A Christmas Carol (narrated by Simon Callow) - Review

****

Released on 1st of December from Island Records, Simon Callow’s narration of Charles Dickens’ seasonal classic marks the 175th anniversary of Dickens self-publishing the original tale. Two years ago Callow adapted the novel into an acclaimed one-man staged performance and it is that version now being released.

Much like a luxuriously fruited and brandy drenched Christmas pudding, Callow’s voice (surely a national treasure in itself) serves up the festive fable in a recording that lasts a touch longer than the hour. Callow savours Dickens’ descriptions, his telling of the story offering up vivid portrayals of Ebenezer Scrooge, the three foreboding Spirits that visit him through the early hours of Christmas morning and all the other Cheapside characters. 

Adding a subtly seasonal musical backdrop and occasional musical interludes between the chapters, The Brighouse And Rastrick Band offer a selection of carols from their award-winning brass ensemble. In addition to Callow on CD1, a second disc provides a further 20 or so carol melodies recorded by the band, offering the opportunity to either sit back and listen, or maybe join in for a singalong.

It all makes for a marvelous recording and in our modern world, where video-based entertainment spews forth from screens that are everywhere, how wonderful to simply play this recording and let Simon Callow’s magical voice take one’s imagination back to 19th Century London.

Available to buy and download from all the usual retailers and digital platforms.

Privates on Parade - Review

Union Theatre, London


****


Lyrics and book by Peter Nichols
Music by Denis King
Directed by Kirk Jameson

The Company

With the festive panto season finally on the horizon, why not consider skipping the traditional fairy-tale dames and instead head towards the Union Theatre for a snatch of Simon Green's take on Vera Lynn or Marlena Dietrich in Peter Nichols’ Privates on Parade. Set amongst the British Army in post WW2 Malaya and drawn from Nichols’ own experience, a song and dance unit of British soldiers is tasked with putting on morale-boosting variety shows to entertain the troops posted in the region.

Privates on Parade is very much a piece of its time, filled with wicked jokes and double-entendres every step of the way. The military is famous for its coarse humour and it is essential to context the show to its time when not only racism and sexism were rife, but homosexuality itself was a crime. So while modern day audiences may wince at Nichols’ dialogue, they should never forget his script’s historical accuracy nor its hints of underlying pathos.

Simon Green is superb as Captain Terri Dennis, the company’s leading “lady”. Green’s comic timing is spot on, along with his parodies of Dietrich and Lynn and his gin-swilling charm, irresistible.

There are equally good performances in the ensemble from Matt Hayden as the perfectly mannered, yet emotionally stifled Eric who is the epitome of a 1940's British gentleman while in the choreographed routines Tom Bowen is a joy maintaining an infectious onstage energy whilst playing the butt of continuous derogatory and racist abuse. As the honest and gentle Charles, who accompanies the entire cast on solo piano and thus truly enhances the authenticity of the “troop cabaret”, Tom Pearce is genuinely enchanting.

There are flaws here, with yet again the producers failing to conquer the Union’s unforgiving acoustics. Martha Pothen (the cast’s only female) and Samuel Curry do a convincing job as the leading romantic couple, but their occasional inaudibility makes it hard for the audience to warm to their charming "war-time love" narrative.

The show’s politics may speak of a time long past but Kirk Jameson’s assured direction nonetheless sees Privates on Parade offering one of the finest night’s entertainment currently to be found on London’s fringe.

Runs to 17th December

Reviewed by Charlotte Darcy

Photo credit: Toby Lee

Scrooge The Musical - Review

Curve Theatre, Leicester

****

Music, lyrics and book by Leslie Bricusse

Directed by Nikolai Foster

Jasper Britton

Made At Curve is a brand name that is growing in traction. Producers Michael Harrison and David Ian have a canny eye for what will make a successful show and Scrooge The Musical is their latest partnership with Leicester’s Curve that sees the theatre’s Artistic Director Nikolai Foster helm a thoughtfully crafted take on the Leslie Bricusse show.

It all makes for classic festive fayre with Bricusse’s original work, last seen some 15 years ago, being subtly re-engineered for this revival. Jasper Britton (and Curve Board Member) heads the cast in the title role, convincing us throughout of the miserly Ebenezer Scrooge. As he is visited by the spirit of his dead business partner Jacob Marley and then the three ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future, we believe in Britton’s Scrooge learning to sip the milk of human kindness and to redeem himself.

Around Britton there are no co-leading roles, rather an ensemble of wonderful quality. Notable in the company are an enchanting Lauren Stroud who doubles up as both the fiancée of the young Ebenezer in times past and as the current wife of his nephew Harry. Anton Stephans turns in a crackingly fizzing take as the Ghost Of Christmas Present, while Danny-Boy Hatchard as local lad Tom Jenkins is also particularly striking.

The show has been put together with a view to taking the spirit of future Christmases on the road (Harrison and Ian are no fools) – and Michael Taylor’s ingenious designs, brilliantly  lit by Ben Cracknell, capture the gritty flamboyance of London’s Cheapside, the towering misery of Scrooge’s office and the impoverished warmth of the Cratchit household. No expense has been spared on the creative talent throughout the production – Sarah Travis has (as ever) done a wondrous job arranging Bricusse’s score, which on the evening is delivered by Neil MacDonald’s eight piece band. Local legend Stephen Mear returns to his home town to choreograph, bringing a magic to those numbers that allow a spectacle in movement – the Toy Ballet and The Milk of Human Kindness being two particularly ingenious routines (pantomime aficionados should look out for the two dames in the latter).

The musical makes no bones about the darkness of Dickens’ tale and Scrooge’s journey of redemption. The ghosts are scary (Karen Mann’s Marley is particularly ghoulish), with Britton fleshing out Scrooge’s journey of redemption in a way that highlights the character’s own childhood of emotional abuse and neglect.

There is perceptive stuff here, from both the leading man and Nikolai Foster, and by rights the show should be garnering 5 stars. But it is Britton’s singing that is perhaps the show’s only flaw. The actor’s eminent background has been hard won on stage and deservedly so, but his expertise stems primarily from the spoken word. While this Scrooge is undoubtedly believable, commanding our empathy, one cannot help but speculate how a different actor, who perhaps has a Valjean or the Phantom under his belt, might take Bricusse’s songs to their fullest potential. But… these are early days for the production and Foster is a shrewd director – it may well be that come mid-December Britton will inhabit the musical numbers with a more majestic vocal confidence and presence.

The story here is classic and heart-warming and it says much for the city of Leicester that a multi-racial cast, evidently drawn from a mix of ethnic backgrounds, can so lovingly tell a story that celebrates an English heritage. Scrooge The Musical is another Christmas cracker at the Curve.

Runs until 7th January

Photo credit: Pamela Raith

The Importance of Being Earnest - Review

Jack Studio Theatre, London


****


Written by Oscar Wilde
Directed by Sarah Redmond

Daniel Hall

As one of Oscar Wilde’s most famous plays, one wonders if its aged humour and possibly outdated social values will stand the test of time. Thankfully in Sarah Redmond’s capable hands the story thrives.

The production is driven by the leading performances of Daniel Hall and Riley Jones as Algernon Moncrieff and John Worthing respectively, with the pair bringing an infectious cheek and charming energy to the piece, portraying the mischievous socialites with ease.

Hall’s Algernon is instantly warmed to, his strong melodic voice giving elegance to the writing and an electricity to his onstage energy. Similarly Jones’ John charms, as the actor shows an intelligence and understanding of the material and its cadence that perfectly emulates an 1800’s gentleman.

As Lady Bracknell, Harriet Earle occasionally struggled, perhaps, early on in her career, lacking the Dowager gravitas that Bracknell demands. Earle must however be commended for her decision not to concede to the norm and overplay the “Handbag” line, delivering the iconic words with a gloriously dry incredulity.

Redmond directs the piece in a somewhat abstract form, with set and scenery made up of cartoon-esque black and white set pieces, giant calling cards and cut out animals. There’s a hint of the absurd to her interpretation, but nonetheless this innovative take on a classic play makes for a thoroughly enjoyable two hours.

Runs until 2nd December

Reviewed by Charlotte Darcy

Photo credit: Daniel Everitt-Lock

The Secondary Victim - Review

Park Theatre, London


**


Written by Matthew Campling
Directed by Matthew Gould

Susannah Doyle and Gary Webster

Matthew Campling who’s written The Secondary Victim has been a practising psychotherapist for twenty years and there is clearly a volume of professional experience that underscores his play. Sadly however, in its premiere at the Park Theatre we find that his work, while brilliantly performed, comprises a script that’s possibly more dysfunctional than many of the clients Campling may have counselled over the decades.

The titular secondary victim here (with the play’s title being almost a spoiler in itself) is Ali, a middle-aged psychotherapist who finds herself the subject of a complaint alleging sexual misconduct. Susannah Doyle puts in a fine shift as Ali, struggling with her own personal emotional challenges. An equally strong performance comes from Michael Hanratty as the complainant Hugo. We learn that he is Ali’s former client and, by many years, her junior.

In what seems a lengthy two and a half hours, Campling takes us through not only Ali’s own marital strains with husband Victor (Gary Webster), but also her counselling of another client who’s a paedophile, along with glimpses into the professional relationship she maintains with her supervisor Marilyn. Not only that, we also meet Jonny, Hugo’s subsequent therapist, who in an implausible coincidence strikes up an affair with Marilyn whilst the pair are away at a psychotherapy conference.

The human condition is complex and Campling might, in a more carefully crafted work, have been correct to reference so many of society’s challenges in his text. Unfortunately, the sum total of his writing amounts to an unconvincing sequence of events that appear to have been clumsily thrown together solely to advance his dramatic narrative and which place Ali in a perfect storm of domestic and professional catastrophe that defies credibility.

Not only does Campling’s writing lack subtlety he does his profession a grave disservice with the ethical standards of his psychotherapists seeming too often to be lacking. Professional boundaries are continually blurred, with all three therapists showing scant regard for client confidentiality.

There is a lot more dramaturgy that's needed here. As it stands, if Ali is the secondary victim then the audience, quite possibly, is the third.

Runs until 9th December

Coriolanus - Review

Barbican Theatre, London


***

Written by William Shakespeare
Directed by Angus Jackson

Haydn Gwynne and Sope Dirisu

Set in a time of modern day civil/class  warfare, Angus Jackson’s take on Coriolanus offers up glimpses of masterful performance. With design and costume by Robert Innes Hopkins, the production sets out to contrast the similarities between ancient, strife-torn Rome and today’s United Kingdom, polarised over Brexit. As the plebeian citizens revolt, clad in hoodies and torn denim and brandishing barbed wire donned bats, the patrician elite surrounded by glowing marble and cascading canopies have discarded their weapons in favour of carefully nursed champagne flutes.

It’s an intelligent concept, and there is some real beauty on stage, but the piece (much like Blanche McIntyre’s Titus Andronicus in this current RSC Rome season) lacks a weight in its argument. The cast are fairly young (too young?) and in the title role Sope Dirisu who while clearly a strong and intelligent actor, does not yet possess the gravitas or age to make his Coriolanus credible. Granted, his agility lends itself brilliantly to Terry King’s fight scenes; bloody, exciting and believable as they are, but the depiction of a boy playing at war does not stir the audience.

The saving grace of this piece lies with the women. As the more socially present of the two tribunes, the voices of the poor among the socialites, Jackie Morrison’s Sicinius Veletus is a feisty and undeterred figure. Her performance is almost Nicola Sturgeon-esque in her political battle to banish Coriolanus from Rome, with again a relevance to Britain’s current political standing being cleverly played. Not from this play, but referencing Morrison, Shakespeare’s words “Though she be but little, she is fierce”, are apt.

The evening’s star performance comes from Haydn Gwynne who brings a strength and elegance to Volumnia. Playing the ever loving yet overbearing mother of Coriolanus, she dreams of success and glory for her son, successfully moulding him into the figure of state that she longs to be but is just out of her grasp. Gwynne’s presence is magnetic, owning every inch of the stage from the moment she arrives. Her second-half speech, begging her son for peace toward Rome after his banishment and unity with their enemy is an unmissable masterclass in Shakespeare.

Runs until 18th November

Reviewed by Charlotte Darcy

Photo credit: Helen Maybanks (c) RSC

Glengarry Glen Ross - Review

Playhouse Theatre, London

****

Written by David Mamet

Directed by Sam Yates

Christian Slater

Glengarry Glen Ross, David Mamet’s concise study into the snake-pit of commission fueled property sales, is as relevant today as it when it opened 33 years ago. In a Chicago real estate office, men plead and hustle as they focus only on closing deals, no matter the human price.

Sam Yates’ production is built around a tight, stellar cast. Camel coated Christian Slater (who bears more than a hint of Tony Blair in his appearance) is Ricky Roma, the alpha-male of the pack. Canny and mercenary, Roma’s senses and reflexes are razor sharp. Not only can he sniff out a potential sale across the banquettes of a Chinese restaurant (with a convincing turn from Daniel Ryan as James Lingk, the hapless john) he’s two steps ahead of the aggrieved Lingk the next day when he appears at the office to exercise his cooling-off option. Throughout, the playwright’s genius shines through as much as in what is not said, as what has been scripted. Mamet only hints at the characters’ outside lives with his play cruelly entertaining us in our ringside seats as we watch men crumble in the pressure cooker of the deal.

At the aged end of the spectrum are Stanley Townsend’s Shelly ‘The Machine’ Levene and Don Warrington’s grey haired, wizened Aaronov. Glengarry Glen Ross will always draw comparisons with Arthur Miller’s Death Of A Salesman and here it is Levene who is the realtors’ Willy Loman, a man so desperate for a lead that his once canny judgement leads him into catastrophe. Aaronov by contrast is almost a spent-force. Perhaps once upon a time he might have closed deals, but in Warrington’s artful interpretation we see a pathos-infused ineptitude.

Robert Glenister is Dave Moss, who brings an angry fire to his picture of a man who would happily contemplate incriminating his colleagues in pursuit of lining his own pockets, while as the youthful company-man, Kris Marshall is John Williamson, overseeing the leads and the deals and with a disquietingly accurate knack for sniffing out the poor performers in the team. Williamson shares Roma’s instincts, but combines them with a dispassionate, clinical ruthlessness. He may be the most principled employee of the firm, but he’s unquestionably the least empathetic.

Yates’ direction of his ensemble is tight, amidst a fast-paced script that allows little room for interpretation. Chiara Stephenson’s set comprising the Chinese eatery in act one and the men’s trashed office in the second half supports the narrative with an authentic detail.

The tragic essence of the play is that Mamet’s men are everymen, defining an ugliness of the human condition that is probably timeless. In an evening that is more of an American Nightmare rather than dream, Glengarry Glen Ross is an ugly story, beautifully told.

Runs until 3rd February 2018

Photo credit: Marc Brenner