating as a stripper whose best years are behind her. 

There are nods to Hello Dolly throughout, with the show ending on a powerful tribute to all that La Cage Aux Folles stood for. Grins along with lumps-in-throats all round.

Kate Golledge directs assuredly, with an entertaining eye for detail. Matthew Cole choreographs cleverly too given the venue's intimacy and that Tap Your Troubles Away evolved into all three women tap-dancing, accompanied by pianist and MD Edward Court and his reed and mandolin playing partner Sophie Byrne on their feet too, (both fabulous musicians to boot) only added to the wondrous sparkle of the occasion. My one regret was not having discovered this gem of a show sooner so I could have had the opportunity to have returned to see it again.

Jerry’s Girls is only playing until May 31st. Barely lasting two hours, it offers West End entertainment at a fraction of a typical West End price. If you love what Broadway, Streisand, Merman & co were/are all about, then you’ll come out grinning. Go see this show!

Runs until 31st May

McQueen - Review

St James Theatre, London

***

Written by James Phillips

Directed by John Caird

Tracy-Ann Oberman and Steven Wight

James Phillips’ new play McQueen offers a lavish tribute to one of Britain’s most acclaimed fashion designers. That Alexander McQueen was to tragically take his own life at 40 only (ghoulishly?) adds to his iconic mystique – though as the play opens with McQueen contemplating his own mortality and then proceeds to take us through what is suggested to be his last night alive, the narrative’s structure at times suggests a re-branded Arthur Miller. In place of Salesman, think Death Of A Designer.

In the title role Stephen Wight is a marvel. The accomplished performer literally becomes McQueen in a relentless performance that never sees him off stage. Wight masters the cocky, cockney genius that so defined McQueen – and when the dialog offers his character profound moments of reflection, Wight’s delivery is scorching. During a dialogue with journalist Arabella (a perfectly weighted performance from Laura Rees), McQueen offers his explanation of what makes a woman feel valued and there is an analysis in his words that is both relevant and recognisable, as Wight speaks with a touching and convincing resonance. 

But if McQueen was haute-couture, Phillips choice of dramatic vehicle to portray the man is last seasons Primark. Dahlia, a fan and stranger has let herself into his home, providing the designer to re-tell his flashback tableaux.

Dianna Agron, star of the US TV series Glee plays Dahlia and one has to conclude that she has been “stunt-cast” based upon a Twitter following of two million, rather than ability. Her biography offers no hint of stage experience and it shows. Performing in close up to camera and with the safety net of re-takes is one thing but live theatre is a cruel master, demanding that an actor communicates at all times with voice and presence in a way that makes the audience suspend their disbelief. Agron tries valiantly, but her performance never gets above mediocre. John Caird is one of our leading directors and he should know better than this. His performer needs to be coached into filling the auditorium with her persona and one hopes that Agron will find her feet as the run matures.

David Shaw-Parker is a flawless delight as John Hitchcock, the master tailor under whose tutelage McQueen mastered the art of cutting fabrics. When Shaw-Parker speaks, it is though he has walked in from Savile Row. Tracy-Ann Oberman plays the complex role of Isabella Blow a style icon/muse to the designer, whose own suicide three years before his, hit him hard. Oberman delivers a trademark classy turn, though in a show that’s all about style, if her costume is to hint at décolletage, then it needs to be tightened up to conceal the actor’s underwear. McQueen would spin in his grave…

An imaginative twist sees a soundtrack of music selected by McQueen that accompanied a number of his collection launches, with tracks ranging from Handel to Bjork and Marilyn Manson. Set to the music, Christopher Marney’s choreography is electric, with a company of androgynous mannequins drilled into a perfect graceful poise. Particularly striking are Carrie Willis and Eloise Hymas’ shock-headed twins, en-pointe in unison throughout. A chic, bravura touch.

Timothy Bird’s ingenious video projections and Linda McKnight’s stunning wig design go a long way to suggesting the ascetic élan that McQueen became a part of, though Phillips stops short of offering too close an explanation of why McQueen chose to kill himself.

In what is largely a celebration of style over substance, McQueen offers a highly charged look at a very contemporary era in British fashion. Flawed for sure, but there is content here that makes for stimulating and sometimes exhilarating theatre.

Runs until 27th June 2015

How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying - Review

Royal Festival Hall, London

****

Music and lyrics by Frank Loesser

Book by Abe Burrows, Jack Weinstock and Willie Gilbert

Directed by Jonathan Butterell

Clarke Peters (l) and Jonathan Groff in rehearsal

There must be something in the Thames as it flows around the bend of Waterloo Bridge that enchants the work of Frank Loesser. Back in the 1980s the National Theatre gave the capital a groundbreaking Guys and Dolls and yesterday, for one night only, Jonathan Butterell directed a sensational production of Loesser’s How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying (almost) next door at the Royal Festival Hall.

It’s been fifty years since How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying last popped up in the West End and Butterell was blessed with a star-studded cast to perform this concert staging. In a story that is occasionally heavy on a complex narrative, the show set in the offices of the World Wide Wicket company takes us on a whirlwind tour of ladder-climbing both literal and metaphorical, as we watch “the rise” of window cleaner J. Pierrepont Finch and his studious devotion to a self-help book on business success. In today’s parlance the show would represent a mash-up of The Office with The Apprentice and all set to show-tunes of a deliciously cheesy improbability. 

Crossing the Atlantic to play Finch, Jonathan Groff is probably best known here for his time on the US TV series Glee. Make no mistake though, Groff has serious stage credentials, with spurs earned both on and off-Broadway and stellar vocals that make Finch the true hero of the piece. It should also be noted that given the very  limited rehearsal time available, his performance oozed a charming confidence that forgave his occasional glances at the script.

Cynthia Erivo and Hannah Waddingham made for Finch’s vibrantly intriguing colleagues. As love interest Rosemary, Erivo brought a warmth and sincerity to her vocals that truly allowed us to understand her desires beyond the office walls whilst Waddingham’s Hedy La Rue brought another aspect of sexual desire to the tale in a role as perfect to listen to as to gaze upon. 

Making a rare and welcome return to a London stage, Clarke Peters’company President J.B Biggley provided a strong backbone to the office set up. Elsewhere Clive Rowe as Trimble was as ever delightful in his fleeting appearances, with Rowe’s soaring vocals lending a massive contribution, not least to the glorious ensemble numbers Company Way and Brotherhood Of Man. In another neat touch, London's Loesser cognoscenti will have noted that both Peters and Rowe include the National’s Guys and Dolls in their biographies

A nod too to Amy Ellen Richardson as Smitty and Anna-Jane Casey’s Miss Jones, who both brought quirk and charm to the office table on top of their stunning stage presence. 

Loesser’s luscious and vibrant score, boasting many forgotten and understated classics, was expertly executed under Mike Dixon conducting the Royal Philharmonic Concert Orchestra. It is a treat to hear a classic score so excitingly pitched and performed at that by a full size orchestra too.

The company’s excellence left one longing for a fully staged return of this charming old show and with such a remarkable array of talent and so finely polished too, Butterell certainly showed how to succeed in musical theatre!


Picture credit: Poppy Carter Portraits at www.poppycarterportraits.com

Death Of A Salesman - Review

Noel Coward Theatre, London

*****

Written by Arthur Miller

Directed by Greg Doran

Antony Sher and Alex Hassell

Plaudits have already been heaped on Antony Sher’s performance as Willy Loman in Greg Doran’s scorching production of Death Of A Salesman for the RSC.  Arthur Miller’s keynote play, long held up as a searching critique of the 20th century American psyche, pitches Sher into a role that sees him suicidally depressed, hurled onto the scrap heap and casually catapulted between imaginary decades at the playwright's whim. Often referred to as the Hamlet of American literature, Sher's immersion in the role is total as he nails Loman’s doomed fragility.

And yet the Hamlet “handle” serves the play well, for as with Shakespeare's classic, so too does the (last) day in this salesman's life encapsulate so much of the human condition, as Willy's mind disintegrates and we witness snapshots of years gone by.

Central to Loman's life is his family and as I have written here, Harriet Walter's interpretation of loyal, even if wise and wrung-out wife Linda, is heartbreaking in its intensity.

In one of the most challenging supporting roles in the canon, Alex Hassell's Biff, their eldest son undertakes a complex journey. Hassell convinces magnificently, be it as a gorgeously chiselled footballing jock, or as a devastated young man confronted with the gut-wrenching evidence of his father's failings.

Less enigmatic, but still troubled is Sam Marks’ Happy, Biff’s younger brother. Whilst at times little more than a skirt-chasing wastrel, Happy shows not only the expected selfish traits, but also a deep and recognisable filial love for his parents.

Harriet Walter, Sam Marks and Alex Hassell

And then there are the other oh-so brilliantly familiar vignettes, epic yet everyman. Emotional hand grenades that Miller tosses into Loman's path. Struggling to meet the final payment on the family refrigerator, Willy asks to meet with Howard Wagner (fine work from Tobias Beer), his young and ruthless boss and a man who thinks nothing of blowing $100 dollars on the latest new-fangled tape recorder, unthinkingly boasting about it to Loman who is can't even meet thr finance payments on his refrigerator.

As the old man begs for a salary, an office based job and his dignity, he is up against Wagner who cares only for his business’ bottom line. As Wagner summarily fires him on the spot, with no regard for the salesman's lifetime of service to the company, Loman reminds him: "You can’t eat the orange and throw the peel away — a man is not a piece of fruit". Rarely is the brutality of corporate USA thrown into such sharp relief.

Meanwhile (and consider yet another Hamlet association) Guy Paul's ghostly Uncle Ben appears to Loman's enviously fractured mind. A self-made millionaire, Ben should epitomise the American Dream. It is a stroke of genius that Miller makes him a nightmarish phantom.

But the Land Of The Free is not all bad. Willy's long-time friend and neighbour is Charley. As Joshua Richards plays this goodly, decent man, who as son Bernard (another perfectly weighted performance from Brodie Ross) grows up to be a Supreme Court lawyer, we are reminded that success, built on merit with compassion, is also a part of what made America great.

Completing the landscape of post-war New York / New England Sarah Parks’ Woman, and Ross Green’s wry Waiter, both of whom “have seen it all before” add further lustre to Miller’s palette.

Stephen Brimson Lewis’ set, constructed according to Miller’s notes and with signature tenement fire escapes, is nicely zoomed in from its Stratford origins which only enhances the cramped confines of the Loman home. Paul Englishby’s quartet of musicians seals both time and place.

It bodes well for this brief West End run that as the curtain fell, the packed house saluted Sher and his company with rapturous applause. Garnering a slew of five star reviews at its Stratford opening last month, the acclaim is still deserved. London is unlikely to see a better ensemble drama this year.

To read my interview with Harriet Walter and her analysis of the role of Linda, click here

To read my review of this production at Stratford, click here

Now booking until 18th July 2015